The human mind is a fascinating thing but once you start lying to yourself, it’s a short drive to insanity on a roundabout road called Recursion. Toddlers just want to have fun without consequences, enjoy life without responsibility and have sex without strings attached. The last of the three is hardly a crime but in trying to frame it as such, women turn men into cads. Liability limited. Responsibility denied.
If you’re sure, you’re sure. He sounds pretty sure. I'm sure we've all know a few people who are certain they're not culpable, having made up their mind long before they manage to convince themselves of the lie. People rewrite history in near real time.
“I can't believe I'm doing this. I literally never do this.”
In a world of obligation imposed onto men by girls who just wanna have fun (so they shrewdly withhold sex to repackage it for sale, albeit spiked with lies and love), guys who just wanna have fun are made out to be scoundrels of the worst possible kind. Across large tracts of this religious world, not wanting to be blinded by whore love is tantamount to a crime. But until you've been on the receiving end of a whore’s piety, you can't be expected to understand the nature of the slime. Until you experience the disgust and contempt of a woman who only wants True Love - Real Love - just like the fairy tale lies (one man, one woman, every girl deserves that at least once in her life) - and holds you in contempt for wasting her impossibly valuable time for not wanting to be blind, you just won’t get it.
No one deserves to be blind. If it were up to me, I'd open all your fucking eyes. And kill anyone who didn't want to see reality. I was called a womaniser by this girl who wanted to blind me. She was disgusted but if you think about it, that’s a strange word. Who does a womaniser consort with? I asked the maniser how men could be philanderers without women being party to the ‘crime’ but she wouldn't be drawn into answering questions like that.
The truth isn't all that relevant to a Toddler whore running out of time to - catch - Mr Right. The truth is, I knew she'd be keen but I didn't see the intensity of her disappointment coming. We'd seen each other once before, five or six years prior; just a momentary glance across a crowded room and that was it. I next saw her face on a dating site and instantly recognised her; she was a little older, a little bolder, but she still had a face that will get any man kidney-punched by his girlfriend or wife.
Women hate competition almost as much as they hate exclusivity. Every woman knows that every other woman wants to steal her guy, but sure if you want to believe they’re imagining the threat they represent to other guys' wives, that's fine. Whatever helps you sleep at night. And buddy, don't lose sleep over the fact she still wears makeup to make herself feel good. It’s not about being more sexually attractive to other men. A little trust, come on. Don't be paranoid. After all, you're married to each other, right? You're bound by those invisible ties. You got a ring? There you go. That visible symbol should lock her to your faithful side. So what if she puts on makeup? It's what she needs to feel good.
Say that a few times out loud, till the penny drops. It’s what she needs to feel good. Even you can connect these dots. She needs makeup to feel good. If you can't see the truth, you're blind. She needs makeup or she won't feel good.
Dot - dot - dot. You're not good enough. I'm four billion percent sure.
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I’d seen this girl once, five years prior. She was one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen. I’d tried to sleep with her half a dozen times over the next few weeks and it should have been easy, or at least I thought it would be. She was in a fishbowl with a number on her sleeve, how hard could it fucking be? Pretty hard, as it turned out. Impossible, for me. It just wasn't to be. I couldn't compete with men who probably didn't have as much money but they had all the time in the world, and I couldn't buy my way to the front of that line. That's right, I was unable - and not for want of cash or trying - to buy sex with the prostitute. This is the world we live in. I take it you guys are cool with it but what I don't understand is why?
Did I say "prostitute"? Correction. I meant "masseuse". I couldn't buy sex with the masseuse, who wasn't selling sex because prostitution is illegal in Bangkok, naturally. Ha hah. In the world’s brothel, where 1.1 million girls work on their backs for pimps who are all named “Mom”, having sex for money is a crime. It’s against the law. You can't do it. It's more than merely immoral. Society has deemed it to be an offence punishable by restricted liberty. Selling sex is a threat to Polite Society. It’s just not Right. Bar girls are stigmatised and if you want to know why, it's about economics. Sex for an agreed-upon price? It's too cheap. That’s why prostitution is a crime.
Sex for money is too cheap. Sex for love is fine. Those girls who only sleep with emotionally vulnerable men are respectable because they don't want your money. They'd be offended by the suggestion. They're not prostitutes, how dare you! In Whore Society, sluts and hookers are shamed for giving it up or selling it for a fixed price. They're a threat to whores, who need men to be driven insane enough to lose their minds. Whores only sleep with the loving Blind.
I was ready to blind myself for this girl but I never stood a chance. I offered double, triple, 5x, 10x the listed price. The mama-san just laughed and shook her head. Some lines you can’t buy into, I guess. I offered bribes and although she laughed less, she again shook her head. Regretfully declined. I looked at the men all fidgeting, killing time, patiently awaiting their turn to pay for sex. We’ve been reduced pretty low, one realises at times. At least we're not fighting over girls, right? Not all of us. Not all the time.
