its real i swear

to contact me for a couple of months.
The first episode of my favorite television series of all time, Game of Thrones, was released in April. I
watched it with profound excitement. Being a fan of the books, this was a very anticipated event for me.
Seeing all of the characters that I knew so well on the television screen was spectacular. The show
exceeded all of my expectations. Each week I looked forward to the next episode, and each episode
gave me a small hint of joy in my otherwise bleak life.
Towards the end of my Spring semester at Moorpark, I was so frustrated with my lonely status at the
college that I refused to even drive up there in the last few weeks. I left my home in the mornings,
pretending to my mother that I was going to college, but instead I went to Barnes & Noble and sat there
until my mother left for work, and then I would go back home. I made sure to stay at Barnes & Noble for
at least two hours, just in case my mother left later than usual. I have always ever been meticulously
careful at everything I’ve done.
On the last day, I went to my classes, quickly took my final exams, and left. When my classes lined up
for the final exams, everyone had a group to socialize with while I stood on the side, alone. Everyone
must have thought I was a complete loser. Thank goodness it was the last day. The people in those
classes angered me to no end. That was the last time I would ever see that college. On the drive home, I
cried to myself as I listened to music on the radio, as I always did. I failed to get the life I wanted at
Moorpark.
I had nothing going for me in my life, except for the prospect of starting a new life in Santa Barbara.
That was my only hope, and it seemed very bleak. From the way things went at Moorpark, I feared the
worst for how things might turn out in Santa Barbara, but I had to give it a try. I was desperate to have
the life I know I deserve; a life of being wanted by attractive girls, a life of sex and love. Other men are
able to have such a life… so why not me? I deserve it! I am magnificent, no matter how much the world
treated me otherwise. I am destined for great things.
At the end of Spring I had to commence with my summoning to jury service. I received the summons
in the mail a few months prior, but I postponed it until May because I was too anguished to deal with
such trivial matters at the time. The Courthouse was all the way in Santa Monica. As I sat in the waiting
room before my interview with the judge, I saw a very pretty girl who looked about the same age as I
was. She had a face that melted my heart. What I would give to hold her in my arms and kiss that pretty
face of hers… I wanted to talk to her, but I just couldn’t. I felt too insecure. I was afraid she would think
of me as a creep, as all other girls did. To my fury, another guy came in and struck up a conversation
with her. They started talking comfortably, and he even made her laugh! I had to watch it all, and it
broke my heart.
I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. I hoped that I could make an excuse to avoid having to
do jury service. When I was called in for the interview, I requested to be excused due to the fact that I
was moving to Santa Barbara soon. To my relief, the judge told me I can go and wished me good luck. As
I drove out of the Courthouse parking lot, I saw the same pretty girl. She must have been excused as
well. Again, I wished I could have said something to her. She would have made the perfect girlfriend for
me, but she was probably already attracted to that other guy who sweet-talked her in the waiting room.
Damn him! I felt so sad on the drive home. When I passed by the Palisades, I stopped by at a park that I
used to play at with James when the two of us were little. I walked around for a bit and took a ride on
the swing, reminiscing about happier times.
At the very end of May, my mother gave me an unpleasant surprise by telling me that I had to move
to Santa Barbara on June 4th, which was just in a few days. I wasn’t prepared to move so soon. I thought
I would go there towards the end of June, right before I start my summer class. I wanted more time to
emotionally and mentally prepare for such a huge undertaking. And it was a huge undertaking. For the
first time in my life, I was moving out of my parent’s house; and on top of that, I had to move into an
apartment with other college students. I had no idea what to expect, and of course I was very nervous.
My mother and I found two apartment complexes in Isla Vista that I could potentially move into. I
went with my mother and father on a day trip to Santa Barbara to take a look at them. We first had
lunch at a restaurant on Cliff Drive, and while there I admired how beautiful Santa Barbara truly was. I
found it to be like a mixture of Malibu and Santa Monica, depending on what part of it I was in.
I was astounded when we toured through Isla Vista. It was a whole town of college students living
together, right next to UCSB, and right next to the beach. I had never seen anything like it in my life.
When I read about it online I thought it was too good to be true, but there it was. It was exactly as I
expected it to be. There were hot blonde girls walking around everywhere.
I always theorized that one of the main hindrances to me living the life I desire was my situation of
living in my mother’s apartment. I thought to myself, as we explored more of this college town, that if I
lived there, then there was no way I would have trouble getting a social life and losing my virginity. It
was the perfect environment to do so. If I can’t get laid there, then there is no hope for me at all.
The first apartment building we looked at was pleasant, but they only had shared rooms, and I
wanted my own room. The second apartment building was called Capri Apartments, and they had a
setup of many two-bedroom apartments shared between three college students, in which one occupies
the single room and the other two occupy the shared room. The single rooms cost more, of course, but
it wasn’t much. My parents and I sat down at a café to talk about it. We agreed that Capri Apartments
was the best choice. My mother went back to their office to arrange a lease deal. Capri was a very
popular apartment complex, so it was hard to get a spot there so late in the year. They didn’t have any
Autumn semester apartment units ready until July, so it was arranged that I would stay in a temporary
apartment unit for the first month, and then move to a permanent one in July once it was ready. The
lease was signed and the deal was set. I was going to move to Santa Barbara on June 4th.
My mother was very adamant that I move on that particular date. She said it was because she wanted
me to go there and settle in before college started, but I knew the real reason. She always wanted me
out of her house because she hated having to deal with me. The Santa Barbara plan would free her of
me, and she wanted that so badly that she was willing to pay $900 a month for my apartment room
rent. Basically, she was paying money to get rid of me. I realized that once I moved out, there was no
going back. It will set a precedent, and the threshold will be crossed. My mother will never welcome me
back to live with her permanently ever again.
