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Maturity Is For the Weak
by Adam Finley
As an acute observer of human behavior, I've noticed there has always been a strong desire among grown men to bed teenage girls.
Age of consent laws are put in place by each state to protect teens from these men, but is it possible that these men understand something we don't?
Take, for example, some random 35-year-old man. While most men his age have reached a level of maturity where they wouldn't even entertain the idea of trying to screw a teenage girl, this man not only wants to feel the warm embrace of someone who's failing freshman algebra, he constructs his entire social identity around this endeavor. He'll pop up inexplicably at prom meetings, offering to serve punch even though he's clearly not a faculty member. When he's working, he always takes his smoke break near a school, even if it requires him to take three buses and a cab to get there. He has no children of his own, but he still attends PTA meetings to demand the volleyball uniforms be made more revealing.
He understands that in order to seduce a teenager, one must always be like a teenager. Men willing to dedicate countless hours to scanning the MySpace profiles of Powerpuff Girls aficionados understand that prolonging the phase in our life when we are at our most self-centered and emotionally unbalanced is a far better path to romance than amassing historical and cultural knowledge through sheer love of improving oneself and discussing such topics with a grown woman in an eating establishment that doesn't list Uncle Freezenstein's Nutty 'Nana Fudge Blast as a dessert item. It only takes a few seconds to log into a chatroom, type the phrase "Hilary Duff rulz!" and have several vacuous, corporate-conditioned, peppermint lipgloss-wearing girls kneeling at the altar of your metaphorical cyber wang.
By contrast, a woman who is 35 may be so well-educated and so refined in her tastes that the only way to forge any kind of romantic relationship with her would be to have risen above the awkwardness of teenage life, experienced the real world, and developed into some semblance of a gentleman. Granted, this was easier for our grandparents because they had things like the Great Depression and World War II to help them make the transition from youth to adulthood. Now that the military is voluntary it's much more difficult. Every day I curse our government for making today's dating scene so inconvenient.
One argument is that the media holds these young and untouchable girls up as the sexual ideal; that it's hypocritical to expect men not to try to fuck them. Everyday when I go to the convenience store I am bombarded with magazine covers featuring scantily-clad images of girls who are under the legal age of consent. This is a grossly unfair world for men to live in, especially those of us who feel it is our God-given right to never be responsible for our own actions.
It's also just as outlandish to expect these men to have some semblance of control over their sexual urges, or to try and actually sleep with women their own age. A grown, sexually-experienced woman is not only a challenging conquest, but you may have to engage her intellectually before she'll even consider sleeping with you. Feminism may have forced this idea into society, but it completely negates evolution. Men are drawn, by our very genetic make-up, to the young and nubile. A man cannot stop himself from trying to bed the captain of the cheerleading squad anymore than he can stop himself from angrily throwing his own feces at others and subsisting on a steady diet of bananas and coconuts. My simian ancestry not only absolves me of the guilt thrown at me by society over my insatiable lust for anything in pigtails chewing Bubble Yum, it's also why I'm often oblivious to my own public nakedness and enjoy digging parasites out of my hair and eating them. If a woman is turned off by the fact that I have no control over myself whatsoever and become easily agitated by sudden changes in light and sound, then perhaps "Queen Perfection" should look elsewhere for her mate. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to renew my subscription to Maxim.
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