“Whenever I want”

I was sitting by the hotel bar the other night after dinner and an expired hag approached me. Flirtatious in her approach, and overly direct, I was a little taken back by the effort from her part. Given I had literally had my needs met by a much younger, tighter and hotter girl earlier in the day, I had no intention of taking her up on her advances. The expired cougar was from Melbourne, of all places. I killed time and then as I was about to leave back to my room, she mentioned how much she wanted to go back there with me. I made up some generic excuse and she dropped the line which I simply cannot stand.

I can get laid whenever I want

Whenever a girl says this, it turns me off so much.

In this era, any, I mean ANY girl with a smart phone and a vagina can get banged out at a moments notice. The way biology works means that there will be a horde of thirsty guys willing to dump their care free fucks into a wet hole without any commitment. It’s no achievement, so framing it like one just disgusts me to the maximum proportions. I’ve noticed this line is dropped usually by the lower tier girls anyway, expired cougars, chubby skanks, ugly whores, the ones that feel validation from getting banged out. A girl who is actually hot probably won’t feel the need to say this, she can attain the highest quality of man, not just meaningless quantities.

 

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How Long Is Too Long?

How long is too long to stay in the dating market?

The chief reason for the emotional unease and psychological unpredictability of the vast number of contemporary females and to a lesser degree, current males exist in in the unattainable pressure between our antique natural tradition and the relatively fresh development of the technological drifting world of unmatched mate choice we now occupy. 

It would be a certain shock to the majority of current generation beings to passage back in time and observe how humans lived a more tribal existence. Women getting married in their mid-teens and giving birth only a matter of years later were the norm.  There are still some cultures living in this manner as of today. However, the majority of the western population live a contrasting lifestyle whereby family formation is habitually delayed until the mid-30s, if at all.

One significance of this new architype is the ridiculous amount of years consumed in the dating circuit.

Women are intended by nature to begin reproduction in their early to mid-20s.  Their danger of miscarriage or foetal irregularities only seem to increase year on year after that and radically so after the age of 35.  Her body initiates to wear down which affects how much dynamism she can dedicate to raising her spawn.  If she is unable to discover an appropriate mate by her late 20s she will begin to notice that those influential feelings of passion she felt for crushes in her youth, flawlessly formed by evolution to convey a man and woman together to reproduce, now seem subdued and muddled.  This in-turn will sap the dating experience of the finest elements it has going for it – namely, the impulsiveness, the elation, the powerful drive to connect – and leave behind a carcass of the emotion that more closely resembles bargaining over a commercial deal or suffering through a boring interview.  Overthinking substitutes lust.

It is an embittering realization.

Men haven’t been excluded from this change.  In the times gone before us, a man exercised his hard earned-social proofing and material wealth into courting that one special sweet heard over the peak mating years in his lifespan. Before the existence of birth-control, there was an age when the first cherry-popping raw dogged blast inside a woman often lead to conception followed by decades of parenthood. This meant that for men, there was obviously a limit on just how many female sex partners the average man could accrue in a lifetime.  The laborious involvement in winning over and keeping the best quality woman, he could afford and then providing for their kids soon thereafter meant that serial dating was not a typical feature of life.  Dating dozens of diverse women annually and jumping arbitrarily in and out of mini-relationships is a characteristic of modern life for which men are not adjusted to.  The energy obligation is vast.  Men have altered to this demanding cycle of meet-attract-close-keep by either settling and marrying the first girl that would have them or by toughening themselves against the decision of women and learning to play the numbers game.

The Sex and The City lifestyle which adds glamour to playing musical man chairs is a stark contrast to our male ancestors who were often locked out of any future matings when a pickup attempt went crooked and the target or cockblock would run and tell the whole tribe what a loser he is.  Today, the proximity of exes has very little influence on possible future conquests.  For men, this has bought them almost limitless opportunity to get laid.  For women, this has mugged them of one of their most potent weapons in ensuring that only the fittest males get access to their vaginas — the contemptuous ostracization of their sexual rejection.

On the flipside, men have lost assurance in the fidelity of their chosen partners while women have attained an unstigmatized sexual freedom allowing them to play the field until in their eyes, the perfect man finally arrives to sweep them off their feet.

What a time we live in..