In the remaining days I had at my mother’s apartment, I spent a lot of time meditating about how I
would deal with this huge change. I had to prepare myself as much as possible, so I did a lot of
introspecting and evaluated myself in great detail. This move to Santa Barbara was the only chance I had
of attaining the life I desire. I had to do my best to make this work, proclaiming to myself that this time, I
will not fail. I exercised in the gym for many hours to boost my confidence as much as possible, and I
went to the mall to shop for clothes. Last Christmas I got a few gift cards for Macy’s, and I spent them all
on a few shirts that I thought I would look good in, as well as new shoes. After doing everything I could
do to physically boost my confidence and appearance, I was ready.
And so ends another era of my extraordinary and tragic life. I call it the era of Hope and Hopelessness,
where I drifted and languished in lonely despair while I lived at my mother’s apartment and attended
two colleges. At various intervals, something happened to give me a new hope for my life, only to have it
shattered later on. My life had been moving in that same pattern for a long time now,
and I was sick and tired of it. All while I was suffering this lonely existence, other boys my age lived their
happy lives of pleasure and sex. I can never forgive such an injustice, and it was my bid to
overcompensate for it in the future. I had to make up for all the years I lost in loneliness and isolation,
through no fault of my own! It was society’s fault for rejecting me. It was women’s fault for refusing to
have sex with me.
The move to Santa Barbara is the endgame, the ultimate climax of everything. I saw it as a new chance
that was given to me to finally have the things I want in life: love, sex, friends, fun, acceptance, a sense of
belonging. But I could never forgive the world for denying me such things in the past. I was already
turning twenty soon. I had already lost many years of my life. I deserve better than that. I am an
intelligent gentleman, and I deserve the love of girls more than the other obnoxious boys of my age, and
yet they get girls and I don’t. That is a crime that can never be forgotten, nor can it be forgiven. I always
wanted to exact my revenge on humanity for forcing me to live such a life, but I’ve also always had the
hope that if I can do things in life to make up for all my suffering, then that in itself would be a form of
peaceful revenge.
In truth, the move Santa Barbara was actually a chance that I was giving to the world, not the other
way around! I was giving the world one last chance to give me the life that I know I’m entitled to, the life
that other boys are able to live with ease. If I still have to suffer the same rejection and injustice even
after I move to Santa Barbara, then that will be the last straw. I will have my vengeance.
Part 6
Santa Barbara: Endgame
Age 19-22
On Saturday, June 4th, 2011, I packed up all of my most important belongings into my car, said
farewell to my mother, and drove off to face my destiny in the beautiful ocean-side town of Santa
Barbara. It was raining as I arrived in the vicinity, and I felt a sense of ominous foreboding as I entered
Isla Vista, my new home. My father met me outside my apartment; he came to help me move in.
The two of us walked up to the leasing office where they gave me my new set of keys, and then one
of the receptionists walked me to the apartment unit that I will be staying in for a month. I was
introduced to two new housemates who would only be there for one week. One of them was named
Artem, a quiet Russian student who went to UCSB; and the other, whose name I don’t remember, was a
tall blonde surfer-type boy who went to SBCC. I was annoyed at how tall and attractive he was, though I
didn’t show it.
After I unpacked all of my belongings, father and I went out for a quick lunch before I said goodbye to
him. And that was it. For the first time in my life, I was living independently, miles away from my
parents, in a new town. I felt a sudden sense of anxiety, fear, and trepidation; but I also felt a sense of
hope that my life could possibly change for the better. I exchanged small talk with my new housemates,
and they seemed nice enough. It was hard to believe that I was actually living in an apartment with two
other college students who I didn’t know until that day, especially for someone like me who has had
very minimal social interaction with other young people. It felt so odd and peculiar. I was uncertain of
what to expect, and the anxiety I felt from that uncertainty was overwhelming, but I knew I had to push
through this. I knew this was the major turning point of my life. My life was finally changing, and I had to
do my best to make that change a positive one.
The very first night was traumatic and gave me a very bad taste about everything. Through my
window I heard a lot of students partying outside, and I wondered, with a great amount of fear, how I
would ever be able to join in on their fun. That was the reason I was there, after all. I didn’t think I was
capable of it. Later in the night, I heard a boy and a girl having sex in the apartment above me. Just
knowing that other young men get to enjoy the pleasures of sex while I get none of it has always filled
me with envious rage, as well as bitter hatred towards the world; but to actually hear them doing it?
That was even more traumatizing. I was prepared for this, however. I had done a lot of research about
college life in the town of Isla Vista, and I knew that students had a lot of sex there. I had an inkling of a
suspicion that I would eventually hear or even see people doing such things if I lived in that
environment. Hell, the reason I moved there was because it was a sexually active place. I myself wanted
to be sexually active. But when I heard that couple above me having sex, I couldn’t help feeling vile and
miserable about it. I tried to calm myself down and convince myself that soon I will be doing the exact
same thing. How wrong I was.
My first week turned out to be very unpleasant, leaving a horrific first impression of my new life in
Santa Barbara. My two housemates were nice, but they kept inviting over this friend of theirs named
Chance. He was black boy who came over all the time, and I hated his cocksure attitude. Inevitably, a
vile incident occurred between me and him. I was eating a meal in the kitchen when he came over and
started bragging to my housemates about his success with girls. I couldn’t stand it, so I proceeded to ask
them all if they were virgins. They all looked at me weirdly and said that they had lost their virginity long
ago. I felt so inferior, as it reminded me of how much I have missed out in life. And then this black boy
named Chance said that he lost his virginity when he was only thirteen! In addition, he said that the girl
he lost his virginity to was a blonde white girl! I was so enraged that I almost splashed him with my
orange juice. I indignantly told him that I did not believe him, and then I went to my room to cry. I cried
and cried and cried, and then I called my mother and cried to her on the phone.
How could an inferior, ugly black boy be able to get a white girl and not me? I am beautiful, and I am
half white myself. I am descended from British aristocracy. He is descended from slaves. I deserve it
more. I tried not to believe his foul words, but they were already said, and it was hard to erase from my
mind. If this is actually true, if this ugly black filth was able to have sex with a blonde white girl at the age
of thirteen while I’ve had to suffer virginity all my life, then this just proves how ridiculous the female
gender is. They would give themselves to this filthy scum, but they reject ME? The injustice!
