Every Day a Sausage Festival

I would never say that I hated my old job. Sometimes it sucked a hairy/ashy/sweaty/cheesy ballsac bad porn stye but whatever. I loved that job anyway. I loved my co-workers even when they hated me. They were mostly women and it was the best thing ever. I had no idea how lucky I was. I’m so dumb.
I’m almost to the end of my 90 day probation period at my new job. So much has happened since I started working at the place I call the sausage festival.
I realized something about myself in the first thirty days that shocked me. I’ve always considered myself to be a dude trapped in a bitch’s body. I was wrong. I’m not anything like a man. Men are fucking boring. They never shut up. They need constant attention. Men suck. They gossip worse than chicks. They can say fifty different things in the span of one hour and odds are only one of those things will be interesting or acceptable.
Men talk about womens’ bodies like they are public property. I can’t handle that information. I wish I could erase that information from my brain. I will never want to know what any man thinks of my body or the body of any female. Ever. Seriously. I don’t fucking care. People are so much more than their fucking bodies.
Last week a male co-worker asked me if I wore bras. I said yes. Then he asked me if I wore bras constantly. I said yes. Then he asked me if I wore bras to bed to sleep in. I rolled my eyes. Then I said yes. Then he told me about how what I was doing was a good thing because when you get older you can really tell whether or not a woman wore bras all her life by looking at her boobs. Hey, thanks assclown, for fucking up my mental peace. I know he doesn’t get it. I know most men don’t. I can’t and won’t speak for all women, but men are the absolute worst.
I think about switching teams a lot these days. I had a chance to be with an amazing woman, pretty much the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. But I fucked it up because penis is my all-time favorite toy. Now I feel so torn. On one hand, I love penis so much it makes me squirt. On the other, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life surrounded by lame ass dudes. I don’t want to spend all day with assholes just to go home to another asshole. Nuh-uh. No thank you.
There is another guy at work(just kidding, there’s like a thousand)who is close to my age. He doesn’t work every day. His baby mama is pregnant. I work with him once a month tops. I’ve have maybe five conversations with him in the past six months. Every time I see him he gives me “the eyes.”
Please stop pretending that you don’t know what I’m talking about. Fine. I’ll explain it. “The eyes” are what another person gives you the moment you say or do something that makes them want to bang you. I know that look pretty much every time I see it staring me down. It used to be a sirens call, a challenge, and a dare. Now, it’s starting to turn into a cliched insult.
I used to find men so interesting. So mysterious. So fascinating. So magnetic.
So blah blah blah.
Sigh.
Maybe this is just a dark phase or something, like puberty. Maybe in another month I’ll wake up one day and be back to loving the man attached to the dick. Or maybe I should just give up and eat cookies for every meal while wearing a bra never again. But then no one would want to bang me. Right?

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