My sister, Fallen Angel, bless her heart, has decided that men aren’t worth her time or energy unless they have something to offer her besides dinner and sex. She wants a man who can provide and take care of her and Little Bubba. I can sort of understand her thinking there, but I’ve always dated guys based on physical appearance, personality, or dick size. Monetary gain never really entered my line of thinking when it came to men. Maybe it should have. Maybe that’s why I’ve been ending up with so many losers. I feel so shallow even saying that though. It kind of gives me this weird dirty feeling, which is odd because dating guys based on cock size or physical appearance should really be what makes me feel dirty. My mind truly is a mysterious thing.
So after I moved out of the apartment & left Manwhore there to his own devices, my sister decided to give me some advice. She told me that I need to find me a rich man. It doesn’t matter if he’s old or young, as long as he’s rich. That sound like a good idea, but it’s really not very feasible or practical. Now that I’m back living in the sticks of Mississippi, there aren’t many rich men who are also tolerable enough to date, let alone be in a relationship with. So I think I’ll just stick to my plan of finding a new cub, or possibly just talking Endymion into coming to visit me here occasionally. I mentioned the idea to him today in passing, and he seemed interested in it. He’s a busy college kid though, so I don’t really expect him to drive two hours just to hang out with me for a night. It would be fun though.
I find it amusing that once I leave a city/town/state, that’s when the men come out of the woodwork and decide to tell me that I made a mistake and they wish I was still there so they could see me. Where the hell were they when I was still there? They had plenty of opportunity to go out with me before I left, but no, they wait until I’m gone to say how much they want to be with me. Men frustrate the hell out of me. They say that women are the ones who are hard to understand, but it’s actually the men who are confusing as hell. I still love them though. Damn it.
Touch me! Kiss me! Fuck me! Blah, blah, blah. Talk is cheap. Actions are what makes my panties wet.
I have no idea where that came from. Must be the allergy pills. LOL Living on the farm has it’s disadvantages, mainly the umpteen million animals that my sister owns that I’m deathly allergic to. Note to self: buy stock in Benadryl.
I still have to make one more trip to New Orleans to get the rest of my stuff. I was hoping to time it so that I could hang out with someone while I’m there, but it’s not looking too good. In the mean time I have to find a small practice amplifier for my bass guitar because I may be playing for a band. I went and practiced with them on Tuesday night. It was terrifying. I’ve never played in public outside of church. So playing in front of a group of strangers, and playing music that I’ve never played before put me way out of my comfort zone. I overcame though. They offered me a beer or four and then I was rocking it hard and had a great time. I’m really looking forward to playing with them again soon, and I hope they might even want me to play with them on a regular basis.
The thought has crossed my mind that being the only female member of a band could have its perks. I imagine there would be plenty of dirty old men and young ones too who might then see me as a “cool chick” and want to do dirty things to me. I find that oddly appealing. Until next time…
P.S. I’m having to post this from my phone because we don’t have internet in these here woods. 😦 I hope it comes out ok.