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That’s what my mother told me over the phone yesterday in so many words.

Mom:  Why aren’t you settled down yet?
Me:  Just lucky, I guess?
Mom:  Don’t be a wiseguy.  You’re dating these young girls during their prime years and not marrying them.  Poor things.
Me:  I can’t believe my own mother isn’t on my side.
Mom:  You’re stealing the best years of their lives!  Don’t you feel guilty?
Me:  I dunno.  Did you feel guilty when you didn’t put out for a guy you were dating?

Mom:  Grow up!

Afterwards, I did ponder the wreckage of lives I have left behind in my copulatory wake.  Technically, I should feel some guilt.  If we define the prime marrying years of a woman to be between 21 and 26 — too young and she’ll be emotionally ill-equipped to perform her wifely duties of indulging my every need; too old and I’ll be emotionally ill-equipped to accept her indulgence — then I have squeezed the juice out of the ripest years of quite a few girls.  For free.  The next beta in line will be stuck marrying the rind.

I take a philosophical view of my biological thievery.  While I have reneged on my end of the deal, many women renege on theirs when they string a man along in LJBF perpetuity.  What guy with bloated testes hasn’t heard this from a girl he really liked:  “you’re my friend. i just don’t see you in that way.”

Therefore, my actions are helping to bring balance to the force.  On the cosmic scales of justice the cads and the cockteases are locked in battle supreme for everlasting victory.  I unsheath my sword with strength of purpose.

On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being tongue lightly grazing the cheek and 5 being tongue firmly pressed to side of mouth, this post was 2 tongue in cheeks.


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