The Peak

I was sitting on the New York Metro on my summer trip to America where I overheard two guys talking. One seemed like a corporate professional and the other are more creative type. The conversation was pretty interesting and goes something like this:

Corporate Guy (Guy 1): “It really blows being a young guy going into college these days, it’s implied to them that Gays and Tranny’s are superior, girls are snowflakes and men are just rapists and sperm donors”

Artsy Guy (Guy 2): “I think a young guy being gay is the easy way out, you’re seen as cool and you have so much of a support network built around you to assist you. That’s something no straight guy would get, we are like public enemy number 1”

1: *Laughs* “Instead we are rapists and misogynists!”

2: “It’s a rough deal for any young guy in his late teens, I mean by that age, you’re probably still looking like a boy, not built and haven’t developed your style or charm fully”

1: “Well.. girls at that age have already been riding dick for a few years also so they expect a ton from guys their age which guys simply won’t be able to deliver”

2: “Compare an 18 year old guy to an 18 year old girl, The girl has probably a couple dozen sexual partners and isn’t going to get much hotter than what she is, she’s almost at her peak.  The guy is probably nowhere near as mentally developed about women  as they are about men and has a few years to hone himself into something”

1: “Yeah little wonder why most normal girls prefer guys older than them”

2: “Remember that girl Dom used to bang, she was like 19 or 20, and he was 30, she used to bitch to him about the dudes she met at College and how much they sucked, and then Dom just laid her out and treated her like shit but she just came back for more to avoid being stuck around frat dudes all day”

1: “Having a son at that age would suck, dropping them hard truths on how girls are skanks and not what they seem, it would shatter the kid”

2: “Hah, well I had no one to tell me so…

1: “Isn’t that why you lost your virginity last week? Haha”

2: “Having a mentor or someone to guide you is way better than not knowing at all”

1: “Yeah, that I agree with”

I sat there listening to this while on my trip uptown and was amazed how many bitter truths were spat out on just a regular subway ride. Looks like guys are cluing up, in America of all places.

Creepers

“Creep” is a commonly used word that girls use towards men they are not attracted to.

It’s an everyday occurrence for some men to be labelled “creepy” by desirable women. Recently, I had a reverse experience of this towards a thirsty woman to whom I didn’t find attractive.

I was approached at a busy nightclub in the downtown nightlife area of the city I reside in. I can’t remember what she said but it was very forward, naturally I was a little surprised as she wasn’t bad looking but seemed a little awkward. Her constant questioning, awkward mumbles, unaligned tone in her voice, it just seemed a bit off. We exchanged contact information and I eventually forgot about her over the coming weeks.

Fast forward a month or so, she messages me out of the blue with some random opener about the weekend (As so many guys do with their “restart texts”). At this stage I had actually forgotten how weird she was, I got a few raunchy pics of her after asking and thought to myself “hmm, why had I written this one off again?”.

We agreed to meet, near my pad.

Then as we met at the nearby venue, it came back to me as to why I had pushed the “next” button with this one. The weird questions, creepy conversation topics (stuff like sex with demons, dead bodies etc) just put me off. Anyhow, she made up some excuse to come back to my place (guys do this all the time, I was so wasted by this stage that I forgot what it was). Before we enter my place, she takes a photo of the letterbox, street sign, house number and so on. Again, weird…

She walks around my place and analyses it is some sacred museum. Eventually, we get to action, and she examines my body like I am some kind of patient in a hospital where she is the doctor. I smashed her but I honestly just felt like it was the most regrettable waste of time ever. I would have had more fun reading a book or just doing something else than wasting those few hours with some useless bint nearby even though she spread her legs.

She offered to come over many times in the past but I simply couldn’t bring myself to have that organism around me again.

Given the age of false rape accusations, I decided not to block her but after a while the spontaneous messages out of the blue (eg. stuff like random research articles which have been debunked) just begun to piss me off.

I thought to myself, yeah… I bet girls deal with this a lot more than guys..

Bitter Middle Aged Thirst

As I stand there on the Metro of this massive Asian city, I see this short, middle aged local guy. He is using the camera function on his phone to take photos of this girl on the Metro. He zooms into her legs, takes a photo, then onto her breasts and snaps up another photo. His phone has a special folder which is accessed through a security code and seemed to have hundreds of photos similar to the ones he just took.

