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Ya know, the thing is... Whenever I feel something similar to that, I watch some show like Elimidate. Y'know, totally ridiculous crap. The broads on that show are traditionally hot, but when you watch one try to communicate, you can tell there's nothing but oatmeal up there inside that skull of hers.
I mean sure, someone with a nice pair of tits and a piece of arse, they're good for a 20-minute fuck. Or maybe an hour. But what about the 23 other hours of the day?
The grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence, but once you actually get there, all you've got there is dead leaves.
I think you're trying too hard, and thinking too hard, and talking too little - to one another.
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Who is John Galt?
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