This one is to all the ladies out there.
You know, those foxy-single-estrogen-spewing-interested-intellectuals-who-read-blogs-by-struggling-nobodies. You know, those late-night-visiters-to-random-pages-because-they-are-trying-to-stave-off-boredom. You know, those picturesque-bombshells-and-grotesque-ogres-alike.
You know, the girls.
Oh my ladies, how you treat me by reading this. Your presence. Your perfume. Your complexion. It’s all too flattering. Heart-warming, even.
This, of course, is addressed to the one woman who reads my blog. My mother.
Sadly, that is a joke. My mother has not yet read my blog. I told her I started one, and she asked me if it was for hippies. I said no. She said good. We haven’t spoken since.
She also can’t access Google, so she will never find my blog. She spells it Goggle. Unfortunately, she doesn’t understand the difference between the two, and this is only worsened as she tries to “Goggle” the answer.
But I am not here to discuss my mother. She’s an amazing woman and I will never repay the debt she has given me. Instead, I am here for girl talk – or really just to talk about girls.
So, ladies, let’s get something straight: you are all too beautiful. Every single one of you. Whether blonde or brunette, black or white, and anything in between, you girls are stunning. I open my eyes and see art clothed and curved. Priceless sculptures from flesh and bone; the beauties that make all else beautiful. For only because of you can any other thing dubbed as beautiful have something to compare to.
And goddammit, it isn’t fair.
Us bumbling buffoons of testosterone and sweat and anxiety have to try to woo you, beauts that you are, in some fashion. It’s our sole purpose: sex. Procreation. Getting it on. So, in attempt to skew natural selection in our favour, and to have the most natural select us, we become the biggest, the strongest, the smartest, the whatever, only to catch a fleeting moment of your attention.
Whichever path we take attracts different types of girls. It is sexual selection at it’s finest. The strongest get the gorillas, the smartest, the crows. Who get’s the bitches? The dogs – or just the ones who like to wag their front tail vigorously.
So where does that leave a guy like me? Single, and writing a blog about girls.
But enough about that. I only mention all girls unfounded beauty, and boys unrequited attempts to capture it, because I feel it is in due order. Too often one hears about how Suzy Cue cries about Joe Blow. She should never. Tears were never meant to fall like waterfalls; girls were never meant to cry about boys.
Girls, realize you have the power. All of it. To reproduce. To drive men wild. To have all eyes fall on you. Some boys will be vehemently jealous, even mad. They will call you names. They will trick you. But if anyone ever calls you ugly, imagine them with horns on their face because they are just talking bullshit.
And girls, if you ever believe any of the foolishness that boys try to sell, with their muscles, their mustaches, and their manliness, then think again. If you don’t see that you are beautiful, look into a mirror. If you still think you are ugly, shatter that mirror, rebuild it, and look again. If you don’t want to do that, read this blog.
For here I am, a mirror mirror on the wall, letting all the women know that they are all the fairest of them all.