Men don’t understand you either

i really don’t understand men… why would you think that a girl would be ready or willing to jump into a new something with you when she’s going thru heart break??? do you really think it’s a good time or that she wants to hear nice things.. i dunno maybe it’s just me and i should be flattered but it’s not what i want to hear.. i don’t want to hear i deserve better or that there is someone out there that will treat me better blah blah blah.. please just tell me like it is.. it sucks big time ( this is NOT directed to every guy thats talked to me since monday just a few)

Here we go again with the broads not able to make up their damn minds. So obviously this one is suffering through heartbreak. As is typical for the female variety, I’m sure she has been complaining about all the reasons why she she deserves to be loved and she can’t believe he did this or that and she’s basically just a mess over the whole thing. Everyone gets that way… everyone except the calm, cool, and collected Dr. Viggy, of course.

So here comes the nice guy. They guy she wants. The guy that her ex is, most certainly, not. He gives her a shoulder to cry on. He gives her a compliment. He tries to allay her fears that she’s nto going to be alone forever. He tries to boost her confidence and self-esteem. He does all the things a woman makes us believe she wants, right?

NOOOOOO…. this guy is destined for trouble in one way or another. There’s the nearly unavoidable trip to the friend zone. See the article titled “On being a nice guy” for more on that one. Then there’s the possibility that he will simply just get smacked for trying to get in her pants (even if his intentions truly are honorable). In this case, however, neither of the above happened. He’s just a jerk for not letting her be heartbroken. She’s hell bent on being miserable and she’ll be damned if she’s going to let anyone cheer her up – especially a… a… a MAN! Not after what she’s been through.

Now, let’s imagine for a moment he didn’t do any of this stuff. It would only further her cause that men suck and she doesn’t deserve better. She’d wonder where all the good guys are. When is it her turn? We have all heard the crappy cliche about always being a bridesmaid, but never a bride. Maybe the ones saying what they are saying actually ARE the good ones. When she asks for people to “please just tell me like it is” has she considered that what’s being is IS how it is? Of course not. She’s an emotional wreck, suffering from irrational energies.

The final nail in the estrogen coffin is what she put in parentheses. She said, “this is NOT directed to every guy thats talked to me since monday just a few.” What in the world makes you think that anyone else will want to talk to you after that line? You eviscerate the nice guys on the world’s largest social network and think for even a minute that someone else will step to the plate? Don’t think so.

All is not lost. Dr. Viggy has a solution for you. Take all those feelings (and your drawers) and put them aside. Let the doc fill you with good thoughts (and other things) until you’re back on your feet. I’m not being filthy. This is medical. Sex releases endorphins. You’ll feel better getting some action (chemically). You’ll get some self-esteem and confidence back by seeing you’re capable of pleasing a guy. All will be well. I’ll even let you use your tears of self pity as lubrication.

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Those are definitely NOT real!

There has been a bit of a break with the holidays and general yuletide mayhem. Back at it.

DEAR ABBY: My boyfriend of two years, “Marc,” has been talking a lot about marriage lately. I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him. There is, however, one fly in the ointment: I was born a biological male.

I have never felt like a man, Abby. I have lived as a woman since high school, and when I was 25, underwent surgery to change my sex. I have never regretted my decision and, up until now, my family has always been supportive.

As I have always been a woman in every way that matters, I have never seen any reason to tell any man I’ve dated that I was born with male genitalia. My brother recently asked me if I had told Marc about my surgery and was shocked to learn that I had not.

He implored me to tell Marc, but I feel that my past is completely irrelevant to our relationship today. My brother thinks that I am obligated to confess to Marc, and he has threatened to tell him if I don’t.

Marc loves me very much and would support me no matter what, but I have left my past behind me, and I feel no reason to needlessly disturb our relationship. How do I convince my brother to let this go? — AT A LOSS IN NEW YORK

DEAR AT A LOSS:Although you may not think that the fact that you are a transsexual is relevant, it is presumptuous to think that you can speak for Marc. He needs to know the whole truth, and to keep it from him could constitute fraud. You did not mention whether he is planning on having children with you, and, loving him as you do, you need to be fair to him.

A marriage that is based on a lie is no marriage at all. It would always hang over you, and surely there are many others besides your brother who know about your sex change. My advice is to tell Marc everything before someone else does. Your future with him could depend upon his hearing the news from you — and nobody else but you.

Ok folks… now that I’ve regained my composure I can respond. That was some of the funniest shit I’ve read in a long, long time.

