i have absolutely no qualms when it comes to working with women... but let's face it... in this profession... all the thrills are gone when women have joined our ranks: when once upon a time this was an exclusively masculine profession... there's so much less chance for violence, also thrills... which makes life: livable... bearable... but unsatisfying to the eternal quest of man's: ooh... what's there?! what's that? domesticated licking a wound that has yet to be inflicted... i'm bored... and every other one is having some mental health crisis... the asylum imploded and the worms are wriggling out to be unable to see the sun... i was paired up with this poor little thing today... why do women trust me to the point of revelling in revealing all their personal problems? i don't get it... am i a ******* psychologist on the side? do i have a rubber ear or something? sure... i'll listen: but i'm asking myself... every time i ask to be placed on either turnstiles or where the action is... i get the easy shift at Fulham... in Bishop's Park... which is a doodle... which is a yawn... but my "supposed" supervisor... Emma... she once dyed her hair acid green... now she's fluorescent purple... hmm... women and hair colour... when i was younger... i had this archetypical burn for blondes... i was obsessed with a girl named Milena... a girl named Samantha... a girl named Janina... all of them: blondes... ***** blondes... blondes of all types... but now? god almighty: restrain me! gingers! i finally reached an argument to find this current girl... 5ft... something or other... only today i managed to spot her ***... tight... small... firm... almost like a Christmas present... but this little ginger number is unlike my prior ginger investment... this one's not whiskey hued... auburn... darkened ginger... this is a lighter shade... the same pale skin... but she's more prone to patches of freckles... i'm going mad over gingers... i can't help myself... there's something so appealing about these remnants of the Celtic... you work with women... and... somehow... you working together they start treating it like it's your first ******* date... can't i just be coupled with a guy and talk about Heidegger's hammer?! they're good people... but... i really don't want to work in an environment of autobiographical context... i'm here: to do X... by the time Y comes around and we clock out... i'm Z: on my way home... looking for a shop that's open that still sells beer... the **** i hear i should be paid double... i get it though... i get it... i'm human... we're supposed to share our little stories... i was paired with a girl that finally allowed me to open up... i'm guessing there's a Whatts-Up group... i've been hearing the same ******* questions from about 6 different women... today i explored the fact that: yes, i've been engaged... she broke it up with me and is now on her second marriage... do you have kids? to be honest? i don't know.... which is sort of funny... even if i have i will never know about them... why are you the only child?! oh, you know... i was born two weeks after Chernobyl... even my grandparents remember that spring... you had streaks of autumn hues in the trees... my mother didn't have a second child because she feared... because of my birthmark on my right shoulder blade... since removed... she might have ***** mutations... bring forth Siamese twins... a burden... nature is cruel: so should man's intellect... be likewise... hey presto... what did we pass? a piece of a bird... well... a bit of the torso and a wing... where's the rest? sort of fits into the narrrative of... me having a piece of flesh removed from my shoulder-blade... with an overgrowth of muscle around the collar-bone... i just want to be in the stadium... where the action is... i get ******* put on the easy shift... 'i want to work with Matthew!' they are seriously sussing me out... all of them... single mums... i don't believe any of these women are single... my "supervisor" keeps nagging me about... when i misheard her... she said: hello DARLING... i thought she said: hello DADDY... now i'm ******* Daddy... she just keeps on nagging me about mishearing the word... i listen to music on full volume... i should be deaf by now... but she can't let it go... in the background she has these weird mobile conversations concerning family courts... she's in the process of being divorced... most of these women have dated... dated... reproduced with absolute *******... and that's my problem, now?! now? it's a bit like that sccene at the funeral of Ernest Menville in: Death Becomes Her... he lived... the better best days of his life after 35... after... all that crap... it's a sick ******* ploy... why am i working this easy shift?
oh... right... somewhere down the middle my supervisor turns into my mother in need of painkillers complaining about backpains... i know where this leads... women give birth... the ultimate pain: couldn't we just bypass the whole drama and give them a Cesarean? oh right... then the Bible would be all wong: wrong; women would not have to give birth in agony... sorry... sowwy... m'ah b'ah... b'ah... bad... costs too much: mind you...
