So many times I set out some isolated night to find myself, something to make me happy, or feel like I am something special. But I'm not a master. I can't just find those things. I don't end up in those situations, I do not posess the right magnetism. I can't pick up any female I want, and never will. I don't have the right personality. I won't be the guy who can go to a social event and come home with a brand new $800,000,000 deal. I always look good, but I don't want to be messed with. I suited up once recently to go out and drink, and I was going to go home with a girlI know, but I ended up starting a brawl with a guy who was harassing a female, and i ended it by spartan kicking him in the chest and getting arrested by the cops. They just took me home though.
I'm not made for this social stuff. I want a livelihood. I want a career or a lifestyle that I can fall in love with. It's not marriage and family that I crave. It's not casual sex, or corporate rat race politics with money flowing like wine, seducing women of addictive habits with my cash. It's not warfare, being a hero of battle, showing off scars and going off on how much harder I had it than the next guy because I got blown up more. It's not a simple job of trading the ticking hours of my life for a measly pittance, so that I can come home an veg out as I eek my way turough life. It's not poverty, wealth, or the bastardized middle class that calls me. It's not service to my country or servitude to one of its agencies. I barely understand why I would want to serve the population of these undeserving people, to make their society better. I don't want fame, but I want the world to listen to what I have to say. I want to piss off the authorities, and throw the undeniable damning truth in their faces. Being responsible for the start of any kind of revolution would give me awesome pleasure.
I don't care if I'm martyred. I don't care if I am placed under arrest. "But Hazel, what about marriage, family? What about having money? Don't you need to score with all the hotties you possibly can, so that you can prove to the world what a big-dick badass you are? Isn't that the most important thing in life, to prove something to other people?" ...you may ask. But what's the point? I'm already totally awesome, and I know this. If they don't notice, it's to be expected from haters and those who are inferior to awesomeness. What's the use? All I want to care about is my purpose.
I observe the ladies at the bar. The hottest ones, for example, who do they go home with? Who are their boyfriends? Dudes in skinny jeans and weird shoes that don't know how to shave or get a haircut, wearing a stupid looking coat, looking scrawny and pathetic, while I work out and could beat his ass like a puppy, i'm clean cut wearing a suit, and smart as hell. And I have to pretend I'm somebody less than myself to pick up girls? I'm pretty much over it. I'm pretty much already superior to them, and therefore don't need to get the girl to win. Getting the girl is really just kind of a drag, because then eventually I will have to ditch her for cramping my style. I don't think they deserve me. I don't lie about myself any more. I have passions way bigger than some dame, and she can't compete, she's not enough of a mystery. So she thinks I'm weird, because my interests matter. So she bangs some guy whose biggest interest is who won the game last night. Even though I am better than him in bed? But she'll never know. He probably finishes before her, rolls over, turns on ESPN and falls asleep or kicks her out. If it was me, I would just keep going for the next 12 hours. There is no female out there for me.
Maybe it's because I have bigger and better things to do. I want to see something incredible. I want to solve mysteries, and have adventures. I want a life of danger and intrigue. And isn't that what we all want? I'm just too intelligent. Girls are not a mystery. They try to think they are that incredible, but they are just not.
I watched "This Means War" tonight. I don't mind ruining it for you because the ending sucked. The guy who deserved her got blown off, and the fake-ass dick was who she chose. Because the real guy didn't actually have sex with her. He was too much of a gentleman and had too much honor to break his word. Yet they went back to being best friends, knowing that one of them had no integrity. Women will ALWAYS pick the guy that gets them into bed first. No matter what they say, they don't want a nice guy, good guy, respectful guy that takes his time and is willing to wait. They want a guy who can talk or charm them out of their pants as quickly as possible. Mystery solved. And what do u know... she chose the one that banged her, the fake one, not the one who treated her with respect and deserved her. But it's ALL OK, because his baby mama took him back. Which is great, because she was such a great choice before and pretty much screwed him over the whole time. So it worked out. The good guy got screwed, and once again all is right with the universe. In reality, Reese Witherspoon would have chosen the lying, pretty boy, poser, fake-ass player, who it turned out had had sex with the nice guy's ex as well as any other girl he wanted to, and as for the baby-mama, instead of taking him back when she found out the truth about him, she would have gotten a restraining order and taken full custody of their son. That is the real ending. There is no longer any reason to give a damn about females. They are not worth any of my time or effort. May God grant me my dreams instead.