Tits and Ask: Girls Gone Wildin’

DEAR KEN & ARIEL: In this day and age, it seems that women are far too interested in playing the field and not committing to a long term relationship. I can understand their wanting to have fun, but in my case my last two girlfriends have come crawling back to me after “having their fun”, and I feel like I’m selling myself short by letting them back. So with the last one, I gave her a dose of her own medicine and stated that I wanted to have my fun. She’s all pissed off, and actually I feel guilty. What is your opinion?

KEN SAYS: There’s an upside and a downside to women wanting to “play the field.” The upside is when you’re wobbling though last call at the local pub and some BU chick is crying in her beer about how her long-distance boyfriend who’s taking a semester in Peru just doesn’t seem to care anymore. That’s when you – fueled by one dollar drafts – slide in to the rescue, giving her a ear to bend, a shoulder to weep upon, and a johnson to keep her occupied until Peru guy sails back. The downside, of course, is being Peru guy, staring wistfully into the South American skies while your girl’s servicing half the lacrosse team back home.

But let’s be honest; as a guy, I can vouch that our willingness to let a girl back into our hearts is directly proportionate to how hot and/or amazing in bed she is. Otherwise, why would you want to maintain a relationship with someone who basically shows up back on your doorstep saying, “Okay, I’m done having sex with other guys. Let’s party.”

ARIEL SAYS: Thanks to the equality of the sexes, y’all get to experience what we’ve putting up with for thousands of years. So yeah, I admit it–I’m pretty psyched. But let me get off my high horse and tell you what happens when I let the no-good bum back into my heart and into my 750-count sheets.

Ring Ring! (That’s my phone.)

“Um, Hello?”

“Hey Ariel, we’ll be at Shooters at 10, what time are you coming by?”

“Oh geez, Paula, I’m not going to be able to go out tonight.”

“What?!? Why not?!?”

“Uh…I don’t feel good?”

“Yeah, right. Since when have you turned down $1 drafts? Wait a minute…Is that fuckface Derek back?”

“No, no! Well…OK, maybe? But you know what Paula, he’s changed, he said he totally missed me and—“

“Bitch, cut the shit. You know that ain’t true.”

“But Paula—“

“Don’t you start that bullshit with me. Remember the time he got a blow job from that bitch Charlene in the back seat of YOUR car?”

“Yeah…”

“And remember the time he stole your checkbook and tried to cash checks at Building 19?”

“Yeeah…”

“And remember—“

“OK, OK! I get it. I’ll see you at 10.”

So, my advice would be that the next time your no-good hussy comes crawling back after “having her fun,” think of my friend Paula, whose wise words I believe transcend both gender and circumstance: “Bitch, cut the shit.” Don’t settle for less and kick her to the curb.

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