As long as you get your food stamps and your welfare check, it feels good, eh?
Says the kid living under his parent's roof who is unable to hold down a job. I bet you'd feel different if you'd grown up in a state-funded orphanage.
The sad thing is, Atlas, if you go off to college, you are going to get so much poon for being some rebellious little libertard fuck. College girls eat that shit up, and that combined with low self esteem will have a whole line of chicks-that-are-way-too-hot-for-you ready to try out this 'different' guy. You'll fall in love with every single one of them, and ultimately, it leaves you feeling empty and dead inside. Unfortunately, a good majority of the knowledge and stances you held so dear will be chipped away by the real world, leaving you a changed man.
Being unable to admit defeat, you push on, burying your head in the sand and beating yourself against the wall of establishment. You meet a trust fund punk in her late twenties after a four year dry spell, and she get's rid of her nose ring and pink mohawk for you and blows your fucking mind. All those fumbley college girls with no self esteem, trying to impress you with their willingness to degrade themselves for you, could not compare to Alice. Child of two wealthy lawyers, she had gone to art school then Yale but dropped out after three semesters because 'they were all poseurs', then proceeded to abuse meth and hop freight trains around the US. Sure her parents wanted to cut her off, but it would worry them so, not knowing if Alice had enough for a hotel, dinner and cocktails each night...they sure didn't want to be known around town for being of the parents of 'that methed out girl who was kidnapped and raped and murdered and dumped alongside a freeway', so the money kept flowing.
That allows the two of you to get a nice apartment in Manhattan, the happening place where you've always dreamed of making it big. You get a job interning for a financial firm, only to come home after your fourth day of work to find Alice in bed, recipient of a three-pronged attack. You, heartbroken, swear off women and revert to a high-school state, flaking out on your obligations and shouting Ayn Rand quotes at any one who will listen, hanging out at the public library 'researching' while you are not sleeping in your car or masturbating in gas station bathrooms.
Then one day it happens; Annika walks into your life. Tall, blonde, statuesque...and she happened to come in just one day after your weekly truck-stop shower and laundromat run...that bitch Alice changed the locks and wouldn't give you your clothes or LPs back. You eye her from behind a Henry David Thoreau book that you lift from the table to expose the cover of, she smiles at you. And gets a copy of Atlas Shrugged. And sits down next to you and exclaims that she's not sure she'll ever
understand this book. At first, you are wary; worried that she is a very expensive prostitute taking part in some cruel joke Alice engineered...that haughty cunt would do something of the sort...but as you talk, you slowly let your guard down. You make plans to have dinner that weekend, leaving you three days to panhandle enough to hit Goodwill, get some clothes, shower, and prepare your game plan. When Friday rolls around, you go to meet Annika at a restaurant she suggests. You've never had thai food, and you worry that something in it will make you break out in hives...that would be a quick way to ruin a date. Everything goes perfectly, and you decide that you'll play the gentleman card and not try and bang her on the first date. It goes well, and you to continue to see each other frequently. She blows you away in bed, and even lets you bang her without a rubber. On your four month anniversary, you show up to dinner with flowers and wine, she shows up, eats, and then tells you she is a prostitute hired by Alice. You knew it was too good to be true.
Flash forward; forty-three, twice-divorced (but seeing the nice chubby woman from two cubicles over for some weekly hotel action, even though she's married), making decent money as a board-certified accountant for a well-to-do law firm, living in the suburbs in a house you don't know how to maintain, worried about your son coming to visit next week (he's 16 and fabulous, and you don't really know how to interact with him), driving the future version of a Prius...and bitching about taxes and entitlement programs.
TL;DR - I am pretty bored right now.