I want a fuck buddy, and I want one now.

people who know me think i’m a nice guy. i am, most of the time. i don’t care who you are or where you come from or what drug you snorted last night. that’s all cool with me.

some of my friends have reputations for not being the hardest girl to get into bed. most of my friends aren’t that hard to get into bed, if you know what you’re doing. hell, even if you don’t know what you’re doing it’s not that hard to get them into bed.

just don’t befriend them.

of course i didn’t know this at the time. how else would you end up with a posse of some of the most eligible, willing women in college and no action to show for it? they wouldn’t do me because somehow it would be like having sex with your father. you just don’t screw people you care for.

IT’S JUST BLOODY SEX, DAMMIT.

so anyway, here i am, that kind of guy who doesn’t play around. should i say didn’t? i don’t know. i just can’t seem to play around even if i know it’s a no harm no foul situation. i’ve seen too many fuck relationships gone wrong. i’ve been the clean up guy for far too long.

and yet! when we guys get together and talk our guy things and how he got laid with whom, chances are, i know that girl. chances are, she’s told me she’s horny and willing to screw anything. chances are, she’s told me that, sorry, everyone BUT you.

I KNOW IT CAN DRIVE A MAN INSANE.

you know, they’re not that bad looking. i can understand it if their face somehow reminds you of zorayda sanchez, or if she makes jessica zafra look really pretty (aside: one of my friends is that way, she became the fuck buddy of this texan millionaire… all the panglalait she received turned into good karma… wow). but they don’t. i wonder how they’ll look like when i’m wasted. they might look even better.

the list is endless: i know your girlfriend, i don’t have sex with married men, and even if i did, i wouldn’t have sex with you. you’re a great guy. it’s all bullshit. i don’t buy it. even the great guy part.

if i was so great, WHY DON’T I GET LAID?

do you know the meantime girl? here’s a message from the meantime guy: fuck you. fuck you and all the emotional baggage you heap on me every time you think you need someone emotionally to lean on. fuck your high horse that allows you to screw all of my guy friends BUT me.

i just had a fight with one of my best friends in the whole world. it was a bitter argument, but we ended up patching things up. yet things will never be the same. there isn’t any make-up sex to heal a wounded friendship, you just go on sulk in your own corner and look for the lubrication that you bought the last time you walked into a sex toy store.

now, if you’re finished ranting about that best friend you fell for (again) who left you because he found someone hotter, please excuse me. perhaps mr. fist and ms. blow up doll will show me more appreciation.

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