Tony

He’s much more hand­some in per­son, Tony is. What a bod. Talk about six-pack. Tony rules. Only his clos­est friends call him Tony. Like Mooch and Nicky the Tongue.

Nicky the Tongue used to be sweet on me before Tony took an inter­est. Now I can only see Tony exclu­sively, and Nicky the Tongue keeps his dis­tance. Look at this pic­ture of him. He posed for it last time he came. Thinks I have tal­ent. Said I really caught him. He looks mean but cool, eh? Like a hockey player. And he used to play Junior “B” Hockey, but hurt his foot, the nor­mal one. The other one has some­thing called a cleft. I don’t know any­thing about that sort of stuff. He won’t let me look at either foot and that’s fine by me. I was never into feet. Guys have ugly feet if you ask me. What a turnoff. But back to Tony. Okay, so he’s mean, I am not going to say he’s not. Call a spade a spade. He can get rough if I push his but­tons. Oh yeah. I know, I know. Don’t stay in that abu­sive rela­tion­ship, girl. Get out of there. But it isn’t that sim­ple, ask any­one who’s been there. And Tony has a real sweet side. Honestly. He can be a big Teddy bear some­times. Just a big old huggy bear. Especially after we make love. He likes it rough when we make love, sure, puts me through the wringer, I’ll say, but after­wards he’s cud­dly and all soft-like. I just love him to pieces at those times. I don’t care what y’all say. I know what I’m in for, I know. But let me say this: I’m not into wimps. I hate lit­tle bitch men who I can push around. Just slap them around, you know. Like go to a fancy restau­rant and order the lob­ster, then send it back and then not eat it at all, and then order the chateaubriand for two even though buddy just pol­ished off a porter­house steak. If I did that to Tony he’d fix my wagon. Not that he ever takes me out. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like he’s embar­rassed by me. But I can’t let that bother me. My mama once said that all men are devils.