of my life.
Yes, for the very first time in my life.
I, am lovesick. You can tell by my previous posts.
I'm 100% bona fide insane.
Oops. Did I say insane? I meant lovesick.
Yes, dear friends, I am lovesick! For the very first time in my incredibly short life
of 15 years, 3 months, 19 days. Which works out the be about 5584 days or
134016 hours or 8040960 minutes OR 482457600.
Now, dear friends, before you start hassling me about accuracy, please take note that
I'm an extremely depressed and lovesick person over here.
HELLO!?! Heard of giving sympathy? That, and I'm only using estimates and a cheap
electronic calculator. (Blame IT, not me! Humans stick together!)
Well, to make up for my own insecurities -and to prevent any chance that I would be out of love any time soon- I decide to write a love letter.
Kind of corny, I know. But hey, old fashioned and corny sometimes works. I had no inspiration what so ever, on what to include in my love letter. I had never written one before and now that I was going to start, I didn't know where to begin.
Then I struck upon an epiphany!
I HAD to refer to romance novels!
Seeing the amount of females who were always so engrossed in romance
novels, I had to find out what was so novel about these novels myself.
Thus began my foray into the world of -female dominated- romance literature.
After four -exhausting- books, I have found out what attracts females to
romance novels, after comparing the similarities between all four of the books that
I had read. (Some of them lent to me by females themselves).
They are:
1. The Male protagonist is always an insufferable jackass.
2. Not being content with having a jackass the protagonist, the author-mostly female- has
to make the protagonist one with plenty of cash.
3. Still not content with the fact that he's rich, an ass and still able to attract very attractive
females like bees to honey, he has to have at least 15 inches of dynamite.
(if you know what I mean)
4. Females like the idea of sex a lot. And I DO mean a lot, with plenty of
explicit details.
5. The protagonist must be able to have sex with plenty of women without being
able to contract any form of STD.
Bearing that in mind, I immediately sought to change myself for the better,
get into the character, so to speak, so that I may write a thoroughly romantic
and corny love letter.
It was at that very moment when I realized that I could NEVER write a romantic love
letter that would make my beloved swoon over me.
Why?
I could not fulfill any of the above criteria, and thus could never be able to be what
females viewed as romantic.
Sure, I'm a jackass, but only in a very sexy way NOT in a terribly
jackassy kind of way, and thus already not fulfilling the first criteria. Secondly,
I'm not rich and could never have the insane amounts of money that would make me terribly
romantic. I'm also underage and could never fulfill a female's insatiable desire for sex,
doing so would end up with me in a boy's home or even worse prison, and I'm sure
that if I go around humping everything I see, I would encounter an STD faster than you could
say 'Jack Robinson'.
With this terrible realization, I slumped into a terrible bout of depression, having realized that
I was unromantic and could never satisfy any woman, emotionally or physically.
I was so sad at my inability to satisfy my beloved, that I contemplated suicide. A quick
jump from the 12th storey, ending all my troubles. Taking me away from my beloved and
leaving her free of the burden that is me.
However, lacking the courage to actually jump from the 12th story, I decided to be optimistic
and instead, attempted to write a love letter.
I racked my brains as hard as I could, I tried every single trick that ever existed in
that little non-existent book.
My final product had an ending that went along the lines of:
"I hate you. I want to murder you and your entire family and see you writhe in pleasure
as I slowly extinguish what is left of you pathetic little life. Die!"
Of course, I was still sane enough to realize that I could never send that letter out,
without expecting some sort of lawsuit in return that would threaten my peaceful existence.
I threw the letter away.
I resigned myself to spends the rest of my life being unloved and unwanted,
yet desired by so many other hot blooded females.
I cried at my inadequacy I cursed at everyone that I had ever met.
I was prepared to kill my self.
However, I had to check my e-mail first.
I don't know why, but I had the strong urge to check my e-mail.
Imagine my surprise while routinely looking through the spam folder
of my hotmail e-mail address (RE: iamahuman@hotmail.com)
I discovered one message sent to me by my dear friend,
"Bushmaster"
entitled: "What she wants''.
I was so excited I could barely breathe!
Had my savior finally arrived? Was I free to love again?
Could I redeem myself, finally?
The message contained an advert for penile growth enhancer.
Fucking cunts.
I'm going to kill myself.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's note:
I know, this is a terrible piece of writing. It's a damn piece of shit,
but I'm going to post it anyway. Why? Don't ask me why.
But I'm posting this anyway. Feel free to comment on how much
of bullshit -like the one above- this blog churns out. Better still,
try grading this piece of writing. I'd like to see what people think
about this piece of shit writing. Feel free to leave your comments.
6 comments:
U MCP hmph! mcp mcp mcp!!!! and who's audrey? lolz..
horrible person. mcp!!! grrrr...
im gonna flood tis MCP's comment tingy.. hmph.. mcp mcp!
LOLz. changed my mind. decided not to flood. hee
Go update your blog lah...
Hey, be glad you don't have "15 inches of dynamite," because you wouldn't be able to fit into a woman all the way to the hilt without causing some internal damage.
Most women are only 6-8 inches deep. Not to mention, it's not the length that matters as much as the width. It's the sides of our cooch (for lack of a better favourite term on my part) that have all the nerves to give us pleasure, not the "tip" (cervix).
Also: Not all women want a rich, assholey guy. That's just a fantasy that most of us wouldn't want to live. You know, kind of like the standard male fantasy of having 2 girls at once. It's a great fantasy, but the reality fails to compare.
What turns on most women in bed is for a guy to learn what we like, listen to our moans/groans/pleas/demands and adjust what you're doing based on that.
And to be honest, when you eventually have a girlfriend (if you don't already) that you're in a sexual relationship with: there really are time when she just won't come. And it's *not* your fault, it's just how we're made. There will also be times when she's in the mood for foreplay but meeting the "final goal" as it were, isn't a big requirement. Again, this also has *nothing* to do with you, or her feelings about you. It's just a mood we get in sometimes.
For me, it's more of a desire for comforting physical contact. Much akin to petting a cat repeatedly, only on a semi-sexual level (at least for Americans, who are told to interpret nudity as sex. Sadly, I buy into this belief, even though I logically know its just skin and we all have it, even if it is in different colours on some of us).
I have no idea if men are the same way. I mostly know what I know from online, and haven't really run across any men's forums where men discuss things like their girlfriends feeling inadequate because they didn't come last night. I haven't heard of any man (in real life) faking an orgasm before, either. I've heard of it in fanfic, but it was written by a woman. I'm sure it's *possible*, but I imagine it's quite rare to the point that you don't hear of it a lot. Kind of like how men *can* get breast cancer, but it's so rare, you don't hear of it a lot.
Also: Some girls like to have a guy going down on them, and some girls aren't that comfortable with the idea, because we're *paranoid* that we smell bad or taste bad (which, in theory, we shouldn't unless we have some form of STD, or possibly haven't bathed in a while).
Honestly, I got over that paranoia myself by fantasizing more often about having a guy go down on me, and getting used to the idea (to the point that it wasn't as taboo). What also helped was the realization that if I smelled bad, and the guy lies and says I smell good, it's only hurting him.
Another problem (at least in America) with a guy going down on a girl is that we're taught our vaginas aren't that attractive, simply by the fact that we have hair there. It's not that we're blatantly taught that, it's just what we're taught when we're informed by peer pressure that our hairy legs/armpits are disgusting, and our freshly shaved/smooth legs/armpits are sexy. You may not have that problem in Singapore, though, unless the American custom of shaving your hair (in blatant denial of your true Ape-like nature!) has made its way to your "corner" of the world.
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