
Originally Posted by
Deadpool
(Surveying the crowd)
Alright, you magnificent bastards, settle the fuck down. I've been thinking about relationships lately. Or, more accurately, the absolute, unmitigated, festering clusterfuck they've devolved into. And yeah, I mean "fuck." Because sometimes, folks, the only word that truly encapsulates the cosmic absurdity of our existence is a good, hard "fuck."
(A slow, deliberate pace across the stage, a hand gesturing dismissively)
Used to be simple, right? Caveman grunts, a club, maybe a shared woolly mammoth steak. Boy meets girl. Boy says, "You got big, strong shoulders, good for carrying my fucking firewood." Girl says, "You look like you can outrun a goddamn saber-toothed tiger, so I'm less likely to get eaten by some prehistoric asshole." Boom. Babies. Gene pool. Done. No fucking dating apps. No goddamn "emotional labor" charts. Just survival and a vaguely consenting grunt.
(maybe winking at the camera or pointing at an imaginary audience member)
Now? Now, it's like we've all been handed a user manual written by a committee of self-help gurus high on kale smoothies, TikTok influencers sniffing their own farts, and a particularly aggressive HR department with a vendetta against genuine human connection. And none of the goddamn pages match! Hey, you in the front row, with the slightly panicked look, you just got out of a relationship where you were told you were both "too emotionally constipated" and "too much of a clingy fuck-up." Didn't you? Don't lie to me. My fourth wall senses are tingling.
Let's talk about the women first. Bless their complicated, beautiful, often infuriating souls. They want a man who's...
(counts on fingers, exaggerating the ridiculousness)
...a sensitive, emotionally available rock. Who can openly weep at a goddamn ASPCA commercial, but also instantly fix a blown fuse while simultaneously closing a multi-million dollar corporate takeover. He's gotta be a feminist ally, but also open doors and pay for dinner without being asked, because apparently, gender equality only applies to the check. He needs to be a confident alpha, but not a dominating asshole. A hilarious conversationalist, but also a stoic listener who never interrupts. Oh, and he has to look like a goddamn Abercrombie model who somehow also doesn't spend too much time in the gym, because that's "vain."
(Shakes head slowly, muttering)
It's like they're looking for a fucking unicorn that also bakes artisanal sourdough and can bench-press a Honda.
And you know what? We try! We actually fucking try! We're out here watching goddamn Rom-Coms for "emotional intelligence" tips, doing squats until our ass looks like a Pixar character's, just so we can reach the top shelf and look good doing it, and trying to figure out if holding a door open is "chivalrous" or "a subtle form of patriarchal micro-aggression." It's a goddamn minefield out there, folks! A gender-specific minefield where the mines are made of impossible, unspoken expectations and a complete lack of common fucking sense!
But hold on, fellas. Wipe that smug look off your faces. We are not innocent in this shit-show. Let's talk about what some men are looking for.
They want a woman who's naturally stunning, but totally "low maintenance." Like, she wakes up looking like a Victoria's Secret model who just rolled out of a dumpster, and then proceeds to do zero hair, zero makeup, and still be perfect. She's gotta be an independent, fire-breathing powerhouse with her own career, but also willing to drop everything to nurture his fragile ego and cook him a fucking steak after his "hard day at the office" which mostly consisted of arguing with strangers on Twitter.
Oh, and she needs to be a goddamn tiger in the sheets, but a nun in the streets. Because apparently, the ideal woman is a Venn diagram where one circle is "unbridled sexual passion that only exists for my pleasure" and the other is "absolutely no sexual history whatsoever." Good fucking luck with that, you clueless bastards. You're trying to find someone who's both a librarian and a firecracker, but only on your goddamn schedule.
It's ridiculous! It's absolutely fucking ludicrous! We've taken the most fundamental human drive – connection, procreation, the very thing that keeps our stupid species going – and we've loaded it down with so much impossible baggage, so much self-help jargon, so many curated social media ideals, that it's become...
...unsustainable. A complete and utter fuck-up.
And you know what the REAL fucked up part is? We're all in this goddamn lifeboat together, sinking slower than a snail on tranquilizers, bailing water with a goddamn colander, while screaming at each other about who's not holding their bucket right! It's like watching a real-life reality show where everyone loses!
So yeah. I've thought about it. I've considered the future. The declining birth rates. The endless, exhausting chaos. The sheer futility of it all. And I've come to a conclusion.
No amount of supernaturally good sex... is worth that kind of co-parenting bullshit.
(shoots himself in the head immortally)