Remember when you were younger, and your older uncles/aunts/cousins/whatever
would complain bitterly about how your generation doesn't know how to do shit? According
to them, your dress sense was complete rubbish, your music didn't even qualify as
organized noise and your favorite sportsman wasn't fit to launder the jockstraps
of their own heroes.
As life, time and Mother ‘Fucking’ Nature would have it, we
are now at that hallowed age, where those younger than us simply don’t know
shit. And since I consider myself as someone who knows quite a lot of shit (as
random and useless as that shit may be), I would like to highlight another
aspect of life where I find younger people severely lacking in experience,
ability and all around knowledge. This is the subtle art form that is
conversation, more specifically, flirting.
I recently came out of the most intense relationship of my
illustrious career. Don’t ask any questions, because you won’t get any answers.
Moving on, during this time I managed to lose contact with most of my good old ‘friends’
and whilst a laudable gesture during a relationship, one must always remember
that nothing lasts forever, a piece of advice I wish I followed myself.
But I digress. Of course, now a free man, I have reverted to
my philandering ways, and tried to peek up every skirt within a 10km radius. Imagine
my body as a high functioning compass; I won’t bother telling you what part represents
the needle.
As I have complained about on several occasions, it is
impossible to walk up to women and state that you’re here to “fuck bitches”. The
only exception to that rule involves an exchange of currency and possible STDs.
Thus, in order to satisfy my perverse desires, I must engage every girl I meet
in stimulating conversation, in the hope that I can talk my way into her
panties. As luck would have it, the forces of the universe have decided to
compensate my heartbreak by sending very young, very hot women my way. And when
I say young, I mean young. I am currently en route to violating a 25 year old, molesting
two 23 year olds and if I play my cards right, I just might bag me a 21 year
old (fuck you hater, you wish you were in my shoes).
These women are of varying degrees of attractiveness, but
all share one common problem. No conversation. No creativity in speech, an
almost non-existent ability to flirt. Sometimes, and I actually told one of
them this, it’s like trying to speak to a computer. You type in a command, you
get a response, nothing more, nothing less.
To be honest, I shouldn't be complaining. After all, the end
justifies the means. But I enjoy flirting, I always have. It’s the thrill of
the chase, it's a dance that must be done and done right. Proper flirting is
like sparring or fencing. You feint, parry, duck and dodge. She tries to blow
you off, you counter that with a line that pulls her back in. She tries to
friend-zone you, you drag yourself out of that abyss and firmly plant yourself
in her sexual subconscious. I fucking love it, it makes the sex worthwhile.
But here I am, surrounded by a potential plethora of pussy
(that has a ring to it, am I right?) and I'm being dulled because these young
women couldn't carry a conversation in their overpriced knock-off designer
handbags. Personally, I blame social media, Instagram in particular. What is
the use of being able to provide witty, stimulating conversation when you could
instead upload the 70 selfies you took yesterday, hashtag them with a quote
stolen from the internet and get 100 likes from ignorant, unintelligent Neanderthals
whose idea of an eloquent role model is Kanye West?
Please don’t misunderstand, this won’t stop me from trying
to fuck anyone. My basest desires much be satisfied, whether I like it or not. However,
I would like to enjoy the chase again. Nothing fuels my ego like when I drop a
particularly brilliant line on a girl and I see the smile cross her face like “this
dirty bastard just hit the panty-drop button”. Unfortunately, I need ammunition
for my attack.
Getting a girl naked is like preparing a meal. You may be Gordon fucking Ramsey, an accomplished
chef, able to whip up culinary delights at the drop of your chef’s hat. But still,
you need the right ingredients, without which, you might as well have learned
to cook in carpentry school.
So this is an appeal to all women out there. I can’t appeal
to men as I have never (and am not planning on ever) flirted with another man. Sweetheart,
that fat ass is beautiful. Your skin is amazing and that hairdo is madness
itself. Add a sense of humor to it, maybe the ability to drop a line or two of
your own, and you’ll go from being a fine woman to a fucking goddess.
Because when we meet in person, and you forget your
Instagram filter at home, it’s your conversation and banter that’ll keep me
coming and coming like I forgot something.
I am Womilee. What your name is and what that thing do?
How many ways can I say "I MISSED YOU WOMILEE"???
ReplyDeleteand you forget your Instagram filter at home. . .
ReplyDeleteHahaha, Ludicrous.
p.s Like I will always add, Write Mo', You knucklehead.
And Happy Birthday by the way. All the effin' best.
DeleteYayyyyyyyyyyy!!!! Womilee is back!!!!!! :-D
ReplyDelete