>>> The Hard Way
By staff writer Mike Faerber
February 5, 2006

Love. What the fuck is it doing here? In this world of hate and despair. In this age of gratification and self-interest. In this article called The Hard Way. Could it be that something so antagonistic to the everyday ordinary could not only be right, but desperately needed by all? Without love, where would we be? Not at some bullshit social function trying to impress all the women there.

But running into love is inevitable—or at least running into what you think is love. You and a special lady have a beautiful connection that makes all other problems fade away…because you now have much bigger ones. But even the biggest skeptic cannot deny the euphoria of finding that special someone. Because for a week or two, it looks like you can stop caring and be yourself. Boy were you wrong…

To let her pay for dinner. You’ll be paying for that one for a long time. Don’t worry, you can now use the money you used to spend on sex, because it’s free.

That’s why she doesn’t feel bad when she takes it away from you.

But here’s where it all went wrong.

Going Soft

Love is a soul's recognition of itself in another.

When you start a relationship, the first thing you’ll do, and last thing you’ll notice, is completely change. Your vocabulary goes from words like “taintlick” and “asstastic” to “honeybearbaby” and “please can I have a taintlick? No, you’re right that’s selfish of me.” Your actions do a complete 180. While you used to completely disregard, ignore, or lambaste any stupid illogical bitch, now you listen intently…for the sound of your girlfriend growling at you for not fully respecting her friend’s viewpoints. You were once steadfast and hardheaded, unwavering at your goals. Now you’re putty in her hand. And how does all this feel? A-FUCKING-MAZING. Unless she tries to do it again and you’re still raw from the last time. The funny thing is, your love makes it worth it. And by it, I’m of course referring to “not worth it.”

Now I’m not denying the power of love. It truly is wonderful. But the power of like isn’t quite as magical. And you’re not going to like or love yourself if you try to substitute it for the real thing. Love transcends all boundaries…but like can only tie two things that are already similar. All this change and for what? Some three-week girl who you can’t even stand enough to stick around for the free handjobs? You try to compare her to a summer’s day, but she doesn’t even get it. You’ll wonder how your perception could be so wrong. Are you ever going to be truly happy with women? The way things are going, the only person you’ll ever love is yourself…in the shower.

“That is like, gross.” Metawhore.

Others’ Others

Now even I have to admit that girlfriends are fun. When you finally find someone that you might put it in, it’s so new and exciting and you’re so forced to remove your masculine shell that you just want to cuddle up in her arms and let her protect you from the lonely evil that pervades existence on this miserable earth. But when your friends start dating, you find yourself in a very tense situation: all of the inconvenience, none of the benefits. Nevermind the phone calls so cutesily revolting that you wish you could detach your own penis and throw it at your friend. Let’s not even delve into the bumpy, lonely road that is third wheel territory. Let’s get straight to the heart of the matter: you hate her, and he loves her, or he is getting some amazing play. Like in the sandbox, leaving you without a swinging buddy. This is a problem.

He starts spending all his time with her. This is infuriating. You think he’s making a big mistake…okay you’ll admit it, you’ve got a big time man-crush on your pal. Nothing you can’t handle. A few ass grabs a week: he thinks you’re joking, you think he’s smoking. Everyone’s having fun. But seriously, what does this girl have that you don’t? What does he see in her? More importantly, what does he see out of her? That thing ain’t pretty. So you’re stuck with this plastered-on smile when his girlfriend is over, and absolutely nothing you do to change his mind. Unless you could prove she was unfaithful. You have to catch her in the act of cheating with another man…probably you. Don’t worry, you’re exposing HER faults. He won’t even notice yours. Of course this brilliant plan has only one flaw: the deplorable act of actually “getting with” the ungetwithable. Lock your emotions away in your man-cabinet and get seducin’. That she-devil isn’t going to fuck herself.

Despite how many times you have told her to.

Screwing It Up

But enough with the pessimism emo-ron. What about the good stuff? What about the feel-good bubbliness of finding a girl that you inexplicably can’t live without? The one who validates all the snooping you did in Cosmo to get inside women’s heads…okay, so you read it for the 371 sex tips on how to please yourself. The point is, this girl is the ONE, or at most the top three. When you see her your eyes light up like annoying headlights when you’re driving at night, and the beams traverse her whole body. You run and latch onto her like a koala bear covered in Krazy glue. She’s so sweet that your heart shudders, and so hot that even your boner gets a boner. Man, everything is perfect…until you fuck up.

Your sweet little angel is furious, and grilling your ass on some very hot-button topics. Why did you look at that other girl? What did you mean when you said that? You want WHAT kind of sex? You’re sorry. You’re sorry. You don’t know what you were thinking. You want to talk it out. She does too, but not until she’s done pouting. And then she’ll talk…a lot…with the tearsies flowing, and you’ll feel so bad and so low. You wish you could melt into a puddle, have her drink you and fix all her problems from the inside. How could you do this to her? How could you be so inconsiderate? How could you not care about her feelings more than yours? Wait a minute. THAT BITCH. Then you begin to resent her for making you the scapegoat. It takes two to tango, honey, and personally you wanted to go to the movies instead. Eventually you get sick of fighting, and there’s no better feeling than the cool-down period once you get over it. You sit there asking each other how you could ever be so stupid, and you swear that you’re never going to fuck it up like that again.

Until the make-up sex.

Like: Man, I wish I could be like you. Everyone is looking for you.
Love: Hey man, don’t sell yourself short. People need you.
Like: Yeah right.
Love: No really. Think about all the friends who need you. Bosses and coworkers, too. Hell, without you, most people wouldn’t even find me.
Like: You know Love, you’re right. That’s why you’re so great, always making people feel appreciated. I think I love you, Love.
Hate: Would you two queerboys get a room?