A letter to the men who want to sleep with me

For a while, I enjoyed taking friends to furniture stores.
I loved looking at those large, sturdy double beds.
My friends said, "Are you desperate to get married?"
And it was probably true
. I also hoped there would be a strong arm under my pillow.

Another fact is—
a man's shoulder can't support a woman's romance.

Rich men only talk about their wealth;
rich men are generally too busy; rich men's
sex is like a dragonfly skimming the water; rich men
close their eyes and it's already dawn.

Handsome men can satisfy your senses;
handsome men will never think of you;
handsome men are surrounded by women like flies in summer;
handsome men can't satisfy your desires. Honest men

are always boring.
Always too reserved for formal occasions
, honest men are always eager to get you into bed when you're sleepy
, honest men always make you want to kick them out of bed

...

What's wrong with rich men?
What's wrong with handsome
men? What's wrong with honest men
? Nobody's perfect,
this isn't about finding fault with you.
Every woman being with every man
is either a misfortune or a blessing.

Men don't realize that
women all have this expectation,
whether she's a mistress, a lover, or a massage parlor girl,
she always hopes that
in the quiet of the night, she can curl up in the arms of her beloved man
and whisper her thoughts and dreams.

And every man hopes that every woman is naturally promiscuous,
hoping to use your hands, your tongue, your body to arouse their desire
. The human obsession with virginity stems from their inherent destructive nature.
You can go to the Middle East and see
the constant roar of gunfire.

Or let me tell you about my bed.
Many years ago, one night
, all that remains in my mind are fragments of eroticism.
It wasn't my bed; it was a vast wilderness,
a sky full of stars, fireflies everywhere—
I can't remember if there was a moon either.
When he withdrew from my body,
he lit a cigarette.
In the dim light of the lighter,
he wanted to see the marks on the grass
and my virgin appearance.
In that same dim light,
I saw only his disappointment.
In the love and passion that followed,
I felt cold and heartbroken.

I was a blank sheet of paper,
yet others believed words had already been written on it.

For many years… Later, I learned to surf the internet,
wasting my remaining youth there.

People online like to have one-night stands,
actually because men don't want to take responsibility.
Women are always too troublesome,
having to get their period for a few days every month.
The pleasure lasts only a few seconds,
and what remains might be pregnancy symptoms.

I often drive alone on the street, and a
traffic cop waves me and taps on the window—
"Miss, please put on a condom."
I shamelessly wink at him.
The cop is young, his face flushed—
"Excuse me, miss, please put on your seatbelt."

I wonder who invented this balloon-like thing.
I suggest awarding it a Nobel Prize.
But no woman wants her man
to be covered in shiny plastic

. Why do people have sex?
: It feels like picking your nose.
: Why can't you have sex during your period?
: Do you pick your nose when you have a nosebleed?
: Why don't men like to wear condoms?
: Have you ever seen someone pick their nose while wearing gloves?

Therefore,
it's almost certain that
happiness is for two,
and pain is for one.
Ma Fulong is for one,
the operating room is for one.

I never believed sleeping on a man's money could be so comfortable.
I never believed in a man's thirty-six moves and seventy-two techniques.
I never believed a man could have sex for hours on end
. I never believed a man could just change positions and do it again.

If you like a man,
take him to bed.
You say you want it,
and that's your paradise.

If you like a man,
take him to bed.
You say you want more, and
that's your hell
.

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A letter to the men who want to sleep with me

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