I stood there watching this, while he is completely oblivious to my prying eyes. It’s interesting to see this, these so called bitter middle aged guys in Asia are often the thirstiest and most anti-foreigner types around. They will have this fake sense of morality to protect what they claim to be “our” women. The reality is, that given how thirsty and displeasing they are to the modern female, they are eunuchs whom often pay for the act. Their bitterness and thirst reaches extreme levels so it hurts them deep inside seeing how easily foreigners come and nab the easy low hanging fruit that they could never attain when they were younger, let alone now.

They want the same things as every man, pleasure with a nimble, virile broad, but their inability and lack of success pushes them to sabotage those around them. It’s little wonder how lowly they are regarded in the west and how they get no crumbs of sexual activity there. I don’t have one ounce of pity for the hypocrisy that runs through their veins and the degradation they receive worldwide.

Western Female Entitlement Never Stops

It’s funny how entitled Western Females still are when they travel to more traditional societies.

This following article I came across recently from a sub-par looking Western Female whom lived in Japan and couldn’t help but to bitch about the lack of interest she received from men whilst her Western male counterparts enjoyed better success. She struggles to contain her jealousy and simply can’t refuse to take a dig at the expat men in Japan at every given opportunity. It’s rather convenient she forgets how easily Western Women date up in Feminist ridden countries.

“We usually have a tough time keeping female teachers here,” my boss informed me on my first day of work as an English teacher in Tokyo. “They usually don’t last more than six months.” I looked up from studying the roster list of teachers (30 — all male), in surprise.

“You mean at this school?”

“No, I mean … in Japan.” He shrugged. “Tokyo’s a tough city to be single … If you’re, you know … a western woman.”

I stole a quick glance at the photos that were mounted on the wall behind him. Four middle-aged White Dudes. All of them were bearded and balding. All of them resembled the aging, stringy-haired members of the band Metallica. And all of them were pressed up against the model-thin bodies of a heavily made-up Japanese Beauty Queen.

I don’t think I’ll have a problem, I thought.

It wasn’t that I was beauty queen gorgeous. Far from it. Slim, medium-height, with hazel eyes and freckles, I was at best ‘cute’ and at worst, average. But I had something that the competition didn’t: long, naturally curly, blond hair. Furthermore, I was bilingual, well-traveled and college-educated.

But as I realized a few weeks into my stay in Japan, I was also mysteriously, frustratingly invisible.

 

Cute baristas at Starbucks wouldn’t look at me, business men on bicycles ran over me and college students hurriedly backed away from me with mumbled apologies whenever I tried to strike up a conversation about the weather or ask for directions. They wouldn’t even give me the time of day. Literally.

“You’ve got to be assertive,” my Japanese girlfriends advised. “Japanese guys are shy so you have to make the first move.” So I smiled invitingly at men in bars and on busses. I asked for help reading restaurant menus and subway signs.

“Do you have any book / drink reccomendatioins?” was my usual line as I stood near them in bookstores or sat next to them on barstools. But the ‘come hither’ stare or conversation starter doesn’t work if the other person refuses to look at you. If they met my gaze at me at all, it was just to shoot me this panicked look, like I’d just asked them to father my unborn children. My boss had been right. It was hard to be a single, western woman in Japan. But why?

I turned to the Internet for advice and was surprised to learn that the Dateless Western Woman was a familiar character in the expat world, at least judging from the score of postings on expat forums by lonely, single females.

But as wide-spread as the problem seemed to be, it was one that many women avoided talking about. Understandably it was a tough subject to discuss without grossly overgeneralizing fifty percent of a country’s population or worse, sounding like a racist or a man-hating, snob.

The pervading theory though, among expats and Japanese alike, was that Japanese men were in fact attracted to western women but were just too intimidated to do anything about it. Western women in Asia were like the Jennifer Anistons of the expat world. Strong, independent, assertive and outspoken, they were interesting to admire from afar, but no man would ever dream of striking up a conversation with one. Western women were so different, so foreign, they were virtually un-datable.

Not true for their Y-chromosome-carrying expat buddies though. While the female expats spent Saturday nights alone, crying into their Ramen bowls, their male counterparts drank freely from the dating pool like they owned it. Which in a way, they did.

If you’ve ever visited Asia, you’ve likely seen the pale, rail-thin, greasy-haired white boy walking hand-in hand with a perfectly made-up, mini-skirt wearing Asian chick. This would never happen anywhere else in the world. Because everywhere else, Barbie ends up with Ken, not his underemployed, socially-awkward, samurai-sword-collecting neighbor, Kevin. But in Asia, dating rules defy all logic or evolutionary law. In Asia, the nerd is king.

