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"Hobobob, why don't you talk about relationships anymore?"What? You want to hear my views about relationships? Awww, c'mon. There are a million things that I can talk about. Everything from cheap coal to wind power. There are more important things than relationships. Besides, I'm as biased as a motherfucker when it comes to relationships. What can I say? Relationships are a difficult thing. It's a crafty sonuvabitch that has a purpose in mind, and that's to bite you in the ass. If you're lucky.
I am surrounded by men that are in disastrous relation- ships. It never ceases to amaze me just how crazy life can be until you reach 50 and you're hanging around a bunch of 50 year olds who have no significant others. I know I want a significant other, but she has to be the right type, and they are just hard to find.
First I would need to find a white knuckled princess. A real mean bitch that had a mean streak a mile long but in the middle of it, can translate that shit into some white hot passion when it calls for it. I mean, any woman can be a useless bitch, but it takes a special one to know when to turn the water off the fucking tap and give it a rest. It takes a special one to be able to also turn that shit around, especially in bed, and know how to make sex exciting. That's what the real deal is. Not that flip floppy fish that falls on her back and moans and groans, no doubt staring at the ceiling and yawning. Fuck no. I'm talking about one that if her ass is bored, comes into the room with toys! To either use on her or on me. Whatever gets her shit going. That's what I mean by a white knuckled princess.
Next she has to have a cast iron constitution, and a willingness to try to drink me under the table at least once in awhile. One that can get drunk and not become a senseless, lousy drunk. Have you ever met a woman like that? She's as sweet as punch while she's drinking the chick drinks. Laughing, being coy, handling intelligent conversation, and then when the night switches around to stronger drinks and when some serious fucking is looming ahead later in the evening like an oncoming car crash, she gets shitty. First she talks about her parents, her cats, her ex-boyfriends. Then she'll talk about YOU! Suddenly she has a dangerous insight, keen sense of right and wrong, snappy wit, far reaching intelligence, but that's just the hooch talking. Really, shes stupid and mean and nasty and vindictive. She's the cat's pajamas of a useless motherfucker.
I want a woman who can hold her liquor, and have a good time with you, laugh with you, still hold a decent conversation and still be your close friend, and not your best adversary because she can throw all your personal shit back into your face when she's wack-tack-shackiated.
Further, what happened to all the women that learned how to dress hot. Where the fuck did they all go? Did they suddenly look at a chick magazine and notice that they do not have a model's body. Or see a movie star's hourglass figure on television and decide that they have nothing going for them. So that they dress frumpy. Like your mother, or your gradeschool teacher? What the fuck happened? A woman doesn't have to have a million dollar body to be hot, and dress that way. Shit, I saw recently a really fat chick, I mean fat. With thighs like spring hams, and rolls of fat, floppy tits and arms so big that she could use them to flap away. And this bitch was in a skin tight, black mini-skirt and a form fitting blouse. Mamma knew she looked hot that night.
What I'm saying, and that's an extreme situation, is that a woman does not have to be built like a brick shithouse to be attractive in some tight, hip hugging, short hemmed number. Have them small tits busting out of the top of that dress. Have those scrawny, or pudgy legs showing under the hem of that skirt. Put on those fucking spaghetti straps and lets get the fuck out the house you I can show your pretty ass off like a prized racehorse. A man should be proud of his woman, just as she would like to be proud of you. And trust me, when you go out shopping, and she goes out with you doesn't she pick out what you look best in? But let me ask you. Can you do that shit for her?
And lastly, I want a woman who likes my friends. I happen to like hers, even when she's mercurial about the relation- ship, which is about 60% of her friends. But on the other hand, all she tries to do is alienate you from your buds. And the only way you can keep her from torpedoing your lasting friendships is to go places with your buds and keep her out of the loop. Then she acts like a bitch about it, not really realizing that she is the very cause of your actions. Fuck that. Take that bullshit somewhere's else. Bro's before hoes, as they say in the ghetto.
Well, that's the Hobobob overview of relation- ships. I hope you liked it, and I hope you take something away from it. I know I did. A headache.
Hobobob
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