Guna Die Alone part 5

Let me begin by saying that I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back on the ball. My computer had a pretty shitty virus and I needed dump my whole system. What a fiasco that was. It took me 3 days to find my copy of Vista. Turns out it was in my attic and I'm just a retard. After that it involved calling India and talking to several people that didn't speak English, but kept asking me the same questions, and who apparantly knew a lot about computers. And honestly tech support goons if you sound like Apu from the Simpsons I know your name isn't really Jim.



And why did I have a shitty computer virus you might ask? Let's just say my roomate had a spank rag...



Anyhow, back to the matter at hand. So gypsy and I had a really nice "first" date. Nothing fancy, we just met for a few drinks in an empty bar and talked for a few hours. It should also be noted that it was the only time we were alone together when we went out. Every other time it was like I mentioned before. I'd be trying to talk to her and some fucking chud with his hair combed over one eye and wearing his sister's panties would roll up acting all fucking cool and give her a hug before rambling on and on about these new revolutionary musical ideas, aka stupid fucking shit no one gives a fuck about.



You fucking hipster pricks are not the reincarnation of Emmerson and Thoreau in musical form. This isn't fucking Walden. You live in fucking Fort Collins and are thus surrounded by concrete, shopping malls, and of course your fucking favorite, coffee shops. I did actually overhear a group of these fucking pretentious pieces of shit, in a coffee shop no less, talking about how they might be it. They were so fucking pleased with themselves about how their musical efforts could very well prove to be the next transcendental movement.



Are you fucking kidding me! You have a fucking hammer tattooed on your arm for fuck's sake! And why? Because you like to build things? Really? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. The only thing you're building is my rage. I wish that hammer was real so I could have bashed your face in with it. Just because you fucking faggots sit around playing pirate songs on your accordion while you and your friends fill each other's heads with delusions of grandeur in a big fucking circle jerk, doesn't mean you've unlocked some great mystery.



Where's your civil disobedient? The fact that you shop at the Good Will? You're avoiding corporatism to make a stand right? NO! You shop at the Good Will for two reasons. 1, you like looking like shit all the time, because that makes you cool right? Girls dig that shit right? Fucking faggots. 2, you're fucking poor! I know this because I shop at the Good Will too, and I'm fucking poor. There isn't a single thing about any of this shit that is transcendental. Oh, and no one has ever gotten laid by playing and accordion. Except Weird Al prolly.



So this shit would happen all the time when I was with gypsy. Drove me fucking crazy. And for the record assholes, if you're reading this, everyone knows you didn't actually want to do any side projects with her. You just wanted to fuck her, and that's all. And it's hilarious because you have yourself so convinced that this new musical image you've so carefully sewn together, much like the Tickle Me Pink patches to the sweater you stole from Hot Topic with your eye liner, is so fucking cool girls will just roll over. Well Fuck you.



Though I am sad to say that this bullshit works out for them far more often than it should. And why? Becuase girls are dumb. Stop falling for this shit ladies! It's all lies, all of it! I know I give you bitches a lot of shit but it pains me to see you be duped in such a fashion. You're better than that.



Oh and girls. We never, and I mean fucking never want to be your friend. Any guy that tells you he just wants to be your friend is a fucking lier. What he should be saying is, "I just want to be your friend, until you finally decide you want to fuck me, because that's all I really want." The majority of the time that men spend with women is in search of sex. And it fucking cracks me up when I tell this to girls, for their benifet in my mind, and they get all butt hurt. Sorry to burst your fucking bubble but you're really not that cool. I'm trying to tell you some truth about men so maybe you ladies won't be so confused when we act strange. Don't be so fucking sensitive.



But yes, men have no interest in being friends with women. Ever. It's not that you women don't have good qualities, in fact you all have plenty of great characteristics. Like your vagina for example. That's a great one. Do you get what I'm saying here? Remember girls I love all of you. So much in fact, you will most likely be what kills me in the end. We're just too different to be friends without fucking. Men are animals and women are fucking crazy. Sex is the only real way we can connect. Everything else is built on that. So grow up.



