As far as I’m concerned, a woman can come through to your Nobu reservation with her legs freshly waxed and mustache newly bleached, eat nothing but caviar and shrimp and still not have to buss it open for you. You can’t buy a woman’s intimacy and the assumption that you’ll get to sample these sweets just because you swiped your AMEX is wild. I mean, is it even a black card?
What makes you think that you deserve any kind of black, brown or pink magical realness just because you were the object of her gaze during a three course meal? Is that what diamond encrusted bikini betweens is worth to you? Baby boy, even the most seductive of licks across your silver plated fork couldn’t guarantee a piece of this pie.
She doesn’t want you bro. You’ll just have to accept it. I know rejection is painful and that you’ll soon feel an intense amount of pressure to release your inner pathological liar when giving the lads an update in the group chat but no, you didn’t hit it and no, this does not make her frigid. You may not be getting a sensual rub down from her tonight but I do know something that deserves a hot steamy massage into the early hours… your ego.
Ladies, you are worth more than a comfortable bed and an uncomfortable grope. A malignant promise of lobster and a desperate quarter bottle of pineapple Ciroc ain’t got nothing on your virtue. By all means have your fun but just know that your lovely lady lumps should not be mounted as an expectation… such a gift should be an expedition for his requisition.
He has to earn the right to penetrate your peaks. I mean if Drake can scream that his d*ck ain’t free, you sure as hell don’t need to be taking the price tag off yours.
Written by Chimmy Lawson