A bit of context: what follows is in response to a blog entry by Binx about a very lame attempt to hit on her on MySpace.
As a group, guys want sex. We're just not sure how to get it. We tend to try something, and if that doesn't work, we move on to something else. If lots of people are pursuing one avenue, it's safe to think that sometimes, that pick-up method works at least sometimes. It's why guys drive expensive cars or wear nice clothes or buy girls drinks. Those things work. I have a hard time believing that many, many guys are out their beating their heads against the wall wondering why "Those clothes would look better on my floor" doesn't work but never trying some other methodology.
Some MySpace girls must surely be waiting to get into gross amateur porn with someone they don't know for no compensation. People are weird, and interest are varied. That line of logic is particularly amusing when applied to construction site cat-calls. Surely some women walking by must think, "You know, I would like to see that guy's other hard hat."
Sorry to pontificate, but I'm just trying to explain why if you ever make your way to Mississippi around Christmas, you may see me drunk on my porch asking if you want to see Frosty the Snowman. He'll be in my pants.
As a group, guys want sex. We're just not sure how to get it. We tend to try something, and if that doesn't work, we move on to something else. If lots of people are pursuing one avenue, it's safe to think that sometimes, that pick-up method works at least sometimes. It's why guys drive expensive cars or wear nice clothes or buy girls drinks. Those things work. I have a hard time believing that many, many guys are out their beating their heads against the wall wondering why "Those clothes would look better on my floor" doesn't work but never trying some other methodology.
Some MySpace girls must surely be waiting to get into gross amateur porn with someone they don't know for no compensation. People are weird, and interest are varied. That line of logic is particularly amusing when applied to construction site cat-calls. Surely some women walking by must think, "You know, I would like to see that guy's other hard hat."
Sorry to pontificate, but I'm just trying to explain why if you ever make your way to Mississippi around Christmas, you may see me drunk on my porch asking if you want to see Frosty the Snowman. He'll be in my pants.
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xoxo