I'm feeling ambitious. So here's the first part - of a three episode story - about the various methods of earning pussy points. Some are the result of intense self reflection, commonly induced by alcoholic overdose or self loathing (same difference actually), while others are wry observations of what guys do.
Disclaimer: I love all men and this is merely me in bitch mode. Any reference to persons dead, alive, impotent or overweight is purely coincidental. By the way, those four adjectives describe me most accurately, so read on, only if you intend not to take offense.
I've always joked about this imaginary scale that I have. One end is labeled "the Brother" while the other extreme is "the Sleazy Bastard". All men occupy this scale, from one end of the spectrum to the other - and all points in between - at various times in their lives.
The Brother refers to guys who are adamant about portraying themselves as loving, caring, bible reading; responsible dudes who will hold open a lift until all the girls are safely inside. He then does a head count and if one little lamb is missing, he expresses enough concern to make his temple veins bulge. He's also the hapless driver, ferrying young ladies who haven't got transportation to and from their homes to church to lunch to 1-Utama to God-only-cares where else.
This is stupid. If ever you get labeled as the Brother, especially by the girl you want, that means there isn't a spark of sexual interest whatsoever. In other words, you're great for when she needs to talk because you offer a comforting voice. But after a nite out in town, she'd rather spend time tossing a salad whose main ingredient is cucumber - than invite you in for a coffee.
The Sleazy Bastard on the other hand - has more than once - wrote 'yes please' on a form that asks for him for his sex. He fancies himself a ladies man, able to sneak past even the toughest defences. A recent Men's Health sex survery put it at four dates, before the average Malaysian girl will sleep with a man. Sleazy Bastard says he can do it in half the time, while exfoliating scabs off his knob. No doubt he seems smooth with the girls, but in the end, they aren't much more than juicy pieces of steak he enjoys marinating to perfection, before he has his fill.
No one can tell the SB he's an arse - its just incomprehensable to him. I mean, he's getting down with the ladies isn't he? How much more to life can there be?! He's the kinda guy that needs to get burnt at his own game before he realises anything. Maybe he meets the one girl he truly wants but cannot have. Maybe she gets used and tossed aside by someone else while he watches. He usually ends up hating himself (now i'm only partially talking about myself, huey).
Sad to say, I've spent more time on either extreme than I have at equilibrium. Yes, yes, point your grubby fingers my way - nobody's perfect. All I'm reminded about is how much more meaningful it is, when God accepts us from where we stand. We're all works in progress, so in my next entry, I'll let you know what my definition of equilibrium means.
=)
