The Psychic and the Psycho – A Match Made in Heaven? – by Smash

The Psychic and the Psycho – A Match Made in Heaven? – by Smash

Pretty soon, however, she will upgrade her armoury and rather than a simple one-off misdemeanour you will soon be helplessly drowning in an ocean of bile-fuelled ranting, wondering where it all went wrong whilst you fruitlessly attempt to deflect barb after barb of psycho-fuelled irreverence:

Her: I cannot BELIEVE you turned up to dinner with my parents wearing jeans, a t-shirt and those ratty old boots of yours!

You: But you said it was just an informal dinn…

Her: You should have KNOWN I wanted my parents to be impressed by you. You should have KNOWN that this was really important to me!

You: But you said they were really easy-going, that it didn’t matter what they thought of…

Her: You should have KNOWN I wanted this to be special! And how COULD you accept a second helping of dessert when it was OBVIOUS I was tired and you just sat there stuffing your face with sticky toffee pudding!!?

You: Salted Caramel actually.

Her: I don’t fucking CARE. You should have KNOWN I was ready to leave and you just SAT there making conversation about stupid things like cars, football and whether or not world peace will ever be achieved by banning religion and just getting pissed every Sunday instead.

You: Well, you know what? I washed my fucking bollocks this morning and gave my knob its annual de-cheesing ceremony so YOU should have KNOWN that I wanted a blow-job!

Her (stunned for a nanosecond): Oh FUCK you! This is SO over!

And there you have it. Of course, how patient you are, how desperate to hang on to this bird because you just got lucky this time and will be reduced to a lifetime of using and washing and re-using that wank sock is down to the circumstances of the individual.  But whether or not you stick around – and examples of the conversations above are just the tip of the iceberg, be prepared for multiple iterations on an hourly basis, in person, by email and text etc. – you will come to realise that from that first vinegar stroke to the very final one, you have a lot to learn if you ever hope to smash that back end, let alone stab that sausage through the more traditional ingress point with any kind of regularity.

You really SHOULD have known.

Well, now you do.


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