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I mean, what is it with guys that they have to fuck as many women as possible, anyway?  And don't give me the whole "it's biology" bullshit.  That guys have to fuck around because it's ingrained in their DNA, and if they don't get any for like three days their head explodes, so they fuck to save the planet

Here's my theory: guys are dicks.  I think they do it for as long as they can get away with it, for as long as they don't get caught.  And then when they do, they say shit like "We were never exclusive", and move on to another circle, another group, another zip code where nobody knows them and it starts all over again.  As long as they get away with it, they will.  I think it's nothing more than a game to them.  Like stealing from the bank at Monopoly.    It's not sex, it's Monopoly.  It's not about sharing your body, it's not about intimacy, it's not about making love, it's about sneaking around and stealing the $500 bills when the other players aren't looking.
 

Anyhow, I've been in ugly mood for like a week and a half or so.  And Ashley, The Most Observant One On High got pissed off and demanded to know why I was being sulky for no obvious reason "And not having sex in at least six months is not good enough."  And I told her about Andrew the Asshole from eight years ago, and yes, I know eight year old anger is stupid, it's not like it ages gracefully like a good scotch or anything. But I saw the damn flower and now I'm pissed off.

Ashley, The Brilliant Idea One, suggests I write a letter to Andrew the Asshole.  Not one that I'd mail, since we don't know where he spun off to (and nor do we care), but one that tells him exactly everything I ever wanted to, and then we burn it, or rip it up and throw it into the ocean.  This sounds suspiciously like a shrink trick.  You know, like where you gotta list ten good things about yourself and then they make you read it when you say you hate yourself.  But since the other option is to have Ashley beat me senseless, I'm willing to try anything.  So I wrote this: