I've been instructed to write a weekly blog and post it every Tuesday. So, why am I writing to you on Wednesday?
Because I don't respond favorably to command like a circus poodle. You can't wave a biscuit in front of my face and expect me to bend to your will.
That's the problem I find with dating. Women want you to be their envisioned hero, their ideal, instead of accepting you for who you are. Women who'd rather waste their time worrying about their appearance and how their social status will be affected by their arm candy. Women who think they're better than you but still want your shoulder to cry on.
Do I sound bitter? Hell, yeah I am.
I don't conform.
I don't care about social status.
My shoulders stay dry.
And that's why I'm writing to you on Wednesday.
Because I don't respond favorably to command like a circus poodle. You can't wave a biscuit in front of my face and expect me to bend to your will.
That's the problem I find with dating. Women want you to be their envisioned hero, their ideal, instead of accepting you for who you are. Women who'd rather waste their time worrying about their appearance and how their social status will be affected by their arm candy. Women who think they're better than you but still want your shoulder to cry on.
Do I sound bitter? Hell, yeah I am.
I don't conform.
I don't care about social status.
My shoulders stay dry.
And that's why I'm writing to you on Wednesday.
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