Six Years Motherfuckers!

LS writes in with a peculiar Facebook exchange she had recently with someone she had completely forgotten about. His name was Alex, and apparently he hadn't forgotten about her, and he wanted to let her know it.

Because that shit she pulled at the Junior Prom six years ago was un-fucking-believeable! That's right, six years ago! It's been hanging on him for six long horrible years!

It all started innocently enough when LS filled out a roving Facebook questionnaire that contained some random question about "the prom." She just filled it out and thought nothing of it.

Until.

She gets a strange email on her Facebook page.

From Alex, the guy that took her to the prom.

And not even the real prom. The Junior Prom.

Like that even fucking counts.

Anyway, she hadn't even talked to him since... well, ... the end of Junior Prom.

Did I mention it was six years ago? And they're 23 now?

Here's the odd exchange:

Alex:

Reading your note brought to mind something that's puzzled me for a while (Ed Note: Six years!), and you probably explained it at the time, but when you were anxious to split at prom why did you still insist on a couples' portrait? were your folks paying for it?

LS:

A) I don't recall being anxious to leave at Junior prom, but then again, I honestly remember hardly anything from that prom.
B) Was the portrait optional even? Doesn't everyone get those? I have no idea who paid for it.

Alex:

Well, you weren't so much anxious to leave prom as you were to avoid me. You were finding fault with my park job and right after dinner concluded, you kept your distance. That all wouldn't have seemed so strange if when we got in the door you didn't insist on buying a portrait (you paid for it). Not everyone opted for one, and we were a pretty contentious pair.

It makes sense if it seemed necessary. It just confused me at the time.

LS:

Do you always spend six years brooding over a girl who was inconsiderate to you when she was 16?

Alex:

That's an interesting idea. Why, you never asked someone why they did something puzzling? I included the details because you said that you hardly remember anything. Maybe it's weird because we rarely talk.

(Ed Note: They never talk.)

Me: No, no I haven't.

BP: Well, I hope you find an occasion to.

Jesus, Alex.

Get out much?

The Joys of Online Dating

PLFM gladly accepts online exchanges from assholes trying to meet you in online dating forums.

God knows they're a fucking charming bunch.

PLFM reader SS had gone off to college her freshman year and found herself feeling a bit lonely. Late one night she decided to post an ad on an online dating site, but soon thereafter started participating in a variety of social clubs on campus.

Not feeling too lonely anymore, she all but forgot about the little ad she had posted.

Four years later somebody actually answered her ad, but the guy who responded obviously didn't have his reading glasses on. You see, SS is a girl that likes the boobs 'n stuff. She's a lesbian, and had placed her ad under women seeking women.

The man that wrote SS seemed very sweet in his response, so SS thought it would be nice to send him a little note thanking him for responding and being so kind.

She wrote:

"I realize that there's no truly kind way to write this, but if you had checked my profile, you would have seen that I am a woman looking for another woman, not for a man. You sound like a very sweet person, and I hope you find someone wonderful. But be certain to specify on your searches that you are looking for a woman who is looking for a man.

I'm sorry for any inconvenience."

Well that was nice of her wasn't it?

A simple misunderstanding, and a very nice little note to explain the situation.

He'll probably thank her and apologize for the errant response.

Let's see.

You damn freakazoid muffdiving dyke. Why on earth would you want to rub your pussy against another pussy instead of letting me put my cock in your pussy and exchanging ultimate pleasure, then when I cum in your pussy we can have a baby together. What is your problem? You dont like me as your man? You are a disgrace to the human species. Why dont you go commit suicide you damn cunt. Who in the hell in their right mind would hunt tuna???

What a sweet little man.

SS didn't respond, but reflects to PLFM:

"I think that letter actually made me more gay."

PLFM Presents: Fucking Nutjobs

For those of you who have had the unfortunate experience of reading my other tragically offensive website Why Women Hate Men- The Blog, this little ditty is old news.

In fact, it's been traveling around the intertubes for over a year now, but reader KT sent it to me in an email the other day and I figured there is simply no way I couldn't post it up on PLFM. This, my friends, defines psychotic.

The man pictured above is one James N. Sears of Toronto, Ontario. If you're offended by his mortifying mullet and disturbing plethora of split ends, don't worry. In retrospect, those are actually his best qualities.

James goes by the moniker Dimitri the Lover and proudly offers a series of online classes teaching men how to meet, seduce and romance women. Which, as you'll find out soon enough, is quite ironic.

You see, James has some problems with women. Now, you might be asking yourself "Well, what is it? Is he shy, or is he impotent, or does he have problems maintaining long-term relationships?"

No, he has more of a problem with stalking women and, well, masturbating in their faces.

James problems began in 1986 while enlisted in the Canadian Army. After trying to force his way into the dorm room of a female officer, a military psychologist noted that Mr. Sears "had something seriously wrong with him."

A few years later, James weaseled his way into med school, where his psychiatric evaluation curiously noted that James often got drunk and high while on the job, occasionally masturbated while making "numerous random and obsessive phone calls to women", and exhibited extremely immature and narcissistic behaviors. His peers felt he was "cynical and untrustworthy."

Then they gave him a medical license. Just kidding!

No, I'm not. They actually issued him a license to practice medicine.

Nice job, Ontario. Perhaps you should take your own psychiatric evaluation.

But realizing the error of his ways, James was determined to change. And change he did, in front of several female patients. After a patient filed sexual assault charges against James, he pled guilty and left the field of medicine for good to become a consultant. A consultant offering second opinions on sexual harassment lawsuits. Ha ha ha ha, I'm kidding!

