This is something beyond mere bad intentions-people with very little ability have those, not me. The reason I don’t have a girlfriend until today is because I’m too horny. I have a lot of lust, and it isn’t an issue of intent; it’s part of my character that I feel it in excess. It steals the show, taking the spotlight away from moving step by step toward mutual understanding and affection. I end up giving the wrong message by mistake. And my low emotional intelligence makes it seem like lust is the only way I know how to approach a girl. I don’t live by the clock. Sometimes I sleep at eight and wake up at midnight in the middle of winter, and I have no desire to sleep again. That’s normal for me. From my study years to my athletic days to the period of alcoholism, I never cared about a watch. For me, dark is light and light is dark; neither is special. I’m lonely during the day just as much as I am at night. That “love at first sight”-I never saw the girl beyond her eyes, let alone anything below the belt. I was afraid that even looking at her would make her dirty. With the girl in college, I restrained myself whenever she became affectionate because I was scared she would misunderstand me. Maybe that’s why I could never say what I actually felt, and I lost her-and many others later. When I say nobody ever wanted me, I mean I wasn’t good-looking enough for anyone to choose me on that basis alone. A man desires women. That is biological and natural. It is not a flaw in my character, but I treated it as one. In India, women portray themselves as devas-untouched by desire-yet the same woman at night expects a man to ravage her. At my age, I didn’t know the second half of that psychology. I only knew the devi part. If I told a girl that I desired her, it would weaken my claim of being with her. Besides, I don’t think the two girls who tried to hit on me did it successfully, because they only tried to touch me-by accident or by intent, sometimes even forcefully. The only real solution is following my own decisions and desires instead of being manipulated by someone else’s. My questions were unclear; I wasn’t asking the right things. I was beating around the bush, trying to act naïve the way they did. No matter how affectionate I am inside, I have no problem calling myself a randa, a man of lust. I’m stating facts and looking for answers. I don’t chase. One negative reply and you’ll never see my face again. And those girls must have thought at some point over tea: “This motherfucker didn’t persist or insist. We might have even said okay.” Read more from here...