A Craigslist User Spent 1,500 Words Looking For Some ‘Real, Happy T*ts’

08.11.15 3 years ago
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When a Craigslist Casual Encounter begins, “Maybe this is asking too much, but…” it’s probably too much. Especially when that “but” is followed by, “I’m looking for inspiration and was wondering if there are any women out there who would be willing to share some of their goddess-energy with me, to put some spark in my day: I would really like to see your tits.”

Three weeks ago, Asheville, North Carolina’s biggest (and bounciest?) admirer of women, or at least their bosoms, published a lengthy personal ad on Craigslist in a desperate attempt to see some boobs. Not just any boobs, mind you, but “real, happy tits,” not “some porn-industry, air-brushed, media-approved, silicone-infected, professional skin-jockey.” He goes on:

Are you really going to let the failed moral standards of a repressive, patriarchal, Puritanical society stop you from showing me your t*ts? Think of the poor, sad Puritan pilgrim-woman, with her t*ts all bound up and hidden away. Are you going to let them get away with that?! No, you’re not! You’re going to laugh and smile and shake your t*ts in the face of The Man. (I would happily represent that Man if you had any symbolic civil disobedience planned. Let me know if I can help out.) You’re going to send me a picture of your happy, bouncy tits.

The world needs your t*t-energy!

And you’re not going to listen to the sour-faced, self-appointed “feminists” who want to spread their toxic life-hatred (‘Our women are being manipulated and objectified as mere sex-objects…” Piss off, bitch! Keep your twisted, frigid analysis to yourself.) F*ck ’em! F*ck the bitter haters! They’re your t*ts! Your body! Your power! T*t power!

Why is this guy wasting his best material on Craigslist, when surely women’s colleges the world over would love to have him as a professor? “T*ts 101” at Barnard could be a huge hit, until Professor 2 Much 2 Ask starts talking about needing “some of that serious t*t-mojo,” at which point he’d run out of Manhattan with pitchforks and torches. Here’s who he’s looking for:

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