The Friend Zone
(Twilight Zone music: Di-di-di-di-di-di-di-di, di-di-di-di-di-di-di) You unlock this vagina with the key of romance. Beyond it is another dimension; a dimension of joy, a dimension of laughter, a dimension of happy devotion. You’re moving into a land of both substantive beauty and childlike wonder; But then your hope is turned to fear as the relationship rug is pulled out from under you and you realize that the vagina you’ve just crossed over into, resides in…The Friend Zone. (buhd-oo-bud-up!)
Written by: Terry Allen Cummings on 09/25/10
Brought to you by: Cous’n Cumm’ns Entertainment
Featuring: The Ghost of Rod Serling
Episode 6: Those Fucking Teeth
Ghost of Rod Serling: Terry Cummings; an offensive kind of man found guilty of knowing what he wants in a woman and sentenced to it being forever withheld from him. Like every other single man caught in the wheels of dating, he’s scared; right down to the marrow of his bones. But it isn’t being alone that scares him; the long sad nights of masturbating to a Lady GaGa video with the sound turned all the way down, uncomfortably seeing a friend with a date at a bar and inserting himself into their conversation; it’s something else that holds Terry in the hot sweaty grip of fear, something worse that ANY punishment THIS world has to offer; something called ‘Love’…an emotion forever hidden in…The Friend Zone.
Before I unfold this story, let me first preface it by saying that I am by NO means an attractive man. I realize this…almost daily. I’m overweight, I have my father’s ‘military ears’ as my mother always called them, I smell of onion and chive cream cheese, and a gap has formed in my teeth that you could kick a fucking football through. I’m basically a tubby Alfred E. Newman. That being said, as a society we’ve come to accept that fat comedians can make fat jokes, black comedians can say the ‘n’ word, and special needs comedians can talk about whatever the hell they want because they’re just so fucking special. I’m ugly, so in that vein I have a story to tell.
I know that ‘confidence’ wins the day, and I AM a confident man. I just prefer to be honest in the face of pending vagina. In fact, when meeting women online, I often tell them that I’m UGLIER than I really am, JUST so that when they meet me, they’ll think to themselves ‘oh, he’s not as bad as I thought’. Think of it as an ‘online Jedi mind trick’. I find this to be a much more reliable way to get laid than having them think ‘this guy told me he was Ashton Kutcher, but he looks more like Chef Paul Prudhomme.’
In keeping with MY honesty, the only thing I ask for is a little bit of that honesty in return from women. Since I’ve been on the receiving end of some tremendous whoppers told to me by chicks who said they looked like Angelina Jolie, but in reality looked like The Sea Hag from Popeye, I’ve become a bit more cautious with my ‘pre-date’ interviews. Maybe ‘cautious’ isn’t the right word…more like caustic. When meeting a woman online, I’ll ask her flat out if she’s fat, does she have a smelly vagina, is she bald, is she hairy, is she bullshitting about her age in her profile, would fucking her be like putting a hamster in a missile silo, and does she have any who-erish S.T.D.’s? I just want the truth because I don’t want us to waste both of our time.
All of these questions, along with some others, are actually based on lies that I’ve been told before. Sometimes however, things I didn’t even THINK to ask about slip through the cracks. The ONE thing I’ve learned over the past 2 years of internet dating is that no matter HOW perfect a girl might seem online…there is ALWAYS something slightly off. It’s like the alternate universe on ‘Fringe’, where everything is the same, but JUST a little bit different. Sometimes it’s a personality flaw like one might find in Charles Manson, and sometimes it’s a physical defect like a facial tick that’s so annoying I want to jump off of a roof. The point is that there’s always ONE thing that I can’t look past to uncover the inner beauty that all women have within them.
I understand the unspoken rules that society has indoctrinated concerning superficiality, but c’mon…let’s be real. Don’t show me a fucking professional ‘Sears’ photo that you prepared eight weeks to take, and then tell me that’s how you look all the time. And before you ‘reactionary’ hot chicks start getting all uppity, when’s the last time you fucked the fat guy named ‘Glenn’, wearing a ‘Babylon 5’ t-shirt, after he showed you his Mountain Dew can collection?
