My parents have been happily married for 33 years…disgusting, I know. Every time they kiss in my presence I want to vomit (and I usually do).
True love is so 90s, yet they seem immune to the social norms of our society…lame.
But what really confuses me is the adverse affect this situation has seemed to have had on my general psyche; my parents 33 years of happy fidelity has produced a “fear of intimacy”, with a smidge of “fear of commitment” and a dab of “narcissim” with just a splash of “gassiness” within my black soul.
I mean, come on, I have a fucking blog…so yes, one can safely assume I am a narcissistic lady douche (with bad gas)… not that I would know or anything.
Any who, this douche (me) has an intimacy problem…and it’s gotten bad.
I can’t even stay in the same bed with a guy I just had sex with anymore. I usually try to kick the guy out right after the deed, but a couple of them caught on and pretended to be “asleep” as I profusely kicked them in the kidneys…those selfish bastards.
I have an issue and I am aware of that. I purposely go out of my way to find men that are emotionally unavailable, because I am one of them….small penis and all.
And for the most part, I don’t have an issue with this issue, unless I’m going through a dry spell, then I get pissed I don’t have a guy who is legally forced to have sex with me based soley on the fact that he is my boyfriend.
Most women are more emotional about sex than I am too, supposedly they even have a different word for it… they call it, love-making or even worse…cuddling.
And let me be frank, but the thought of cuddling makes me gassy. The act of cuddling makes me gassy. Skittles after this so called “love-making” makes me gassy. So me kicking a dude out of my bed after sex, isn’t necessarily an intimacy issue it’s more of a “get the fuck out of my bed, or I’ma cut you and then fart into your flesh wound” issue.
…Whatever, it’s my fucking bed…house rules.
