I'm a whore
It's been two years since that hell --- I can't love. I don't know if the two are related but I think they may be. First there was Jen, she was an incredibly hot cheerleading coach and a little older than me. I thought I loved her but she never loved me. I was just a war veteran who she could show off to all her friends. She had a great set of tits and an ass which was to die for even if she was only 5'2" and about a buck fifty. Then there was Melissa who while flat chested and lost a ton of weight duue to surgery was nice. She believed I really was a nice guy even after I told her multiple times I wasn't. Last but not least was Stacy. Stacy was different. She was a whore in college, this much I am sure. I never had any proof of this except for the fact she did the traditional make out with girls and sleep with women while she was drunk and who knows what else. Her facebook had lots of pictures of her and other guys who were "just friends" but who was I to judge. Every night of the week was a different girl for me. I found sex, not with women but with orafices which happened to be attached to women who had feelings unfortunately, to be an escape from the horrors of war which I had encountered. I thought I loved each of them but I thought nothing of the consequences of each woman I slept with and how it would affect them as a person. Why would I though? I believed life was nothing more than a various combination of about six hour intervals. I knew I was a scumbag but it never bothered me. These are all things I should probably tell a therapist but for what reason for some chick who went to college to judge me about my actions as a human being. No. The reality is plain and simple, unless you are bleeding and dying, life is good. Emotions can be pushed aside and don't matter as long as you enjoy your life. The worst part of all that is I know it's bullshit. I don't pretend to know the meaning of life or what is in store for me. I want every reader to think I was a good guy and somebody who was honorable; however, the fact of the matter is I'm a dirtbag who is selfish. I use the war and my PTSD as an excuse to act anyway I damn well feel like it. They deserved better than me. All of those women, Stacy (even though she was nuts), Melissa (even though she longed for attention) and Jen (who knew she was gorgeous no matter what you told her). They all deserved better than me. At least they were all good in bed. It's ok though because I have my bungalow and I wake up each morning. . . .