No, I'm not kidding. That's actually what he did.

Oh, Canada indeed.

Anyway, let's get to the featured entertainment, shall we?

It seems that our lovely James Sears aka "Dimitri the Lover" met a fine young woman one afternoon and she unwittingly gave him her card. James was fascinated by her beauty, and decided he must employ some of his fantastic seduction techniques to acquire a date with the lovely young woman.

So rather then spend thousands of dollars taking his courses on seducing women, why don't you just take a listen to some of his seduction techniques live and in person?

These are two of the messages James left on her answering machine. These are absolutely real.

Men, grab a pencil and a notepad and start scribbling.




If you'd like to read more about the wonderful Dimitri, you can find an article about him here on Gawker site Jezebel, and an article about him here from Eye Weekly.

If you'd like to date him, please visit here.

A Self Fulfilling Prophecy

As a general rule, women cannot stand needy, insecure and smothering males. Psychologically, above anything else, those traits will repulse a woman faster than baldness, obesity, and lack of cash flow combined. Why? Because a woman, whether she likes it or not, is usually pre-disposed to seek the exact opposite qualities in a male.

On the whole, most women will prefer a challenge rather than the man that kisses her toes 25 hours a day. Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? He always has to check up on you, he always thinks you're cheating, he wants to know who you're on the phone with, and he constantly questions your friendship with male acquaintances. He is known as a beta male.

LB was serving in the Army. She was shipping off for a stint in Korea, and had been dating Mike for just a couple months. Mike was an ok guy, and LB insists that although he seemed a little too excited about her, "I thought we had a pretty good thing going."

Before she left, Mike began bringing up the idea of marriage and babies. After two months. LB admits she was pretty young, and "didn't know how to lay the smack down yet."

Learn the smack, ladies, learn the fucking smack. It will save you a lot of trouble down the line dealing with beta, needy, and smothering men.

So LB travels to Korea, and rather than isolate herself in her barracks all night thinking about Mike like she should have, LB dared venture out in an attempt to have an actual social life with her fellow service members, male and female. God forbid.

So after another likely long and boring phone conversation, Mike decided to scribe LB a bizarre and massively insecure letter to discuss some of the "happier things" about their relationship. Except he kind of got sidetracked on the bad part of their relationship (his insecurity), and then pretty much forgot to write about anything else.

I can almost feel his knees shaking in worry as he writes this.

I leave it to you, Mike:

Hey Mrs. xxxxxxx (eventually),

How's Korea? Anyway I thought you would be wondering why this letter was taking so long to get to you. I think about you all the time you know - 24-7, even in my dreams. Every other dream has you in it. Unfortunately not all of the dreams are good ones. I'm not sure if I told you but pretty much all of the girls I've been with have cheated on me. I know it's not fair to you but I can't help but having bad thoughts about you and other guys. It's just that experience has left me very untrusting. Well I don't want to write about it too much - ask me about it the next time we talk - I know I'll be too scared to bring it up. I want to tell you to quit telling me stories about getting drunk with a bunch of guys until 2 in the morning but I'd rather know everything. You don't know how hard it is for me to go every day worrying about this stuff. The sad thing is that even if you don't cheat on me is that I'll probably always believe you did. Well I want to get off this subject and on to happier things - just promise me if you do ever do cheat on me, that you'd keep those lovely lips above the wasteline. Trust me! That would make the difference between a storm and a hurricane. The thought of you having sex with another guy is nothing compared to the thought of you doing that for him. I could probably get over sex but definitely not that. Anyway - we should probably talk about it.

Well, I said I was going to move on to happier things but there's not much to talk about. I just talked to you on the phone 15 minutes ago. I guess I should just let you know that if I had to choose between you and air I'd be dead.

Love,
Mike

"Naturally," LB writes, "I promptly dumped him."

Way to lay the fucking smack down, baby.

You just saved yourself 10 years of hell.

You've Been Blogged

We've all been there.

You've been dating someone for a couple weeks, maybe a month. Things seem to be going alright, nothing too out of the ordinary.

Yet.

And then it hits you out of nowhere.

The premature "I love you."

From a guy.

Now, I'm a guy, and I really don't have too much a problem saying it if I mean it, but it usually takes me at least 6 months or more to work up the nerve. Most guys are that way.

But there's something to be said about a guy who can say "I love you" after a couple dinner dates and a few rounds of Skee-Ball.

That something is "run the fuck away from him."

You got yourself a needy little bitch. With a penis.

Lachelle had been dating Chris for over two years. Deeply in love, Lachelle and Chris did what some couples just have to do on occasion: break up.

It wasn't the usual minor tiff, but rather the kind of fight where she dusts off the list of everything he's done wrong since he was a sperm, he ignores her furious ranting and then he smashes a pan or something, and they end up taking the dreaded "break."

So Lachelle just hung out with her friend Andrew for a couple weeks. In was a hot, torrid and juicy affair, if you consider playing video games, watching a movie or two, and maybe looking at some of his artwork "hot and juicy."

I sure do.

But nothing happened, and it was two fucking weeks. That's like, this Saturday and next Saturday, and that's about it.

Lachelle and Chris eventually came to their senses however, and rekindled their relationship.

But Andrew was left all alone with nothing but a shoulder full of Lachelle's tears and fond memories of that one night where they watched Legally Blonde and ate some pretzels. What a night of magic it was.

And .... well .... you can probably smell the cookies in the kitchen by now, can't you?