but what the **** am i? a ******* hugging-slot-machine?! we're working, no? so... why am i hugging these women on their whim?! one of my ex-girlfriends warned me about this: i know, i know i am not a godsend for women...
do... plumbers hug when at work?! do plumbers hug? it's like that meme: can two straight men share an umbrella?! i get it... being friendly... fair ******* enough... but... a woman approaches you... kisses you on the cheek... hugs you... hell... she can get away with it... because of man's constant "hard-on"... but... do that in reverse and what do you get?!
i'm as lucky as i'm unlucky... the women that surround me?! they share stories of men treating them like ****... see... that's the problem... when you're a man with too many interests from women... you sort of become a woman... because... women start treating you like ****... you sort of become their dumping ground... let's see what we can get away with... i'm pretty sure they don't know that i frequent brothels... i'm going to get paid tomorrow... Thursday... another shift... come Friday? i'm going to text Khedra and get my ******* ****** off...
but this one ginger tonight... she's a curious little thing... i know she is... we were about to stand down... the "supervisor" already called it in... since the crowd was dispersing... but what did this: new cutie ginger in my life do? she drags me for a one-on-one into the park... to "check": optics... i'm not going to brag... i love women... which implies: i don't want to understand them... i love women too much to want to understand them... and i do see it... some guys have no ******* chance... you have bad teeth? or no teeth? no chance... bad hair? i.e. oily... not washed... no chance... bad posture? no chance... not ironed shirts or trousers? no chance... sorry... not calm enough? no chance... nature is cruel... so should be man's intellect... it should be like sandpaper when all you want to ask for it... gliding your hand across a body of water... no no... that's not going to happen... time to roughen up... i need sand under my ******* while i rub rub a... ha ha... an "SOS"... working with women is weird... even my father once exclaimed... yeah... saw a female bricklayer... i'm not sure if she was a butch type of lesbian... she must have been i remarked... that's how homosexual relationships work... they still return to the dynamic of: someone's going to be masculine while the other is going to be feminine... no? surrogate ******* the medium: which is ******* harsh... i could be blasted for frequenting brothels... but... surrogate ******* is... akin to boxing: a punch below the ******* belt... that's... not ******* with the ****... but ******* with the womb... that's ******* harsh...
every single ******* time i work with these women i'm suspect... i'm always ******* dating... i don't want to date... i want to work... no... no work here... cuddling... ugh... but this one ginger number... the one that dragged me for the optical illusion of being in the right place at the right time... what a tight ***... again: when i was younger... the archetypical blondes... but as i've aged... gingers... Celtic beauties... an antithesis of... Cerdic & the Saxons in the film King Arthur... gingers... i'm starting to build up a fetish for them... they ooze... beside the clot of freckles... that... mmm... milk-prowess-synonym of their... tender... skin...
no... sorry... i'm sort of blinded... "work" has become sort of become sort of a schoolyard... girls on boys boys on girls... what a load of *******... i tried it with one ginger... Valentine's flowers... crard... banana loaf... home-made-wine... not good enough... not complicated enough... vinyl collection? not good enough... well ******* not good enough... there's always another ginger in the poker-hand... mind you: her *** looks... hmm... better than yours...
what a pretty little thing... if i managed to give her the blushes... i'm sure... i'm pretty ******* sure... i'd see as many freckles as i'd see on a Dalmatian! like i said: i love women too much to not want to understand them...
oh man... this ginger cutie... what else? if not a single mum... instead of a hug she dragged me into having a one-on-one convo with me... oh sure... it's great... in the "upper tier"... but it's not like they settle for you... you're in the leftover crowd... chasing forever the middle ground...
the safety net of... it's nice seeing those ringed fellas running around with problems... i'm not joining the club... dying all alone... in a hospital... can't be that bad... learning from my grandfather: compared to living a life of absolute misery for over 40 years... no... thanks... as long as i'm desired... better... than being kept by one ******* sparrow-sing-along.