Ah, the rebound fuck. The oh-so-integral aspect of what little dating culture New Zealand has. Yes, believe it or not, this country has a dating culture, albeit one that consists mostly of drunken gorilla-men knuckling their way across the dancefloor in a club, before beating on their chests and claiming ownership of some oversexed, underdressed tart who proceeds to kneel down and suck the cream out of his doughnut.
Seriously, the troglodytes in this place need a wake-up call. Gone are the days of beating the object of your affection over the skull with a tree, before dragging her by the hair (presumably to prevent her from filling up with dirt) back to your cave. We’re all adults now, for the most part, should we not be trying just a little bit harder?
I went on something approximating a “date” once, and I maintain to this day that it is one of the fondest memories I have. I would give almost anything to live that evening again, the way it stays fresh in my mind. There was also the time I did stand-up comedy, and the time I flirted with a girl so badly that she quit her job. Take a victory where you can, I say.
The point is, something needs to change. There is more to life than getting trashed, mouthing the fifteenth letter of the alphabet, and taking a shot in the mouth. Especially if you’re a girl. A relationship, these things do not make.
Nevertheless, when the shit hits the fan (because unexpectedly, you’ve formed what you think is a bond on nothing more than a drunken fumble), you go out and rebound. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?
And people wonder why I’m always ticked off at how stupid humanity is.
Or you can keep doing what you’re doing. I don’t really care. You’re either going to end up with good posture, or foul breath and bad knees. Maybe both. You might get lucky.