I am too busy to blog. I bowl every Monday. I bowl with 16 year old girls from work. They often rub their breasts on me. I let them do it because that way they get to work out whatever daddy fantasies they have safely. If they tried rubbing against daddy at home daddy's little pecker would get hard, and when daddy gets a hard on, daddy needs to be taken care of.
My way the girls get to feel the rush and excitement of pressing against a man old enough to be their father without all the baggage and psychological damage that having an incestuous relationship can give them. All because I have masturbated the feeling out of my penis during the last 5 years of gender enforced abstinence.
I blame that abstinence on women my age who have spurned me, all because they refuse to grow up and settle down with a man who earns half of what they earn, just because they think they deserve better, even though we both know that you will be staying home alone again on Valentine's Day, unless you count the cat you rescued from the kill shelter. The cat that never learned that it's ok to be loved, and he attacks you every time you go to place food down for him. Which I guess just goes to show you that love always hurts.
Which is why on Febuarary 14th you will be downing loads of Ben & Jerry's ice cream and watching reruns of old Katherine Hepburn movies, because even though she won 5 Oscars she died alone. She died alone all because the older a woman gets the more society hates them. Not that you didn't already know that, but the real reason you get depressed (even on made up romatic holidays) is because you are finally coming to terms with how your sexuality is reving up just in time for the all the men in your life to become disinterested by the sagging of your tits.
The good news is that I guess you now know what it's like to be me. Futile, huh? All that sexual energy and nothing to stick your penis sized clit into.
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