Come and knock on my door. I’ve been waiting for you. Where the da-da-da dis and dis and dis, Three’s Company too.
Ok, so I never learned the lyrics. Still, bring me some Janet and Terri (Chrissy can fuck off with her dingbat shit) and I’ll be giggling like Mr Furley (hot image in your mind, right). Right about now all the MILFs are laughing and the Junior Varsity subs are all scratching their heads.
Dual-subbed? Yes please. Well, maybe, maybe not.
I am getting to the point where I am pretty much assured a few things in life will never happen: I’ll never be the President of the United States, I’ll never win an Olympic Medal, I won’t pitch for the Yankees, and I’ll never have two women at the same time.
But I’m ok with that. Well, not the Yankees part.
Like George Michael said, “Sex is best when it’s one on one.” Granted he had to go get all dead and shit, but still, I think he has a point. Correction: “had”. Remember he’s dead.
You see, I love the intimacy part of sex. Kinda hard to be all “intimate” and lovey-dovey when my Janet is riding Terri’s face and Terri is taking my gargantuan (not really) cock all up deep in her rib cage (ok, maybe cervix).
And like the Tumblr name says, I’m a Romantic. When and if I am ever market available again, I’ll seek Love. And I get the feeling like Mrs Future Dominant will not want me balls deep in her BFF, no matter how many red wines we have down at the Regal Beagle.
Fine by me. I want to kiss a woman like I mean it, without worrying about tending to some lessor clit (the clinical term) on some other chick.
Jealousy sucks and is not worth the price of admission. Lose the girl you might Love for one night of checkboxes. Nah. Fuck that.
Bring me that one, singular girl.
The one I wake in the morning and check my phone to see if she texted. The one I play 80s ballads to and think of as I belt out a song, totally off key, fucking up the lyrics as I shout “If I Close My Eyes Forever” with the anger only Ozzy brings.
Come on, Kitten, be my Lita.
Yeah. That’s what it’s all about. Threesomes be damned. I want her. Every last single bit of her. Her deep stories. Her giggle. Her tears in sadness. Her tears in bed. Her tears in happiness. Her making me Chicken Noodle soup when I am being a total pussy when I get the sniffles and somehow forget I am a man. I want Her everything.
I want to show her, every way I can, what she means to me. I want to earn, so she doesn’t ever have to worry. I want her to be proud of me. I want to kiss her in front of her Facebook diva cunt squad and make them envy her for the life she has.
I want to eat her pussy every fucking night. I want her scent soaking my goatee. I want my eyes burned into her memory when I pound her pussy and she cums an inch from my face.
I want intimacy – off the fucking charts.
Nothing takes center stage over that. No threesome of awkward “put your finger here” moments. Nope. Fuck that.
Give me her. Just her.
Yep. Her. Intimacy. That’s the best shit around.
Is it love that’s on my mind or is it fantasy?
Heaven is in the palm of my hand and it’s waiting here for you