This one is from the Montana Cafe:

Redhead: So I ask him, "Oh, for crying out loud: must you be such a guy? How about some details?—your girlfriend's name, which part of the state you're living in, what kinds of projects you're taking these days, what your aspirations are for the future, how the pieces of your life fit together, how much ass-sex you're getting, stuff like that . . ."

Blonde: But he is a guy.

Redhead: Exactly. And I kind of get that. But must a girl dig for everything?

Blonde: With that type of man—with most men—yes.

Redhead: That's what he told me. It's like, "If we were having coffee, or if you'd start giving up the goods, I'd have no problem in talking about my life. I avoid, however, doing that via e-mail. I really don't mean to be such 'a guy,' but that is, after all, what I am. And of course I'm not getting enough ass-sex for my tastes."

Blonde: For a macho guy, that's a lot of disclosure.

Redhead: Doesn't count. It's about sex. They're allowed to talk about that.

Blonde: You should consider playing for the other team.

Redhead: Again? Anyway, I can't stand women. They talk too much.

Blonde: Then it's time to jump the species bar.

Redhead: I hear dolphins are smart. Hm. How much do they talk?

And I thought I was messed up.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 02:12 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 239 words, total size 1 kb.