Repost from the old site.
Ah, crazy women! I suppose if I were really nuts, I would not mind a crazy woman. After all, I would probably deserve her, right? Sad thing is, I am hopelessly prejudiced against crazy women. I don’t like em. I discriminate.
I also require that all females be no more than 10% overweight, and in my age bracket, that rules out most of the females. So I don’t really date that much these days, but hey, at least I have pride, dammit.
Women find out I am fat-prejudiced, and they go nuts, I mean ballistic. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that. Hey, look, I have to have sex with this creature, so I have to be able to tolerate your unclothed appearance enough to be able to do that, and at 50, it ain’t a walk in the park anymore, baby.
I have enough problems of my own to deal with without crazy women on top of everything else.
I remember this one crazy woman, I broke up with her, and she goes and punches a hole in the wall! Whoa, baby, hold onto your horses! I broke up with you? Hell, you should be happy!
She used to swallow handfuls of acid tabs (like five hits at once) when we went out on dates. She drank like a fish. She would smoke any kind of weed you gave her and probably take any kind of drug too. All her friends were fags, and she specialized in the sickest fags of them all, the ones in Hollywood who loved masochism.
She regaled me with their tales of how these guys require welts raised two or three inches before they were satisfied. Her idea of a good time was going to an LA fag bar. That was what she did most of the time, as she was almost a full-time fag hag. She also had straight boyfriends, apparently, as she did like men and sex. Going to an LA gay bar is not my idea of a good time.
One night she was drinking like a maniac, and she grabbed four or five tricyclic antidepressants and tossed them down. I protested, and she cried out that this was all of the misery that she was in. So she was deeply psychiatrically ill, as you can see. Diagnosis: borderline schizophrenia, which nowadays goes to Borderline Personality Disorder for the most part.
She had a weird way of talking, and when we would go out, it seemed that she would act so crazy and weird in public that I would be embarrassed to even be seen with her. She spoke in weird metaphors, and it really started annoying me. I’m kind of like neurotic, staring off into space like a weirdo nuts, but I’m not stark raving acting out bats like that. Forget it.
I told her, “Hey, look, you are just too nuts for me,” and she freaks. I wonder if she is still alive.
She was also quite a masochist as far as sex went, but I could not really get into that too much. Anyway, most females are like that to some degree or another, let’s face it. It goes hand in hand with being female.
She was always telling me about stories where she was meeting guys who would pull knives on her, rape her, threaten to kill her, torture her, etc. One time it was a whole group of guys and she gangbanged them all. Whopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Except they were all pulling knives on her and trying to torture her and threatening to kill her at the time.
She was quite proud of her gangbanging experience, but my best friends heard about it and were totally freaked out and appalled, saying she was a disgusting slut pig whore. That was true, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing in a female. In fact, one could knock on my door right now and even at age 50, I might not even mind too much.
She also liked women a little bit, but only a little. She really loved young boys, as she called them, and delighted in having sex with teenage boys, especially around 13 years old. Her Mom was schizophrenic and had tried to stab her to death in her sleep when she was a little girl, and I guess it was all downhill from then on.
She had all these weird seemingly different personalities that she would fade in and out of all the time. Now, I’m into channeling myself, but this sort of thing really ought to be controlled in order to work best, otherwise you just seem like a street person or a potential maniac.
Later she accused my best friend of hitting a baby in the EEG lab where he worked. According to everyone else, it never even happened, but she insisted and insisted. I think maybe they fired her, but I forget.
I saw her once later, she came over to my house in the daytime, and you know how that goes. I was 27 years old, graduated USC with post-BA degree, teaching school full-time, smoking lots of dope, going nuts.
The culmination of the sex act on my end left her all pissed off, but I thought it was funny that when I kissed her goodbye at the car, I swear some of the middle aged neighbor ladies were laughing and smiling and giving me the thumbs up?
One housewife even sneaked outside and gave me a great big beaming smile. Who says women don’t like guys who score?
Women ain’t all bad.
Repost from the old site.