There are simple truths that help me weed out the bullshitters online. For example: If a woman’s photograph is taken from 2 feet above her head and includes ONLY her cleavage at the bottom of the photo and her face staring up at the camera …she’s a fatty. If you women would just realize this, you could save everybody a lot of time. If a chick is hot, and has a decent body…she’ll give you a full body shot. I’m sorry if this is a ‘spoiler’ to all those young horny guys looking for hot ass on the internet, since 93 percent of photo’s out there look EXACTLY as I just described, but trust me…I did the leg work on this one. Face + boobs shot on a down angle = tubby.
So, all of that being said, I met a woman online last week and after chatting for a few days, she sent me a picture of herself. Full on body shot taken in a mirror. Nice. Her face was obscured by the camera, but I liked what I saw. I look for personality FIRST, because I’m not a complete misogynist. She told me that she was in school to be a writer which is great for me because I write. She said that she had just moved to Illinois from New York, which is also great because all of my favorite things are in New York: The Marvel Comics Studio, The Chelsea Hotel, and Howard Stern; that’s it. Those are the only things in New York. The thing that stuck out the most to me however was that she is an alterna-chick.
If I’m being honest, I like ALL women. I fucking love brunettes, blondes, red heads, chicks who are just a little chunky, underweight girls, ones who know how to wear a dress and women who like to wear a t-shirt and sweatpants. My interest in alterna-chicks is like that old joke: “Breakfast is the most important meal besides lunch and dinner”.
Black, purple, or red short hair; hot, tight, black clothes with fish net stockings; and an overall attitude to match. The Suicide Girls website will show you the top end of what I’m extremely attracted too (but not that Betty Page shit). As much as I LOVE this look, I’ve never actually dated an alterna-chick simply because I’m not some Neo-Nazi skin head with a skateboard, six pack abs, and a meth habit. So, when this alterna-chick told me that she was interested in meeting me, I told her the cold hard truth; I look like Lyle Lovitt and Meatloaf had a baby at a nuclear test site.
I’m like anyone else on the internet…I’ve bullshitted about my looks in the past. However, what I usually got in return for my untruthiness was the ‘oh no’ look. That slight look of disappointment a woman gets in her eyes when she first meets you. The evening then proceeds on an awkward note, neither of us wanting to point out the obvious lies that I told, but BOTH of us knowing that I don’t look like fucking Tom Cruise.
I think that a lot of guys and gals out there bullshit about how they look to potential lovers on the internet simply because they think that once the other party has shown up for the date, they’ll throw their hands up in the air and say ‘Fuck it, I’m already here so I may as well blow you’. That has not been my experience. So I gave her a description of myself that was slightly over zealous in the opposite direction. I sent her the worst picture of me that I could find, and to my surprise? She was still interested. Apparently, I’m a charming mother fucker. We made plans to meet this past Saturday for dinner.
As the week went on, and we came closer to our date night, we got to know each other better. We exchanged more photos and each one she sent me was better than the last. I completely ignored the fact that her face was obscured in each one, because I was so awestruck by her black hair with purple highlights that she kept in pig tails. HUGE turn on. I learned that she was 22, and that she lived with her sister in Naperville, which is about 40 miles from my place. Since she’d moved in with her sister in December, she had made no friends, she didn’t have a job, she didn’t have a car, and she hadn’t transferred into a school out here from New York. Fucking hindsight.
I’m old enough to know what all of this means, but I chose to ignore it and listen to the devil on my shoulder telling me that I was finally going to fuck an alterna-chick. What it means is that she has NO ambition, and the biggest truth that I chose to ignore is that she has NOTHING but time to sit around and think about me. If this doesn’t work out, I’m going to have a stalker on my hands.
On top of that, I don’t like driving. In fact, when I was younger and pussy was still a new and rare occurrence that I thought only happened when the Hale Bop made its rounds, I didn’t MIND driving long distances to get some. NOW, however, I’ve realized that no pussy is worth driving more than 20 miles for, and if things DO work out with this girl…I’d have to pick her up all the time. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
I completely ignored all of the alarms blaring in my head and just kept telling myself that she was going to be one of those super hot artsy emo girls from New York that you always see in movies. The kind who shops at places like Ragstock and Good Will, but looks fucking amazing in whatever shit clothes she bought. The kind of woman who carries around a sketchpad with her and says interesting things like “Neil Gaimen is a brilliant writer, but I’ll bet he’s an asshole when you meet him”. I wanted her to be this fantasy woman that I’ve always dreamed of dating so much, that I ignored all of my instincts and launched myself down a one way, Dead End Street.
