LogFAQs > #979390722

1999 was great. I had just gotten a motorcycle and used to rev it in the school parking lot like biggest of douchebags. Having that bike never created the need for me to develop a real personality to get women. I could just rev the engine instead when I was supposed to say something. Instead of thoughts and feelings to share, I just had "vrooomvroomvroomvroom".

This was the start of a long series of events where I found my proper place in the world. That place was hooking up with girls that were trying to disappoint their daddy. I was willing to become that disappointment. I wasnt the hero they needed or deserved, but I was halfway decent way to spend some time and not have to think about their issues. Some might say that's being what a hero really is though.

I carried this gift into later adulthood where the women I drew to me had even more time to grow emotionally damaged. I watched my friends date emotionally stable women and thought it was disgusting. What did they even do? Talk about their hopes and dreams? Emotionally bond? Just sit and enjoy eachothers company? Yuck! Not for me.

Eventually, I grew old and thought I'd end up alone. Instead, I ran into a new market: widows. Much like the women of my youth, widows were willing to do anything that helped them not face their sad reality. Giving dick blowjobs. I was happy to oblige.

Unfortunately, like most young men. I became ancient and died. It was a heart attack in the throws of passion. Hundreds of women attended my funeral. They were so heartbroken that they threw themselves into my grave. They couldnt stand to be alone with their own thoughts. Seeing this beautiful display, God ressurected me. He couldn't let this tragedy continue.