I was going through one of my notebooks (#7), and I found this gem. It was written November 23, 2006. It's about the guy I went out with, and it's full of fire. My feelings have since changed. Also, all grammatical errors found are exactly the way I wrote them five years ago, I have changed nothing about the text.
"The man of my dreams doesn't drive a fancy car, or have all the money in the world. Oh, no. He's settled in his job, even if from time to time he despises it, the pay is little, and he's forced to wear dress pants. All I ask is he treats me well, lavishes me when he feels, and have a good heart."
The above paragraph sounds ideal, yes? Don't believe that shit. The paragraph above describes my ex-boyfriend, the biggest dickweed on Earth. Love is for the fairy-tales, which; in my opinion, ought to be outlawed. Fairy-tales allow little girls to believe our Prince Charmings await in some castle keep, white steed by his shoulder, and holding the god-damn glass slipper. Love is a bunch of hooey, and we girls/women are powerless to the nauseating montage of "ideal" romantic relationships, with the dozen red roses, chocolates, teddy bears, and men who drive us crazy, yet are so damn handsome, that all he has to do is flash his capped white chompers and we're putty in his hands!
End the brainwashing of innocent women.
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