“Hey, son, I never told anyone…”

 

 

Men like me, who reached sexual maturity before the internet, often bemoan the lack of available knowledge in dealing with the opposite sex when we most needed it.

And they’re right to do so.

But,  as usual, my reasons for doing such are different than most.

 

 

See, most men in that category do so because they lament the countless missed opportunities.

Now, I’d be a fool and a liar to say I did not feel the same.

To a point.

But mine goes deeper, and darker, than that.

 

 

I wish I’d had the currently available knowledge then because:

I’d have hung up on more women than I can remember once they started bitching about some non-problem or another.

I’d have kept the money I earned working in America’s most dangerous city rather than fuel some flakey broad’s whims.

I’d have put my foot down sooner and saved myself a shit-ton of trouble long before it circled around and bit me in the ass.

Hard.

I’d have taken break-ups for what they were; something all too frequently more easily replaced than changing a tire.

I’d have had better sex with far less effort.

[I have a theory that a woman’s sexual skill is slightly inversely proportional to how hot she is.

Since hot girls think their looks is all that’s necessary in the bedroom.

But that’s for another post, another day.]

 

 

Now, some may read this post and say:

“So you’re saying you wish you knew then what you know now so you could have been more of a dick?!”

 

 

Yep.

That’s it exactly.

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