Waiting for something worth posting...this isn't it.
I remember a conversation I had with an ex...
Her: "Bisson, where are our children?"
Me: "Ehh, here and thereabouts on the bed sheet dearest, in fact if you get an extra strong microscope you can see them better. Look our eldest is doing front and backstroke. He'll be an Olympic champion that one..."
Her: "Would they not be better in my vagina?!"
Me: "But that's where they become really expensive my love!"
Her: "You pulled out as you came, you fucking..."
And that's all I remember of that conversation, but that was quite a later relationship and you can see why that ended. I was too far gone then.
I tried Plenty of Fish quite a few times before that. What happens on POF is one out of over 99,000 girls you contact actually answers your email for which you've had to debase and humiliate yourself completely to send, which is exactly how you feel when they don't respond. Self-respect? Had to look that up in a dictionary and I haven't had it since I was five years old anyway.
The ones that do...it turns out you rather they hadn't. What happens is you meet a girl and she expels a small mass of tobacco into a spittoon, pushes her stetson up to get a good look at you and speaks to you in that fine western, Arizona drawl that all girls have.
"That's a real purty heart yeh got thar..."
You nod your head, albeit in fearful agreement. She will spit out another spume of tobacco and then resume her considered remarks.
"Real purty...Actshually that lil 'ol heart looks real fine in that chest cavity...but would look even bettah if Ah rip it outta there, throw it to the ground and stamp on it continuous laike...then it'll look real beautyfull in mah trophai cabinet..."
At this point you shake your head fiercely in fearful disagreement but you know it's all too late for that, cos she spits out her last wad of tabaccy and comes for yeh. Some of them don't even bring their own spittoons and you're left with a horrendous carpet cleaning bill.
Now that was POF, but you'll have exactly the same experience on OK Cupid, Match.com, Tinder and so on. Just the stetsons tend to vary.
I've been ripped to pieces over love and relationships since I was 20 anyway. I'm quite fed up with it by now. It's like getting ripped to pieces by wild dogs but you've got to stitch yourself together each time and your needlework is getting worse every time, really bad and there's always material left over. If you're in a monastery and you ever get a twinge of 'what if?', don't. Brother, you took the easy way out.
Actually as I race towards middle age I have found that past experience has tended to heighten my standards. Now, for example, I will ask myself a question like this;
'Is this woman as good as or better than "No Other", the album by Gene Clark?'
'Erm...better than "Life's Greatest Fool"...? Possibly, though I've had my self-respect trod on more than I have listened to that song...'
'Ok...is she as good as "Strength of Strings?'
'BAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! Are you serious?? There hasn't been the woman born!!'
'What about "Some..."
'You seriously need to shut up now, this is the stupidest internal conversation I've ever had.'
And that is the lesson I've learnt the hard way. Girlfriends are great, don't get me wrong but they will never, ever be as great as good music. That will never leave you, it will always break your heart only in a good way and is always there when you're heart has been broken by some nasty human.
So get a monastery with a good sound system and you're set for life!