It’s no secret that one of my favorite pastimes is to bash women and their womenly ways on a regular basis, being that I’m an acidic women hating hairy baboon and all.

And yet oddly enough, it only occurred to me recently that most of the people I chat with and consider myself friends with are… women??

So I decided to do some research. I went back and evaluated how many guys and gals touched bases with me over the past year, then cut out those I either hadn’t known long enough or whom I rarely ever spoke with.

As it turns out, over 83% of the people I consider myself friends or good acquaintances with were all WOMEN. The number of women I talk to on a regular basis outnumbered the guys by a ratio of 5 to 1.

Dude, whaaa__?

But I also noticed something else: ALL of the women I knew were married or at least 5 years older than me. In fact, to this day I have yet to make a woman friend who was both single and within the ages of 18-30. Unsurprisingly enough, this also happens to be the same group I reserve all my virulent, bile, acidic hatred for, so much that within the underground women-hating movement I’m widely known under the callsign of KILLBITCH.

I’ve asked around about this, and from what I’ve been told so far, many single, young women are basically stupid-ass creatures who don’t get over themselves until they either hit their thirties, or they get married, or both. And sometimes not even then. Mind you this is women telling me this, but who knows, maybe my misogynism was rubbing off on them.

Anyone else have any theories? Why is it so easy for me to make friends with married or older women, and yet it is a bitch and an ass and a half when they’re single and around my age?

It’s no secret that I live the life of a Downtown Man. Women who lived in an uptown world, along with their fancy college degrees and white collar professions could never go for a blue collar bum like me. Social status doesn’t exist in a vacuum after all, and if I don’t got the mojo, then there’s no way I can land me some high class ho-hos, ya know?

But Billy Joel, he made me believe. He made me dare to dream in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, there was an Uptown girl out there who could see past my blue collar ways, and past the gruff exterior. Yes you did, Billy Joel:

But I see now that it was all a dirty, filthy, vomitous lie. Damn you Billy Joel!! Damn you for making me dream wonderful dreams, only to see reality grind them out like so much meat!!!! I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you…

Yep, I got another rejection letter lined up, this time in response to a Craigslist ad that I could swear I never posted, and yet somehow it got posted anyway.   Don’t worry though, this is my last one because I am so, so, SO done with this whole dating-relationship crap.  I am finally going full on Lone Ranger here, and bite me all of you who think I can’t be happy being single.

So anyways, why am I rejecting this one?  Because dude, she totally looked like a guy.  Seriously.   She’s British though, so that might explain a few things, but still, dude, she really totally looked like a guy.  Here’s my farewell email to her:

Dear Look-Like-A-Man,

I wanted to like you.   I really did.  But see, here’s the thing: you look like a man.   A man wearing a pretty blonde wig, but a man nonetheless.

I can deal with plain looking women.  I can deal with women who are overweight.   I can deal with women who have disabilities and missing body parts (unless it’s the head maybe.)  I can even deal with women who watch reality shows.  I cannot however, in this life or the next, deal with a woman who looks like a man.

Even slightly mannish features creep me out in ways not even Richard Simmons could do.  There’s just no way I could see myself embracing you intimately or puckering up to give you a kissy without my inwards screaming out, “MAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!”

So you see, it’s not you, it’s me.  I do hope though that you will someday meet that special guy who thinks a mustache on a woman is sexy, and that the two of you will be very happy together.  I however, must sadly follow another path.

So, best of luck to you, and here’s a little parting advice: do try to shave every now and then, ok?

Much love,

Lincoln

No of course I didn’t send it, but I was in a conundrum.  I didn’t want to blow her off, but I didn’t want to tell her straight up that I was only interested in women who looked like women either, so what’s a stud like me to do?

Then a thought came to me: make her think she’s rejecting ME instead.   Brilliant!

So I did some surfing to find the dweebiest, weeniest photo that still looked authentic enough for me to use as a picture of “myself,” then wrote her a friendly email in which I casually mentioned being heavily in debt and living with my parents, but she needn’t worry, I worked a prestigious job as a low-level clerk, so it should only be just a few more years before I can finally move out on my own.   Say, when I’m 36 or so…

Here’s the photo I used.  Poor guy, whoever he is I hope he never sees this post:

It’s been a few days now and I have yet to receive a response from her.  Dude, I awesomely rock.

