7-10 beavers

Found online, kind of a mockery of /r/niceguy. Author unk.

Women on here need to stop being 7-10 beavers in a trench coat

Look, we’ve talked red flags to death. Consent? Did it. Predatory doms? Addressed it. That one person who keeps fucking produce? Covered.

But the thing nobody on this site seems to have the balls to call out, so I guess I alone must, is women right at the end of the date laughing, opening their trenchcoat, turning into a mass of 7 to 10 beavers.

This shit is BULLSHIT ladies. And it’s not just me, many, many men on this site have found themselves in this situation and the Kink Community has been DEAD SILENT on it, except for the curious sound of gnawing and splashing.

Let me give you a few examples:

The first time it caught me by surprise- I was out on a date with a lovely young brunette. She didn’t talk a lot, and what she said was very rote, as though it was typed into a vocalization program on a cell phone.

I didn’t understand a lot, but I did understand the words “Home Depot” so we stopped for lunch at the hot dog cart, and then ordered 2000 dollars worth of lumber she really seemed to like. We loaded that into the truck of a daylaborer, who left with it for parts unknown then BOOM, that same old story we’ve all heard a million times at this point- she laughed, turned in 7-10 beavers and broke off for parts unknown.

Never even called me back.

The second time I was more prepared for it- I’d met what I ASSUMED to be a gorgeous redhead. I took her to a fancy French restaurant, Where I was mildly concerned when she ordered 20 salads and bit the waiter.

l ignored the red flags of course, chatting her up as she ate the wine corks one by one-then, right in the middle of dinner (as the Baked Alaska SHE ORDERED arrived,) of course there’s a roar of thunder from outside the building, and then pow- she turned into 7-10 beavers and just fucking scattered.

The third time was my fault actually- that was a real lady just she wanted to visit Hoover Dam and I got mad suspicious.

And on and on and on- Supermarket date? 7-10 beavers. Rowboat cruise of the river? 7-10 beavers. Las Vegas weekend with full penetrative sex? Step off that plane after and see what happens buddy cause I can assure you she’s gonna laugh, kick her heels off, and then turn into 7-10 beavers. You’re never getting that ring back, either.

Why do we have to put up with this? I realize it’s difficult to screen women for being 7-10 beavers in a trench coat, especially since I bought them all those burner phones, giving them the ability to create dozens upon dozens of accounts right from the comfort of their own dam systems.

However when these 7-10 beavers are verified you have to be mildly curious as to why they won’t take that trench coat off. That ID is made of bark, also, I’m telling you- you can tell because it doesn’t have the little hologram foil on it, and also is brown and the letters are carved it.

Like if it was just one or two or five to seven times I wouldn’t even sweat it- I’m not accusing all women of this – but let’s face it……. SOME percentage of the female population is 7-10 beavers and that’s really how it is.

Don’t start with me on how some men are 2-5 flamingos in a judges robe- yes, that happens, but not nearly as often as a woman turning into 7-10 beavers and you can vet for that- just don’t date any judges or pink men with three foot necks.

But ANYONE can wear a trenchcoat.

Anyway, don’t worry about me. It took a while, a lot of vetting and a LOT of patience, but I finally found a real one. She’s a Latin girl, with a kind voice and a beautiful trench coat and the moment I heard her name I fell HARD.

“Soyuna Castor, you’re one in a million.” I said. Then I clarified “ONE. Not seven to ten.” and she blushed and said nothing- just eating leaves from a trashbag and letting the moment be the moment…..

Anyway, tonight, when I’m proposing to her with a giant diamond and the reciept she requested to get it resized in case it’s too small, I’m going to look out from that fan boat right into her wetlands and say right out loud…

“Finally, the nightmare is over.”