Sunday 24 July 2011
Saturday 23 July 2011
Sex with different girls can get boring. I kinda want a girlfriend. I want a best friend I can fuck.
Having a girlfriend will make other girls want to fuck me more. I have never understood girls and, along with the other half of the world's population, I never will.
They are stupid and idiotic and completely illogical and I couldn't live without them.
Like cigarettes.
Having a girlfriend will make other girls want to fuck me more. I have never understood girls and, along with the other half of the world's population, I never will.
They are stupid and idiotic and completely illogical and I couldn't live without them.
Like cigarettes.
Friday 22 July 2011
The reason
Girl troubles are, of course, a main factor in my contributions to this.
Mostly that and my complete and utter contempt for my own generation.
Updates will be irregular, as if it matters.
I've been looking for somewhere to write my thoughts for a while, and have been toying with the idea of starting a blog but not really taking it seriously. Blogs are one of the many things i despise about modern soceity, but as with many other of these things I feel compelled to do them nontheless. It can get quite irritating being such a hypocrite all the time.
The reason I finally decided to start somewhere I can write my thoughts, began in 2009. It is a long arduous story, one I have replayed in my head far too many times to bear writing down, but as with most stories, it is a love story. One of despair. I spent two years of my life teetering on the brink of obsession over a girl. Emily. We met on the first day of college and I was completely and utterly infatuated with her. I spent the next two years daydreaming about her in classes, dreaming about her at night, to the point where I would wake up with my arms around my pillow. I would get on the bus every morning and hope to see her sitting at the back in her purple hoodie, smiling at me. We were good friends, and I don't believe in hiding (as I type this anonymous blog) so I would always come right out and tell her my feelings, but she would always take my words as sign of a close friendship instead. Ah the friend zone, the most deadliest of traps a man can fall into when spending time around a girl he loves. Sometimes I wouldnt see Emily for hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks if both our schedules were busy, but every time I saw her it was the same. I'd freeze up, blush, stutter my words, say stupid things, and generally feel like Michael Cera. I hated it. I don't believe in relationships, I don't believe emotions are rational at all and they have no place in my life, I drift between faceless girls having meaningless sex and have done for years, since a certain incident when I was young that made me realise just how pointless and unnatural relationships are. I did however find another girl, who was the perfect girlfriend on paper and in practise whenever I look back on it. But she knew about my feelings for Emily, and there was always a tension in the relationship because she could tell just how deep I was in love. It didn't end well.
I went back to meaningless sex with girls I wasn't attracted to, probably in an attempt to forget about Emily.
That never worked.
Emily took away all my life rules, all my moral guidelines, and turned me into a wimpering mess whenever I saw her, and I hated it. I hated being totally and completely obsessed with her, but I couldn't help myself and it was worse because she never returned my affections. She kissed me on the lips four times and on the cheek six times in two years, I distinctly remember each time and why it happened. It always happened because I had done something sweet for her. That was it, all I'd get is a smile and a kiss on the cheek for tearing my heart out of my chest and holding it in blood-soaked, outstretched arms towards her.
In first year, she is still a virgin. I am, for reasons that far surpass the primal sex instinct, determined to be her first time. I want her to enjoy it, I want her to remember it, I want to know she is being taken care of. I can provide all these things for her. She ends up going out with a second year, who is captain of the rugby team and head of the 'top table' group (popular kids). the more I think while I type this, the more it sounds like a terrible American high school film. In typical fashion, he is a dick to her, she becomes more and more obsessed with him the worse he treats her, he eventually takes her virginity and then leaves her. I'm the shoulder she cries on. I would go home and have no shoulder to cry on.
I tell myself how good I could treat her. I tell my friends, who are already fully aware that she will have the best time of her life if she would only go out with me. I tell her, she brushes it off and thanks me for being such a good friend. It's painful. I will literally do anything I can for this girl. I'm not an idiot, but I have a very small grasp on the idea of romance, nevertheless I vow to do whatever I can for her, and nothing.
I turn up to her birthday party, the fancy dress theme was 'things from your childhood' so me and Nathan went dressed as paedophiles. I meet her mom, introduce myself, and upon hearing my name her mom gasps and steps back in shock. She cleans Emily's room and reads all the cards I send on Valentines Day, Christmas, past birthdays etc. I spent at least ten minutes on each card, selecting appropriate poems or Shakespeare extracts that she can relate to. Her mom agrees with me and the rest of the universe that we would be perfect together, but nothing.
