This is going to be a series........ Comment on my blog, lazy ass!
Women hate me!
Yes, I’m fairly certain that women, unless they are either bisexual or lesbian, hate me. I’m not going to use that tired little cliché “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” because the truth is there are a million more women out there, more beautiful than I. So… why am I a threat?
When I was young, I was rapidly immersed in a world of nasty sneers and comments, and the knowledge that I would never fit in with the other chicks. “Since I was young, I tasted sorrow on the tongue” (sorry Korn is playing and seemed appropriate). Though I had a vagina, this was apparently not the only criteria for belonging to the club.
I had no desire to sit around and plan a fucking dream wedding complete with miles of tulle and white chocolate marzipan. Nor did I have any interest in writing poetry about puppies and rainbows. I didn’t believe in fairies. I didn’t live in that female hormone induced chimera of “happily ever after”. I thought G.I. Joe, He-man, and Rocky were the shit. She-ra was just a dirty whore, posing as “tough chick“. The Little Ponies, I was convinced, were the product of a crack whore’s imagination gone public.
Safe to say, I was more comfortable with the guys. I’m not sure if I was born with a “male mentality“… or I’m just the product of my father’s wishes for a first born son. No matter, skateboarding, climbing trees, learning what bugs tasted like… that was cool. When I got older, those interested and talents expanded to include home repair (I can fix almost anything in a house), sports (street hockey was my favorite… of course I insisted a “no rules” rule. I suffered a broken tooth, many bruises, and a black eye- but I had FUN) and shooting (I grew up with a nice little artillery supply including : AK47, .9mm, .45mm, SKS, Garand, and a few shot guns). I fit in with the guys…
I had little patience for the gaggles of gossiping and giggling girls. I was born without the mysterious gene that causes women to: converge in the bathroom by groups of 15, consume only salads at a steakhouse, and insist on dragging grown men to a chick flick for some “quality time”. I may have the girlie plumbing, but I hang with the guys. These are the same guys you petty women are trying to trap in a dead end marriage, or otherwise prosaic relationship.
I can change my own oil AND walk in stilettos …………… I’m closer to the guys in your life than you are………and this is my first sin against The Vagina Population.
