Some marriages have the arrangement where the mother works and the father stays at home. Well, I’m looking for a unique relationship with an even greater level of commitment. I’m hoping to be the worker, the one who takes on all the stress in return for your almost debilitating commitment. If you already have a disability that prevents you from easily getting around (or away) that’s even better. In my ideal relationship the man never leaves the bed, he spends his days watching back-to-back Simpsons episodes, yelling at the kids to “stop doing whatever you’re doing!” from the bed and when I get home there’s the sweet smell of sweat, bacon and poop permeating the air.
A typical weekend might involve a few sightings of you in the living room with your Jersey shorts and bacon stained wife beater scratching the back of your neck and asking “So, whatcha got goin on today?” As I begin to tell you about my plans, mid-answer you interrupt and announce, “okay, well, I’m goin’ back to bed.” Since you own fifty pairs of Jersey shorts and somehow manage to wear them all in a weeks time there’s always bonus work for me to do when I get home. On the plus side I throw out all the ones with poop smears or holes in the crotch and it cuts down the workload SIGNIFICANTLY. Occasionally, I’ll notice you are in the bathroom because it sounds like someone is watching Gladiator or that movie 300. Your humor will primarily revolve around bathroom humor, for instance downing a can of beans while in bed than farting and asking “Too soon?” As far as our sex life there’s nothing hotter than doing it doggie style and realizing your hand is on a smooshed mac and cheese sandwich or feeling the sharpness of Pringles underneath your kneecap. I know it’s hard to imagine this kind of arrangement since it’s pretty cutting edge…just think Charlie and the Chocolate factory Uncle Joe on tranquilizers.
It’s a tall order and in this society where it’s customary for men to work and women to stay at home, to have a woman work and have a man do jack shit and be generally disgusting is pushing the norms. I basically would like to be that chick that every guy wants. I tried to do that with makeup, by being super skinny and eventually resorting to getting an education. Finally, I’ve discovered how to be what every man wants (enabling) and in turn I get what I want, crippling loyalty.
Average hite guy that engages in the occassional drink and drug. Yesterday in fact I have made clay pots for dope and dabble in heroin. I really miss ShoCk TaRTs and haven't been able to find them at any store for some time hahaha. Right now there may or may not be a guy dressed entirely in black with a face mask hearing my thoughts OUT LOUD. Lookin for a down ass bitch really get illuminaughty with some speedballs and smack ya know ride or die. Also hoping black guy ski mask "bone crusher" hits the road an gets his skull pounded. People call me Rooster, I got a toaster I wear on my back, goes up to 99 miles per gallon. Don't be all weird like tin foil hates you know or fuckin tryin to cook your globe with a blow torch and singe your eyebrows. Had a girl last week didn't tell me she had a bf and come break into our hotel room dirty bitch lied to me and now I got burn notice. Come with your own sack too. Just a nomral guy pretty chill hella chill every girl I been with left. With a good taste on her mouth ya know? Names rooster if I didnt already say that. I gotta go somewhere, ninja dude got friends and they all jabbawokies on my ass. PM me.
I've been sittin' out watchin' the game for awhile thinking now why can't I do what those guys are doin'? You see, I'm an alright player, I got a decent flow so why do I keep gettin' put in the dug out? Every chance I get on the court is short-lived. The adrenaline gets to me and I get either too full-court press (admitting that I'm 100% all in) or suddenly I can't handle my shit and I foul up. What I need is a coach, someone with experience that can see my strengths and weaknesses and help me tighten up my weak performance.
Update: I had a lot of responses to this post thinking I was reaching out for help with erectile dysfunction. My erection game is on point okay and you know just cause a guy uses sports analogies does not mean he struggles with ED. But if you know of any kind of miracle pill that actually worked, go ahead and put it in the subject line of your message. Just as a joke :)
This is a missed connections blurb, I'm just reachin' out to see if I can find my bros. We used to hangout night and day, always had each others backs, since you left I literally feel like a piece of me is gone. Remember swimming and how Jason lost the race so he just had to wade in the pool for days? Kev and Ryan ditched us on Prom night and Tony convinced me to get a plan B then out of stress I shot out Blain and Stephen...remember? God, we had some good times. I feel like a soldier who has returned home from a long, distant war that wants nothing more than a reunion with the guys who kept me going during hard times. Last time I saw you guys was in my Fruit of the Loom striped basketball sock and I'm not sure where you've dispersed to. Please hit me up so we can kick it, rounds on me.
Hey Baboids, Gentoids, Androids just an old trick looking for new kicks. Been experimenting with some new sexual ventures and hoping to get a roster together for spring season opener. Forget 69, that's old news...come try the 27 aka "executions style impregnation". Or the 55, that's where we lay one in front of the other with our knees bent and arms straight ahead, no penetration. I'm also super into WAGWAGWAG (watching a guy watch a guy watching a guy). Super F'ing hot! I've streamed that before aka "The metaWAG". I've got a lot of room for exploration at my fetish ranch so I say let's get it movin'. I like Juju Licks, Underwear Pastes, Crotchadile Hunters, Ho Getters, Glitter Dicks, Bums, Yetti Enemas, Edible Grabs, Bloody Pad Slaps and Hung Daps to name a few. IM me for explanations on any all.
