I’m guilty of being old.
In fact I’m so old that I’m a fading star.
I’m a complex man forever struggling to understand my self and the world that I live in. I can’t expect anyone else to simply understand me at face value when every thing that exists is a boiling misting cauldron of forever-mystery.
Lately I’ve pulled back from having sex. I’ve become a grass eater man going his own way. I just want everyone to stop bothering me.
Every time I get close to anyone that person inevitably expects herself to become my whole world. They expect my eyes to not be capable of seeing other vaginas. They expect me to magically transform into something that I never was, never could be, and never wanted to be.
Girls keep waiting and waiting for me to become so old and decrepit and useless that I’ll finally have no other option and have no choice but to “settle down”.
Even if I’m completely infirm and my cock can’t fill up with blood any more, I’ll still be a male. I’ll still be human. I’ll still have eyes. I’ll still be interested in more than one person.
Every single girl on the planet conspires to make it a crime to be male. To be human. To breath air.
I am not, can not, and will never be monogamous. Love comes and goes. Love is great. But it doesn’t last.
I’m guilty of being old. Any one who is old has cycled through multiple loves and lovers. The facts of life are an open secret. Love comes and goes. That’s great. You can’t pin your future onto love. Love is a balloon, that will pop. Balloons are great. But aren’t a plan for the future. They’re just balloons.
I can’t be anyone’s future. I’m just a balloon also.
You can’t own anyone. There is no infatuation strong enough, no girl beautiful enough or smart enough to not be a balloon.
We are all balloons are all popping all the time. Love doesn’t last. You can’t have a future on the boat of love. The boat ALWAYS sinks. Always.
It’s not even a boat.
It’s a balloon.
A lot of the talk about women in forums and spheres has been from the point of view of a relatively low value man trying to get with and maintain sexual lust/love with a girl. The stories are largely about how the girls are not really into the guy, and what can the guy do to change that.
Well it happens, often, in the reverse. That girls are way into a guy, and the guy just wants to have his freedom.
No guy wants to open his mouth. To let the secret out of the bag. If any man says the open secret the girls will conspire to not fuck him.
But we are all guys! We want to fuck! It’s nothing shameful! We have eyes. There is not only one human on the planet.
There never will be only one girl on the planet.
A friend came to visit me here in Indonesia. His lifestyle has greatly changed, and now he’s dating multiple young women. He has freedom and variety, and nobody is bothering him about who he is fucking.
I used to live like that. Not even that long ago.
But always always always as soon as you give an inch, the girls expect a mile. I give some attention and affection and then the next next thing you know girls want me to meet their parents and everybody is grilling me about marriage.
Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!Fuck off!
Jesus. I’d rather just masturbate than be owned by any individual.
Or their family. Or stupid collection of idiots known as “society”.
I am free.
I am the sun.
I can’t change.
I don’t want to change.
I never will change.
I’m guilty of breathing air.
Just like everyone else.
I’m guilty of the same open secret every one else is guilty of.
I will never not be what I am. I will always want to and try to fuck lots of girls. No matter what. Until I’m dead.
Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING can change that. Not love. Not any particular girl. Nothing.
I’m just sick and tired of it. You give an inch. Next thing you know the girl is wandering into your house without permission and leaving her cell phone charger as an excuse to check up on you.
Asking over and over about marriage.
Fuck! Why? What did I ever do to lead the person on? I am what I am! That’s it! Nothing else.