Find A Man That Will Bring You TP For Your Bunghole

buy tylenol “HELP! DAVID! DAVID WHERE ARE YOU? COME HERE PLEASE IT’S AN EMERGENCY! I’M GOING TO DIE DAVID, WHY DON’T YOU CARE? DON’T YOU LOVE ME? DO I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU ANYMORE?” I screamed in horror from the bathroom.

I can hear David’s feet shuffling down the hallway in agony. Seconds later he opens the bathroom door in defeat and with a sigh, he says “Yes dear?”

“I need TP for my bunghole.”

“You’re disgusting.” He mumbles.

“This is just who I am David, love me for me and get me some Charmin!”

This is an example of the daily torment I put the hubs through.

I use the word torment because that is how David describes it. I, on the other hand, I like to think of it as bonding. You see, I don’t know how else to bond. I like to joke around, roast him because it builds character and touch his butt. He’s Amish, I don’t know what else to do with him.

He likes to cuddle and hold hands. Wtf, right?

I’m kidding, I like to show affection but I don’t like to talk about it. Makes my stomach hurt. I can make some nasty sex jokes but bring up staring into each other’s eyes and holding each other until the sun rises, freaking deep throat me with a big ass wooden spoon.

“Why are you writing this?” You may be wondering. I’m wondering the same thing. It’s midnight, I’m sitting on my garage steps typing this as my neighbor’s horse moans like he’s being punched in the ass.

Seems like the perfect time to write, right? Rite on.

Anyway, back to my vulgarity.

As a child, I had a hard time understanding why I was such an obnoxious little tomboy. I would always leave someone’s house and think to myself “Why were you being so over-the-top? Why don’t you act more like a chick? And stop beating all the guys’ ass in basketball, ya butch!”

It used to bother me so badly that I couldn’t change no matter how hard I would try. Every time I did try, people would ask “Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong? You’re never this quiet.” After many failed attempts of trying to be someone I wasn’t, a light bulb went off in my head. “How about I just do whatever I want to do, say whatever I want to say and act however I want to act? If people don’t like it, they can lick my butthole. If I never get a boyfriend, oh well!”

I was so wise for an eight-year-old.

I wasn’t necessarily a bad kid, but I was a little shit head. I liked to push people’s buttons. See what made them tick. I would laugh at people’s angry reactions to my pranks. There are so many times I’ve been called a ‘little shit’. I probably thought my first name was little and my last name was shit.

Fast forward a few years and I’m in high school.

All those pretty little bitches in high school, I tell you what. I would think ‘son of a bitch the only person I’m going to attract is the Hall Monitor Dale if everyone’s going to look like they belong on the cover of Seventeen every effin’ day.’ My confidence shook for a minute there but I picked it back up. I knew high school didn’t mean shit and I wouldn’t date anyone there anyway because I didn’t offer blow jobs behind the bleachers during homeroom and I was a better athlete than 95% of them. #winning

I had more guy friends than girlfriends. I was probably the first woman ever who’s had “a ton of guy friends” who didn’t screw all of her “guy friends.” Why? Because I’m like a guy. One of the dudes. I do dude things. No dude wants to date a dude unless he’s into freaking dudes. I guess you could say the guys liked me because, well, I entertained them.

After high school, life changed tremendously. I moved out of my small town and lived with a lifelong friend in the city. I was enrolled in college but I probably went to under ten classes the nine months I was there. It just wasn’t for me. I refused to make friends because for some reason my personality wasn’t the outgoing personality I knew. I was just unhappy. I was very quiet, I would even say I was shy. Hard to imagine, right?

My confidence was gone like the mother lickin’ wind. I thought to myself,“This is what I’ve been wanting all of those years. To be less vulgar, quiet, act more like a lady. Maybe I’ll attract someone of the male species.” A few months of this and I was like “Fuck this shit.” –insert middle finger emoji-

If being a lady means not talking shit, only smiling with the occasional nod, acting like I didn’t have anything with substance to add to a conversation and not taking sex joke opportunities, then I wanted no part of it. That shit was depressing.

I wanted to spread my legs and fly. I wanted these titties to breathe. I wanted to get drunk and puke all over someone’s couch and not clean it up. I wanted to be me…again. (If you took this literally, God bless your soul).

So I did all of those things listed (lol j/k, kinda) and suddenly I found myself again. The loud one people either loved or they hated but hey, it’s who I am.

Don’t ever change for a man. Don’t be someone you’re not because you don’t think it’s attractive. Be yourself, always.

I’m sure that there are guys who never looked my way in the past are looking at me now. They’re telling people that they know me when they never gave me a spec of attention. They probably didn’t even know my name, but they know it now. What up, bitches?

Don’t give up on your quest of finding love. Someone out there can handle you and will deny loving every second of it. I guarantee there is a man out there, somewhere, who will bring you a roll of Charmin when you’re on the toilet yelling for TP so you can wipe your bunghole.

And when you find that man, marry him. Marry the shit out of him and torture him for the rest of his life.

He can’t wait to meet you.

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