Top 10 Reasons I'll Never Have a Mistress
I've already explained how movies taught me to never do heroin or pick up hitchhikers or poop in public or pay for hookers. Now it's time to find out why my cinematic experiences have taught me to keep my dick in my pants, which are folded and tucked securely in the bottom drawer of the dresser in my bedroom. In my house. It's not like the ladies are lined up around the corner waiting for some Law-love, I'm just spelling it out for any desperate cougars out there that happen to be drunk enough one night and try to sit on my face. I'll smack a bitch
It doesn't matter if she looks like Jessica Alba, I can't stand stupid women (or men, or kids, or cats). Luckily for Sam Stone, Carol and Earl (above) are too dumb to properly blackmail him. Too bad it still comes back to bite him in the ass in the end. Never involve your mistress in the plan for killing your wife.
This is the type of luck I'd have. The day I decided to pound some strange on the way home from work there's some random asshole with a sniper rifle in a window on the way to her house. I finally get one other woman in the world to hump me and this guy wants to blow my boner off from 200 yards away.
I can guarantee I'd be a giant sweaty disappointment when it comes to adrenaline-pumping passion of secret sex. Say it's on my lunch break at work - not only will this poor woman get back to her work station and tell every cackling hen within earshot, she'd also punish my limp dick with a lawsuit and probably send a pack of punks to beat me up in the parking lot after the shift. I've put way too much thought into this shit.
Otto isn't officially an ex-boyfriend until a little later in the film, but you know what I'm saying. As if cheating on my wife isn't enough stress for one lifetime, now I got some goon stalking my every move. This wouldn't happen anyway, I have a strict 'virgins only' rule when it comes to my extramarital affairs.
This is the one that would immediately pop into my head the second some hottie decided to rub up on my dong. I'd finish in my pants, tell her I have no money, head-butt her, and run like hell. Giggling like a motherfucker.
I would hope it would be for different reasons than in the film above. See, Dr. Fleming is banging his son's fiance, and gets caught with his dick out. Literally. Not only does his son get to see the woman he loves getting boned by his dad seconds before he does a header down a stair-well, the last thing he gets to look at in his life is a full frontal nude view of his father, fully erect.
One day, somewhere down the road, I'd walk in on this situation. Hey, there's my wife. Hey, there's that random dirty I drilled in the bathroom of Burger King last November. Both of them..... on my couch. Hopefully it's not a far walk to my hidden shotgun. Hopefully my mouth still fits around the barrel.
Much worse than simply telling my wife for sure. I'd like to think my wife would put up a fight though, especially if it's a 16-year-old slut with a drug problem. Not that I'd ever go near a 16-year-old slut. Just sayin'.
And then I'd have to kill her. I still don't know exactly how the birds & the bees work so I'm scared to even look at hot women too long, let alone stick my prick in them and hope for the best. There aren't enough condoms or pills in the world to encourage me to have another child right now. Or ever.
If she's agreeing to sleep with me, the thirtysomething father of three who's married, bald, and writes for a movie website, then there's something wrong upstairs. This bitch would boil my pets WHILE we were having sex.
No matter what I did, how well I hid the evidence, how much I washed my whitey-tighties, lied my ass off, or how many witnesses I'd have to murder - my wife would find out. Because that's what I would deserve. Thankfully I never have to worry about any of this shit. I already got the best chick around. And I've only woke up to that scenario above twice in seven years. I'm doing something right.