I asked a woman out today

I asked D. to the movies. Yes, D. from the “hand on my thigh” post. She said the coolest thing. Well, no, not the coolest thing. The coolest thing would have been “yes.”

So um, yeah. She said the oth­er thing. The two let­ter word whose sec­ond let­ter is “o” and whose sec­ond-to-last let­ter is “n”.

But I real­ly appre­ci­ate it. I’ve been in sit­u­a­tions where I’d dis­cov­ered a cou­ple months into a rela­tion­ship that the only thing that made me attrac­tive to the oth­er per­son was that I was attract­ed to her. I’ve been on both sides of that par­tic­u­lar fence, of course, and I know that some­one being attract­ed to me often over­comes all obsta­cles, includ­ing my lack of attrac­tion for any rea­son oth­er than that. I mean, it’s nice to be want­ed, you know? So I try not to put too much judg­ment on it, but I’ve been hurt by peo­ple who had no busi­ness being in a rela­tion­ship with me because they were only with me because they want­ed to be wanted.

God, that’s just too con­vo­lut­ed. But I have a big resent­ment against women and soci­ety because being male is a trap. It’s the boy’s job to make all the moves and take all the risks. Add this to the zil­lions of women out there whose self-esteem is so dam­aged that just being attract­ed to them makes them want to be in a rela­tion­ship, and you have a recipe for disaster.

So, OK. I asked her out, and she said no. I’m dis­ap­point­ed, obvi­ous­ly, but I have a lit­tle more faith in women for it. That’s kin­da cool.

Heh. Peo­ple tell me that rejec­tion is God’s pro­tec­tion. Per­son­al­ly, I pre­fer con­doms. Haw Haw. Every­one laugh now. Any­way, ulti­mate­ly, rejec­tion is God’s way of telling me to get my ass into the gym.

Actu­al­ly, my pants being too fuck­ing tight is God’s way of telling me to get my ass into the gym. If I can fit it through the door.

OK, it’s late. I got­ta sleep. lat­erz, y’all.