The Pussy

The Messiah

We were at dinner. And how’s your dating life, she asked. Well if I like them they don’t like me. If they like me I don’t like them. If they’re pretty they won’t fuck me. If they’re ugly they will. I spend my hours trying to find the prettiest woman who’s just ugly enough to fuck me. I can tell my worth from where the needle lands. But let’s be honest: I’ll fuck anything that moves; I’m an animal; I’ll jerk it to porn where the women look like something they pulled out of the Mariana Trench so why not fuck them in real life. Four months since you left me. I’ve been trying to replace you the whole time. One girl came close; she was 22. Her face wasn’t like yours but she had big tits. She left me too. I was hurting from you and I tried to fix it and now I’m hurting from both of you and the evidence keeps piling up that I’m unlovable. Why won’t you love me. What is wrong with me. I mean, my face, but you always said I was hot– Asian women can’t tell when white men are ugly. And vice versa. One of the few blessings God gave us, in dating. Otherwise, whether we’re loved is dictated by the shape of our skull.

You were with me for my body. She was too. She liked to get fucked bent over my bed because my closet doors are mirrors. I want to look at you, she said. You’re all hot. I looked at myself too. My ass pumping ridiculously, muscles upon muscles. It’s a fine body but it feels like a costume, or a parade float that I drive. It’s not me.

God I miss you so bad.

I’m trying to get over it. My weapon is prayer. Accept that everything is as it should be. Part of God’s plan. The closest I get is: I accept that I’ll die alone. With effort I get to where a couple holding hands on the street doesn’t make me want to hang myself. Try to give to the world rather than take. Be a source of peace to others. Don’t chase pussy, because pussy just makes you need more pussy. You accomplish nothing. Still, I’m gonna go to Thailand. They have temples and birds but I’m there to jerk off using other human beings. They are slaves who will pretend to like me due to poverty. I can’t wait.

You get closer but God Himself won’t stop you being horny. Being lonely. I’m a complex chemical accident honed by pure chance over a billion years and I exist solely to spray the goo from my ball sac into teenagers. That is God’s plan. I suffer for not adhering to it. And yet I suffer too when I comply. Women are awful. If you try you’re doomed. If you don’t try, there are no women to observe you not trying. I don’t hate women but I don’t blame men who do. When will it end. When I find a girl I love who loves me. For a minute I thought that was gonna be you.

Anyway, I’d rather not discuss it, I said. And I’m glad to be friends with you. But now I’m supposed to ask you the same question and the one thing I can’t ever hear is you talking about another man. So let’s move on to other topics. This curry, for instance. Spicy.

In the morning I went to shit out the curry. On the toilet tank was a Kafka book I found on the sidewalk. It said: the Messiah will come only when he is no longer necessary.