Succubi

Something about women bothers me. I don't know if it's the insecurity, the need for plastic boobs and bleach-blondness, or the squealing. I'm rather ashamed to be one sometimes.

While it's no secret that most women dislike each other, or that most women will say very openly that they prefer the company of men to women, I'm beginning to think that there's something wrong with me. I refuse to chain my husband to the wall in the basement as some reasonable substitute for a functional relationship, but for most women, forcing their men to behave is just as good as having a man who wants to behave all on his own.

It's true that the majority of my friends are men, and I've seen more than one broken, busted, reduced to jello by some insecure female. It disgusts me. I have no respect for women who have so little respect for themselves that they'll act like that. What self-determined woman would waste her time with a man who needs coralling? Not I. I see it as a personality flaw. A weakness of spirit. A billboard screaming, "I'm so convinced that I'm not worth being faithful to, that I operate under the constant assumption that my man is perpetually on the verge of misbehavior."

The impetus for all of this? Oldest story in the book: Close friend gets girlfriend, falls off the face of the earth. Anyone understand this? How is it that men aren't totally turned off by that kind of insecurity? Is it some kind of ego trip where they like to be nagged, hovered over, and generally harrassed? I'm in a quandary.

It's one of those problems that would be very easily solved by the rest of the world being just a little more like me, I think... get thee behind me, estrogen!