Females truly have something mentally wrong with them. Their minds are flawed, and at this point in
my life I was beginning to see it. The more I explored my college town of Isla Vista, the more
ridiculousness I witnessed. All of the hot, beautiful girls walked around with obnoxious, tough jock-type
men who partied all the time and acted crazy. They should be going for intelligent gentlemen such as
myself. Women are sexually attracted to the wrong type of man. This is a major flaw in the very
foundation of humanity. It is completely and utterly wrong, in every sense of the word. As these truths
fully dawned on me, I became deeply disturbed by them. Deeply disturbed, offended, and traumatized.
Those two housemates moved out within a week. I was glad to see them go, after that horrible
incident. I was then presented with two new housemates, who would be staying in the apartment for
the rest of the month that I was there. Their names were Daniel Faynshell and Reed Mankins. Reed was
a quiet Asian-American student who was studying biology at UCSB, and Daniel was a heavy-set Russian
student who had a witty personality. Both of them were older than me by a couple of years. Daniel was
very social and talkative. He often tried to start conversations with me, which I actually liked. Social
interaction was always welcome in my lonely life, and I found him to be a very interesting person. It was
nice to have someone reach out to me.
Soon enough, my summer session at Santa Barbara City College began. I had enrolled for two classes,
a history class and a geography class. The history class started at 8:00 in the morning. When my alarm
rang, I enthusiastically put on one my new shirts as I got ready to start my first day of my new college.
The weather was sunny and bright as I made the drive down the 101 Freeway. This was it. This was the
moment of truth. My whole life has led to this.
I was starting a new college, in a beautiful new town. This was my fresh start to attain the life I’ve
been craving for so long. If I am unable to make it in this opportunistic environment, then I am doomed
forever.
I felt a surge of confidence as I ascended the flight of stairs that led up to the main campus. For my
first class, which was history, I had to cross the iconic bridge to the west campus. I tried to feel as
confident and sure of myself as possible, thinking that all of the girls I passed were attracted to my
appearance. They should be. I spent a lot of time choosing out that shirt and doing my hair.
When I reached the classroom, I saw some pretty girls waiting outside. My new classmates, I thought
with excitement. I was a bit dismayed that they didn’t pay any attention to me. They didn’t even look at
me. I was sure I had an attractive appearance that day, but those girls didn’t seem to notice it. Perhaps I
was deluding myself.
As all of the students started pouring in, a group of typical popular-type boys sat near me. Their
overly social and obnoxious personalities offended me, and I felt like getting up and leaving. They
somehow knew all of the pretty girls in the class, and it broke my heart to watch them chat up the girls.
How could I compete with those popular kids? I hated them so much. I’ve wanted to be like them all my
life, ever since elementary school, but they never accepted me. They have caused my life to be a living
hell for so long. Right then, on the very first day of SBCC, I was going through the exact thing as I did at
every other school I’ve been to; the feeling of being a lonely, unwanted outcast.
That class was horrible, but I didn’t want to give up so soon. I couldn’t! My whole life depended on my
success in Santa Barbara. I attended my geography class next. This class was much more interesting, and
more relaxed, but it didn’t have any pretty girls in it. After lunch I walked over to the cafeteria area, and I
saw so many pretty blonde girls sitting around. I wished I had the courage to go up to them and ask one
on a date, but they would have seen me as a creep. Girls are so cruel.
After I left the campus I drove around downtown Santa Barbara to explore new areas. I went up and
down State Street, the main common area of the city where everyone frequents.
Countless restaurants and shops lined a magnificently designed street with wide walkways. It was
absolutely beautiful… a true paradise, for those who were thriving there. I can only imagine how
heavenly it would be to walk with a beautiful girlfriend down that street. My life would be complete if I
get to do that. It would be the epitome of gratifying perfection. To have a beautiful blonde girl by my
side, to feel her hand clasping my own as we walk everywhere together, to feel her love! That is what I
want in life. Instead, I had to watch other men experience my idea of heaven while I rot in bitter
loneliness.
And there were a lot of young couples on State Street. The whole area was full of young people
enjoying their pleasurable little lives. I saw groups of good looking popular boys and girls gleefully
walking together. It reminded me of that fateful night, years ago, when I walked through the Calabasas
Commons and saw the same thing. And there I was, over two years later, still in the exact same position.
It was very hard to deal with. I quickly drove back to my apartment and cried to myself, soaking my
pillow in the tears of my agony.
So far, Santa Barbara was not working. I dreaded how horrible it would be to continue suffering my
miserable, lonely, celibate life in such a beautiful city where everyone else experienced the pleasures of
sex and love. That would be the darkest hell. And that was exactly what was in store for me.
After a couple of days I decided to drop my history class. I couldn’t stand watching those obnoxious
popular boys talk to all of the pretty girls in the class. The girls actually liked them! I should be the one
they pay attention to, but they treated me like I was invisible. I didn’t want to torture myself any longer.
I felt a sense of guilt as I did it, because I made a bid to make the best of my time in Santa Barbara. Once
the class was dropped, I felt a sense of relief. I was still enrolled in the geography class, and it was only
the summer session. I had plenty of time to make up for it.
I spent the rest of my first month trying as hard as I could to put myself out in the social environment
of Isla Vista. Daniel was twenty three years old, so I asked him to purchase some alcohol for me, a bottle
of vodka in particular. In that college town, everyone went out with at least a little alcohol in their
system. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but drinking alcohol always helped me with being more confident and
sociable. On weekend nights, I took a few shots from my vodka bottle and set out on walks around the
town, desperately hoping that I would stumble across some opportunity to make friends. I often ended
up sitting alone at some café, hoping girls would talk to me before I sobered up. No girl ever did. I then
went back home to lie in my bed alone.
On one such night I got drunk enough to introduce myself to some other students who lived in the
same apartment complex. They were sitting in the common area of the apartment, and I went up to
their group and sat down with them. They weren’t hostile towards me, and I was able to exchange some
form of small talk with them. After a while though, I ended up just sitting there awkwardly, and they
eventually questioned why I was so quiet. I hated when people did that… no one ever understands the
troubles of someone who suffers from social anxiety. They offered me a few beers, which I gladly
accepted. I ended up getting so drunk that I completely blacked out. I stumbled back to my apartment
and vomited on the floor, just like I did on that embarrassing night at Addison Altendorf’s birthday party.