I took that entire weekend off from work, so I didn’t mind the long drive I was in for on Saturday night because I could sleep in the next day. However, when she called me Friday night, our conversation soon filled with sexual innuendo and she asked me to come over that evening. I knew that nothing sexual WOULD happen, simply because she lived with her sister and because time and decorum would keep me from bringing her all the way back to my place. But she soon made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.
She told me that she WANTED to come over to my place. Sure, I could tell by her tone that I was going to get laid, but I’d have to drive an hour to her place, an hour back to my place, fuck for a while, then drive an hour back to her place and an hour home. That’s 4 hours of drive-time for 30 minutes worth of sex. Even I’M not that dumb. Plus, I’d be up until, at least 4AM. And fuck that.
Since we hadn’t met yet, I really didn’t WANT her to spend the night on our first date anyway. Sure I’m an asshole, but I’m not THAT big of an asshole. Believe it or not, I’m actually LOOKING to be in a long term relationship. Sure I have a fucked up sense of entitlement when it comes to what I want in a woman, but I’ll at least throw a couple of burgers down her throat before I try to find out what’s doin’ in her pants.
After I conveyed my concerns to her regarding the long drive time that a trip to my place would provoke, she told me that she’d spend the night. Now, I never asked this of her, in fact the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. How fucking creepy would it have been for me to insist she stay over the first time we met? I had just assumed that if she came over, I’d drive her home the minute she asked me too. However, with half of the driving taken out of the equation, 2 hours of driving for a full evening of sex seemed like a better deal to my John Thomas, than 4 hours for thirty minutes. So I coifed and headed out to Naperville.
I drove out there with that ‘anticipation’ knot in my stomach the entire way. I didn’t quite know what to expect. The photo’s she sent me were of a busty woman with black/purple hair in pigtails. However, I’d been lied to in the past. I’ve had women send me photos of OTHER women just to get me to meet them and they turned out to be sea cows in reality. I’ve also had women send me photo’s from years ago when they were hot, while the CURRENT reality put them in the neighborhood of 3 wheels…all fuckin’ day.
My fears were soon put to rest as I pulled up to her sister’s apartment. In the dark up ahead, I could see the silhouette of a woman standing underneath a street lamp like in a 30’s detective story. The outline of her body was an instant turn on, and my guard immediately went down as I pulled up to her. Before I could get out and open the door for her (gentleman…right here), she opened it herself and got in. I shook her hand, but because it was dark outside and the dome lights in my car don’t work, I didn’t really LOOK at her. My main concern was her body, and that concern had been assuaged.
My stomach was in knots the entire way back to my place as well. We talked and she seemed like a great girl. I was looking forward to exploring what this might become. At around 11PM we got to my place, and soon…very soon after, another nightmare came into my life via the internet.
We made small talk as we climbed the steps outside of my building. She walked in front of me, and I TRIED not to burn a whole in her ass with my eyes, but fuck…it was a nice ass. I opened the door and entered the darkness of my apartment. She came in behind me and I walked through the living room and turned on the lights.
My car keys fell to the floor in slow motion. The reality of what I was looking at seemed to take an eternity for my brain to comprehend. I couldn’t have been more shocked if I had turned on the lights to find the kid from ‘Mask’ looking back at me. Of all the fears I had earlier in the evening, THIS one never even entered my mind. I stared at her for a good 30 seconds as she tried to make awkward small talk, but like a Roman Soldier staring at Medusa…I was turned to stone.
She DID have a nice body, and she was wearing clothes to show it off. She had black and purple hair as indicated by her pictures…however; I could see why her face was obscured in all of her photos. There was ONE fucking thing, like there always is…that I just couldn’t get past.
Those fucking teeth. First of all, she had the overbite of a Simpson’s character. Her skull stuck out a good four inches from her jaw, and as if that weren’t bad enough? She had the most enormous buck teefus that jutted out of her head at a 45 degree angle. They looked like 2 huge, snow covered ski slopes. She couldn’t even cover them with her upper lip because they stuck out so far. I kept trying to look for SOME other attractive feature on her face so that I could stop staring at those fucking teeth, but nothing could draw away my gaze. These things were at LEAST 2 inches long giving her a world record overbite total of 6 inches. She must have to stretch her arm all the way out in front of her to brush them. Beavers look at her and say ‘oh HELLLLLL, no!’
