A beautiful but obnoxious girl who worked in a small cafe shop randomly asks me to stay and hold her company as she closes the store when I was buying some protein post workout. She said I was a bit weird for not saying anything at the cashier and she wanted to help me be more social. She wanted to "cure" me. Of course I realized that the slut had as many problems as myself, but I went along with it, for curiosity if nothing else. We hang around for an hour or two and although I already felt uncomfortable with the situation she decides to invite me to her place on a whim. I was pretty apathetic at this point but became more and more terrified as we made our way to her apartment. She suddenly asked me whether I was gay, then a small chat about bullying in school and how it shaped us.
I become disgusted with myself even while writing this, because as soon as my bubble bursts and I'm in unknown water with human beings (mostly females) I do not know - my brain freezes and can't concentrate on anything but how I appear in the minds of the others. The situation doesn't improve by failure to conjure a proper sentence in a situation like this. So you can imagine how pathetic and lost I felt being in her apartment playing Guitar Hero and drinking some beer with her alien friends. They went out clubbing after a while, awkwardly bidding farewell as they obviously didn't want me around any longer. But it was a beneficial learning experience right? Wrong. The reward is merely self loathing and regression to an infantile stage where I my insides start wailing if mother's comforting tit is absent.
Another time on a cruise, a really cute short blond haired girl asks me if I want to come back up to dance while my legs were busy trying to navigate down the stairs to my room. We had been exchanging glances all night long and since I was not man enough to take initiative I guess she felt obliged to. I dance as if I'm Jesus on crack and a random black girl who disagrees with my technique tries to teach me how to dance more casually. She engages in the stereotypical crotch dance from MTV hip hop music videos with me to a couple of beats until then my little blonde haired angel jealously looks in my general direction and I try to friendly disengage the displeased orcish brute and get back to her. We share a pretty romantic time together while gazing upon the black ocean and the starry sky. I ask for her number (I can actually do this when I'm very drunk, believe it or not), we talk about philosophy and music and go back to our respective cabins. Sexual intercourse was difficult due to her sharing room with her mother, but it was the only time in my life where such a progression would feel natural.
On the next day when I sober up we meet up and I tense up not knowing how to hold a proper conversation with a pretty girl. We just sit around and say nothing, a bit awkward for the most part but as I was exhausted from lack of sleep and hung over I didn't even feel like trying too much.
We part ways telling each other to keep in touch, I message her a few times during the next week with stupid small talk. She replies pretty short and dismissive a few times but seeing as I was madly in love I didn't want to take the signals and kept on composing guitar songs in her name. After a while she stops completely followed by a long reply that basically sums up that she isn't looking for a (distance) relationship but doesn't want to 'hurt my feelings'. I just said that I didn't care, that I don't want a girlfriend anyway and that she was just misinterpreting me. Probably could see through the idiotic and blatant lie. She still hurts so much. Probably because it was one of the closest encounters I had to grasping mutual love. And she was such a gentle and sensitive being, so far from all the sluts I encounter daily.
I can recollect painful memories on and on but you get the point. I don't make any progress with females and the sexual frustration is slowly eating my insides. Fuck.