I add at least as much stress as I relieve; I’m not an emotional day-spa, after all. There’s a kind of comfort in the meaning and purpose I bring to the meandering, directionless life of a cunt, but there’s struggle, too. Lots of struggle, and suffering. And laughter, when the struggling and suffering looks particularly cute.
With the wrong girl, sure, it’d just be monotonous bullshit. That’s one of the reasons that I take my time getting to know them… I’m in no rush to get my hands so comprehensively dirty.
But with the right girl, when I trust her completely…? I’m only a humble puppeteer, but I do enjoy my craft.