Scooter Boot here, er you know the coupla other names I been pickin' up along the way: Bootlegger McDupe, Scooter "The Boot Guy" Boot Bilson, SOB, AND late fer dinner (not my fault, was takin' rubber chicken shots with my pal Casey "Dick Beater" Kratom and accidentally pushed my pants through the woodchipper...it was funny at the time) Nywayz, after muh three divorces from this site I wasn't too sure if I wanted to show muh face here again. But you know no harm, no foul (unless it's a rubber). A few things about myself...got 20/20 vision, dr. always says muh blood's fast when they check my iron and I got the herps. When I say I'm burnin' for you I guarantee it is entirely literal. Seem ta pick up crazies so at this point I'm not expectin' no diff'rent cause that'd mean I need to change myself an to that I say no thank you. There's a certain virtue that goes into bein the man you are even if it means you injure yourself weekly from Keystone Light and two left feet. Give ole Scooter Beet a hollar if yer crazy like me.
Hello, my name is Stephanie and I'm a math teacher living in Utah. I've been imagining what my tagline would be on the Real Housewives of Lehi and I'm thinking "I May Not Be The Only Wife, But I'm The One That Counts". I am a member of the reorganized church of Jesus Christ of Ladder Day Saints and in effect I am looking for a man that already has established a wife base. I'm also a HUGE fan of the Bravo Real Housewives franchise and I am hoping to find a family that would be interested in trying out for the show with me. Think about it, instead of having several sets of husbands and wives, it could just be us! Our arguments would look like this:
"I did the dishes last night and it was Rhonda's night!"
"I don't do the dishes, I'm a linear blood relative of the prophet Joseph Smith! I'm practically Mormon royalty!"
"Girl, you trippin', this church was founded on women doing the dishes, you better step!"
I've got lots of drama to provide myself as I am related to the late Brigham Young, have 67 brothers and sisters and am on 4 different kinds of bi-polar meds. I'm kind of a rebel as I refuse to wear jeans under my dresses and wear straight panty hose. Put Real Housewives of Yo Momma's in the line of your email if you are a strapping man with a full beard and more than three established wives. Excited to meet you all!
Yeah, just like the title implies, I'm kind of a stalker. Normally when a girl breaks up with a guy they kinda get a hint like they should move on, well...not me. My first inclination is to "make you go out with me" or make it so "if you're not going out with me, no one can have you" by whatever means I have to secure. Basically, a stalker is just an assertive romantic if you think about it. Like Shakespeare I like writing little sweet poems then attaching them to a large rock and throwing them right through the front window. It's called passion and a lot of guys are really lacking in that department.
"What happened to the days when guys would drive past your house multiple times in the day (and some in the night) just to catch a glimpse of your gorgeous body (also, make sure there's no other guys lurking around...and if there are threatening to set you both on fire) then going home and indulging in aggressive rape fantasies, ya know?! " - me
My idea of a perfect date would be like I come on super strong by demanding every second of your attention and getting pissed at any guy who dares look at you. You make up an excuse as to why you need to go home and when we part I send ten messages about what a good time I had. When you don't reciprocate the messages, I instantly turn violent and mean, cutting you down for being stupid, fat and ugly. To save face I show up at your house sometime in the very early morning crying and apologizing for my "rash behavior" and you say you understand, invite me in and make passionate love after which I ask you to marry me. You freak out, wish you hadn't been so horny you settled for a guy that had obvious glaring red flags and our courtship begins. I know it's short timing, but the connection is so powerful I just have to have you. If you think you are that special that someone should surely be stalking you then please respond. If nothing else you can use me as your token stalker to prove to the guy that you are really interested in that you are worth something.
Got someone to poop on me! Finally! However, had a little incident and my house caught fire while we were in the act. She made it out okay cause she already had her shit packed if that makes sense. Now that I know it's possible though, it has restored my faith in humanity. My name is Shane and I have a deep, deep desire to cut loose on some loose stool. I'm looking for a special person that is poo-curious to experiment with. If you have a heavy load, loose that caboose up onto my pad and I'll help you make a drop. For lack of a better poo-phemism....this ain't no bank, but I'll help you with all your deposits. I ain't no financial advisor, but I'll help you with all your business, ifyouknowhwhati'msayin'? Took me awhile to gain my strength and declare what I want of the poo-niverse, but here I am loud and proud. I'm a simple man and my needs are few. I want a special package delivered to my front door this holiday season. I'll be waiting....
That's justh an amathing aliterathion ithn't it? Why hello, my name ith Maxth and I believe, by my esthtamations, we are off to a good start. How can thethes things be quantified I'm sure you are asthing yourthelth's right now. The egsthact formula is a slope intersthept t1-t2 over h1-h2 if that makthes thenths. Love ith a formula juth waiting to be tholved. If that doethn't turn you on than perhapth our time together has already been too long. I would thay that time ith too preciouth a thing too waste, but wasting time is physically improbable! In thact thome would argue that time ith utterly non-ethistant. Anywaythes, I am but a thimple yet crude ethample of a man looking for a regal printhess to grathe my path. Pleathe tell me about yourthelf and leths get thith good start off up to an ethcellent one!
PS. So I have a lisp in real life, but I don't know why in God's hell I was writing with one. Sorry about that, Max.
A writer living in Portland, OR looking to meet Chuck Palahniuk. Single mom to 2 boys, sales agent and lawyer-in-training.