As the great artist Jonathan Davis once said, “All day I dream about sex, yes, all day I dream about sex.” I compete in exclusive eye-fuck tournaments. I give my friends complimentary lap dances. I fondle men’s beards for kicks.
I am the dominating overlord of truth or dare.
But despite the unlimited opportunity my devilish good looks give me, I’m not satisfied. Even with my legendary sexual escapades, I still feel the need to curl up with someone and watch Buffy at the end of the day.
Finding this someone has been a difficult process, due to my innate nature of lusting after forbidden fruit. I spent several weeks flirting with someone who lived in a land far, far away. I was crushed with someone much older than me for much longer.
There is a new unattainable desired object. I’ve been using the infernal social media machine Facebook to chat with an individual who lives an hour away. This would be problematic in and of itself (I’ve vowed to never be involved in a long-distance relationship again), but the individual in question happens to be the ex-lover of my best friend.
Although my friend and the individual left on good terms, the relationship would be doomed anyways, because they plan to leave for the promised land, Portland, and we are completely different people.
Long story short, humanity’s a pile of shit. Time to be a cat.