They were the most amazing, opulent, alarming, astonishing, astounding, ample, awash, bewildering, brimming, bulky, burly, capacious, colossal, commodious, considerable, copious, crowded, dazing, enormous, extensive, electrifying, flabbergasting, full, gigantic, heavyweight, hefty, huge, hulking, humongous, husky, immense, impressive, jumbotron, mammoth, massive, mondo, monstrous, oversized, packed, perplexing, ponderous, prodigious, roomy, sizable, staggering, striking, startling, stunning, stupefying, stuffed, substantial, super colossal, thundering, tremendous, vast, voluminous, walloping and even beautiful things I’d ever seen. They were…those fucking teeth.
As my initial shock died down, I told her to have a seat on the couch and I quickly went to the kitchen to prepare our alcoholic beverages and try to regroup. What was I going to do? Those fucking teeth were like dick repellant. I decided that I’d do what any un-self respecting man would do…I’d get drunk enough to ignore them.
I brought our drinks out to the living room and sat on the opposite end of my couch. We had decided, on the drive to my place, that we’d watch ‘The Big Lebowski’. She told me that movies are made so people could cuddle, and she wanted to snuggle up to me as we watched the film. What could I say? She smelled great, and she was wearing a skirt to show off her terrific legs…but those fucking teeth.
As The Dude was being given a drugged white Russian by Jackie Treehorn, the alterna-chick turned and leaned in to kiss me. In the dark of my living room, I could see the outline of those fucking teeth in the light of the TV; they looked like a cow catcher on the front of an old train speeding towards my face. I reciprocated and began the most awkward make out session I’d ever been involved in. Her teeth kept me at a distance from her tongue. It was almost as if I were making out with them. I wasn’t sure if I should kiss her straight on, or put my head under her out cropping like a short kid trying to drink from a tall water fountain. Her teeth were like a chaperone at a dance making sure that I couldn’t get too close. However, as Jeff Lebowski said in the movie…”The Dude abides”. But The Dude didn’t have to deal with those fucking teeth.
Our kissing turned into touching, which led to groping. When I put my hand on the front of her jeans, I could feel that moist heat coming from her. She reached into my pants and grabbed my junk hard, letting out a sigh as she did. I was rock hard…but I still couldn’t stop looking at those fucking teeth.
She wrapped her arm around the back of my neck, and pulled me close for a deep, passionate kiss but instead, she ended up slamming HER teeth into MY front teeth. I reeled back in pain. Instant dick death. I thought she’d knocked my teeth out. This was becoming a frightening feature to overcome. These things were concussive and when wielded haphazardly.
She ignored my obvious pain and began to undress quickly as I gathered my wits on the end of the couch. Her body was milky white and lithe. She had no tattoo’s, which in this day is a turn on in itself. Like an unpainted canvas. She was more turned on than any woman I’d been with in a long time, and that turned me on. As I looked her up and down, my gaze STILL fell on those fucking teeth.
It hit me at that moment WHY I was in this situation. She had a complex about her looks and because of this she had created a world of boredom. She made no significant relationships and her agoraphobia kept her from meeting any friends. Because I was nice and hadn’t pushed her away, I was her ONLY means of contact with the outside world at the moment and if I fucked her? I’d never be able to get rid of her and those fucking teeth. So the question you fine readers have to ask yourselves at this moment is: was I using HER? Or was she using ME?
I decided at that moment that I wouldn’t stick my filthy pethis inside of her, but I was still in need of some kind of release. Maybe if I went down on her and let her give me a handy, we could both be satisfied. After all, that body was unbelievable. But not in the living room. Too bright. I had to find a way to do this and NOT have to see those fucking teeth.
When the lights are off in my bedroom, and my curtains are drawn, it’s completely pitch black. I picked her up from the couch, and carried her to my room. She undressed me while on her knees at the foot of my bed as I stood in front of it. I pushed her onto her back and began feeling my way down her body in the dark. She had the smooth skin of a 22 year old and I could feel her muscles just underneath it. I kissed and pawed at her breasts like a 16 year old boy copping his first feel. As I made my way down her body and began Rocky Balboa-ing her clit with my tongue, she moaned and cooed like a porn star. She pulled my hair fiercely and screamed as she came. I may not have a huge dork, but I eat pussy like an Olympic champ.
I’m not really one for the rough stuff in the sack. I’ll choke a woman to a certain extent if she likes that, I can kiss hard, and I’ll do my share of tossing a woman around into the positions I want her in. That’s all expected. However, I also know when to be gentle. There’s a difference between fucking someone that you’re just going to fuck, and fucking someone that you’re going to date. The alterna-chick wanted it rough, and I had no problem providing that to her. MY problem comes when a woman wants to be rough with ME. Fuck that. I don’t like my hair being pulled, I don’t like having scratches all over me like I just fucked Freddy Kruger, and I don’t like being bitten…especially with those fucking teeth.
