October 8, 2014 4 Comments
September 25, 2014 12 Comments
Fantasy guy smells good. Real guy farts out the chili he had for lunch.
Fantasy guy is well groomed. Real guy cuts his nails and lets the clippings drop to the floor.
Fantasy guy knows fine cuisine. Real guy puts the fries in his hamburger then dips the whole thing in bbq sauce.
Fantasy guy buys tampons for you. Real guy says “ARE YOU F#*+#&G CRAZY!!!!!” and tosses you a roll of toilet paper.
Fantasy guy buys you flowers. Real guy thinks flowers are a waste of money.
Fantasy guy gives you oral sex. Real guy says “I’ll do you if you do me first” then once he gets his happy ending he doesn’t bother to return the “favor.”
Fantasy guy is a billionaire. Real guy makes you pay for your dinner.
Fantasy guy buys you lingerie at Victoria’s Secret. Real guy takes you to the 99 cent store.
Fantasy guy never looks at other women. Real guy has eye radar for any tit (real or fake) and ass (big or small) that passes by!
Fantasy guy loves your curves. Real guy wants an anorexic.
Fantasy guy watches Lifetime movies with you. Real guy watches ESPN 24/7.
Fantasy guy hates strip clubs. Real guy walks into a strip club and they all know him by name “Regular.”
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© 2014 Lafemmeroar
September 23, 2014 20 Comments
I’m single and dateless, that also means I’m “sexless.” But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. In fact I think more about sex when I’m not getting it. I think about sex multiple times a day–hell multiple times an hour and sometimes multiple times a minute when I have my quickie thoughts.
I can be teary-eyed while cutting up an onion, but my mind will be engrossed with thoughts about scorching the sheets with some hot fantasy male. In fact I’m thinking about sex now. I think about sex so much that I’ve suffered many embarrassing Read more of this post
September 19, 2014 8 Comments
Patience is a virtue. I went to Starbucks and while I had intended to go through the drive through my tush said that I should park and walk it because I could use the “exercise.” Big mistake … I walk into a long line. I hate lines and the slow as snail baristas melts my patience like a glacier in hell. While waiting I try to entertain myself with the knick knacks on the shelves and ponder the logic of buying an overpriced coffee maker.
Hallelujah I’m next. Only the chick (flashing silicone cleavage) in front of me is flirting with the order taker (the horny half-wit). The two talk about clubbing, partying and other mindless “ing” activities while the last person in line (me) is chomping at the bits for her caffeine fix. The guy behind the counter sees me, Read more of this post