Hello motherfuckers and brotherfuckers.
What? Don’t like how I address you?
Well, too fucking bad. If you don’t like how I talk then turn around now because this is who I am.
Aw, Valentine’s day or a day I like to think of as the one all you poor fuckers who decided to settle down, sign your soul over to succubus or incubus, and now have to come up with some sort of gift you usually pull out of your ass to give to the other person in the hopes of getting some.
Yeah, I don’t envy any of you.
Why settle for a commitment like that when tail isn’t a guarantee on a nightly basis?
So you’re thinking I don’t do commitments, right?
Oh, I’m in a committed relationship with whiskey but from time to time cheat on that fine bitch with bourbon and vodka.
And yes, I know what you’re thinking. I’m an asshole. You are completely correct. I fucked up a few years ago and now the thought of being with any woman for more than a night or so gives me a bad case of the hives.
All over my body.
My dick itches – not in a good way – just thinking about it.
Fuck that shit.
But back to the topic at hand. See I have a habit of getting off topic. It’s who I am. Hate me or love me for it I don’t really care.
Unless you are looking for a good time.
No, Valentine’s Day, buying the chocolates, jewelry, and making the evening special for your special person – yes, I used air quotes on that last part – isn’t anything I want to waste my time with.
The notes that get left around the house, the ads left out on the kitchen worktop, and the annoying, incessant need for flowers and some sort of proof of your love for the other.
Do I need to keep going?
No, good because I don’t know shit about what else is required for the day where heart shaped – modeled from the perfect woman’s ass – is every-fucking-where. My parents never shared anything on this day; instead they showed each other how much they loved the other every day. That’s how I grew up seeing love; a constant act, not just once a year.
So paint me a skeptic.
Go ahead, do it.
I haven’t found love yet and I’m not completely sure I will. So on this day I usually go out and find a woman who has no one. You know the sheila sitting at the bar all dressed up having a pity party for herself or just down right pissed off at the fucking world for not allowing her to find the man for her who will give her the world.
I pick that sheila.
I told you I’m an asshole.
I get off and so does she. I never let on that it is fate or could be more than a simple fuck. She leaves with me knowing she is going to get my attention for the evening and the next morning she is off living her own life while I do the same.
I’ve been called asshole, prick, motherfucking dirt bag, and the list just keeps growing.
You may be happy and overjoyed to do something special today for your person and that’s great. Good for you.
No, I didn’t just use the tone you use when talking to a dog about being good. Nope, not at all.
I’ll be happily going out to the bars tonight finding a woman whose thighs will spread for me tonight and a sweet pussy to fuck until we both have our fill.
Remember me, think of me often, and I’ll be seeing you later.
I’ll be coming – not the fantastic way – for you in October.
© 2016, Brooke May