There was a shitstorm recently from offended female lawyers about my post on judging a woman’s femininity, sexual adventurism and relationship-worthiness based on her job. I was tough on a number of different kinds of careerist chicks, but it was the lawyers who took the most umbrage and came out swinging their clitdicks with a vengeance, thereby proving my point in the most satisfactory way possible.
I’ve relied on my experience dating lawyers to bring my readers valuable first-hand knowledge of their inherent afeminine bitterbitch blackened souls of ballcuttery. Truly, female lawyers (with one, OK, maybe two, exceptions) are a special breed of succubus you will not feel the slightest bit of guilt dumping a violent fuck into and leaving before the cum has crusted up on her face.
Sometimes, though, one man’s experiences aren’t enough to convince men thinking about dating a lawyer. So we have stories like this to hammer home the message.
Elana and David Glatt have filed a $400,000 suit against an Upper East Side florist, charging it caused them “extreme disappointment, distress and embarrassment” on what was supposed to be the greatest day of their lives by providing the wrong-colored hydrangeas for their Aug. 11 nuptials.
“After spending nearly $30,000 and over 12 months planning the flowers for their wedding, the flowers were not even close to what plaintiffs had bargained and paid for,” the Glatts charge.
“They sent us 200, 250 e-mails changing things up until the last minute. We did everything they wanted,” [the florist] said.
The suit says that was a disastrous difference, because “colors had been specifically chosen to match the tones of the room.”
As self-parody goes, this is high art.
Leaving aside the legal issues here and the exhorbitant damages she’s seeking, just try to imagine what it would be like to pledge your lifelong devotion to a woman who would spend $30K on wedding flowers and email the florist over 200 times with updated requests for getting the arrangements just right. Is there any man alive who, if he were in the groom’s shoes, wouldn’t feel like an afterthought at a wedding like that? A woman who is more in love with the wedding ceremony than with the man she is marrying = classic American cunt.
I can just picture what their marriage is going to be like:
“You got the regular 3-ply? I TOLD you to get the strawberry scented 6-ply toilet paper! WHY can’t you do anything right?? Only the little people get chafed assholes!!!”
Here is a photo of the hell cat:
i win cases with my adam’s apple!
Look closely. Notice the alpha male glare in her eyes, the kind of aggressive glee you normally see on the face of a used car salesman who’s just suckered you into forking over full price for a lemon. Her clenched jaw which says she is ready to do battle, anywhere, anytime. The severe, triple-lacquered hairstyle with not one stray strand daring to spring out of line suggesting in her a tendency to view the sex act as either a necessary annoyance on the way to getting what she wants or a stress reliever before a big day at the office crushing testicles. And is that a power suit with shoulder pads?
In short, nothing about this woman hints at anything feminine. She sold her yin to the devil for a gift registry of wealth and taste. Her sense of entitlement is so bloated no man could possibly keep his dignity and satisfy her at the same time. And she doesn’t even have the saving grace of being hot. Which brings us to the husband. What kind of man marries a woman like this? The answer is in the photo:
no, really, we’re in love.
Merry douchemas! This guy looks like he’s already pre-emptively cheating on her and high-fiving his buddies about it over beers at Scores. I’m wishing with my mind that he’ll do to his wife what Chad did to that deaf girl in the movie “In the Company of Men” and then excuse himself from humanity and get run over by a bus.
What we have in this case study is the epitome of everything that is wrong with 21st century American womanhood. Luckily, all indicators are that these simulacra of women are having fewer kids than their more nurturing and traditional sisters, so I expect the wave of fembots currently clawing their way through the corporate machine to eventually dwindle to irrelevant numbers.
As much as you desperately want to believe your hard work and ivy league credentials matters to your mating prospects, ladies, men don’t give a shit what you do for a living. In fact, as this story illustrates, your high-powered career will make you less of a catch, not more. Men compete with other men all day long; the last thing they want is to come home and lock horns with ballbusting women. And lawyers, being the generic parasites they are, are the worst of the worst.
On a related subject, I’d like any readers to find studies, if they exist, on number of children per woman by occupation. I’d bet good money that lawyers are less fecund than elementary school teachers.