I hate dating experts.  You can’t find a more execrable lot who dispenses either the kind of common sense advice that even a monkey with half a brain wasted on whiskey would know, or a truckload of compost heap designed to liberate you of your wallet money before you realize you’ve been had, and no, Pickup Step #12 wasn’t the sure winner they said it would be after all.  Dating experts are like lawyers, they over complicate what should be simple matters, because if they didn’t, there’d be no business for them.  This is why they should all be rounded up and sent to some death camp somewhere (Florida, maybe?)

Still, I was bored today and ended up reading this series of interviews with 3 popular male dating experts.

And now I feel like blowing sh__ up.

You get advice like don’t be altruistic because women won’t find it sincere, or if I end up getting stuck in the friend zone I should get a new haircut and maybe change my cologne, or my personal favorite, I should try withholding my name intentionally when introducing myself to a girl, that way if she asks me what it is, I’ll know she’s interested, and if she doesn’t, then that means I should move on.

Because you know, there’s just no way to tell if a girl is into you right off the bat without being a rude little bastard.

BUT, it’s agreed that I can still be myself… only the best part of myself that is.  The bad parts I should be  burying in secrecy until we tie the knot, at which point I can then safely make known the depths and widths of my obscenely ugly personality.

Yes I can see myself getting far with these little gems of wisdom.

Oh, and the niceness thing?  We gotta knock that crap off:

Because nice guys are weak guys. They wear their heart on their sleeve and they don’t make the girl work for it. …What happens is that the guy says, “I had a good time, did you? Can I see you again? You’re really a nice girl! You’re sure good looking.” This girl is 28, she’s good looking, and ever since she was 12, guys have been telling her she’s beautiful. So, what effect does that compliment have? It’s a negative.

You know, there’s a difference between being nice and being a weenie, but unfortunately the two often get lumped together as being the same.  If a girl is really into me, of course I’d want to treat her like a queen because she’s genuinely interested in me,  not because she’s a blowtorch of a man hater with plans to dominate me and crush my precious balls so she can win another one for the home team.  She cares about who I am.  That in itself is a trait so rare that it behooves me not to respond in a showering of wubsy wubs and affection.

And really, complimenting her is not a negative, dumbass.  You know why it was a negative before?  Because all those guys telling her how beautiful she was said it because they wanted to get into her pantie wanties.  If a decent guy says it and actually MEANS it though, she should pick up on that and realize she’s finally got something genuine here, and she’ll appreciate his kindness because they come straight from the heart.

Because seriously dude, if she can’t handle being treated like gold by a nice guy (who’s not a weenie), isn’t that an indication that there’s something wrong with HER?  So why does all of mankind have to adapt themselves to accommodate this particularly large segment of fruity nuts bitchdom?  I know why, because you are all a bunch of disgusting horndogs who will do and say anything to get laid.  MEN.  They are the most damned stupidest piggish pig-like pig-borking piggyback pigger pigs to have ever graced creation, honest to God.  When they’re not busy scratching and rubbing their 9 months pregnant sized hairy ass bellies, they’re busy letting one fly while they expound on the intricacies of the latest scores in sports or how they’d like to hit every walking thing within 100 yards that passes for a female, and yet they profoundly believe this is what passes for intelligent discussion.

Ok, that got away from me a little.    Back to the women bashing here.  I noticed they wrap things up by conceding what we’ve known all along, that women are in fact attracted to money and power, only here they try to soften the blow by saying women are attracted to guys with wealth and status, which translates into, uh, money and power.

Sigh.  Remember back when life was simpler and marriages were arranged and we could all marry our cousins and sisters without anyone blinking an eye?  I miss those days.

I can’t get no, satisfaction,

I CAN’T GET NO!!

***************************

While I was surfing online and bopping to a Rolling Stones tune, an icon popped up on my screen notifying me that Girl-Who-Blew-Me-Off had just signed on (actually, that describes every girl I’ve ever wanted to get involved with since Reagan was President, so let’s call her Lying-Introvert instead.) I debated whether to just ignore her, or send her an IM in the hopes that maybe I could get some answers as to why she blew me off. I can’t stand having questions that forever go unanswered, so of course I caved:

Me: Hey, I can see you!