The next morning, I didn’t even remember that I vomited. Daniel informed me of what happened, with
an amused grin on his face. I felt so ashamed, but at least I did something more social than anything else
I’ve done in the last few years. That was some progress, I supposed.
Due to living in an entirely new environment, with lots of new experiences to come with it, the first
month in Santa Barbara went by very slowly. I was relieved when July arrived, and I was able to visit
home for a weekend. When I arrived back in Woodland Hills, I felt like I hadn’t been there for ages. It
was a pleasant feeling, as it gave me the subconscious impression that my life was finally moving
forward instead of staying stagnant.
When I arrived back at my mother’s apartment, she was away at work, and Georgia was at school. I
took a moment to relax after going through so much trauma and unrest, catching up on all of the Game
of Thrones episodes that I missed, including the Season 1 finale. Later that night, I met my mother and
father at an upscale restaurant near Warner Center, and they both seemed very proud of me. I wasn’t
proud of myself, as I barely met my expectations in my first month in Santa Barbara. I had an exquisite
meal at the restaurant, and while there I saw a pretty girl walk in with her family. I glanced at her and
she glanced at me. I desperately wondered if she thought I was attractive, and I tried to convince myself
that she was attracted to me, in an effort to feel better about myself. Whether she was attracted to me
or not is a question I will never know the answer to.
There was no school on the following Monday, due to the 4th of July Holiday. I went with my mother
to the annual 4th of July party at the Lemelson’s. There, I saw James for the first time in a while. It felt
good to see him again. He had been ignoring me in the last couple of months, but the two of us
reignited our good friendship at the party. I told him that I was now going to college in Santa Barbara,
and he seemed happy for me. As I ate dinner with him, Noah, and a few of Noah’s friends at a table
outside, I filmed a funny video that I still have on my phone to this day.
On the next morning, I made my drive back to Santa Barbara to finish the second half of my summer
session. I prayed that I would have a better experience from then on.
When I got back to Capri Apartments it was time for me to transfer to my permanent apartment unit,
the apartment unit that I was set to stay in for the whole year. I loaded all of my belongings into my car
and said goodbye to Daniel and Reed. I enjoyed my stay with them. They made for excellent college
housemates. Before I left, Daniel told me that I should come to visit in the future.
My new apartment was in another Capri Apartments building. The main building was on Seville Road,
in the center of Isla Vista. The other building that I was meant to stay at was on Abrego Road, a few
blocks away, towards the edge of the town. At first I was unsure of the location, though it was still
walking distance from all of the action. It was definitely quieter in that area, so that was a positive.
One of the receptionists showed me to my new bedroom. The apartment unit was empty. My new
housemates wouldn’t be moving in until August, so I would have the whole apartment to myself for the
month of July. I quite liked that. It would provide me with the comfort to settle into the place. I had no
idea who my new housemates were going to be, and I was hoping they would be people I could be
friends with to help improve my social life. All of the rooms were randomly assigned at Capri
Apartments, so I had no control over who I would end up with. I could only hope that they would be at
least tolerable, because they were to be my housemates for the whole year.
My father drove up to Santa Barbara to meet me a few days later. The two of us went to have lunch at
a restaurant in the Camino Real Marketplace, an area that I often frequented. When we sat down at our
table, I saw a young couple sitting a few tables down the row. The sight of them enraged me to no end,
especially because it was a dark-skinned Mexican guy dating a hot blonde white girl. I regarded it as a
great insult to my dignity. How could an inferior Mexican guy be able to date a white blonde girl, while
I was still suffering as a lonely virgin? I was ashamed to be in such an inferior position in front my father.
When I saw the two of them kissing, I could barely contain my rage. I stood up in anger, and I was about
to walk up to them and pour my glass of soda all over their heads. I probably would have, if father
wasn’t there. I was seething with envious rage, and my father was there to watch it all. It was so
humiliating. I wasn’t the son I wanted to present to my father. I should be the one with the hot blonde
girl, making my father proud. Instead, my father had to watch me suffer in a pathetic position. Life is so
cruel to me. When I said my farewell to father before he drove home, I felt absolutely miserable. I then
went back to my room and sulked for hours.
Another incident happened on the following day, near the same location. I went to the Starbucks at
the Camino Real Marketplace by myself, like I usually did every morning. I ordered my coffee and sat
down on one of their chairs to relax. A few moments later, when I looked up from my drink, I saw a
young couple standing in line. The two of them were kissing passionately. The boy looked like an
obnoxious punk; he was tall and wore baggy pants. The girl was a pretty blonde! They looked like they
were in the throes of passionate sexual attraction to each other, rubbing their bodies together and
tongue kissing in front of everyone. I was absolutely livid with envious hatred. When they left the store I
followed them to their car and splashed my coffee all over them. The boy yelled at me and I quickly ran
away in fear. I was panicking as I got into my car and drove off, shaking with rage-fueled excitement. I
drove all the way to the Vons at the Fairview Plaza and spent three hours in my car trying to contain my
tumultuous emotions. I had never struck back at my enemies before, and I felt a small sense of spiteful
gratification for doing so. I hated them so much. Even though I splashed them with my coffee, he was
still the winner. He was going home to have passionate heavenly sex with his beautiful girlfriend, and I
was going home to my lonely room to sleep alone in my lonely bed. I had never felt so miserable and
mistreated in my life. I cursed the world for condemning me to such suffering.
I wanted to do horrible things to that couple. I wanted to inflict pain on all young couples. It was
around this point in my life that I realized I was capable of doing such things. I would happily do such
things. I was capable of killing them, and I wanted to. I wanted to kill them slowly, to strip the skins off
their flesh. They deserve it. The males deserve it for taking the females away from me, and the females
deserve it for choosing those males instead of me.
