Sue me but I want someone to take a common and vested interest in me. Heck an uncommon and wonderful interest in me would be nice as well. Somehow I'm still waiting for that care package from the higher power that lets me know that I am still welcome on this earth. It's never simple, it never seems to get any easier unless by easier you mean easier to cut the strings and then later women wonder why they knock on your front door yet there's never anyone home . . . I'm OK in the wake of a disappointment that would make labor, miscarriage and the worst bout of PMS you can stir up together in a cocktail seem easy to swallow by comparison. I feel numb, cold to the touch with the charm of a charismatic sociopath hanging around me like a shawl or cloak. You want to know why someone or how anyone could get to the point of wanting simple sex without so much as one string or obligation to be fulfilled later? Let me tell you how - you take several disappointments, you sow them together and play them like a repeating cassette. Then you shatter the dream and insert the shards forcibly into someone's rectum or so that they end up deep within the female orifice of choice or puncturing the male shaft. Then you force them to walk, to go to work, to come home, eat, sleep and get up again only to repeat the process until they are dead literally. The process ensures that you create a soulless, heartless monstrosity that is all but immortal and immune to even the sun's or humanity's powerful rays of influence. I still want her, maybe stupidly. I'm almost inclined to to the less than gentlemanly thing and pursue someone else. Any small wonder why I have issues whenever someone tells me I am special?!?!?!? or makes me feel as such?!?!?!? I'd rather you tell use every racial or otherwise offensive word in the book to convey affection to me so I know it's real.