I ordered some wine.
And the reason I ordered some wine is because I wanted some wine.
Now let us review that simple statement.
“And the reason I ordered some wine is because I wanted some wine.”
“I ordered some wine because I wanted somebody else to have my wine.”
“I ordered some wine because I wanted to SHARE my wine.”
“I ordered some wine so I could go and share it with the masses and we all sing kumbya while talking about how dreamy Obama is.”
I wanted some wine for me, because I wanted some freaking wine.
But sure as bears and popes, the girl slowly reaches across the table, going for my glass of wine.
Not even asking.
Not even requesting permission.
Just sloooooowly moving her hand across the table, making a bee line towards MY wine.
I waited patiently for her hand to make contact with it, but once it did I said,
“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa! Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Almost with a shocked look on her face she said, “I was just going to have a sip of your wine.”
Now let me explain something to ladies out there. You see, I ordered MY wine because I wanted some wine for ME. When men buy themselves something, they intended it for them. Not for you. Not to be shared. Not to make us have warm fuzzies in our stomachs as we all capitulate to Marxism and spread the wealth. It’s for us! Not you.
So I explained the concept of how I forfeited some of my finite life in exchange for the money to buy this wine for ME. That I gave up a part of my life in the form of labor to earn the money that bought me this wine and ergo, I was 100% entitled to all of it. Every single drop. I went so far as even to offer to buy her, her own glass of wine if she wanted one. But then she dropped the Ultra-Marxist bomb on me;
“But I want to taste yours.”
You see, this is why women deep down inside are communists. They don’t want to pay to taste some wine. They don’t want to even have their entire whole glass of wine. No, they want a “little sip” of YOUR wine.
So I asked said girl,
“Said Girl, why is it you want a sip of MY wine when I am more than willing to buy you your own glass of wine?”
And the Leninist across the table from me responded,
“Because I just want a sip. Besides it tastes better when it’s somebody else’s.”
This confirmed something I knew all along. Communists derive an additional utility from the same volume of consumption if what they’re consuming is somebody else’s. It’s a sick and twisted masochistic aspect of the weaker political ideology.
I was always intuitively aware of this as the same thing happened with fries. Lord knows you couldn’t just sit there on a date in high school, about to engorged yourself with those heavenly McDonald’s fries, and then, sure as bears and popes some your 16 year old steady is burrowing into YOUR fries like a badger in a hole. But now I had proof, a confession, self-admitted guilt she was gunning for my wine because it was MY wine.
And don’t think for a second this is just relegated to fries or wine. Oh no no no no! Ice cream. My god, has any man in the history of America been able to enjoy 100% of his own, labor-bought-and-paid-for ice cream? Can’t get one bite before “she” wants to “try” some of “your” ice cream.
Any pie left in the fridge? Go ahead and try to have a full piece of pie. Oh no, you can’t. Not in a million years. Even though there is a whole 3/4ths of a pie in the fridge and she could very well have her own entire piece of pie to herself, no, she wants “just a little bite” of yours.
And don’t think it’s just relegated to food. Ha! If you had a favorite shirt she likes, yeah, well pal, you HAD a favorite shirt. Now it’s a communal shirt. That nice little sporty convertible you have out there. If it’s 85 and sunny, she’s going to want a little taste of that. Nothing is safe from their Marxist reach.
Of course, try to then share something that was intended to be shared and she wants none of it. Video games are the perfect example. Designed to bring the masses together, designed to make us all players, designed to increase camaraderie and bonding and bring us all closer together, arguably the key to world peace, but oh no, she wants none of that. No, it has to be something that she covets. Your ice cream. Your wine. Your martini. Your convertible. Your favorite old ratty sweatshirt from college.
Oh, and you may be laughing now, but they’re out there men. And it all starts with just a “little sip” of your much-coveted wine.