Dry Spells, the Myth

Dear Readers,

Ladies and gentlemen todays topic is the myth of the ” Dry Spell”. This is the label give to the period between relationships and it’s mostly directed towards women. Ladies there is no dry spell.  First, why are so many women running backs and forth between so many relationship and situationships that’s not working? Second, aren’t you drained from all of the mental, physical and financial  stress and drama  brought on from being in the wrong relationship?

Getting back to the subject of ” Dry Spell” ladies think about how many times you’ve verbalized being depressed, stressed, frustrated, confused, sad, unhappy, drained, only to hear this feed back ” what you need is to relieves your pinned up emotions  by having sex” the world seems that we only run on two modes, need sex or having out menstrual cycle. Why are women being told to solve their emotional distress and other life problems  by having sex?

Why are we supporting women especially,  young girls, to go out and  give their bodies away?

Watch my latest video and let me here from you?

The Rants of a Gold Digger

Dear readers, I live in New York City, and I often ride public transportation. During my 30-minute commute to work, I am privy to people’s conversations. Below is the rantings of a young woman who some people might label a Gold Digger. Why? Because she dates and has relationships with wealthy older men. On this day she was with, a friend, this is what I heard.

 

I use to be a pro at this game of pretense. I do not know what’s gotten into me. It must be time for me to throw in the towel, surrender and retire. I use to have the best pick of men. Handsome, tight bodies, well-educated, and classy. Those men are few and far apart, now all that is left is old saggy toothless, balding, horny men trying to relive their youth. Currently, the old geezer that I am with I feel nothing but bitterness, anger and regret. I am trying to convince myself to stay, he old, boring and clumpy, but Mr. $$$$$$$$$$$$ bags is loaded. I detest when he looks at me smiling with his saggy, jaundice eyes. When I look at him, I feel the rage of contempt soaring through my blood. I had hoped in my last days to be rewarded with an Adonis, instead, I have been handed an old broken, cranky, smothering, needy, clingy stooped old grumpy senior citizen; trying to pretend that he still has it, whatever it is. When I am laying next to him, it feels like I am resting next to a nasty, slimy, fishy, whale. Maybe if he cut that enormous flab from around his waist, I might feel different. When his large, sloppy, wet, ashy, lips touch my skin, I disappear in my head and go to a faraway place. I cringe at the thought of those big clumpy hands touching me; having to listen to his voice that is piecing loud, thunderous, and lacks class. I remember one night when he bumped my leg with one of his long Frankenstein feet; he scratched my silky-smooth skin with one of his toenails that resembles a claw. Oh, Well, at least I got a diamond for my pain and suffering. I took a quick peek; I have to say that it was a big diamond. By the way, this women who was ranting about being with MR. Old Saggy money bags, she was dressed to the nines, designer labels from head to toe. However, I was curious why she was riding the train? Oh well. I had to get off so I did hear the end of her tale.

 

What say you?