Well, it just so happens that Andrew is a blogger. What a fucking loser, right? A fucking blogger. I mean, who's ever heard of such a stupid thing?

Anyway, guess who had a sudden need to make a very important blog entry?

Take it away, Andrew.

I'm done with her. As much as I loved her. Yea I said love. You did once too then said I was being a bit quick to say it. Not anymore. You crushed my heart twice and that is one too many. I should have never given you a second chance. You were weak and fell into his trap. He is an asshole. You know that. One act of kindness does not mean he will treat you right.

I hope you feel accomplished Chris. You begged for weeks like a fucking dog for table scraps. Have your food. You called over and over. She gave in. You called every fucking minute. More annoying then anything. She did nothing. I hope you feel happy. I bet you do. Thats good. Im upset. Youre pry hard as a rock at that thought. I dont care anymore. I do and I dont. I care this had to happen to me but I dont care what happens now. I just know you both will be misreble and in the end never be happy with your lives.

Lachelle. You made a mistake. You know it. I dont know how you let it happen. I treated you so well. I did everything right. Everything I possibly could to make you happy and treat you right. He wont do that. He never did and yet you went back? Good luck with that. Not to sound cocky but I feel I was of some quality and you just used me. You fucking used me and betrayed me. Oh Chris you like that thought dont you. I bet you do you little fucker.

So you two. Go get married have a few retarded children that have to live on machines or are too incompetent to function a normal life due to their parents lack of intelligence. Have a wonderful american deam.

Listen, I sound harsh in these words. My feelings were true. I loved you. I cared for you beyond everything else. But this is how you treat me in return. I hope you feel aweful, I know you do. Your going to feel even worse when I say I never want to talk to you ever again beyond the friendly hello or light chat. Apparntly we cant handle anything beyond that because I not you I end up getting fucked over. So have fun. I'm going to go drink some 151 now to try and forget this ever happened.

Best Regards

Andrew

And for the record, Lachelle never said she loved him. Because she never did. And never would.

But was Andrew done?

No.

So fond he was of his brilliance, he also posted it on a MySpace bulletin board for all to see, and then on her MySpace page just in case she didn't happen to catch it the first two times around.

Nice job Andrew.

But that's not what makes you the bitch.

What makes you the bitch is saying "I never want to talk to you ever again... beyond the friendly hello or light chat."

Way to leave yourself open for more abuse. Put your fucking alpha pants back on, sister.

Feel free to post in the comments how early is too early for someone to say "I love you."

My vote? You say it in the first two months, you're out.

That's Not How It's Supposed to Work!

Men in long-term relationships tend to forget how difficult it is to be a single guy.

Fed a steady diet of relationship sex, they lose track of the work ethic and dedication it actually takes to get a woman into bed in the real world.

So when a man breaks up a long-term relationship with a woman, here's what he literally thinks is going to happen:

Finally free from the binding handcuffs of his relationship, he will immediately hit the ground running by going out and fucking as many girls as possible. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel or visiting the salad bar at Sizzler; just find what you want, chat her up, take her home and fuck her. Easy. It's like making fucking Pop Tarts.

Meanwhile, because he's obviously the greatest guy in the world and the girl he just dumped couldn't possibly ever find a man like him, he thinks she will sit at home crying into her pillow night after night, just waiting for him to change his mind and praying that he'll come running back to her. Would she sleep with another man? Of course not! He's the greatest, and he dumped her! Ha ha! Why would she bother?

Now let's pour ourselves a tall, cool and refreshing glass of reality.

Here's what he has to do to get laid in the real world:

He has to look right, act right, smell right, say the right things at the right time, make himself sound exciting, be funny, be gentle, be complimentary, appear intelligent and educated, dress nice, not have any physical flaws, watch his body language, be interesting, have a good job etc. etc. etc.

And here's what she has to do to get laid:

Breathe*

(*breathing optional)

So what inevitably happens is the guy realizes it's not so great out there in the real world. But he doesn't feel so bad, because she obviously hasn't slept with anyone else yet. How could she after spending all those endless hours sobbing over him?

Or ... did she?

Well, once he dumped her, all 14,178 of those cool guys that he once knew as her male "friends" are suddenly (miraculously!) there to console her. What a shock! Thankfully, since they were only her male friends, at least they're not going to try to have sex with her!*

(*this statement is false)

So when he comes running back to re-unite with the girl he just dumped, he often finds her in another relationship! With another man! That's not fair! It wasn't supposed to work that way! Hey! Who's running the show here?

She is, bitch.

Peyton and Kyle met in high school, and they continued their 3-year relationship well into college despite the fact that they lived nearly 700 miles apart. Everything was going swimmingly until Peyton decided to be a real pain in the ass by getting diagnosed with some silly little ailment called diabetes. Who's ever heard of such a stupid thing? After Peyton spent a week in the hospital, Kyle suddenly began to have second thoughts about their relationship.

First of all, Peyton was paying too much attention to this little diabetes thing and Kyle was feeling really left out. He wasn't getting the attention he wanted and deserved. Peyton was all "diabetes this" and "diabetes that" and "diabetes is a deadly condition" and other selfish things.

Secondly, Kyle really just needed some space. Because 700 miles wasn't enough space, and he needed more. Perhaps 701 miles would suffice.

So two weeks after she got out of the hospital, Kyle dumped his girlfriend of three years to see other people.

But ironically, Kyle ended up not having any other people to see. I mean, he saw people at class and stuff, but you know, he didn't find anyone to see*.

(*no one would date his ass.)

