So, I fell in love with this girl, see. I didn't really "fall," though. It was sort of a logical decision. I decided I was in love with this girl exactly one week ago Saturday at 9:43 PM. I was sitting in my recliner in the dark listening to pretentious jazz music and pondering the meaning of life when I had decided that I missed my girlfriend. I had never really missed anyone before, so I thought this must be love. I showered, applied cologne to my neck in hopes of tricking her into inhaling some of my pheromones, and gave her a ring with my cell phone and asked her if she was busy. She said she wasn't, so we arranged a meeting. See, the thing was:

I ended up walking home that night with a dry dick. As to why my penis remained dry and my worldview had been completely shattered, I might never know. She hasn't spoken to me since, despite me putting my entire brain and brain into a poem I wrote for her and put on her doorstep. Poetry, I found out, is an excellent way to lure a mate. I picked up that handy gem from some evolutionary psychologist. Geoffrey Miller, I think. Anyway, here's the poem:

For your swift and just punishment:

Please, Don't Just Pass This Message On By

Onto this planet, a speck in the void, the universe placed both our souls.
Unclear of a purpose, as children, we search the four corners for our roles.
With no tools in my belt to aid me, no compass or map as a guide,
I've been stumbling blindly through darkness, for something grasping far and wide.

Many times have I thought that I found what I seek, but the feeling just didn't seem right,
No matter how strongly I try to deny it, I'm still stuck in perpetual night.
Atop the chasm which divides life from death, at a loss for what I should do,
Dare I plunge headfirst into the death known as giving up--- but luckily, I've met you.

Like a lighthouse to a ship which seems lost at sea, blinded by endless fog,
You radiate life from your glorious being, saving this poor luckless dog.
I know in my heart that you must be the very thing I've been searching for,
So please will you be mine, I beg you- if not I will kill myself and the blood will be on your hands.


But all that takes place after that faithless Saturday night. The moon wasn't full but you could gather that it wanted to be, the stars were doing that romantic thing they do, and I walked down her street with purpose. She welcomed me inside her home with an endearing gaze and a stance that exuded fertility. She was wearing that cute little red dress I had purchased for her in the week prior. Red is the color of passion, did you know that? I knew that, and that's why I bought it. My dick was getting hard, so I knew it was working. We hugged and sat down together and did that thing we do. I took her hand and told her I had something to tell her. "I have something to tell you," that's what I told her. Our conversation is pretty much as follows:

"Listen, Sam (Samantha), we've been going out for about what, two months now?"
"Yes," she said and continued looking into my eyes.
"Well, I've decided that I love you."
She smiled. "I love you too, Toddler Fondler." (My name isn't Toddler Fondler, of course, I'm just saying that for topic clarity. My actual name is Larry Kidkiller.)
I smirked and said, "Delightful. Now we can make babies. Take off your panties. Wait, shit, are you ovulating? We'd better find out."
"What?!" she said. She was shocked. Her shock shocked me. She just told me she loved me and she was acting like I was a lunatic. I don't get it, the topic title says.
"You're fertile, I am gifted in physical prowess. We can make this work."
She continued staring at me in horror.
So I said, "We're in love, silly. I'll inseminate you and protect you from predators so you can bear my offspring."

As I was walking home with my dry penis dangling in my boxers, I couldn't help but ponder the true meaning of love as I took in the moon's pleasant rays and made faces out of its craters. The man on the moon, I concluded, was incredibly lonely and probably jerked off a lot. His lack of contact with women forced him to idealize them and made his brain fantasize about elaborate romantic scenarios involving, but not limited to: embracing in the rain, watching the stars with your head on her lap, and holding hands in the park. "Et cetera," I verbalized as I finished that thought and put the following away message up on my instant messenger service before I jumped into bed and stared at the ceiling:

"A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake."

"That's Poe," I verbalized. I miss Samantha still, but I refuse to fall in love with a woman that doesn't even know what love is. What has this world come to? I thought as my eyes grew heavy and closed and my brain dreamed dreams of a logical humanity.


-

Good read.

..the fuck..

Good read.

Indeed it was

Nice.

By the by, the Poe quote at the end is taken completely out of context. But I like it better that way.

Fucking Asian, shouldn't you be somewhere studying?

Fucking Asian, shouldn't you be somewhere studying?

I'm not Asian. I can't believe you took that "I'm Lucy Liu" topic seriously. Dumb fatty fat fat fatty fat.

HAHAHA. Your story made me smile. +1 even though it's either complete creative bullshit or you're extremely stupid and lacking in self awareness.

..the fuck..

5char

are you like...fucked in the head

This gets my seal of approval. That was awesome. Too bad that bitch was too immature to handle the real deal.

Fucking beautiful.

Define "fucked in the head".

Chrome (what is he up to now? XM?) would approve.

Haha, I really like your writing style.

I've dreamed dreams of logical humanity before. Too bad it won't happen.

made me laugh.