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Unfortunately, the same would come true for myself when it came to women, which is why getting a hug from a woman in a bar was actually a lot more impressive than it should’ve been for a grown man. I broke up with my college girlfriend just before the end of my senior year having grown accustomed to having a beautiful, wonderful girl be completely devoted to me, so I assumed that’s the way it would always be. Then I made the mistake of actually graduating, and went from being somewhat of a “Big Man on Campus” to “the guy that works at Sir Speedy.” I hadn’t realized that the reason girls were perfectly happy with guys who lived like college students was because they were, in fact, college students, and living like a fat slob in arrested adolescence wasn’t so lovable in the real world. I found myself demanding women accept “me for who I am!”, growing more and more bitter each time an accomplished and beautiful woman “thought she was too good” to be with a fat, drunk loser living in glorified squalor. The more years that passed, the more I clung to this lifestyle in a sort of pathetic defiance, and began to just fantasize about women (any woman I saw was in danger of being a “Mrs. _______”, and a complete relationship would be played out in my mind, varying in length from minutes to years, with her remaining completely oblivious to the life she was living in my head) instead of trying to better myself in order to actually get one. I was in danger of becoming like the old, retarded guy from my hometown who created “baseball lineups” of women around town that he wanted on his “team,” and I knew that eventually, as with him, avoiding my sloppy, amorous greetings would be a talent passed on from mother to daughter for generations to come.
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