So basically, you can measure how good friends we are by the percentage of how much of this stuff I’ve told you in person.

I don’t have secrets, per se. I limit what I say in public to be mindful of what people REALLY might not want to know about anyone. I wouldn’t want to, for instance, know a whole lot of details about my female friend’s sex life, but I’d be more than curious about that of men who I’m sexually involved with… With limitations. I don’t want to ever hear a word about any situation in which they felt they “made love” to someone. *Pukes* I do want to know everything about their FUCKING someone, even possibly when that person was their true love, but you know… Gone, and the time itself was filth rather than rose petals and Champaign. (If you know what I mean.) Don’t need to know, don’t want to know.

This is why I have never touched on those topics here. I won’t tell you about “lovemaking,” especially in not so many words. They’re simply none of anybody’s business. Still, if I ever do tell you anything about the topic, it means you’ve graduated to my Highest Possible Friend status. Everything else is public, and the measure of our friendship – if we’re not True Emotion Mirrors – is measurable by the percentage of this information I’ve also repeated to you in person.

I do not have secrets, my dear friends. But if your attention span doesn’t cover these topics in person, you’re not a friend to me at all. If you think this is not worth reading because it’s public and thus “fake,” you know nothing about me, and you’re no friend. And of those “friends,” I know… They don’t read this.  You can absolutely test my friend’s true knowledge about me by asking them anything you’ve read on this blog. If they give you the wrong answer, they’re having you on. They may “know me” technically, but they don’t know you as well as a person who has read my blogs at any level of interest… Often, even one post may be more than enough to trump the knowledge of some of my so-called real friends.

Friends like this assume SOON you’ll tell them the real truth. Until then, they’ll just have to stick around and wait for you to trust them enough to “lower your guard” (is what they think this is) and tell them the actual truth: That you’re actually an insecure, little whiny bitch who is just putting up a tough front to fool everybody… blah blah. And THAT is their guard. That is the lie they repeat to themselves to release their own insecurities because THEY feel like an insecure whiny thing that blah blah.

I have no respect for those weaklings.

I am willing to live by the truth, die by the truth. I judge and I let you judge me. The time has come that I am willing to insult you now. I want to hurt you, but not to be forgiven, but to be understood and interpreted correctly. I am TIRED of being misrepresented, misunderstood, and misquoted. I am tired of being loved by the self-congratulating lies that people tell to themselves about me and my feelings toward them.

I’m just equally tired of men believing the lies of inferior women about me, when the ugly bitch fights dirty and uses her friend-status to talk shit behind my back to the men I love, acting all innocent and helpful to my face. Or, alternatively making me feel like the most helpless and pathetic creature they have to sell to him as a partner, because no man in their right mind should ever trust me for a second, right?

Now, let me speak for my own damned self, and ask me if I can live up to my own hype.

Some of it probably not. I’ll explain to you later why not.