This statement was delivered to me by one of my friends. From his tone, it was obvious that he had been considering it for sometime.
“Oh?” I said. “What’s that?”
“You should date hotter girls.”
This right here is why I love my friends. He said it to me like he genuinely believed it never dawned on me to date hot women before. And I don’t think that he was implying that my exes were ugly, but to him the solution for my problems was easy: unhappy? Date more attractive girls. I thanked him for his input and assured him that I would do my damndest to comply.
After some reflection, I’ve decided that an easier way might be to start drinking more so that women just appear more attractive. And hey, if that means I have to stay drunk for the next 50 years of my life, so be it. Because honestly, me with a ridiculously hot chick would be a pain in the ass. It’d be her walking around and everyone asking who the fuck that 15-year-old with her is.
Sure I could say, “I’m the kid that’s hung like a black porno walrus.” I’m sure a lot of people would ask “what exactly is the difference between a porno walrus and a regular walrus?” Come on, you think all those walruses they film mating on the discovery channel are just “average?” It’s all a fantasy.
“Oh baby, I love it! Slap my tail! Spit seaweed in my mustache! Call me a whore!”
Worst job in show-business: walrus porn fluffer.
Where was I? Oh yeah, hot chicks.
See the problem is that hot girls get hit on so frequently that their standards for men are much higher. And it’s not that I can’t get a hot girl…it just takes a lot more work. Because I’ll admit it: I’m not a handsome man. I’m cute, but certainly nothing that stands out in a crowd. In order to get a girl I need time.
Usually my “seduction” of women occurs over a course of days or weeks. She resists initially, but through a series of psychological torments and mind-fucks, I break her like a torture victim. At first I’m repellent, but eventually I grow on women like a fungus. And with roughly the same aesthetic effect. Basically, my only hope for romance relies on Stockholm syndrome.
What I need is a hot girl with a learning disability, head-trauma, or heroine addiction. And really, who wants to deal with the day-to-day hassle of teaching her to read, wiping saliva, or testing for Hep C?
Therefore, I’ve decided I need to drink more. Because the drunker I get, the hotter girls become. My plans for the night involve two gallons of wine and that homeless girl who lives under the overpass.
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