Okay, so I’m out with Ben the other night, who, I might add, is the God of the house in that no woman can withstand his manliness for more than a few minutes without falling in love with him and that no man can dislike him simply because he is too nice, and we went to Wendy’s. Good trip. Come back, and there’s this girl waiting for Ben. Outside. In the cold. I couldn’t believe that he has women lining up like this. I shook my head and went to where it’s warm, while silently crying inside. This is when it hit me that I have lost all hope of any real relationship. Now, mind you, this may not be such a bad thing. Having many anonymous partners while occasionally dabbling in inebriation may sound like a good thing, but I’ll tell you, it’s not the best thing in the world by any stretch … [priss mode] in fact, the lack of emotional fulfillment just gets me down [/priss mode]. But that’s neither here nor there, because I supplant my lack of female real-luvin with doing exceedingly well in every other area of my life. I mean, shit, look at Huge TV, or the receiver, the nice place, the unending “I am sOo great” … serious, I couldn’t ask for more. Besides maybe a real date. On that note, I was talking to an anonymous female reader, and she tells me that when it comes to men, it’s like she’s walking through a pumpkin patch. Oh, look, a nice pumpkin. I’ll rate this one a 7. Walks along some more … Oh Look! A better pumpkin [promptly rips all vital organs from original pumpkin and fillets them and feeds them to her dog while cackling mercilessly] and then picks up Pumpkin B, which is a 7.9 … walking along, finds a really good pumpkin. Promptly throws Pumpkin B down on the ground and jumps up and down repeatedly, smashing any hopes for Pumpkin B ever having anyone pick his pitiful, sorry ass up, and then picks up Pumpkin C, which is a 9, and says, “Wow, 9 is pretty high.” But nOo, she doesn’t go home, happy with her uber-good 9-rated pumpkin. Nope, just keeps patrolling the patch, looking for that ellusive 10 pumpkin. And when she finds it, poor Pumpkin C is going to have his luscious, golden exterior split into tiny shards by her heart-wrenching, soul-killing, disdain. And this kind of shit is wrong. So all you bitches out there need to stop being so goddamn picky. At least when it comes to me. I may be a 2 or a 3, but dammit, when you’re done using me for pumpkin pie, don’t step on what’s left. Have you ever done something that you figured would land you in hot water and kind of destroy everything that you thought you had going with someone, yet it didn’t really do anything at all, besides make you wonder ‘what the fuck is going on?’ I have, and I’ll tell you, it’s pretty cool. For example, the fight with co-worker Jack not too long ago. Real Effects? None. This kind of thing has happened a couple times in the past month or so … pretty weird.