This morning I was searching this website from Brazil called Photo Acompanhantes. It has many independent escorts with whatsapp numbers. I’m headed to Brazil in a few days. Having only been laid once in the past year, I am making a little list for myself so when I arrive I’ll have plenty of contacts. I’m picking out the ones with firm perky natural tits. I can’t stand the ladies who take pictures of their gigantic clitoris. Those things scare me. They look like little penises. And the fake tits don’t do it for me anymore. When I was younger watching porn, girls with fake tits had an allure; now, I just imagine what their tits would look like without the bags. The imagery isn’t pleasant.
I’m at that age in my young 30s where everyone my age is getting married to the girl that makes me turn my head a little sideways like a confused dog every time I see the engagement photo. I don’t know how people do it. For example, right now I am writing this on my bed all alone. It’s peaceful. No one hollering for me or looking over my shoulder. I need my alone time. People give it up way too easily. For kicks, I download Tinder about once a year.. not because I miss it, but to remind myself how happy I am that I somehow dodged all those creatures. Especially the ones that write in their profiles.. “Must be able to hold a conversation”. Okay go find johnny boy that can hold a convo, cook, clean the shit stains out of your toilet and kiss you good night.
I know I rag on it all the time but it’s almost impossible not to. It’s so entertaining. Watching American women struggle to find happiness is the greatest show on earth. Somehow they have all been convinced that acting more like a man will get them farther and happier in life. More manly means more control in their relationships, in the workforce and in school, so they think.
“I want to be respected!” she says.
“I’m even going to talk like a man, and they are all going to believe it!” said Elizabeth Holmes and pathetically all the investors did. “Oh, and then I’ll dress like that man Steve Jobs and wear the black turtleneck! Problem solved.”
I don’t know where I was going with that one. All I’m trying to say is that I’m tired of all these dam women with masculine ways; feminists. Having lived stateside for the past year after living in Brazil for so long, I guess it’s something that is unbearably noticeable.
Next Sunday I hope to be writing about perky tits in Brazil.