But Peyton did. Peyton met Keith, who was not only a really nice guy, but he also didn't dump her when he found out she had a potentially fatal disease.

Well, sure enough Kyle found out about Keith, and lets just say he didn't feel Peyton held up her part of the bargain when he dumped her. She was supposed to be at home crying over Kyle, not dating some guy named Keith. Why, this was more annoying than that stupid diabetes thing!

So Kyle found his corn cob pipe and velvet smoking jacket, and retreated to the study with his long-haired cat to compose a romantic haiku to let Peyton know just how he felt about her dating this Keith character.

Remember, Kyle dumped Peyton.

Here's his haiku:

you disgusting whore. not only is keith fucking ugly as hell, you asked him, the 25 year old man you fucked twice, do i need to get tested for STD's because of you? also you told julie you were single and looking in fucking feb. also in feb you told olivia that you didn't even care that we took a break. i hope your proud of what you've put me through. I loved you with all my heart and you stepped all over it with out a second thought. Noone will ever love you as much as i did and you will be a miserable fucking lonly whore for the rest of your life. I know once you realize this you will come crawling back but dont bother because i will just laugh at you and tell you what a whore you are. On second thought please do so i can step all over you like you did to me. You will never find anyone as good as me and you will regret it for the rest of your life. One day when I am a famous actor and making millions in blockbuster movies you will probably want to kill yourself. I almost feel sorry for you. also i'm serious, do i have to get tested now for std's?

and yes i went on your facebook. now that i found out how little yu really think of me and yourself i wont go through it again"

And just so you know, Kyle is an actor now.

He's currently playing the role of a guy who dropped out of college, moved back in with his parents, and drives around in a shitty-ass Dodge Dakota truck.

I think the movie is called Karma.

Meanwhile, Peyton took on the role of a woman with a new boyfriend.

PLFM Classics: The Unemployed Bum

Lynn was working her ass off and going to college full-time to fulfill her dream of becoming a veterinarian.

Matt was a.... um, hold on here, ... oh yeah, he was a "filmmaker."

Without a film. Or an idea. Or a script. Or actors, or a story, or you know, anything that has at least something to do with making a film, which I think is what being a "filmmaker" entails.

You wouldn't understand anyway, because you're not a filmmaker. It's a purely conceptual yet very complex job you can just do in your head. With your eyes closed, lying on the couch while watching Judge Judy. Every day. For months. It's very difficult. You have to be a thinker. Believe me, you'll never understand.

Anyway, he lived at a party house with all his party friends that his Dad paid for, he didn't have a job that actually involved "work" as you or I might define it, and he couldn't get a job because he didn't have a driver's license, but he couldn't get a driver's license because he didn't have a job, and he..... are your eyes tired? You get the picture.

But here comes mean little "Mrs. Work-all-the-time" Lynn up in poor little filmmaker Matt's face one day, telling him she's concerned he just seems a little unmotivated. And by doing so, she just totally ruined a great scene Matt was writing in his head as he lay on the couch amidst a sea of Cheeto bags and moldy sweatsocks.

"It's like I'm going somewhere with my life and you're not," she expressed with great concern to her unmotivated jackass of a boyfriend.

Did I say just unmotivated jackass? Shit, I meant filmmaker.

But Lynn, like all you readers out there, just doesn't understand the fine art of filmmaking. You see, part of the conceptual process of making a film is playing Xbox and sleeping all day, and then getting too fucked up every night to go get a driver's license the next day.

I mean, the DMV closes at 5 pm. Who the hell gets up before 5 pm?

Here, why don't I just let Matt explain it you:

First off, the motivation thing. It's true that I do have a slight motivation problem. It's no surprise, I've had it for years. I am working to rid myself of it, but to tell the truth, it's kinda difficult. Actually, it's a pain in the ass. But hey, just takes time. The driver's license thing? That'll happen. Don't know when, but probably sooner rather than later. Job? That goes hand in hand with the license. Movie? Working on it. BEEN working on it. Of course, you already know that.

"I'm going somewhere with my life and you're not." Great. I'm a victim of cliche. You're working your way through college, and after x number of years, you'll graduate with a degree and find a job in your chosen field. I, however, have absolutely no idea what sort of time span I'm looking at. Gotta write a script, find a cast, find a crew, shoot the movie, edit the movie, release the movie, hope it catches someone's eye, repeat. Filmmaking is an art, and like all other art types, the artist's success depends on the number of people that view his/her piece and their overall reaction to it. Completely unpredictable, but you know what? I'm willing to chance it. Because even though I might end up a complete and utter failure, the possibilty of success makes it worth the risk.

Did you tell her that you couldn't be involved with anyone who does drugs because it might jeopardize your career in the medical profession? Because I gotta say(as a friend) ... that's just not cool. Putting career above people is not a nice thing to do. In fact, I believe it makes a very definite statement of character.

Which brings us to the final issue: will I change? Will I realize that drugs are a bad thing and swear that I will never touch them again? Will I go off to college, get a degree, and attempt to lead a normal life just life everyone else? Two words: fuck no.

The point is, I'm not going to change my beliefs and I doubt you're going change yours, so I guess from that standpoint there is a certain incompatibility between us.We just need to accept the fact that it didn't work out, and put all this behind us. I can only hope that you're as willing to remain friends as I am.

Matt

Did you hear that? He's so unmotivated, that he can't even motivate himself to become unmotivated. Is that even possible? Someone Google it.

Needless to say, they never spoke again.

Lynn is now a practicing vet tech.

Matt is a .... yeah, you know.

