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Apr 27, 2024 11:10
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- pathetic little tramp
- Dec 12, 2005
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by Hillary Clinton's assassins
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Fallen Rib
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What's the context on that one, did she dump him or something?
no clue as to who the girl is, but he creeped on a girl on facebook, stole her phone number and tried to call her to ask her out, leading to the walmart he works at to shun the hell outta him
http://www.girlsaskguys.com/dating/a30817-an-open-letter-to-women-thanks-for-nothing
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As it is, I will never approach another woman again. That nice guy that was once inside of me is completely dead. Dead, and you killed him. You crucified him. You nailed him to the Cross.
His whole history is solid reading material
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This one was 17 years old, a college student, who, like me, had graduated high school a year early. Her name was -withheld- and she was very beautiful. Arguably even more beautiful than the first coworker who rejected me. She was blonde and petite, which are precisely my tastes. And she was in my department at the front end, taking a break in the cafe. Normally I would have just let it go, and drudgingly performed my job like any other day. But lately I have been on the prowl, constantly asking women out because I realize that mathematics is my only hope. I am never going to be Chad Thundercock. So my only hope is mathematics. I have to ask out so many women that eventually one of them will have to say yes per the laws of probability.
I was not expecting a "Yes." In fact, I was still recovering from my recent rejection. Expecting another rejection, and resolving that things could not possibly get any worse, I decided to do it. Putting on my orange vest to gather shopping carts from the parking lot, I unenthusiastically approached this girl and asked her if I could have her phone number, explaining that I thought she was very pretty and would like to take her out someday if she was interested.
Fuckin Chad Thundercock keeps takin all his women
edit:
oh god i found another photo, whoever this woman is she does not want to be here, she is in very real danger and looking around the room for potential weapons to use
context clues lead me to believe it is his mother (but obviously a stepmom?) 
pathetic little tramp fucked around with this message at 23:05 on Aug 30, 2016
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Aug 30, 2016 23:00
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- pathetic little tramp
- Dec 12, 2005
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by Hillary Clinton's assassins
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Fallen Rib
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I'm reading through Seņor hoverhands history and this whole drat thing holy poo poo this whole drat thing, I strong-emphasised some choice bits:
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From the way she held me tightly in her arms when I was an infant to the way she consoles me today as a self-harmer, no woman has had a greater impact on my life than my mother. As girlfriends and even wives come and go in this age of infidelity, selfishness, and instant gratification, she is the one woman I can count on to always be there for me. There are many great mothers out there, but none of them quite compare to my mother. She falls in a league of her own. And for that she deserves my praise, as I call to remembrance the unwavering care, dedication, and love that I have been fortunate enough to receive from her throughout the years.
From the wonderful foods that she always cooks for me
...Like enchiladas
Or better yet, enchiladas and rice because it is the little things like always going out of her way to prepare two or more side dishes for every meal that bear witness to how loving she is.
That and her tamales, because her tamales are my favorite. Christmastime is a glorious time indeed.
To the little things that make me feel loved
Like how she still purchases me birthday cakes even though I am 20 years old
And through her love and support, helped me to finish my first year of college with a 4.0 GPA after an unprecedented move among other hardships at the time.
...My mother has always been there for me.
She is the woman who taught me to love what I see in the mirror and smile even when I feel like I have nothing to smile about. From when I feel too short or unattractive to when I allow my over analytical mind to think itself into a panic and subsequently self-harm, my mother is there. I can always rely on her to wipe away my tears even when my world feels like it is about to collapse.
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"The storms of life are not frightening to one in whose heart shines the light of Your fire. All around the weather is bad--there is darkness, horror, and the howling wind. But in the soul of such a one there is peace and light," ~ The Akathist of Thanksgiving.
She is the reason why I have not killed myself yet or become a barely functional alcoholic who lives off of pay per view porn and frozen dinners. If it were not for her, I never would have graduated as valedictorian and student of the year, or acquired that 4.0 GPA in college, and for that matter ever really applied myself to anything at all. I would be a miserable underachiever doomed to a life of mundanity, isolation, and loneliness with no prospects of a wife beyond my own hand.
She taught me to be happy even amidst the face of uncertainty, change, and conflict. When I allow my social anxiety to get the best of me and/or feel like women will never like me, she is there to lift my spirits. Her presence alone evokes joy, comfort, and encouragement to take action and be happy.
But more than that,
My mother is the type of person I can always talk to about anything no matter what
And this is probably what I love most about her. Whereas my father is either distant and/or incapable of this without resorting to anger, my mother is open to talk to me about everything and anything, always there to provide me with the advice and guidance that I yearn for so badly. She is the one who encouraged me to major in English, since pursuing my dream is more important than monetary success. Perhaps most of all and very significantly, she has never shied away from teaching me about sex and answering my questions about it, both as a child and as an adult today.
