Finishing last.

Nice guys finish last. Thats the adage, the folklore of the day. See what happens is girls say they want a nice guy, but all they date are assholes. Why, you ask? Beacuse assholes have confidence and the balls to ask girls out. Nice guys stand at a distance, passively trying to get girls to notice them. The girls seem easily taken by the bravado of assholes and for the most part they are. There is a grim satisfaction nice guys take from the current divorce rate too. As a nice guy myself I have tried to teach myself to act like an asshole but it’s a false skin and is easily penetrated. Lies make poor armor. It’s strange to me that girls are so confused by a man who doesn’t try to fuck them on a first date. It’s like the modern generation is programmed to be whores and pimps. I was trained different, by my mother mostly but also by the women I respected in my life. I come from a family of feisty women who when pushed are absolutely savage. So as a youth I learned a healthy respect for women. It’s odd now to be in a culture where women do not expect much less demand that level of respect. Hence the nice guy who knows how to treat a woman is left out in the cold. After all girls have been programmed to think that if a guy doesn’t try to score on the first night he must not be into them. It’s a sad state of affairs (literally). So here I sit twice tonight girls I know have asked for a hero or to be saved. Not knowing that I would love nothing more than to save them but also knowing they have no idea what exactly they are asking for. Most women have no idea how to be feminine and most men have absolutely no control of their libido. We have reached the point prophesied in Trainspotting. There are no men or women anymore there are just wankers. Lust crazed individuals who have absolutely no understanding of love or intimacy. Hence those of us who are tragically “old school” are rejected as being pussies or just plain weird. I am a hapless romantic, and I refuse to compromise this in misguided attempts at getting laid. Sex means nothing without love and is not worth the trouble. Love is really the only thing I’m after and it has little to do with sex. So here I am finishing last but when I do finish it will be worth so much more.

Romance of the road

The romance of the road, lonliness, longing drinking. Scotch from a plastic cup in a hotel near an airport. Everything is temporary here, just enough to get by, everything is disposable, even friends. The open road the love hate relationship with a spiteful mistress. One moment she’s alluring with the promise of new sensation, the next emptiness sets in. Nothing lasts, everything is a cheap thrill. But it’s enough to live for, enough to make a person get up each morning and look toward the sunset with hope, enough to get one through the day, and another day always looking for the next thrill. The end of the road is not even a thought. It’s not the destination thats the goal it’s the journey, the experience. Life lived with zeal and vigor amassing wealth in knowledge gained not through books, but by doing, by living. The goal of every true traveller is to travel. Not to arrive.