Anyway, the point is that when this shit would happen I would get really angry. So angry in fact that I wanted to throw her on the ground, wherever we might be, and fuck her in front of everyone. In the middle of it I'd look up at the guy through his disheveled hair and say, "Excuse me, but we were talking!" Then after I fuck her, with no souce of course, I'd pretend that he was a vampire and that my penis was a wooden stake. Hopefully right after I stab him through the chest with my angry erection, I'd bust a nut into his heart and main arteries so that my jizz could circulate through his body in the last few seconds he has before he fucking dies like he deserves.



What a great idea for an episode of CSI, don't ya think? No one would ever suspect my penis was the murder weapon.



I should state for the record that I wasn't so angry about it because I was all possessive of her. That's not really my style. She's her own person and can do what she likes. I get upset when I'm constantly surrounded by lies. And sadly, that is what our world is composed of.



Now with all that in mind, enter lady number 3. Feminist. Oh, what a piece of work she was. This chick was a friend of a friend. I dug her because she was a little older than me, and I have a thing for older women. Now I don't mean OLDER than me, just a couple years or so, late 20's maybe 30. I've always wanted to date a chick in her 30's. Women of that age, as far as I can tell, might actually feel good about their bodies and the way they look. By then they're enetering into their sexual prime, and they've had time to play the field. They know the score. There's more honesty. They might even have their shit together and know what they want. That's a big difference from the girls I'm used to fucking.



Really though it all came back to Sarah. I convinced myself for a while I wasn't still upset about her because I had all these other women, but it wasn't true. I hated striper. We had nothing in common, thus we had nothing to talk about. All we did was fuck. Then there was gypsy. For a few moments I actually though that she could be my replacement for Sarah.



Now I know that sounds terrible and I don't really mean it the way it sounds. I've come to terms that it's going to take a very special lady to do for me what Sarah did. Who knows if I'll even find one again. It's that special. But for a few moments I thought maybe gypsy could fulfil that for me. Insert all those problems I mentioned about us together earlier, and we all know how that story ends. So between those 2 girls, it motivated me to go for 3. And this is what led me to feminist.



So feminist was a friend of a friend, that at the time, had just separated from her husband. She also had kids. Now don't fucking ask me what it is with me and chicks with kids, cause I don't fucking get it. I can tell you, however, that I am a magnet for girls with emotional problems. Now this is usually where I might insert some hilarious quip about how all women have emotional problems and I'm just a girl magnet. Hardy fucking har. Umm, no. And fuck you for thinking I'd write that down.



No I'm talking about serious intimacy issues. I also have those, but at least mine are funny to read about. Seriously, if there is a crazy fucking bag of whore, she'll find me, and she'll think I'm fucking great. At least for a little while. I think it's because I've slowly grown into that abusive father figure that they loathe outloud, but secretly have wanted to fuck since they were little girls. I think this is true because most of us define our reality through suffering and unhappiness. Miserable = comfortable. At least I'm doing something for someone.



So she had kids, but I was less sketched out about it because her husband was still going to be active in the children's lives, so that was a big relief for me. I also never saw her kids because they rotated visitation every week, so I only hung out with her when her kids were gone. Worked out well. Especially as I juggled time with various women.



Now I know you didn't get as much of the whole story in this episode as I promised you might in my last post, but this shit has been pestering me, and I needed to get it out. That, and I'm warming back up.



My time with feminist was boring, and completely unextraordinary. There was only one time when she is really worth mentioning, and that was the last time we hung out together before I called it quits. It's also important for later on in the story.



With that, I'll leave you with this, copied right out of the dictionary, word for word. You'll need it to get ready for part 6.



sat⋅ire 

–noun
1.
the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2.
a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.
3.
a literary genre comprising such compositions.