Surprisingly, she answered right away.

Her: yeah it’s a rarity cuz too many people im me at once when i am visible

Hmm, an introvert is so popular she has to stay invisible or she’ll get bombarded with IMs? Well, whatever. I decide to hit her point blank.

Me: Hey, can I ask you something?

Her: sure

Me: You didn’t like my pictures did you. Be honest now

Her: well the pics were pretty much what i expected, not diff from your profile photo…..but what u have to understand is, i have been talking to a few diff people from that site…..

Translation: She thought I was ugly, didn’t want to cap to it, and I was already a foregone conclusion in her mind since she was checking out other prospects, and she was probably wondering why the hell I wouldn’t just take the hint and go away.

Her: also my “social life” has been quite busy lately, i had an interesting weekend to say the least and i’ve been caught up with those things that have been happeneing

Translation: She’d been a-whoring around town going out on other dates, and is now head over heels in love with a tatooed up biker named Butch.

After that, she pretty much disappeared on me again. Don’t ask me how I’m doing, don’t ask me how my day was. Nothing. Boy all that Christian love really comes gushing out when you meet a fellow brother in Christ, huh, sis?

F*%$ing Bitch.

And you know what, that’s not even what frosted my cookies so much. It was the fact that despite us having so many things in common, it all meant absolutely nothing to her. We were both Italian, we both loved 80s music, we both particularly loved Italian food, we were both Christians who had bad experiences in church and currently weren’t attending one, heck even our mothers had once been Catholic but became Protestant shortly after we were both born. The similarities kept going on and on from there.

But the big thing was her mentioning how she much of an introvert she was, and she felt nobody understood her because of it and how she felt so out of place in the world. It really touched me because that’s how I felt too and I thought for the first time in a long time, I might have finally found a kindred spirit here.

And then I learn this “introvert” has a social life that’s only slightly less busier than say, Scarlet Johannson’s. For someone who claims to be an introvert, she sure seemed pretty damned extroverted to me. Except in my case of course. Maybe that’s what she meant.

But, whatever. I deleted her off my IM list, putting this experience down as a hard lesson that I think has finally been learned. Most women don’t care about romance or friendship or companionship. They care about three things only: your looks, your wallet, and your personal sperm bank.

*Sigh* Back to the Rolling Stones…

I CAN’T GET NO!!

You know, it never fails that as soon as I join a dating site, I start getting deluged with “winks” and “nudges” from women (at least I think they’re women) who look like they could be the very reason why we have a worldwide food shortage.

Usually I respond in a polite manner, but now that the the evilness of women have pretty much stamped out whatever remaining charity I used to have, I kinda lost patience for this crap now.

The latest one to send me a wink hails from Michigan, employed under the prestigious title of a cashier, and who writes, “I define myself ultimately as a fun-loving girl who has a big heart.”

Yep, not to mention a Godzilla sized body to go with it.

I was in a good mood though, so I decided to write her a simple, polite note declining interest:

Dear Ugly All Day,

I’m sorry, you must have confused me for a blind man. I took a look at your photo but all I could see was a beached whale. Oh, that was you? Well then, here’s a little advice: if elevators can only go down when you step into one, that might be an indicator that you really shouldn’t upload pictures of yourself that will either induce violent seizures or cause permanent blindness. There are just some things in life we should never look directly at: one being the sun, and two being any photo that has you in it.

I’m thrilled to see though that at the tender age of 24, you’ve managed to work your way up from being a cashier to being… uh… a cashier. No doubt you intend to use the skills you’ve learned from working the cash machine to someday count your future husband’s money. Sadly though, I will not be that guy. For one thing, I would prefer that the experience of embracing the girl of my dreams not be equivalent to trying to hug a wrecking ball, but that’s just me.

So good luck to you, and who knows, maybe someday you’ll find a guy who doesn’t mind being with someone who’s able to set off tornadoes in the Midwest just by sneezing.

Much Love,

Lincoln

I had the cursor on the “Send” button, but just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Still too much of a nice guy I guess, but don’t worry, as women continue to piss me right the hell off with their cold hearted antics, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I become evil incarnate.