But how queens are. Among those stories together for everyone ... but not for everyone.
At a certain point freak, one needs to have friends like that. Like you. Why? To survive. To know you're not alone. To share lessons learned, sometimes at base of Ostia, and make ridiculous stories. To laugh at life, work, men and even your own shadow ... why not?
And we like challenges. Which translated into the real world comes to be something like the guys that put us are those that can potentially screw us life. And fuck us, yes sir. But what can we do? Each one is like. Also be that like docile and affectionate. typical "yes-dear-what-you-say-of-all-the-life" . I say.
But not me. Not even to try. If there is no struggle, no victory. And if there is no victory, no excitement. And if there is emotion, not interest me.
know. The Art of War applied to personal relationships is no longer carried. Now they are selling the Cosmopolitan mature relationships, egalitarian in which he helps at home and you always get to orgasm in a night of rose petals and endless caresses ... Well look no! To me what I like mud. The game. The tug of war. Guarrete kinky sex and that that when you come to mind a memory, a chill goes through you whole body.
I want equality. But not that soft and pastel. I forged equal respect, not laxity.
Being a woman is not easy. It hurts. The vast majority of women have forged bipolar behavior in castrate and ancient social behaviors and a new wave of exaggerated independence movement.
And not much, nor as bald, ladies. I like women today, I feel closer the figure of the man of yesterday. Independent, sexually active, socially uninhibited, potentially dangerous ... But even bothers me to admit it, I have an alter ego pavisoso that makes me want to save the world and more specifically the man who yesterday fell into my femme fatale networks. As I tell you.
hormones shit!
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