Hey, if I want to discuss the S&P 500, I'll call my broker. Young girls don't talk. They laugh. They live. They're in the moment. And every night is THE night. And their bodies are hard and tight and smooth--the way skin is supposed to be...We're all brow-beaten by youth-obsessed old bitches fresh from their chemical peels that expect us to open their doors and pay their way. Yes, I love young women. At least I'm honest enough to say so.
That reminded me of the time I was telling my buddy that I had a date with an 18-year-old. His first question was, "What do you talk about with her?" I thought for a moment, and then replied that I talk to her about the same things I'd talk to her 40-year-old mom about. Specifically, I’d ask her about where she was going to college, what her major would be, what she wanted to be when she grew-up, etc. Women with college-bound or college-age daughters end-up spending a considerable amount of time during our date talking about researching colleges, selecting colleges, completing the application, picking a major, etc. However, I find it much more interesting to talk to a hot coed directly about those subjects than to simply be listening to the mother [Insert yawn here.] of that coed tell me about her daughter. It's the difference between talking to an actress about her movie versus talking to a movie critic about the same film.
Moreover, whether they live at home or on their own, I find young women grateful and have a more positive attitude about life. I can take a coed to Outback, spend $50 on dinner, spend $25 on a bottle of wine, and afterwards she'll tell me how great the steak and wine was. In contrast, too many women my age have a sense of entitlement and don't act appreciative. If I mention that I'm craving a steak, their first thought is dinner at Mastro's where I'd be spending $100 on their meal and sides alone. Plus, they'll be disappointed if I pick anything less that a $125 bottle of Caymus. (This is the same girl who probably doesn't spend more than $10 on a glass of wine when she's out with her friends or paying for her own wine.) Best of all, when we go to my house, the 20-year-olds don't remark that all single men have a black leather couch. Of course we do, it's so the women that wear too much make-up don't get their "mascary," I mean, mascara, on my cream-colored couch that is in the living room.
