need a fucking woman at my life after all. I need one of these beautiful fucking creatures to tame my stupid fucking savagery and my toxic masculinity. I need one of these glorious fucking HPV princesses who gets free creampie pills on the taxpayer dime to let me inside her sloppy fucking haunted-ass pussy with its 1 in 4 chance of having had an abortion. I totally love sleeping next to the site of a fucking murder and the scene of a gangbang at the same time. I definitely need to invest time and effort into making one of these hookers happy, and it’s totally worth losing everything I’ve ever worked for, because who wouldn’t want some cellulite-having, vain, bitchy, trashy, melodramatic, 1950’s-housewife intoxicated bipolar permapregnant unironically-a literal-witch slut of a fucking cunt having fucking period sharts in bed next to them all night? They have so much to offer me. And women my age are definitely SO fucking mature. I don’t understand how this generation of women who walk around in their fucking pajamas and underwear and driving their parent’s minivan to grown-up daycare so they can get drunk and high and just drip cum from every orifice all fucking day until they have a degree can’t find husband’s. It just fucking baffles me how this generation of alcoholic cumdumpsters fingering themselves and vaping in bed to vampires and dragons in a shitty one-bedroom apartment with their sweaty fucking bras and yoga pants scattered all over the place smelling like cat piss with some stupid fucking mandala tapestry can’t find mature, functional men to marry. This generation of wine-drunk, sweatpants-and-tee shirt-wearing, scrambled-eggs-burning, hot fries eating, cheeto-dusted, yerba mate drinking ⠀self sterilizing hormonal research chemical experiments gone horribly fucking wrong needs me to man up.