A Modern American Dinner

I met her last week, an internet girl in a city where the girls on the internet are actually attractive. Cute, thin and nice she put on a good front at first. I slept with her within three hours of meeting, but I don’t judge a girl based solely on how fast I sleep with her. Be it irrational confidence or a blinded hamster rationalization on my part, I consider it more my skills than her level of promiscuity.

For our second meet I was lured over with the fact that her roommates were cooking dinner for her birthday weekend. Home cooked meal, I’m in. When I arrive she answers in sweats and a t-shirt. Sigh. It used to be that girls would wait until marriage to be “comfortable.” Then it became when you were seriously dating. These days it apparently sets in on date two.

Upon entering the apartment, I meet her two roommates. The first is fat, second is obese. Neither are girls you would have sex with, even after digesting a barrel of moonshine.

One more person is present, a pretty decent looking guy (no homo). There’s no way he’s with either of them that would be ridic…he is dating the obese one. Shocked I sit down to dinner. I can’t even concentrate on the conversations because I want to grab this guy, slap him in the face and direct him to the Roosh forum or ROK. My girl puts on a trucker hat that says “birthday bitch” on it and proceeds to tell everyone how fucked up she got this weekend. My attraction towards her continues to plummet fast.

Obese one starts talking about a guy at the bar who “wouldn’t leave her alone,” kept telling her how beautiful she was and wanted to buy her drinks. Fat one regales us with the story of the guy she went out with four times and then sent flowers to her work, and now she’s cutting him off because that’s “creepy.” They tell me dinner is from a recipe in a book called 50 Shades of Chicken. Seriously. I am at a loss for words.

Finish dinner and the girls tell me to go relax as they put away the dishes. At least one sane occurrence so far. However obese girl’s bitch man without solicitation cleans up and then starts making dessert. I give up trying to figure this guy out.

Of course they want to watch some reality TV. But not just any reality show, one about male gigolos who have sex with disgustingly fat or old women for money. These girls are loving the show, as is homeboy who apparently has zero self-worth by dating/banging this land whale. I want to gouge my eyes out and it shows, as the girls outwardly say how they’re making a bad impression on me. Yet they just laugh and continue with another episode.

My girl sends a text and puts her phone face down. But she doesn’t even really care that much to be sly. She starts texting another dude about when they are meeting again…right in front of me as my hand is rubbing her vagina. Girls have zero shame these days, it’s remarkable.

I considered just leaving, but I was quite horny, needed my release since I don’t masturbate, and physically I was attracted to the girl I came to see so I’ll let her serve her purpose. I looked at her and felt sorry, the potential of such a cute girl wasted because of her misguided belief and consequent embracing of how modern women are happier being slutty and independent. Or whatever guides her and most other Western girls’ actions these days.

The girls start going to their separate rooms but not before fat one tells obese one and her guy to keep it down during sex. That visual gets burned in my mind, sometimes I wish I stayed plugged in to the matrix. My girl checks her phone a few more times, we bang it out and when we’re done she makes sure to casually mention it’s time for me to get going. I had no desire of staying but it’s good to know the masculinization of women has no boundaries.

Before I go to sleep I replay the night in my head. My first thought was what a bizarro world we live in where obese women have guys fighting for them and girls just use men for sex. My second thought was much worse. I realized this is no longer bizarre, it just is.

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