Love on Wheelz

Part of having little to no social life means that I don’t interact much with girls my own age. Over the years, I’ve watched other guys flirt and talk to them, but I never learned how to do it myself. I mean, I understand on an intellectual level what to do, but I’m incapable of following through in practice. I’m like a brainy QB with none of the necessary physical talents. I know what to do and how to do it, but on the field I can’t perform.
My emotions take over. I lock up because I have to say the perfect thing. There is pressure to be incredibly funny, entertaining and smart at every moment to compensate for every one of my physical shortcomings. I know it’s unreasonable, but no one ever said feelings were reasonable.

I can’t compete with regular guys. I can’t hug a girl, can’t kiss or caress her. I’m not able to do any of that without her doing it to me. How am I supposed to keep a girl satisfied? I see guys come up behind girls and grab them by the waist or pick them up to make them giggle and laugh. I will never be able to do that. I’m missing out on a significant part of being human and it affects me in a big way.
I just got done messaging twelve girls on a dating website. Then I went on Craigslist Casual Encounters and e-mailed three “girls”. Unsurprisingly, they were all fake. I’ve hit rock bottom and can’t take it anymore. I’m at the end of the line. I cried. It has never gotten to the point of crying before.
I’ve never had sex and I’ve never had an orgasm. I can’t masturbate. Sexual frustration is a perpetual state that cannot be fixed in the ways other people fix it. The littlest things tend to piss me off, like people asking me if I’m mad or poking me. The truth is, I don’t know if my irritability is a symptom of my frustrations or if it really is a part of my persona.
I can’t tell my angst from the real me — whether my creativity comes from this or if it’s an intrinsic trait. I’ve wondered lately if I’d lose my edge if I had a… umm… release. Would my essence be permanently altered? Like those natives who believe that you lose a little part of your soul every time you have your picture taken, except the picture is jizz.
At the same time, I can’t keep on like this. It’s not normal or natural. Most boys are molesting themselves by 6th grade, some even before that. I remember starting to realize that certain things felt better than others, but not to the extent where I did something about it. Partly because I lost the strength to do it and partly because I was a little distracted trying to survive.
When my friends were jerking it to their dad’s porn stash, I was having life saving surgery. When they were going to parties and talking to girls, I was having life saving surgery.
I can’t even enjoy porn anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing the naked women, but after a few seconds it gets painful. Not physically painful mind you, but more a tormenting desperate feeling. Resisting the biological urge to jerk off in order to release pent-up stress, now that’s traumatic.
I have this growing reservoir of frustration and energy with no way to relieve it. I often feel the desire to scream or run or punch people. I imagine that if I could walk I would be into MMA or boxing. It’s not fair that everyone has ways of dealing with their anger and I don’t. Writing helps, but it’s not the immediate release I need.
So it’s come to this. I want a girlfriend and I’m turning to the internet. I realize this may not be the best idea. And I’m pretty sure I will regret it, but fuck it. There are well over six billion people on the planet, and over 300 million in the US alone. The odds are in my favor. I can’t be the only person that’s looking for companionship. I still have a little bit of hope that there’s a girl who’ll look past the chair.
Any female readers that would be interested in meeting me, I have a winning personality, gorgeous blue eyes and rocking body. Plus, I’m in touch with my feelings. My mom says I’m a catch. I can also stop and start my pee mid-stream, my penis is quite strong. If you’re single, interested and have a vagina then e-mail me. To quote The Beatles, I just want someone to love.

This entry was posted on May 8, 2009 at 3:13 pm and is filed under Blog. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.