Every day, men and women do horrible things to one another that cause generalizations which lead to more horrible treatment. Sexual relations in the western world consist of a constant struggle against a downward spiral.

Take for example the lovely Diane, shown here. Diane has a great set of pipes on her (I mean her voice, her chest is merely adequate), a nice smile, and a generally positive disposition. Yet, through her own obliviousness, has frustrated and infuriated two of the guys she hangs out with all the time. They, I assure you, will take out their frustrations on some unwitting victim. It's the way of things.

Guy number one, let's call him Jack (Jack and Diane, I kill me) has liked Diane for a while. He's been nice to her. Flirted with her. Bought her drinks. Made sure she got home safely. Yes, you can predict this one, as surely as Vertical Horizon sang it, "he's everything you want, he's everything you need, he's everything inside of you that you wish you could be, he says all the right things at exactly the right times, but he means nothing to you and you don't know why."

Guy number two, for the sake of not embarrasing my friends (Diane is just somebody I know, she can go to hell, more on that in a bit), let's call him Sam (Sam and Diane, from Cheers, I'm on a roll here). Sam is a real sweetheart, I tell ya. Makes a ton of money. Is endlessly devoted and wants to be fairly serious with a woman. He's divorced, and near as I can tell, his ex wife did something really horrible to him, since his self-esteem's in the crapper. Anyhoo, Diane sits on his lap a few weeks ago, and starts flirting heavily with him, so he thinks he's got a shot. She then just as quickly changes direction, gives him those "friend hugs" with no torso contact, and walks past him like furniture. "Just another case about the wrong path ..."

Diane is actually interested in a guy who's not part of our regular running group, a guy who (from all indications) is not the nicest to women he dates, and probably not the biggest on fidelity. Yet he enthralls her diminutive consciousness. Look familiar?

I will admit that Diane drinks. A lot. I mean, every time I've been out and she's been around, she's been either four sheets to the wind or just pulling some of them out of the laundry. Plus, near as I can tell, she's not the sharpest knife in the drawer. So, does she deserve the bad things that will inevitably happen to her? Do any of us?

"Hannibal, you're such a pessimist, what if she turns that guy around into a real lovable lug and they live happily ever after?" To that I say, "stop watching so much 7th Heaven, you're rotting your brain."

This past Monday, Diane, Sam, Jack and several of our other mutually doomed acquaintances were at Boardwalk 11 near Motor and National, having a blast. On Monday nights, there's nobody there, so a guy like me can easily sing 4,700 songs or so. Diane (and Mandy, who we'll get into) got predictably drunk. So drunk, in fact, that she ended up trying stripper pole tricks in the rain outside the club after closing.

The diminutive and well-meaning Ylana, who guided us all to this club, asks me to make sure Diane is all right to drive. I say "F**k no." Ylana wonders why. I remind Ylana that nobody there is gonna give me any ass that evening, so as long as they don't wreck my car, their fates are in their own hands. These are grown assed people (in years, if not in maturity) and I have enough on my plate without worrying about the safety of people I only marginally like.

Several people did ask Diane if she was all right, and she insisted she was (she didn't look like it to me, but again, she lives in the opposite direction from me, so what do I care?) until finally, drunk and frustrated, she threw her keys to the ground and stormed off. Strangely, she immediately retrieved her keys and, without a word to anyone, drove into the night.

Nobody has called me to say she's dead, but I haven't exactly checked. I have a point, and I'll get to it soon.

Also there was Mandy. Mandy, a Latina/Native American/Asian mix, is a professional stripper who actually has a half-decent voice (one of her favorites to sing is Ashanti's "Foolish"). She and Sam have known each other, from the karaoke circuit, for some time.

Anyhoo, Sam is a member of an exclusive Northside club. It's something that's very important to him and seems to make him happy. They're having a big to-do at the club, and he was given a limited amount of hotly-contested passes. He, of course, invites his "friend" (and I use the term loosely here, we'll get back to that). She enthusiastically accepts. This is weeks ago.

The same Monday night, Mandy mentions to Sam that she "may" make it to his big event. It's coming up rather soon. Angry and feeling betrayed, he calls it an early night and leaves (sadly, missing the stripper pole action).

A few nights before, he'd said to Mandy and Diane at one of our late-night "breakfasts" after a night of carousing, that they always made all these noises about wanting to be with nice guys, but all they ever went after were drunkards, cheaters, and that sort of ne'er-do-well. Neither had an answer.

I've told Sam that these people aren't his friends. He can talk to them on the phone, they will stand near him or hug him at places they're at together, but that's it. Friends, as I keep telling Sam, will go the extra mile for you. Bail money. Helping you move. Listening to you cry over how one of those "friends" dissed you, again.

The refreshing part for me is the freedom of indifference. When a guy stops caring what a girl thinks of him, or whether or not she'll hand over that sweet, sweet booty, he acquires an amazing ability to deflect her BS and laugh in the face of her suffering. I'm cool with Diane and Mandy (I again prove that nobody I actually hang out with reads my site by telling all this and knowing they'll never ask me about it), but I'm not chasing them skins, and I'm not affected by their drama. Would that Sam and Jack, forlorn and lovelorn patsies that they are, had that freedom.

This is all to reiterate my belief that gender relations in the western world are collosally f**ked. That's all I have to say about that.