Is it just me, or are serial killers kinda sexy? A girl wants a man who knows his mind and isn’t afraid to act on it, right?

Kidding!

No woman wants to drive to the park with a bucket of KFC, meet a heat missile like the guy in the photo above, get herself all amped up and hornery, just to have him club her over the head, drag her into the woods and leave her there for some hunter to find five years later. (Besides, I’ve made love conscious and unconscious and conscious is almost always better.) 

Problem is, there’s a very fine line between super hot bad guy and super hot psycho.

I’m cool with super hot bad guys… most are just assholes to other guys. And for the record, a “bad guy” who beats a woman isn’t a bad guy, he’s a twisted piece of shit and I’ll make his ass fertilizer if I find out.

But the real bad guys out there, motor oil in their hair, tattoos all over the place, like to smoke weed, drink Bud, shoot pool, and beat the snot out of each other for fun… Those are just guys. It’s the suits I never knew about.  

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Lawrence. It happens to most men, eventually.” 

Never happened with bad guys.

And I’m also cool with bad guys because I’m bigger than most of them and if they get out of hand, I know that special place to touch a man that’ll deflate his intentions. Don’t ask. It’s a secret I’ll never tell because the move requires a certain level of finesse, experience, and horsepower. (My lawyer says I can’t tell you how to do it.) So, word to the wise, ladies: if you don’t know the move, avoid serial killers altogether.

But if you’re simply too bored, play it like I do with Lester. Flirt, but keep a gun at his belly the whole time. 

I can hear Erich in my mind saying, “But why bother flirting with a man, if you know you’re never gonna bed him?”

Most of you gals who’ve been around the block a couple times already know this, so gimme a minute while I wo-splain it to Erich… 🙂

IT’S A FANTASY!

Lester inspired me to write a haiku. Maybe it’ll help you understand.

What girl doesn’t want to get swept off her feet and stuck right now? And since serial killers are verboten, that leaves bad guys.

(My pretentious word folder came through bigtime, huh! That was even French!)

There’s something unpredictable about a bad guy that means a gal has to be on the edge all the time. Has to keep her mind alert, guessing, watching, second-guessing. She also gets to gossip, hide her feelings, and stalk him. He makes her crazy-jealous because she knows every other woman who’s throwing herself at him, and which ones he’s catching.

The bottom line, bad guys bring out all our best qualities.

Plus — proven fact — they’re better in bed.

You want the proof? I tested it myself:

Long ago when I was passing through Colorado, two men in a bar took turns making passes at me because they didn’t know I was a sure thing. I had a theory I wanted to try out so I told the big guy that the little one said he got caught helping sheep through the fence. Fightin’ words in Colorado. Big guy got up in the little guy’s face, then shoved him into the pool table. Little guy grabbed the eight ball and big guy lost most of his teeth and they had to wire his mouth shut.

Of course I let the little guy stick me, and let me say, his enthusiasm made up for his… short…. comings…

Did I just now go too far? 🙂 

Later I visited the big fella in the hospital and he didn’t screw worth a pickled pig fart.  

So long story short, I like Lester because he inspires me to write poetry.

My official take on bad guys and serial killers is this:

1.     Men who beat women are pieces of shit. Our society ought to execute more of them. Just speaking my mind.

2.     Real bad guys are only assholes to each other, and that makes them good in bed. Clinically proven, (cuz when I’m in bed, baby, I’m runnin’ a clinic.)

3.     Serial killers are bad news. Best to avoid.

Glad I could help!

Oh! By the way… the hottie in the photo above is Ted Bundy. Us women can almost always tell which suit won’t be able to get it up, but we’re nearly blind in guessing which chunk of man meat is going to turn out to be another Ted. That’s why I’m starting a boob holster company for Plusses, and why I always pack heat.