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Heartbreakers VI

Dancer: Yoga Ass

Dancer: Yoga Ass

Yoga Ass was a classic heartbreaker.

I met her at the Hipster Bar – the other one – she was sitting at the bar, talking to some hipster loser when I noticed her. I walked up to the bar, ordered some sort of micro-brew, stole a glance, and got one back. She was talking to some dude about whatever. I listened for a minute and then interrupted – oh, you like so-and-so. I love that. You ever go to such-a-place? She lights up, starts talking to me, oh yeah, something something, love blah blah.

Soon the hipster loser leaves, and I get her to myself for a few minutes. Something something, ever been to this place? Blah blah. What do you do? I’m a farmer.

It’s a lie – but sort of, kind of, maybe based on truth. I could pull it off.

“A farmer? Oh. We should get married.”

That’s girl game.

You see, that’s what Yoga Ass was up to. She was looking for a husband. In the lamest, worst way possible. The way only a stupid 21 year old could do. But if you grow up in a third rate small town, with very limited options, this is what you do.

Classic heartbreaker. Raised by a feminist, divorced mom. A good relationship with her father, if distant, who had long moved on and married a decent woman. But daughters love their mothers, no matter how crazy and fucked up they are. That’s a feature, not a bug, really. But thanks to feminism, it’s fucked up for everyone. So Yoga Ass, just 21, figures out that now that she has a job, and a car, paying rent to live with her mom isn’t worth it. She can easily get her own place in the city, be her own boss, and not have to deal with Mommy anymore.

But her mating strategy – not optimal. Hang out at a bar, text as many guys as she can, flirt with as many guys as she can, get attention, sex, and hopefully snag one of these guys to finally give her what she really wants – a kitchen to be barefoot and pregnant in. Frankly, I find it a noble goal; biologically optimal, not just acceptable, but commendable. But silly 21 year old girls brought up by idiot feminist divorced mothers just have a fucked up strategy.

She would go through six of us, likely not really enjoying all that much of it. I made it to number two, but was eventually beaten out by number one. He could provide more of what she wanted; a stable kitchen to cook in, a ready-made extended family to join, and the right mix of alpha fucks and beta bucks, the right mix of sexy and stability, that a near-criminal hiding out on the governor’s lawyer’s farm just couldn’t keep up long enough.

Yoga Ass: Dancer

Yoga Ass: Dancer

Well, I take her out to the other place, we do whatever, have a grand old time, and I start to “network” with her other beta orbiter, this Asian dude that owns a company and might have work. I make the mistake of leaving her alone for a while, while I’m snorting candy around the corner with Asian Beta Orbiter Networking Candidate, and when I do finally go back in the bar, all I see is her walking out with the fucking DJ – some short loser – get in his car and drive away. Fucking four hours of investment with nothing to show for it, at all. Fuck me. Ah well.

But the next day she texts me – of course I had given her my number early in the evening – and offers to buy me a beer. She enjoyed meeting me, blah blah, let’s go out on Friday. Sounds good to me. She was real cute, in all the good ways, and seemed like a nice girl, if a handful. Little Miss Fuck and Run had been gone for months, I think in Europe somewhere. I call Little Miss Fuck and Run “Runaway” when I’m feeling romantic. I called Yoga Ass “Dancer” when I’m feeling that way. So it was back and forth between Yoga Ass and Dancer with this girl. She ran hot, and cold. One minute she was heavily pursing me shamelessly, openly, without a trace of self-consciousness. The next minute she was freaking out, being as bitchy as possible, pushing me away, being comically hostile, then the next morning texting and calling apologizing and asking to go out again.

Women, they are fucking crazy. But holy shit, Yoga Ass had the greatest body I had felt naked in years. Dancer got me all riled up in all sorts of ways, sexually and emotionally. She was a thoroughbred.

So we meet up Friday, go out, have some fun, talk a lot, drink some beers, and go outside where she just looks me in the eye, reaches up and kisses me on the lips. That’s how the adventure started.

K FlayWe Hate Everyone

Wanted smoked turkey, instead they gave me roasted
Life would be easy if bitches just did what I told em
Bunch of rich kids, white shit up on their noses
Dickhead elected even though I freaking voted
No one RSVP’d to the party that I hosted
Swimming in a pool of negative emotions
Get too close, I’ll sue
Fuck you and your mom too

Little Miss Fuck and Run

Little Miss Fuck and Run

I hate beagles and sunshine
Losers and anime
Only thing I love in this world is a tragedy
Seven days straight, I’ll complain, right
Wanna see me satisfied, better hang tight
I got beef with the MTA, all my relatives are my enemies
Everybody blows regardless of what I do
There’s a hair in my Thai food

I hate my job, I hate my dog, I hate it all
I hate my friends, I hate my dad, it’s all their fault
Sometimes I even think that I might hate myself
I hate everyone and nobody can help
I, I hate everyone
I, I hate everyone
I, I hate everyone and nobody can help

Crowded in the subway, robbed out my pockets
OD’ed on vitamin C but obviously got sick
Housewives addicted to gossip
A dozen idiots rubbing tits in a mosh pit
Paid all my bills but the water’s still toxic
Only thing to do now is sit around and talk shit
Doing awesome, it’s all FUBAR
Fuck you and your cool car

Collared

Collared

I hate flowers and airplanes
Nice guys and good deeds
Only thing I love in this world is some good weed
Breathe in and out but I’m angry
My son does drugs, his teachers blame me
Boss won’t pay me, government’s faithless
Dislike things and I have no basis
Not sorry, how’s that?
Dead rat in my mousetrap

I don’t want to see beauty, I don’t want to see beauty

I hate my job, I hate my dog, I hate it all
I hate my friends, I hate my dad, it’s all their fault
Sometimes I even think that I might hate myself
I hate everyone and nobody can help
I, I hate everyone
I, I hate everyone
I, I hate everyone and nobody can help

Decked stacked against me, my heart filled with emptiness
I like it like when it’s getting worse

yoga-girl-by-night-prev

6 comments on “Heartbreakers VI

  1. Hipster Racist
    October 31, 2013

    Reblogged this on Hipster Racist.

  2. PushingOurLimits
    November 1, 2013

    OMG, I would love to write the other side of this!!

    She had fun playing the game, twisting the pieces and shifting them around the board. She enjoyed getting them close to winning, and then concentrating on a new piece.

    She would eventually let one of them win, but she would play until she had cleared the board.

  3. Pingback: Addicted to your words | Pushing our limits

  4. Pingback: The Life and Times of Hipster Racist | Hipster Racist

  5. Pingback: Heartbreakers VIII | Hipster Intelligence Agency

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