"But that's so 80s. 1880s."

“Precise words aren’t eloquent, eloquent words are not precise.” This is the dilemma; which should I choose?

Some guys just aren't into your opinion- your participation is welcome but they act as though your presence isn’t strictly necessary, and your own personal pleasure?
Forget about it.
He comes from the old school of thought, where his partners' pleasure is null and void; inconsequential although not something to begrudge her should she ever teeter beyond the precipice so well documented in Jackie Collins’ novels. As ‘twere.
They’re the ones you can nudge, hint, physically point in the right direction or even actually tell them to pack it the fuck in and he still doesn't get the point, change his stride.
God forbid he should lose his focus- he might forget to hold your head in place to ‘help’.
“Look,” I said, “I know what I’m doing, trust me. Now take your hands off the back of my head or I swear next time I’ll bite you.”

To be more precise, this guy doesn't care about you and he doesn’t try to pretend otherwise at any point beyond the pick-up. It's very selfish, it's the height of self-absorbity, and it really, really kills all the fun- to the extent that it drives a stake through its heart, burns it and scatters the remains at a crossroads; it thoroughly ascertains that any chance of a revival is out of the question.
While I’m usually all for putting your needs before those of others, I just don’t approve in this case- if I've brought a gentleman caller home then I'm going to ensure that he enjoys himself, but I want to be in on the fun too, and I have a few requests of my own.
Call me selfish, but I like to think that he's there because he's into me in some way, not because I just happen to be the right size or shape to fit into his personal little ritual. I want to feel sparks, a little chemistry, like he wants me.
I certainly have no desire to be treated like a blow up doll and manhandled. I do not want to be made to feel like an interchangeable character in someone else's script- I want to be able to collaborate and god forbid improvise even just a teensy bit; I never thought variety could ever be seen as a big bad till this.



So! To summarise; my dear almost stranger if I do agree to sleep with you, treat me like a person and not a personal toy for you to get your mucky adult kicks from, as such outlandish behaviour will result in me kicking you out half way through.
Rude? You bet.
Time and experience will not change this.
Nor, surprisingly enough, will yelling derogatory names as you stomp off down the stairs; because really honey, I couldn’t care less if you’ve never been kicked out by a pissed off, far from satisfied female before. All I was thinking as I waved you off?
What a fucking waste of an evening. Oh, and also, try not to wake the neighbours on your way out.

I promise treating girlkind nicely won’t result in them stalking you, begging for future sexual favours- if that’s what was worrying you, baby.
And one last tip- go get that back waxed; let’s minimize the amount of unpleasant suprises for future girls, shall we?

It’s what the sisterhood’s all about, after all.