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She got away. That’s the fourth one this week. Well, that about seals it. I am without a doubt the worst rapist in the world.
No, don’t. Don’t try to make me feel better. I’m not fishing for sympathy here. I’m merely stating an obvious fact. I can’t pull off a decent rape to save my life.
Tonight’s failure was a new low, even for a crappy rapist like me. She told me to wait out in the BP minimart while she went into the bathroom and fixed her makeup. She said she wanted to look nice for the rape, which at the time I considered to be extremely considerate. So I’m standing around waiting outside the ladies room like a goof for at least 25 minutes, trying to look inconspicuous by thumbing through an “US Weekly”, when it occurs to me that she had probably snuck out a back window. I didn’t even investigate to confirm my suspicion. I was too mortified by own incompetence. I just got in my van and drove off.
Why did I even let her talk me into stopping off at that gas station to get snacks? What kind of a ruthless sex offender lets his quarry bully him into stopping for Combos?
Man I’m a bad rapist.
At least I somehow managed to get that one into my minivan. That’s much further than I got with my last two would-be victims. Like that brunette lady in the park the other day. I really thought that I did everything right that time. I drove right up to her and said “Get in the car lady!” and she just kept walking like she didn’t even hear me. But I’m pretty sure she did. So I said it again, louder this time. And she stopped and said “Leave me alone you loser!” I apologized and quickly drove away.
I’ve never dealt well with conflict.
You know what I really hate? When they laugh at me. Like, the other day when I jumped out of that alley and I yelled at that heavyset little blonde woman, “This is a rape!” And she just laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. I got so embarassed that I just ran away. And that made her laugh even harder. I could hear her for like three blocks. Why do fat girls laugh so loud? In retrospect, I guess telling her that “this was a rape” was a pretty silly thing to do. But I was just trying to establish a sense of fear and urgency while simultaneously getting myself psyched up and into rape-mode. I guess it just came off all wrong.
 | | My Rapin' Van |
Let’s see, where does this put my “rape failure” to “rape victories” ratio? Let’s take a look:
Rapist Failures: 12
Rapist Victories: 1
That’s right. Only one lousy rape in all of those attempts. And to tell the truth, in retrospect I’m pretty sure that one encounter was consensual. She was a drunk girl that I met at the bar and she seemed pretty into it. We actually still e-mail each other. I also told her that I’d help her move next weekend.
Oh, who am I kidding? That wasn’t a rape!
I have this rapist buddy, Dan, and he’s the type of rapist that I really aspire to be. Dan rapes great. Anyways, he told me that my problem is that I’m just not assertive enough. And that’s probably true. I’ve simply never been the pushy type.
Dan recommends that I hit the gym to get my confidence up. He also thinks that I should concentrate for an hour each day about all of the things that I despise most about womankind. Then, when I’m raping, I should reflect back on all of that pain and contempt for females and utilize it while unleashing my predatory sexual fury.
That doesn’t really sound like something I’d be good at though, so I think I’m just going to grow a mustache instead. I figure a rapist image tune-up is just what the doctor ordered, and nothing screams “successful rapist” like a big old honkin’ stache.
Yeah. I feel good about this. I’m down but I’m not out. Watch your backs ladies, this wolf is still on the prowl.
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