Women Don’t Even Know About Women

I am tired of reading comments from people defending women. Women don’t even know about women.  I began to recall some of my all-time most messed up stories about women.  This is one of them, which is sure to make everyone angry.

I moved to an area that was heavily Scandinavian and Norwegian, thinking nothing of this.  After my self-employed work was completed in the evening, I would go to a local bar on Main Street.   The people in this bar acted different, though I did not know why that was, at the time.

It wasn’t until I started watching the television series about the Vikings on the History Channel years later, that I knew why this was.  These people in this bar acted just like Vikings.   They dressed like Vikings, talked like Vikings, cut their hair like Vikings, had tattoos like Vikings, and they wanted to fight and stab people all the time like Vikings.

The bar owner was a blond lady who was about 28 years old, I will call her Agatha.  Her best friend was Robin.  Robin was dark haired, about 30 years old, 5′-2″, 105  lbs. Robin had the problem of having three alcohol drinks, and then suddenly being overcome by the alcohol, and not being able to stand or walk.

I would sit in the bar, and just like in the Viking television show, the men would come in with some type of idea, scheme, or plot to fight or stab someone.  It was probably not a good idea for me to be in there, but it was kind of interesting.  Every time that I went there, it was like a new episode of the Vikings television show.  One time, a bearded biker named Todd, said to me, “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

I did like Robin, and the drama was entertaining, that is why I went there.  Robin gave me her telephone number.  Before long, there was this lesbian named Crystal, that was going on and on about me stalking Robin, and what a pervert I was.  After all of the Viking women were all quite mad and staring at me, I said, “I’m not calling Robin, Robin is calling me.”, and I handed my telephone to the bar owner Agatha.  Agatha looked at the record of recent calls, and she saw Robin’s phone number, where Robin had been calling me at 1:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m.

Agatha, who was like the Viking Queen, announced, “Oh, O.K. I see Robin’s number.  She’s been calling him, I’m going to have to have a talk with her.  Crystal, from now on, Shut Up.”  Agatha, unlike normal white women, did not put up with stupid bullshit from women, which if allowed to continue, goes on forever.

As time went on, and I was talking to Robin, trying to make friends with her, Agatha became tired of Robin’s coyness, playing me along, and not letting me know one way or the other if she was interested, which if allowed to continue, would have gone on forever.

One evening, Robin had had about three or four alcohol drinks, and she could hardly stand or walk.  Agatha said to me, here, take Robin home.  Robin was Agatha’s best friend, and Agatha was tired of Robin not accepting my interest in her, this had gone on long enough, and Agatha was now giving Robin to me.

I carried Robin out to my truck, and put her in the passenger seat.  I said to Robin, “Do you want to go home, or do you want to go to my house?”  Robin said, “To your house.”  As we were driving to my house, I lived out in the country, Robin said, “You’re not going to kill me are you?”  I replied, “No”.

I was thinking, “Here we go with Robin’s stupid bullshit.  She has got to try to ruin this for me.”  Robin continued, “I suppose it would be O.K. if you were going to kill me, that wouldn’t be so bad I guess, but I have two little children.  Promise me you won’t kill me.”  I replied, “OK”.  She continued, “You promise you won’t kill me?”  I said, “I already told you that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Robin was completely ruining this, which I knew, and she knew, she was trying to do.  She was trying not to laugh, and trying not to smile, but she was barely able to because she thought that this was so funny.  When we got to my house, I said, “Do you want to come in, or do you want to go home?”  Robin said, “I want to go home.”  I said O.K., and made the loop through the driveway to get turned around to go back to town.

All the way back to Robin’s house, she was saying, “I’m going to be in so much trouble, I’m going to be in so much trouble.”  This was because, Robin lived with her disapproving older sister, and her elderly mother.  When we got to Robin’s house, I went and knocked on the door, and I said to her sister, I have Robin in my truck, she had too much to drink, I need to carry her inside.  I carried Robin inside, and I put her down on the sofa.  Robin was saying softly, “I’m in so much trouble, I’m in so much trouble.”

The next day, I imagine that later in the day, Robin had wandered down to the bar and said to Agatha, “Why did you do that to me?”  Agatha would have said, “Then don’t get drunk and pass out in my bar bitch.”  Not very much else would have been said, at that time, because Agatha could not have cared less whether Robin had had sex with me or not.

That day and the days following, Robin was always nice to me, and Agatha always looked out for me.  No one was allowed to stab me in the bar.

Unfortunately, rather than end this story now, I will have to explain this to the people who always complain for the sake of women.

There are women like Agatha, Queen of the Viking women, who see right through the bullshit of women, and do not put up with the bullshit of women.  About a year later, Agatha said to me, “You are too nice to women.  Women don’t like that.  You have got to be meaner to women and treat them like shit.”

There are women like Robin, who I can’t even begin to sum up.  She is small and petite, and the great defenders of women who read these blog posts of mine and write comments, probably think that the police need to be called immediately and that there needs to be an investigation on this.

Robin did not want to go home, she wanted to antagonize me some more, which she thought was very funny.  I thought it was funny too, but it was annoying.  If Robin thought that I was going to hurt her, she would have told her best friend Agatha that she didn’t want to go with me, and if Agatha thought that I would hurt Robin, she would not have had her go with me.

All the things that you think you know about women, all the things that women think they know about women, nobody can say what women will do.

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