Suzanne ∆∆∆, 21 – Norman, OK
Well, helloooo Suzanne! You tri-Delts are some dirty little girls…and I LOVE it! We’ll pretend for a second that I don’t have a Fabulous Fiancé while I talk about how you “get a little love” from the GMan. You’re on the right track. You see, The GMan doesn’t chase girls; girls chase the G. 97.2% of chicks I’ve gotten down with kissed me first. Partly because I’m scared to kiss new girls. Next time I’m at OU doing a blog signing, ask me to go for some drinks afterward. Take me to a dive bar. As we stand at the bar—I’m ordering Jack Daniels Rocks and you’re ordering anything but Jack Daniels Rocks—you’ll gently rub your chest on my arm. We’ll sit down in a booth, each on our own side, and you’ll tell me how I’m a great writer and that you love my new stuff as much as my old stuff. You’ll tell me stories, but not any stupid-ass stories about your dumbass ex-boyfriend who was more interested in watching football and playing Xbox than talking to you. Crinkle your eyes and look at me like I’m a new Barbie. After a few drinks, move to my side of the table and rest your thigh on mine. Wear a lot of perfume—something floral. I want to smell you on my shirt when I get back from tour. When the bar closes, we’ll go back to your place and make out. If it goes past a certain point, the magic will be ruined. This Almost will leave us with The Question. We’ll think about it when we’re older. You’ll watch my career, as life goes on with your husband and kids. Every fall, you’ll be just a little bit sad. There will be that song that you only listen to at that time of year. Alone and in your car, taking the long way home.
Next, it’s not weird that my engagement makes you want me more. Chicks want what other chicks have.
(Pretend I don’t have a fiancé again.) I will NOT send you a pic in a PM…until you send me one. I want to see your face and your belly button because that’s how I roll. As far as me sending you a pic, we’ll see.
A note to the fellas: Don’t ever send a picture of your dick to anyone. Especially if your face is in it. Tell the chick you will. Go buy some Johnston & Murphy’s and striped socks and send her a pick of that. Buy some fancy boxer briefs and send her a pic of the waist band. These teases will keep her going and keep her sending you pics of her sweet ass. And by the way, unless your dick is as pretty as mine, no one wants to see it.
Send that pic, Suzanne. I can’t wait!
I wish more men understood the struggles of women like you do. I am a fair-skinned girl who has years of massive spray tan fails under her belt. When I moved to Dallas a few years ago, I noticed that everyone was so hot and tan. I immediately started tanning and more than once I have looked like a streaky orange oompa-loompa. And those lotions at the grocery store are comical. Now, there are new custom spray tans done by people instead of machines where you stand there naked in front of a stranger and get customized colors and treatment with this spray gun thing so I am really considering giving this another chance. These magical spray tan professionals can make you look skinnier than you are. How great is this?! I am still a bit nervous so I just wanted to ask you if tanning is something you look for in a woman. Do guys really care about this stuff? What about that smell? I kind of hate the way I smell like not-vanilla.
Just want to look good for you,
Sara Beth ∆Γ, Kilgore, TX, born and raised
That being said, a nice spray can also lead to some comical…well I’ll just call them issues. I dated this girl—we’ll call her Splashley—and she got one of those fancy spray tans. Her hair was almost black and her fair skin was hot. For some crazy-ass reason, she decided that she looked gross. She didn’t give a fuck what I thought. The tan looked natural and there were no streaks. I loved the smell, by the way. Smelled like a stripper at the beach. MMMM. Anyway, there were some unexpected side effects of the fancy spray tan. There were parts of her body—creases in her elbows for example—that looked a bit purplish. She told me those areas would go back to normal in no time. I didn’t give a fuck due to the fact that she was hot. That night while we were watching Mary Poppins, I got all horny and decided to go down on her right as the penguins were serving up the tea and shit. I pulled those panties off and was shocked to see that her pussy lips were Kool-Aid purple. Purple pussy lips? What the actual fuck? And let me tell you, it did NOT taste like grape drank. I think the chemicals fucked up her PH balance and made it taste like…Never mind. Due to non-pussy-taste reason, we broke up soon after that and she ended up on a reality TV show about people addicted to eating crayons and shit.
So Sara Beth, make yourself happy as far as your tan goes, but put some bandaids over those sweet pussy flaps!
PS. To quote the Urban Poet Nelly, “As long as you are thicky thicky thick, girl, you know that it’s on.”