There comes a point when as a man, you finally click and learn what women are pretty-much all about.
At that point the feminine mystique is gone. At that point you realize that there really isn't anything to love about women - it was simply an illusion of the feminine mystique.
At that point you realize that women are overall not worth the effort.
This is what you're left with. You jump through hoops so you can bust a nut in her, then sorta lay there thinking that you'd rather be elsewhere now you're done. 'Cause to be honest, once you know what drives her, there's nothing to love.
You'd rather know the truth than the lie, though.
Seems like the story of Faust wasn't all that much fiction after all, eh? Seriously man, it blows my mind to look at a story like that as old as it is in a time before modern feminism and realize that they knew the score, they knew what the fuck is going on, and yet somehow, we are still going further south of heaven every day.
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