Rafael has a new baby girl, yet another in a long, looong string of baby girls. She's soft and sweet and nice and very, very young. She thinks he's wonderful. She's trusting and innocent and guileless and only uses the pads of her paws, never her claws.
She would never threaten, challenge, or fight back. She would never leave. After all, leaving would hurt him! And she would never do that.
No wonder men love this kind of woman! What an ego boost! What safety!
I can only assume this is why he extracted his dick from me a number of months ago. Even the best of us cannot be in two places at once.
I have been wondering, however, with wounded pride, how in the world anyone could possibly lose interest in me. Me! The Mistress of All Things Interesting! Go ahead, fuck whomever you want, but to suggest that I have bored you, oh, that is an unforgivable offence.
And yet today I felt persistent evidence rising to the occasion that said I had not bored him at all, at least, not today.
- Baby girls are sweet and nice and harmless. I would much rather be with Nicole Kidman than with Katie Holmes. I, on the other hand, am a woman, and, having no penis, have to think with my brain.
- I don't understand fickleness. It doesn't exist in my world. I love like a decorator crab. Sure, there's progressively more decorations on the shell, but once they're on there, they're on there.
- Who is it who loves a child? A grown-up tired of dealing with grown-ups? Or another child?