Pretend You Can’t See Her

It’s another night of unrest. Another night of playing this inter-gender game of chess called romance. You flip and turn restlessly thinking about whether or not you made the right play.

You tell yourself that it’s no big deal if you lose her because there will be always be more women. It’s true. But it’s not her.. you wanna eat every fruit in the bowl and that one slipped from your grip.

The missed potential is burned in the back of your mind and phantom pain creeps in every once in a while to send shockwaves through your testicles.

In a perfect world, there would be no games. You tell her you want to spend your lives together. Or maybe you tell her she’s beautiful and charming but you can’t commit and just want to keep things casual. And she would accept it for what it is. No ego. No being left on read or loss of attraction to worry about. Just taking things at face value.

You could tell her in detail about how you wish to cuddle with her during those cold winter nights with a hand between her thighs and her face resting on your broad chest.

Her smiling satisfied face covered in your semen and your itchy beard drenched in her lady juice. You’re both in love. For the rest of your lives. For the night. Whatever.

But it ain’t a perfect world. Instead we fuck around.. we time our DM responses so we don’t seem needy. We tease, mock and refuse to answer anything honestly because we are afraid of being hurt. No one wants to admit how badly they want each other.

I still think about that canceled wine date with….

I still think about that alternative chick I could have vibed to Nirvana with after I blow her back out….

I still think about the crazy girl that sent me nudes that I never got to meet up because I pissed her off….

I still think about that girl I message here and there but can’t find the nutsack to be upfront with….

So I just pretend I don’t see her. Pretend I don’t miss her.

We live in a HOMOgenized society

It’s a Sunday Monday.

You wake up at 7:30 am, you slept like shit the night before and you barely get any morning wood anymore. You curse your maker and go take your piss with a hobo-ish limp because you’re still hungover from binge drinking cheap supermarket vodka for no apparent reason.

You stumble into the kitchen to see your shitty children. Your son who is a skinny little twerp with a face not even a mother could love from excessive soy consumption is eating a tofu omlette. Your daughter who is the town whore just finished taking her lame morning selfie for Instagram so 20 year old horndogs can beat off to her and send her cum tributes.

The wife is on her phone, you approach to give her a kiss and she pushes you away because you smell like dog semen and did not brush your yellow rotten teeth. She goes back to texting her Ethiopian lover you don’t know about because you are retarded.

It’s now 9:20 am.

You are on your way to work. You are stuck in traffic. Hopelessly puffing on cigarettes to ease your anxiety. Your therapist who is addicted to coke told you to quit but you never fucking listen. You contemplate jumping into the highway and committing suicide.

You don’t.

It’s 1:30 pm.

You finish your day of work a little early. Good for you, fuckhead. You are probably tired of sitting in a broken chair everyday in a cubicle designed according to the whims of some soulless corporate overlords.

You pack up your briefcase and leave the office to make your way home. On the way out you see some ugly dykes with shaved hair and their fat pink Mohawk having “male” friends, they point at you and laugh while lamenting on how lame and dumb it is to be an office working white man. They are also white but don’t work. You sigh and enter the car. Gas is empty. Damn.

4:00 pm.

You go back home. Finally. You have the rest of the day to yourself.

You can vaguely hear noise coming from upstairs. It’s just your hoe daughter fingering herself for OnlyFans. No big deal. Sex work is normal now.

You take a Xanny and turn on ESPN hoping to chill out. Your wife comes home with papers. What? Oh shit. The divorce papers. Today is the day. Fuck, how did you forget?

You try to convince her you should stay together but she won’t have it. She wants to be with Abraham. He is diverse, richer and knows how to facefuck her unlike you. He also has a six pack and steady access to steroid drug kingpins.

You finally cave in and sign the papers. You tell her you still love her. She says she never loved you in the first place. She leaves the house because her new man called her over to fuck.

You wipe your tears and go to bed. You wish you could beat her boyfriends ass and win her back. Suddenly you are filled with ancient rage and a desire to transform your miserable fucking life. You contemplate finally dieting, kicking your kids out and shooting the black lovers head off.

But you don’t. The Xanny kicked in and you fell asleep after jerking off. You have some jizz residue on your lips. You kill yourself the next day.

This is society.