Prepare to be Enraged

This one has been around for a while, but if you haven't seen it yet, it's certainly worth checking out.

Travis Frey, a 33 year-old Iowa man, was charged with kidnapping his wife. Prosecutors discovered Travis had some control issues, and to prove it they entered into evidence a contract he had forced his wife to sign.

A "Contract of Wifely Expectations."

If you ever think your husband is a fucking dick, just wait until you get a load of this guy.

Put a towel down, because your fucking ovaries are going to explode.

You couldn't possibly imagine what you are about to read.

Contract of Wifely Expectations

(There's 4 pages- read it all if you can stomach it.)

She Drives Me Crazy

Jeri broke up with her crazy ass boyfriend Tim a couple months ago.

To put it mildly, Tim was a little upset.

After behaving like a fucking psychopath for a couple of months, Tim realized his emotions had gotten the best of him and he decided to use a more civil approach to re-connect with Jeri.

"How about I sit down and write her a nice letter, and then ask her out to dinner?" Tim thought to himself.

Great idea, Tim.

PLFM sincerely applauds your effort. Or do we?

See if you can spot where Tim may have erred in asking Jeri out for a nice romantic dinner.

If you don't catch it the first time, read it again. You'll see it eventually.

"Hi. It's been two months since you dumped me. I know I didn't take it well at first... I thought about driving into oncoming traffic to see how many people I could take out at once, or killing myself, or killing you, or raping you. And you know I could have.

But I didn't, so really that means I've been handling this pretty well considering. I would hope that considering this you might finally come to your senses and go see a movie or something with me this weekend? Maybe a romantic dinner too if that's not too pushy."

A Note From PLFM

I'm getting some emails from guys with psycho letters from ex-girlfriends who want to know if they can send them in. Of course. Gay? Yes. Lesbian? Yes.

Basically, if you have something, ... anything, .... psycho, feel free to send it in. Videos, mp3's, emails, texts ... you get my drift.

I'm completely overloaded with work and running both websites right now, so please don't get upset with me if I don't get back to you or run your submission. On PLFM, I will always try to advise you by email if I plan to run your submission. Sometimes it will come at the last minute, but it will come.

Thanks for understanding, and remember, submissions don't have to be psycho. Like today's first entry, it can be stupid, ludicrous, bizarre, or anything else that just fails fucking miserably. -The Weasel

Food Fight

Jessica writes in to PLFM:

"My roommate forwarded me this text from her psycho boyfriend.

They had some dumb fight over Facebook, which happened at least twice a week.

He de-friended her and sent her this list of things he was bingeing on, the premise being that he was pigging out and it was all her fault because she upset him.

Yes, a dude wrote this!"

What the fuck is pyslliumoat cereal?

In Christ's Love, I'll Beat His Ass

If Andrew is a man of God, he needs to pick up a Bible and do some serious fucking reading.

You see, Angela dated Andrew for eight months until she finally built up the confidence to tell Andrew, the man she loved, a horrible secret. When she was young, Angela had been molested.

And Andrew did what all good Christians would do in that situation.

He called her a whore.

Nice job, Christian boy.

Angela, like anyone with more than one brain cell, promptly dumped his sorry ass.

Interestingly, Angela met a new man named Matt shortly thereafter. And Matt had also been the victim of horrible physical abuse by his mother as a child. Was Andrew, the good Christian fellow, happy that Angela finally found someone that could understand the pain of abuse?

Of course not.

Like the upstanding Christian role model he is, he calls Matt a pussy for letting his mother beat him up, and then extends an invitation to have a real beating- at the hands of who else?

Andrew!

I may not be a religious man, but I'm pretty sure the Bible wouldn't condone Andrew's behavior.

And since I'm not a religious man, I'm also quite comfortable calling Andrew an impotent fucking assclown.

Enjoy his delusional and rambling grab bag of God's love and physical threats below.

Angela,

Whether you read this or not, I'm glad I typed it, I'll assume you will find a guy, that you will think is alot like me. But he won't be a Christian, and you will think that you can change him like I helped you change.

You will be involved with him like we were, you will date for 7 months expressing "love" for each other, the same kind of love that you didn't have for me. You will be in a position where you say to him, like you said to me, "No one will ever make me feel like you make me feel" or "No one has ever made me feel this good", you will sit on him like you did to me, and he will take advantage of you, you'll lose your virginity, maybe even get pregnant.

At that point you will realize what a mistake you have made in your life by using me the way you have. What goes around comes around and I hope you realize that.

Your pathetic if you can just go out with any guy because he is having a bad day. That means your easy, what a reputation to have at school. Everyone will see that your just sooo sympathetic and everyone will try to get with you, and the first one that says he loves you, you'll just run to him. I won't ever be able to take you back after what you've done to me, just know that things could have been better if you didn't lie to me for so long. I don't know what hurts more:

1- The fact that from the time I first said I loved you til we broke up, you never loved me.
or
2- You were interested in other guys while we were dating and will deny it
til you die that you did.
or
3- That you used me and are just some loose or easy to get with girl that isn't at all interested in the will of God.

How dare you call yourself a Christian when you can just go out with all these different guys and think that it means nothing. I have had to repent and deal with the things we did together. I already know that your going to say that you did to. But I'm sure you got more enjoyment out of it than I ever did knowing that you were living a lie to me, your parents, your friends, the church, and God himself.

Whenever you feel alone you don't know what to do, and that's sad. If you don't do something about your "friend" Matt and his little situation, then your doing a horrible thing for him. You know what it's like to be abused and you should know that things were much better after the truth was told.

