It’s funny how some things just pop into your head. Walking home today, I remembered this complete tool I used to work with, years ago, in my mid-twenties. I won’t say his name because he’s still at that company, but he’s close to retirement age, boofy white hair, wears his pants too high, and wears boat shoes. He’s the national advertising manager of a very small publishing company (several big fish in that small pond, let me tell you), and clearly thought he was a Fucking Good Catch.
He had no idea what I looked like because he never looked higher than my boobs.
He was an arse-groper, particularly every Friday afternoon after a liquid lunch.
He made my skin crawl.
Anyway, one day he walked into the kitchen – which was messy, as all office kitchens are – and said, “no wonder all these stupid sluts working here can’t get laid, they don’t keep the kitchen clean”.
Clearly his puny brain couldn’t handle the contradiction of a slut who can’t get laid.
Anyway, just thought I’d share that.