Article: 22624 of alt.peeves From: enoid801@dumpthiscomcast.net (Citizen Ted) Newsgroups: alt.peeves Subject: Back Off, Bitch! Organization: EarthEnders, Inc. Message-ID: <3f16a33b.39754453@netnews.comcast.net> X-Newsreader: Forte Agent .99g/32.339 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 224 NNTP-Posting-Host: 12.230.0.100 X-Complaints-To: abuse@comcast.net X-Trace: sccrnsc03 1058251193 12.230.0.100 (Tue, 15 Jul 2003 06:39:53 GMT) NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 15 Jul 2003 06:39:53 GMT Date: Tue, 15 Jul 2003 06:39:53 GMT Path: news.meer.net!sea-read.news.verio.net!dfw-artgen!sjc-peer.news.verio.net!news.verio.net!pln-e!extra.newsguy.com!lotsanews.com!news.maxwell.syr.edu!wn14feed!worldnet.att.net!204.127.198.203!attbi_feed3!attbi.com!sccrnsc03.POSTED!not-for-mail Xref: archive.mv.meer.net alt.peeves:22624 It's genetic. Oh sure, the women here will chime in and say, "*I'm* not like that! I feel the same way about it as you do! You don't know SHIT about women, you weak little thimble-tugging loser-boy!" But the fact remains: there is a dominant gene in the female phenotype that creates an innate desire to "cuddle". I fucking hate "cuddling". I have a better idea: let's just disengage and go to sleep, OK? And do me a favor: don't try re-cuddling at 5:20 in the morning because you happened to feel all a-flutter when you wake momentarily and feel my lovable spooge sloshing around inside your quim. Just because YOU feel all lovey-dovey doesn't mean I want to rescind my right to get a full night's sleep! And no, I'm not a pump n' shoot tub-bellied laggard who rolls onto a chick, spits out a quick drop or two then rolls back off and falls into deep sleep. Fact is, I'm pretty damn good in the sack. I'm going to be 39 next week and I can still bust more nuts than I have testicles in one long session of athletic lovemaking. I routinely dole out multiple orgasms to any woman capable of experiencing them. I'm not pushing you off because I don't like you. I'm pushing you off so I can GET SOME FUCKING SLEEP. But my cries - no matter how well-received for their reasonableness and innocence - are almost always ignored as woman after woman chases me to the edge of the bed with her continual "touchy-touchy" bullshit. It goes without saying that every time I insist upon my own Bedspace, my requirements are met vocally and physically but are utterly rejected as hateful psychologically. With every utterance of "Move over, baby...I just need to sleep..." the woman gives me one more demerit on her list of Things to Bring Up Later. Although my first sexual experience was a hurried hit-and-run, every subsequent one has been a battle of wills over the cuddling issue. Rather than waste bandwidth describing every cuddling controversy with the 20-odd women I've slept with in my life, let me give evidence by the most substantive cases, including one that hurts my theory. Ready? Eileen 1984. Had to cuddle. But she had fantastic breasts, an animalistic sexual drive and was a pleasure to fondle. But since I was poverty-stricken and living in a guest house, my furnished twin-size bed had no elbow room. Every night was spent as one fleshy mound comprised of two naked people. Every adjustment meant another break from blissful sleep. I would go out into the cold world the next morning and start climbing poles at 8am, wondering if this day of dry-eyed insomniatic stupor would be my last. Just one mis-placed step and WHUMP - I'm road kill. Fortunately, I got her pregnant. After her abortion, she dumped me like wet sack of pus. Phew! Sonia 1987 Tall, thin gypsy woman with a beautiful mouth and sparkling green eyes. Could wrap her legs around me TWICE. We often slept on her breezy livingroom floor to stay cool, but she STILL had to spend every sleeping second touching me. I'd roll off the mattress to get some sleep, then shiver from the aforementioned breeziness. Upon returning to bed with her, the cuddly-touchy stuff would almost immediately resume. I cannot count the Sunday mornings spent in an unblinking haze as she chirped around the kitchen and made me breakfast. Yes, deep down inside I appreciated the joy of having a six-foot-tall naked hottie making me toast and coffee. But that joy was stifled under a steel carapace of sleepless catatonia. We went on and off until she met a champion bicyclist and I met KC. KC 1988 An incredible blonde pixie whose nerdy love of the SCA was easily eclipsed by her voracious and alarming sexual habits. I moved into her apartment just weeks after meeting her; her shaven muff was so delectable that I could think of little else during the day. On many occasions I assaulted her as she entered the door, stripped off her clothes and just sucked on that beautiful pussy till her thighs got pruny. (Um...hold on a sec...wank wank wank). KC was a good one. She had a California King waterbed with a mirrored ceiling. There was room enough for us to sleep apart, but in this instance *I*was the problem. As soon as the alarm went off I'd duck under the covers and put my mouth right back on that cooze. I couldn't stop! But yea, I was not exploring my feminine cuddly side. I was diving into the finest, smoothest quim I'd ever had (still #1, in fact) with the abandon of a leering pervert, not the angelic touch of a love-struck cuddler. KC was a good one. But she was a slob, her cats vomited and shat everywhere, she couldn't cook to save her life and was too involved in the SCA for my tastes. I moved out. Shelley 1992 Blond tomboy street girl. Vulgar, assertive and handy with a gin bottle. Everybody loved or hated Shelley. I was different. I liked her. One night, she was too drunk to get home from my neighbor's house. I invited her to my bed. We engaged in sloppy, drunken coitus, then we fell asleep. I slept soundly and no probing fingers ever reached onto my belly. The perfect date, IMHO. I'm sorry it was just a one-night stand. She moved to Texas. I miss her. Colleen 1994 Oh, man. By far the most beautiful woman I've ever shtupped. To this day, I can say that I