Now lets look at the following problem, well it is problem for someone, for others not.
I consider that it will be interesting for you to know some other viewpoint maybe not so diferent from yours, but better explained :) I found this post in a page whitch is very strange but interesting. It's
URL.
So here's the content:
"The age-old myth that girls like assholes is bogus. Girls don’t “like” assholes. Girls love assholes, in the same way that guys love guns and fast cars. It’s a power/control thing. Girls use assholes as target practice for their skills of manipulation and seduction. Defeating assholes is a hobby for girls. It’s a game to them. They find an asshole and do whatever slutty behavior is necessary to break down his defenses and cause him to surrender to her bidding in the name of lust.
Sometimes you hear about a girl falling for an asshole. That’s because the girl fails to tear down his asshole shield. So, like the stubborn person she is, she refuses to surrender in a fleeting attempt to change him. Eventually she gets bored of his prick facade and falls in love with him because she has nothing better to do. Around that time, he loses the mystery, she no longer gets turned on by him, he’s no longer attracted to her because she keeps trying to fucking change him, and her little game ends in a stale mate. As in, the mating gets stale. Then hopefully they both die in a car wreck.
My friend told me about a New Years Eve get together last Sunday. When I arrived, I entered the house, scanned the room for the hottest girl. I approached her and blurted out, “Excuse me, what do you want?” She said, “What?” I replied, “You look like a bug.” Then I went to the refrigerator and got a beer.
She came to me a few seconds later and asked, “What did you say to me?” I said, “What’s your name?” She said, “Cecelia.” I replied, “Ceceilia? God I hate that name. It reminds me of cilia. That’s fucking disgusting. You’re fucking disgusting.” I grabbed another beer and walked into the living room.
I don’t want to come off like a badass. I’m a geeky guy, and by no means suave or intimidating in any way. It’s worse than you’d expect. Put it this way - you could put sunglasses on a sickly bullemic dwarfed out carwash attendant and he’d be more badass looking than me.
Anyway, that was the first phase of the party. I remember it very clearly . But the next part is hazy in my memory. It was something like - I drank two liters of table wine and then something about a giant dog and people serving exotic cheese to trusafarians.
I was in the living room dancing to strange sounds. I think it was country music or something. I haven’t heard country in so long, I forgot what it sounds like, but I’m sure it was country if I was drunk enough to dance to it.
I had won. I was an Old-Navy-head-tilt receiving studly winner. We started dancing together and it was awesome. Partially because she had good rhythm, but also because I was drunk enough to imagine her naked without getting turned on and dealing with the whole ‘dancing with an erection’ conundrum. While we danced, we made stupid idle drunk chit chat. Then she leaned into me and spoke in a sexy whimper, “I want you to stop being mean.” Unfortunately, between the overload of wine in my belly mixed with the excitement about the ball licking agenda, I had completely forgotten to be an asshole.
I smiled and mumbled something along the lines of, “Sorry it’s [drunken blabber] pretty girl and [drunken blabber] get nervous around [almost puke].” She laughed and repeated the head tilt thing, which, by the way, got really fucking old pretty quick. And I don’t mean ‘pretty’ in a nice way. Girls, if you’re into the head tilt, please don’t do it more than twice, max. God that’s annoying. Anyway, it was nice to be reassured of my champion womanizer status. It’s like we were playing Monopoly and she landed on Ventnor Ave. with eight hotels. I thought she was about to mortgage all her railroads and suck my Baltics when as unexpectedly as she had entered my life, she vanished.
That’s it. She walked away like a girl that had just been released from six months of juvenile detention. Looking back, I believe there was a smile, a head tilt, and she said, “You’re a very interesting person.” Then a few more lametarded head tilts and she walked away. It was horrible.
I was helpless to her barrage of puckering smiles and slow, squinty-eyed hip jives. She defeated me without any problem. I felt as if I had just played Pictionary against Van Gogh. Her attack of whorpedos left me defenseless, lonely, and dancing alone in the corner. How pathetic is that? Crying in the shadows while doing the robot to Toby Kieth. She had broken my heart in the length of time it takes Shania Twain to justify her non-codependence of men. "
I hope you did enjoy that.
Bye, c ya soon!
