I swear that if I wasn’t sexually attracted to girls that I’d be gay. At least guys make sense most the time.
First off, girls just talk way too much. When you’re with your other girlfriends, go ahead and talk about whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care. But why exactly do you think that I care about the kind of day that your sisters co-workers dog had? Your sister is nice enough, but I don’t know her co-worker and I certainly don’t know her dog. So why the fuck are you telling me this story? I don’t care! If you have something worth talking about, then I can enjoy engaging you in a meaningful conversation. But before you start talking to me about some of the inane frivolous shit that you talk to your girlfriends about, first ask yourself “Does this have a point?”. Because if it doesn’t I’m just going to smile, and nod, and zone out and you’ll get mad because I’m not listening to your retarded shit!
Stop over complicating everything. There isn’t an ulterior motive or hidden meaning in every other sentance. Unless, I suppose, it’s coming out of the mouth of another woman. Because you ladies never can seem to say what you actually mean. You have this weird secret code that you love to try and crack and expect us guys to be able to get in on your stupid game. Guys aren’t like that. Rarely rarely RARELY will you ever have to figure out what a guy is actually saying. We say what we mean. Girls have such a skewed sense of logic that this simple concept is often lost on them. When you go searching for some deeper meaning that isn’t there, you’re just committing to an act of futility. In the end you wind up making up some bullshit and believing that it must be true and acting on that false reality and making a mess of something for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re in-fucking-sane.
Stop getting upset at guys for trying to help solve your problems. That’s what guys do. You present us with a problem, we’re going to try and fix it. It’s in our fucking nature. I know it’s in your nature to want to talk about everything, but if you’re going to bring up your problems to a guy, expect that he’s going to try and do something about it or give you advice. Women always bitch that guys don’t listen. It’s not that we don’t listen, we just don’t understand why you’re bringing up your problems if you don’t want us to do something about it. We’re not as empathetic as your girlfriends, so if you want empathy, go to them. Likewise, if guys have a problem, they’ll probably only bring it up if they need help or advice. Many women will bitch that guys don’t talk enough. It’s not that guys don’t talk, it’s just that your empathy doesn’t help solve our problems when we do talk.
One of the most insanely frustrating things about women is the constant reassurance. No, you’re not fat. If you were fat you wouldn’t be able to fit into that size 2 dress. And yes, you look good. Guys wouldn’t be giving you free shit if you were ugly. (There’s an ulterior fucking motive for you. Hint: They’re not giving you free stuff just to be sweet.) It’s so frustrating having to constantly answer those questions, only to not be believed. It’s like trying to convince someone that the sky is blue. You’re not blind, you’re not even color blind. You can see that the sky is blue. Yet you continue to ask what color the sky is. I tell you it’s blue. I know that you know what color blue is. And even though I’ve told you that the sky is blue about fifty-million times, you still have to ask because…I don’t know…maybe it’s not blue today. The sky is fucking blue goddammit! You’re not fucking fat! You’re not fucking ugly! You know it, I know it, everyone fucking knows it!
And fuck all you ultra-hot girls that bitch about the most retarded things. Yeah, all men are fucking pigs because they stare at your boobs. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re wearing a skin tight low cut shirt that has ‘Bebe’ printed across your boobs… one ‘Be’ per boob. It’s totally unfair that you have to put up with guys staring at you all the time just because you like to look sexy. And boo hoo, it’s so hard for you to meet a nice guy. Well actually it isn’t, because the shoulder your crying on belongs to a nice guy. He’s the one that puts up with all your stupid shit. And yet you some how end up with all the assholes. I’m sure that it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re holding out for a six foot tall alpha-male fire fighter with a trust fund.
And finally, yay for you. You sold a freezer to some eskimos. Congratulations on being the hot sales rep. We’re all very proud of you for being able to have a nice ass while the rest of us actually have to work for a living. And we’re all so excited to see your new diamond jewelry. Your ability to date another rich fucktard that will shower you with expensive bobbles is commendable. And I’ll be so surprised and sorry for you when he dumps you for the next hot girl. Because I really thought that materialistic trophy bagger was in love with you. But I’m happy to hear that you wrecked your fifth car while multi-tasking between your cell phone and doing your make up in the mirror. Your dedication to enforcing the stereotype of women drivers is nothing short of awe inspiring. And you’re right, I was being a shallow douchebag when I commented on the hotness of Eva Longoria. So lets go see that movie where Johnny Depp makes out with Orlando Bloom on Brad Pitts abs. I know you’ve been dying to see that one.
Girls…you piss me the fuck off. You do stupid shit and manage to get away with it. You can be the most annoying idiots in the world. Your sense of logic and common sense seems to be a rare gift rather than a common trait. And yet I’m uncontrollably attracted to you. And that’s quite possibly the most frustrating thing of all.