Ever since I was seventeen, I often fantasized about becoming powerful and inflicting suffering upon
everyone who has wronged me in the past, but I never thought I would actually do it. At this point, after
going through so much suffering and injustice, all of my innocence had been swept away. The world had
been cruel to me, and it molded me to become strong enough to actually have the capability of returning
that cruelness to the world. I had never been a violent person in nature, but after building up so much
hatred over the years, I realized that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill or even torture my hated enemies if I was
given the opportunity.
I spent the next five days in my room, trying to forget about the horrific experiences I had to go
through. But even in my room, I couldn’t escape from being reminded of my worthlessness. Every time I
looked out my window to the courtyard, I saw young people socializing. Obnoxious drunk boys were
chatting up pretty girls, and I wondered with great panic if they would be having sex together in the
night. I often fantasized about barging into their rooms while they had sex and slashing them to death
with my knife.
Before I knew it, it was July 12th and the countdown on my internet homepage was up. The new Song
of Ice and Fire book, A Dance with Dragons, was released. I emailed my mother to order me the book
from Amazon. The countdown was ultimately over, and I had nothing to show for it. I was still a virgin,
even after a month of living in a town full of college kids who had sex all the time. I realized that I had
only twelve more days as a teenager! I was going to turn twenty very soon. One of my hopes was to at
least lose my virginity before my time as a teenager was over. Being a virgin at the age of twenty would
make me feel very defeated.
I made a bid to do everything I could to lose my virginity in those few remaining days I had. With a
tremendous amount of panic, I wondered what I could possible do. The only thing I could think of was to
go out to the common areas of Isla Vista as much as possible. I had to put myself out there, even if it
only increased my chances of having sex by one percent. One percent was still better than zero.
For those crucial twelve days I had left as a teenager, I walked over to the center of Isla Vista every
day and sat at one of the tables outside Domino’s Pizza, hoping against hope that a girl would come up
and talk to me. Why wouldn’t they? I looked good enough, didn’t I? Or did I not look good enough? Such
thoughts flew through my head in frantic waves. For dinner, I always walked over to the healthy
restaurant called Silvergreen’s. There were always hot girls there, but none of them deigned to even
look at me. On every one of those nights, I walked home alone, with my head down in defeat.
I made no progress in school either. My geography class had no pretty girls in it, so I had no hope
there. I spent a lot of time sitting in the cafeteria area, but all of the beautiful girls I saw intimidated me
too much. One time, as I was walking across the huge bridge that connected the two campuses, I passed
by a girl I thought was pretty and said “Hi” as we neared each other. She kept on walking and didn’t
even have the grace to respond to me. How dare she! That foul bitch. I felt so humiliated that I went to
one of the school bathrooms, locked myself in a toilet stall, and cried for an hour.
On one of my very last days as a teenager, as I was sitting at my usual place at the food court outside
Domino’s, I saw a sight that shattered my heart to pieces. A tall, blonde, jock-type guy walked into one
of the restaurants, and at his side was one of the sexiest girls I had ever seen. She too was tall and
blonde. They were both taller than me, and they kissed each other passionately. They made me feel so
inferior and worthless and small. I glared at them with intense hatred as I sat by myself in my lonely
misery. I could never have a girl like that. The sight was burned into my memory, and it caused a scar
that will haunt me forever. When they walked away, I followed them in my car for a few minutes, and
when they entered a less inhabited area I opened my window and splashed my iced tea all over them. It
was all I could do at the time, but at least it was something. At least I made some effort to fight back
against the injustice. I felt sick with hatred that night. The hatred boiled inside me with burning vitriol.
My summer session ended with no positive effect on my life. After I completed my final exam, on
which I received the grade of a B, I drove back to my hometown feeling defeated.
Shortly after, my 20th birthday finally came. Soumaya and Jazz were away in Morocco for the summer,
so father met up with me, my mother, and my sister at an upscale restaurant in Encino. My parents
didn’t show any concern for how miserable I felt about being a twenty-year-old virgin. They treated it as
if it was any normal birthday. They didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, which
annoyed me immensely. The restaurant had an “all-you-can eat” buffet system, and I greatly stuffed
myself that night. Delicious food was the only vice I was able to enjoy, since I was deprived of sex. I had
a very fast metabolism, so I could eat as much as I wanted without getting fat. I suppose that was one
advantage in my rather disadvantageous life.
When I got back to my mother’s apartment, she let me have a bottle of wine, and I truly drank my fill.
“Everything’s better with some wine in the belly.” I spent the rest of the night pondering over what was
in store for me at that point in life. I was no longer a teenager, and I’ll never be able to experience
having sex as a teenager. My teenage years were completely denied to me by the cruelness of women.
The only way I could make up for it was if I could have an extraordinary sex life in my twenties. I would
have to have a profoundly amazing decade in my twenties to compensate for all the misery I
experienced in my teens. If I fail to do that, then I have nothing to live for. Sadly, I will only experience
the opposite in my early twenties, and it will destroy me.
20 Years Old
I stayed in my hometown for a week. One of my birthday presents was a gift card to Nordstrom. I
spent it on a couple of new polo shirts that made me feel a little more confident. Buying new clothes
would always give me a temporary boost of confidence, and I practiced it as if it was a drug.
Before I left for Santa Barbara, I reunited with Philip and Addison after a very long period of not seeing
them. The three of us met up at the Calabasas Commons, and then we went in Philip’s car to Malibu for a
few adventures. We ended up settling down at Starbucks and had a few insightful conversations.
Addison had changed and matured tremendously, and he was no longer associating with the popular
Malibu high school kids. This didn’t change my resentment towards him, and I kept confronting him the
whole time about the insulting way he treated me over a year ago. After a lot of debating, we agreed to
resolve our conflict with each other. This didn’t mean I forgot all of the slights he dealt to me in the past,
however. I never forget. I never forgive. One day I’ll show him how superior I
am.
