I spent a tremendous amount of time trying to be the nice guy. Taking girls on dates, calling them 48 hours after our inititial encounters, and even agreeing to meet, have cocktails, and even converse with the parents. For a while, a short while, it made me feel better, made me feel like my old school approach to dating would somehow weed out the lecherous scallywags and encourage the most fitting canidates to stick around. I was wrong. Ultimately women want what’s running away from them the fastest.
I feel awful writing this and even worse letting the concept echo throught the cavernous space in my head…but in my very non-professional opinion, women adore the anithesis of sweetness. Rock stars, artists, and don’t give-a-fuckers don’t get ass because of their artistic pursuits, they conquer conquests because their art alllows them to assume a divine level of elitness. They love their women, but love their craft even more. This allows them to distance themselves from amorous reality, to compartmentalize emtotion and give it away. Each time they give it away some person, somewhere, longs to fill in the emotional void. The void fillers are often lovely, often sweet as an Alaskan day is long, and often hopelessly devoted to a man who can’t love them without being told how.
