News of the Meatball Shop delivering will leave many Williamsburg “men” salivating over the food possibilities. However, if you’re a privileged enough soul to live within close proximity to the Meatball Shop (this constitutes anywhere from Bedford to Kent–whether on the north or south side), there’s very little excuse for you to indulge in using the latest model iPhone to dial the number of the hallowed establishment and ask for delivery. Unless of course, the void where your dick should be feels so immense when you actually get up off your ass that you just can’t bear to walk for long stretches.
You have to work to deserve this taste. It shouldn’t just get handed to you.
The Bucket o’ Balls, among other savory fare on the menu at Meatball Shop, is perhaps the most telling item a “man” can order for delivery, as it usually infers he desperately wishes he had some balls of his own. When you show disrespect to the Meatball Shop by forcing it to come to you instead of you displaying reverence by going to it, you’re also showing that you’s missin’ a dick.
I understand that it’s all very modern/creates the illusion of gender equality when women pay for their own shit. Even though women, on average, make 77 cents for every dollar a man makes, I guess it allows some “men” to feel better when they know they’re causing their piece of the moment to become slightly poorer. It’s empowering to fuck up someone’s bank account, after all, as money is the true source of all clout.
The stingy “man”
Sure, a “man” has no issue with paying for sexual services like lap dances or prostitutes, but when it comes to taking the time to put actual thought into buying something for a non-objectified woman, the concept seems almost grotesque. It’s not as though women expect something lavish, but they do expect something with sentiment behind it. However, being that many “men” are absent from their body for the most part, I suppose they forget that they have a tendency to come off as sociopaths.
And bear in mind there’s a difference between the obsequious “man” who pays for everything to the point of being sniveling versus the man who offers up his financial prowess in unexpected, yet generous doses. What’s worse is that the”man” with a stingy heart, who saves money for whatever delusional plans he may have for the future (probably to include escaping his wife or mother), is likely to be just as stingy in the boudoir, keeping track of even the faintest sexual courtesy. So bear this (and how your dick size is being perceived) in mind the next time you consider not picking up the check. Yes, I know it’s very expensive to go out in Williamsburg, but, fuck, you’re the one that chose to live there. Take her to Vanessa’s or The Meatball Shop or something and call it romance.