You know, I was sitting here in my apartmnent at the Roach Motel wondering how one talks to babes. You see, I really have never had a real conversation with any babe. What does one talk about with babes? What does one say to babes? It is all rather rhetorical anyway. I'm pretty sure that babes are sizing up a guy when they talk with him. They have no time to waste on losers because there is nothing to be gained. Well, that makes sense! That's why I know no babes! Perhaps a good personality would compensate for looks. Unfortunately, I don't even have a personality. I truly am a boring guy. Babes do not like boring and ugly guys. That means I am also a social outcast. Things are not looking too good for the ol' 30- year-old- ***. Jesus! No wonder I can't even get a decent job. Who would hire me? Sometimes I have to laugh because I cannot even believe that someone like me really exists. Then again, maybe I don't. I have basically spent all weekend in my closet, although I can
not say that I am refreshed. The time did not produce any fruitful results. However, I can say now that I am truly ready to make my monastic commitment. I contacted the monks and have scheduled my initiation. The time has come. That will mean an end to internet life, and an end to this pathetic account of an equally pathetic lifestyle. There is a sense of relief and denouement, but there is also a sense of defeat. A 30-year-old ***'s life is one of tragic comedy at best. The popularity of such an account is a painful reminder to all that live it and further substantiates the maintenance of denial. It is in silence that we walk, shrouded from public view by our own insignificance.