Your hair might not be for everybody. Heck, it definitely isn’t for everybody. Wisps of it go this way and that, and anyone
who looks at your head from the top of a building can practically see themselves
in your slowly growing bald spot. It’s
not a great look.
But tonight it won’t matter.
Because tonight you’re going to stop by a bar for a quiet drink at the
same time the “Daddy Issues Convention” lets out. That means that dozens of beautiful,
emotionally damaged ladies are going to come into the bar after venting some of
their deepest, darkest secrets and, after one look at you, see the father
figure that they never had in their lives.
Their inability to process love will translate their emotional desires
into sexual desires and they’ll collectively begin grabbing their boobs and
ramming their tongues into your ear.
You’ll have three women grinding on you at once, a cavalcade
of beauty affronting your senses, begging you to avail yourself of it. When you finally figure out how to pick two
girls and get out of there, you’ll have been accosted by two of the most
beautiful women of your life. They’ll
each insist on taking you back to their hotel rooms to ruin you sexually (which
is good, because your apartment is a sty) and, after some argument, they’ll
rock paper scissors to decide whose hotel room becomes a fuckfest first. Then they’ll head there with you and one of
the most amazing, experiences of your life will unfold.
When all is done, you’ll be laying in the second girl’s
motel room, covered in rug burns, sore in places you never knew, hair in such
disarray that the bald spot will be visible if you so much as sit in a
chair. But for the first time in your
life, you’ll be happy. Really, truly happy. Which says a lot about you, since really you
were just used as a crutch for two emotionally damaged, though incredibly
attractive, people. We’d leave it for
you to sort out, but we know you won’t get it, so here’s the summary: you’re
going to die alone.
Congratulations Wispy Haired Fellow!
