I wish I could be one of those cold, heartless men who use women and then forget about them. Life would be a lot simpler. Instead, I’m a sensitive artistic wimp who always ends up broken-hearted. Women claim they want sensitivity, but in my experience, once they find it, they spend all of their energy trying to trample it.
I hate being a sensitive person. It holds me back in everything I do. I want to be a shark–unthinking, unfeeling, uninterested. I guarantee my career would be much better off, and I couldn’t be much more alone than I am now.