Out of all the problems that have ever or will sex bolts exist on the Earth, there is only one that men haven’t and will never be able to solve — not because they can’t, because that’s ridiculous, but because the problem is unsolvable by design. That’s it, there you have it. The end-all, be-all of cluster fucks.
Do women hate sex — and they do — because of some kind of woman-guilt from an outdated puritan societal dogma? Or perhaps a stigma of guilt or a fear of abandonment? None of these things are it. Women hate sex simply because they are lousy at it.
This can be proved in a quick stroll down the checkout aisle at your local market of groceries — a place thick to the rafters with women. Honestly who gives half a fuck about socks being on or off? Also, much in the same way that a wall probably doesn’t like or doesn’t care about playing tennis with you, it’s definitely not your fault. Don’t let your sympathetic male compassion get the better of you. You could be dancing around like a maniac and pulling stunts out of your figurative ass like Johnny Magic the Wicked Awesome — maybe some whirl-arounds and in your face spikes from across the court — it’s really up to you as the man — but no matter what, the wall will remain unfazed.
This same theory can be applied to many other things as well. For example: that women hate problems. In Chinese, the symbol for crisis is the same as opportunity. I haven’t looked that up, but I heard it from a man so it’s probably true because us men have something called integrity. This means that in a time of crisis, we men are at our show stopping best. Take a flat tire on a moonless night for instance.
While a man is out changing nuts and bolts and doing all manner of screwing on the side of the road, will a woman so much as think to grab a flashlight and help? That’s because women hate holding flashlights, because they are complete rubbish at it. Force a woman to hold a flashlight when it matters and you’re likely to catch her aiming it into the sky for absolutely no goddamn reason. You’re better off just duct taping it to a mailbox and catapulting it into space. This entry was posted under The MANifesto. I Want To Be A Crack Whore When I Grow Up!