How to get girls
and other expert dating advice.

This is hands down the best advice you'll ever hear. Write it on your wall right now. In fact, tattoo it on the inside of your eyelids:

FORGET ABOUT HER.

People always wonder about the meaning of life. I know the answer. The meaning of life for women is to deprive men's lives from having any meaning. That way neither gender has a meaning and we both live and die miserable and pointless lives.

Have you ever been on a date and gone home with something besides a used condom stuck to your underwear? Have you ever taken a girl out to dinner and had anything exciting happen besides the traditional ten second orgasm? Hell no. I have never gone on a date and left with a new car or a pay raise or new toy of any kind. Zero. Ever. Girls are a waste of time.

Some girls don't even grant you the ten seconds of pleasure that you worked so hard to achieve. You go on a date and stare at her tits all night wishing she'd shut up. Girls should wake up and realize how much we don't care. Why do they think we take them out to dinner? It's because their silence while chewing is worth an $80 check. You throw a steak in front of her and hope she'll pause to eat it which will allow your brain time to forget all the garbage she just spewed out at you, but she keeps yakking. How do they do that? The female mouth is an amazing organ. It's probably the most tenacious thing on the planet. You could cut out her tongue, stick a ball gag down her throat, slice her vocal chords to little pieces, and she'd still sit there yakking away like a little dog. More yakking. Yak yak yak.

Back in the day, women couldn't yak unless men allowed them to. We came off as assholes, but we just wanted some silence. Rebellious females all over the world formed groups of feminists who created conspiracy theories about men being control freaks and wanting power. Hell no, we just wanted you to shut the fuck up for two seconds and spread your legs. That's it. You can have the power, just give us the pussy.

Guys know how it works. We've known for a long time. Girls, this is my dating advice for you. I made it into poem format because that might rub on smoother:

Men have power,
women have vagina.
If women want power,
trade for it with vagina.

(Notice how I rhymed power with power and vagina with vagina? That's not because I'm a bad poet, it's because women need to be told at least twice before they have any chance of understanding something.)

Women want both power and purity. These days, it's not uncommon for a virgin to be class president. Back in the day, if a girl wanted to get high up in the system, she had to put out like a pornstar. A female campaigning back then would consist of a girl crouched on her knees in the hall, smiling like the Holland Tunnel with cum dribbling out her lips and mumbling, "Vote for me."

Anyway, back to the prude girl scenario. You get through the date and a wave of disgust washes over you as you come to realize that she's not going to put out. You hide it (because there's always a chance next time), kiss her on the cheek, and leave. When you get home, you sit on your bed, shake your head, and think, "Wow, what the hell happened to my night? I'm cold, lonely, sober, and all I have to show for it is a cum stain on my pants from dry humping that bitch's couch all night long." You vow to never waste time on a girl ever again. Needless to say, the next day you're calling her up lying about what a great time you had, hoping the second date will be golden.

I had a girlfriend a while ago. It lasted an entire year. When I try to recollect anything from that twelve month period, I get a big "Error 404: Page Not Found" in my brain. Relationships are the black hole of memory. Nothing productive ever happens. Christians always talk about that thirty year period when Jesus was unaccounted for. Christ wasn't studying Buddhism or up in heaven with God. Hell no. He had a girlfriend. Jesus says to his girlfriend, "Darling, people are dying, I need to go outside and save them." She yaks back, "No, you're staying home and we're cuddling on the couch for eight hours while I complain about an evil woman at my job."
"But honey, we've done that every day for the past twelve years. Don't you understand? I'm the fucking chosen one. Man you're a stupid bitch. Jesus fucking Christ. When I'm elected god, you're the first person to get AIDS."
"What's AIDS?"
"It's a disease I'm going to invent to annihilate fa... Nevermind. Come here and bless my giant erection with your holy face."
"I don't want to suck your dick, your cum tastes like soggy communion."
"Okay, I'll turn my jizz into wine, just get over here."

What really sucks is that none of that rationalizing matters. Sex drive is beyond any logic or rational thinking. No matter how much a guy tries to clear his mind of girls, they keep popping up like a boner on oral presentation day. Our lives revolve around an orgasm and it's sickening. I sicken myself. All I do is sit around thinking about sex. Who I'd like to fuck, places I'd like to fuck, celebrities I'd like to fuck, animals I'd like to... see at the zoo with a girl before I fuck her. I have a few goals in life. While some seem good-hearted and admirable, all my plans derive right down to my overwhelming sex drive.

My Life Goals

1. Win the Nobel Peace Prize (so I can fuck hot librarians).

2. Win a gold medal in the Olympics (so I can fuck hot gymnists).

3. End world hunger (so Ethiopian hotties will live long enough to reach puberty and I can fuck them).

4. Swim the Puget Sound (so I can get buff and chicks will want to fuck me).

5. Save the rainforests (so I can fuck hot native tribal princesses).

6. Form a kickass band (so I can fuck hot groupies).

7. Fuck a girl (so I can get better at fucking girls and fuck more girls).

8. Get married (so that when I'm too old to fuck girls, I can still fuck a girl).

9. Have kids (because eighteen years of pain is worth that one night of no protection).

See? It's ridiculous. I know every other hereterosexual guy out there feels the exact same way. They read this and think "Yeah, that's sad but true." Girls read this and think "Wow, I better act offended because I know he's right and I don't want to be faced with the awful truth because I'm a girl and I have a very hard time accepting the truth when I would rather it were a lie." Females get pissed at guys who say this kind of thing because they want it to be a lie. They say we degrade women. We're not degrading women, we're telling the truth. That's like saying, "Rocks are heavy" is degrading rocks. That is the truth. Girls, it's like a penis - we know it's hard, but you have to learn to deal with it.

The female fantasy consists of a man who loves them. It will never happen. Men don't love you, they love the sex you and your friends provide. Need proof? Go get married and the second you get to your honeymoon suite, tell the man that you've vowed a life of celebacy. He'll spend a few hours trying to convince you to change your ways, but when it appears futile, he'll divorce you that night and say it was because the kids are too much of a responsibility. What kids? You don't even have kids yet. Shut the hell up. Guys... want... sex. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Break through that barrier of estrogen and get it through your cute little skulls.

One more time:

MEN... WANT... SEX.