Not that I wished it otherwise. For the most part, I was happy for them. These men wouldn’t have been able to score a date at home if they’d been a calender but in Asia they’d nabbed the prom queen. They were true success stories. Who could blame them for taking advantage of a magical loophole that allowed them to date women out of their league? If such a nirvana existed for Western woman, I’m sure I’d have moved there too.

But although the occasional coupling sparked the “Is she really going out with him?” question, it was easy to understand why Japanese woman saw Western men — even the nerdy ones — as attractive dating prospects. They were straight-forward and open-minded, for one thing. And through their Western, wire-rimmed eyes, they viewed relationships as an equal partnership, which was something the more traditional, close-minded of Japanese men still struggled to do. I figured that so long as they treated their girlfriends well and both partners were happy with the arrangement, what did it matter if their peculiar quirks and bizarre comments got lost in translation a little? Even the socially awkward deserved to love and be loved.

But it was hard not to feel jealous. Especially as I spent weekend after weekend, bravely facing the club’s dance floor alone while my dorky expat brothers expertly flirted for phone numbers and first dates. They were like kids in a candy store. The Japanese women were gourmet truffles, while the western women were the three-year-old tootsie rolls melted to the bottom of the barrel. The Japanese men might have been frightened of us but the other expat men just flat-out ignored us.

But as I often reminded myself, I hadn’t come to Asia for a boyfriend. I’d come because I wanted to master Japanese and explore a culture drastically different from my own. But I just hadn’t expected that moving my life to Japan would mean leaving my love life at home. As much as I’d enjoyed my life in Tokyo, it just didn’t seem like a fair trade.

Not that the female dating situation in Japan wasn’t without the occasional success story. I knew of a few women who’d come to Japan and left with husbands or fiancées in tow. But they were the minority. Most western women came to Japan single and stayed that way.

I was walking from work one Friday evening when it dawned on me that I’d been in Japan for nine months. I inwardly congratulated myself for having beat the odds. I’d proven my boss wrong. But as I trudged home to face another evening of reruns of The Office and left-over sushi from 7-11, I wondered at what cost. Most days I felt unattractive, unwanted and worst of all, unfemale. When not even a short skirt or slinky top attracted more than a passing glance and even construction workers, who could usually be counted on for a leer, regarded me with bored, blank expressions, I felt like a Martian. And very, very alone. Perhaps I’d been wrong not to leave when the last shipload of foreign women sailed away to brighter horizons and better dating odds.

Because the truth is that Tokyo’s a tough city to be single … if you’re, you know, a Western woman.

I was pleased to see that people responded to her accordingly. This comment was spot on:

Wow, what a sexist comment. But it’s not unexpected after this grotesquely sexist read.

“Creepy” is a favorite word of misandrists seeking to delegitimize male sexuality.

How dare this “sub-value” man pursue an attractive woman! He is “creepy”!

Of course the writer of this article is not particularly attractive, and wants a date. (Did you read those pickup strategies?!) Was that creepy? No. That apparently is deserving of sympathy.

But not the male version. That’s “creepy”

Go away, Lauren. Take your sexism back to the West where it can continue to masquerade as feminism.

Glad to see some guys are soyboy herbs sucking it up and feeling sorry for her.

Sink Yourself

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I pulled some skank from yet another random venue the other week and had some interesting realisations.

It was a regular club pull, so obviously my expectations were low besides the superficial expectation of decent looks being met.

Given her attributes, it was obvious to me she had discarded any sense of respect and went down the Instawhoring path of attention seeking. At 19, she had already been spitroasted by two guys, banged multiple men the same day and had a lot of random one nighters. “Empowered” feminists will muster up some garbage as to how shes “exploring” herself in the typical delusion that is evident in their ideology.

However, I felt sorry for this teenager.

As I banged her, her phone throughout the evening just could not stop vibrating. Constant messages, likes, calls, photos. At one moment, her phone lit up right in front of my eye line and displayed a number of notifications.

The view was quite interesting.

