She minces no words.

Dont Mince Words

You must be this tall to ride

Posted on February 22, 2008 by Marna

Tonight I realized there’s a magical male age when they can play Jedi mind tricks with their dick and hold a conversation during a date without the fear that blood will be drawn from their brain.

The 31 year-old I was with was obviously the team captain of the cock Special Olympics. He was obsessed with my hair and had to touch it. Then he moved on to my body. I was curvy. I was perfect. I had a great ass. The compliments were nice, but not in the first 15 minutes of meeting me. I did my best to redirect the conversation. Reverse mortgages. Margaret Thatcher. Roger Clemmons. I said anything to distract him and to get some blood going to his brain.

The evening became hopeless when he wanted to guess my cup size. My Olympian guessed correctly. That’s about the time I should have declared game over and gone home, but it was raining harder and I knew he’d just continue to give me material. Two bourbons and four beers later he had a nickname for me and knew what our kids would look like. I think it was pretty safe for me to assume he was an alcoholic looking for the older woman score.

This experience has taught me that I need to raise my minimum entrance requirements. A smart cock in the hand is worth one in the bush another day.

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  • About Marna

    Marna’s writing career started as a Pentagon intern. Early exposure to $500 toilet seat press releases made her appreciate creative nonfiction. Now she has more than 25 years of senior-level marketing and communications success working with Fortune 100 companies, government, nonprofits, small businesses, startups, and agencies.

    Stats: 377 Posts, 132 Comments

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