I could go on for tomes if I weren't too deep into a bottle of red to be kind. And that's what the good and decent girls do. We play nice.
The ladies with the worst behavior get rewards from the men they manipulate. And the ladies with the good behavior, that you should worship, fucking hate that men are that stupid. Then pity them. Both.
God that's good. And I wrote it.
We stay neutral, like Switzerland. We ask for what we need and accept less because, after all, your needs are important too. We get that. Right good girls? Meanwhile my needs sit at the bottom of an amber bottle on bad nights and on the seat of a bike at the gym on better ones. Working it out, rushing it out. Damn if I didn't make it to the gym tonight. Wish I had.
Still you won't find me easily bashing women with so little self-esteem they stay in relationships for the security. Manipulate their way into declarations of love (whatever that is) with men who are okay with it. Accept it. And good girls don't reflect back insecurities about themselves and wonder why no man ever loved her so deep that she believed it...oh, I mean them...and wonder if they're simply too rainbow bright and fudge-ripple-with-sprinkles in a world of vanilla to ever be scooped out as more than sample spoon.
We make it easy for you to love us.
But tonight I have a bottle of red.