The only thing that you are at a loss for is a fuckin’ grip on reality. Abby is pretty much on target again which is something I’m beginning to grow used to, oddly enough. However, she left out some things. I know she’s not so quick to judge others and that’s something she needs to work on. Anyway, you should really think about this closely. Marc is in love with a woman. You do not qualify as such. Just because you grew tits doesn’t mean they’re natural – you still purchased the hormones (that’s IF you didn’t just get implants). Having tits and an inside out pecker doesn’t make you a woman. And you said it yourself – you’ve always FELT like a woman in all ways that matter. I think being born with a ding dong really matters. I hate to break it to you but, no matter how you slice it, you’re not a woman. So you better tell Marc. I would be out of arm’s length when I say it, if I were you. I also recommend being out of range of any high powered firearms.

Another good point that Abby brought up was about the kids. Were you just planning on faking impotence or what? You’re conniving enough to have this planned out and I think that if you’ve made it this long with this guy then chances are that you know he doesn’t want children in the first place.

So you think that the past doesn’t matter. Let’s have a pretend situation for a moment; sort of how you pretend that you’re not some sick degenerate. Let’s say that right before he proposes, Marc tells you that he’s actually been married twice before but he’s brutally killed both of his wives – over a small white lie. Does that past matter now? I think so, considering you just folded the hammer inside and started lieing about it. Some people have a real problem with gay sex – they’re known as heterosexuals.

Somebody is going to tell Marc sooner or later so you might as well do it now. This way you stand a chance that he’ll simply break up with you and walk away whereas, if you tell him after you’re married, he may just kill you in your sleep. Honestly, even if he’s twisted enough to be ok with marrying a He-She, why on Earth would he be ok with someone who’s lied for so long about something so severe?

So here’s what you should do: Tell Marc that you’re a lunatic and can’t marry him or be with him anymore. Do NOT tell him why though. I know that if I were him and I found out that I had been plowing an inside out pecker for X amount of years; I’d be QUITE upset. Better safe than sorry. So break up with him and leave him forever – then go kill yourself. I know this is harsh even for me, but your actions are SO far beyond acceptable. You must definitely have taken hormones because I can quite fully see that you have a fair emount of irrational energy running through you. You’ve also ruined another trend – this is the first time that a Dr.Viggy article addressed to a woman hasn’t ended with an overt suggestion that you take all your clothes off and ring my doorbell. On the contrary, keep them ALL on and stay far, far away from me.

UGH! I need a shower now.

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A Sexual Girl or Asexual Girl?

DEAR ABBY: I am confused about my sexual orientation. I am an 18-year-old girl. Although I encounter a lot of attractive guys at work, I don’t find myself attracted to any of them. I do think that they are handsome, but I never, ever get that “butterflies in the stomach” feeling that my friends describe to me. At the same time, I am pretty sure I am not a lesbian. Is there something wrong with me? Could I be asexual? Is there any way this can be diagnosed? — CONFUSED IN NEVADA

DEAR CONFUSED: I hate to see you diagnose and label yourself. It is possible that you have simply not met the right person yet. Real life is not the way it’s presented in movies and music videos, where the hero and heroine are struck by lightning and carried away at first encounter. Give it one more year, and if you still feel there is something missing, discuss it with your doctor. Sexuality is a matter of degree, and no two people are exactly alike.

There is no way to describe yourself other than confused; that’s for sure. If you said you were 12 years old, you’d have instantly been forgiven and most likely ignored because, at that age, you don’t need to be sure. However, at 18 year of age you should have had that “butterflies in the stomach” feeling at least once. If not, how about that “moist between the legs” feeling?

Thinking men are handsome is not enough. Being secure in my masculinity and comfortable with my heterosexuality, I can look at a guy and reasonably say, “That’s a handsome guy.” It doesn’t mean I want to fuck him, by any means. It’s simply observing the people around you and having what some people call – situational awareness. At the same time, I’m sure you can see a woman and determine if she is pretty or attractive or if it looks like her face was on fire and someone put it out with a chainsaw. So, finding people to be good looking has no bearing on the subject, it just proves you have the use of your eyes.

I do applaud your efforts of recognition of a problem and the fact that you sought help. Your choice of sources (Abby) leaves a little something to be desired but you tried and that’s commendable. I’d hate for you to become asexual or lesbian and deprive men of the opportunity to make you sing. At least be bi-sexual. If you can’t pick one that particularly suits you, just do both. I’d recommend both at the same time – for the sake of comparison, of course. Since there are always factors that cannot be replicated – mood, sleep, lighting, booze, etc – you cannot have a man and a woman on separate occasions and expect a scientific result. So a threesome is the only way to include both variables (a man and a woman) with the single constant (you) and obtain a real result. I’ll consult my schedule and phone book and get the entire thing in motion. We haven’t a moment to lose.

