Maybe this wasn't in college. Maybe this was at your job at Target, or in your boardrooms, or at your summer camp, or the resident Betty White at your local retirement home. Whatever the location, these boner-bulging, pantie-wetting bodies always had you seething. You always wondered what they had that you didn't--that you were smart, and personable, and "beautiful on the inside." Maybe you spent day after day staring in the mirror, imagining yourself as them, wondering what it would be like to have all eyes on you, all day long. Hell, maybe you even really got to thinking and began to convince yourself that being the hottest person for a hundred miles wouldn't actually be a good thing (which of course is wrong--it's great). Regardless, the fact still stands: there are people out there that are super hot. In fact, there's this one girl with red hair and these voluptuous curves that just...
(be back in 5)
So as I was saying, hot people are everywhere. Average people are everywhere too but you don't really notice them, and frankly who wants to? I mean, I'm here to check-out my ice cream and iced tea, not ask you how your day is going--I've got hot people to see, goddamit!
Anyway, it's pretty easy to understand how hot people can have a hold on us. We act on that animal level, like monkeys. We don't care that Julia is dumber than a wet sponge, or that Damien is a party animal with no meaningful aspirations--why the hell does it matter? See, when we try to complicate things by forcing intelligence into the equation, the whole world falls apart. We can't question hotness. Just like you don't question Stephen Hawkings on physics. When you see a nice body, you don't wonder what produced it, how many hormones were in the milk. The only pressing questions should be: One, how old is said hottie? Two, how old are you? Three, is this within the realm of legality? Four, if not, how likely are you to get caught?
See, I can speak for men, because, well, I have a penis. Being a penis-wielding man with two balls (three counting the lump), I feel it right to go where no one has gone before. I believe that I should say it... I really do--I really wanna say it. Should I say it?
Fuck, alright, I'll say it. Men are emotional creatures! That's right, men! M E N ... as in, you know, the guys who grunt at their televisions and pass gas through all human holes without the slightest care for those around them.
You see women, we, men, (the penis-wielders) are, in fact, capable of showing emotions. We might do our best to downplay our emotions, even to our closest buddies, but they're definitely there, bubbling somewhere beneath the surface. That's not to say we cry when we watch The Notebook or we dance gleefully in gardens ripe with roses---what I'm trying to say is, we feel a lotta shit on an average day.
Of course, the man has a voice. This voice is sometimes soft and nurturing, but many times it can get very loud. It's an inner voice, and when things on the outside do not satisfy our inside, the inner voice takes notice. It'll scream at us to stop being pussies, to "man up," to "just do it." At times, this voice may become so loud that the only way to temporarily turn it off is to drown it. In these cases, a strong six-pack and some foul Vodka shots are in order.
So you might be wondering where I was going with this tangent on the penis-wielding male...but to be honest I forgot because I'm drunk. That's right, drunk. Like a sailor. Like that poor sap at the end of the night who's walking home alone cuz he was too afraid to make a move on some girl cuz she was too coy to come on to him even tho they both secretly but not so secretly but kinda secretly wanted each other allll alllong!!
Speaking of ladies being coy... girls, why do you do that? Like, honestly?
Nah I'm just kidding, I know.
Or do I?
Or am I the one being coy?
Click on the following link to find out:
Yes, it's porn.
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