“Plenty fish in the sea!” -intuitively basic bitches

“You see, my sexy man-bitches-for-the-night: when I finally do find Mr. Right, he won’t judge me like all you shallow losers who just want to face-fuck me in the bathroom because I’m hot and young. He will treasure me, and measure me by my heart — or at least by the same standards that me and my bitch frenemies use to measure each other…which are none LOL!,” Sassy confided loudly to the three sailors pressed up against her, puking a little in her own mouth as she finished literally spelling out, to them, the individual letters L, O, and L.

The buzz of the industrial-strength clit-vibrator tucked into her underwear distracted her for a moment from her game of hard-to-get. She desperately hoped the guys would persist — so she could feel chased and empowered when she took them up on their offer to blow-bang her in the bar bathroom, which they promised to livestream on a really popular web channel. “This might be my big break!,” she thought to herself intuitively.

A heavy mix of cigarettes, puke, and piss hung over everyone and everything, as the room echoed with a half-dozen droopy, drunk divas, and a few MGTOW eunuchs, intuitively squalling along to lyrics from pop-princess Cunty McSlutbucket’s newest club banger, Girl Power Fuckfest: “Hate-fist me ’til I love you, or you’re just a boy-toy, boy-toy, boy-toy; don’t even try to use yo little dick — gotta climb in my pussy, and do a backflip, or you’re a fucking loser, cuz I won’t feel shit!”

Just then, some attractive, young girls entered the bar — and so the social worth of Sassy and the rest of the 30-something-year-old ‘cougars’ dropped to exactly zero.

“Whatever, you fucking losers!,” Sassy chattered as her former prey scattered. She flipped off them all with one hand, using her other aged, veiny hand to adjust the bottle of morning-after pills which she kept tucked alongside the stretch-marked flapjacks that hung loose in her push-up bra.

The loser guys in the bar all regrouped throughout the room, to figure a plan for impressing the girls who were worth earning.

“Whatever, you little dick faggots!,” Sassy yelled intuitively, spinning around to check if even one guy was still interested — even a fat guy or an old guy.

No one.

“Whatever, losers! Like Dr. Phil says: there’s plenty fish in the sea!”

“Yeah!,” intuitively agreed the rest of the scarred-up has-beens, in unison.

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