Abby, once again, makes me almost sorry that my role in this life is to give advice. She gives a bad name to all of us that are out to provide troubled persons with sound, real solutions to the lousy hands that life deals at times. If it was not painfully obvious why you should ignore my moral minded competitor, I’ll explain. She tells you to give it another year and yet she says that sexuality is a matter of degree and no two people are alike. How could she expect to give you an exact timeframe such as “another year” if no two people are alike? If her advice was correct then there would be no single point at which you should worry thus negating her one year statement. Basically, we find, yet again and at your expense, that she has no credibility and should be taken with a grain of salt.

Apparently she also took your lack of lust to mean a lack of ability to separate fact from fiction. We all know that life isn’t like the movies. That’s why there are movies in the first place. They take us to a realm we can’t get to ordinarily – at least not without very powerful drugs and a good deal of cash. Anyway, if life and the movies were the same then we’d have won the war against terror and evil by now and probably with the help of some caped crusader or a wizard with a magic ring. At the very least, Bruce Willis would have mowed down a good portion of the bad guys. So, you want to know why this is important, right? It’s important because since you know people don’t fall in love instantly and finding “the one” is trial and error then you have to admit that you’re lack of trials is… well… a little fucked up at your age.

I know that everyone is wondering why I’ve yet to place any of the blame on you so far. I was just getting to that. I think maybe you are just a little bit too picky. I think you’re also probably not very good looking. See, girls who are attractive from a young age, generally, have experiences early on. When the testosterone gates are opened in males, long before 18, these good looking girls get plenty of attention and surely capitalize on it. In the meantime, while the dogs are all looking to bury their bone in the same hottie, the less attractive females are left begging to be table scraps. Some understand that will always be the case and, in turn, learn to give really good head. Others barricade themselves behind a marching band and tub of Chunky Monkey (aptly named, as it were).

So get out there and meet people. Have some flings, have some dates and even have some relationships that are destined to fail. It won’t find Mr. Right for you but it will give you a frame of reference so at least you know what the hell it is that you want in a man in the first place which will in turn allow you to have those butterflies when the right one does show up. Maybe he has and your lack of perspective wouldn’t let you see it was him.

If that doesn’t work, then get in shape (I suggest running to Philadelphia and back), look into cosmetic surgery and settle for the first guy that will have you.

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Truth or Profit?

Doc: I have a good friend who owns a prosperous business. I’ll call him “Oscar.” Oscar has no clue that one of his employees, “Shirley,” is stealing big chunks of money from him.

I feel bad for the friend who is being taken, and also for the person doing the stealing. I know them both well, and if I were to tell him, Oscar would lose both a friend and an employee. Shirley has worked for him for more than a dozen years. Her son and her brother now work for him, too. If I blow the whistle, Shirley could lose her home and other investments.

This could get very ugly, and I don’t want to be in the middle. Please tell me what to do.

Too late and tough shit, you are already in the middle. You know the situation and you know both of them. You may not be caught in the middle totally just yet because you can walk away and say nothing but that doesn’t help anyone.

“Oscar” may be getting taken advantage of but anyone who can get ripped off in “big chunks” and not catch on leaves a little to be desired when it comes to business abilities. Regardless of his street smarts and savvy when it comes to dealing with people, Shirley doesn’t deserve a dime of that money. I, frankly, don’t give a shit that she may lose her house and other investments. She’s enough of a scumbag to have gotten those in less than honest ways. Oscar will not lose a friend because a friend wouldn’t rip you off like that. If she’s worked for him for more than a dozen years and has gotten jobs there for other family members then she owes Oscar the common fucking courtesy to not take his money. Capitalizing on a boss’ inability to keep good books is like molesting a retard with no legs. They can’t fight back and you just don’t get the same satisfaction as you would if you manipulated a fully capable person.

Check your emotions at the door and don’t think about who you feel bad for. Oscar needs to pay better attention to his finances and Shirley needs to not be a money grubbing whore, but that’s all wishful thinking. I need to get blown morning, noon and night but we have to make do with the hand we’re dealt, right?