On the day after I saw Philip and Addison, I went over to James’s house. I hadn’t been there for ages,
and the two of us relived our traditional walks around the Palisades town center, just like old times. It
felt strange and nostalgic to experience it after so long, especially after going through so many changes
in Santa Barbara. I told James about my turmoil of being a twenty-year-old virgin, and my desperate
hope that things will get better once I start my Autumn semester at my new college. I talked about all
the beautiful blonde girls I saw walking around my college, and my deep wish that I will have one day
have one as a girlfriend. James sympathized with me greatly, for he was also going through similar
troubles in life. He seemed glad that I was finally taking some steps to bring changes to my life.
I drove back to Santa Barbara in a slightly better mood than I was in when I left it. I had a month until
the new semester started, and I could use that time to prepare and recuperate. My new housemates
were meant to move into the second bedroom of my apartment on August 5th. I had an anxious feeling
of anticipation for what they will be like.
August 5th came quickly, and I prepared myself to be in a pleasant mood to meet them. Their names
were Ryan and Angel, and to my dismay they were of Hispanic race. In addition, the two of them were
already friends with each other, which meant that they could possibly gang up against me if any conflicts
were to arise. They also seemed like rowdy, low-class types. My first impression of them soured me, but
I tried to be pleasant and not show it. The two of them acted cordial to me on the first day, but after
observing them for a bit, I had a bad feeling that they would be trouble to live with… And they were to
be my housemates for a whole year! When I was alone in my room, I panicked to myself at how dire a
situation this was. This was extremely disappointing. I was hoping I would get decent, mature, clean-cut
housemates. Instead I got low-class scum.
On the second day, they started inviting their equally rowdy friends into my apartment, and we
exchanged more small talk. To my indignant surprise, they asked me the question I always dreaded
answering: “Are you a virgin?” I admitted that I was a virgin. I always admitted the truth about this. It
was my life struggle, and I couldn’t lie about such a thing. They then had the audacity to tell me that
they lost their virginity long ago, bragging about all the girls they had slept with. I particularly hated
Angel because of his ugly pig-face. How could such an ugly animal have had sexual experiences with
girls, and yet I haven’t? What was wrong with this world? I got so angry that I went to my room and
punched the wall. They heard me and started laughing. It was almost a repeat of what I experienced
with that black boy named Chance in the old apartment, except this time it was worse because these
were my housemates for the year!
On the day after, I almost got into a physical fight with Angel. The ugly pig kept acting as if girls
thought he was more attractive than me. Hah! I am a beautiful, magnificent gentleman and he is a lowclass, pig-faced thug. I had enough of his cocksure attitude, and I started to call him exactly what he was.
I tried to insult him as much as I could, telling him how superior I am to him, and saying that he was lowclass. He tried to attack me, but Ryan, being the more mellow of the two, held him back. A pity, I was
itching for a chance to hurt that obnoxious little animal. Though I suppose it was for the best… My life
was too important to risk doing anything rash.
In a panic, I immediately called my mother as soon as I could and told her of the dire situation. There
was no way I could live with those two imbeciles for the whole college year. They already ruined my
weekend. My mother agreed that I needed to get out of there, so I went to the leasing office and
explained to the manager everything that happened. He told me that there was another room available
for me to transfer to, but it would cost one hundred more dollars a month, because it was a larger two
bedroom unit and I would only be sharing it with one housemate, who would occupy the other room. I
called my mother and she gave me permission to go through with it. I signed the new lease, arranging to
transfer when the room became available in September. I would have to bear living with them for the
rest of the month until then.
To help get through the month, my mother let me come home every weekend until I was able to
transfer to the new apartment. I would only stay in Santa Barbara during the weekdays, but on those
weekdays Angel and Ryan went out of their way to make my life a living hell. Every time they went out
they kept yelling to me how they’re going to sleep with hot girls that night. I knew they were just lying to
make me jealous. They always made fun of me for being a virgin. At night, they frequently made noise to
wake me up. I was literally being bullied, and it was truly horrific. I wanted to kill them both, but of
course I was smart enough not to go through with that desire. All I could do was remember every single
insult, so I can get revenge in a more efficient way in the future. That is who I am. I don’t act stupidly or
rashly. I remember every insult, and I wait until the time is right to strike. When that time comes, I will
crush all of my enemies in the most devastating and catastrophic way possible, and the results will be
beautiful.
On one of the weekends in which I went home during August, my mother moved out of the Versailles
apartment complex, and moved into the Summit Townhomes, near Warner Center. It was an abrupt
decision to move there. I helped her pack everything and watched as the movers transported all of our
belongings to the new place. The Summit was much nicer looking than her old apartment; I’ll say that
for it. It was a townhome with an upstairs room that I would occupy whenever I visit home.
I was glad that she moved to a better place, but I would have much rather she got married to a
wealthy man and moved into his mansion. Even though she was no longer seeing Jack, she dated other
men of high class. She had a special way of charming them. I continued to pester her to get married so
that I can be part of an upper class family and enjoy all the benefits that would come with that, but she
always refused, claiming that she never wants to get married due to her unpleasant experiences with
my father. I told her that she should suffer through any negative aspects of marriage just for my sake,
because it would completely save my life, but she still refused.
I went over to James’s house during my visit home. The two of us chatted online a lot, and when I
told him that I was in town, he seemed eager to see me. I was eager to see him too, as he was my
closest friend and I had a lot to talk to him about. I drove up Topanga Canyon to his house, not knowing
that it will be the last time I ever visit him.
The two of us did what we usually did. We walked out to the Palisade’s Bluff’s where we discussed
our hopes and dreams. We then went to the Palisades town center to have dinner. This time we chose
to eat at Panda Express. While we were eating, some high school kids walked in. James saw them first,
and right when he saw them he said the words “We’re fucked”. James knew I would have trouble with
them. They were popular boys who had a flock of pretty girls with them. One of them sat down with two
of the girls, putting his leg up on another chair with a cocky smirk on his face. I was livid with rage, and I
wanted to pour my drink all over his head. James knew exactly what I was planning to do; we had been
through similar incidents before. He made a lot of effort to try to dissuade me from acting on my anger,
pointing out that there was a security guard nearby. I did the only other thing I could do; I packed up my
dinner and left the restaurant, fleeing in defeat and shame. James soon followed, and we decided to
finish our meal at his house.
