Dealing with double baggers

I try to understand women, I really do. I said that to Raven on the way back to the hotel after yesterday's barny, but all she did was guffaw in a strangulated kind of way. I tried to explain to her that the problem is that no matter how hard I try I just cannot get my head that far up my fucking arsehole to make sense of them which was when she started slapping her thighs in glee and yelping that I had just proved her point. Since I seem to be having trouble explaining my quite reasonable view to just about everyone these days, let's take the matter nice and slowly.

As a young fellow I took the view that I was quite happy to drink beer with any man and shag any woman. As an older man I am a bit more discriminating, or at least I need a couple of pints inside me if presented with a double bagger, that is to say a  creature so dog ugly that not only does she need to wear a brown paper bag but so does the guy shafting her in case hers falls off. Certainly I am less likely to even pretend to be nice to such a dog, especially if she needs to shed a few pounds to boot.

Thus it came to pass that yesterday I allowed myself to be provoked by a rather nasty piece of pussy that I should have just ignored. My excuse is that I was stone cold sober and in that state I would not have touched her with yours never mind mine, so I didn't really care what I said - and I said plenty, most of it obscene but all of it very enjoyable.

I suppose the moral of this tale is that if you are a double bagger best to wait until I am sloshed before provoking me as my dick may then decide that you are worth a ride. Thus I will  bite my tongue, even though my eyes are provoking my stomach to heave.

Alternatively, we could all just ignore such creatures, click on this link and find something nice to settle down with. You know it makes sense!