Jill Y is a realist and constantly tells me that she’s too good for me and she’s massively right. How she puts up with me and my juvenile ways, I’ll never know. I love that woman so much and would be lost without her. Lately though, her realism has been rubbing off on me and I’ve started to think about what to do when she eventually leaves me for a grown up who doesn’t have the 54,981 faults that I have. I’ve been wondering about the type of woman I should date and have narrowed it down to three:
I can't say I'm brilliant until I get this duct tape off my mouth!
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Tags: 18 Year Olds, 981 faults that I have. I've been wondering about the type of woman I should date and have narrowed it down to three, Bill Y, Compares you to her husband that has everything but stopped paying attention to her, Girls YOUR age, Hates it when you play X-Box more than anything in the world, her realism has been rubbing off on me and I've started to think about what to do when she finally leaves me for a grown up person who doesn't have the 54, Higher sex drive, I'll never know. I love that woman so much and would be lost without her. Lately though, Jill Y, Jill Y is a realist and constantly tells me that she's too good for me and she's massively right., Older Women, Plays X-Box games with you, Who Shoud You Date?
Bill older women don’t notice faults if you’re good in bed . . .
This is some damn good advice, how come school doesn’t teach you that?
Some things don’t have to be taught.
That’s it then, I’m going to call it a day with Jill Y and find myself an older woman!
Well, thank God you are in a committed relationship because all these women sound really scary right now! So, take Jill Y out for a really romantic dinner and say, “Damn, I am lucky!”
I second this, of course.
But if any man really has to make a choice, I think we older women rock!
Older women do rock but they also have less time for my many faults.
I am damn lucky and I am a romantic guy. One time I was meeting Jill Y for lunch and I got there early. She was just getting to the door when that so-called music of Bon Jovi came seeping through the speakers, ready to infect like a bubonic plague. Rather than have her infected, I put my foot through the speakers. Who here among us can dare say that that wasn’t romantic?