When Blue Balling Goes Wrong

So either I am a terrible human being, an awesome human being, a terribly awesome human being, or an awesomely terrible human being. I am sitting here recollecting on the past 12 hours and I don’t know if what happened can be considered hilarious, womanizing, misogynistic, short-sighted, selfish, insensitive, or just Machiavellian in regards to my dick. Damn you Trayvon, damn you. Yes, I am now naming my dick Trayvon because it deserves justice and is always wearing a hoodie made of foreskin.

Here’s my thing about women; I don’t expect sex from them and I don’t expect to get blue balled either. I’m not going to be a dick about it; especially when the chick that is passed out in my bed, that is currently blue balling me, accuses me of using her for sex. I know that trick and veterinarians call it neutering. However, I know if I am patient enough she will eventually cave in. That doesn’t help me at 6 in the morning with a full on erection. If I was raised in Kentucky I probably would have already forced the sex but my dad actually raised me to be a gentleman. I suck at it but a I try. Not raping or hitting women at least gives me a C+. Maybe if I didn’t blog about my booty calls and post topless pics of them I’d be the interesting Ginger in the world or something. I think I am but everyone gets hung on this political correctness shit or as I like to call it, “blue balling the male gender at large.”

Yeah, I don’t know what it’s like being a women and getting eyed up like a piece of meat but then again women don’t know what it’s like being wired to look at every attractive women in their visible spectrum as a masturbatory aid. Never mind when all the blood goes to the proverbial small head when women don’t even have a proverbial small head; they just have, “moods”. That’s difference between men and women; women have to be in the mood for sex while men are always in the mood for sex. Women expect men to get over their genetics yet women can’t get over their petty little feelings. That might sound sexist and I really don’t give a shit. Any women that would get pissed off about this is a waste of a vagina and deserves to get cervical cancer so that we can have less prude, bigoted bitches. Fuck them; oh wait, you can’t because they aren’t in the mood to put out.

Luckily, I have options and at that very moment one was texting me about how horny she was. This was ironic since I wanted to beat up some meat flaps in a pleasurable manner as well. I asked her if she wanted to come over but gave her heads up about the blue baller passed out in my bed. She simply responded via text with, “Ughhhhhh kick her out.” After I clarified that I was her ride she refined her request with “kick her out of the bed”. This is where whatever conscience I have kicked in and I had a moral dilemma; my dick or the blue baller’s feelings. Unfortunately my dick is passive aggressive and since the blue baller wanted to teach my dick a lesson Trayvon felt it was time for some justice. Honestly, blue balling is the George Zimmerman of sex acts.

I walked into the bed room hesitantly and fully aware of the shit storm of annoying that I was about to start; all for my dick. I looked at the blue baller for a moment and took a deep breath. I tapped her on the shoulder until she woke up:

Me: “Hey, ummmm, I got another girl coming over and I kind of need the bed. Could you sleep on the roommate’s bed?”

She gave the familiar, “Are you fucking serious?” and I just looked away trying not to make eye contact my dick had already made up its mind; holding the blood and logic for my bigger head hostage. The blue baller didn’t want to be used for sex and my dick didn’t want to be used to satiate her sense of self-worth. I saw this as a suitable compromise. Then again I wasn’t the one begrudgingly walking to the roommate’s bed. I had a feeling she was trying to prove a point by blue balling me which would work with most guys but then again I am not most guys because most guys think like a guy; i.e. a fucking idiot. Yeah, I might think with my dick but my dick works on game theory. What this means is that I try to pay attention to all the chicks in my life because that increases the odds of keeping my dick in a state of perpetual satisfaction. I always want justice for Trayvon; always.

The girl came over and we fucked in my now vacant bed. The sex was pretty normal. That’s not saying anything other than normal; in and out till ejaculation while acting like I care if she got off even though I think I do care. That’s when I heard the roommate walk into the house. The roommate that I thought would be at work till about 5 in the afternoon since he is the 9-5 type. I quickly threw on some pants and darted out to the living room where he was. I made some odd small talk before threatening him with my psychopathy if he didn’t give me a few minutes to get the blue baller out of his bed without any drama. He agreed; also in a begrudging fashion. People acting begrudgingly makes me want to act like Patrick Bateman.

I walked back into my room where the girl whom got me off says I should make the blue baller go to the couch while she gets her hair and make-up done so she can go to work. The blue baller is awake at this point and she is not happy. She is even less happy when I inform her of the couch idea.

BlueBaller: “Just take me home!”

I can’t argue with this thanks to whatever empathy I have in the presence of women that have fucked me. That’s the only way to get to my feelings; my dick. It’s the only reason why I am nice to women; my dick. It’s the only reason why I don’t punch them; my dick. It’s the only reason why I don’t hate them; my dick. My dick is the reason why I can think like a women minus the hate for them.

Eventually the girl I was fucking leaves after giving me my birthday gift; a UFC encyclopedia that covers everything about the Ultimate Fighting Championships up to about UFC 112. One on end it’s a nice gift but on the other end it’s a reminder of a time in my life that has become a sore spot. It reminds me when I actually I had hope based on sentimentality. A time when I actually thought that having a dream was enough.

She left for work and I went back into the house to deal with BlueBaller. As I walked to my room she walked past me to the bathroom while avoiding all eye contact. She was making believe that I wasn’t their. I was the giant elephant in the room since the blood had left Trayvon and returned to the big head. That was my realization. All I could do was sit on my bed in silence as I knew I was going to catch some shit. I always do from blue baller for this thing that I call, “having a dick”.

She claimed that I proved her point even though her point had now changed to me just being about sex. I wouldn’t say that I am only about sex. There is about a half an hour period after I cum when I think about things that don’t revolve around me dick. It’s probably only about 85% of the time at most. I mean I do think about other things like physics, psychology, comedy, and politics not mention how I look in the mirror and going to the gym to look better in the mirror. Besides her point, originally, was that I was using HER for sex which ironically means that she thinks in term of manipulation as well. The only difference is that I am aware of that quirk; she still lives in the silly little fantasy world of sentiment or “feelings” if you will.

That’s something I have a hard time picking up on with “normal” people; their feelings; most of the time they just come off as superficial trash to me when I do pick up on them. This also means that I hurt their feelings without realizing it. I explained this to BlueBaller along with the fact that I was kind of born a psychopath so I don’t really live inside of social norms which I think shouldn’t have to be explained to a chick covered in tattoos and piercings but what do I know? Maybe one day we will have a President Albert who sports a Prince Albert. I dropped her off at her car and she made a bee line for it like I….well….kicked her out of my bed to have sex with another girl. It’s funny she tried making a point with me and I ended up making a point with her.