Bulletin Board of Bad Behavior

ok, so i run into my ex. Here i've been suffering for the longest time, but after seeing her and talking with her, she is the most confused person i have ever known. in a devious way, it made me feel good, real good. She doesn't know what the hell she wants. She was always inhibited on going out for drinks, or going to parties, or going to movies, plays, readings, anything. She has problems. I am willing to be very assuming when i say all women are like that. they don't have the slightest clue. women, feel free to argue with me here, but you are without a doubt the most mysterious species on this planet.

My ex has a new guy in her life, so i ask her is she happy with him. She pauses for like ten seconds and says, "well....i guess so."
HAHA I say. She is someone who can't go a day in her life without a guy by her side. Doesn't matter who it is. She showed me a picture of this guy and he's like 27, balding, glasses, wheres polo shirts, i mean a real fucking square. So i say, "after going out with me for three years, you have succumbed to this square?" She wasn't very happy about that. What is it with women who think a square with a large wallet will treat her any better than a bloke with no money, but only love to give? I say love sucks, women suck(not just one way Mc) and being alone is great for a while, until all the bullshit swells up in your head again like a backed up toilet bowl. Only when it starts overflowing do you have to clean the mess up again.

I wonder if there's any cute guys with nice women like bodily features that don't bitch, don't complain, dont cry, dont pout, and don't get pms. Give me a call, I'm game, but I might keep my eyes closed.

I was going to post a message that would make you puke out your guts in a manner similar to the vivid description you gave of the other Jack's end, but I didn't want to
Okay, women are mysteries. What makes them more mysterious than say, you. Generalizations make me want to argue. Once this poet said she didn't want a white person to write her biography because they wouldn't understand her point of view. No, shit! Generalizations! I don't understand anyone, not one, other person's point of view, I'm not that person. I didn't grow up in his or her head; how could I understand? I don't understand my husband, I don't understand my mother either, and our sex has nothing to do with it; it's our heads! It's not that I don't want to understand them or try; it's just they come to life with all the stuff that's in their heads, and unfortunately I'm not psychic, and even when they explain themselves there's an endlessness to the semantics. All these abstract words and thoughts, and I can't see the pictures in their heads that go with them. When you were a little kid, in the grocery cart being pushed around by your mom, did you ever look at another little kid and think I wonder what it's like in his head? I did, and then I forgot about the weird sensation it gave me until much later, when I read that thing about the poet, and then I realized sex, race, culture, heredity, none of it provides understanding. Because our heads change everything, mix it all up, and then paint it a new way. I don't try to understand people, not really. I look at them, and see things I think I like or don't like, and understand that it's my acceptance or rejection and my perception that is creating or destroying them. I don't have a God complex either, it's just how much about another person can you know, and beyond that understand? (And Jack, I like you because I know I understand the very least about you! To me, you are quite a mystery!)

Maybe the post should read "Jack Chiefton, simply overrated."

That would sum me up.