Men are disgusting. They deserve absolutely nothing from me. Give a man a bit of your time and he thinks he has a right to your life. Filthy creatures.
I was brought up by parents who gave me everything, literally every single thing I wanted. My dad ensured that my sister and I each had a car before we turned 18. He made sure to show me the kind of life to expect, the kind of treatment I deserve. No man deserves to get any single help from me unless he’s lavishing money on me.
Ladies, men are only good for two things; taking care of bills and sex. If they ain’t doing any of them right, then they certainly deserve no place in your life.
Imagine this guy I wasted three months with. Three precious months of my life that I cannot get back, I wasted on this miserable leech. He was practically living off me. ME! In an apartment that my father paid for. Such a shameless tout.
The sex was great, so it was easy to believe his lies initially. Oh, my car broke down. Oh, my workers are annoying so I prefer to work from the comfort of my home. Oh, I like spending time with you so I’d rather not go home just yet. Excuses, excuses! That’s how this idiot managed to live off me and distract me with great sex for three complete months.
My sanity came back to me in a flash. I woke up one morning and saw his lazy ass snoozing next to me and a wave of disdain rushed through me.
I kicked him out there and then and cried for a few minutes, mourning all the money I’d spent fending for an extra mouth, all of my pocket money that I’d wasted on the jerk. I can never refer to him as an ex. He doesn’t deserve that title.
I haven’t made that mistake again since then. The minute a man tells me something as stupid as he forgot his wallet, I’ll walk out on him there and then, leaving him to come up with a miraculous way to settle the bills.
My love language is simple: money. Provide for me or you won’t even see my shadow.
You love me? Okay, that’s very good, but how much is in your account? Can you pay my rent? Give me an allowance?
Respect you? Darling, I have absolutely no problem with doing that. I’ll even do your laundry so long as the money is right and the sex is great. Otherwise, you better take your broke self out of my life.
Men are trash, and until I find one that meets all of my needs, none of them deserves the title of boyfriend.
I might be just 22 years old, but I’ve dated enough men to know that not one of them is worth expending any emotions on.