Is your friendship with him really worth him being beat by his mother? He must be a small guy I would assume, some little pussy with the same emotions as a girl to think that he can be beat and think its alright.

Just like you were sexually abused and you thought you deserved it. Stop being stupid. You can tell him I said that about him. Tell him where I go to school. Bring him up here have him confront me. I'll show him what being beat is like.

I will show you how much anger I am having to deal with knowing that I was suckered in to loving someone. I cared, I really did, you honestly know how I am with people that are actually in need and how I can't leave well enough alone. Looks like it got the best of me with you.

I have prayed to God for forgiveness of the harbored anger I have with you, as well as the things I have said, done, thought about, etc. with you. Everything physical, everything emotional. Whether you forgive me or not is up to you. I forgive you for what you have done with me and I have no right to harbor biterness towards you. I must accept the facts that I loved but wasn't loved, and I now know that it happened for a reason. To show that even someone as beautiful and white as snow on the outside, like you, can be blacker than hell itself on the inside.

In Christ's love,

Andrew

Hey Andrew. Guess what?

We all know that you masturbate.

Feverishly.

Would God approve of that beating?

Photo Finish

Ahhh, the blissful escapades of a blossoming relationship.

Everything your significant other does is cute.

Everything they say is funny.

And everything sounds like a great idea, as long as you're doing it together.

Great ideas like, say, making a porn tape together after a night of drinking.

Lo and behold, one year later, not everything your partner does is so cute anymore.

That little laugh you used to think was so cute now sounds like a dull hacksaw on a fucking beer can.

What was once a cute little snore has morphed into checking to see whether he fell asleep with a goddamn hot grilled cheese sandwich lodged in his esophagus.

And that porn tape?

Change the name from "Honolulu 8-31-08" to "Evidence".

Just a note, from a guy, to all women. You know that porn tape and / or porn pictures he took that one night? You know, the ones he got rid of / deleted?

They never delete them.

For this exact reason.

Enjoy.

Dear Andrea,

I’m going to spare you sad descriptions of my inside parts and stick to facts; After all, the goal here is not to endow your already rich shitty poetry collection but to hurt your feelings.

1. You dumped me. This certainly gives you the tactical advantage. This advantage will last until you find out (now) that I didn’t cheat on you but did keep Deloitte-quality records of girls who wanted to sleep with me and their contact information while we were involved. Some call this insurance. Others call it not being fully committed. There’s not a word for “fucking the pain away with a different chick each week”, but if there was i’d call it that.

2. I am feeling the loss. I have no romantic notions about the loss. I had a girlfriend, now I don’t. You had a boyfriend, now you don’t. I have to find someone else to do stuff with. I do take solace in the fact that I have a lot more going for me than you do, generally. I get to take that stuff with me. While you focused on accumulating stupid trinkets and cultivating insipid friendships I’ve always worked on improving myself and my circumstances (to a fault, sure).

4. Mentally generate likely insults about your sexuality in these categories:

General Physical Appearance
Ability To Orgasm Only When Being Choked Lightly
Dull Uniformity/”Groundhog Day”-ish Sex
Odd diction during sex (i.e. “Call me a whore”)

5. I was going to write something here about not contacting me ever again, but then I thought that I should be honest. You may contact me anytime (between the hours of 1:30am-2:45 am Weeknights and 10:30pm-12:30am on school nights). Of course, this contact should only be to arrange a time/place for having depressing sex and me calling you a whore.

A few small points:

The way you tell stories is really annoying. The tapes you run whenever someone says a keyword are probably the worst. When you have to say “no I’m not even done” while telling a story the listener really wants you to be done.

I’m pretty sure you cheated on me during your recent trip to xxxxxxxx. I didn’t say anything but I did log into your cell phones user interface (you’re a genius when you autosave your logins on MY laptop), copy the texts of those conversations and email them to myself. If you ever fuck with me I’ll probably reply all to your ‘my birthday party directions!!!!!!!!’ email and include that photo I took with my camera phone on our vacation to xxxxxx. You know, the one where you were doing that thing to me that I’d practically have to beg for, thus losing all pleasure associated with someone doing that thing to you. Your friends and family will certainly think I’m a lunatic but they’ll probably also have some thoughts about you. Maybe the photo will help me generate some leads for my project mentioned earlier in item #1.

Thanks for it all.
Chris

Thanks to Andy at Misanthropy Today.

Cling On

I made some toast this morning, and because I have the IQ of dehydrated raisin paste, I just stood there staring at my bitch-ass Sears toaster like a confused donkey.


"Am I being too clingy?" I thought to myself.

Maybe I should, you know, give my toaster a little space to sort its feelings out?

Sure enough, the minute I ignored the toaster, that bell rang and my ass was like Pavlov.

The point is, I think some guys have the ability to make women feel like a toaster.

You know, clingy guys. Basically a needy, whiny shadow with a penis and the remarkable ability to make your fallopian tubes seal shut like a submarine hatch.

I think clingy guys seriously believe vaginas come equipped with some type of little clitoral schoolbell, and if they just follow you around long enough, sure enough that little fucker is eventually just gonna ding like a toaster oven someday, and a lifetime vadgepass will spring from your panties like a pop-tart.

And on that note, today we meet Steve, the guy with the sugar-coated fingers.

Jessica was over at a friend's house one day when some guy named Steve calls her friend out of the blue and announces "he was in town and he was going to come over because he needed a place to stay." So Jessica meets Steve, and they talk some and even flirt a little bit. Steve really warms up to Jessica, but Jessica was more like "eh, whatever." They hang out platonically for a few months, and Steve goes back to school.

