Intricate simplicity of it all

This is pointless.

Far as I've figured, there's two types of women. The ones who everyone could have but would not want, and the ones everyone would want but could not have. Personally I've been spinning in an endless loop of the latter. Reasons for failing have ranged from dormant boyfriends to skillz, or more precisely, lack of.

Then one evening, a random messenger conversation spawned a random idea, involving me randomly calling up a girl from way back to hang out. So I did. And she, albeit a bit startled, liked the idea and we made a date. So my day turned out to be less glum and uneventful than expected, which is nice. And besides, I haven't actually dated anyone for months. Seriously, my only female contact recently has been on the Cakepoker-network with a female avatar called "glxblt". What I didn't realize though, was that the recurring, rather ironious, theme of my sex life was about to make a dramatic re-entry.

You see, I don't like wasting peoples' time. I also see myself as the honest type of bloke, that is to say, I generally speak my mind. With a varying degree of decency. I tend to forget that not all people are like this. So you might imagine me being a bit surprised, and that's surprised as in holy shit Heath Ledger made Joker look good, when I hear that this girl NEVER MEANT to say yes. That she was simply being polite and would not have the heart to turn me down. I mean, slit my wrists and cry me a river, who gives a rat's ass about politeness? As if I'd never been rejected, for fuck's sake. Yeah, next time you wanna be polite, punch me in the face please. It'll piss me off less.

How's this for properly fucked: I switched to study in one of Helsinki's finest universities, hoping, after 5 years of studying, to get a degree that'll perhaps get me into a position where, if I'm lucky, could earn about 1/4 of my current income.

I haven't been awfully drunk in quite a while, and I don't plan to be. Doesn't mix too well with the card tables. Also, being drunk requires a certain type of transport - the public one. Doesn't mix too well with my sanity. So I drive my car. To parties and such. Parties full of people four years younger than myself, all expressing their concern and bewilderment in me not being in an utterly vashnigyered state. Cute. I might just become a miserable alcoholic so as to be accepted in the social circles.

Wait, hold on. Here's an idea. How 'bouts you people learn to approach people (or women, generally) without being intoxicated on the verge of comatose? You won't, and I'm not gonna ask you to. You see, I once learned that other people's drinking habits are NONE OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS.

Guess what else is pointless? Some ridiculous Bible hugging elderly woman of the saviour sort will probably happen to read this blog and I'll be reported to the authorities as the next school assassin.