I could keep going.
The last week ever of college, I'm round my friends house for our usual pasttimes of smoking weed and drinking Fosters, and I have an epiphany. It occurs to me in the space of about half a second, during a particularly intense game of Tekken, and I suddenly realise I have wasted the last two years of my life fauning over Emily, and in the meantime have ignored friends, destroyed my chances with a perfect girlfriend, spent far too much time and money trying to be nice to her, and getting nothing in return.
Me and the lads are queueing up outside one of the local clubs, she walks past with her friends and sees me. I say hi to her friend and use every ounce of my will to completely ignore her. She begins to cry. I feel powerful, free at last. We enter the club where I meet several of my girl-friends who have been following the story of me and Emily from day one. To make her feel worse, they all gather round me and grind to the music while making sure we are standing right next to her in the crowd. They were always good friends.
After that, I get one text the next day asking why I ignored her, I don't reply, and then nothing. Nothing at all. She makes absolutely no effort to repair our previously very strong friendship.
I happily delete her from facebook, safe in the knowledge that I will never have to deal with her again, I'm moving to London for university and so I will never have to see her again.
I spend my entire first year at university getting drunk every day and sleeping with girls. I have a great time.
Sometimes I'd think about how she was doing, but then tell myself to forget about her, and I did. It was quite easy, almost too easy.
I have come back home from London for the summer, and as always have traditionally gone to this same club, looking to maybe possibly find one girl in the sea of gyrating fake-tanned flesh who isn't completely in love with herself. I never do when I go there. I don't know why I go there.
This particular night, I'm having a casual conversation with a few friends at the bar, and see her behind me. She notices me at several points in the night, I ignore her gaze all night and get daggers stared into my skull. She knows I chain-smoke, so waits for me outside and asks to talk. I initially refuse and storm off, but after seeing her everything comes flooding back and I spend the rest of the night searching the club for her. We talk outside for maybe half an hour, I tell her how much I was in love with her and how much I despised myself and then how much I despised her when I realised she had wasted two years of my life. She sits there and listens, a lot more attentively then I think she would've done at college. We hug, exchange numbers, and now all I can think about is her again. I have spent the last year of my life climbing out of a pit, and in one night I have fallen right back to the bottom again. I'm not back in London until october, which means I will find myself texting her at stupid times in the morning when I'm incoherently drunk, confessing my feelings and never getting at least a reply.
That, basically, is the reason I started this blog. So I can type things like that and it at least feels like I'm telling someone.
Mostly that and my complete and utter contempt for my own generation.
Updates will be irregular, as if it matters.
I've been looking for somewhere to write my thoughts for a while, and have been toying with the idea of starting a blog but not really taking it seriously. Blogs are one of the many things i despise about modern soceity, but as with many other of these things I feel compelled to do them nontheless. It can get quite irritating being such a hypocrite all the time.
The reason I finally decided to start somewhere I can write my thoughts, began in 2009. It is a long arduous story, one I have replayed in my head far too many times to bear writing down, but as with most stories, it is a love story. One of despair. I spent two years of my life teetering on the brink of obsession over a girl. Emily. We met on the first day of college and I was completely and utterly infatuated with her. I spent the next two years daydreaming about her in classes, dreaming about her at night, to the point where I would wake up with my arms around my pillow. I would get on the bus every morning and hope to see her sitting at the back in her purple hoodie, smiling at me. We were good friends, and I don't believe in hiding (as I type this anonymous blog) so I would always come right out and tell her my feelings, but she would always take my words as sign of a close friendship instead. Ah the friend zone, the most deadliest of traps a man can fall into when spending time around a girl he loves. Sometimes I wouldnt see Emily for hours, sometimes days, sometimes weeks if both our schedules were busy, but every time I saw her it was the same. I'd freeze up, blush, stutter my words, say stupid things, and generally feel like Michael Cera. I hated it. I don't believe in relationships, I don't believe emotions are rational at all and they have no place in my life, I drift between faceless girls having meaningless sex and have done for years, since a certain incident when I was young that made me realise just how pointless and unnatural relationships are. I did however find another girl, who was the perfect girlfriend on paper and in practise whenever I look back on it. But she knew about my feelings for Emily, and there was always a tension in the relationship because she could tell just how deep I was in love. It didn't end well.
I went back to meaningless sex with girls I wasn't attracted to, probably in an attempt to forget about Emily.