Here’s what I’d do if I were you… Go to Shirley and call her out. Tell her you know what she’s been up to and tell her that at that moment she is to give you all the details, including amounts. From there make a decision; can you take a big enough of cut of Shirley’s skimming to keep your trap shut? If not, to go Oscar and maybe he’ll hook you up with a few bucks in the short term for saving him tons in the long run. If you’re smart, you’ll squeeze Shirley then go back to Oscar anyway.

Luck is simply recognizing opportunity.

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Sitting in Siberia

DEAR ABBY: My husband and I were invited to a dinner party at which the hostess seated my husband at the main table next to her. She seated me at a far table in the corner, with my back to the dinner guests.

Fortunately, I made easy conversation and had a nice time, but I don’t feel like accepting any of her invitations in the future. My husband scarcely noticed and wonders why I might not care to be invited again. May I know your thoughts on how to handle this? — DIANA IN SAN FRANCISCO

DEAR DIANA: When a couple is invited to a dinner party, and the husband is seated next to the hostess, it is customary for his wife to be seated next to the host of the party. By seating you in “Siberia,” the hostess demonstrated not only a breach of etiquette, but also how little she cared about your feelings. Explain that to your husband, and perhaps he’ll get the message.

Angelic Abby missed the boat on this one entirely. Only as someone too pure of heart to have been laid inside of a decade would fail to notice – the hostess is getting filled out like an application by your dear ol’hubby. The writing is on the headboard.

You both get invited and he gets seated at the main table right next to the hostess. Not only did you get overlooked on the chair you were assigned to but you didn’t even get to sit at the same table. You were only invited to keep away suspicions. And when you showed up you were placed far enough out of the way to be a nuisance.

Make no mistake, your husband noticed. He simply pretended like it didn’t happen because discussing it might cause the tone of his voice or reaction to give it all away. He doesn’t truly wonder why you don’t want to go back. He knows damned well why you don’t want to go back. You are an attention monger and you didn’t get it that night and now you’re throwing a tantrum over the whole thing and if you go back, the cycle repeats. His”wondering” is another part of the clever ruse to downplay that there is anything going on.

Maybe if you stopped whining long enough to Abby about why you had to sit so far away, you’d have time to please your husband and prevent him from seeking the attention of another woman. Or maybe you’re just a big enough pain in the ass that he requested you sit far away just get a break.

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10 Things You Don’t Know About Women

Early this Saturday morning I was catching up on some much needed reading. Since most of you are too damned lazy to write in, I find material in a variety of places. As you’ve seen, Dear Abby generally provides a great source of mentally deficient submitters. Bashing Abby’s 1950s model for relationship handling and her Jerry Springer reject writers even gets old though.

In an effort to bring my articles to a level only vaguely approaching vulgarity and keep my blood pressure down; this time I will refrain from dredging the shallow end of the gene pool.

This time around I will list (and report on) several “facts” stated to us by a quite attractive, and not-so-off-the-mark columnist for Esquire Magazine, Annabeth Gish. And so it goes…

1. If you tell us that playing Halo 2 improves the dexterity of your fingers, you’d better be able to prove it.
One can only imagine that she is referencing your ability to spend as much time gently fondling her one magic button as you do mashing the several on the XBOX controller. Personally, if I had to choose one or the other in my lap, rest assured it is the former far more than the latter. However, I find it hard to believe that that one who spends enough time playing video games to able to say that it improves dexterity has a woman looking for said proof. In other words, a daily routine of shooting aliens, monsters and intergalactic soldiers means you’re single. Exercise time is over; put down the controller and meet a real human being – and should you get her into be, never call “it” a plasma pulse cannon.

2. We think Porsches are as overrated and superficial as men who drive SUVs but don’t know how to shift them into four-wheel drive.
Another way of stating the old adage that big cars compensate for little peckers but compensating or not, men, you are not replaceable. If she could shift into four-wheel drive, she wouldn’t need you. I think she means that it’s still your job to shift for her and climb that hill and reach her “peak.” However, the old Reliant K is not gonna make the trip so find the balance between being pretentious and simply driving a piece of shit.

3. Watching football for three hours on a Sunday is sufficiently masculine. Watching football for nine hours is obsessive and weird.
Take those three hours to prove you’re a Red-blooded American male that’s heterosexual (she said football, not futbol) and you just might score a touchdown of your own. Surpass that timeframe and she’ll bored waiting around for the guy that’s more obsessed with other men in skin tight outfits than he is with her. Then she’ll date a soccer player.

