I must be at an all-time low. While waiting for my 6-year-old art student, I am busy pretending to work. What I'm really doing is looking into registering at a ... say it Dex... personals site. The kind that cater to desperate losers looking for love and/or "activity partners," "casual dates" and the like.
Yes you're shivering. You should. Losing Anna's driven me to this pass. It's eaten into my work, affected my better judgement and caused me stomach- and muscle pains and attacks of stress-induced diarrhea the likes of which I have rarely felt. Having responsibilities I cannot shirk plus seeing Japan and its indigenous womanity have helped ease the symptoms of losing the love of my life to the vagaries of evolutionary biology. But not by much. Seeing the young women in Kofu, Sendai and Akihabara actually hurt after the inducing in me the initial pleasures associated with critiquing female eye candy.
Yes, feminists, I am too a sexist pig who should be shot. One of your kind left me because I don't fit your criteria of provider-life partner despite (or maybe because of) all my efforts to be the New Sensitive Caring (therefore wimpy and pussy-whipped) Man. So please cut me a little slack for feeling the requisite pain and lashing out.
Check back with me and I'll let you know if I've put myself on sale on the mass market for losers who can't find the time or the energy to actually bother to meet a live human being and get himself a date. Or not.