Tuesday, March 27, 2018

COOT NURTURE

My conversations with real or imaginary people are, thanks to this blog, available for everyone to enjoy. Except for discussions with Akane Tendo and Fuuka Ayase; those remain private. Never happened.
Like the president, I deny everything.


Underneath Dating a Cigar Smoker, reader Whilst commented: "Sex with a cigar smoker must be surreal. Especially if she drinks during.".
I would imagine so, but I can not imagine.
Never dated a cigar smoker.


Underneath Round Two, Tentacled Alien inquired: "You don't seem to like many people. Aspergers? Or just plain old misanthropy?"
To which I responded "Neither. I'm a bitter miserable old coot."


And an anonymous person, who may very well NOT be Akane Tendo NOR Fuuka Ayase left the cryptic remark "Roast Goose? Take me!" after reading Roast Goose in Sham Tseng.

Take you where?


More importantly, who are you? Tell me more about yourself. Are you sympathetic to miserable old coots? Are you, in fact, of a suitable gender and age to take out for roast goose? These are important details, the complete absence of which precludes mutual roast goosing.

In an effort to understand part of what 'dating a cigar smoker' would be like, I had two robustos today. The first was a Diamond Crown Maximus, the second was a Padron 1926. Very enjoyable, yes, but I am no further to grasping the paradigm. I've shaved and showered since then, and while I do know several women who smoke cigars, no. They are unsuitable.
Not ladies I would enjoy taking out for succulent meats.
Five out of six are nice people, though.

Women should smoke pipes.
It's more civilized.
Smells better.


One should not kiss a cigar smoker.


In a short while I shall head over to Chinatown to enjoy bitter melon and something, over rice. The restaurant has counter seating for single diners, and I've always had a good time people watching there.
Afterwards I'll smoke my pipe in an alleyway.

Probably while observing the rats.




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