Because life has tossed me lemons

When someone thinks of how perfect life could be… what am I talking about? When does that ever happen? That’s right. Life isn’t perfect. Deal with it! Shit happens and sometimes you get a whole batch of lemons when instead you were looking for a sensual bouquet of roses. As I said, shit happen. So what to do with that batch of unwanted yellow goodness? Some people say “make lemonade!”… I say “squeeze that juice out into the eyes of those who’ve broken your balls!” Yes… a violent approach some would say, but to take a bad situation and to make it a good one can be not only demeaning, but all out screwed up. If someone does you wrong, you don’t just let that person keep doing wrong while you accept it and think, “oh! it could be worse!!!”… or how about the attitude where you decide to try and change that person, because that’s all they need, a bit of TLC because their past use to suck ass? No, how about you make sure that person knows what they did and pay for it. Turn the other cheek my ass. Only if it means I get to smack that one as well! I’ve been deprived of male contact for more than a year. I never thought of it really… men were not an integral part of my life; they never were. To me, men were those with whom I played a game or two or chased down squirrels with, not a date. I was raised by men, and because of that, I know them… and I know them well. I can understand and empathize with many of their behaviors and flaws, but, so help me Zeus’ second cousin in law, that I will let their urges turn me into their sex slave bitch! So I guess you’re wondering where all of this pent up anger is coming from, at least, that one person who actually knows me… My dear friend set me up on a date with her old friend. She totally thought it would be a great idea, and so did I. He emailed me, he seemed nice. He called me, he seemed nice. He took me to dinner, payed who knows how much. He seemed nice. This was date 1. He drops me off, but then comes out of the car, talks… it’s cold. I let him in. He still seems nice. We talk… He wants to see my room… Ok… he sits on my bed. I show him my old cellphone and some pictures… He leans over and kisses me… where did that come from! Not a sweet kiss, some fucking perverted shit! Toungue down the throat nast! Ok, I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. “What will the housemates think!” He gets me down. He sneakily gropes around… I don’t know what to do… Nothing happened. I stopped it. He fell asleep in my bed. I was mortified. He comes to pick me up at work later. Bad idea. All he wants to do is… So you see, I knew nothingn about him. We never talked about each other. All he wanted was a piece of fuck that he didn’t know or want to care about. This is my luck with men. I’m the small, cute blonde Italian girl who people love to victimize. Well, that’s it. I’m shoving my fucking taser up his ass next time.