Goon on Girl Action
A species doesn't evolve if all it does is sit around holding hands and watching sex and the city reruns.Women have pretty solid reasons to desire the 'friendship' of males; the suggestion of sex can still result in favors such as protection or food. Hell, you might be able to trick Mr. Caveman #1 into taking care of the kid Mr. Caveman #2 gave you. Men, however, have zero evolutionary reason to desire the friendship of females. Having a female around who will not carry your child simply offers us no benefits. The irony of the situation is that females are originally only interested in friendship with men because men do not want a mere friendship. It is the suggestion of sex that keeps the whole machine going, whether you consciously accept that or not.
I haven't been dating my current girlfriend for very long now, only 2 months infact, but already it's unveiling itself as a wonderful connection between two people who adore each other. She's kind, intelligent, beautiful, funny and athletically fit with no bad habits other than the minor folly of biting one's nails; I find this cute. She's more than I could have ever asked for and everyday her mannerisms bring joy to my life and go unnoticed to anyone else not paying attention. The way she rests her head on her hands when she's drowsy; the way she casually places her hands on her hips, the insignificant things that I notice and appreciate more than any person ever could.
Two and a half months ago I was a completely different person. Having read 'The catcher in the rye' - out of shear spontaneity during one library trip when I happened to pick it blindly from a shelf - I found myself subconsciously imitating Holden Caulfield's story. Throughout the course of my life I had become cynical and found myself bitter at the hypocrisy that reigned down all around me, seemingly benign to everybody else. I had become jaded by the monstrous activities, occurring in far off lands, of which the news channels had all the time in the world to tell. Year after year my sensitivity to these truths transformed them into a tool of attrition: wearing me down until my gleeful childhood had vanished leaving only trepidation at the thought of what the future held. This feeling began to grow until, eventually, I had decided that nothing provided satisfaction or justification to my existence. Through this objective and cold reasoning I came to the conclusion that it was most beneficial to simply end my life.
Monday followed with no change to routine: lectures were still going ahead and I woke up at the same time I do every Monday. A week had passed since I had arrived at my macabre conclusion and I had experimented numerous times with it's execution (An apt word considering the circumstances.) Fire arms are not easily acquirable and the act of seppuku using a bladed instrument sentimentally seemed to be too ornamental and inefficient without the discipline of its ancient practitioners, the Samurai. Falling from a great height was also unappealing due to a strong realisation of vertigo I feel at any great height. Not wanting to spend a lot of time deliberating such a puzzle, I had decided that taking an overdose was a peaceful way to bring about my demise.
Wednesday now rolled by, as timely as only nature herself could be, and I had planned a visit to the doctor a priori of my arrival on campus. I was certain the feigning of a mild sleep disorder would allow me to obtain the correct medication that was potent enough to allow me to leave the stage quietly. I walked down the main road, it was around 1pm and the winter weather was surprisingly mild with the sun high in the sky shining upon me with its warm glow, even this pleasure did not change my mind. I made my entrance to the reception desk in the poorly lit foyer, signed in, then made my way to the waiting room. She was already there, waiting.
I have never been good with women, a running theme on this forum which doesn't leave me without an understanding audience. It is because of this fact that, on that day, had she not approached me, I know I would not be writing this message. My message in a bottle that may find its way to other lost souls. I digress.
As I walked in with my usual apathetic half closed eyes, surveying the room for a place to sit that will surely be clear of anyone who will interact with me, I noticed something that would cause my eyes to widen and my heart to leap. It was her. She was reading a magazine typical of a doctor's waiting room - did anybody actually read those? - and wearing her fitting jeans that showcased her slim figure. She had medium length brown hair resting lightly on her delicate shoulders. The next thing I noticed were her full lips, sans make-up; yet, regardless, still very attractive. Despite this, I found myself drawn towards my previously reserved seat.