The Beauty of Choice

Have you ever had a tough time getting over a girl?
Maybe, you found out she was a total whore, or her nagging got to irredeemable heights or simply it just wasn’t going anywhere.

This happens to all of us, and time is generally the biggest healer of all.

Recently, I was rather annoyed with a particular casual acquaintance as her previous whoredom came out in the midst of a conversation. Of course, I am happily slamming on the side and not really too committed on her but the fact that this girl takes up some of my spare time means she has to be of a certain level in terms of my personal standards.

So I was rather annoyed when certain things didn’t meet my stern standards. Instead of fret and frow over the details and have sleepless nights over it, my oneitis was avoided due to the fact that there was a similarly attractive girl whom was nearby and accessible.

For those that aren’t aware, oneitis:

Oneitis is a disease of the amygdala that presents as a total incapacitation of the man’s logic, reason and interest in hobbies, hygiene and restful sleep. Oneitis exists in two forms, a precoital and postcoital expression of the virus. The precoital, or “#1 crush”, form occurs when two conditions are met: A girl possesses a precise beauty of the face that closely matches the beauty template the man carries in his head for the perfect woman, and this girl is within the man’s visual and aural field. The postcoital, or “no girl will ever be as good as her”, form occurs when the same conditions are met, with the additional factor that the man has boffed the girl and is now not boffing her.

Now, when you live in a place where the mating market is much more balanced and not so skewed to femcentric liberals, this isn’t too hard, but I can surely imagine how much harder it would be for a man living in toxic anti-masculine societies.

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Skanks Hate Trump

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A lot of people don’t like Trump, but I’ve noticed a pattern in that the people who truly seem to DESPISE him with an obsessive fervor all seem to be aged ex-sluts. Examples among women I know: An old “rock club” slut who used to fuck metal bands passing through town; a former college friend who fucked almost the whole dorm hall and several professors; and the town slut who not only fucked but *dated* her high school bio teacher, then went on to be in countless wet t-shirt contests.

I could give more examples, but these are the most glaring. Why? Because they especially took offense to Trump’s pussy-grabbing comment. That’s right — the very women who were the first to actually get their tits out in their teens and twenties are now indignant in their forties that a man (OMG!) would actually talk about sex. Imagine that. How rude!

There has to be some weird psychological thing going on here. Resentment? Loss of power? Lack of control over the sexual market? All of the above?

I have three theories to explain the psychological motivations of ex-slut hatred of Trump (and by extension, hatred of Trumperica and its people).

  1. Shame. Ex-sluts have to carry the burden of their sluttery and no matter how much they put on a brave grrlpower face, they HATE HATE HATE to be reminded that they joyfully acquiesced to alpha men like a young Trump using their youthful bodies for fleeting pleasures of the flesh and of the peak femininity.

  2. The Wall. Ex-sluts try to ignore The Wall and their inevitable sex and romance-destroying impact with it. As with the shame of their sexual histories, ex-sluts don’t like reminders of their rapidly coalescing sexual (and marital) worthlessness. Trump’s well-known ALPHA MALE ENTITLEMENT in the company of younger hotter tighter women, and his implied DISAVOWAL of spending romantic effort on older women, is a constant needle under the skin of aging beauties for whom Trump is the visual embodiment of every man they secretly desire but can now no longer attract.

  3. Social ostracism. Fact is, if Trumperica is realized in all its feminism-jettisoning, patriarchy-recovering glory, sluts and spinsters will have a hard go of it, especially in the marital market. A nation of beta males energized with a renewed masculinity and healthy male prerogative will feel less inclined to suck up to low value women or, worse, settle for them out of a misplaced sense of lack of options which have heretofore been drilled into their heads by the man-hating shrikegeist. Trumperica means the end of beta male thirst, at least as it is practiced today under the rules of our degenerate matriarchy: in public, with ostentatiousness and self-defeating white knight earnestness. The drying up of the beta male thirst pool will mean, blessedly, less attention lavished on fading cock hop stars by any man but the most desperately indiscriminate blacks. Ex-sluts will feel this social demotion in their bones, and they fight against its arrival — an arrival in the form of Trump and his aesthete army — with a passion they are no longer able to conjure in the bedroom.

