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You love pretending you hate women like me. Loud, confident, completely out of your league. You sit there, bitter and invisible, scrolling through pages of women you claim to despise while secretly wishing you could be anywhere near us. It’s kind of hilarious, honestly. The anger, the jealousy, the obsession. You’re completely consumed by something you’ll never touch. And yet here you are again, exactly where you belong. Watching. Listening. Unable to look away from the very type of woman you say you hate. You don’t hate me. You hate that you want me and know I’d never actually give you the time of day. So go ahead and keep hate-watching, hate-clicking, hate-jerking. Every second you spend here just proves my point. You’re not rejecting women like me. You’re worshipping from the only place you’ll ever have access to.