Today’s American woman can’t seem to wrap their collective heads around the fact that graduate degrees, corner offices, and fancy job titles don’t get d***s hard.

The stares you get from biological clock ticking late 20’s/early 30’s American white women. Especially tall white women. God damn they hate it so much to see a tall white guy with a petite Asian woman. The dumpier the American woman’s body – the more bitter she looks too. It’s fucking glorious. I wish I could collect their tears to use as lube for when I jerk off.

My current main f**k buddy is Asian. Not too long ago I decided I would cook us a nice meal and we went shopping together for the food. We’re having a good time shopping and getting everything together; laughing, smiling, and I’m in a great mood knowing I’m going to have a great meal, great wine, and great sex in my immediate future.

To brighten my already wonderful evening even more, we get to the check out line, and what is it I see? Well, none other than a 30ish bleach blonde checking out in front of us. Of course, I take inventory – no wedding ring, somewhat defeated looking facial expression from what I imagine was a long hard week of being a strong independent working woman – I’m loving it. I look at her groceries: Hot Pockets, Pop-Tarts, Tombstone frozen pizza’s, Activia Yogurt (the yogurt that helps you take a shit), and hot dogs to name a few of the more memorable items. I’m laughing my ass off inside.

I start unloading the basket onto the belt and I’ve got fresh salmon, 1 lbs of shrimp, fresh asparagus, and red potatoes; plus ingredients. Blondie observes me unloading this and gives me the “You goddamn mother fucker” look. I give her the “I’m winning at life and you’re not, bitch” smirk while wrapping my arm around my sexy little Asian spinner.

Dinner was good, the sex was good, and knowing blondie went home to a microwaved meal was the icing on the cake.