4. When you are dancing with a woman, know how to lead. When you are intimate, know how to touch.
Both of these mean you are in control. One comes with a little more force than the other. If you don’t know which is which, then I’m sorry to say that you’ll find out the hard way. The dance requires you to take charge and she’ll follow you while dazzling spectators – think Fred and Ginger. Being intimate and knowing how to touch means that while you are still in charge, you have to follow her lead in the way of knowing what it is that she wants and what works for her and believe me, she’ll give you signs – be sure you know how to read them.

5. Chivalry does not emasculate you or make you our bitch.
Bottom line… you get to keep your pecker and wallet, most times, if you open the car door for her. Very simple concept here that requires no further explaining. Although, I will say that if you are chivalrous, it’ll help her want to borrow your pecker later that evening. Think about it.

6. Drink milk from a glass and beer from a bottle. (For better beer-drinking tips, observe carefully the sexy two-finger hold used by Jeff Bridges in Against All Odds.)
Milk from the bottle is just gross so that’s off limits. Put it in a glass. It’ll give you that innocence back from your Oreo-dunking days which women find adorable. Beer from a bottle (with proper holding technique as she mentioned) shows you’re not too dainty and light in the loafers if you know what I mean. Be a man, not a slob and know how to distinguish between the two.

7. Some of us would very much prefer the little black box from Chrome Hearts rather than the usual blue one from Tiffany’s. Translation: Don’t underestimate our edge!
This one may be trap. Sounds to me like an attempt to prove that they can think outside the Tiffany’s box by being edgy and non-conformist while really seeing if you’ll take the bait and go cheap. Either that, or she wants you to think about things on your own and try something new and tailored to her instead of adding to an ever growing collection of the same shit. Be wary here. It could go either way.

8. Grooming you is our biological proclivity. Squeezing, plucking, clipping, trimming – all these activities are ways of showing we love you. Embrace the love.
Embrace the fact that she thinks you’re one hair away from a sasquatch and when she said “Baby, I love you the way you are;” she meant forgot to add, “Once you are the way I’ll love you.” You are NOT a science experiment or a home makeover kit. You are who you are and if she liked it enough to date you in the first place, then she should have liked it enough to not change you now. However, for you Annabeth – I’m yours for the molding! Don’t any of you talk to me about hypocrisy – I already know.

9. If, while driving, you check yourself out in the rearview mirror more than you look at us, we’ll never get in another car with you.
Don’t look at yourself in the rearview mirror, you handsome devil. Adjust it so you can look down her blouse!

10. Laughter and listening: These are the two bridges between your planet and ours. Do both with us often and we’ll love you like crazy.
I’m sorry… were you saying something?

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Get it on!

DEAR ABBY: Please tell me what to do. I was at a birthday luncheon with six other women, and a discussion about female newscasters came up. One of the guests was raving about how wonderful a certain news anchor was, and said, “She has eight children!” Feeling naughty, I said, “That just means she likes gettin’ it on!” I realize my comment may have been off-color, but we’ve known each other 20 years, and I was just mouthing off.

The woman who had brought up the newscaster immediately took great offense and replied, “My mother had eight children!” The lady whose 81st birthday we were celebrating then said, “Your mother must have liked to do it, too.” The offended lady told us angrily that she didn’t appreciate our remarks.

I was very embarrassed and apologized repeatedly, both for myself and the honoree — who, I can assure you, meant no harm either. Then I had my lunch packed up, paid my share of the bill, and left.

I told my husband what happened, and he assured me that I had done nothing wrong. The offended woman brought her mother into the discussion, and the lady whose birthday it was made the comment about her mother. I feel ashamed and angry at the same time. The woman ignored my apology and ruined the birthday party.

Can’t a group of senior ladies who have been friends more than 20 years share a little spice? Or am I out of step? — STILL UPSET IN MIDLOTHIAN, VA.

DEAR STILL UPSET: There is an old saying, “Never discuss sex, politics or religion” at parties — and you unwittingly touched on one (possibly two) of the subjects. Do I think you committed social suicide? No, I think the woman overreacted. Write her a short note apologizing again, and then drop it. Whether she accepts it or not is up to her.

You’re damn right she overreacted. Let’s call a spade a spade here. The woman had eight kids; she liked to get it on. And had it not been for her penchant for making fucky fucky, then the offended lunatic wouldn’t be there to be offended in the first place.

It’s not like she was called a whore or anything. At last check there was one Virgin Mother (dependant on the faith of an individual) and said virgin who was said to be touched by the hand of God, only managed that trick once, let alone eight times.

