There comes a point where coffee tastes bad.

This has nothing to do with that, but it has something to do with taste.
Let’s get something out of the way here, I’ve not had sex in nearly two years.
Yes, this might be the thing we’re talking about here, my lack of penis in vagina activity.
Nope, no regrets.
I’m not going to go off, fuck it, yes I am, because in my self love journey, I’ve been to some strange as fuck place, and… I dunno how I feel about the whole thing.
The sex part, when I was having it regularly, was amazing? I dunno. I only ever finished once, and that took an amazing amount of time, and a lot of focus.
Yes, I’m an easily distracted sex machine.
No, you can’t plug your phone in my ass to charge it.
Yes, I’m very well aware that’s a kind of fetish.
No, I do no want to receive “The Power of Zues” through my ass.
No, I’m not into that kind of thing.
Look, point being, I need to get laid, but in this day and age where any attempt to either get some or get love is a frightening ordeal, because, at any point point, either you or that one super bitchy girlfriend of yours can just up and claim I’m harassing you. The very moment I detect something off, that’s it, I’m cutting myself off from talking to you, and will only engage if absolutely needed.
Now, I know how to treat women with respect, I know how to behave myself, and would much rather things develop organically as opposed to, “Well, time to fuck and see what happens.” Being a guy now a days is… to be honest, a confusing experience in everyway possible.

The basis of the Metoo movement is to make sexual assaulters pay dearly for their crimes against whatever gender their creepy little mitts are wriggling towards. That’s it, and then for a long while, it seemed like every guy was fair game, and men bounded through the tall grass like majestic walruses, “OORPH”ing their way towards a better and brighter future, only to be stopped in t heir tracks by a false claim of grabbin’ some boob.
And trust me, I get it, I truly do, Y’all have put up with enough of guys weird bullshit from the dawn of time, and the damn finally burst, and men were like, “Oh…. Well fuck.”
Now that the tables have turned, so is the dating scene steps, where it’s usually the women who have to initiate Ye Ol’ Dating Ritual.

Which, hey, more power to you.
It’s just a terrifying, scary, nightmarish, and dick shriveling level of anxiety that gets built up into the core of men’s souls wondering whether or not they should go ahead and make a move on Susie Sunshine or be left in the cold icy grip of the Night King, otherwise known as whacking off.
And let’s talk about that for a second, really. Because now there’s a law in Texas, about to pass, that states that men are legally not allowed to whack off, on the premise that it’s killing unconceived children. So, our physiological need to expel built up waste is now under attack in Texas.
Because, really, that’s all that is if it’s not being used to make babies, waste.  Like, really?

I get it, the reproductive rights of women in terms of abortion has been a hotbed of WTF for a long time, with them main question of the debate being, “When does life begin? At the moment of conception, or the moment of birth?”

Well, my answer is this: Until the heart fully develops and starts pumping and the brain develops to the point where the growth stops being a growth and starts being a little human, that exact moment is when life begins. Of course, I have no authority over what women do with their bodies, I can only give my thoughts on the matter and leave it at that.

Anyways, getting back to what I was talking about, dating…. Actually, it’s around 2:27 and I’ve got to get ready for the day.

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