Words can not describe my distain for springtime hormonal antics of other people. People are getting married, engaged, in relationships, hooking up, moving in together, and whatever else.

I’m just minding my own business, when someone totally tries to pick me up out of nowhere. What do I do? Politely try to fend them off, as I clearly was not interested. What happend then, I clearly was guilted into giving them my number.

They progressed to send odd sms to me whilst I was trying to nap on my connecting bus, and low and behold they try to play all innocent “oh I didn’t want that, I just wanna hang out” and whatever and I so can not even believe that.

Okay I give them credit for having the nerve to do that, but seriously, I’m not approchable at all so why even bother? Only the desperate would come up to me to chat me up, after all.

I’ve officially renamed February as not the leap month, or the love month, or the fornication month, or whatever the hell you people in society call it. I’m naming it based on it’s sex-mongering, and rejection. It’s been a long three weeks already, and PMS is starting to set it, but not before a plethora of rejections, abandonments, and just plain masculine ineptitude.

I’ve got four more days to fit in some more rejections, and or abandonments. Lets see how many more I can get in there? At present time we are riding on roughly 20. That’s once per day.

What does this make me think? I’m pathetic. U-(

I’m currently feeling an anxiety attack coming on. What can be expected with my current male pms situation? I can’t handle being around people, I can’t handle the things that I’m dealt, and to make it better everyone else around me is having a pleasant time and I’m just me. And all that crap about “being yourself” and “loving yourself” is all bullshit.

Why is it truly that the world is against me and makes me feel even worse than I already do?

The best worst part about it, is that I’ve got nobody around. Which also means that I don’t have anyone to whom I can talk.

Incoming… crying episodes, more anxiety, more panic, and the continuation of my starvation diet.

So for all those that ever doubted that there is such thing as Male PMS please consult other sources that may be of some assitance to you. I will provide you with an article written by Sam Fields regarding this phenomenon. It’s true that men don’t go through the certain aspects of women’s reproductive cycle such as forms of excretions, but if I have to hear one more woman rant off about how men don’t stuff from hormonal imbalances, I’m actually going to physically attack them.

Men, as women, have hormonal balances and often the balances are wack, resulting in irritability, mood swings, stomach cramps, and hot/cold flashes. There is nothing wrong with this, as it’s all the natural process of humans. I will conceed that in fact it’s probably not as painful as vaginal cramps, the suffrage that I endure ever three-to-four weeks is enough to drive the people around me, crazy, and for me to sink into emotional rollercoaster moments.

Male PMS does exist, and get over it girls. I never compared my non-existant vagina with you, nor will I ever, because I clearly stated stomach cramps. Apart from that, this is the end of my rant; although there are a few tangents to be taken from this period of emotional instability.

Firstly, I have been made known some information that frankly I didn’t want to know, and it has appeared to make me more bitter, and resentful towards humanity. Is it really necessary to flaunt certain aspects of one’s personal life in public, especially to whom one knows it bothers. I don’t want to know that one of my best friends recently entered a relationship, because it’s hurtful. Left-right-and-center people are happy, and it makes me bitter and jealous. Sure I should be happy for this said friend, but our relationship is far too complex for me to be able to just be happy for their happiness.

In addition, this homonal imbalance has triggered a return of the anti-man campaign that I seem to wage every few weeks. What will fix this problem – castration! Yes that’s right, watch out, because I’m going to be coming at you with metaphorical machetti’s to emasculate you all; no jokes! There is nothing more pleasing to me mind, than thinking that there is some way to rock someone to the core, specifically a group of people that are completely distant and impossible emotionally. As the queen of hearts said; cut off their heads, but subsitute heads for other reproductive organs, please.

Also, shoutout to Hei∂ar, my super-duper-old Icelandic friend, with whom I’ve been IRC buddies since the beginning of time, aka the emergence of the internet for me; circa 1998. That makes it a decade, mate, rock-on!

On a happier note, Melodifestivalen comes tonight and it’s seemingly going to be good; let’s hope it’s not so dismal as last week’s pathetic attempt at music.

Before you get your knickers in a knot, all the females that are reading this do not take offense to the fact that I’m talking about PMS that affects men. It’s true that men don’t have the horrible things that one calls menstration, but hormones are things that affect all people, male or female.

And so I come to the first day of my monthly Male PMS which I’ve had since I can remember. It usually lasts about three to four days and it happens on a three week cycle I reckon; but in any case it started on Saturday and it was sparked upon weaking up.

I woke up and went to tennis training, came back during the Terry Fox Run, and as a result I felt like shit. Why you ask? Because people were running without shirts, and despite my alright body, it makes me feel self-consious and curse those that passed me. So I walked to Sassy’s and got some binge food to binge on because I felt emo.

The emoness comes with the hormonal imbalance, and I swear… despite my massive lack of testosterone, I sure do have a shitload of hormones flowing through my body. Mood swings quicker than Maritime-weather, that’s pretty damned fast for those non-maritimers, and all around emo-ness. It’s just a recepie for disaster.

In any case the day will move on, and I feel the cramps and the aching already; doesn’t it remind you of female PMS, minus the bleeding? I know it’s eerie, but seroiusly, I get cramps, and emo, and emotional, and bitchy, and hormonal.

Watch out, the bitch is on the loose…