Woman: Love and emotional support? One at a time mister. Show me the money and body-convulsing orgasm, and then we talk love and emotional support.
Man: Love and emotional support? You have a pretty face? You have an epic pair of bosoms? If the answers are yes to both questions, let’s talk love and emotional support.
Men and women. We are all the same; messed up in the head and incapable unconditional love. We do try, all the time, to prove otherwise, using many different methods. Be it self help books, retarded friends’ advice and even religions. But we’re fooling no one but ourselves. We are very particular, have preferences, and more often than not, will jump at the first glimpse of a better option.
I will be polite here. Ladies first.
Yes, they can provide men with support and love and are vital components in the pursuit of the continuity of mankind. But these services do not come free. Quality of service depends entirely on how much men are willing to spend. I’m not talking love, protection and care of a man; I’m talking dollar and cents (preferably dollar of course and with a lot of zeros excluding decimal points). It does make perfect sense if you look at it. Like buying a car, if a customer walks into a Proton or Perodua showroom, the only questions worth asking for the sales person to the potential - and most probably eventual – customer would be which model, transmission type and color. Because there’s no point promoting the cars for there’s nothing to promote and the only reason the customer walked into either of these showrooms is that they know they can’t afford anything else. Once the car is sold, the sales person would say, not out loud for sure, “it’s your problem now”, with a smile in his face. After sales service? What after sales service? In fact, the soon-to-be dissatisfied customer probably does not even expect any after sales service. He knows, considering the amount he paid, he doesn’t deserve any. Now if we relate to men picking a mates. They know very well that with the little money that he had, could afford to or was willing to spend(t) that’s all he is going to get… Junk. If we look at the other extreme, say you bought a prancing-fucking-horse (that’s Ferrari) the after sales goes on forever. They’ll build you a car that fits every part of you perfectly. They’d measure the length of your thighs and width of your hips and even the diameter of each of your testicles, to the nearest millimeter to promise comfort. You decide what color, which part will come in. Your wish is indeed their command. Try buying your woman a RM20,000 Channel bag. I bet on my mother’s house, with my mother in it, they’ll fulfill your sickest, most disgusting sexual desires right outside the KLCC boutique. You will never ever have to tug your sorry self while she’s busy tugging someone else’s anymore.
Now we move on to the gentlemen.
They are a bunch of cheating, lying, and deceitful sons of bitches. Never trust them. Here’s the conundrum. You can’t trust men with money but you don’t even look at men without. What does that leave you with? Ponder that. You may be the hottest, foxiest, woman he knows now. You probably have the sweetest rack, round, firm arse and vertical lips as tight its neighbor an inch away that he couldn’t tell the difference at times. You think he’s not going to go anywhere… forever. Let me break it down to you missy. The moment a wrinkle appears on your used-to-be pretty face, tits and honka-donk sags, and your verti-lips down under gape perpetually like a dead Indonesian volcano, he’s out the door. First his mind, then his heart, and eventually, sooner rather than later, his physical self. Unless you’re lucky enough that he dies before he could find your replacement.
For women, it’s always money first, sex second and the rest later and for men, its face, boobs, cunt, ass, and the rest, in that order. Strip off all our self-righteousness, men are just a bunch of lonely lowlife, housing long-term prostitutes, masked by the politically correctness of self dictated economic success and women… well, you get what I mean.
There’s no such thing as unconditional, and forever love. Terms and conditions always apply…. Always.