A dark and ominous aura clouded over our friendship that day. When the two of us got back to
James’s house, I was still seething with rage. I didn’t understand why James wasn’t angry like me. The
sight that we just witnessed was horrible to watch. To see another male be successful with females is
torture for males like us who have no success with females. I was so angry that I told James of all of the
acts of revenge I wanted to exact on those popular boys. I told him my desire to flay them alive, to strip
the skins off their flesh and make them scream in agony as punishment for living a better life than me.
James became deeply disturbed by my anger. I wished that he wasn’t disturbed. I wished he could be a
friend that felt the same way about the world that I did. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He was a
weakling.
Once I had calmed down, the two of us had a long conversation in his room, and I ended up crying in
front of him as I explained how hopeless I felt about life. Soon after that, I left his house, never to return
there again. He will never invite me over after that incident, and our friendship will slowly fade to dust.
During the last few days that I had to endure living with those barbaric housemates, I often walked
out to Isla Vista hoping that I could meet a girl and take her home with me. I wanted to prove to them all
that girls liked me, to see the look on their faces when they see a girl by my side. But of course, I had
nothing to prove because girls didn’t like me. Every time I tried to go out and meet a girl, I ended up
walking home alone in anger. On one of these nights, I crossed paths with a boy who was walking with
two pretty girls. I got so envious that I cursed at them, and then I followed them for a few minutes. They
just laughed at me, and one of the girls kissed the boy on the lips. I’m assuming she was his girlfriend.
That was one of the worst experiences of torture from girls that I’ve had to endure, and it will be a scar
in my memory forever, to remind me that girls think I’m unworthy compared to other boys. I ran home
with tears pouring down my cheeks, hoping that my horrible housemates wouldn’t be there to witness
my shame.
I tried to spark a positive attitude on the first day of my Autumn semester at Santa Barbara City
College. I was registered for three classes; history, astronomy, and math. My history and astronomy
classes were in the morning, and my math class was late in the afternoon, so on school days I had to
spend the entire day at the college. I figured this would be beneficial, because it would keep me out of
my room and in a place where possible opportunities might come my way. I had to wait a couple of
hours before my math class started, and I spent those hours roaming around the college or sitting in the
library, looking at all of the hot girls and wishing I could have one as a girlfriend. I was like a starving man
surrounded by a feast that I was prohibited to eat.
All of my classes left me feeling hopeless and depressed. Not only was I unable to meet any girls, and
there were a lot of pretty ones, but I also had a hard time making any friends. I’ve always had a hard
time making friends… I’m not the type of person that can fit in with a group of outgoing people; the last
time I did such a thing was when I was twelve. I had to make friends. Having a social circle will provide
me with more opportunities to meet girls, and it was the only way to get invited to all of those exciting
college parties. But no one even wanted to be my friend. I actually tried to initiate small talk with guys
who sat next to me, but it never went far. I had a horrible feeling that I was in for a very miserable time
in Santa Barbara.
I did make one friend through spending time in my apartment’s courtyard. This friend’s name was
Andy Chan; he was a foreign student from China. Andy shared the same eagerness as I did to experience
college life in Isla Vista to the fullest; and unlike most people my age, I found him to have some
intelligence and substance. The two of us walked out to Del Playa Street in Isla Vista a few times, the
place where all the parties happen, but nothing ever came of it. I still felt like an outcast, even though I
had a friend with me; and I still felt inferior compared to all of those guys who walked around with
beautiful girls.
On September 5th, I was finally able to move into my new permanent apartment unit. I felt relieved
that I would never have to deal with the likes of Ryan and Angel ever again, though I did worry that I will
eventually run into them again because my new unit was still in the same apartment complex. Once I
was given the keys, I quickly transported all of my belongings to the new place. I was supposed to have
only one housemate who would live in the other room of the unit, but he hadn’t moved in yet. I had no
idea who my new housemate would be, but I was told that he was an older student who attended the
University. That knowledge made me feel assured that he would be tolerable to live with. He was set to
arrive in two weeks, so I had the place to myself until then.
I unpacked all of my things and set up my new room. Once I was done, I looked at it and thought to
myself that this was it; this was my new living place in the college town of Isla Vista, and if I could finally
have the life I wanted, then this may well be the room where I lose my virginity! How wrong I was. It
would only be another room where I suffer miserable loneliness. No girl will ever step foot in it.
Santa Barbara was not going well for me. I was already months into my twentieth year and I had
nothing to show for it. As I spent the first weeks of September in my new room, all alone, I fully realized
how much I was failing at life. Santa Barbara was supposed to be a place of hope, a place where I could
start a new, happy life. I couldn’t believe how wrong everything was turning out. Instead of finally
getting a chance to live a life of sex and love like other young people did, I only experienced worse
rejection and humiliation than I had ever experienced before. This was unbelievable and unforgivable. If
humanity continued to insult me with such cruelty, then there really was no hope for happiness in my
life.
At Santa Barbara City College, I had exactly the same experience that I had at Moorpark. I had to
watch beautiful young people enjoying their lives together as I languished in loneliness and despair,
because no one accepted me. I dropped my math class – I just couldn’t bear having to be at the college
all day long, sitting in the library watching couples kiss each other. I retained my two morning classes
only because there was still some small inkling of desperate home inside me.
My usual day went as follows: I woke up alone in my bed, with no girl beside me, and did a few
minutes of exercise before I showered and got ready for college; I then drove to Starbucks to have my
morning latte and felt envious whenever I saw a young couple there; I would then attend my two classes
where no one said a word to me, having to endure the torment of watching other guys talking to the
girls I liked; And then I would go home alone, open the door to my lonely room, and feel absolutely
miserable. The loneliness was suffocating. I could barely breathe. If only one pretty girl had at least
given me a chance and tried to get to know me, everything would have turned out differently, but girls
continued to treat me with disdain.
