OK, now I am back to wanting an actual girlfriend. Like, I want one. I want to get married, settle down, have kids, etc etc. So I gotta find one now. What a fucking pain in the ass.
I mean, seriously. I have tried this. We have been through this. And I failed. But apparently you are not allowed to simply fail– if you go through twenty years of trying to find a nice girl to get married to, and you come out of it beat up and exhausted and you just, you’d like to enjoy a couple months of just sitting on the porch with your cat and a nice room temperature glass of inexpensive pinot noir on a Friday night instead of let’s go out to bars where girls used to go, look at the girls, and be too scared to talk to the girls—you can’t do it; some mechanism in your glands fires off after a few weeks of defeated but relaxing non-activity and says “OK, good halftime, let’s get back out there.”
I don’t want to get back out there, man. I don’t have the kind of life where “there” is anything but a monstrous amount of time and effort and the one thing guaranteed is that most of what you will encounter is failure. And there might be a teeny weeny chance of success, but you don’t know, you know. It’s like, get out there and wait in the rain for a bus that might never come. It’s like playing the lottery, if the lottery were biologically compulsory to play. We’re driven with these instincts that just get you out there and make you lose, because evolution does not give a shit about your individual pain. A thousand guys will try on a given night and a couple guys will win, and that’s enough to keep the whole cycle going. It is merciless on the individual, despite human beings being so smart and etc. Octopi are smart too but most of them have a life span of one year and they reproduce by laying ten thousand eggs, nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine of which will hatch and spill their contents right into the mouth of some mackerel.
Well, we’ve tried trying. We’ve tried going out and making effort and you know, courting girls and stuff. Or at least we’ve tried taking them out on dates and fucking them. I think we’ve achieved an aqeduate sample size to call that one a null efect, you know, on whether you can find your soul mate. So. What I have to do is completely restructure my life so that I’m around attractive, available young women naturally, and can interact with them with no weird mercenary pretext. I am going to have to abruptly change careers. Which, fine, my job fucking sucks. Great. I will have to pursue a career in makeup, or child development, or horses or something. Something girls like. Reality shows. Uh… fashion. Fashion, right? I will have to be the Warren Beatty in SHAMPOO guy who is the lone straight man in a sea of women and gays and so your whole life is just an ocean of pussy pulling at you. So much so that you are maddened and frustrated and all you desire is a fucking escape from the pussy. I need to have one of those lives.
delicioustacos 
“evolution does not give a shit about your individual pain”. jesus, that one line brought tears. genius is lonely. would you rather be average and married? i doubt it. (i would say ‘happily’ married but see little evidence that such is even possible).
ok, genius is probably a stretch. lets go with above average and sensistive.
see, lenore loves you. and you have me. you dont really want a girlfriend honey–it is a lot of work. work on yourself–not like the gym–the hard stuff. listening and talking and being vulnerable but brave, sincere and down to compromise. … plus. i would be so sad…
Why would you be sad? Wouldn’t you rather he have a real girlfriend so you can go on to be someone else’s real girlfriend instead of holding on, thinking one day you’ll stop being fake girlfriend?
good luck, sporto
i think you can do it. take some classes in shit you’re interested in; you get to better yourself like fakegirlfriend suggested and you can meet some chicks…er, women.
I’m not rooting for him. This blog would be boring as hell if his life wasn’t so shitty.
Nonsense, lol. It’s character development. You wouldn’t keep reading it if you didn’t have even a tiny bit of hope for a happy ending. No one likes a movie or book with a crappy ending.
Bullshit. A story doesn’t have to have a happy ending to be good. As a matter of fact, I would prefer my stories NOT to have happy endings – makes them a little more realistic. Pet Semetary, Cujo, McTeague, Blood Meridian – great books, sad endings. And it’s pretty much well established early on that those stories aren’t gonna end well. Besides, this ain’t a book, this is more like comic strip reading; he’s like a morally bankrupt version of Jon Arbuckle.
I don’t wish ill will on the guy or anything, but I think his blog might suffer if he didn’t have so much existential angst. He probably wouldn’t even write it if he didn’t have anything to complain about.
Some people just aren’t good at their chosen hobbies. After a certain point–a point you have clearly touched upon here and probably many times before–you realize that the skill you’d like to have (in this case, pickup game) is not evolving and may never develop. Maybe if you continue to pursue it doggedly, you will improve. Maybe not. It seems to me that even when you do succeed, your victories are Pyrrhic. The ways in which you succeed have the effect of repulsing you because you are, in essence, proving other people’s ideas about modern dating to be true; ideas that you would rather prove false in an ideal world. Your shallow successes prod at one of your deepest wounds and keep it open.
But anyway, regardless of whether or not you continue to play a game that leaves you miserable no matter the outcome, you need small successes that don’t remind you of how screwed up the world can be. Find something unrelated to work or dating that will allow you to objectively measure your success and experience these tiny victories.
Cooking has been a great choice for me. Even when something does not turn out perfectly, it is possible to make corrections that generate satisfying results. The more I cook, the more options I have stored in my mental toolkit for improvement and embellishment down the road. Everything builds up in a positive way. So it goes with any rewarding pursuit.
I was just gonna say it took me 25 years to find love and now it’s too late. Dooooooit now. It’s easy. Just stop looking.