Friday, August 28, 2009
A week of revelations.
In LA, it is hard to believe I could meet people that know Freakishly Tall Guy but I did. He has quite the reputation for being a "doll collector" and I have been his latest conquest. I am freaking out as I am now confident he is not very selective on where he sticks his penis. Every itch I have is scabies, every zit forming is herpes and every stomachache is the clap. I (PROBABLY) didn't catch anything, but the idea is keeping me up at night. In this instance, KnitStar's observation that most men are looking for three quiet wet spots with no sharp edges is spot on. EW.
How is quantity over quality more rewarding? FTG asked me over last night and I just couldn't manage the doe-eyed empty gaze, pursed lips and "momma" when you tipped me over. When I think of his place now, it is a bio hazard zone in my mind. Just couldn't do it. Done. How can other women accept this? He does it because they allow it. What does this say about us as women in LA? Despite being seemingly tough, I recognize that I have a porcelain exterior. I am not going to wait around for that to be broken or chipped. Or to be tossed aside for a shiny new doll. I collected dolls once too, but then I grew up.