After she came, I lie down on my back for a little return on my cunnilingual investment. She kissed me and then began biting my body as she went down towards my dork. I still have the welts along my torso from those fucking horse teeth biting into me. In the darkness of my bedroom, my mind kept picturing that Tom and Jerry cartoon where the lion escaped from the zoo and was hiding out in Tom’s house. At one point Tom is holding a big cartoon ham behind his back that he just snatched from Jerry, and the lion sneakily opens his mouth, exposing his giant teeth, and bites down taking the meat off the bone like a hot knife through butter.
My fear mounted as she went further down my body. Have you ever seen a spider in your home? You get freaked out, you squash it, but then EVERY little movement around you scares the shit out of you for the rest of the day. As she reached my pubic area, there was a slight pause of feeling. In that pause, my tension mounted to its fullest extent. I didn’t know what this woman was capable of; I didn’t know if she KNEW how to give a bj with those fucking teeth. She’d already smashed them into my mouth like waves crashing against a rocky outcrop.
Then I felt something sharp and quick! A split second of an uncomfortable squeeze. I pulled back my leg and kicked her off the end of my bed. I thought she had bitten down on my dick. Teeth are the natural enemy of a dork, and my imagination had gotten the best of me in the blinding darkness of my bedroom. “I don’t mind being rough to YOU, but don’t do it to me” I asked her apologetically as I helped her off of the floor. “Sorry, I just grabbed it with my hand” she said.
As we went back to our positions, she proceeded to give me one of the best blow jobs I’ve had in recent memory. As she did so, her ass was near my right shoulder because she was on her knees. I rubbed her clit with my finger and then stuck my thumb inside of her. Fuck, this was the tightest vagina I’d ever been presented with. I could BARELY put my thumb in there. It almost made me think that she was a virgin. The pressure of wanting to fuck her mounted, but I just kept telling myself not to do it: Those fucking teeth.
I came three times before we finally drifted off to sleep. At 4AM, I woke up to take a leak, and when I came back to the bed, she snuggled up next to me and put her arm over my chest. I don’t know why…but that simple act made me ready for round 4. I started touching her naked body and soon we were going at it again. Still not fucking, but just having at it until the sun started coming up at 5.
As I lay there in my bed, with this alterna-chick curled up next to me, I began to rethink my position of superficiality. We had a lot in common, she had a smoking hot body, she smelled great, she had a great vagina, she gave probably the best blow jobs I’d ever had…could I overlook her one flaw, as big as it was, and be in that relationship I’d been looking for? I decided that I’d give it a shot.
Because she wasn’t tired at all, we got up and watched the Three Stooges on AMC in the living room. After we had both showered, we decided to go out for breakfast. The main reason that I had taken the weekend off of work was so that I could write. After all, I have a lot of work to do in order to finish this book and get out of my shit job. She knew this going into our date. At breakfast, I suggested that I take her home after we were done eating. That’s when the personality flaw that I overlooked before hit me full force.
“Oh…you probably just want to get rid of me and then never talk to me again”. What? What the fuck kind of thing is that to say? I told her that wasn’t it at all, but that I had work to do. “It’s ok, you just want to get rid of me” she said depressively. I had decided earlier in the day that I could overlook her physical defect, but the manic depressive personality flaw wasn’t going to fly.
Maybe she was just acting like this because she didn’t get much sleep. I liked her so I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, since I’m not an asshole, I had to disprove her theory. I felt like my integrity was being held hostage. That’s NO way to start a relationship. But to assuage her fears, I asked her if she’d like to do something else. After all, by the time we were done at the diner, it was only 7AM. Her response was the same as before: a depressive “oh…you can just drop me off at home and never talk to me again”. fuuuuuUUUCK!
I took her back to my place to watch a movie. At around 9AM I told her that I had a great time, and that I’d like to see her again later in the week, but I needed to get this work done so it was time for us to head out. Same thing: “Oh, you just want to get rid of me and never talk to me again.” Ohmyfuckinggod!
I asked her what she would like to do then. She told me that she was tired and wanted to take a nap. FUCK, you can do that at home, I thought to myself…but ok. I WAS fucking tired myself. We fell asleep until noon. When we woke up, I told her I’d drive her home and then we’d go out for dinner sometime during the week, but I HAD to get some writing done this weekend. “Oh….I’ll probably never hear from you again”. AHHHHHHHHH!
