Maybe if you stuck it in her A, you wouldn't need a B.

It's too hot to even think about soup.

I just wanna be freeeeeeeeeeee

Well. I tell them first things first, I'm in a dead-end job and I'm seekind a dumpy neurotic for mutual psychological torture, tepid sex, and co-dependency. I enjoy drinking, smoking, and self-righteous indignation.

Since honesty is everything, I am willing to admit that I have middling intelligence but try to appear smarter by affecting a world-weary air, memorizing useless facts, and chuckling at my own mean-spirited, agenda-driven jokes.

I'm 29, but look 39 and feel 49. Sometimes I have the urge to tell women that it they're a whiny, bitter shrew with a misplaced sense of entitlement and unrealistic expectations... in time they will become coolly hostile when I don't fulfill every unmet need they've ever had. Bonus points if they've just finished screwing every guy in town and but now want to take it slow with me.

I'm not shy in the fact that my perfect night out would include getting hammered in a sleazy bar while they flirt with seedy old drunks, followed by an embarrassing screaming match. I would be open to an unsatisfying fling that leaves me filled with regret and dread but prefer a long-term, soul crushing descent into booze and pills.

Since I don't discriminate, age is unimportant, but I will condescend to women under 21 and rehash mother issues with women over 50.