Guilty.

I'm guilty now, and I don't know what I've done.

Supposedly, I deeply offended someone tonight, and I honestly wish I hadn't. The ironic thing is, is that I completely deserted someone else, and she didn't give a shit, and yet somehow I manage to mortally offend another person without even realizing it. It's perplexing.

It doesn't matter how old and mature people get, they're still offended by drunken bullshit you pull without even understanding what it is you're doing. This depresses me somewhat.

I find myself longing for a time when my words weren't considered gospel, and my presence was not regarded as someone's ticket to an enjoyable evening. I rather like my friends who can do without me.

Strange thoughts. I wonder if these emotions are brought to light simply because a person does not want to sleep alone tonight. That's understandable, I guess. I know I'm not looking forward to it.

Spark.

She's making me think warm thoughts again. I have no desire to sleep with her; and yet she is the most attractive and inviting person in my life right now.

I'm tired of sleeping with all the women I know, which is maybe why I don't particularly want them around anymore. And what will I think of her, when and if I do the deed? Will I just avoid her, too? Lose respect for her? We only want what we can't have, I guess... hmm.

You never want to fall in love, but what other name is there for how I feel?

Pussi.

Caught between two worlds, as it were: performing for, sociologically speaking, two little girls... were they interested? Are they interested? It's so hard to tell these days, what with women's rights and free will and all.

And another one. I've approached her several times and she appears willing, but something about me's obviously not sitting right with her. My hair? My clothes? My general attitude? Anyhow, she read some poems that actually moved me... well, one of them, anyway. Am I solely interested in the poetry because of her, or is it the other way around? We beta males do so love our creative women. The other day I had a conversation with a friend, and we came to the conclusion that the chief benchmark of an alpha male is how he treats women: if he talks to and them very differently from how he talks to men, he's an alpha. Betas tend to measure people by the same standard, regardless of whether or not he can fuck them.

When I'm hitting on girls, I have no idea whether I'm trying to lure them into bed or just trying to be their friend, and frankly, there's no real difference: I'd have the same conversation either way. All I have is my friendliness and my humor. I'm not picking up girls by use of my rock-hard abs here.