September 30, 2018 by sindiantadka
I hate it so much. It happens all the time to me and I hate it.
I try to fight it again and again and I always lose and I end up feeling disgusted with myself every single time.
It cheapens me, it decreases my value – sometimes in front of others, mostly in my own eyes.
As with a lot of other shit in my life, it has to do with women.
Like a lot of men, I prefer texting women. Sometimes, those women do not text back. If they are good looking and/or young, I get butthurt. When they do reply, which could be weeks or months later, instead of maintaining some shred of dignity, I prostitute myself to them. And this happens again, and again, and again.
I am being shameless enough to admit this. In fact, some of you here might be aware of this; some may have realised it on their own. (Except you, Ponni. You’re the purest relationship I’ve had the misfortune to not have.)
A cousin, close to me in some ways, incredibly distant in others, decades ago, described me almost perfectly in a single word – ‘Chootbhagat’. It was meant to as be derogatory then as it is now, and yet I cannot but regret how prescient his description has been. I was one then, I am one now.
Knowing it, acknowledging it, does not make me a better man. Not acting on it does not make me a better man. I do not expect sympathy, nor do I deserve it.
I want to not be hurt. I know the answer – (a) be so good that the women don’t have a choice but to come to you or (b) hunt in your own league – fat, and getting older. Where’s the fun in that, amirite?
I want to be a better man, and slowly I am falling into the conclusion that I am, in fact, not a good man at all. I’m a fucking middle aged man! This whole post is ridiculous – I am not a teenage girl for fuck’s sake. I should just get some whores and be done with this. If you know any high end ones, drop me a line.
Else Fuck off.