loved her more than any woman I've known. No need to describe her. Just do a search for Isabelle Adjani +gallery. Add dirty blonde hair and viola - you have Colleen. The likeness was so striking that nearly every film fan who came over for dinner just stared at her then exclaimed "Anybody ever tell you that you look EXACTLY like Isabelle Adjani?" Um, yes. They have. Next! Colleen was a cuddler extraordinaire. Not only that, but her sexual thirst was hard to slake. If I didn't produce a rock-solid 3-4 loads to give her the necessary 15-20 orgasms, she would tear at me all night long like a cat in heat. We're talking a solid 3-4 hours of sex, every night, just to get her to purr and move over a little bit. I was good, but not that good. Many mornings I went to work with a different shoe on each foot. For several months this went on, then we moved in together for a year or so. About 10 months into it, I could no longer stand the sleeplessness. We had talk after talk about how I just need sleep, how night-long cuddling affects it and how it doesn't mean I don't love her but that I just want some GODDAMN SLEEP. A few months later she was gone. Another love lost to cuddling... Karen 1997 A hippie songwriter. Long blond hair, a big smile and an affinity for funky hats. Kind of like a cross between Carly Simon and Janis Joplin. My first hairy-pitted GF. I was glad she was blond; it made it the pits bearable. What I couldn't bear was the goddamn cuddling. Yeah, baby, I love you, too. Now roll your ass back over to YOUR side of the bed so your Teddy Bear can get some GODDAMN SLEEP, Ok? By now, I was convinced that all women have the cuddling gene. Some can suppress it, but they all have it. It's amazing how predictable the behavior can be. You explain to them that you don't mean to slight them or hurt their feelings but that lengthy post-coital cuddling severely affects my sleep patterns and they universally nod their heads in understanding. For several nights they'll suppress their touchy desires. But like a spring that retains its metallurgic memory, they slowly revert back to the 5:20am touchy stuff. For several years I forsook womanhood and reveled in night-long sleep and frequent masturbation. It seemed to be the answer. I'd have a hit-or-miss sexual dalliance now and again, but no GF's. Just SR's and preferably in an alley somewhere. Then... The Queen This all came a head last night. I went to bed with The Queen in her Castle. We had vigorous sex, then went to sleep. About two months ago, we had the sleep/cuddle discussion. For a few weeks I got some measure of room in the bed and useful sleep. But a few weeks ago, the touchy-cuddly started creeping back in. Last night, it was undoable. Between the cuddling, the touching and her damn cats, I was up till past 2am. At exactly 4:15 I found myself edged over the bed, my knees hanging in free space as I scooted inexorably further from a probing hand. That was it. I lay there, eyes wide open, for fifteen minutes or so as she scooted closer and closer to me, coaxing me further and further off the bed. I finally just rolled off and went to the bathroom. Upon my return, I informed her that I was getting dressed and going home to get some GODDAMN SLEEP. "No, don't go!" was the cry I heard, one repeated in my ears often over the last 20 years. I went home and slept in. Tonite I went by to pick up some of my stuff and chat with her. She apologized for pushing me out of the bed with the cuddly crap, and I accepted her apology. I then inferred that she was not solely to blame as her entire gender has an innate tendency to cuddle men into sleepless psychosis. This did not play well with her. She was hurt, so I steered the subject back to the pragmatic discussion of a few months ago. In a classic case of womanly denial, she nodded her head in agreement that my desire to sleep unmolested was a reasonable one - but her lips quivered and her eyes betrayed welling tears. Fact is, chix HAVE to cuddle. It's just required. If they don't get their cuddling, they assume you don't love them no man loves them nobody loves them ain't I good enough I deserve love too boo hoo hoo. Of course I love you, baby. And I'd love you even more if you would STOP TOUCHING ME, MOVE THE FUCK OVER AND LET ME GET SOME SLEEP. Capice? ObAnswerToTheProblem: A 1hp AC motor geared down to drive a rack-and-pinion that slowly scuttles two double-size beds apart or together. After enjoying a night of bissful intimacy, the thinking man can just hit the button and roll a good four feet away. Kind of like a fire break in the forest: the gap must be wide enough to preclude even the longest reach. Problem solved, relationship maintained. - TR - drawing up the plans. Article: 22628 of alt.peeves From: Le Grande Raoul Newsgroups: alt.peeves Subject: Re: Back Off, Bitch! Date: Tue, 15 Jul 2003 08:30:36 -0700 Organization: Posted via Supernews, http://www.supernews.com Message-ID: <150720030830368155%raoul@olympus.net> References: <3f16a33b.39754453@netnews.comcast.net> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-transfer-encoding: 8bit User-Agent: Thoth/1.5.10 (Carbon/OS X) X-Complaints-To: abuse@supernews.com Lines: 16 Path: news.meer.net!sea-read.news.verio.net!dfw-artgen!iad-peer.news.verio.net!news.verio.net!news.maxwell.syr.edu!sn-xit-03!sn-xit-01!sn-post-01!supernews.com!corp.supernews.com!raoul Xref: archive.mv.meer.net alt.peeves:22628 > > ObAnswerToTheProblem: A 1hp AC motor geared down to drive a > rack-and-pinion that slowly scuttles two double-size beds apart or > together. After enjoying a night of bissful intimacy, the thinking man > can just hit the button and roll a good four feet away. Kind of like a > fire break in the forest: the gap must be wide enough to preclude even > the longest reach. Problem solved, relationship maintained. Nah. Too much effort and too much work. Won't happen. The solution: escorts. Yeah, hookers but not the streetwalker variety. "I don't need to pay for it", you say? Well, you're not paying them for sex, you are paying them to go away. raoul