[1SickZ06]

Originally Posted by JohnnyBravo

Worst work of fiction I've ever read. Why didn't you just admit, "I went to the strip joint and paid some chicks to be nice to me because otherwise they wouldn't. I tried to look cool by telling them I had a Corvette. Of course, so did every other loser-paying-for-poon in the joint. I got shit faced drunk in an attempt to forget the fact that I'm not the "overweight lover", but rather the "overweight loser" and went home and jerked off to internet porn until I passed out at the computer. During my post-ejaculatory slumber, I dreamed I was cool and that the last girl whose image was still burned into the screen on my monitor really liked me, so I made up a story about how I hit it. Unfortunately, as I sobered up, I realized I was still the pathetic, plastic car driving, no metabolism having tub of goo I was before my dream, just as JohnnyBravo described me."

Ordinarily, I wouldn't prescribe suicide as the answer to anyone's problems, but in your case I will make an exception.

Hating is to be expected. But you can't make up a story like that.