I’m going to be very honest with this, far more honest than I ever would be in the ‘real world’.
I am not entirely comfortable with being on this website yet, but I am going to give it a shot. In the worst case, I can always just leave. Again, I mean no offense, but I am being honest with you all. This is going to be long, and I can’t begin to offer a tl;dr version. I hope I’m not making a mistake.
I hate women. Not publicly, of course, and I can appreciate pretty things, I love an ass in yoga pants as much as the next man. But I do hate them. I hate nearly everything about them, even the beauty, wasted as it is. Obviously, I do not want to hate women, I understand that it is not “healthy”, or whatever argument can be made. But I hate them nonetheless.
It’s never been easy for me with women. Like many men, I grew up being taught to respect women and believing that if I was a good boy, I would be rewarded with one. Hell, I love the idea of Chivalry, knightly honour and all that, it’s a beautiful dream. I know that it’s all lies, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Like I said, I never had much luck with the ladies. I took a friend of mine to prom (we were both saxophone players), but that was really just for show, since the rural town I grew up in wouldn’t have allowed me to not go. And honestly, I did like her. I loved her. That night was all that 17 year-old me could have wanted, I even had my first kiss. But that’s all there is to that story (it’s been 10 years and last I heard she was still trapped in that one-horse town), and so I went to college….
College was hard for me, I wasn’t prepared for the massive social changes and lack of parental oversight. I partied and such, but nothing interesting came from it, and all in all it was a sad two years of my life. I dropped out, my father all but disowned me, and I moved back to my mom’s ranch. I reconnected with that girl from school, but only over messaging, and nothing came of anything. After a year of that I moved to California and ran a business in the Bay Area. I met amazing people and I formed some of the strongest bonds of brotherhood you could imagine. I joined a band, partied like a rock star, finally lost my virginity at 22, and got up every morning to open shop and sell comic books. Honestly, I loved it. I was my own man, living my own life, by my terms. That freedom meant the world to me. But I didn’t have that one thing. That one thing that I had been told for years was the most important thing for a man to have.
And then she walked into my life. It was like standing under a neon rendition of the Sistine Chapel being near her. Her smile made me want to weep tears of joy. Lancelot would have been jealous. She was 20, I was 23, and I showed her all the fun a young businessman could. Concerts, surfing, fancy dinners. I loved to share experiences with her, just sitting on the beach, watching the sunset with her; the world could have ended and I wouldn’t have cared. Jewelry and clothes, I showered her with gifts whenever I could. She was always bright and happy, always gracious, never asking for anything, never selfish. In hindsight, I never saw the warning signs. She wouldn’t meet my friends, didn’t meet my parents when she had the chance, even refused to join me at my best friend’s wedding. Oh, and her father liked me. Is that bad? I kinda miss that old man, come to think of it. Anyway, it all ended rather abruptly.
We had been dating for about two years when all of a sudden, the sex went from good to horrible. I can’t really put it into words, but for any of you that have had bad sex, just unresponsive, unpassionate, and lazy, you know what I’m talking about. I slowly realized this, thought it was my fault, tried to see if I could fix it. Then one night, she, well, she tried to make me rape her. Now, I can say with pride that I did no such thing; I’m all for roughness, but there is a line I would never cross. It was too much for me, I knew in my mind that something was wrong, that things were off in a serious way. Then she disappeared. Poof. Into the Aether.
A week or so after the “forcibly screw me while I tell you ‘no’ and then get p~~~ed when you won’t” incident, I couldn’t get a hold of her. One month went by. Zero Contact. I tried. I did everything one would do within reason, stopping short of filing a missing person’s report. Then she showed up at my work one day. Out of the blue. I was shocked, to say the least, but I kept my cool and we went and got a coffee. She was chipper as could be, no inclination of any problems. She told me about how she had met this great guy and so on and so forth. Honestly, I was dumbfounded. Years of living in polite society stopped me from losing my mind, and she left after about an hour. I know that sounds insane. It still feels insane to type it.
