You made me learn game. You made it very clear that being nice, chivalrous, and patient was not the way to have sex with you. You let me know that being your friend, listening to your problems, and supporting you through hard times would only result in me getting to hear you fuck other guys. You pushed me to approach a million women to improve my ability to get laid.
You made me a selfish asshole. You rewarded me with sex when I treated you poorly. Your pussy got wetter the less I respected you. You made me go against my kind nature by being more cocky and arrogant.
You made me emotionally cold. You punished me any time I told you my feelings. You lost interest in me whenever I showed you basic human affection before you gave me affection first. You showed me that the less I concerned myself with your well-being, the more you did what I wanted.
You made me go for shallow one-night stands. You wouldn’t return my call even though we had what you admitted was a great conversation. You would flake and disappear for no obvious reason, making me feel like a piece of shit. You made me view sex as a numbers game where I treat you as nothing more than a “prospect” towards my sexual needs, an entry in my cell phone that represented possible sex, not a human being I wanted to build something with. You gave me no choice but to speed up all interactions at caveman speed so I could at least get a nut.
You made me leave America. Your entitled attitude become unbearable and your appearance disgusting. You have lost what it means to be a woman and what it takes to make a man happy. You have so little value to give yet you still expect Prince Charming to one day sweep you off your feet. You are a corrupted and damaged female, and have tried your damnedest to bring me down to your level.
The more game I learned and the more women I approached, the more sex I got. The more I worried about my needs and the more I treated you like crap, the more you went out of your way to please me. The colder I was to you, the more likely you’d want to be with me. The faster I went for sex, the less you flaked on me. The more time I spent away from America, the happier I became.
You made me hate feminism. You made me forget about marriage. You made me a voice for men who have gone through the same struggles that I have. The interactions I have with a woman tomorrow is entirely due to your influence and how you’ve treated me the past fifteen years. Who I am stems from your responses to my attempts at fulfilling my biological urge of sleeping with you. You’ve shaped my game and views towards women every time you rejected me and every time you opened your legs. You made me who I am, and every day you create one thousand men who are just like me.