Reader Mailbag: Do You Actually Like Women?

“Jess” asks:

Also – do you actually like women? It seems like you like pretty girls and getting off, but I can’t tell if you actually like women.

I mean, sometimes.

Sometimes I like them, sometimes I don’t like them. Or rather, I like some women and not other women. I end up hanging out with tons of women these days, to the point where I am now like the annoying woman who says she can’t stand other women and all her friends are men. Because she can’t stand all the “drama,” etc.

So I like women. But then I don’t get laid for a good like six weeks and I start to hate women. If I see a woman talking to another man in a bar, and she seems interested in what he’s saying, I will hate that woman. I will hate that woman for falling for the same bullshit that that dude is pulling that he pulls on every other girl, that every other dude who is successful with women pulls, and I cannot pull, and I will resent her for not abandoning that successful charming dude and somehow recognizing, like, pheromonally, the true inner beauty of the marginally attractive drunk man at the other end of the bar scowling at her. And then later she will probably fucking complain to some guy like me about how that guy cheated on her or didn’t call her and I will sullenly think what the fuck did you expect? I will feel like I am the guy who has to soak up some girl’s tears while some other guy is soaking up that ass. I will begin to identify myself as the “nice guy” who doesn’t get laid because of some deeper inherent virtue than all those sleazy guys who are actually out there getting laid. I become exactly what surly Jezebel commenters call a NiceGuy™– a whiny self-pitying douche who morphs into a quasi-date rapist at the first glimpse of pussy.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t like women. I like women a lot, the ones I get to know. I just don’t like girls I want to fuck who don’t want to fuck me. There’s this line between “women” and “pussy.” I don’t go out looking to get to know women, I go out looking for pussy. I acknowledge this is horrible, and I would like to change it, but I’m fucking thirty six years old, you know?

The only time I ever go out and meet women and deal with them as honest-to-goodness human beings is when I’m already swimming in pussy and don’t care. And to get to that state takes many long slogging months of dealing with women in the most venal and disgusting way imaginable. Like a second job, selling some product you don’t really believe in. My dick is Florida swampland and these girls are the gullible elderly who mailed in some clip ‘n’ save real estate ad from Reader’s Digest.