Holy Grail

Last night, I had the strangest dream. I was in the biggest army, the world has ever seen.

No, that’s the opening line from “Holy Grail” by Hunters and Collectors. But I did have an incredibly strange dream.

I don’t remember my dreams a lot.

I dreamed that my ex had a news story written about her, and that she was suddenly famous. The new story popped up whenever I went online. The news story described her as a kind and wonderful person, basically exactly the type of person I fell in love with. The person I convinced myself that she was. The person who I think about in my lowest moments, when I have to convince myself of who she really was. Of how she really acted. Of how she never actually loved me.

In the article, they were talking about how she was looking for love.

I woke up this morning and I’m a fucking wreck. I had to check the new site to make sure the story wasn’t real. I’m still not completely convinced.

I wonder if any of my ex’s ever think about me. I wonder what they think. It’s weird to look back on relationships where I was cheated on, where I was the cuckold, and to think “What did I do wrong? What could I have done to make sure they didn’t stray?”. Was it because the other guys were just hotter, or just because they were there and available. Were they more manly than me, were they less attentive lovers and more of a bastard?

I know I could probably find someone if I got hot. If I lost a bunch of weight, I bet people would then realise I’m a nice guy.

But the thing that strikes me deep down inside, is why do I have to get hot for someone to notice me? Aren’t people supposed to looking to connect with the person inside? Why do I have to get hot before someone even considers me. If you can handle me at my fattest, do you really desire me when I’m not fat?

I’ve noticed recently that straight women, more than any other demographic, care most about looks. To them, if someone isn’t hot, then they don’t even bother. Gay men and women, they seem to only focus on the personality of someone. Sure, I’ve heard them talk about hot people, but you’ll regularly see a gay couple where one or more of them is overweight. You’ll see straight couples where the woman is overweight and the man isn’t. But you will hardly see any straight couple where the guy is overweight, unless both of them are overweight.

Fuck, I know it’s a generalisation. But I think my years of rejection by hundreds of women who won’t even have a conversation with me, somewhat skews my world view.

So let’s recap what I’ve learnt about dating so far:

  1. Be hot. Doesn’t matter if you’re the nicest, funniest, most wonderful person (and I’m not any of those things), but if you’re not hot, don’t even fucking bother. Unless you’re rich. But if you’re rich, you’re still only going to attract gold diggers.
  2. Be an asshole. Nice people don’t make it in this world. Only those that bitch about things on Facebook, constantly draw attention to themselves or cheat and only care about themselves will make it in this world. The second you care more for someone else than you do for yourself, you’re fucked.
  3. Just fuck. No-one cares about monogamy in today’s society. It’s all cheating, quick hook ups, polyamory, have sex with as many people at once and who cares about emotions sort of world. Was I born in the wrong time? Look, I wouldn’t trade the progresses we have in female empowerment and representation and ethnic diversity and starting to treat everyone the same just for me to be a little bit happy by finding a partner who shares the same views as me. But then I suppose that view is one of the reasons why I get trampled on and used by this modern society.
  4. Don’t be depressed.
  5. Be rich, or have your life sorted out. Also relates back to the last point.
  6. Be hot. I really can’t stress this enough. No-one wants a fat boy.

Shit, what am I doing? These posts are so self indulgent. But hey, at least I’m not spreading them on Facebook. I’m so sorry if you’ve just read this post. What am I saying? There’s only really one person who would care enough to find these posts, who would explore my website enough to want to know inside my broken and scattered mind.

I’m so sorry Bianca. Thank you for being a good friend, but I am so goddamn jealous of you and your life.

Oh well, at least I know that when my life reaches the point of no return, the time of maximum fuck up. I still have an exit strategy.

I wonder if people who met me when I was young thought I was going to grow up to be a worth while person.

 

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