So, last week I was told my wife left me because I'm not rapey enough, and she was probably hurt by me not objectifying her enough.
This weekend, I struck up a conversation with a very nice woman at Dorian's*, and she explained to me why she saw abstinence as not being required of Christians and called me (smilingly) evil when I massaged her shoulders and wicked when I massaged her hands because of the abstinence thing.
Then, yesterday, a close female friend explained to me about how I was too focused and attentive when conversing with a woman and how my failure to look at passing asses robbed the woman I was talking to of the opportunity to check her teeth for spinach and wipe her nose.
So, it struck me this morning: I am a living Terry Pratchett character. My narrative purpose is to illustrate the chasm between what polite society says women want from male romantic interests, and the, er, more varied and colorful reality. I think I may change my name on FetLife to Carrot Ironfounderssen or something.
* Every few months when I'm feeling down I do a sort of dry run at picking up women; partly because I just like talking to new people and tend to like them and find them interesting, and partly because it cheers me up a lot to check that I'm abstinent by choice rather than social incompetence. As you can tell I explain the abstinence thing very soon. [UPDATE] Oh, also I explained the not-mentally-ready-for-more-than-friends thing even sooner.