Kind of like this guy. But not nearly so extreme.
The weird thing is, I’m actually quite content. I’m defeated. I ran up the white flag in the war against life along time ago. Life won, I lost. The world can do with me what it wills at this point; I’m not fighting back anymore. I’m not an pessimist; nor am I quite an optimist (though I do feel like one at times), more properly, I’m a defeatist. I don’t think much of anything is ever going to work out, but I don’t care either.
That means I spend very little time ranting, raving, complaining, bitching around and being a negative person like so many of the neurotic middle class White people around me. Since I don’t expect anything to go right, I’m constantly being surprised by everything that does more or less go ok.
And I get a lot of enjoyment and pleasure out of life. I love challenges, and I involve myself in challenging things all day long. Negative people think challenges are a drag. I think they are tear-your-hair-out difficult, but I kind of like that.
Every day is so full of interests and things to do that I can honestly say that I’m swamped. That means I can’t necessarily get back to you. So maybe call or write again.
If you keep yourself busy with interesting things all day and night, you don’t have much time to sit around and think about how shitty your life really is. And, as Thoreau noted, if you sit down and think about it, most of our lives probably do suck.
Now that I’m outside of the rat race, I’m done with the whole money game. I think I must give off dropout vibes, because no one ever asks me how much money I make. No one ever even brings up money around me. They just figure I don’t care about money, so why bring it up? No one ever asks me if I’m married either, so I guess they figure I don’t give a damn about that either.
The only reason pecking order guys start going on about how much they make is because they think that you give a damn and don’t make as much as they do. I obviously care nothing about money, so there’s no one to one-up. It’s actually kind of a nice place to be.
The only reason guys taunt other guys with their hot babe girlfriends and wives is to get the others riled up. If your attitude is, “Women? Who needs em?” you’ve left them stumped and they won’t challenge you.
It also helps to look some combination of macho, cocky, swaggering, intimidating, scary, dangerous, and yet content and indifferent. I guess that’s me. Probably a lot of people are going to hate you if you act like that, but they will do so silently, and hardly anyone will ever insult you.
People used to insult me all the time, I think because they knew I cared, so they knew they could hurt my feelings and watch me squeal. Also I seemed like the nice guy type who would not fight back. Even adult humans actually love to do this. Every civilized adult has a 13 year old sadist lurking beneath that sleek and grownup exterior, however genteel.
If you look like you’re going to bite their ear off, or if you look like you don’t care if they insult you, or some combination of both, most people won’t say anything nasty to your face. They might not talk to you at all. But if they do, they often just stand around trying to say nice things.
Say nice things back and compliment them a lot. Act gentle and speak in a soft, kind, voice. Smile, laugh and say dumb nothings. Show sympathy and decency and criticize bad people. Speak of higher moral values and claim you uphold them.
They’ll think you’re Clint Eastwood on a good day, and who could turn that down? If they do try to insult you, act like they just stepped on your foot and get outraged. That usually puts a stop to that.
A woman came to my door the other day.
I said, “You owe me $25.”
She said, “ExCUSE me?”
I said, “You owe me 25 bucks, dammit.”
She said, “Open the damn door.”
I said, “Screw you. You owe me 25 bucks.”
She said, “Oh? Is that the way it’s going to be?”
I said, “Yep.”
She turned and stormed off.
I said, “Don’t come back!”
I saw her a few days later. She started laughing and came running towards my car.
She said, “I’m gonna kick your ass, Bob.”
I said, “You owe me 25 bucks.”
She said, laughing, “No I don’t. I owe you $10.”
I said, “25”.
She said, laughing, “That does it. I’m coming over to your place tonite!”
I backed away and drove off.
It never pays to be wimpy with women.
Obviously, the poor but happy and I don’t care thing is going to run into some horrible roadblocks with American women, but as you get older, it gets easier. Women actually get way nicer as they get older. Into their 40’s and 50’s, they’re looks are going or gone. And even if they still have looks, they know they’re second choice.
When you’re looks are headed south, you need money or personality. No man cares about a woman with money, so that’s out. As a woman ages, she better have a good personality, or no one will give her the time of day.
The worst bitches of all are around 20-40 yrs old. Mid-30’s is particularly horrible. But they’re mostly bitchy towards men their own age. Even younger women are often a bit more subdued towards older men, or at least they won’t insult you to your face. There’s still a bit of “respect your elders” residue left in our blighted culture.
Act like, “Look, woman, talking to me is a damned privilege. It’s earned, and you don’t earn it by being a bitch. The first gratuitous damned insult, and you’re out of here. I don’t need you or care about you, and there’s women after me all the time anyway. I don’t need any of you women, and I can get any woman I want anyway.” She’ll go into good behavior mode to make sure you don’t storm off.
So, as we age, some things get a bit easier. You get to bail out of the shark tank and splash around in the kiddie pool again.
After age 40 or so, most of the intense competition is over and things are just the way they are. You’re rich, poor or middle class, and however it shook out, that’s the way it is. Most people reach some sort of an accommodation with wherever they are, and most egos have been bodyslammed so much, they’re subdued and housetrained.
Our bodies are falling apart, but the world’s at least nicer, and we aren’t dogs fighting over bones anymore. And if we are lucky, when our backs aren’t hurting too much, we can even still have sex.