Reposts, vol 3

"Fuck it, I'm not a knight."
-Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

Since the advent of the internet, men who have no luck with women have actually been documented to have higher standards than the ugly and fat men of times past. Why is this? Men who have no luck with women tend to be more likely to find their mental image of women from the media, be it through film, television, or Google image search. Since women who are found in these outlets tend to be in at least the 80th percentile of attractiveness, and they never talk to women in their real lives, their standards become impossible to meet, which in turn makes them less likely to ever interact with somebody of the female persuasion. Hypocrisy at its finest.

Myself, I'm subject to this, in that I generally don't have interest in women anywhere near my league. But then, given that my "league" consists of burn ward residents, octogenarians, and women who will need cranes to remove them from their homes after their inevitable, cheese-flavored death (like me!), I don't think I can be blamed. For the most part though, my standards are only really unrealistically high for intelligence. I won't seriously consider trying to woo a woman who isn't at least nearly as smart as I am. I'll flirt, or in the case of my first real girlfriend, fake my way through a relationship for physical gratification, but I probably won't actually give a shit if they aren't smart. Naturally, most smart and pretty women are taken by males superior to me in nearly every way. So in a sense, I'm sort of Zoidbergian.

The smart and pretty women left over generally are a bit fucked up. They're paranoid, or extra neurotic, or have an ex they've never gotten over, or they like to fuck anything that moves which isn't shaped like me. I'm okay with this, because who isn't fucked up? I'm certainly fucked up. My friends are all fucked up. Even among this group, though, I'm usually relegated to the evil and abhorrent Friend Zone (I wrote a blog about rules every homely man should follow to avoid this, but it came out way bitter so I deleted it), which is followed by me splitting and cutting off contact (gradually or suddenly, depending on how likely I am to be murdered for denying a woman of her free compliments-and-sympathy pet), because that sucks. The extremely small pool left over after this, those are my bread and butter. Unfortunately, I'm pretty awkward at the best of times. It's much, much worse if I actually like a girl, because then I get flustered and somehow manage to simultaneously over- and underthink my words. Since my words (and maybe my very pretty eyes) are the only real card(s) I have to play, you can see how this would mess things up. So yeah. I'm just bored.