Home > Random Thoughts > Women Need To Know That They’re Not Dating A Lunatic

Women Need To Know That They’re Not Dating A Lunatic

lunatic

A lunatic.

Women like to feel safe, protected, secure. That’s why the other night, when me and my girl were sitting in a dark parking lot enjoying some gas station sandwiches, I gazed into her eyes, took her hand in mine, and told her, in all seriousness, “I’m not going to kill you.”

That’s the most reassuring thing you can tell your significant other. Well, one of the most reassuring things. Once, when we were sifting through garbage looking for dumpster donuts, the alley light reflected just right off a pool of a homeless man’s urine, and I couldn’t help but let her know: “Your eyes are so beautiful. There’s no way I would ever spend my nights and weekends modifying my vacuum cleaner’s motor to give it enough power to suck those gorgeous spheres right out of your head and then display them in a jar of formaldehyde on a shelf next to my bed, leaving you as an eyeless freak.”

Because, you see, most women don’t want to be tortured either. It’s important to remind them that you don’t plan on putting them through that.

I can recall another time, shortly after we were digging through that dumpster, when we went to the actual dump itself, in search of the mother lode. You see, the top layer of junk preserves any foodstuffs below quite immaculately, makin’ for good eatin’, if you’ve got a free afternoon for siftin’ and pickin’. But I digress. So there we were, having one of those romantic trash fights you see in movies. As I was about to slam an old toilet seat over her back, the curves of her body were caught in silhouette against the flames of the incinerator. “You have such an amazing body,” I said. “If I were some sort of psychopath, I would be salivating right now, thinking of how I could chop you up into little pieces, dump them off at a hog farm in Wisconsin, and be back in time for breakfast. But I’m NOT going to do that.”

For a relationship to survive, the woman needs to know these things. These ladies, they lay awake nights, sweating, staring at the ceiling, wondering to themselves: “I really like this guy, but I really want to know if he’s going to lock me in a basement for a week, only feeding me dog food and rainwater, while he wears my clothes and tells me how stupid they look. If only he would tell me that he isn’t going to do any of that.”

This is why heartbreak the world over exists in such large volumes. If lovers would just speak from the heart, and let their partner know their true feelings, we could all be happier. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go call my girlfriend to let her know that I will NOT be making a stir fry out of her calf muscles and all the vegetables sitting on my counter.

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  1. September 23, 2013 at 3:51 pm

    Amazing insight. I’m glad I never had to compete against you on The Dating Game.

  2. September 23, 2013 at 6:33 pm

    Priceless!

  3. September 23, 2013 at 7:34 pm

    When you are being that specific, you would need to mention all possible things that you won’t do to her, otherwise she’ll say “Oh, he won’t chop me into pieces, great. But what about throwing me off a cliff and making it look like an accident? Did he say he won’t do that? Does his silence mean he will?”

    • September 23, 2013 at 8:59 pm

      The longer a relationship lasts, the more time you have to tell her all the sick and twisted things that you won’t do to her.

  4. September 24, 2013 at 9:12 am

    Last night I was having dinner with a friend and a “gentleman” spent the whole night interrupting our conversation to remind us that he had no intention of being the jerk that keeps interrupting a dinner conversation. I suppose I should have appreciated his honesty. 🙂

    • September 25, 2013 at 6:33 pm

      Haha, well how were you supposed to know he wasn’t interrupting you if he didn’t let you know?

  5. September 24, 2013 at 10:02 am

    Lines like this are what made me fall for Mr. Weebles. When he promised never to chop me into little pieces with a meat cleaver, I was putty in his hands. And then when he vowed never to entomb me in a coffin-like box for weeks on end, taking me out only to torture me, I knew I’d marry him.

  6. October 7, 2013 at 11:53 am

    Calf muscles? I’m partial to ankles myself.

  1. November 20, 2013 at 7:53 pm

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