Why It Is So Easy To Hate You

This quote has been referenced many times, by me, in this blog – and by many others. Screw you – here it is again:

What if this young woman, who writes such bad poems, in competition with her husband, whose poems are equally bad, should stretch her remarkably long and well-made legs out before you, so that her skirt slips up to the tops of her stockings?

Gilbert Sorrentino, Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things, (1971)

In being asked why I do not believe in romantic love (for myself, I do not speak for anyone else) by a certain chicken-shit fellow I know, the best I could come up with is “I’ll believe it when I see it”. Certainly I love my children, I love my mother and sisters, and I love my friends. Certainly I have had many obsessive and unhealthy crushes on (asshats) men, but I cannot say that I have ever seen, nor been in, love.

Comma comma commas abound! COMMA!

The reason for the quote above is to illustrate the old-school way women could compete with men. If it is women they want, it is assumed that the woman ultimately has the upper-hand. A cheap ploy, for sure – but what woman in seeking to attract that certain someone has not employed such a device as this?

Before you all chime in and scream “WELL I NEVER HAVE!!!!!” first really think about it and quit lying to yourself, shitbags. Flirting and sexuality are two very important aspects of the stupid charade of femininity. Eyelashes bat, hair is flipped, lips are moistened – and then – shudder – regrets. You wasted it all on another jackass.

This is where I am, now. Too many jackasses, and I am the number one offender. Flirting is a natural thing for me, comes from waitressing in sleazy bars with sleazy customers. Gasp! Maybe I flirted before then, but nothing comes to mind except embarrassed stammering and secret longings.

So, I read old books and watched old movies. Katherine Hepburn and Vivien Leigh served as my role-models in the art of attracting the opposite sex. The rest I learned by gauging the reactions of others to my attempts of seduction. Even with all the extra help, I am still terrible at it. Or rather, I am terrible about the part where I should consider the feelings of the men I am flirting with, and how they may not appreciate my efforts, or they may be appreciated too much. Alas, I cannot turn it off without isolating myself from the world completely (which would be awesome if I could!).

So, get over it. Means nothing. Just a habit.

About me

I am great.
This entry was posted in Death, Lies, Nonsense, Sex, Stress, The Only Shit That Means Anything and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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