Hit Me Where It Counts

In my youth, I had a wide enough selection of the female variety, formative enough to bring about all the depth I needed to find out the important things.

Whether a girl can give a mean beej is inconsequential and irrelevant. We all adapt. We all grow.

My own personal sexual prowess was and is a work in progress. The under construction sign is a perpetual landmark. The difference is, I just play in the big leagues now.

But the important shit? The real important things? Let’s just say, I’ve had the Chef’s Salad and found that I could do without the carrots, but discovered at a very early age that I absolutely couldn’t live without the greens.

Brains.

Big, bold, and brass confidence with the innate intellectual capacity to pick up on my ever-present sarcastic crack-a-joke-at-a-funeral type shit. A woman, who is not only capable but always brings something to the conversation.

Yeah. Give me that girl. All damn day long.

Driven. Strong. Will be just fine with or without me thank you very much. Yeah. Her. Give me that all goddamn day. Fuck yeah. I need that girl.

But super-hot dingbat? I had enough of her to kill a horse. I’ll welcome super-hot, but without the brains, no fucking thank you.

Bring her out to meet my friends and family and she sits quietly all night afraid to speak up and then breaks her silence to laugh at the wrong part of the joke? Ugh. Fucking spare me.

Your perfect tits can shoot Amber Ale out the nipples and I am still kicking your ass to the curb.

And lazy? Well, that shit is just better left unsaid. My depth of loathing for that personality trait will force me to buy a new iPhone as I fire it across the patio if I write any more on the deadly sin of sloth.

Or perpetually sad? I know I am supposed to be sensitive to your ever-constant state of sadness but I would rather smile and laugh in my life.

So why don’t you take your pretty little ass and tits with your pity party right the fuck out my front door Ms. Downer cause I don’t give two fucking shits why you can’t find the good in this world and dwell in it like the rest of us.

Bring me smart. Bring me happy. Bring me confident. Bring me a bold bitch who wants to fall off the couch laughing and I’ll show you a man who wants to make her fall off the couch cumming.

Take the gorgeous but boring, sad, lazy and dumb girl over to the beta boy who doesn’t know how to wreak havoc on your princess parts. I don’t have the patience for your shit.

I’m an Alpha. Fucking challenge me.

And I’ll wet those Victoria’s every damn minute of every fucking day.


Originally published at The Romantic Dominant.