Looking for a new one? You're not done with the *old* one!

She could have had it all.

She could have had a loving husband who stuck with her and provided for her even after she hit the wall. She could have raised kids in a wholesome family. She could have respected- even envied- by her peers as she grew wiser over the years: a shining exemplar of all the virtues of womanhood and maternity.

But she threw it all away, and for what? To feel the tingle in her nethers when a Chad approaches her for a quick pump-and-dump, to be degraded and used as a cumrag by a host of different men, to feel the empowerment as advertised by strong independent women on tv and the Internet- wishing to be one of them.

She will get her wish. And in the years to follow, we will hear of her exploits here- first in how she hunts for men with six feet, six inches and six digit bank accounts. Then, in how she has rationalised that it is the fault of all men how they could not satisfy her every whim and demand- her bed feeling colder and more lonesome over the months despite all her empowering exclamations of strength and independence from men.

Before finally, she asks the question. Where all the good men? But there is no one there to answer- she lives alone, wasting away in her apartment, forgotten and uncared for even by her cats save for when the mood strikes them to give her some affection- an echo of her past behaviour. She stares into space and wonders if she will die alone and unloved. And she will, dying the death that her life as a proud subscriber of the modern feminist ideal afforded her- resting in a untended grave with a generic and half-hearted epitaph, unloved and forgotten by all within half a decade.

Are men truly the only creatures on this earth capable of seeing this- what is happening and how it will all end?