I’m Not As Sought After As I Thought I Would Be

No 14 year old girls are running after me in public, like they did Joey Fatone circa 1999. No coffee dates. No drunken hook-ups. I mean throw me a friggin bone hear! No summer days drifting away, o wella wella I will tell you more but I wont put a fight. And no she didn’t get friendly down in the sand, it was sand she threw in my eyes, that rotten whore. No busty women are texting me. JC Chasez once said, “Some girls dance with women Knowing that it gives them attention." Girls just dance with women or even men but just not me. I guess they see me dancing with myself and don’t wanna bother me. Oh I am tired of girl’s answer’s: I want a guy who is nice to me and like who can make me laugh (chews gum and twirls hair). Well duh were you born yesterday you stupid bitch. Do you have to say you want a nice guy, I mean c’mon who wants a dopey retread who sends you back to your parents or a battered shelter with a tooth missing, two kids under 5 and one coming down to shoot.I’m not the slightest bit impotent. I ask a lot of questions and if you don’t answer them I’ll find you. I don’t spend 45 minutes doing my hair so it looks like I just got out of bed. I also do not highlight my hair but I do else where and I am not telling. I’m not always right, but I’m always wrong. When I do fart I say excuse me. I’m observant so I will know when you put on too much cheap perfume, just as I noticed on Oscar night that Jack Nicholson pronounced Capote “Capotay”. I have two working legs (there are some bummy dudes out there). I sing and impersonate Elvis Presley songs in the shower. My index toe is bigger then my “big toe”. I can throw a tennis ball a whole length of a football field. When playing hacky sack I usually am the one who kicks it far away because I hate you and all that you stand for. I can play a mean air guitar. I can’t swim so don’t blow up the plane I’m on. I can’t whistle either so don’t ask me to go to Lake Street so I have to hear you whistle at all those beautiful Mexican girls with those side burns. I can grow a beard like anytime I want but I always get this look like I am a creepy Arab who wants to touch your butt. I am not a creepy Arab, but I would like to touch your butt (just as long as it doesn’t say WIDE LOAD and if you haven’t defecated in the last 30 minutes).
You know years ago when I imagined myself at age 20 I didn’t dream of anything like this: scratching my ass, eating day old bread like a bum, drinking Listerine or even writing about my patheticness. I was somewhere in the Mediterranean whisked away by divas, sipping fine wine and reclining on a crushed velvet couch. Some exotic babe, most likely from the South China Seas, was feeding me Kraft Cheese Crumbables, a cocky Spaniard fanned me courtesy of her swelled labia’s. A hot blonde would be in back of me waxing my hairy ass, while an Irish red head entertained me with her thousandth rendition of the River Dance. Man those days would be beautiful. But here I am writing this at 1:11 AM early on a July morning realizing that I am single and it’s wonderful. Do I think you’ll ever know “Know Me”, doubt it! Do I dare waste my youthful days chasing a piece of ass, nah! You’re just a girl not yet a woman, maybe you need time, but maybe just maybe you need some sense knocked into you - Cuz I am not about to commit to celibacy. Hell No. From what I’ve gotten so far (not counting that strange experience that one sleepless night that led me to that woman who was a man who was a tranny) I can say commandingly I Want It All Night Long. I will not become a hermit amongst all these scantily dressed vixens nor a victim of the no sex in the champagne room. Alas, I am done with my rant. I will now shut off the lights, go to bed, alone, hungry, and weeping. In there I will wither and die. But not before I jack off in my sheets about you.