It amazes me how the male brain works.
Let me rephrase. It's amazing how the male brain reacts when there are boobs involved. That's better.
Boobs can convince you that the sky is green, the sea is orange, and that Diet Dr. Pepper tastes just like regular Dr. Pepper. It's that simple. Being from this ridiculous race of big, dumb animals, I know this act far too well. I see it in myself, and I see it in the male friends surrounding me. I've heard all shades of stories that would shock you, nothing short of "I didn't mean to sleep with you brother...he tricked me". No, this has never happened (I think), but you get what I'm saying.
As I have mentioned before, my inner concept of the "old fashioned relationship" is dead, due to the rises in technology over the last 15 years, but, shockingly enough, boobs and booty can still make a man act like Corky from "Life Goes On" in a heartbeat.
Case and point:
I went to eat with a couple the other day, and as we were having a pleasant conversation about everything under the sun, the mood switched to being about how the male in the relationship denied the female sex, due to the fact that he was tired. As the conversation continued, I noticed she was wearing a lower cut shirt, and the more she talked about the mornings non-activities, the more the man wanted to grab those sweater puppies more than ANYTHING ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH. I'm sure she used that to her advantage, and I would hope so...idiot. Not trying to start a fight, kids.
I've led my life in a multiple directions, and a lot of them have led me into situations where said items have turned me into an utter assclown. Some more terrible than others, and some that I regret more than anything. I wander into those situations, wondering where Emmett Brown, and his goddamned Flux Capacitor, are. A lot of those moments get picked up by sad bastards that have to hear some lopsided story about what a real prick I am, and how I made them miserable, blah blah blah. If any of you readers out there know ANYTHING about me, my "love" life is something very dear to me. I'm still that old fashioned kid that my parents raised to be respectable. For fuck's sake, I still say "nice to meet you" to complete dickheads!!!
I put myself in a very delicate situation years ago that haunts me in a horrific way still to this day. A situation where I tried to do the right thing. A situation that NEEDED the right thing, but that right thing was never going to happen. Not on my end, mind you.
A couple weeks ago, a friend had a party that I really wanted to go to, but after hearing the aftermath, I'm glad I worked. Apparently, a remnant of a shitty situation was there, spewing from their neck, expressing how they couldn't wait to "break that fat fuck's jaw" (the fat fuck in question being yours truly). Obviously, there are 2 sides to every story, but from what I understand about said person, I couldn't point them out in an Affliction shirt wearing line up, and they can't read. Fortunately for me, I had a grip of friends standing up for me in the party, whether it shut them up, or not. All was based on a lopsided story by a busty dame that I did wrong, and the only reason, I presume, that it was brought up, was a) to get some much needed attention that wasn't handed to them by a parent, and that can only be received by being a complete bag of shit in front of an audience, or b) the thoughts, hopes, and prayers that they would grab a boob by the time they hit the sack. Either way, they looked like a jerk, and to be honest, I feel genuinely bad for them. Sooner or later, shit's gonna crash down. Maybe not. Maybe the sky will actually turn green.
Either way, fedoras are for lesbians.
