What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Friday, April 15, 2011

Speed Mating


      At home and within my favorite watering holes, I am surrounded by stray women. They've recently been set free by their “owners” (in the eyes of the husband) and released upon a world of opportunity. Occasionally, fear turns into depression for these lasses. But, once word arrives that the husband has adopted another, IT'S ON!
      It doesn't matter if the couple has officially parted. It doesn't matter if there are legal documents plainly stating that each is free to mate. If ex-wife finds out that ex-husband is banging bimbos (e.g., anyone younger, thinner, or prettier) before ex-wife has a chance to hook a new lover, ex-wife dons the sparkly jeans and seeks an immediate cock-stuffing.
      You don't know any of these women because they keep this on the down-low. They use excuses like, "Oh, we were just playing around. It's not like we slept together."
      I know better.
      It's funny how I receive hardly any lectures from men about the dangers of promiscuity. Conversely, every woman I meet unattached to a brass pole assures me I'll receive herpes, warts, and dick cancer if I sleep around. I'm sure the dangers lie somewhere between the two extremes and I’m betting they're closer to unlikely.
      Then, these same women begin slamming chardonnays and man-hips to heal those bruised egos. It's quite a circus act trying to convince prospects of their innocence while mind-fucking their ex-husbands with tales from the backside. Ms. Jilted also tosses every loose friend of hers under the slut train while she's at it.
      “I shouldn't be telling anyone, but Sandy is acting like such a whore since she found out her ex is seeing a Brazilian yoga instructor.”
      Details, please.”
      “I shouldn't say.”
      “Yet, you will.”
      “OK, but promise you won't say anything.”
      (This person, having some awareness of what it is I do for a living, is in the midst of such a huge amount of self-delusion, I must play along.)”
      “I promise.”
      “Sandy met this gross Persian guy at the bar last night. She got drunk, gave him oral in the parking lot, went home with him, and screwed his brains out all night—get this—without a condom.”
      “How does her schedule look? I may have an opening for one or more of her openings.”
      “You're gross.”
      “Sure am.”
      “What if she catches something? She's just doing this because she fears nobody wants her.”
      “With every inch of cock she inhales, she dispels the fear and increases her fan base.”
      “Ew!”
      “So, you didn't go through any similar phase when Bernie left you?”
      “Absolutely not.”
      “Liar.”
      Guess I'm not as supportive (blind) as her average girlfriend. It's probably because I'm not judging. I think Sandy should bang all the boys she needs to regain her confidence. Sure, she should be careful about disease and her reputation, but I say, "Have at it, kitty cat." Hone the skills your ex left alone. I condone you being biblically known.

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