I must have F-me eyes. While involved in a casual conversation with a lady, if she has a boyfriend, she’ll usually mention him within ten minutes. This annoys me. She should save that little ditty until after I have asked her out. By using the B-word before I express my interest, she is being presumptuous.
Case in point:
- While giving me a trim, my barber happened (and you have no idea how rare this is) to be an attractive female. I gave her minor direction: short on the sides, blend in the top, and the rest is up to you since you’re the expert. The topic of tequila came up in discussion and I mentioned I had tried coconut tequila for the first time the night before. She responded with, “My boyfriend and I did shots of that last night too.”
Do I give a fuckity fuck who did shots with her? Nope. That annoying appendage (boyfriend) has no place in our discussion. Hence, I didn’t hear what she said; I heard:
- Look, Assface, you’re paying me to cut your hair. Don’t try to flirt with me because I’m not going to sleep with you. I’ll do you the courtesy of hinting that the reason is that my vagina is currently occupied by another man who may or may not be superior to you, depending on what angle is taken. In actuality, I’m not attracted to you and wouldn’t mate with you even if I had a fifth of tequila, a deep itch, and a dark room. Now, can I please finish mowing your head lawn so I can collect your three-dollar tip and move on to the next balding creeper.
To defend my honor, I should have replied:
- That’s so nice for you that you have a boyfriend. Believe it or not, unoccupied vaginas come a dime two dozen, so yours isn’t so precious. If you were single, sure, I’d probably offer to give you a deep dicking, but all I’m concerned with at this moment is that the back of my neck is cleaned up and you’re exceptionally careful with how you handle that straight edge. I will generously extend a twenty percent tip and, if you don’t appreciate it, you’ll not have another shot at my scalp. May the next man you trim be eighty, smell of gouda, and I hope he yanks his carrot under this stupid cape while you rush to complete your job before he completes his.
Please keep your boyfriend to yourself. Good day.
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