Suddenly, Jessica rekindles with her ex-boyfriend.

(Cue "Jaws" theme music.)

Steve begins texting Jessica. Followed by phone calls. Steve still wants to flirt, but Jessica explains that she is back with her boyfriend. Steve doesn't seem to understand, so he reaches deep into his emotional arsenal and starts laying on the guilt trips. You want to see a woman's libido dry up? Give her a guilt trip and watch her uterine walls morph into Triscuits.

Guilt trips aside, Jessica is one of those extremely kind girls, and knowing that all Steve's previous girlfriends dumped him for being too clingy, she encourages Steve to go out and date so he can meet a nice girl. Is that what Steve does? Of course not.

Steve calls Jessica and- guess who's in town and needs a place to stay! Jessica, who's basically Mother Theresa in my eyes at this point, reluctantly lets him stay at her house. And he proceeds to spend every day whining incessantly about her work and whining because she won't pay attention to him.

Jessica's nice train finally derails when Steve returns home and purchases her a ticket to come see him without asking her. Or her boyfriend. Sick of his whiny, needy, snivelling little antics, Jessica finally puts her foot down on Steve's hairless, marble smooth and kittenish testicles.

She cuts him off. Permanently.

And you know what comes next, folks.

Enjoy.

Jessica,

You know, I told you I wouldn't bring it up again but I've been thinking about what we talked about and I finally put my finger on what's been bothering me so much.

I guess it's something like this. The way you acted when we were "together" and the person I thought you were are two completely different things. You told me that you cared a lot about me and it was your feelings for me that kept you from cutting things off… I ask you why those same feelings didn't keep you from screwing around with other guys and telling me about it?

How can you care so much about me but not give me the courtesy of a monogamous relationship? That mutually exclusive shit you fed me just doesn't cut it Jessica; you don't string a guy on who really cares about you and fool around on the side.

You and I barely cut things off and you already have a "real" boyfriend who you actually commit to and presumably cut things off with that guy you were fooling around with. Not only does that smart because you wouldn't give me that commitment, but you haven't even mentioned to him the fact that you have an ex with whom you're in love with and have every intention of getting back together with.

Jessica, what are you doing with your life? Why are you going around hurting guys and being so selfish about things? You can make all the excuses you want Jessica, tell me he's the one going to break up with you (as you waited for me to do with you so I could "feel better" when it was over), tell me he's going off to law school and he doesn't want a serious relationship, tell me that you have no intention of hurting him and it can't be helped… and I'm going to tell you this: Jessica, I honestly don't know you anymore…

As your friend, I'm upset at the poor decisions you have been making and the self-destructive path you are on. The worst part is that there are people you are hurting along the way (and instead of learning from this, you jump right into another train wreck). Jessica, you need to get a grip on yourself and evaluate where you are and what you are doing. Stop doing things on impulse, and stop making excuses for things you can control but choose not to.

You really did things with me wrong and you really hurt me Jessica, and you're doing it wrong all over again… what's the deal?

If you want to talk, you know how to reach me, but you need to pull yourself together… and let me know when you do, because I don't want anything to do with who are you are right now. -

Steve

And like all clingy guys, Steve pronounced he was done with Jessica.

One of those "I will never text you again!" things.

Followed by more texts saying "I will never text you again!"

Followed by some courteous reminder texts that he would indeed never text her again.

I think you get the picture.

And just so you know Steve, Jessica married her boyfriend.

Feel free to share your parasitic clingy men stories in the comments, but more importantly, send me your clingy emails to PLFM. Open 24 hrs at weaselworden@yahoo.com.

A Day At The Lake

PLFM reader SG recently ventured to the intertubes to try her hand at a little online romance.

Somehow she ends up meeting a guy who actually had the balls to not include an actual picture of his balls in his online personal ad.

So this guy decides to take SG to the lake, which actually kind of sounds like a nice way to spend a first date. It's quiet, remote, and a great place to dump a body. Did I say that out loud?

"Halfway through the date," SG writes "he asked me how things were going. I told him I didn't see us having a romantic future, but that I was really enjoying his company." What she also didn't tell him, but she will tell us, is that she just wanted to stay at the lake. He had threatened to leave if she didn't feel any chemistry.

The next day, SG gets a strange email from her date. It says something like this:

"I'd like to know the percentage of the likelihood that we will have a relationship."

A bizarre question deserves a bizarre answer, so SG responds with "4%." (I gather she was staring at a milk carton when she answered that question.)

SG's suitor then requested one more date at his home an hour away by train. SG said she would be willing to visit him, but only if he understood that she had no romantic feelings towards him. Would that be OK?

Ready for the fun kids?

Because here's his response in 3... 2... 1....

Here's more or less how things are going to go from here. You have two choices. You can:a) never hear from me again.b) Call me before 3:30 pm. Apologize in a sincere fashion for being dishonest and foolishly, prematurely judgmental. We had no opportunity to establish chemistry Sunday. You will sincerely acknowledge that. If you wish, you may admit that your reaction has been due to the embarrassing way you presented yourself, and a desire to avoid feeling as though you were the unattractive party (you were). You will give your word never to lie to me again under any circumstances.

