Gutless fuckers

I'm not a big fan of guts as a look, but today I've been pondering on why it is exactly that me and my beautiful amazing girlfriends put up with so much crap from loser men. What happens in our head? Why, when they are behaving badly, do we try to understand, to explain it away, to even get excited about the idea of possibly 'saving' this poor thing who's claiming to be afraid, or confused, or whatever other paltry excuse they've come up with for their crappy behaviour?

Whatever, I'm really sick of gutless men. I'm sick of men too scared (oooo!) to ask 'why not?' instead of 'why'. I'm sick of dumbing down so that they don't get put off by half a brain. I'm sick of doing all the work to put people at ease. I'm sick of people who don't think they have a responsibility for their behaviour, it's just not ok (especially at notquitethirty) to blame all your problems and fuck ups on your parents. Get over it boy! - it's your life now, so what are you gonna do with it?

I like complicated people who don't just want the easy life but really, do they all have to be mentalists too? Someone suggested to me today that the solution to my quandary is to look out for older men who've been able to afford therapy to sort themselves out. It's a creative solution, but I like it. So if you see me hanging around outside the Institute for Psychoanalysis, you'll know why...