I am not sure if he is into giving them golden showers.
I just tried to help out the young fellow. I’m sitting here in total retirement bliss when Rifle practically begs me to call on my wisdom and years of experience to help resurrect his ruined life. I reluctantly agreed.
He readily admitted that he was clueless in the areas of home repair and maintenance, and moaned about the endless nights of meaningless, loveless blow jobs. The guy was a wreck.
I advised that he move his latest squeeze into one of his multimillion dollar properties. I thought it was the perfect solution.
While Rifle was out earning millions, the young lady could be sitting at home watching home improvement shows and spending his money on junk from QVC.
She could learn how to install shower heads, turn up the temperature on the water heater, and remove those distracting swirl marks on the stainless steel appliances.
As the years would go by and Rifle would become more mature, and his lady a little more plump, his fear of intimacy would lessen and the blessed couple could settle into the three times a week relationship schedule.
Did Rifle thank me for all my effort? Nooooo. He didn’t even invite me to Utah to bike across the desert. He dashed my dream of us standing on the edge of the Great Salt Lake with our bikes held triumphantly above our heads.
All I got for trying to be a friend and advisor was to have my advice rejected, my non paid relationship counselor position terminated, and my beloved half dead cat insulted. I was so crushed I had to look up my therapist for an appointment only to find she had died fifteen years ago.
So the rest of you posters are on notice. Have a problem? Screw you; don’t ask me for help because I have learned my lesson.