Now let’s pretend for a moment that what you said was actually offensive. Being the morally sound individual who always take the high road that this woman likes to appear to be, she could and probably should have just said… nothing. Instead she decided to rant and rave at a party. There is a key ingredient. IT WAS A PARTY! Here is where I disagree with Abby (you know it was bound to happen). If you can’t discuss sex at a party then where can you discuss it? Don’t discuss politics or religion at parties simply because they’re a buzzkill, but sex is the perfect thing to discuss at a party. Anyone who’s over the age of 12 and has played spin the bottle knows that parties bring out the sexual nature of well… everyone.

So where does that leave you? In the right if I have anything to say about it. So what you said was truthful and it was in a light hearted atmosphere but the most important part is the tenure of your friendship. After twenty years she should know full well that you’re not out to be hurtful or offensive and should be just a bit of wit amongst friends, including the 81 year old honoree.

The bottom line is that she shouldn’t be upset, nor should you. She should, however, be regretful of ruining the mood at the party. Both you and the birthday girl are owed an apology and the other one needs to get her panties untwisted and realize that people like sex.

I know I do anyway!

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Pillow Talk

And I’m not talking about all that filthy stuff you animals say to each other in the heat of passion. Get your minds out of the gutter… I never thought I’d hear myself say that. Anyway…

Dr.Viggy is a bachelor, believe it or not. Some of you are shocked because you understand that I’m just a slick sonuvabitch with a lot to offer a lady (plus a hammer the size of your forearm). Others are shocked in a more sarcast sense because, to you, i’m JUST a sonuvabitch. We all know the titles that have been given to me and the names I’ve been called and I dare not repeat any of them. But, I digress.

So, as I was saying, I’m single like a dollar bill. That being said, take a look at my bed. You will notice something definitively “bachelor-like.” I have no more pillows on my bed than any one person should need. I have TWO pillow on my bed. I may sleep with one or both or maybe just save one for those times my bed is graced with the presence of a member of the fairer sex.

Now here’s where I break the mold just a bit. Because I purchased a bed set (sheets, comforter, etc) it came with something called pillow shams (talk to the nearest female to understand that term). And these shams are just that… a sham. It’s bullshit. These pillows serve no purpose as you’re not to sleep on them, they’re decorative. The only saving grace is that they came with the set and dont, for one moment, think that I went out purposely to find them. I went into “Bed, Bath, and Beyond” thinking I would find people who like sex in multiple places and boy was I surprised.

Being a man at my age, it’s safe to say that most people I know are married or in the process of becoming so. And as I talk to them I hear the same thing over and over (from the men, at least). They always talk about how the women bring in an inordinate amount of pillows. And every night before bed, they take them off and neatly place and stack them somewhere in the room; and every morning they make the bed and carefully rearrange them in perfect placement.

I don’t know about you but if I’m not sleeping or fucking, I don’t spend much time in the bedroom. So, here’s my question: Who on God’s green Earth are those pillows for and what purpose do they serve? They are decorative! I understand decorating the living room and even throw pillows on the couch. I suppose, if and when the time comes that I get married, that I’ll spend a good number of nights on the couch and I think I’d appreciate having extra pillows there. But on the bed in a room that nobody goes in? And pillows that can’t even be used?

The whole thing seems entirely nonsensical to me. So if anyone can give me a legitimate reason for these thing beyond “They’re there for decoration.” I’d be happy to hear it. I think it’s merely a warning sign to the men or any women, other than the one that lives there, that the guy is taken and forsaked all others. Kind of like the way animals mark their territory with urine. From now on, when I see a bed that was recently inhabited by only a male and now has more pillows than there are stars in the sky, I will know that the bed has been “pissed on” and will therefore refer to them simply as “piss pillows.”

Conversely, guys, if you find your way to a woman’s bed and the sheets are even the least bit disheveled and there are no piss pillows, that means that a man sleeps there as well and he’s a strong motherfucker to get away with not putting them back in place and you should, therefore, get the hell out of there quickly.

In the meantime, I’m going to take a nap on my bed with TWO pillow.

~Doc V

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Lying Slut Whores and the men that love them (part 3)

Don’t think for a minute that after writing parts 1 & 2 I’ve expelled some of my energy and this will be calmer in the least. This is the one you’ve been waiting for…

Thankfully, this story has no bearing on the life of Dr.Viggy whatsoever, but rather a friend of mine who has no creative outlet for romantic strife nor a way to pay back the lying slut whore(s) in his life so I’ve taken it upon myself to eviscerate her in fiction for him. Plus I felt it my duty to take on such a task since we share not only the same first name but the same date of birth as well.

