Mark Detwiler



Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. With my dopey face and chicken legs, my love life could be summed up in one word: hopeless. The harder I try, the less interested women seem to be in me. It's like 52 percent of the world's population doesn't even know I exist. Not that I can blame them. If I were a woman, I wouldn't be interested in me, either.


Honestly, what chance does a guy like me have with every single woman on this earth?

Ever since I was young, I haven't been able to take my eyes off of women. Any of them. Those eyes. That hair. Those legs. How is somebody like me supposed to approach a gender like that? What would I even say to someone with a perfect pair of X chromosomes? I'll tell you what: nothing. Because if I ever even tried I'd just turn on my heel, walk out that door, and head home before embarrassing both myself and every one of the ladies currently inhabiting the planet.


Let's face it, there's absolutely no way I could get with any type of living human woman between the ages of 18 and 105.

After all these years, I finally realize that my mother was right. My expectations are just way too high. I have no business thinking that any female who has lived or will someday live during my lifetime would want anything to do with me. I'm just not the opposing gender's type. And to tell you the truth, I'm tired of getting my hopes up only to have them crushed by anyone possessing a uterus. Maybe if there were a third, lesser gender with extremely low standards who had never met me before, perhaps then I could find that someone special. But as long as I keep pursuing romance among those with opposite genitalia, I'm done for.


Unfortunately, though, when it comes to being interested in a sex other than my own, nothing's better than women. They're always so popular and beautiful. Everybody wants to hang out with them. Just look at the way they dress, and God—that walk? Drives me nuts! Now that's a gender that knows it looks good. How could I ever relate to that?

See, that's precisely why I don't put myself out there. I can't bear to be rejected by 3.2 billion females—who could? Come on, take a look at every woman and then take a look at me. I have nothing to offer everyone of the opposite sex, except for the pleasure of not having to enjoy my company.


The only thing I have in common with women is we both know they could do better.

Every day on my way to work, I promise myself I'm going to ask women out, but I just don't have the confidence of every other guy I know. Take my friend Dave, for example. He's charming and athletic and has something women desire. He's the kind of man literally every woman wants to go out with. And the one crucial thing he has going for him is that he's not me. Women are sensitive enough to pick up on little things like that. But when I lie awake at night, thinking of that one special sexual category I'll never be with, I wish they weren't.


No, I shouldn't even dream of ever having a chance with women. Maybe I'll try again in a few years, but for now I think it's best for everyone concerned if I just assume that the female half of the human race is not interested.