Confession Point

I wish my married co-worker’s wife would run off with a used car salesman because I want him for myself.

I also must confess that even though I never met the woman face-to-face, I hate her guts. Being my complete opposite, she represents all that I despise about being a female. Just the fact that we have genitalia in common makes me sick, although mine is well-groomed and I’m not plagued with contant yeast infections.

I’m not saying I hate being a woman, I’m saying I hate being associated with boring, uptight, SUV/minivan driving Mommies who talk in nasal voices and yack incessantly into their cell phones and shave their necks. I think the idea of such a woman coming home and finding a naked hippie heathen under her precious Hubby Wubby is HILARIOUS.

Unfortunately, I have too many morals to carry this out myself. I sure don’t want him dipping his wick into her greasy, hairy yeast burger and then dipping into my tight, clean kitten. Yuck. Even if he stuck his weiner in boiling water it wouldn’t be enough.

I’m also secretly angry at men who marry these boring, uptight hags because they think it’s the safe and easy thing to do. Have fun going without sex for the rest of your lives. Oral sex is now a distant memory. Why do you do this to yourselves? I’m a fun, easy-going woman. I’ve had one sexual partner, I have all my teeth, I don’t look bad, I’m healthy. But because I’m the kind of person who other people may find appealing for whatever reason, I’m not safe.

Have fun with your harpies with their capri pants and their Keds and their neck stubble. Fun, sex and affection are so overrated when you have a big, fat hound dog that sits at your side and nags your ear off every night. She may be annoying but garsh, she’s loyal. Is it worth it?