Thursday, 11 May 2017

Untitled (But Pretty Damn Furious).

Can I vent? Just a little bit? It’s a long one, so please bear with me.

I am sick and tired of men who go around claiming to have slept with women who wouldn’t even touch them with a barge pole.

I got a message from a friend of mine this morning asking if I knew of a certain guy.  I said yes.  She laughed and said, he’s been going around telling people that he dated me, my friend and another friend of ours, separately, for about a year each.

This is not the first time this has happened to me.  Yet I cannot for the life of me understand it.
You want to have sex with me? Ok.  You have created all kinds of elaborate fantasies of what you’d like to do to me in your mind? Alright then.  Too chicken shit to perhaps give it a shot or maybe you acknowledge that you are simply not good enough to step to me? FINE. (Usually with guys like this, it’s always the last one.  Self-awareness is key).

But do not go flapping your gums talking about ‘I hit that’ in reference to me when you know damn well I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man on earth and I was a deaf dumb blind nymphomaniac with no sense of smell and a free-for-all vagina.

There’s this guy who went around telling people that he and I had made the beast with two backs.  Now, I knew this guy had a thing for me but I was always like, no thanks.  I’m not attracted to you, bad body odour is a turn off and if you cannot stimulate me intellectually there aren’t going to be any fireworks going off in the bedroom either, sorry.

Anyway, dude goes round telling all and sundry how he’s had Siima’s goodies.  I got to hear about it, and was livid.  As luck would have it, I was performing at a certain hotel and had gone to the bar during the break, and spotted the fool, surrounded by his boys, drinking whiskey and having a right old knees-up.

I walked up to him, and loud enough for his friends to hear, asked him to remind me of our night of passion as it seemed to have slipped my mind.  I said, either it was so good it gave me amnesia when you literally blew my mind, or it was so bad that I’ve developed a mild form of PTSD and blocked it out.  Or it never happened.  Which was it?

Dickhead sat there looking like a drowning fish.  I told him to keep my name out of his mouth, and walked away.  Part of me does still wish I’d kicked him in the balls seeing as he really was that desperate for me to have some kind of contact with his bits, but I was wearing a brand new pair of heels that I LOVED and he just wasn’t worthy.

All I’m saying is, guys, we KNOW you fantasize and all that shit.  But every time you lie about having sex with a woman you KNOW DAMN WELL YOU HAVEN’T, all you do is give yourself some weird sense of bragging right and give her a reputation.  Especially since, being the kind of guy to tell such a lie, you’re a POS anyway, and people will think she’s willing to stoop that low to give her stuff to you.

Go to your room with your fantasy and use your hand.  Because by the time you have to make shit up about a woman, you don’t deserve one. 

May your balls forever be blue.

End of rant.

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