Do women really have to be beautiful, smart, nice, funny as well as exciting in order to find a boyfriend? Or should men overthink their standards?
Last Sunday I spent the day doing nothing really due to a huge hangover, so I dragged myself with my last strength to the apartment of my favorite human being in Zurich West and surfed the web, while he hung over the loo, puking out the remains of Saturday night. On a popular, virtual internet portal I stumbled across a cry of desperation. The headline read: “Where are Zurich’s exciting women at?” The charming gentleman who had composed this post complained about the emotionally empty dolls lacking character and intelligence. At the same time he ranted on about smart women who don’t exactly look like supermodels. According to him, the whole of Zurich’s female population belongs to one of the two categories. And what is more, they don‘t even have an open mind about shamanic experiences! Honestly, if everybody was hostile to esoteric bullshit, geniuses like Mike Shiva and Uriella would have remained unknown forever and what sense would life make without them!
Let’s look at it objectively: Could it be, that Mr. Misogynist is right? Are all pretty girls in Zurich outright dummies? A short look into this year’s Campus Girls online calendar proved the thesis wrong. Seven out of eleven amateur models – and at the same time eager students – live in Zurich. Pretty doesn’t automatically mean pretty stupid (although, when posing for such a calendar, well…). Empty people, on the other hand, one will find galore; like in every place where too much money and cocaine circulates. But with approximately 200'000 female citizens one may expect that there are at least some who combine beauty, intelligence and character.
Is the anonymous blatant beast therefore being too picky? Or is he simply reflecting the standards of today’s male society? If they really hold such high expectations, the time has come for the shoe-maniac gender to up the scale a notch. Farewell dear couples made up of bombshell and average Joe; from now on we will only let ourselves be satisfied with the finest of the male specimen. Starting immediately, we will solely accept six packs of the body; the ones in the fridge are banned. Receding hairline with twenty, half-bald head with thirty? Though luck, next please! No university degree? Too bad! If he’s not funny, charming, quick-witted, politically and socially active, a born chef, creatively gifted and can’t boast at least twenty centimetres, he better have a persistent hand, because no woman will let him near her again.
But should we really make Darwin’s dreams come true and let all mingers, baffoons and slowpokes die out? No! As far as I can see the frustrated internet Casanova is merely pissed off because the great, self-confident girls send him packing. And even the less attractive chicks don’t want such a disgruntled guy at their side. Maybe he should try calling Mike Shiva for advice. He can then tell him for half a day’s salary per minute where he can find a girl that hates herself enough to be with such a poison dwarf whom she will never be enough for. For who is not at peace with themselves, will never find happiness with others.
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