When did I become such a giant pussy all of a sudden? Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t recognize that there is something almost magical when your hard shell turns weak for a woman.
Man card. Revoked. Might as well tuck my dick between my legs now and start watching Ellen.
In life, I am a beacon of assholeness to pretty much anybody who doesn’t see shit the way I do. And I am proud of it. And yes, assholeness is a real word; I just made it up, eat a dick if you don’t agree (see what I mean about my assholeness). Geez, this guy.
At work? Do it my way or pack your bags. Men? Don’t own up to your role as dads and I’ll gladly point it out to you. Emphasis on Gladly. Men who don’t work on their careers? Oh god do I even need to finish this sentence. Yeah, big bad tough Me.
Then comes along The Her.
Big giant fucking pussy over here when I hear that giggle. Her perfume’s scent as she walks by. Batted eyes making me look like I have the willpower of an injured puppy dog.
Songs sung like I just watched a romantic movie. Somebody fucking punch me already. All I can think of is showing her in my most passionate form, The Me, just Me, exposed in my naked form, both physically and emotionally.
Images floating around my head of kissing her. Smelling her hair. I mean really smelling her hair, for a sustained whiff, so I can hold onto that memory, so when I get an inkling of her shampoo somewhere else, I can remember Her.
Sliding a hand between her legs and dwelling in the moan that lept from her voice. Images floating around my head of fucking her in public on the hood of the car on the side of the freeway as people fly by unaware that I am balls deep in her in a risky way. Just raw passion, anytime, anywhere.
Weak. A big giant pussy over the idea of Her.
God, I hate this shit and love it at the same time.
Also published on Medium.