Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Where have all my drunk sluts gone?
What on Earth is going on with my girlfriends? In college I must have had at least five girlfriends who could be classified as Drunk Sluts--- and I mean that in the best sense of those words: Pretty girls who like to get drunk and fuck boys. No value judgement here. I've been aspiring to be a drunk slut ever since I met them. These girls are hot, if one believes that girls can be hot. All of these girls have fantastic tits. Really. You'll have to trust me on this. I've seen them all naked (straight guys would call this one of the best "perks" of being gay, which it most definitely is not). Each cleavage grander than the Grand Canyon. Each can have pretty much any guy they want. One bedded a gorgeous, muscly, married campus security guard; another did this blond preppy bicycle enthusiast with a great back; another rode this hot little shy boy with the firmest ass on campus. Bottom line: They did very well for themselves.
But now something curious is happening to these swinging single ladies. They're changing their ways. They are deliberately casting aside their powers. They're becoming shells of their former selves, they're becoming pod people: They're becoming.....I can barely bring myself to type the word......monogamists. Now, before you start to think of this as another one of my bitter attacks on relationships, stop. Some relationships are great and many people in them are happier for it. But most of my friends in relationships, up until now, have been relationship people. They work regular jobs. They own property. They have certain responsibilties that are best shared with another, preferrably someone they also like to have sex with. They have lives together. Great, fine, good for them. Basically, the relationship-inclined have a tendency towards predictability and playing things safe. Again, this is not necesarily a bad thing, and I would be lying if I said I didn't, at certain times, want someone special in my life, if only so that I could get head more frequently. At any rate, there was always a relationship type among my friends, but now, with these drunk sluts pairing off like squirrels in springtime, the relationship type is becoming far more difficult to grasp. And I'm truly shocked that these women would throw away their considerable powers over many nice penises for The One Penis. It's like Superman giving up his powers in "Superman 2" so he could be with Lois. I mean, she was swell and all, but he could shoot frickin lasers out of his eyes!
Of the five drunk sluts, 2 were already in long term relationships. And, to be frank, they are the least powerful and least titalicious of the group. And now, in the past 2 weeks, 2 more have fallen. One is already talking about moving to California to be closer to her man whom she just got together with last week! The other has just become engaged. Engaged! Engaged at 25! I want to shake this girl, this fabulous slut who is dismisses any penis under 7 1/2 inches, and scream at her, "HOW ARE YOU GOING TO WASTE THOSE AMAZING TITS OF YOURS?!" Is she really done with all the hot dicks she's had? How can she not want more hot dicks?
At this point it may occur to you that maybe I'm just projecting. And maybe I am, but that doesn't change the facts. The facts are these: These drunk sluts have had some sort of existential crisis, and, instead of letting the dark clouds pass, they have acted rashly. Patience is not one of the virtues of a drunk slut. On the prowl this serves them well, but it's not good for existential crises, which must be faced down, alone, in a dark alley, and kicked in the shins with ball-toed boots. These drunk sluts have forgotten the proper order of things. They have misplaced their priorities. I don't how or why, but I do know they need help. These drunk sluts have lost their way.
But now something curious is happening to these swinging single ladies. They're changing their ways. They are deliberately casting aside their powers. They're becoming shells of their former selves, they're becoming pod people: They're becoming.....I can barely bring myself to type the word......monogamists. Now, before you start to think of this as another one of my bitter attacks on relationships, stop. Some relationships are great and many people in them are happier for it. But most of my friends in relationships, up until now, have been relationship people. They work regular jobs. They own property. They have certain responsibilties that are best shared with another, preferrably someone they also like to have sex with. They have lives together. Great, fine, good for them. Basically, the relationship-inclined have a tendency towards predictability and playing things safe. Again, this is not necesarily a bad thing, and I would be lying if I said I didn't, at certain times, want someone special in my life, if only so that I could get head more frequently. At any rate, there was always a relationship type among my friends, but now, with these drunk sluts pairing off like squirrels in springtime, the relationship type is becoming far more difficult to grasp. And I'm truly shocked that these women would throw away their considerable powers over many nice penises for The One Penis. It's like Superman giving up his powers in "Superman 2" so he could be with Lois. I mean, she was swell and all, but he could shoot frickin lasers out of his eyes!
Of the five drunk sluts, 2 were already in long term relationships. And, to be frank, they are the least powerful and least titalicious of the group. And now, in the past 2 weeks, 2 more have fallen. One is already talking about moving to California to be closer to her man whom she just got together with last week! The other has just become engaged. Engaged! Engaged at 25! I want to shake this girl, this fabulous slut who is dismisses any penis under 7 1/2 inches, and scream at her, "HOW ARE YOU GOING TO WASTE THOSE AMAZING TITS OF YOURS?!" Is she really done with all the hot dicks she's had? How can she not want more hot dicks?
At this point it may occur to you that maybe I'm just projecting. And maybe I am, but that doesn't change the facts. The facts are these: These drunk sluts have had some sort of existential crisis, and, instead of letting the dark clouds pass, they have acted rashly. Patience is not one of the virtues of a drunk slut. On the prowl this serves them well, but it's not good for existential crises, which must be faced down, alone, in a dark alley, and kicked in the shins with ball-toed boots. These drunk sluts have forgotten the proper order of things. They have misplaced their priorities. I don't how or why, but I do know they need help. These drunk sluts have lost their way.
