Women Know That When It’s Over, It’s Over

That’s about right.

Look, I don’t envy women. Guys are fucking idiots and congress wants to get all up in your business and you can’t walk past my place without me hanging out the window and screaming, “WOOOOOOOOOOOO LET’S SEE SOME ASS!” as I wolf down my last beer.

But I am extremely jealous of your on-off switch.

You know what I’m talking about. That switch you’ve got that lets you instantly change your perspective of any guy from “someone who I would have sex with” to “someone who will never, ever, ever lay hand, tongue or eye on my happy place.”

Guys are pretty simple. But when it comes to banging, we are incredibly irrational. If it’s offered to us, we’re mostly gonna take it (unless the offerer is, say, our great aunt Libby… although after a few drinks, who knows.) A woman can hump us and dump us and if she happens to re-enter our lives somewhere down the road, chances are we’ll at least consider taking her up on any requests that involve her ass and our face.

Women, not so much. At least in my experience. Once it’s over, it’s over. You can try to sweet talk your way in or get out the checkbook (my “go to” move). But once the switch has been flipped, nothing you can do will lower the drawbridge.

I bring this up because, again, I found myself on the road recently and meeting up with an old flame of mine for food and drinks. Back in the day, we’d do things to each other that would have qualified us for the Russian Elite Gymnast Forces. Hot, sweaty, dynamite fucking that leaves you breathless and in need of a quick Vitamin D transfusion. After dinner, I would have gladly welcomed her back to my room for some high-speed pole vaulting. And in fact, I did. But, even in her current unattached state, she wouldn’t have it.

“Oh, we can’t go back there,” she smiled. And that was that.

My question then — and now — is why not? Hell, I even shaved AND flossed, to boost my prettiness to late-’90s levels.

This is not to be confused with the age-old argument that a man and a woman cannot be friends without the guy wanting to bang her six ways to Thursday. This is the argument that women are much, much, much better at shutting down that part of their brains that at one time found a lover sexually appealing.

If you have an explanation you could share, or evidence to the contrary, please feel free to leave it in our comments section or hit me here. Otherwise, I will simply applaud you ladies for your magical, almost mystical abilities. And remain one jealous motherfucker.

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