I recently heard a man bemoaning the fact that he was late to meet his woman someplace. The obvious tone of his lament was that he didn't even LIKE this person but was gonna mope along anyway, I imagine, just for a chance to smell it. I hear men bitching all the time about their girlfriends--women of their OWN choosing--and how they, the poor bastards, have to put up with every little annoying this or that for the rare times they get to shut the bitch up with a pitiful length of dick.

Maybe you're into shitty, sexless relationships...or maybe she looks enough like one of the Olsen Twins in the dark, from behind, to tolerate the situation. But if you'd rather not trade your freedom and happiness for one sweet lick of trim, read on.

Drop your dry, crabby, cunt of a girlfriend. If she's withholding sex, she's either being manipulative or she just doesn't like you or your cock very much. So walk away. She thinks she can do better anyway, and, yeah, she probably can...so don't look back.

Here's a little advice for your foray back into the jungle of silky possibilities, an important lesson I learned as a child from a couple of dogs....

At a grownup cocktail party, two dogs were working the room for handouts. "Jack" was a big, sloppy, black lab who always looked loaded. He would crisscross the room sweeping shit off tables with his thick tail, ramming his wet black muzzle into your crotch or up your ass...anything to get your attention and make long and drippy eye contact with you and your food.

"Little," on the other hand, was a small, chubby lap dog of adorable mixed breeds who could give a fuck about you, what you were eating, or whether you lived or died. So all night long, "Jack" got yelled at and shooed away. At the same time, the party-goers offered "Little" their cheeses, their mixed nuts, and their stinking smears of foie gras, desperate to be liked by Little. By the end of the night, Jack had been put outside in the dog house, and Little was yacking up smoked brie and raisins in the kitchen.

Do you get where I'm going with all this ?

When you go back out there, even if you are desperate for sex, DON'T TRY. Look and act as if you could take it or leave it. Walk through the room as if you're dripping with girl-honey, and, sure, you love the stuff....but jeeez! Eeee-nough already! Don't try. An eager man is a dog's wet snout up your ass, and he will be scolded and put outside.

DON'T TRY.

Yes, it's true that when girls go out, we WANT you to notice, we WANT to be found attractive, but we don't always want to be approached. So for the love of God, even if we've drizzled melted butter across our tits and stuffed a sprig of parsley up our puss, don't make a move. Because if you, a man who's clearly single, isn't snuffling up our skirts, we start to wonder why. If you don't hawk, pounce, or ask us retarded questions about everything, we may get intrigued. We may start casting glances, flipping our hair, standing up and stretching, hoping to get your attention to see what you'll do. In essence, WE may start to try. When that happens, the rest is up to you and your ability to form sentences and show off your opposable thumbs.

You may be beyond help, or you may have a no problems, a big smile, and a thick, greasy cock. I'm only responding to the cries of help from horny guys that fling themselves into the fray, only to lose fist-sized chunks of their dignity. Plus, there's a fringe benefit for me: For every one of you I can enlighten slightly, there's one less humping doofus I'll have to swat off. Having been a saucy, switch-hitting landlord to one hot squeezee-puss my whole life, I know what it takes to get in there...but there are no guarantees, Soldier. At least try it my way once, because your way obviously hasn't been working.

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