Gnip
Bill the Cat
- Oct 10, 2020
- 621
A couple of those girls were friendly college students who I never revealed my name or identity to, so they couldn't look me up, couldn't find me, and they eventually graduated, moved away and went on with their lives. However, I must have made some kind of impact, because they were majoring in subjects which had nothing to do with mental disabilities, yet when I looked them up online years later, they were both working with kids who were disabled or impaired in my ways.
Each girl originally came onto me while they were working as store clerks, and each was also modeling for small companies while in college. Both girls were also very kind and gentle, but I was incredibly angry and frustrated with my situation and explained that to them, which they seemed to understand. My looks and honestly seemed to appeal to them. (After reading "The Sensuous Man" and "The Sensuous Woman" when I thought I might eventually become sexually active, there may also have been a subconscious shift in my mentality which projected outward to girls. The drug store cashier who I purchased "The Sensuous Man" from when I was a teenaged boy was a girl I'd never met before, but she flirted up a storm with in in that quiet store just before closing time and always called my attention to her with a friendly "Hi!" for years whenever she saw me around town.)
I have not ever had any problem attracting pretty girls without any effort on my part, but it doesn't matter what you look like when you're completely poisoned and malfunctioning on the inside. When you can't live with yourself (or even sleep without prescription medication), you're doomed. (I've also had some girls tell me shy male virgins send off some sort of "aura" which acts like a light to attract female moths. I can only take their word for it, but I grew up in an environment which stigmatized sexual promiscuity, not celibate behavior. Getting winks from girls who I've never even spoken to is a devastatingly knee bucking experience to a guy though.)
Wildly though, I owe my best friend to my issues, another pretty girl who was interning for her doctorate in a pharmacy when she asked me how I was doing. She'd never known anybody to have my medication history and asked if I'd be willing to help her clinch her PharmD. I agreed, she told me she loved me the day after she aced her dissertation and declared us friends for life, and she has never allowed me to pay for lunch or dinner. (I've just been consulting with her about my next biannual telephone appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow afternoon.)
Years prior to meeting her, I would sit for hours on end during quiet times in a local restaurant getting endless refills of caffeinated beverages to help me focus on heavy reading material, intense literary research into AD/HD, depression, anger, clinical anxiety, assertiveness, sleep disorders and other life challenges I was battling. Many of those waitresses were young and attractive, students or otherwise dealing with many of those issues in their own lives. One of them was an alcoholic former Penthouse Forum cover girl. Eventually, these waitresses would strike up conversations with me about what I was researching and why as we became increasingly familiar, or tell me about themselves on their own initiative. (I can't read for hours in a library like I can in a restaurant, because I couldn't get my brain continually soaked in caffeine as necessary. I tipped well, and never went to these places when they were busy. But if a pretty young girl strikes up a conversation with me, of course I'm not going to object.)
Sanctioned Suicide is where I've wound up because I've run the full gamut of self help literature, medications and other treatments for depression, AD/HD, obstructive sleep apnea, Asperger's and other problems. At best, I've had some prescribed medications be profoundly effective, but only for very temporary periods of time, then never again after taking drug holidays. (For sleep, melatonin and high dose gabapentin do not help me. Taking substances which are supposed to be naturally occurring in the brain is useless.)
Do I regret never taking advantage of all those romantic/sexual offers I had from all these girls? No, I regret the fact that NOT going for it was the right decision. It's heartbreaking (which is exactly what I told a couple of those girls), but for me to get social with them would have been a massive train wreck. I have retained a conscience I can die with, while those girls never even knew my name. (Meanwhile, my tormentors who masqueraded as teachers, principals and school psychologists had no conscience or souls.)
Nostalgia exists for what should have been, and I miss having hope for a better future, but my reality is envy for the brilliant Katelyn Nicole Davis, who knew at age 12 that the future offers no hope. (She might have already been raped by her stepfather and was possibly facing a year where another rape might have gotten her pregnant while her narcissistic junkie prostitute mother looked the other way. Instead, with her live streamed hanging suicide, she shined a light on her likewise sexually abused toddler half siblings, resulting in her mother finally getting arrested and her children rescued from their hellhole situation. What Katie did was heroic, and "Samaritan" assholes couldn't bury it, couldn't do a fucking thing to prevent Katie's siblings from getting rescued and their mother arrested because Katie live streamed what she did. Respecting her memory means watching her hang herself, because she wanted it to be seen, and because it saved the lives of her siblings and maybe even her own worthless mother's life.)
For both sexes, if you're lonely and looking to make a connection, a simple and casual "How ya doin'?" will usually more than suffice, accompanied with a friendly smile or demure relaxed presentation. (I would not ever contemplate dating online or going to bars. Nobody has to. And homosexual males are the only ones who usually need great anthropology. Incidentally, Terry Garrity, the author of "The Sensuous Woman" was no looker, but was able to score with any guys all she wanted with her magnetic projection of herself. Incidentally, it also turns out she has BPD. Ross Jeffries, the godfather of the covert seduction industry, has described himself as being "on the ugly side of average," but he also attracted all the female action he desired until a surprise heart attack at age 55 blindsided his anti-relationship hedonistic lifestyle. Others who previously indulged in unlimited sexual action have settled down since. As for me, can't miss something I never had...)
In my case that torment has never gone away. I cope by thinking of what a disaster getting involved with those girls might have been. I'll never be capable of a healthy relationship (including with myself).
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