Categories Humor An oldie, but Post author By Divemedic Post date March 2, 2022 5 Comments on An oldie, but People who have read this post: 401 ← It’s Official → Funny 5 replies on “An oldie, but” Been around a while now but this will save men lots of grief if they pay attention. I wish this had been common knowledge when I was a young man. I could have saved myself a lot of time, pain and money. “This would be your red heads, strippers, anyone named Tiffany (shouts from back of room: “hairdressers”).” Yeah, I’ve watched this one too many times. And it is still too close to the truth to be truly funny. Dude, I hear that. I have dated two women above the crazy line. Both of them required lawyers for the breakup. I lost my CCW for both, and had to fight to get them back. They seemed so normal when we started. My downfall was in not getting out immediately as soon as I saw the crazy. Read about the second one here: https://areaocho.com/prohibited-person/ Damn, you got nicked bad by these hoes. I’m fortunate (by pure dumb luck mostly) that I never took that kind of damage before I emerged from my cocoon of blue pilled betadom as the glorius shitlord pontifex maximus I am today. Ok, maybe I’m overselling that a bit. But I am now armed with the most dangerous and verboten of all knowledge (no, not the pictrues of all the shit that happened at Epstein island) in that I no longer take these chicks seriously. Lately, I seem to have drawn the interest of a 20 something hairdresser (“I’m an esthtetician!”…yeah, whatever sugartits) who may be (but probably isn’t, heh) a natural red head. Now, I could be stupid and parlay this situatuon into all manner of rambunctious fuckery, I’m sure. I ran into her last week briefly while out working, and as I excused myself from the conversation, she says “love you Ruckus”, then stares at me and says “aren’t you going to say it back?” So I replied “Yeah, I love me too.”. Ooooh, the stink face that got me. Anyway, I value my freedom, cash/property, safety and sanity too much to dip my wick into that vat of imbalanced brain chemistry and daddy issues. All the tells are there: tats, piercings (including the really good ones), openly speaks of smoking spliffs after work (probably before work, too) and is undoubtedly a freak in the sheets, at the park, on the kitchen counter or on the hood of a car, and yet all I can think to myself is “naw, don’t want to scratch the clearcoat.” Nor do I care to wake up to her holding a butcher knife over my sternum. Yeah, fuck that noise, it’s just not worth it. I’ll go monk mode before I tangled up in a mess like that. The More You Know™️🌈⭐ Comments are closed.