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6/23/2025, 5:51:53 AM
>Would you do it for a pussy? Be honest, fellow manlets.
I am 5'9"
I've never dated, since every girl I've asked out has rejected me, but I don't think it's because of height. It might have just been a wrong time, or that something ephemeral about the way I spoke or presented myself might have put them off. Since it's in the past it really doesn't matter anymore.
Still a KHHV but I don't hold grudges or anything against anyone.
But honestly, casual sex and hookup culture is the same thing as jerking off, and I think I'm worse off for jerking off every time I feel sexually frustrated. Maybe that's what I should feel like in the moment, otherwise I wouldn't be producing it, you know what I mean? And I do it, every time, fully knowing that jerking off isn't even a true anodyne to the feeling, since during the moment of clarity afterwards, the sense of loneliness is sharpened once again by a fraction of a degree. This is contrary to what should be happening: the sense of pair-bonding being sharpened, with a woman you've sworn to be a good husband for, after you've done the act to impregnate her.
When I meet her, you know, the "her" we always fantasize about, the hypothetical woman that isn't interested in anything irrelevant or even whatever my private shames are, but just simply seeks a union with me, I worry that I'm going to be too much of a dopamine-fried faggot to do whatever is necessary to break through the polite, civilized, social-contract barrier and seize her for myself. Am I going to be ready for the once-in-a-lifetime-chance when it happens? I'm not ready now and it's depressing.
A world of just whores, fatties, tattoos, just sucks. The obese single mother wearing skid-marked pajamas to walmart to buy rotisserie chickens just plain fucking sucks. My instincts tell me that things should be better and the high and terrible duty of rising above it is what I'll be held accountable for in the end.
I am 5'9"
I've never dated, since every girl I've asked out has rejected me, but I don't think it's because of height. It might have just been a wrong time, or that something ephemeral about the way I spoke or presented myself might have put them off. Since it's in the past it really doesn't matter anymore.
Still a KHHV but I don't hold grudges or anything against anyone.
But honestly, casual sex and hookup culture is the same thing as jerking off, and I think I'm worse off for jerking off every time I feel sexually frustrated. Maybe that's what I should feel like in the moment, otherwise I wouldn't be producing it, you know what I mean? And I do it, every time, fully knowing that jerking off isn't even a true anodyne to the feeling, since during the moment of clarity afterwards, the sense of loneliness is sharpened once again by a fraction of a degree. This is contrary to what should be happening: the sense of pair-bonding being sharpened, with a woman you've sworn to be a good husband for, after you've done the act to impregnate her.
When I meet her, you know, the "her" we always fantasize about, the hypothetical woman that isn't interested in anything irrelevant or even whatever my private shames are, but just simply seeks a union with me, I worry that I'm going to be too much of a dopamine-fried faggot to do whatever is necessary to break through the polite, civilized, social-contract barrier and seize her for myself. Am I going to be ready for the once-in-a-lifetime-chance when it happens? I'm not ready now and it's depressing.
A world of just whores, fatties, tattoos, just sucks. The obese single mother wearing skid-marked pajamas to walmart to buy rotisserie chickens just plain fucking sucks. My instincts tell me that things should be better and the high and terrible duty of rising above it is what I'll be held accountable for in the end.
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