I'd choose the guy on the left

Back when I was a moderately cute teenager with the kind of bottom that stopped traffic and compelled some men to pleasure themselves in public*, I met a man at work that called me shortly after he left, for no professional reason. He wanted me to go out with him. When I said “no, thanks” he mentioned he was rich. Rejected again, he started to list his possessions until I found it impossible to stay on the phone. I never asked him if what he did worked with other women, but it probably did.

The EstablishedMen.com ad is repugnant for a few reasons, mainly that I wasn’t raised under the impression that I had to find a man in order to enjoy the good things in life. I always imagined I’d get those myself. I never dated for money, I didn’t marry for money, and while I’m not going to pretend I know or understand every particular that makes joining such a website inviting to some women, I find it alien to my nature, and emotionally unpalatable. To have a good time with a man I have to like him physically, and mentally at least a little bit. I’ve had buckets of fun in a van down by the river, on a mattress in a house with no furniture, in a cheap hotel, in my goddamned front porch.

If I wanted Italian food, I’d cook it myself; if I wanted to got to a U2 concert, I’d pay for the tickets the way I’ve always paid for concert tickets. If I was in a situation as shown in the video, I’d go for the guy that can shrink when frustrated. He’d be far more capable of showing me a good time than the other fellow. The guy with more money can find himself a whore. He can afford them, after all.

*Though that probably happens to many female ass owners.

10 thoughts on “I'd choose the guy on the left

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  1. Wow. I think I would choose the guy on the left too. To hang out with, that is. Whatever else did you think I meant?

    This ad demonstrates perfectly what attracts me to the idea of being in a relationship with a giantess, who wouldn’t care about me because of how rich or powerful I am. The way I see it, if she’s an independent woman, she won’t ditch me if I suddenly lose my job, or shrink down to a few inches in height–and especially not because I can’t jet her off to Paris whenever she wants a “romantic dinner.”

    In fact, Paris is the last place my fiancee wants to go. Our Valentine’s Day tradition: pizza and a bad movie at home.


    1. To hang out, of course. As to what definition of hanging out we’re referring…. :lol:

      What a wonderful Valentine’s Day tradition you two share! That day is centered around my son for a non traditional take on the celebration. He is the person I love the most on this Earth, after all.


  2. I thought of sending you that, but also found it off putting. I’m sure everybody knows famous people. Bono though? I ask you isn’t that a little over the top? And what happens once she’s been introduced to Bono? Does the erstwhile big shot start shrinking too?

    Here’s a better scenario though what service it may advertises is, well irrelevant.

    A man is seated at a bar stool. An affluent business woman occupies the stool next to him

    Affluent Lady: “Hello there sir, you look like you’ve had a rough day, can I buy you a drink?”
    Small Dark and Handsome: (irritatedly) “What makes you say that?” (after a moments consideration of her finery and stature) “Well, I mean how’dja know?”
    AL: reaches across extending finger into the collar of the mans shirt. It is buttoned to the top and he’s wearing a tie. She twirls her finger around inside tickling his neck and collarbone. “You’ve lost at least three sizes.”
    SDH: “Well if you must know, some loaded dickhead ran off with my date!”
    AL: “That’s terrible, some people have no class whatsoever, so can I buy you a drink?”
    SDH: “That’s nice of you, but I think I’ll pass. I’m going home.”
    AL: Have a drink first. On. me. I’ll drive you home later.”
    SDH: You don’t even knowwhere I live.
    AL: Sir, you are facetious. I meant my home of course!
    SDH:(gulps) That’s really nice of you, madam, but I have my own car.
    AL: Yes but you’re having a drink. I’ve got my eye on that bottle of three year old Malbec, My chauffeur, yes that’s her to your right will drive us back later.
    SDM: What about my car?
    Chauffeur: ( reaches into her bag, produces a tiny mangled car and holds it in her hand.) “You mean this? Sorry. Didn’t see it.”
    SDM: (tie sliding down over his hips) “What happened to it!”
    AL: Isn’t it obvious? She stepped on the hood. But don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one. In the meantime, why don’t you let me make it up to you.
    SDM: “I’m leaving right now!”
    AL: “That’s quite a drop! You wouldn’t want to break your leg. And besides, you have no clothes on your back!
    SDM: (cringes, curls into pile of clothes) “What did I do to deserve this?”
    AL: “Nothing, it’s not about you at all. I just acquired a workable patent on cold fusion. Cost me a small fortune, but in a years time we’ll be filthy rich. So I deserve this! (reaches down and plucks him out from crumpled clothes) Now I’d better get you out of there before someone sits on you. (to chauffeur, indicating clothes) “You better get rid of these.”


    1. I’m quite sure I get the best blog comments on the planet. What a fun scenario! I laughed out loud at the tiny mangled car. I haven’t gotten a hold of a single patent, nor do I have my own driver, but I absolutely deserve a shrunken man.


  3. Once again you sound like the perfect woman. You are low maintenance and you want to shrink men to be your toys! *^_^* Always a pleasure to hear your thoughts on things.


    1. Thank you hopier,

      I sound like the perfect giantess, and in my mind I am. Woman? Not so much, as maintenance goes through the roof in some ways, but I’ll never openly admit that.


      1. My mind wanders imagining how you could possibly be high maintenance. He blushes as he recalls all the demands you place on your little guys and how they have to perform, “at the drop of a skirt”. Oh. *~_^*


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