For all my life I operated under the algorithm, "if you think a girl likes you, it's just your imagination".
Now I think that is true. Every single solitary time I develop romantic feelings I get rejected. This girl didn't
want me, no girl has ever wanted me, and it's pointless to think anyone will.
I once thought that maybe, just maybe, not all women were like my mother, who disliked my weight, intellect, and approach to life. Now I don't think so. I no longer believe that most women can love, or have the capacity to love, in the way I feel I need. All the way is a breadwinner - someone who will give them a lavish lifestyle - and someone who is tall, slim, handsome, muscular, and well-dressed so they can show him off.
Young women may at best want to receive love, but none want to give it. They know their beauty gives them a huge sexual power over men, and they do not hesitate to cruelly use it to get what they want out of men. In their heart of hearts they don't really care about men or their feelings. All they want is a good time - a fancy car, ritzy clothes, and plenty of liquor.
Why have I become so cynical? Because this girl, the nicest girl I'd ever met on AOL, has revealed herself to be as cold and hard as all the others. There is nothing there for me. Love may come to someone who is handsome and tall, but not to me. Some guys got it, and some guys don't, and I don't.
No one will love me as I am. it was naive, even foolish, to believe others.
Only prostitutes will ever sleep with me. But maybe in one sense all girls are prostitutes. A prostitute has sex not for the sex's sake, but for money. Girls too do not actually have sexual desires to speak of (going by their behaviour towards me); they give sex only in exchange for something else, usually money in a different form, or glamour.
I wish I was gay, or a eunuch. The longing for love I feel is too great for me and is wearing me down. I am looking for love amongst young women, but they will never love me. No one will ever love me romantically, which is what I crave the most.
I feel rotten, and worthless, and crushed and despised. Why are women so cruel? Why are they so capricious? What's it take, huh? Do they not have feelings? Do they not have hearts? I did everything I could to help Leslie. I sent her jokes when she fell ill, I answered her academic questions, I wrote her essays for her. When I refused one thing she wanted, I was dropped like a hot potato. Used and discarded like a piece of litter. That's all girls think of me, as a piece of litter, held in utter contempt.
I don't know what to do. Was being held and loved such an impossible thing? Will I never have it? Why? WHY? Why is half the human race so cold and cruel?
Private email, Apr. 27, 1997.