Tinder, Facebook Messenger, Instagram, WhatsApp, Skype. All of which had notifications with explicit sexual content from a myriad of guys. I thought to myself how a girl can succumb to such an existence and be happy. The search for attention and “meaning” for a girl eventually leads them down this path of simply resorting to existing as a sexual commodity for a large spectrum of men. It’s sad that women have reduced themselves to this level and I expect the fall to continue. The level of common sense these days amongst young women is honestly dipping to record lows. It was no wonder she complained that no guy would hang around, I mean who would? Knowing that special “snowflake” is constantly sinking herself to please men after men erodes any value left within her. Yet, this basic common sense is now distorted by the cultural Marxism we experience.

A bit of advice..
If you’re idea of success and happiness is having a horde of thirsty guys sending you sexual messages at weird times at the night, you’ll only get pumped and dumped and discarded like yesterdays trash from any guy with standards.

If you long for constant commentary and likes for your bikini clad photo on Instagram, your dopamine addicted brain will never be satisfied with the attention one guy will give you.

And yes, I know, even if you’re a girl that does this, you’ll rationalise the hell out of it and never admit to your shortcomings, which is fine, results and notches speak for themselves.

Small World

Years ago, I was abroad in Eastern Europe and in some bar where I met a student who was studying her Medical degree abroad.

Just the other day, I went to get a minor injury looked at the local hospital, and after I walked in. There was a moment of silence.

Then a greeting in a foreign language different from the country in which we reside in currently.

Following that the removal of the surgical mask which revealed the doctors identity.

It was her, from all those years ago.

7 years later, it all came full circle.

 

 

SJW Haven

SJW’s stay mad. Since some tweets hurt this poor ragey leftists feelings, she felt the need to report it and exercise her SJW puss pass.

as usual, they run, and hide…

 

Notice the subject here having the username “VLine_Official”. It’s rather hypocritical that someone has to strike up implicit associations amongst accounts.

 

Especially when there’s a clear statement in the Twitter profile dispelling any association with The University of Melbourne’s official account.

and like every corporation, institution or public figure.

They bow, and comply..

 

So much for free speech these days, eh?

Update:

So after this failed “reporting” of me, nothing happens.

Actually the Vice-Chancellor of the University Re-Tweets me.

Yet, this kid does not know when to stop..

So I send her a little love after discovering her name which is publicly posted on her Twitter and also her course which is also something she mentions on her Twitter

In response to this…

Ok here’s some Twitter basics, genius.

You have a public Twitter. You posted all your information on there for the world to see. Blocking one account does nothing if you have a public Twitter account cause all one has to do is log out and they can view your public feed.

No, I haven’t and won’t delete a thing, you’re the one trying to get me reported. Which again, won’t result in anything because what I post is totally fine despite it not agreeing with your feminist and equalist brainwashing you’ve been spoonfed.

Yes? And? Are you ashamed or something?

Whose fault is this?

If you’re super careless and going around trying to get people banned you’ll get whats coming for you. “Blocking” someone and running like a coward isn’t going to get you very far. But you study Arts so not like you’ll get far anyway.

 

Nothing Changes

Every time I come back to Melbourne, I have a hope, a hope that things will be lovelier than the last time I was there, a hope that maybe it’ll be more pleasant than when I left it. Sadly however, that glimmer of optimism typically fades, generally after the third or fourth day upon my return, I realise nothing actually transformed. A few shops moved, a few new signs but ultimately, it’s still the same place. People still plugging away at their jobs, paying their taxes, and experiencing that most placid existence available.

In the time I’ve been gone, I went from place to place, learnt useful lessons, and experienced the highest of highs and lowest of lows. But I come back here and simply can’t see myself being another brick in the wall of delusion. I’ve always maintained and continue to believe that Melbourne is Poison for the types that have the slightest hint of creativity or ambition. Besides sitting in traffic, and boasting about Brunch spots, there’s really nothing going on for the place.

The people seem to be soullessly going through the motions, swallowing the nonsense that’s been thrown out by the general media. The skanks are still shamelessly skanking and finding their herbs after they wasted their peak years getting used like a public restroom. The guys are still “manning” up and accepting the leftovers in the sexual marketplace after slaving away on their careers.

Nightlife remains disappointing, shopping seems stagnant, public transport is still ancient. Some people are comfortable being in the safety of their domiciles, but I never could see myself merely existing in Melbourne. The growth and learning opportunities that come when you’re in new environments and exposing yourself to things you simply can’t get in Australia is very rewarding, and I look back at the years that I’ve spent away from here with fondness as I truly believed staying here and continuing down the pre-determined path that was provided to me would have been a waste.

So, I think I’m happy being abroad. Anywhere but here.