in my younger years I used to obsess much about impressing girls. My mental state was contingent on some girl’s mood. A delayed/ignored text would send me into depression.
these days i’ve got ice running through my veins. I’ve approached hundreds – thousands, even – of girls and been rejected by a still greater number, to the point where I’ve become desensitized. I’ve undressed and smashed so many chics. I’ve inhaled their best – and worst – odours.
it’s come to the point where I’m indifferent to the whole seduction fracas. I’m no longer willing to play monkey for women’s entertainment. I no longer make any effort, except getting the girls’ numbers.
the more indifferent i appear, the more they seem to desire me.
or maybe i’m maturing. Perhaps these are the contemplations of old age.
these days i no longer give a shit about chics. There comes a time in a man’s life when he learns to be stingy with his affections. You learn to bestow it on those who’ve inspired it by their long devotion.
Feeling generous? send that money to your ageing parents. They might be needing it.
Feeling like paying your girlfriend’s rent? Send the money to your sister instead.
Feel like buying your chic a pair of shoes? When did you last get something nice for yourself?
I’m approaching 30. If I didn’t know what I now know, I’d be contemplating marriage. Saa hii marriage is the last thing on my mind. A life of responsibility and commitment to a woman who spent her prime years getting passed around? count me out.
Even if a girl is a virgin, still count me out.
The only thing I want from a girl is sex. The rest I learnt to take care of by myself.
My time, attention, and money will be spent on myself and my immediate family members. I don’t owe some random hoe anything.
