In case you haven’t been reading this italicized area, Nicole is the author of the Lady Killer columns. I’m making this extra special announcement after catching minor flack for my video “Zilla Rocca Schools You on Girls”. I hope the same amount of drunken gripes are cast upon Nicole, even though both of us speak ONLY the truth every time we step in the booth. Part one of this ongoing mini-series is located at the end of the post. Enjoy!
1. I think you’re cute and all (why else would we be laying up in this bed together?) and you seem to think the same of me (for real?), but please don’t stare at me longingly and for extended periods of thrust while we’re doing what we’re doing here. You don’t know me like that to be all up in my soul. Just barely enough for me to be all up on your pole.
2. Smutty conversation is admissible. In fact, I encourage kickin’ that trash vernax. Use your tongue for something other than whatever you swear you’re doing well down there. However…
3. Dirty talk, make that any talk, during our dalliance is not beyond the interpretation of regular talk. If we were in the mean streets and you were stabbing me upon my person and I, in a fit of stab-rage screamed, “Yo, cuz, you’re killing me because you are stabbing me upon my person!” I would assume you would stop killing me. Same rules apply to those times you are railing me with such go-go-gusto that physical pain is brought upon my person. Sort of like being stabbed upon my person. But with your dick. So when the time comes and I do say “Yo, cuz, you’re killing me over here!” this does not mean that I am loving what you’re shoving. This also does not mean that you know what to do with all that wasted homicidal rock and that I just “can’t handle it.” Joke’s on you, boo.
4. As a general rule, men fare better against technology than women. Most of those I know love button-mashing a gadget into submission. It’s a little sexy. Why is it then, that men can’t compose a text message for balls? Or, if they do begrudgingly decide that a response is in order, it’s never timely and always single-worded? I just typed award winning prose, some of which was explicit in nature, and you, three hours later and beyond the window of time wherein I would still want to get freaky-deaky, decide that “Ok” is satisfactory enough to a woman in heat? You are not taking this seriously. I will keep that in mind when you are trying to seriously get to know me. On the inside.
5. There is no scent more timelessly seductive than soap. No I would not like to smell your roller-ball of Muslim oil, and I absolutely do not encourage wiping yourself down with magazine samples of Diddy. None of this is up for debate. You smell like a whore. Get out of my house.
6. I have learned a lot from He’s Just Not That Into You both in book and movie form. I know that you don’t want to have sex with me when you’re telling me you don’t want to have sex with me. I know that by you not answering my phone calls, you do not want to talk to me nor have sex with me. I know that when you tell me about the other women with whom you have regular sex, you probably don’t want to have sex with me. However, would you like to have sex with me?
7. On the bright side, though, I have come to understand why some women like to forge friendships when men rather than their womanly compatriots. For more than just the unlimited supply of dick. Men are light on the backbiting and subtle backhandedness. They are a simple creature. Man wouldn’t know the first thing about executing a champion level one-upping with a smile smeared across its smugly little face. Man wouldn’t try to do it with your boyfriend even though man had no interest in your boyfriend besides in proving that your boyfriend would probably fuck anything indiscriminately. Man doesn’t talk in a baby voice. Man doesn’t pretend he wants to fuck you until it’s time to fuck you when man decides he doesn’t really want to fuck you, he just wants to kiss a lot. I might even go so far as to say that I’d rather hang out with the douche-coiniest of rape bros, have him execute a bro rape on me, reverse bro rape him in self defense, and then press bro-vs.-raped charges against him that I will later drop when I learn that he is a rich bro rapist. That, all of that…than hang out with more than 88% of women.**
8. I see that you’re still wearing your sunglasses inside this building here. This building wherein the sun does not shine usually, you know, because it’s a night club where people go in the night time.
9. Why is your pinkie fingernail so long? Are you cracking open blunts or stabbing folk in the eyeballs in self-defense? And if the answer is neither, you might want to fill in your dawg, Jeeves.
10. When dudes start asking questions they needn’t, I simply reply with, “Do I mind your business?” (Which I don’t because I don’t care enough to do so.) And they say “No.” And then hopefully shut the fuck up. It’s a simple mom-approved tactic effective in keeping the gossip girls at bay.
**That said, if you are a cool woman and you think that I am a cool woman and you’d like to do cool womanly things with me, please direct yourselves to the comments section wherein I will screen you for coolness and then execute a bro rape on you. A bro friend rape.
Previously on ClapCowards.com: