“I’ve seen them crawl from the cradle to the gutter on their knees…”

~

 

 

It’s been said, many times, that:

“Love is a drug.”

Like so many pieces of concise wisdom, few understand–or even comprehend–the gravity and Truth of such.

 

 

Indeed, love is certainly such a thing.

It induces euphoria, inflames desire and creates a slavish devotion.

Even the most experienced PUA (in fact, especially such a man) longs to be enthralled by a woman’s laugh.

Captured by the glimmer in her eyes.

Born aloft on the scent of her hair.

Inebriated by the taste of her lips and breasts.

Any man that’s experienced it, even once, will “chase the dragon” again.

And again.

And again.

 

 

 

But love, akin to every other drug, destroys the man that immerses himself in it.

Like any other junkie, he eventually (though seemingly suddenly, as time plays tricks with things such as this) finds himself flung headlong into penury; ruined and shell of all he once was.

 

 

 

Women rarely suffer this Fate at the hands of men.

As women do not love men [as I’ve stated, previously].

However, women frequently succumb to such tragedy at the tiny hands of children, if no man is present to curb the female’s devotion.

 

Ω