No wonder your Facebook feed is filled with hate.

Worldwide Lust

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I stood there at the Shibuya crossing on that cold winter night recollecting the last week or so. It was unforgettable.

I made a challenge to myself, using not one bit of cash how much could I extract from girls? Using emotions, sex and words as the weapons of choice, how far could I take things? So I did it, the same way girls extract resources from men with the exchange of the use of their vagina.

It all started over the Summer. I met a girl in the fashion industry based in Tokyo. Her genetic beauty was easy to notice, her dress-sense and charm added plenty to the complete package. Sadly for her, her mindset was spoilt by living in the toxic wastelands of the West. I knew our mindsets would never totally align so any prospect for it to last was discarded from that point onwards. For me, it was nothing new, just simply going through the motions like a puppet getting its strings pulled. For her, it was as if she’d met someone impressive, with the poise and finesse of a long-term suitor. The manufactured chemistry was real for her she surrendered to it and let the passion take over. In the coming

We locked eyes for a split second, and I had to know more. For me, it was nothing new, just simply going through the motions like a puppet getting its strings pulled. For her, it was as if she’d met someone impressive, with the poise and finesse of a long-term suitor. The manufactured chemistry was real for her she surrendered to it and let the passion take over. In the coming months we linked up in many major cities that our lifestyles had taken us. Sharing pleasurable weekends, lavish hotel rooms and endless memories. Throughout this time, I had my mind set on other things, ideas, and people, however whenever we met, I made it feel as if nothing else mattered. As if the clocks would come off the wall, our phones wouldn’t be switched on, and my attention would appear to be undivided.

Her demeanour changed, her mindset slowly shifted, yet I never had my heart set on anything that would last. A slut is a specimen that can be controlled for a period of time, once the honeymoon period dries, she can easily go back to her old ways. I never see the need to try to convert a slut for the long term, there’s innocent and chaste girls that were never poisoned in the first place that deserve that commitment, not girls that “had their fun”.

As time went past, the level of effort she would put in would continue to exceed whatever little effort I exerted. She would travel to my city, change her schedule to suit mine, spend excessive amounts of $ for things to please me. I realised her level of investment signaled her desire for something more. I’m sure many men would settle for this, and many in the west won’t even experience this. But I simply couldn’t give in to this. Girls come and go, standards remain.

The experience spanned many months, countries, venues and scenes. Ultimately, I’ll be that asshole that didn’t commit in her eyes, she’ll be that girl that tried too hard but lost herself before she even met me. I’ll be in her memories for years to come, with every guy she meets from here on in being compared to me. She’ll be another slut that just got used and thrown out like yesterday’s garbage.

 

Inflated Egos.

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Try to picture this life, except with the sex roles reversed. Every one of your trivial observations or random thoughts gets “upvoted”, literally and metaphorically, by throngs of admirers, mostly female but some male too. Your lauded accomplishments amount to sharing cute puppy pics. Say something stupid? No one will call you out on it. Make a lame joke? Everyone laughs uproariously. Post a drunken photo of yourself? Hundreds of chicks “like this” and cheer in unison, “you go, guy!”. Tell no one in particular that you are sad, and you’re having a bad day? Hundreds more line up to offer uplifting messages of support.

Social network mediums like Facebook and Twitter have contributed to the bloating of the Western female ego by giving her access to the admiration of ARMIES of would-be suitors (the equivalent of a handful of suitors in pre-internet fame times), and to an emotional support system that numbers in the hundreds, even thousands, over the relatively tiny social circle her grandmother was grateful to have in her day.

Today, it is insidiously easy for a woman in her peak attractiveness years to attention whore. If you want to know why so many women so readily whore for attention, the answer is simple: because they can. Cute puppy pic —> cascade of high fives. Who wouldn’t avail themselves of that quick ego fix?

