[TRIGGER WARNING: Avert your eyes while I write awful things.]
I keep seeing posts asserting that a woman is a marginal substitute for a cooch-in-a-can, and while I understand the sentiment, I think it’s worth remembering that —in reality— women are far more versatile than any silicone snatch squeezed into a plastic travel mug.
- Fleshlights don’t cry.
- A Fleshlight won’t blush when you spit on it and call it a whore.
- Fleshlights don’t beg.
- A Fleshlight won’t try to run away, trip on the panties tangled around its ankles, and fall hilariously face-first to the floor.
- A Fleshlight can’t apologize for making you do horrible things to it.
- A Fleshlight never bothers to clean itself up after your friends use it.
- A Fleshlight made me a sandwich once, and let me tell you, it had this terrible, rubbery after-taste. No bueno.
- Giving your drug dealer fifteen minutes alone with your Fleshlight won’t net you more than a contact high.
- Taking your Fleshlight to your 20th high school reunion turns out to only be about half as cool as you’d expect.
- If you take a Fleshlight to a club and try to grind on it during an extended remix of Lil Jon’s Get Low, there’s an excellent chance you’ll be asked to leave. (Don’t ask. I just know.)
Maybe I’m alone in this, but I feel it’s important to pause once in a while and recognize all the amazing things that chicks bring to our lives. It just feels like the right thing to do.
Can I just copy this 4 my CV @bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls ?
Well, I certainly don’t want to deny you a shot at a career that’s right for you.