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I remember back when I was in 8th grade, my mother allowed me to ditch school and we spent the entire day together at the local historic park before seeing a movie later that evening. This is perhaps the greatest memory I have with my mother.
In many ways she had to play the role that my father should have played because he was too weird, prudish, and/or downright awkward to do it himself. I say this not to rail against my father, but to emphasize how great my mother was. She taught me strong Christian values and traditional morality pertaining to sex, but she also taught me the mechanics of it and never shamed me for being curious about it no matter how explicit my questions were. Never have I had to feel odd for talking to my mother about these things, or confiding in her that I'm a virgin, or that I am attracted to such and such a woman. Again, all of which is in stark contrast to my father.
My mother is a woman of glamor and fitness. From dropping thousands over the years at Sephora to counting calories and devoting hours at the gym, my mother takes pride in her physical appearance. She is living proof that despite the excuses given by fat women on here, any woman can lose weight if she works hard at it. My mother had 3 children yet has the figure of a supermodel. What is your excuse? More than that though, my mother is not the shallow type either. I'm sure many of you are already generalizing her as a gold digger or snob, but my mother is nothing like that. In fact, she used to bake snacks for her Church and once volunteered to prepare food for homeless people on Thanksgiving.
She taught me that love actually exists, that a woman can actually love a man who is way below her league. I learned this by observing the way she has loved my father throughout the years, despite him being overweight, middle-class, and a dick at times. She is living proof that the neckbeards are wrong: there are beautiful women out there who are not shallow and can love a man below them. My mother provides me with a priceless model of how a woman ought to treat a man.
She was the one who encouraged me to pursue the girl of my dreams when I was just a shy, socially awkward 16 year old in desperate need of a haircut.
My mother gave me the life that she herself never had the privilege of enjoying.
The youngest of 6 girls and a bitterly divorced mother, my mother's childhood was difficult to say in the least. Her father was out of the picture for the most part, and her mother my grandmother was the irresponsible type who never should have had children to begin with. That and she was mean and abusive, along with my mother's older sisters (with the sole exception of the oldest) who made her life a living Hell marked by panic attacks, anxiety, and things that would have drove me to suicide. But my mother never gave up.
And perhaps to her detriment, she has never once felt sorry for herself even when I wish that she would. She got pregnant with me at 15 years old, and contrary to taking the cowardly, infanticidal way out like so many girls before her via abortion, she opted to keep me, and strive to give me the life that she never had. From sleeping in my father's car to avoid her thieving heroine junkie of a sister to taking me to the park and spending what little money she had to purchase me McDonalds, my mother was selfless beyond belief. She always put me first.
I try to show her how grateful I am by purchasing her flowers like the bouquet above. The green symbolizes the Holy Spirit while the purple is the Crucifixion and the white the Resurrection. But I know that no flowers no matter how beautiful they may be can ever repay her for what she has done for me. She is the reason why I will get out of bed every morning, why I will go to work, why I will get that 4.0 GPA, why I will make my dreams a reality, why I will marry a sexy blonde woman, why I will put the blade down, and why I will face the world when I would much rather give up and flee.
I learned from my mother selflessness, and the value of putting others before yourself. She taught me that love is not merely a fleeting emotion like its secular bastardization via the Enlightenment, but that it is a conscious, self-emptying sacrifice whereby the recipient comes before the giver. Even when that recipient was a pedantic, ungrateful little poo poo who never deserved it. What St. Monica was to my patron St. Augustine of Hippo, so my mother is to me. The old adage that you will never meet a woman as good as your mother applies especially to me. She will always be #1 in my life.
code:http://i.imgur.com/sjNqLFi.jpg
From his other posts:
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And as a result, you have lost me. You lost a sincerely nice guy who believed in you. And I hope that you are happy. Of all the men you could have destroyed, from the Chad Thundercocks to the real misogynists, you chose to destroy me simply because I was meek, respectful, and an easy target. You chose to destroy the soft-spoken virgin who wears a Holy Trinity necklace and purchases his mother flowers every night after work. You chose to destroy your only friend.
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I'm the guy who drinks coffee and reads Edgar Allen Poe over the weekend. My life consists of school, church, masturbation, and a couple hobbies like reading and writing. Every once in a while I will roam around the mall aimlessly when I am bored and accompany my mother on her many hair appointments.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPQ_Ac0uQr0
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Aug 31, 2016 00:11
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Aug 30, 2016 21:47