Well, I didn’t take it well once I got home and the shock set in. I spent the next month indulging in every vice I could. I spent that first week nearly black-out drunk. I didn’t go home, I didn’t change clothes, I had sex with at least four women (that I remember), two of whom were good friends of mine at the time. I burned through a few thousand dollars in cocaine, booze, and anything else that would make the pain stop. When I had to go back to work, I cleaned myself up and did so. All in all, my social life and professional life survived without a scratch. I cried in the shower every morning for a year.
The business moved locations, I bought a condo. Then my business partner stabbed me in the back and I was laid off after five years of loyal service. I mourned for a month and got a new job. I worked with lots of women at my new job. I started to become friendly with them, almost became “one of the girls”, if you will. Around Christmas time, I hooked up with one of my co-workers and her friend after a show. Bucket list, scratch one. Granted, I would never had gotten involved with a co-worker, but I just didn’t give a damn. And I have a weakness for redheads. I kept hooking up with her, we’d sneak off to a stockroom and f~~~ on a lunch break, she’d come over on a Sunday morning and we’d get wasted and make my neighbors file a noise complaint. She was fun, best I’ve ever had in the sack. She also had a boyfriend. I knew, of course, and I didn’t care. Then, one day, it was over. She refused to talk to me, shot me nasty looks, and quit about a month later. I shrugged and moved on, too bitter to care. It never became gossip at work, I don’t think so anyway. I worked hard, got promoted, and moved on.
I’m good at making friends, acquaintances at the least. One of the girls I worked with had a real piece of s~~~ for a boyfriend, used to pick her up for lunch drunk, had security called on him more than once (they thought he was a hobo), and that’s not even to say the stories she would tell. Now, she was attractive, little petite thing, but I had decided to not do anything about it. Just treat her like any other person. We’d all listen to her sob stories (all the girls had some), I’d give her advice on occasion (as one of the only straight men there), and so on. One night he forgot to pick her up from work, so I gave her a lift home (I’m not going to have a rape victim on my conscience), but again, I was professional to a tee. Then he left her. She sobbed and sobbed, I offered a shoulder, gave her encouragement, was a good ‘friend’. And then one day, about a week later (‘and then one day’ is becoming a catchphrase at this rate) she became a complete and total c~~~. Not just to me, but everyone. But there was extra venom directed at me. Then the meetings with HR came, the prodding questions trying to get me to admit to sexual harassment. Thankfully, my sterling job performance and charm saved me. The last straw was when I was called in and accused of putting my phone number in her cell phone, something that I informed them I had no way of accomplishing. I was given the choice of resigning or being fired. I chose to leave with some dignity. I lost my nerve once I got home, realized my life was a pointless waste of time, and considered suicide. Then I woke up one morning (after smoking I don’t even know how much pot) and realized what I had to do. I sold the condo, I moved away from the area, and I went back to college. That was six months ago.
I’m happier now, happy as I can pretend to be, anyway. I haven’t been with a woman since I moved (a long-overdue one night stand with a married friend) and honestly I’m super okay with that. But I hate them now. I would never do anything, obviously, but whenever I have to deal with a woman, be she waitress, classmate, or friend’s significant other, I just want to her to go away, by excessive force, if required. The contempt I feel is alarming, it saddens me, and it bothers me to my core. I don’t want to hate anyone, but I hate women more than anything now. I can’t see a female doctor, can’t take a class with a female professor, I even left a bar when the bartenders were all women.
So, why did I write all that? I don’t know, honestly. I guess I’m tired of hating. I’m not looking for pity, none of that was supposed to be a sob story, I just feel that I had to tell it. I feel like you men understand me, probably more than I do. I feel like you can help me be a better man, the man I want to be; independent, confident, and proud to be my own man. Maybe I’m wrong, in which case, I’ll ask that all this be deleted. If this was all too much for this introduction forum, I apologize. If you actually read all this, I’m impressed. I don’t think my ‘plight’ is unique, I don’t think I’m alone. I think I have kindred spirits here that can show me the light. I think I’ve waxed philosophical far too long.
Killmandrill 3 years, 7 months ago.
