i'm sure they have pretty little mouths beneath all the foaming

Dear K-

I hate your sex. Look, I’m sorry if that comes off as harsh, but you really shouldn’t be that surprised. Women deserve it. Seriously.

I’m sorry you have to get lumped into this category; it really is quite unfortunate. You, at least, tend to show some redeeming qualities every so often. Why can’t you get the rest of your clan shaped up? Is it really necessary to play such frivolous games? I wonder what satisfaction comes with the process of building up a guy for an entire night or a few days, only to crush his heart with your stiletto heel and a cool catchphrase of “I just want to be friends.” It is as if a girl has some magical ability to morph herself into exactly what you want to see at that point in time, to say just the right things and hint at precisely the right matters. She’s your soul mate for the night. But come second date- she’s tired of that illusion and is wanting to progress on to another one. Why? What’s so wrong with being compatible? Aren’t we designed, as humans, to seek out a proper match for ourselves, to find someone to “grow old with”? If that’s the case, tell your sex that they are screwing everything way the hell up. Write them a memo, send a mass email forward, I don’t care. Just get the word out there.

There are some good guys out there, and though they do enjoy the warm and fuzzy compliment of your flirtation, they desire to prolong the emotion and tap into a more committed and devoted schedule of love.

I could never run like you do, but I still pull out the bike now and then. It just feels good to get out there on the pavement, pumping your legs until they burn so badly you’re afraid to even dismount the bike for fear of your appendages simply melting. Where I go never really matters. I just have to feel that churning rhythm of the pedals, the click on the spokes, the sweaty leather grips of the handlebars. When the wind hits my face sometimes it stings so badly my eyes water. Then the world is transformed into a blissfully beautiful blur of colors and light. It’s like I’m suddenly in a movie where the director has a strong preference for soft focus…and we all know how much more beautiful everything looks in soft focus. You lose the flaws. They just melt away.

But it’s those flaws that I miss. I have to have those individual qualities to find beauty in anything. Take them away, and I’m a bored fellow. I can flip through a magazine and see all the masterfully made up, airbrushed super model plastic faces, but none of them can compare to the earnest smile of a cute girl at a party, making eyes from across the beer pong table. It’s those little nuances and features that catch me, have me begging for more.

Maybe that’s the reason your sex is so flawed. They know that I couldn’t bear it if it was the other way around.

But still, God damn it.

Treading,
-K