On the way back to her sister’s apartment, I was deluged with depressive talk of how I would never talk to her again. It was incessant. So I took her to see a movie at 1PM. After the flick was over, it just kept coming. “OK, well I guess you can drop me off now so that you can ignore me from now on”. MOTHER FUCKER!
So, I took her out to dinner. At the restaurant she told me things about herself that made me want to stab myself in the leg with a fork. As it turns out, she grew up in a trailer in upstate New York. I TOLD her, when we talked on the phone that one of my dating rules is that I don’t date girls from trailer parks. Read some of my other stories if you want to know why. THEN she told me that her father was in prison and she’d never been to New York City. Next came the truth that she hadn’t even GONE to college yet and knew NOTHING about writing. Everything that I liked about her was quickly being flushed down the toilet. She fucking lied to me about almost everything.
After we had eaten again, I just wanted this nightmare to end. I told her that it was time to take her home, which led to MORE “Oh, I guess I’ll just never see you again then”. She was fuckin’ talkin’ me into that scenario.
Finally I drove her to her sister’s apartment. It was now 7PM, and I’d spent the entire fucking day with her in an effort to disprove her whining theory that I was just like ‘every other guy’, even though I’d done nothing to provoke that accusation. In fact, if ANYONE was being ‘typical’, it was her with the lies she had told me.
As we exchanged an awkward goodbye kiss, I tried to imagine a scenario that would make me want to see her again. I KNOW this type of woman. If I could put up with her needy depressive behavior, I would have COMPLETE and utter upper hand in a relationship with her. She would rely on me as her escape from boredom and in that role; I could get her to do pretty much anything I wanted.
But to be honest with you, I’ve never wanted a ‘submissive’ partner. I want someone who’s self sufficient; I want someone who shows up to my place unexpected sometimes, in short? I want an equal, not an underling. If I wanted a thrall, I’d dress up like a fucking vampire all the time. So when she exited my vehicle, I screeched out of there like one of Mary-Anne’s dates on ‘The Munsters’ when Herman would answer the door, and said goodbye to those fucking teeth.
As I drove home, the alterna-chick texted me about 37 fucking times. Each one more depressing and needy than the last. Even though it made me feel like a complete dick, I didn’t respond to any of them. She made a self fulfilling prophecy and now she was going to have to live with it.
It’s not easy finding someone who makes you feel good about dating them, and it’s even harder trying to meet that person on the web. The truth is that you have to be more honest and fearless in the face of rejection ONLINE, than you do in real life, because you are presenting an unseen product. Lying to someone face to face is MUCH easier than lying to someone that you haven’t met yet. So my advice to all of you out there looking for love on the internet super highway is this: let it all hang out. Put pictures of your fat body in your profile and be honest about things that you’re going to HAVE to tell us about eventually. Being ignored on the internet is FAR less humiliating than seeing that ‘oh no’ look in someone’s eyes when they see those fucking teeth.
The Ghost of Rod Serling: Enigma buried in the sands of hope, a question mark with broken wings that lies in silent grace as a marker to the haunted shrine of romance. Odd how possibility consorts with shadows, how reality fuses with fantasy. How does it happen? The question is on file in the silent mindscape of lost hope. And the answer? The answer is waiting for us…in the Friend Zone.
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Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean that if you go on a date with me or screw my brains out that I’m automatically going to fall in love with you. My cock reserves the right of first refusal.
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And therein lies another of my many faults…I don’t like fat chicks. I could go out there TONIGHT, with the materials that God has given me and find a fat chick to marry, TONIGHT! Can you, you son of a bitch?
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I’m not out here to judge, and I’m not looking for a perfect 10. Hell, I live in Illinois where the population is so fat that the automatic doors at Wal-Mart won’t open for anything under 300 pounds.
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And here’s another little tip for you ladies out there…if you’re single and actively looking for a date? DON’T make your main profile photo a picture of your fucking kid. As a man I can tell you that when I’m trolling for snatch on a website, and I see your kid hanging upside down from a swing set, my dick buries its head in the sand like a fucking Ostrich.
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I had 3 orgasms that night, giving me a grand weekend total of 8. I think that’s more than I had during my entire 20’s. I’d spilled more seed that weekend than Michael J. Fox trying to fill a bird feeder.