Living a fast-paced life is something I've been accustomed to for a few years, now. The same routine as follows: work at the office, return home for a lonely dinner, and listen to the same love song on repeat. A quiet apartment always drives me insane, but one day I'll rebel against my daily routine.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm a loser for going to Jimmy's Bar alone, almost every weekend. Usually I sit there in my expensive name-brand clothes and order expensive drinks. Twelve dollars a round for a glass of Scotch, and I'm at it like a mad man that hasn't sexed a woman in ages. I like to drink off the dry spell, but normally I get interrupted by the desperate bartender who looks like a slut. Her cleavage almost close to her chin, and messy weave that looks all knotted and unattractive with her tight clothes. I hate desperate sluts that want to nail me for a buck, but I'm won't tolerate it at all! And it's always the ugly ones.
Love has messed me up badly, just like the punk ass B*tch that left me for her pimp. "He loves me Ron, and I gave my heart to him" that's all I hear in my ears. She didn't give her heart to him, them legs of hers got parted like the Red Sea. The last thing she told me was that she loved me, but she needed to move the fuck on. She was only about materialistic things anyway! I guess with a body to lust after she could get any man to want her: Big breast, Wide ass, good pus$y, and tall bare legs. I swear if I ever see her again, I'd do something to her like no other. No, I don't mean kill her but maybe sexually torture her like she did to me.
Alice, she had me under a spell that I couldn't break. Maybe there were blinders that she put over my eyes like they do with a horse. The woman had me wrapped around her finger, and still I could smell the lingering of her perfume that she'd wear strictly for our love making sessions. There couldn't have been any real love in this situationship for her to leave me so helpless. All Alice did was give me love in the most dirty ways, but I liked it for some reason. The kinkiness was arousing and tempting, but it was about time that I moved on just like she did.
Six months, and still she's gone and never coming back to me. If I could just find a classy woman with goals and clothes, maybe I'd get something better in the mailing package. I do know that only women who don't play those childish games holds the key to the kind of love I need. I can't do another lonely dinner night with just the sound of a fork hitting the plate and my teeth, anymore.
A year ago there was something called "Krunkaoke" every wednesday night at a club nearby. I went religiously and became one of the few creepy superstar regulars who dropped hot gangsta classics every Wednesday. The first time I went I was really nervous, but after doing "How We Do" by The Game, I was hooked. Eventually Krunkaoke became too packed (is that possible?), and they cancelled it!
Desperate for a Karaoke fix, I started going to Rain, which is a gay club a couple blocks from where I live. They had a cool light up stage, but the mediocre sound system and guys trying to grab my ass left me looking for alternatives.
Then one night it happened. I was working late and I thought I heard bad singing at the club downstairs. Could it be... Karaoke?