That never worked.
Emily took away all my life rules, all my moral guidelines, and turned me into a wimpering mess whenever I saw her, and I hated it. I hated being totally and completely obsessed with her, but I couldn't help myself and it was worse because she never returned my affections. She kissed me on the lips four times and on the cheek six times in two years, I distinctly remember each time and why it happened. It always happened because I had done something sweet for her. That was it, all I'd get is a smile and a kiss on the cheek for tearing my heart out of my chest and holding it in blood-soaked, outstretched arms towards her.
In first year, she is still a virgin. I am, for reasons that far surpass the primal sex instinct, determined to be her first time. I want her to enjoy it, I want her to remember it, I want to know she is being taken care of. I can provide all these things for her. She ends up going out with a second year, who is captain of the rugby team and head of the 'top table' group (popular kids). the more I think while I type this, the more it sounds like a terrible American high school film. In typical fashion, he is a dick to her, she becomes more and more obsessed with him the worse he treats her, he eventually takes her virginity and then leaves her. I'm the shoulder she cries on. I would go home and have no shoulder to cry on.
I tell myself how good I could treat her. I tell my friends, who are already fully aware that she will have the best time of her life if she would only go out with me. I tell her, she brushes it off and thanks me for being such a good friend. It's painful. I will literally do anything I can for this girl. I'm not an idiot, but I have a very small grasp on the idea of romance, nevertheless I vow to do whatever I can for her, and nothing.
I turn up to her birthday party, the fancy dress theme was 'things from your childhood' so me and Nathan went dressed as paedophiles. I meet her mom, introduce myself, and upon hearing my name her mom gasps and steps back in shock. She cleans Emily's room and reads all the cards I send on Valentines Day, Christmas, past birthdays etc. I spent at least ten minutes on each card, selecting appropriate poems or Shakespeare extracts that she can relate to. Her mom agrees with me and the rest of the universe that we would be perfect together, but nothing.
I could keep going.
The last week ever of college, I'm round my friends house for our usual pasttimes of smoking weed and drinking Fosters, and I have an epiphany. It occurs to me in the space of about half a second, during a particularly intense game of Tekken, and I suddenly realise I have wasted the last two years of my life fauning over Emily, and in the meantime have ignored friends, destroyed my chances with a perfect girlfriend, spent far too much time and money trying to be nice to her, and getting nothing in return.
Me and the lads are queueing up outside one of the local clubs, she walks past with her friends and sees me. I say hi to her friend and use every ounce of my will to completely ignore her. She begins to cry. I feel powerful, free at last. We enter the club where I meet several of my girl-friends who have been following the story of me and Emily from day one. To make her feel worse, they all gather round me and grind to the music while making sure we are standing right next to her in the crowd. They were always good friends.
After that, I get one text the next day asking why I ignored her, I don't reply, and then nothing. Nothing at all. She makes absolutely no effort to repair our previously very strong friendship.
I happily delete her from facebook, safe in the knowledge that I will never have to deal with her again, I'm moving to London for university and so I will never have to see her again.
I spend my entire first year at university getting drunk every day and sleeping with girls. I have a great time.
Sometimes I'd think about how she was doing, but then tell myself to forget about her, and I did. It was quite easy, almost too easy.
I have come back home from London for the summer, and as always have traditionally gone to this same club, looking to maybe possibly find one girl in the sea of gyrating fake-tanned flesh who isn't completely in love with herself. I never do when I go there. I don't know why I go there.
This particular night, I'm having a casual conversation with a few friends at the bar, and see her behind me. She notices me at several points in the night, I ignore her gaze all night and get daggers stared into my skull. She knows I chain-smoke, so waits for me outside and asks to talk. I initially refuse and storm off, but after seeing her everything comes flooding back and I spend the rest of the night searching the club for her. We talk outside for maybe half an hour, I tell her how much I was in love with her and how much I despised myself and then how much I despised her when I realised she had wasted two years of my life. She sits there and listens, a lot more attentively then I think she would've done at college. We hug, exchange numbers, and now all I can think about is her again. I have spent the last year of my life climbing out of a pit, and in one night I have fallen right back to the bottom again. I'm not back in London until october, which means I will find myself texting her at stupid times in the morning when I'm incoherently drunk, confessing my feelings and never getting at least a reply.
That, basically, is the reason I started this blog. So I can type things like that and it at least feels like I'm telling someone.
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