Backstory: This guy has been dating a woman for about a year. They started in a long distance relationship which seems to stand the test of the miles without fail. They talked, emailed, IMed daily and even traveled halfway across this great nation at least once a month. He traveled for about 6 weeks for work recently and she traveled for work for a longer duration and significantly farther away but they stayed in touch. He even re-routed business travel to get in one last weekend with her before he dug into his tasks. He did not know that his efforts would be in vain.

Things were still going well, so much so, that he scrounged up all of his pennies and began the quest for the female Holy Grail: a diamond. Metaphorically he picked up a string and pulled which caused the subsequent unraveling of this relationship. Unfortunately, all the following things happened TO him and left him holding a pile of string wondering “what the fuck just happened?” It goes a little something like this:

She gets distant but claims nothing is wrong. Emails are not returned, phones are not answered and excuses are made for both lacks of communication. Generic emails to groups of people, however, manage to arrive swiftly and regularly. They talk about this and get nowhere. He just wanted answers – good, bad, or indifferent. Can you blame him? Tell me you can and I’ll tell you that you’re a fucking liar. Anyway… this continues with further and further gaps until communication comes to a screeching halt. Now, had I been in contact with him, I’d have been counsel to him during these events, but if you were paying any attention to me, you’d know that he was away on business.

So this guy does what any red blooded American would do in the same situation and blew all the ring money on himself and bought a motorcycle. Why would he buy a diamond for her after the way she had been to him? He then returns home from his trip prepared to cruise around on the new bike, living the newly single life since he’s heard nothing from his woman and was pretty sure she had flown the coop. Well guess who shows up? Yup, just as unexpectedly as she disappeared, she was back. Reminds me of another article I wrote previously called “The Phantom.”

This makes no sense to him so naturally, he asks her if there’s someone else in her life. She swears up and down that there is not and even gets upset that he bought himself the motorcycle. He gives her a chance to explain her disappearance but she’s WAY too wrapped up in the stupid fucking motorcycle to bother taking a minute to save the relationship with the man that was going to buy her an engagement ring until she disappeared and CAUSED the purchase of the same bike that she was SO pissed about. At this point, he’s about had it with her and they decide to call it quits once and for all.

If that’s all that happened, this would be an open and shut case of a failed relationship and that happens in this world all the time. It’s a shame that’s not the case.

She shows up AGAIN after all is said in done. Apparently she had been checking up on him via the web and saw that he moved on and gave him some sob story about how much she missed him, etc. Of course he didn’t move on the way she thought but who dwell on such an event and remain away from the edge of a building? So he was ATTEMPTING to move on and just live his life.

So she wants to play Sherlock Holmes and see what he’s been up to? Two can certainly play the same game. One of the most notorious community sites out there houses a profile of said woman. This site gives “friends” an opportunity to comment on photos you’ve placed of yourself.

It goes without saying that it’s the first place he looked in his quest for information and closure. Neither of us was settled and sated by her indignation that there was nobody else in her life. And sure as shit, we find her to be a card carrying member of the Lying Slut Whore club when we see one of the aforementioned pictures that houses a comment by another male. Who woulda thunk it? I know you’re dying to know what the comment was. Well, I can’t and won’t restate it verbatim but it was something to the effect of this new guy telling her how great she looked in the photo, as always, and that he loved her very much.

So it’s time for the recap. She distanced herself from him to pursue the new guy and told him nothing of this. Why could this be? Maybe to not burn bridges in case the new guy turned out to be a dick which would also explain her recent return. Someone so cruel, cold and calculating doesn’t deserve either guy. What amazes me is that she had the audacity to get mad at him for getting the bike. Someone, PLEASE, explain to me how the fuck that is her right to complain or even give a shit given what she was up to. So she lied AND she cheated AND she came crawling back when it blew up in her face.

What did he do? I’ll be more than happy to outline that for you as well. He stuck by her while they were apart. He invested time, money, and emotions on her to make this relationship work and this is the payment he gets.

So ok… maybe I DID calm down just a bit on that one but the point remains the same. We, as men, constantly catch a bad rap about our behaviors and women get off free and clear with all of the romantic travesties they commit. Well folks, I’m sorry but I’m gonna raise the BS flag here. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… the double standard MUST come to an end. If you wanna be a lying slut whore then be a lying slut whore but realize that there are still decent people in this world and don’t drag the good guys into your ring of deception and bullshit. Pretend to be an adult for just a minute and conduct yourself as such. If you can’t do that… then… well… kill yourself because we don’t need that bullshit. My friend agrees. I told him all of this and said, “That’s truly how I feel” and he said, “Ditto.”