If I believe you, I will say so and graciously accept your apology. You will then ride the BART to Fremont, arriving no later than 6pm. You will call me. I will pick you up.I realize you probably have plans, and am totally unmoved by any problems this causes you. We will have dinner. At no time will you complain or question my directions, you will simply follow them. You will trust in my demonstrated honesty and respect for you. Since you're a free citizen, you'll have the opportunity to leave at any time. Doing so will result in us never speaking again. I will not negotiate with passive-aggressive, disrespectful people unless I absolutely have to. I don't have to in your case. This is your one and only chance to become my friend, much less anything more.

FWIW, I really enjoyed writing this, on so many levels."

Good to know fine sir, because SG really enjoyed lining her fucking birdcage with your little bitch-ass soliloquy.

Say, your Dad didn't happen to swat around your mother much, did he?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Fun With Texting!

PLFM readers, today we're going to play a little game. I'm going to give you a recipe, and you need to guess what it is. Ready?

In a mid-sized plastic bowl, mix:

One (1) "seems kind of nice."
One (1) "pretty much keeps to himself."
One (1) "doesn't say much."

Stir lightly. Add one date.

What's the recipe?

If you guessed "a fucking psychopathic stalker," you win a pair of pants made out of the scalps of Brownie Troop #472.

Congratulations, and please remember to refrigerate your stylish new flesh pants.

PLFM reader Sarah writes in about her brief encounter with a man named Derek:

"I used to take my work to the Starbucks in the lower level of my building. This one guy was always there and he was kind of cute, not really my type though. So one day I ended up sitting next to him and he smiled at me, so I thought I'd introduce myself. He didn't say much but we talked little bit, I just figured he was shy but he seemed pretty nice."

"Before I left he asked me if I wanted to go out sometime which kind of shocked me. He seemed really nervous but harmless so we exchanged phone numbers, and I admit I was kind of desperate for a real date. He called me to see if I wanted to meet him after work the next day so I agreed."

"The date was kind of awkward at first because he just kind of kept to himself at first. Then after a few drinks Derek opened up a bit more but there was just something really off about him. I ended up getting wasted and he walked me a mile home."

And after that, Sarah and Derek walked off into the sunset surrounded by woodland creatures and songbirds.

Oh, wait. I forgot this part:

"So he asks me out again, and I said OK. I thought maybe he was just one of those quiet guys and we'd get to know each other a little better on the next date."

"The next week I was sitting in the Starbucks with my brother Mark who was in town and I get this text from Derek:

"hey u fuckin bitch enjoy ur date u hore i hope he gives you herpies"

Not to let some douchebag get the best of her, Sarah decided to send him a nice little text in response:

"Im with my brother you asshole."

Is the relationship over? Apparently not, because several hours later, Sarah gets another text from Derek:

"sorry bout earlier i didnt know so what time to you want to meet tomorrow?"

I would really like to be the fly in the soup of that dinner conversation.

But Sarah, for some reason, never texted him back.

I Don't Understand Why You Dumped Me

Katie writes in to PLFM with a letter she received from her abusive ex-boyfriend Paul after she dumped his sorry ass.

"I ended things with Paul after he said I was gaining weight and was turning into my mother, amongst other such nice things, including pulling my hair and saying nobody could ever want to be with me. "

What a charmer.

But a charmer he was in the first half of his letter, which had me sniffling into a dewy soft tissue and reaching out to children in third-world countries with horseflies drinking from their eye sockets.

Because this horrible woman, who nobody would ever want to be with, suddenly had him in cold sweats and tear-streaked cheeks after getting his ass dumped like fucking horse shit in a communal pea patch. Funny how that happens, eh?

Living life without her, he says, is "a terrible nightmare."

And PLFM hopes Katie's mom makes a guest appearance in that nightmare, especially after reading this fucking pathetic letter from Paul trying to win Katie back ....

Hello

You should reconsider not being with me, Im sure you can understand, that the longer this goes on, the less likely I am to believe that this is all a terrible nightmare that I will wake up from, in a cold sweat rubbing my tear streaked cheeks praying for the nightmare never ever to become a reality.

I am aware that, in cutting off our noses to spite our faces, we have said some horrible things to each other, and our egos have forced us to up the anti so to speak, and make the things we say even more horrible each step in order to provoke as much hurt on the other as possible.

This is something that we are both guilty of, and I am sure that you would agree. Let the records show that, while I’ve said some very nasty things, but it was nothing that’s not true. I did it to make you a better person.

You are making a big mistake not being with me, you will see. You will fall down the slippery trail of scumbag ex’s, I know being the slut you are….

I am sorry that I have been mean lately. I am sorry that I have let the pressures of running a small business in an ailing economy get to me so much that I take my despair out on you. I am sorry that I can't be the perfect wonderful every second is a dream boyfriend that you read about in story books.

I mean, it’s not like you are perfect. I mean, my friends give you a 5/ 10 and that’s because you’re with me. I mean, you aren’t going to get anyone better than me are you, you’re not exactly a size 2 anymore.

We both must take a step back, take a deep breath, take a good hard look at our actions, then think

What would the magical leopluriton do?

Why, he'd whisk you away into a magical dreamland and make everything better, of course.

And that is what, to the best of my ability, I intend to do.

Please, don’t throw us away, I know things can be perfect, if you just try not stuffing your face all the time, and I will be more accommodating of your rapid mood swings.

I suggest you think about it. Hard.

Paul

Way to let your true colors shine through, you ignorant man-bitch.

And as a gesture to you, here's hoping you get your fucking woman-beating ass thrown into prison, where some friendly guys in the shower will pull your hair while they treat your ass like a fucking clown car.

And Katie would like to know if any of you know what the hell a "leopluritan" is.