romance issues

I know you're christian, but I'm pretty sure it was Jesus who said "get while the getting's good"

I honestly think I'm never meant to be married or even date. Went to a bonfire last night with several single, atttactive, kind,women there. Well, guess what? When I tried talkinh to them just as a friend, none of them looked into my face or even seemed interested in what I was saying. They wouldn't even acknowledge I existed last night.

Women wish I didn't exist. All them wish I was dead. I hate being me.

JimmyB wrote:

I honestly think I'm never meant to be married or even date. Went to a bonfire last night with several single, atttactive, kind,women there. Well, guess what? When I tried talkinh to them just as a friend, none of them looked into my face or even seemed interested in what I was saying.   They wouldn't even acknowledge I existed last night.
 
 Women wish I didn't exist. All them wish I was dead.   I hate being me.

Seriosuly, bud. Go talk to a professional. I mean - a little self hate now and then is healthy and normal. But you crossed that line a while ago it seems.

Get help, man. Seriously.

Can't afford it. Besides, its probably better to remain single when you can barely make enough money for yourself. Better off poor and single for the likes of me. People who have no real calling in life.

JimmyB wrote:

Can't afford it. Besides, its probably better to remain single when you can barely make enough money for yourself. Better off poor and single for the likes of me. People who have no real calling in life.

There's always a way to get mental health help. Your insurance would probably cover it. If not, there are outreach programs for people just like you. Do a little research.

The point is this: stop wallowing in your own self pity, make an effort, and save yourself before it's too late.

I wish Jimmy would post more because honestly it's the highlight of my day.

It's time for my motivational speech of the season.

Maybe you should dive into philosophy, Jimmy. Go full-on existentialist, devour Nietzsche and Kierkegaard or some shit. Give the world the finger and say fuck it. Maybe read up on the stoics (Seneca or Marcus Aurelius) or get high and read some Camus. I don't know, read/do/feel something different than you usually do. It's scary to do something you're not used to but you're depressed anyway so honestly, what could really go wrong.

Give the ladies the finger and start living for yourself, my man. Go to the gym, read some philosophy, talk to a therapist, and don't obsess over all the things you keep fucking up. It's toxic and it's useless. You had a crappy life up to now, let's slowly start to improve that crap. This shit is totally not auto-biographical, please shut up about it.

Last person in my graduating class to be single. The other last person who was just got engaged today.
"For sale- romantic heart. Reason- never going to need/use it".

I look like kirk lol

I like reading this topic once a month. Always some good stories to read here.

But why do you care about being the last person in your graduation class to be single? Some of my friends have been single a lot longer and they met someone eventually.

McPhist0 wrote:

I like reading this topic once a month. Always some good stories to read here.

But why do you care about being the last person in your graduation class to be single? Some of my friends have been single a lot longer and they met someone eventually.

because the title of JimmyB's book is "the universe hates me and nothing is fun"

Yea it seems to be. I've been reading his stories for a couple of years now.

Judging from our join dates it would appear I predate you by about a year, but you've definitely seen some of the glory days.

He's either a complete mystery of a human being or the most brilliant online troll of our generation. I'm not sure which one of the two entices me more.

I sometimes have dreams about Jimmy.

I wonder if he dreams about me :swoon:

Ah. I feel better. I told every woman who ever hurt me or led me on to "bite me and go to hell".

Ah, the ol' "let them know you haven't really moved on", that'll show them

How many women?

JimmyB wrote:

Ah. I feel better. I told every woman who ever hurt me or led me on to "bite me and go to hell".

McPhist0 wrote:

How many women?

ALL OF EM

I can't type this out according to the traditional rules of storytelling so imma just split it up

-We recently got new neighbors
-they moved into the same floor
-headed out the door one day and saw one of them amidst a slew of moving boxes
-I introduced myself and asked if I could help with anything
-the neighbor in question turned around and it turned out it was an extraordinarily beautiful girl around my age

We've hung out a few times now and I quite like her. I feel good about the fact that I offered to help before I knew she was an attractive girl because it gives me extra goodness points. It's also a way better origin story than "we met on Tinder". I wonder where this will take me.

