My Ding-a-Ling

I think I have a penis. A ginormous pink penis. He has nice round balls. Balls that you can't resist getting handsy with. His name is Brent and he is the most likely culprit for my failed relationships.

Brent has no patience for straight dude shenanigans. He makes me say things I swear I never would on my own. He is a bit of a drama queen and does not like to be ignored. He likes things his way. Brent initiates power struggles. It's not me it's my penis.

This excuse never seems to fly.

Brent causes confusion. He enjoys boobies so occasionally visits an establishment where the staff prefer to not cover theirs. Sometimes our date thinks this means we are open to adding a guest star to that evenings performance. Not so. Brent gets freaked out by the Bat Cave. Boobies cute, rest of it.... Brent just. CAN'T eww its too awful. Honey get Brent a mojito, will you?

Brent gives me terrible advice sometimes. I can appreciate what he says about fashion, home decor and how to land a man, its once we have the man that our opinions differ. My first instinct is to be feminine but not too much and to be cool. Brent grabs people's junk and well, acts like the power top he is.

I try to only to to HomeSense when Brent is napping. He came with me on a girls night to the dinner theatre and we were all politely asked to leave. Brent was over excited and they just kept bringing him wine. Totally their fault.

Brent is responsible for most of my impulse purchases and random acts of ass grabbing. Not me NO. All Brent.

Brent likes surprises. More accurately he likes to surprise people. Sometimes the surprises are well received. Like the orchids he picked out for Mom's birthday one year. They were a good surprise.

Others well,  just ask the guy Brent violated  surprised with glittery mauve anal beads. That vibrated.

 Brent, in papier mache