The loneliness was torturing me so intensely that I even started up my WoW account and played the
game constantly for the month of September. James still played WoW, and the two of us played
together online for a few days, but he treated me very coldly the whole time. I could tell that the kind of
friendship we had for so many years no longer existed. That last incident in the Palisades stabbed our
friendship deeply, and it was in the process of bleeding away. At the time, I felt offended by his attitude
towards me, so I called him out on it. This sparked a long argument between us that resulted in James
refusing to talk to me online anymore. A few days after that, I deactivated my account again.
My new housemate arrived in the middle of September. His name was Spencer Horowitz; a short,
chubby UCSB student who was about a year older than me. He seemed like a friendly, mature sort of
person; definitely a pleasant contrast from the housemates I had to suffer through in the previous
month. I didn’t expect to have any problems with him. However, I was a disappointed due to the fact
that I was hoping my new housemate would be someone I could relate to… someone who could be my
friend and help me integrate with the social life in Santa Barbara. I didn’t see Spencer as the type of
person I would become friends with. We could get along, but we had nothing in common.
In addition, I was a bit shocked when Spencer told me that he used to have a girlfriend. It was a
casual comment that came out of a conversation we had. I didn’t understand how a chubby and
unattractive guy like Spencer would have been able to get a girlfriend, while I’ve never had the chance
to. The guy was three inches shorter than me, and even I am considered short for my age. I could not
fathom how such a thing was possible, and I concluded to myself that this former “girlfriend” of his that
he mentioned must have been just as unattractive as he was. There was no need for me to be jealous.
After a few weeks of living with him, I realized that I had a psychological problem with his presence in
my apartment. Even though there was no trouble between us, I hated having someone constantly in my
vicinity to judge how pathetic my life was. I could hide the details of my lonely, celibate life from the rest
of the world, but I could not hide it from Spencer. The fact that I never had any girls over to my room
was clear enough that I was an undesirable outcast, and I hated it when people knew this about me and
judged me for it. Spencer was there to witness it all, and I would eventually come to hate him just
because of that.
During the months of October and November, I made another desperate bid to improve my social life
as best as I could. I failed in making any friends in my two college classes, and I didn’t have any
interactions with girls at my school. I was an invisible ghost, just like I had always been.
I continued to see Andy, the one friend that I made. We often met up to have dinner at a restaurant
somewhere. He soon introduced me to a few friends of his. One of them was named Stan, a European
from Holland whom I particularly got along with. I enjoyed having conversations with Stan about a wide
variety of subjects, including politics, history, business, and architecture. I wisely refrained from
revealing any of my political views, of which disturbed most people.
During the month of October I went out with Andy, Stan, and some of their friends quite often. We
did things like walk around State Street or Isla Vista, or went to the movie theatres together. I soon
found that even having these few acquaintances to hang out with didn’t make me feel any better. I still
felt inferior whenever I saw other guys walking with beautiful girls. At the movie theatres, I felt just as
pathetic about walking in there with a group of friends as I did years ago when I went to the movies with
my parents… It was that pathetic feeling of not having a hot girlfriend on my arm while some other boys
in the theatre did. What I truly wanted… what I truly NEEDED, was a girlfriend. I needed a girl’s love. I
needed to feel worthy as a male. For so long I have felt worthless, and it’s all girls’ fault. No girl wanted
to be my girlfriend.
Halloween weekend in the college town of Isla Vista is a renowned event. Young people pour in from
all over the county to attend the raucous parties there. My experience during this weekend is just what
one would have expected it to be, a miserable disaster.
When I was a child, I used to love Halloween. It was a holiday of fun and excitement where I went
trick-or-treating, going from house to house collecting candy with my friends and family. For young
adults, Halloween is a very different sort of holiday, of which one is supposed to dress up in sexually
explicit costumes, attend wild drinking parties, and have sexual experiences with girls. For other young
people, who are able to do such things, Halloween must be a blast. But I am unable to do such things. I
wasn’t invited to ANY party, and girls don’t want to have sex with me. As a teenager and a young adult,
Halloween has been a holiday of torment and depression because of this. In Isla Vista, this was greatly
intensified.
I tried my best to put myself out there on the Halloween weekend. I made many laps around Isla
Vista, trying to bolster up the courage to talk to a girl or walk into a party, but I just couldn’t. I knew they
would all reject me. What I saw during those walks shook me to the very core. Girls dressed up in
extremely revealing outfits, and the sight of them filled my sex-starved self with hunger and desire that I
knew I could never quench.
On the last night of the Halloween weekend, I went out there with Andy and Stan and a few others. It
made absolutely no difference. We didn’t get into any parties, and just walked around the streets like
losers. Being friends with them wasn’t benefitting me at all.
If only I had a beautiful girlfriend to experience such an event with! I would have even dressed up in a
costume with her. It would have been so blissful and euphoric, to walk around in all of that excitement
with a beautiful girl on my arm, to attend every single party because anyone would admit a beautiful girl
into it, to make passionate love to her in my room at the end of the night, to snuggle next to her sexy
warm body as we drift off to sleep together. THAT is the life I should have lived. So many other guys are
able to experience that, and just thinking about if filled me with extreme agony. Life is not fair.
In November, my brief friendship with Andy, Stan, and their group faded away. I often saw on
Facebook that they did things together without even inviting me, which is the same thing I’ve had to
experience with other groups of friends that I’ve had in the past. I was always an outcast, even among
people I knew. I grew tired of their lack of consideration for me, so I stopped calling them. They weren’t
even popular anyway, and I wasn’t benefitting at all from their friendship. I still continued to meet with
Andy at restaurants on occasion, however.
Every day that I spent at my college, the more inferior and invisible I felt. I felt like such an inferior
mouse whenever I saw guys walking with beautiful girls. I hated having to endure it, but I had already
worked so hard on my two classes that I couldn’t quit just then. The only way that I could gain a boost in
to my self-esteem was to buy better looking clothes.
My mother gave me a few more gift cards to Nordstrom, and I spent them on $200 dollar designer
Jeans. When I wore these to school, I saw that I was wearing better Jeans than most other guys, and
that made me have a slightly