the real work
Seriously, the amount of “men”–or, as what I am about to write might indicate–Peter Pans on the dating site makes me laugh again and again, makes me shake my head.
Ok, truth? I guess my curiosity HAS gotten the best of me, I need to know–
What has your life been like that the amount of depth and quality you have within your self equates to Wanna see a dick pick as your opening line? What circumstances, what social media or douchy friends or crappy parent have you listened to, rather than exploring your own self worth enough, to be able to realize that starting a conversation with a women that goes, Hey gorgeous, how bout a friend’s with benefits kinda thing? is actually a commentary on how very little you respect YOU?
I don’t even know your real name, SWEARIONLYTCKLE89.
THEREALDEAL 76, and, while I’m at it, the literal countless other 30-somethings like you, I can’t help it, I wonder? What has happened in your life, what has gone so wrong that the defenses you have so finely assembled allow, again and again, only a slippery So when do I get to meet you? AND how is that you are in your third decade of living and haven’t found pause enough to choose to understand: this is not the same thing as actually asking a woman on a date. Tell me, what code among you bros is it that says the way to be a man is inconsistency. Who hurt you so bad that you’d prefer the inflation of saying you’ll call but never actually meaning it, of number gathering… instead of taking time, with true human courageousness, to actually let your self be available to get to know?
I’m curious, I need to know–am I wrong to assume this is anything but a commentary on you? A reflection of the mass of undeveloped boys in our culture, walking around in bodies of men?
I could, I suppose, at the same time, have pity for you because I can only assume that the amount of “women” who answer dick pick offers is equal to the amount of “men” who send them. “Women” who, in fact, believe all they have to offer is what they can give away in the first few minutes–a naked pick, or maybe some sex the first night? I could pity a culture, a whole people even, so obsessed with appearance and consumption that the truth of who they really are scares them away from actually connecting to the reality going on inside of themselves. A whole culture so busy of running from the truth of who they are that conflating sexuality with intimacy is somehow now confused for finding the right one, or real love?
There are fine men I have met, fine ones, with true substance and sensibility, who walk with worth and truth and grace. I have been on a small handful of legit, thoughtful dates.
But this inbox of mine, so full of all this other nonsense? Most of the time it makes me laugh. But it’s also left me with some questions~
What the hell is wrong with PEOPLE these days, so afraid to become real women, real men?