« | Home | »

Love is in the air

I fucking hate Valentine’s Day. Every year it’s the same shit, expensive flowers, expensive chocolates, expensive wine that never seems to taste as good as the cheap shit you normally drink and, worst of all, the feeling that no matter what you do to please your missus, she always seems a little bit disappointed with your efforts. Last year it was the card. After spending the equivalent of East Timor’s GDP on a bunch of poxy roses, I thought I’d save myself a couple of Euro and get her a crude but funny card instead one of those big, flowery, glitterly cards that has a strange way of making you feel like a total sap when you get to the counter.

So when I got home I gave her the flowers and the chocolates and she seemed very happy until she opened the card. Turns out she thought we had “moved on” in our relationship and said I should be able to express my love for her in a mature and articulate way. Obviously, she didn’t see the maturity in buying a card that had a condom stapled to the inside (safe sex, right?)  and felt “let down” by my boyish attitude. We didn’t talk much over dinner but we ate up, drank up and went upstairs. Although we did have sex that night it was only because we felt obligated to. She rolled over to go asleep as soon as we were done and I began to wonder if that was what it felt like to sleep with a hooker. Since she was already snoring I found myself thinking some more about the day and about how much money I spent and I also started thinking about how much it would’ve cost for a half-decent hooker. From what I’ve heard I guessed it would be in and around €150-€200. The cogs in my brain began to turn and I jumped out of bed to call my mate Gumbo who’s a right dirty cunt and would be up for anything, even at 1am.

It didn’t take much persuasion to get Gumbo on board with my plan. He is, it should be noted, an ugly, smelly bastard with a serious weight problem so he doesn’t get it on very often. Actually, as far as I’m aware, you could count his conquests on one finger, and you certainly won’t find him bragging about that “woman” either. Gumbo told us after that he thought he must have inadvertently taken some acid the previous night because he kept getting flashes of what looked like a gorilla in his mind when they had sex. Poor cunt.

Anyway, when I met with Gumbo I explained that I hadn’t any money on me and that my bank account was also cleared out from buying all the Valentines crap.  “Say no more” he said, “Your old pal Gumbo is here to the rescue”. He asked me how much it would be for the sex and I told him it would be around €200. “I’ll tell you what” he said, “I’ll give you €250, but only if I can do her up the ass”.  “It’s a deal”, I said, “that’ll surely cover the cost of the flowers and chocolates I bought her…”

“…And she might learn to be a bit more fucking grateful next year!”

About this entry

You’re currently reading “Love is in the air,” an entry on Shitetalker.com

Published:
Feb 13 2008 / 1:23 am
Category:
Blog