I want to share a personal tale that takes a lurid look at the collective male ego's pathetic attempt to buoy above survival when trying to win over the woman of its dreams.
Thus far, I have shared this story only with a few close friends.
To be completely honest
I feel almost bashful sharing it with you.
Yet this story is so important to your development that I'm willing to swallow my pride a bit.
When I was fifteen I went to high school with a guy who claimed he was dating a teen model.
Not being the coolest cat in the litter box, he went out of his way to prove to everyone that he was "actually dating her": he cut out pictures in magazines of her, and even made up stories about the two of them making monkey love.
Everyone mercilessly teased him, seeing through his transparent lies.
In a sad attempt at regaining the smattering of respect people had for him, he promised everyone that she would attend his birthday party.
I ended up going to his party just to prove to myself that this girl was a figment of his imagination.
Long story short, she was real and even more stunning in person. Her cold-as-ice personality sat behind an angelic face draped with blond locks and decorated with piercing green eyes. A skinny cigarette nestled between two of her long fingers. I was in love.
Birthday boy, however, was not "actually" dating her. In fact, she wanted nothing to do with him.
I ended up sleeping with her - that was the good news.
There was, however, a catch: She had a boyfriend.
She let me know that although she enjoyed fooling around with me, she would never break up with her boyfriend for me. This fret a wound deep within my heart.
Then she poured verbal rubbing alcohol on my open wound by telling me that I did not fit the quota for her "ideal man".
Then she carped, "You don't act romantic, buy me gifts, or listen to my problems. I refuse to be with a guy who doesn't do these things."
The feeling was worse than having your nether regions stretched like a foot of flesh colored taffy.
Did I run as fast as I could from this little ice princess?
No - instead, like a trained seal, I attempted to live up to her "be my little lapdog" standards.
Did I end up winning her heart?
Nope.
When I reached the brink of her high standards, she raised the bar.
Guess what?
I felt even more attracted to her and tried even harder.
The harder I tried, the less attraction she felt for me.
Don't do what I did unless your sexual preference rhymes with May. Or you're a masochist.
Thus far, I have shared this story only with a few close friends.
To be completely honest
I feel almost bashful sharing it with you.
Yet this story is so important to your development that I'm willing to swallow my pride a bit.
When I was fifteen I went to high school with a guy who claimed he was dating a teen model.
Not being the coolest cat in the litter box, he went out of his way to prove to everyone that he was "actually dating her": he cut out pictures in magazines of her, and even made up stories about the two of them making monkey love.
Everyone mercilessly teased him, seeing through his transparent lies.
In a sad attempt at regaining the smattering of respect people had for him, he promised everyone that she would attend his birthday party.
I ended up going to his party just to prove to myself that this girl was a figment of his imagination.
Long story short, she was real and even more stunning in person. Her cold-as-ice personality sat behind an angelic face draped with blond locks and decorated with piercing green eyes. A skinny cigarette nestled between two of her long fingers. I was in love.
Birthday boy, however, was not "actually" dating her. In fact, she wanted nothing to do with him.
I ended up sleeping with her - that was the good news.
There was, however, a catch: She had a boyfriend.
She let me know that although she enjoyed fooling around with me, she would never break up with her boyfriend for me. This fret a wound deep within my heart.
Then she poured verbal rubbing alcohol on my open wound by telling me that I did not fit the quota for her "ideal man".
Then she carped, "You don't act romantic, buy me gifts, or listen to my problems. I refuse to be with a guy who doesn't do these things."
The feeling was worse than having your nether regions stretched like a foot of flesh colored taffy.
Did I run as fast as I could from this little ice princess?
No - instead, like a trained seal, I attempted to live up to her "be my little lapdog" standards.
Did I end up winning her heart?
Nope.
When I reached the brink of her high standards, she raised the bar.
Guess what?
I felt even more attracted to her and tried even harder.
The harder I tried, the less attraction she felt for me.
Don't do what I did unless your sexual preference rhymes with May. Or you're a masochist.
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