What The Heart Wants

      Gentle Reader, I appreciate everything that you do for me. I am thankful for all of your comments, emails, and texts. I love that you love to read what I write. I love that some of you lose your minds and develop some sort of middle school crush on me. Though I must say, just because you can quote three lines from the blog, doesn't mean I am going to sleep with your fat, skanky ass. I have standards, and if you can't count the sum of your tattoos and abortions on two hands, I am pretty sure that counts you out. Especially if your total comes more from the abortion side. Just because I will fuck almost anything after enough beer, doesn't mean that I will sleep with you. My standards aren't exactly down to a science, but I guess they work something like this....

Swedish bikini model = No beer needed  (unless you've been with Tiger Woods)

Mexican weather girl = 2-3 beers needed  (plus an immigration/background check)

Sexy dancer at the club = 4-6 beers needed  (to make me forget you probably have herpes)

Girl that was cute in high school = 7-10 beers needed  (because let's be honest, you aren't that cute anymore)

Average girl I met a party = 11-15 beers needed  (yeah right, 11-15 beers? That's the minimum I'm going to need to even let you blow me tonight)

Redhead with a big mole on her face = 16-20 beers needed  (I guess I might kiss you, if all previous options are off the table and we are the last two people awake at a party)

Ugly bitch with a rep for sucking good dick = 20+ beers  (Normally you wouldn't even stand a chance, but I hear you like a good shot in the throat every now and again)

Gorgeous Japanese girl I met on the sidewalk = N/A  (Not enough beer in the world for that. I don't do Asians. I'm not racist; I'm just not turned on by gender-bending women with bowl-cuts that remind me of Data from "The Goonies")
 
       As I said before, this isn't an exact science. You must always figure in who is around, the time since my last masturbation, and if she has had her tubes tied yet. Let's be honest, if I can't get you pregnant, you move up two spots. I'm all for a woman's right to choose, but I don't want to kill a fetus. But I will kill a pregnant prostitute. I mean, really? Who's going to miss them once they're gone anyway?  Certainly not me, or the uncle that touched them as a child.

      On a serious note, sometimes you can't help who you are attracted to. Though you might take a step back and wonder what the fuck you are doing sometimes, the heart wants what the heart wants. Sometimes, people just "do it" for you. You can't explain why or how, but they just make you hold your breath when you meet them, you wonder why you feel the way you feel when you look in their eyes, and you spend the next week trying to figure out why you can't stop thinking about them. You get your hopes up, thinking that maybe you have finally found what you've been looking for, and for one reason or another, the whole thing comes crashing down around you. It is a moment like this that I call a "learning moment." Yeah, it didn't work out this time, but at least now you know that you can feel that way about someone you just met. I think as we get older, we get scared that we will never feel that way again. So, when that happens, that should give us hope that one day it will all work out the way we dream it will. Until next time, Gentle Reader.