I'm really disappointed that you would lie about me (and every other woman in this thread) like that, Marijan, after I looked up Grimes on your recommendation; recommended books to you; and explained one thing that Mr. Horse did that won me over, besides, you know, just being incredibly kind.
Not one of my posts to this thread (and my aged memory may be failing here, but I don't think in my entire posting history) has discussed any sex I was having with Mr. Horse. You admitted that I did a nice thing in giving him directions on how to safely get out of an abusive situation while he was divorcing his heinously scary first wife, because abusers are the most dangerous when they know they're losing control of their target. I proved that I had empathy for a minimum of one man, and you turned right around and said I don't understand relationships and talk only about sex. What the fuck?
You don't want to admit that while being an avowed leftist (seriously, if you can find one person lefty-er than me on this board I will be deeply impressed), a feminist who exercises her right to vote, and all that terrible, inhuman shite, I've been in a relationship with the same man for more than five years (going on six in May) and have adored him for being the sweetest, gentlest man I have ever met in my life. Even in defense of his own life, he couldn't bring himself to hit his first wife while she was trying to stab him. He just pushed her away from him, and still feels guilty about that. He carries my bag, opens doors for me, and works incredibly hard to provide for us (I work too because I like it... oh my god, this femisphere I live in... and it's not administrative, either, nor did I get the job via affirmative action). He is exactly the kind of guy you think I could somehow have jailed for nothing because he's absurdly terrific. Instead, I am using my magic wimmins powers to be really fucking nice to him. He would confirm this if you ever met him face to face, but then he'd also terrify you because he's 6'2", musclebound, and looks like... HOLY SHIT, A TRUCKER, GET BACK IN THE CAR. Or a biker. Or something else that's not you.
You claim to have banged some girls who were cheating, so you perform a classic logical error and generalize this to all "Western" women. You would love to believe that I am entertaining, the last time you chose to insult me, 40 thugs a day. (Ali Baba and the 40 thugs? Wut?) I'm sorry, though. It's just not true. There aren't enough hours in the day, unless you simultaneously believe that all men share your epic premature ejaculation problem. Besides, I have Mr. Horse and that's enough to make any woman feel as though she has won the lottery of life. I would clone him and make major bank selling clones of a kind, respectful man if the technology present in today's world matched my ambition -- which is really a humanitarian one, because more of him would be an immense societal benefit. How many men can rock boxer-briefs non-ironically and look that good, I ask? How many, pray tell?
(I was going to say "Sex, my ass!" but something tells me Fuckbot would take that idiom way too literally, not even realizing that what he claims to have done would be severely uncomfortable for him too if he failed at lube as badly as he fails at debating.)
Mr. Horse fails at the fine art of rapistry but wins at life. You aspire to basically the reverse, but can't even make that come true, luckily for the women of Croatia.
Keep your filthy mouth off my relationship and descriptions of same unless it's to apologize for being defamatory when I tried to be nice and reasonable. That's what I get for trying to be helpful instead of coming in swinging the claidheamh-mòr. However, don't kill yourself. I come down on that side of the debate because you having to live out your life as you is a worse punishment than any I could devise. See: Arnold Judas Rimmer. /nerd cred