what it is, is what they see, is what they buy into.


it's funny how men comment on your pubic area (not to be confused with your public area).

especially the ones you've only fucked once. or maybe never. and even if you did, you certainly don't want to go back for sloppy seconds.

funnier still are the ones who comment on this to a third party. chances are, if this party is mutual, you will be privy to every critique/comment/"she has no pubic hair."

making this even more tragic, almighty protagonist, is that this girl ever even showed you her muff, or lackthereof. silly girl.

really, our hero in this situation is the lucky bush, trimmed back so far as to never have had to see the big clumsy fingers coming at it like mortar to pestle. or the scratchy cat tongue flailing around at it like a fish out of water (my apologies for the fish reference). and perhaps the luckiest our hero-bush will be in this story, is in the avoidance of having to see or feel or hear the very boring but persistent fallacy approaching.

yawn

and by hear, i mean the gross, deliberate, undulating moans and forced "ohhh________'s."

i'd say this bush was damn lucky it was well maintained and manicured. i, like the bush, wish that i had been MIA for this gross encounter in the trenches- much like another bush, who happens to be president. lucky little bushes, we're dealing with.

sometimes it is what it is.

this time, it wasn't what it was.

self-glorification is for suckers.

but forgiveness is divine, so let's sweep it under the proverbial rug/carpet/muff/bush and move on.


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