When I say that your confidant should be somewhat feminine I don’t mean to say that he needs to be gay or genuinely effeminate or even really have any feminine sense. Ultimately he just has to be someone who was probably raised only by his mother and who clearly lacks any sense of (rather, more accurately a false sense of) what a “man” is. I mean let’s face it, we don’t want to sit around telling someone about how some retarded ape thought it would be an excellent idea to drag you through the woods on a hike on the first date in 30 degree weather when you obviously weren’t dressed for it. I mean, seriously men. Believe it or not, I know you have a penis without you forcing me to partake in some activity which shows off you masculinity.That’s also not to say that those men aren’t useful and don’t have their place in your life. Like I said before, we all need someone to fix our cars and maybe in exchange let them man-handle us for an afternoon. Oh, I do enjoy a good man-handling.Anyway, I was grabbing a bite with my confidant, my right-hand femi-man, if you will, and I swear, I think he was jealous. Obviously, jealousy is not something he’s supposed to be feeling. I will only accept empathy, sympathy and support from his position. But, we were sitting there and I was telling him about this date that I’d had with this man I met at a gallery opening about a month ago while I was out with this completely boring older gentlemen who had served so well for acquiring some new jewelry…
I am a connoisseur of pillows. A professional kisser. And an excellent identifier of last looks. I excel when it comes to flings and can not be topped for good byes. I’m the girl whose name you’ll never remember and whose face you’ll never forget. I am, and forever will be, confidently, unwaveringly, unabashedly – me.
In fact, I recently traveled more than 3,000 miles round trip to visit someone I had never before met in person. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I’m just that kind of girl. The kind of girl who can, and does, have the kind of adventures that other people can only dream about. Of course, the ride was horrible and long and boring and if I never see another corn field it will be too soon. And don’t get me started on what those silly boring square states call coffee. At least New England has the common decency to have Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts at every stop on the Thruway. I’m sorry but coffee out of a vending machine? Please. I’d rather fall asleep and drive off the road into a tree.
Speaking of coffee, I met Sohan for coffee the other day and oh my god, I forgot how sweet he can be when he wanted to. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s totally awful in bed, but he’s nice enough when I want a free muffin and coffee. Have you ever noticed how the nice guys who you want to have coffee with can never figure out what you want otherwise? If the conversation is great, that’s all you should ever do.
I like to think of myself as a collector of men. Each one is useful for something and you can never have too many. Obviously, some skills are more valuable than others and every once in a while you have to trade for a better one. For instance, every girl should have a massage guy. Preferably this is a guy who, for whatever reason, feels like he always needs to be rubbing one body part or another. Sure, you may have to put out to maintain him, but head to toe relaxation is totally worth it. Then there’s the guy who knows things about cars. Talk to him like you’re one of the guys and he’ll probably be willing to at least talk you through whatever you need to know. Then there’s the tech guy. Invite him over once in a while and he’ll just start to play with your computer because that’s what he likes to do. The position of tech guy is, conveniently, easy to fill these days since apparently every guy who’s ever touched a computer seems to have learned how to fix them via osmosis or something. Finally, that brings me to the guy you talk to about your other guys. He should be somewhat feminine and definitely not someone who has ever seen you naked.