Sounds just like in the movies, man. You will be head over heels only to realize that she made a bet with a bunch of friends to see who could get some nerd to fall for them first. You learn about this by overhearing a conversation she's having in her room as you walk up to ring the doorbell to give a her a serenade and bouquet of flowers. You walk away defeated and lonely, and as if she somehow knew you were there, she looks out of her window just as you pass the corner of her street only to see a guitar smashed to bits in the snow surrounded by trampled rose petals. She feels guilty and realizes that what started out as only a joke and a bet developed into something real. You, however, don't want none of that anymore and revert back to being a melancholic songwriter who's mean to other nerds on the Internet. After a few weeks without contact (and shaving) you muster up the courage to air your heartbreak by playing a few songs at an open mic evening at your local organic coffee bar. You play your heart out, but no one really seems to care too much. Depressed, you decide not to play your last song, seeing as life is nothing but darkness and despair anyway. Who cares? At the moment you mumble a "thank you" in the microphone, an angelic voice from somewhere in the back of the bar reaches your ears. You freeze up midway through undoing your capo as you would recognize that voice out of thousands. "You have one more song to play," she says. You think back about that one night you spent together goofing around and discussing the universe, and how you messed around with a few chords and she hummed a melody over it. "I finished the song," she says, "our song." She sits next to you on stage and you can't do anything but finger pick that first chord. As you play the intro, she tells the crowd that the song doesn't have a proper name yet, but that for now "I'm Sorry" will do. You feel your heart tighten in your chest. The crowd is interested all of a sudden, as if they sense the chemistry on the stage, awkward and frail as it may be at that moment. She starts to sing. It's perfect. As you reach the chorus and she sings "I love you, I'm sorry" with that cheeky smile of hers as she looks you straight in the eyes, you fall in love all over again. The crowd responds by cheering and clapping, love is in the air. The song ends, she asks for your forgiveness by taking your face in her hands and whispering in your ear. You respond by going in for the kiss. The crowd is roaring. You leave together, hand in hand, and you don't even notice the cold and bitter Swedish snow that night. You will live happily ever after and you know it in that instant. The bar is still buzzing, aside from one lonely dark figure in the corner. He peers at the two of you through the fogged up window as the two of slowly walk out of sight. He uses the pointer on his right hand to draw an upside down heart in the window, followed by a crack that goes from the top right down to the bottom. In his left hand, he cradles a model locomotive that he traveled to Sweden for to buy from a specialized seller. He jumps up as a feminine hand reaches over his shoulders to wipe out the broken heart. The boy notices a tattoo on her forearm in the candlelight of the bar. It says "No Retreat, No Regrets." "Hi," he says awkwardly. "No broken hearts tonight," she answers as she smiles at him. Her eyes light up when she looks at the locomotive. "Is that an original Z-1400 model from 1962?" she asks. The boy smiles and nods. Life's good that night.

I may vomit. I'm done trying. I don't even desire a girlfriend any longer. Hell, I'm perfectly happy being single an alone. No girl wants me, so why should I hope to date.

Well, posting this last night made me feel better.

Dear woman who broke my heart: you could have been in a loving relationship right now with a caring guy, but you didn't see my affections. You could be romantically involved with a wonderful guy, but you never saw my attention was more than just friendship- it was pure infatuation with you. From your beautiful caring loving soul, to your truly beautiful physical appearance, including your beautiful blonde hair, I was hooked line and sinker for you. I fell hard, the hardest I've ever fell for someone, and you completely brushed me off by not noticing my attempts.
You could have had me, but now its probably too late unless you make a serious first step to grab my attention. It's your move, and the ball is in your court.