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Lying Slut Whores and the men that love them (part 2)

If you read part one of this miniseries, then you can only imagine what’s on the docket for part 2. More of the same intolerable cruelty on the part of what’s said to be the fairer sex

Here you will find 2 stories from my personal collection of lousy and downright unacceptable sets of circumstances with the broads.

First: Even earlier in my life than the lying slut whore from part one was another such woman who I spent the better part of a year with. We were still in school at this time. We met on the job and began dating. Neither of us had a shitload going on in our lives so we were able to spend a significant amount of time together and the relationship grew at an exponential rate. We had decided to keep sex out of the equation as she claimed (key word) to be waiting for the right one. I respected that. Once again, I’ll remind you as I did in part one that back then I was a sick, sick individual.

Days go by and weeks march on and things were right where we had hoped and expected them to be. One day I’m at work and she’s at school taking a final exam. As per usual, she meets me at work so we can have lunch together. Everything seems normal and we go on our way. One night we both attend a party. I didn’t know most of the people in attendance and everyone has a good time. The party winds down early so the contingent of people that I DID know find their way back to my place for some late night swimming and boozing. One of the latecomers pulls me aside with some news. Apparently, an individual that I met at the party earlier that evening had shared some information with my friend. Said information was such that he had slept with my then girlfriend. In a fit of rage, lawn chairs, picnic tables and anything else that wasn’t nailed down found it’s way into the pool by my hands. Luckily, the lying slut whore in question had gone home already by this point.

Naturally, I question the gentleman that confessed his sin to my friend and he swears he did not know she was with me. I chose to believe him over the simple fact that he took an ENORMOUS risk by coming clean with the disclaimer that should I find out that he lied to me then his best bet would be to just MOVE somewhere very, very far away.

When given an opportunity to come clean with anything I should know, she went into pure denial and told me boldface lies. So I came out with the fact that I KNEW and with a look of shock on her face she admitted it and asked me how I knew. I responded that it was not her problem any longer and she could feel free to fuck anyone she liked because I was done with her. She pleaded her case, stating that she knew not what she was doing to which I asked her “At ANY point did you look this man in the face and think ‘Hey, that doesn’t look like my boyfriend?’ or did you just not care?” I then reminded her that I was done with her and walked away.

The caveat to this: the day at lunch that I mentioned was less than an hour after she got out of his bed.

Analysis on this one: She lied about being a virgin, she cheated, she kept it from me and saw me almost immediately after this happened, she refused to come clean when given the opportunity and yet found it acceptable to beg for forgiveness.

Second: Either a few short months before that last relationship started or after it ended, I can’t remember which anymore, I had ANOTHER relationship. This one didn’t go on quite as long and the infidelity is yet unproven but as anyone who’s been cheated on can atest to, you just know when it’s happened. And on with the show:

We had been dating some months and New Year’s Eve was rolling around. I drove the hour and some change to where she lived to pick her up and bring her back to my place so we could spend the night out and about at a friend’s fraternity house (you can see how long ago this was). Things are, once again, going as planned and people are strewn throughout the house. I was always pleased that she was social enough to be able mix and mingle on her own without requiring the babysitting services of her boyfriend. Much to my shagrin, that was also what led to what I’m about to tell you. I go looking for her at one point and she’s nowhere to be found. Three floors of rooms plus a main floor with living room, etc and basement made for quite the search. Finally, I come across her on the third floor in a room reserved for seniors called “The Palace.” In said room, were only my lying slut whore and the definitive occupant of the room. They are not caught in the act but the did take some time to open the door and looked suspiciously nervous. I left with her and she cautiously walked the hallway with me as if she was expecting to hear me blow my stack but I had no proof and a long drive with her back home so I kept my cool.

I had to work the next day and so she hung out with some friends of hers that lived near me only to find out that she wanted to stay there rather than come back to me after I was done with work to partake in illegal and illicit drugs. Well, regardless of her wishes, I picked her up and took her home (the entire hour and change) and turned around and made my way back to my place. No words were exchanged as none were needed because we both just knew.

Last I heard she was blowing every guy that entered a 6 mile radius of wherever she happened to be kneeling at the time. Some people like to move up in the world. She got it backwards and decided to go down on the world. So good luck with that, I say.

So that about sums up part two and REITERATES just how horrible women can be. Still not the story that caused this miniseries, but it’s coming soon. Stay tuned for the third, and final, installment of “Lying Slut Whores and the men that love them.”

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