Other posts related to boy-toy

Why I hate career oriented women and hope they rot in hell

Lincoln Adams | September 16, 2009 @ 9:30 pm

Only a few days left before I dropkick my eHarmony subscription in the face, and already I’m ready to take a vow of celibacy and join Al Bundy’s activist group NO MA’AM.

I get matched to a few lawyers, mental health professionals and other women working in full time careers that keep them ridiculously busy, but still I sent them all communication requests, since they seemed to pretty much have it together and were cute. You think I get a response? Of course not. They haven’t closed the match though, they’re just too busy to do much of anything, see.

And right away I know what they really want. They don’t want a relationship. What they DO want is a weekend boy toy, somebody to fill in those gaps of what little free time they have left over after working their jobs, a secondhand cuddle toy that they can squeeze like a Tickle Me Elmo doll for a few minutes before running right back to work or other commitments, leaving me in the lurch to twiddle my thumbs and wait until they’re finally free to hang out again.

I’ve seen this attitude before, women who would tell me they’ll be right back on IM and then disappear for a day, two days, a week, 2 weeks, before finally popping up again, no apology, no explanation, totally oblivious to their bad manners. What really chaps my Calvin Kleins about it all is that when you call them out on it, they accuse you of being a sissy boy who can’t handle being alone for more than 30 seconds, and real men wouldn’t be so clingy and if I can’t handle it then I don’t deserve them, blah blah blah. They exhaust every excuse to justify their rudeness, honestly believing that I am to sit down, shut up and wait patiently until they’re ready to finally bestow me with the greatness of their presence once again. For a few minutes that is.

It explains the attraction to aloof guys, and the amusing logical result of it when they wring their hands trying to figure out why such a guy doesn’t yearn for them and was so easily able to dump them like bad coffee, having already moved on to his next conquest.

And here’s the thing: if you don’t have 2 minutes of free time to reply to a request to communicate on eHarmony, just how much free time are you going to have for a real relationship? And I’m sorry, I am not going to be anybody’s weekend boyfriend, so if that’s your angle, you can go suck the ass of a moose. That’s not how I roll.

And before people start whining about how men do this all the time to women, I’m not excusing that either. It’s wrong when either side does it, and if it’s wrong when men do it, why would it be ok when women do it too? If you have a busy job, but you want a relationship and someone special in your life but you ain’t got the time, then MAKE time. Simple as that. You want it bad enough, you’ll find a way. I sacrifice my time to be with someone I care about, why can’t you? You say I’m too clingy? *bleep* you.

So women want a guy who is secure and happy without the need for girlie wubs, and therefore not clingy or piney or whatever the hell it is that offends you women so much that we would have the audacity to yearn for your presence. Since that’s the case, where would you expect to find such a secure-without-a-woman dude willing to put up with your mind bending neurosis? Uranus??

So how ’bout this then, I cling to my money and a single life free of your mind games and bull donkey turd, and you can cling to your precious careers and your never-ending search for one-sided wubs. See which one of us will end up happier, biznatches.

I leave you now with this Youtube vid that exemplifies for all time why women these days are just not worth the trouble anymore.



The Day Love Died

Lincoln Adams | May 9, 2007 @ 8:41 pm

My subscription to Match.com expired recently, concluding yet another sad chapter in my never ending search to find my snuggle bunny. I got over 300 views, and of those who read my profile and sent me winks, many were either 19 year old single mothers with 5 kids looking for a Daddy, 40-something year olds looking for a boy toy, or Russian women looking for a visa. I actually paid money for this?

There’s little doubt Match.com has been amongst the crappiest crappity-crap crapfest of a craphole dating site I’ve ever used. And what irks me even more is their glowing boast of how millions subscribe to their dating service, yet what they don’t tell you is that those “millions” get shrunk to thousands by state, then down to hundreds by locality, then to dozens when ruling out the whackos, then to one who is PERFECT for you, but just as you’re about to wink at her, she closes down her account after the guy at work finally works up the moxie to ask her out.

You would think an alternative dating site might prove more fruitful, but it seems the same women can be found on these sites as well. And I don’t mean similar people mind you, I mean the SAME EXACT women. Evidently this is the choice I’m left with: pay 30 dollars a month for one dating site, and if I’m unhappy with it, I can cancel my account and sign up for a completely unrelated matchmaking site for only 10 dollars more a month, offering… uh…. the same exact group of single women.

I’m beginning to think ringing up the DC Madam might not be such a bad idea after all. What I don’t get though is how some of the brothers can sign up for these very same sites and meet the girl of their dreams 30 seconds later. Fine. Here’s a toast hoping your marriages end just as quickly, where your precious love is replaced by alimony and child support payments that quite unfortunately for you will never, ever end. So there. Bastards.

But I’m not bitter.

Really though, I’m getting tired of you fricking happy dappy, lovey dovey, smoochie woochie herd of pervs always getting in my face no matter where I go. I can’t enjoy a hot chocolate at Starbucks without you sitting next to me and nuzzling noses. I can’t watch a movie without you guys sucking faces or stroking each other’s hair front and center. I can’t even go to the park and just try to enjoy the mother-fricking nice spring weather without seeing a whole parade of you walking around holding hands, or playing kissy faces, or rolling around on the grass as if the world were your very own bedroom.

May you all spontaneously combust into ashes. May the plague of mankind descend on you like molten lava on a village. May the wasps of a thousand hives sting all your insides with deathly poison. May… lots of bad things happen to you.

I need to take some valium now.