So I want a MILF… What’s the big deal?

I’m gonna be honest… This is probably not the smartest idea I’ve ever had…You know how, when you were a kid, you’re mom always told you not to do anything wrong or she would find out… Well, I never believed her… Until I did something wrong and she inevitably found out before I even had a chance to confess… Well, actually, that story is made up, because I was perfect and never got in trouble… BUT, you still get the point… Mom’s always know… So what is so stupid? What incredibly ridiculous idea have I come up with this time? Well, I am going to tell stories of her top-secret motherly wisdom right here on this blog. Yes, that is right boys and girls, cats and kittens, you are going to get what I like to call, the inside scoop.

I would, at this point, like to point out that I have already built to the point that you inevitably be disappointed when I finally get to the story… I just want to warn you now… Don’t say I never did anything for ya… So strap on your seatbelts, dildos, and beer hats… We’re going for a crazy ride…

Today my mother and I had… “THE TALK”… Yes, I am probably a little old for “THE TALK”, especially since, well, it isn’t “THE TALK” that you probably have envisioned. No, this “TALK” (okay, really, I’m done with the over killed capitalized quotes) was about what I have become as a person.

Apparently my mom thinks I am an utterly shallow, conceded asshole. WHICH ONE OF YOU EFFERS TOLD HER? Oh wait, I guess that was me. I made the innocent comment that the girl she wants to set me up with would most likely hate me because, well, I am not really her type… Sometimes I just know these things… True, what I was really saying was that she wasn’t AT ALL my type, but, honestly, who’s keeping track.

My ingeniously flawless logic apparently struck a sour note with my dear mother who spent the next 10 minutes telling me how sweet I used to be (her words), how she didn’t raise me to be a conceded asshole (my words, not hers), and how if I don’t marry an ugly chick, I would rot in hell (okay, you caught me… I stopped listening fairly soon after she started talking about me being sweet)…. I apparently am bitter that nice guys finish last (I think that line woke me from my trance) and have concocted a very bitter pill known as sarcasm to combat my newfound wisdom.

All this would make a hell of a lot more sense if a.) I wasn’t always a smart ass, b.) I dated exclusively dead beat, bimbo sluts, and/or c.) I was finishing somewhere besides last at this point in my life.

Pretty much, I’ve always welcomed all uncomfortable situations, like, you know dating, with an aura of smart-assed, playful banter, and laughing at myself and my surroundings. That’s kinda my MO… I’m the dude that makes fun of everything, including myself, you laugh then get naked… and we get along really well…

I have dated a very limited number of girls more than 5 times, but all of those I have, she has liked. I have had a grand total of ZERO one night stands in my life and have met a whooping 3 girls in bars… The girls that I do seem to like and can put up with my shit for more than a couple dates have all met my mom… They love her… She loves them… It’s like a platonic orgy of love (yes, I know Joey… that was repetitive)… Yet I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m out meeting horny, gross sluts and doing them in the butt or something just because I think they are cute… (True, I probably would if I could, but I can’t)

And I still finish last in nearly every situation. I have a big, blinking, neon sign stapled to my ridiculously good looking forehead that reads, “BFF MATERIAL. Now Open”. The only girls that seem to want me are the types that are in love with being in love… Because it’s apparently fun, this being in love…

::Run on sentence alert::

So, like the wonderful son I am, I tried to explain to my poor dear mother that I am an alpha dog and I swallow up unsuspecting girls’ personalities, leaving them on the other side of the table in a complete mute trance, not able to get a word in edge wise because, well, I am too gorgeous. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t buy it.

I then tried to explain that I did like girls with wonderful personalities who complimented me… But I also like hot chicks that look good naked… I’ll be honest, I phrased it a little more tactfully at the time, but you guys don’t like tact. Mom’s do. I don’t understand why I can’t have both… That’s my argument… “Mom, why can’t I have a girl that is beautiful and smart and funny and cool? Am I not pretty enough?”

See kids, this is the ideal strategy to get moms to stop talking about your weaknesses and start giving you gold stars and pats on the head: Ask them if your penis is long enough (if you want them so grossed out they never talk to you again) or ask them if you are cute (the more safe bet)… Different situations call for different measures….

She was still a tiny bit iffy, wondering if she had, in fact, raised a shallow asshole for a son. So I did what all good boys do to win and end arguments… Compliment the beeya. “Mom, I just want someone like you…. Who will be a wonderful mother, a loving wife, someone I can feel proud getting caught receiving naked pictures at my work email address, and whose kids’ friends will be proud to call a MILF.” Oh, how flattery always works. She finally saw where I was coming from… I was just looking for a younger version of her… And all was well…

And while it seems like maybe I pulled out all the stops, I didn’t have to pull out the big gun. The one thing that ALWAYS works when mom talks about my shallowness… I know that all I have to say is, “well, you want cute grandbabies, RIGHT? Do you really think boinking ________________ will get you pretty little babies? No WAY! I’ve been looking in the mirror and you and I both will agree that I need all the help I can get…”

And that would be that… Because, she too noticed that I needed a little help.. And all good grandmas want cute babies, RIGHT? Now forgive me while I continue my favorite online activity, sending kinky messages to hot MySpace whores!