The guys who keep answering your ad just happen to be your type, which is to say, guys who are in the market for a used motorcycle. Rough guys. Guys who are so far from settled down that they’re considering buying a cheap way to get out of town on nothing but a couple wheels and some handlebars. How are you supposed to walk around your motorcycle with a guy like that and not invite him to feel how the seat fits two with room to spare? But as soon as the sex is over you tell them you’ve decided not to sell and you send them on their way.
“Maybe you’re not trying to sell the motorcycle,” the precocious little kid who hangs out with you while you tend to your rose bushes says. “Maybe you’re looking for a man to share that seat with you?”
“Then why’d I post my ad in the for sale section of Craigslist?” you ask.
The precocious little kid says, “You’re scared to admit you need somebody.”
You tell the precocious little kid not to tell you what you’re scared of. The precocious little kid reminds you that he’s smarter than adults and you ask him if he’s smarter than a pair of garden shears. You throw the shears at him. He tries to duck out of the way but catches a blade in the thigh.
He doesn’t die, but the story about how a grown woman stabbed a little kid for giving her relationship advice makes big headlines. “How are we supposed to protect our kids from the single women who don’t want help with their love lives?” moms will demand to know. You’ll be tried in the media long before you make it to court, and you’ll be thrown in jail for three years, a merciful sentence, according to your lawyer. All because you keep having sex on the seat of the motorcycle you’re trying to sell.
Happy You Keep Having Sex On The Seat Of The Motorcycle You’re Trying To Sell Day!
