A certain man

He said,

"You wanna get a woman,
you got to be willing to punch her,
so willing that when you have to punch her,
punching her is the first thing to come to your mind,
and when you do punch her, you have no problem punching her.
Punching her is the easy thing, rather than holding back.
You never see wimps getting laid,
or, if they do, they have to be rich,
so the women come to him, and leech off his money.
Wives of rich men,
strippers at a strip club.
The same kind of person, really.
They leech off a man's money
because they can. If they were ugly,
they'd be fine with working at the supermarket,
but they happen to have a round ass,
so they shake it. And they get their pick of man.
Of poor men, only rapists get laid.
Of men, they are the only ones who really try.
The wonderful thing is that the women
tend to love these rapist types--if by accident.
Even if the ladies, once the relationship,
goes sour, would rather die than be in the room with him,
the initial attraction--that spark that led her to him--
comes from the same place that enables him to smother her with a pillow,
and call her dumb and ugly. The same spark that gets him to be funny,
and sweet, and so manly and strong is the spark
that gets him to place a bullet in her purse when
she's not looking, and to follow her to her work,
and be outside of her home when she's leaving to hang out with friends.
Women never bitch about boring, nice guys. Not after the break up.
They only bitch out the mean, abusive ones,
who stole their necklaces, and cheat on them with their best friends.
The women bitch because they liked those guys.
Maybe they still do.
They usually do.
The boring ones are forgotten, if they even existed.
Women only remember--and love--the men who'd give them black eyes."

"And what kind of man are you?" his friend said.

The man showed his wedding ring. "The punching kind."

"That's sick," his friend said.

"It's the truth, you virgin-faggot."