Note From the Needy Desk 1:20 A.M

I shouldn't talk about the plights of women. One, I am not sufficiently educated in the subject, two, I am sufficiently educated enough to know my problems don't measure up and three, I am a man after all and everything is considered. But more and more I identify with the housewife of the 1950's. Or, more correctly, the prospective housewife of the 1950's.

I could call myself desperate or hopeless or unlovable but that's a code for 'hopeless and or cowardly at talking to women'. My big problem (or one of the bigger ones) is that I am afraid. As a bastard child of the 21^st century I only want one thing, but every girl everywhere knows I only want one thing. Truth is, I want more than one thing and , even less I want one other thing, one thing that is not the prime objective. My trouble is, even being chatty gets dangerously close to being sleazy, something I never want to be seen as. Nice guys finish last, but weak guys die before the end...