Here’s a pet peeve of mine: Dirty dishes left in the sink or, worse yet, on the counter above the dishwasher. The person who does this is, indeed, lazy. This person needs to be smitten (not the loving kind).
So, if this sort of nonsense annoys you, don’t date a lazy man. He’s had way too much mothering, and you don’t want to play stepmom, which would eventually turn him into a stepmotherfucker. Interesting.
Yet, there are those women who enjoy doting all over their men. These women don’t mind such icky things as:
- Picking up clothes next to the hamper, and putting them in the hamper.
- Having sex with underwear still draped on one leg.
- Staining a comforter.
- Putting the toilet seat down (after wiping the pee drops from the rim).
- Replacing the toothpaste cap.
- Drinking that final ounce of burnt coffee, and making another pot.
- An empty milk carton in the fridge.
- Peeing in the shower.
All right, Miss Evermom, here’s how you identify and meet a lazy boy. Whilst in a bar, look for the man wearing a wrinkled shirt. Other telltale signs include non-manicured scruff, nails, or back of neck hair. He also may have his own pitcher or growler of beer to save him from ponderous trips to the bar. Even better are the men who sneak their own booze into the bar.
If you’re seated at the bar, you can also identify him as the fellow who orders a “beer,” instead of a particular brand. This applies to whiskey as well. He’ll refuse a beer glass, and probably stick his gum on the coaster. Another thing he’ll do is place a call to his friend (who is probably 20 feet away) to ask something silly like, “Are sweet potato fries good for you?” This fellow also uses his phone to text his friend for directions, not quite grasping the concept of Google Maps.
The best way to approach this man is to offer a service of some kind. No, I’m not recommending you offer a sexual service unless you’re in that line of work. Perhaps you could tuck his shirt tag in, or dab that wing sauce from his chinny chin chin. You could suggest the two of you venture off to another fine establishment, and you’ll drive so he can get blottoed.
When you finally get him back to your place, be aware that sex with him may take some getting used to. He’s going to want to skip the good parts and head straight for insertion. Like a naughty puppy, he can be trained. Swat his snout with rolled up newspaper, and say, “Bad boy! Now, look what you didn’t do,” while pointing at your Sahara-dry love tunnel. If he doesn’t get the hint, just grab him by the ears (pluck some of those stray ear hairs, while you’re at it), and send him southerly.
Enjoy your lump of man, my dear.
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