I spent my entire young adult life chasing women. Oh, some were goddesses. They radiated sexuality and the curves of their bodies hinted at what would be possible if you just put a little more effort into reaching that hallowed ground. Some weren’t that special but try telling me that then. I followed them like a lost puppy dog. Reason and self-control went through the window. I sank below them and become a guideless hermaphrodite. I put the girls on a pedestal while devoting one hundred percent of my energy on them. I fell into a trap. I wasted my time.
I remember Amber like it was yesterday. She was the aloof girl that all the guys want to have in bed but is so lost in her fog you won’t pull her out without getting lost in her transitory mists.
I met her one late night riding in a friend’s car. We went to pick her up at the end of her shift at some grease spoon restaurant in the middle of a grimy Long Island industrial park.
Her hair was red, her eyes spoke of innumerable surprises waiting for one patient enough to exhume them and she smelled of heaven itself. Just listening to her talk was intoxicating. From that moment on I was bewitched and knew I would follow her to the ends of the Earth.
That night was the catalyst for my months of misery and discontent. Sure, there were fun times. But I got snared in her web. I was induced into her circle of bitchy unfulfilled girl friends and white trash that dress like clowns just for kicks (not hyperbole). She pulled me around like a dog on a leash while I drooled and asked for more. I was in love and damn the obstacles.
I professed my love to her on many occasions. I went in with aces high but was shot down every time. I knew she loved me. Why would she swat me down? Was she a sadist? Or was she rejecting me because she was on the pedestal like a goddess and knew she was nothing but an abstract in my head and could dick me around for as long as she wished?
Amber was a free spirit, not in the good way. She did whatever her backward instincts told her. The fact she left bodies in her wake mattered little to her.
Half the time I tried to call her she would claim exhaustion. While she laid out this buffet of lies reality was kicking in. She loved being around men…men that were not I.
Depression kicked in. I spiraled into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. One moment I’d be happy and carefree. The next I would be soul crushingly depressed. The next I would be driven to anger so great that only a force of God could keep me contained.
My life was turning to steam. My career was suffering. My writing output was minimal to non-existent.
Why was my life being destroyed? I believed I needed female companionship to be successful in life. I believed I was nothing without a girl at my side.
She pervaded my dreams. Every night she and I would profess love for each other. Every time I would wake up at the moment of physical expression. It haunted me. It taunted me with the fruit I could never procure.
My dreams were my worst enemy. They eventually came into my favor, like all good double- edged swords do.
In the ether, we were in a factory of some sort with monolithic machines creating nameless items for nameless consumers. Amber was wearing a white dress, matching perfectly with her pale white skin. Her ruby red hair had bone white lilies around the fringes in a broken crown. I was naked, hairy, in the form of a great ape.
She led me around the machines. She always dancing, always bouncing, and always skipping. I ran clumsily behind her, always tripping in my lack of coordination.
She turned her head to me and grinned. She said,” You must take my hand. Taking my hand will take us to the promised land.”
I reached for her hand. She pulled it away from me and ran on.
I ran after Amber some more. I always came close but never quite reached her.
I grew tired of the chase. I became angry. I punched the ground as hard as I could with my ape arms. The world shook.
I pulled in the hardest breath I could and roared,” I will take no more of this! You are always running! I am always chasing! No more! You have caused me nothing but misery and heartache! You believe yourself an unattainable goddess, but you are just a girl! You mean nothing to me. You may be wearing flowers in your hair but they just hide the aloof and hungry monster waiting inside! You have no more power over me, Amber! I will succeed in life without you. I no longer need you. I am free! I am a man!”
The hair receded. I became a man once more. She gave me one more look. Her eyes shot white beams of light and she disappeared in a flash of heavenly light. The world disappeared. I woke up.
I felt liberated after that dream. I was running around Amber like a chicken with its head cut off. I had lost sight of what really matters: my self and my well -being. I thought I needed a woman in my life to make me complete. I didn’t. Even though the company of the fairer sex is always a pleasure, thinking you need one of them to be successful in life is a crock. Women are great. But I had been spending almost all of my energies on one single girl while my life fell apart around me.
The next day I let loose on Amber and it was not pretty. I am known for having a quick mouth with a sinister edge. I have a tendency to use my language to make you feel small, to make you reevaluate your life and realize you are nothing but a useless cog in the machine; kill yourself for you are unworthy unto me. I called her axel grease, a reptilian monster let loose upon the Earth to lower the standards and a perky little whore who will only amount to a buck fifty an hour.
Amber cried, she cried some more and she cried even more. But I felt liberated. The monkey was off my back. I was now able to take on the world once more without the burden of a broken piece of tail.
Like most males my age, I had been sold a lie. Liberals have been telling us that women are goddesses on a pedestal to be worshipped by all men without restraint. You don’t need to make money, find inner enlightenment or find success in your chosen field to be a success. No, you need a woman around to complete you. You must chase them or you are less than a man. You are unworthy unto them. You are a dumb slob who is only kept around by benevolent women for your seed and seed alone.
You can see this social dynamic being shoved down our throats every day on television ads. The man sitting on the couch with dead beady eyes and mouth open wide with a thin bead of spittle running down his shirt. He is always in the wrong for his stupidity is unmatched; comparing him to a caveman is injudicious to cavemen around the world. He has no guide in life. The woman comes in and sets the man straight. She is standing erect like a statue. Her eyes blaze with intelligence and infinite understanding of the universe. Her bosom is proportional with the rest of her body; perfect symmetry of the anatomy. She is the head of the roost, the master of the lodge. She is Athena re-born. Who would you listen to?
Men must ignore the social programming. It is doing nothing but turning us into effeminate little wimps who will always be kept down by ruby red high heels. Women are not glowing pieces of flesh with mysteries to be decoded only by the most daring. They are just people like you and me. They, like everyone else on this Earth, hold as much mystery as a Twinkie.
If men spent as much energy making money, on their writing or on their politics, this world would be a paradise. Poverty would be irrelevant, books rivaling the Odyssey would be published on a daily basis and men like Barack Obama would be lucky making a living sucking quarters out of vending machines.
My life after I broke the social programming has not been perfect but it is better than it was before. My head is not clouded with conflicting thoughts of violence and ennui. I feel better, I eat better, I sleep better and I work better.
The results speak for themselves. I am as happy as I can be and she has made a turn for the worse. She is living in a backwards-mutant trailer park town on the ass end of Long Island with a fat troglodyte with fat rolls that undulate like the tides of the ocean.
One day I will be living happy and rich, both financially and emotionally. She will be poverty-stricken living in a trailer with five-cracker spawn that she breast feeds until they are twenty.
There is life outside of the liberal sexual paradigm. Not is there just life but there is good living. You should break it too. You’ll be searching for my address to send me thank you notes.