Oh look, a post about relationships. Mine out of all of them. Good grief. I felt the need to express my inner romantic because without him, my passion for food would be uneventful. Almost like having sex with a lumberjack. He'll just kill you and you know it. Now I do believe in certain things that must be a staple to find in a woman, and food is one of them. If she doesn't eat, she's not for me. I want to find someone who'll order quail when we go out, instead of the 'seafood' surprise. I'm not saying she has to be upper class or snobby, but goddammit she better be ready to try different things otherwise I'm going to shit on her chest with an array of flavors never heard of before. Women are confusing.
My ex was somewhat outgoing. She's ordered the rack of lamb, and it made me happy. Until she said well done. I knew then, this wasn't going to last. After 3 freaking years, she JUST started ordering her food medium. MEDIUM. Bitch, give it to me bloody. Let the cow die in my mouth. Well, not really, I'm not for animal cruelty, but I just like my meat juicy. I want it to be flavorful. If you tell me you enjoy your steak well done, that just simply shows me you haven't tried much. Every cook in the world knows that when they see someone order a steak well done, a part of them dies. Believe me, people hate it. I've cooked a steak once for some crab-assed old lady after she continued to say it wasn't done enough, and finally pressed the shit out of the steak with a cast iron pan on the grill. It was paper thin, super cooked and looked like roadkill. She enjoyed it thoroughly and died the next day. Not really, but that's what happened in my head.
I just want to find a woman who'll be herself. I'm tired of fakes. I'm tired of party animals. I like to enjoy myself, party and have a good time. But every week? Come on girl, get a hold of yourself. You're not going to shrivel up and die if you settle down for a week. Take some time to yourself and find something to do. Not every day out needs to consist of red lipstick and washroom blow jobs. Sometimes, those blow jobs should be meant for someone else. Sometimes, it should be my penis in your mouth. But seriously, take that time and find yourself. Find what you want to do with your life and whoever you want to spend it with. Heck, if I can find someone that I'll end up marrying, that's bonus. I may be a sap for admitting that, but fuck you, at least this sap will be married and have kids who'll bully your kids and then your kids will become emo jerk dicks who'll end up attempting suicide with cat litter but fail and look like a total cock face and get laughed at. So there.
Seriously, I want a confident woman. A passionate woman, someone who'll tell me all about their likes and dislikes, and then continue to talk while I wander aimlessly away from her. I want to cook a meal for a woman, so then after she has consumed it all, I can begin to make love to her while she burps up the duck. I want to snuggle beside a fireplace that I don't own, and talk about how much she's given me in terms of joy, and how we can fix that problem in her sleep when she kicks me off the bed and starts to yell out loudly. I need a woman who'll beat the shit out of me when I hit on another woman, giving me the right to punch her back in the face, and then proceed to having sex on a bouncer's back. This shit gets hard, believe me. It sucks to be single knowing that you can have a relationship. But just having a relationship is not what I want. I want to be with someone who makes me. I want to have that other half of the pizza.
Speaking of food. If I can find a woman that meets my needs and I her, and she's a cook, then fucking bat shit I scored the jackpot. We would both work insanely stupid hours, and be covered with battle scars. We would have sex with our chef jackets and get back to service. We would compare knives, then fight to the death, only to be defeated by my sharp wit and erect wang. She would tell me how Ashley fucked up the pasta on the fly, and how the chef ripped her a new asshole, and we would laugh heartily as we eat pasta made perfectly. On the fly.
Woman are strange. You think you understand them, and then they fuck your mind up x10. It's like they know you're a sappy shit and you want to date them, but they go ahead and direct you in another way so that you can hopefully find them again. Like meeting someone on the bus, only to see them one more time and then never again. Bitch, true love got Leo killed in Titanic. I'm not ready to drown. I don't care about the clothes you wear, nor the hair you've spent money on. I like subtleties. Like when a woman bends over to pick something up, and her hair shifts over her face, and as she looks at you, you fucking melt like the wussy shit you are. Fuck yeah! That's something to write home about, not how Jenay-nay looked fine in that leopard plastic jumpsuit.
I want me a woman. Done and done. She just needs to be herself. Nothing more. When I find her, I won't let her go. Not even when the earth starts to crumble, and the heavens begin to shatter. Not even when Lo Pan begins his onslaught of shit ruining. I want love just like any other person, but I want it to be for me alone. I would kill a man, knowing that it would get me the woman of my dreams. Okay maybe not kill, but I would definitely bite his nose and maybe kick him in the balls. Several times. Goddammit. Women are confusing.
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