I know we're not raping girls or at least, I know girls aren't afraid of rape, that’s for sure. Sure it’s what they say but I tell you what, if I was afraid of being raped by dudes with hardons they can't control, a serious threat if one buys into the feminist marketing ploy, I would not - I repeat, not - twerk in front of them or sashay past them or otherwise seek to arouse their ardour. Call me crazy, but this seems like very simple logic to me. If I was doing that, I would need to be sectioned for my sake. Would you blame the victim there?
Who’s the victim? The provocateur or the retaliator?
I have never provoked a girl to rape me but girls imagine “No” meaning “No” to be “Yes, but you have to deceive me.”
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Girls aren’t afraid of rape. I know because they won’t stop raping me. This is reality. Girls must love rape because I've seen how guys get with girls who are saying “No” and obviously mean “Yes”. Well, if they meant “No”, they should probably laugh less? Some guys could get confused. It’s not confusing. No one is confused. I knew they meant “Yes”, but on sheer principle I treated every “No” as “No”. And I slept alone for six years because in this world, he who rapes wins.
But then if you want to be raped, is it rape or just consensual sex? For example, this girl who was giving me a lecture in disgust because I was honest and didn’t play along with her demented intent to enslave me with a lifetime of obligation; that girl could rape me any time she liked. And that is what rape is like for girls, with every other guy. That’s why they’re not afraid of twerking in front of rapists. Only shame keeps girls in line but the problem is the line is out of line. It's a whore line. Whores don’t like girls breaking whore ranks. “Control yourself,” the whores sneer, “have some self-respect.”
In this world of back to front hilarity, respecting yourself = denying yourself. I don’t make the rules but it seems to me self-respect would be telling the whores to go fuck some blind guys. But what do I know. I'm a womaniser. A philanderer. I'm the worst kind of guy. All I want is fun, she yelled in frustration. She wasn't wrong. I was guilty as charged. I laughed at the ludicrous state of this world. Wanting to have fun is a crime. What’s the alternative? I asked her but she wouldn't be drawn into an answer.
She knew what was what and what she wanted was true love. You can sympathise, I certainly did. She was 29. Still drop-dead stunning but rapidly running out of time. She just wanted a guy to love and care for her, to slave and suffer to please her for the rest of her life. I was a disappointment. She'd gotten her hopes up. She'd given herself the idea that I was that kind of guy. A guy who'd want to blind. Five years prior, perhaps. Ten years prior, guaranteed. I’d likely have loved her my entire life.
But at 29, she had a lot of nerve because I can do mathematics. Can you? Let’s do some mathematics. A fishbowl worker in demand like she was sleeps with six guys a day or more. We'll round it down to six and they don’t take weekends or holidays as they’d just be bored. She’s doing what she loves to do or you just have no idea. I only have the faintest idea but the truth is, no one but she would know the true extent of the pressure being applied - from every guy she sleeps with - to let them ‘rescue’ her from where she wants to be. So many losers, of course, but a sample this large is going to have some serious winners...but she turned them all down. That’s how much girls love sex.
Six per day = ~2000 per year. It’s probably more like 20,000 for a 29-year-old in her position but let’s round it down to 10. She’d slept with 10,000 men and I was a womaniser because I didn't want to be her loving slave for the next 60 years of her life. This disgusted her. I disgusted her. She was visibly disgusted. All I wanted was sex. She was furious. I think she wanted me to die.
Her contempt burned across the room. She wouldn't spit on me if I was dying and in a sane world, by her definition, death would probably be too good for me. I’d wasted her impossibly valuable time by not being the victim she'd decided I would be. My time wasn't valuable. She didn't waste my time by being the veteran of 10,000 sexual encounters in the mood for True love. Everything in her universe is all about her. It always has been. You can’t even blame her. But the end result of this disparity created by the whore slut-shaming of girls is that a 29-year-old former prostitute who'd had sex with 10,000 paying customers spat in disgust at my wanting to have fun without hurting anybody.
“Men are pigs. All they think about is sex.”
This is what she said. It’s painfully obvious to her. Every guy she’s ever met wanted to fuck her. Sure, she wanted to fuck them but what she wants isn't important (according to her). Not because she’s considerate but because she’s a Toddler whore who wants men to pay her for doing what she wants. So she never wants anything.
She'll ask you what you want. If you want what she wants, fuck you. Pay her. If you don't want what she wants, fuck you. Stop wasting her time. Passive whores took over the world playing these Toddler tricks on men, so save it Julio.
This is not a lucky world for men. Men don’t give birth. And women are destroying their young imagining they're shrewd to purge their competition. I’m not certain they're as bright as they imagine but what do I know? Toddler whores sure seem miserable creating all that misery but then they won’t stop creating it so it’s hard to know what their deal is. It’s like they just want to destroy themselves because “Fuck you.” That’s why.
Now that would actually make sense.
As she left, she fired one last disgusted insult in my direction.
“You're no better than an animal.”
That may be true but then I'm no worse than an animal. Animals are humane. There are no whores in the animal kingdom. There are no lies. There is no shame. They are superior. Only humans are inhumane and it’s for this reason; girls are shamed by whores and no one is shaming your Mom.
This is a really important story but no one gets it. I don't know why.
I think you're all just blind. Go take your dumb ass place in the line.
Better luck next time.
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