Let's be honest, American sexuality is a goddamn dumpster fire. We’re all walking on eggshells, so terrified of being the next weirdo on the neighborhood watch Facebook page that we can’t even have a normal conversation. The other day, a teenage girl started chatting with me while I was walking my dog. She was just being friendly, and I was scared shitless. What would the neighbors think? An adult man talking to a kid? She started it, for fuck's sake!
Is that level of paranoia normal now?
And while we’re at it, what’s the deal with titties? Why are men’s chests public property and women’s are a national secret? What kind of Puritanical holdover bullshit is that?
There was some chatter after the last election about a "sex strike," inspired by South Korea’s 4B movement where women swore off men entirely. It was a bold idea that, of course, went absolutely nowhere. But here’s the thing: a massive shift between men and women has been brewing for a while. Women are quietly leading a drift away from traditional relationships, and the numbers don't lie.
According to Pew Research, 38% of U.S. adults were unpartnered in 2019, up from 29% in 1990. Even crazier? Half of single adults weren't even looking to date. And get this: while 61% of single men were still desperately swiping right, only 38% of single women gave a damn. Romance isn't dead, but it’s definitely on a smoke break, and asexuality is on the rise.
And I think I know why.
The Fast, Feline, and Feminist
I’ve cracked the fucking code: Women who keep cats are more likely to be asexual.
Think about it. There’s something suspicious about a woman who willingly cohabitates with a narcissistic, breath-stealing, fish-breath ball of hate fur. Cats are too damn independent to give you the unconditional love of a dog. They’ll vanish for a week, break your heart, and saunter back in like they own the fucking place.
And yet, some women adore them. My neighbor walks hers on a leash. I have to physically restrain myself from laughing.
A cat replaces a man. It has no needs other than food and a place to shit, which, let's face it, makes it significantly less needy than the average dude. Maybe that’s the turn-off.
These cat women have a secret agenda: they’ve got shit to do, and sex just gums up the works. If your girlfriend suddenly brings a cat home, she’s not-so-subtly telling you that you’re too goddamn clingy.
But here’s where it gets devious. They’ll still prowl for men, not for love, but for safety and financial security. They play a good game, making you think you’re important until you’re bagged and tagged. Cats are sneaky, and so are their keepers. As the great philosopher George W. Bush once said, “Fool me once, fool you twice, or fool you once, and…” Well, you get the point.
Now, add running to the mix.
A cat-keeping woman who runs is exponentially more asexual.
Not only is she deflecting your affection with her furry little proxy, she bought new sneakers and is literally training to run away from it.
Fellas, if you hate sex, harbor a secret STD, or are packing an unusually tiny ween, this fast feline feminist is your dream girl. For the rest of you, consider these two GINORMOUS red flags.
A Field Guide to the Modern Feminist
I never met a real, vocal feminist until recently. We’ll call her Violet.
Like a spoiled child, Violet always finds something to bitch about. This new wave of feminism is frighteningly similar to religious fundamentalism—an absolute, unshakeable conviction in its own flawed righteousness.
So, what’s the big feminist fight today? Fucking catcalls.
A tiny, loud-as-hell regiment of women believes unsolicited compliments should be a criminal offense. They’re so angry that it’s hard to tell who they are behind their anonymous social media profiles.
Based on my observations of Violet, here’s my best guess at a profile of today’s feminist:
* White women with short hair: They chop it all off to avoid male attention because, you guessed it, they’re probably asexual.
* Natural blondes over 26: God is unkind to them as they age, and they take their hatred of wrinkles out on all of mankind.
* Over-educated career women: They’re pissed they spent their prime childbearing years in a library.
* Women who own cats: Again, a cat is a well-known heterosexual male repellent.
* Women with jacked-up testosterone: She’s hyper-competitive and basically a dude, but she’s mad she’s not accepted as one.
* Morbidly obese women (with short hair and cats): She’s tired of being called heavy and figures she has no chance with men anyway, so she’s hoping to hook up with the blonde over 26.
Thanks to these fire-breathing broads, you can’t politely hold a door open, offer to help her carry something heavy, or especially tell any woman she looks nice without risking a lecture, or a rashambo. It’s a sad state of affairs. Women seem to be sending a message. It could be "I'm a lesbian," "I hate sex," or simply, "I have given up on everything."
What’s a Horny Man to Do?
So if women are checking out, what happens to we men left behind? Until the sexbots come down in price and get a wee-bit more realistic, which is totally coming, and we’ll talk about that in a sec - men got creative.
Option 1: The Titty Bar
Daddy wants to get his groove on, but Mom’s libido mysteriously shut down right around the time the cat showed up and she started training for a 15k. Her "EXIT ONLY" sign is hung loud and clear. Dad sulks, contemplates divorce, then finds out most of his buddies are in the same damn boat.
Solution? Rachel’s Steakhouse, baby! Cheap beer, prime rib, and a fat stack of cash make a lonely man feel worthy again. It’s all show business, of course. He can’t even touch the dancers. But for a few hours, he can pretend he’s still desirable. Some wives even fund the trip; it’s a small price to pay to not have to deal with messy, obligatory intercourse. He gets his rocks off inside of a tissue on the ride home, and she doesn't have to wash the sheets. Win-win.
Option 2: The Mail-Order Bride
Then there are guys like Fucking Fred. Retired, divorced, and lonely as all hell. After striking out locally, he remembered the "young, happy, beautiful, and submissive" whores from his time in the Philippines.
Yes, ladies, he actually said "submissive."
He tried an Asian dating site and immediately got scammed by a 26-year-old who "mysteriously disappeared" after he mailed her a laptop and cash. Undeterred, he paid for a "romance tour" and came back with photos of himself with a 31-year-old Chinese woman who was way out of his league. He went back to bring his new bride home on some hideous aberration of government called an engagement visa.
I never saw Fred again. When I asked the mailman, he said someone returned his mail and it was marked "deceased."
These arrangements are a psychological and monetary minefield built on desperation and fantasy. Can they lead to true happiness? Maybe. I saw a LOT of these 70 year-old men toting around much younger Filipino women in Florida. But I still have my fucking doubts.
So there you have it. Women are replacing men with cats and cardio, and men are either buying wives or renting boobs.
What a fucking time to be alive.
BRING IN THE FEMBOTS!
Fortunately, the proliferation of sex robots is in the very near future.
Artificial intelligence and cloned human voices will drive the conversation however you want, and she won’t ever give a flying fuck what you say to her or want to talk about.
Human-like skin and lips with hyper-realistic hydraulically alterable faces - and, um, certain appendages - that can perfectly resemble your favorite celebrity, porn star, or, well, let’s be real here, married neighbor or co-worker.
Heaters built-in to generate that perfect 100 degree heat. Customizable pheromone ducts that you simply can’t resist.
And most importantly, self-cleaning modes.
AND your future sexbot will take care of cooking, doing the dishes, watching the kids, cleaning the house - all without ever bitching about it.
Oh, to keep it interesting, she’ll feature an endless supply of “inputs,” some of which might only appear on the most twisted alien species any manga fan could imagine.
The best part? She won’t ever want a cat.
So, yeah, that’s all coming (pun intended).
So, Violet, I hope you fucking enjoy the hell you’ve sown. Good luck out there. You’re fixin’ to need it.
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