Female hypergamy is real, is different from male “dating up” (which is closer to polygamy in nature), and has consequences in the aggregate on marriage and divorce rates. Women want to look up to higher status men; men want to look *at* beautiful women. In our rapidly de-masculinizing, anti-White male, pro-tankgrrl culture, men are in a status free-fall. Knowing this is all you need to explain why women initiate 70% of divorces.

Only Pursue Something Serious with Younger Girls

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Time and time again I am reminded by this. The older the girl gets, the less desirable she is for anything long term.

Men and women, are as you know different. Life experience does not affect men and women in a congruent manner.

For one sex, experience is a stimulator of growth, a giver of value, and a path to virtue, while in the other sex, experience corrupts and creates embitterment, sadness, cat-hoarding, and decreased virtue

A woman whose experienced many men, many relationships, many sexual partners is of a much lower value to a man who is looking for something more than a pump and dump. She has already traded in the currency of her youth to experience so much with meaningless men, and all those experiences she has accumulated will be compared to all the experiences you provide her. Not a single woman will admit to this, of course not, but it’s simply human nature. The same tingles she felt at 21 won’t be nearly as deep nor moving as the ones she feels at 30. You cannot get excited for the same things once you’ve experienced it so many times. Every human on the planet knows this.

A younger more innocent girl will feel much deeper feelings for you when you do something special, maybe when you take her to a hidden place to experience a city view, or teach her something new. Comparatively, the older, cock-ridden girl will think back to past experiences where she did the exact same thing with other guys, how they made her feel and so on. When you do something a little risky or out of the blue sexually with a younger girl she will feel a thrill that will help her bond with you much closer than the girl whose already had public sex with dozens of lovers. When you go on a trip together with a younger girl, the experience will be so overwhelming and satisfying for her she will have that memory rekindled when she thinks of you. The older woman will remember other trips she took with men, her highs won’t be nowhere near as the peaks she once experienced and probably will look back at the photos of her past trips with lovers.

The older a woman, the more cynical, jaded, distrustful, and sour she becomes. No need to do charity work for these cock-ridden widow types. Why make yourself compared to all her long list of past lovers? Why worry about her past coming back to haunt you? It simply isn’t worth it. Girls ultimately know this, and know that they can’t unfuck all the cock they have taken or undo all their mistakes so instead of admitting to their poor choices or lower sexual market value they will spin some bullshit like “It made me who I am today”, “We all have a past” or “Those experiences made me understand what I really want”, the things you can’t change or alter are the things that people protest the most about.

Put your effort on innocence when looking for something serious. The feeling of knowing that you’re leading her, molding her and so meaningful to her that you’re truly the best man she can get will make your relationship, sex life and happiness experience new peaks.

A Moment to Reflect

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I was sitting in my hotel lounge, overlooking the river in a small city which you’ve probably never heard of.

As I sat there gazing at the stars after dinner, I thought about how quickly 2016 is ending. I wondered if I made the most of it.

This seed of thought was planted into my head earlier on in the week where I caught up with some friends whom I had not seen since the beginning of the year, we went over the things we got up to in the last 11 months. We talked about our travels, income, experiences and of course, girls. To me, they sounded like they had great years, they banged some very good quality girls through exotic locations throughout the world and in their view, I sounded like I had a fantastic year, also smashed a ton but managed to find some quality girls to enjoy good moments with. But the grass is always greener after all.

It got me thinking about a few experiences with girls which were rather interesting. These all spanned different periods in the last few years, but the conclusion remained the same.

I always found girls that had a true purpose to be the most fulfilling. 

The ones that really had an aim and goals, and were doing things that lead them to succeed were in my eyes rather alluring. I’m not talking in the sense of careerist skanks that slaved it out in the office whilst spending their weekends riding random cock. I’m talking about the ones that became something meaningful, maybe a doctor, a vet, an economist or an academic.

Time and time again, I think back to the ones that didn’t focus too heavily on molding to the early 20’s stereotype of sloring through school and hitting up a job and playing musical man chairs with every guy that turned her on. The sweetest and more feminine ones I have met actually enjoyed their studies with passions and interests which gave others and themselves a sense of happiness.

The aimless sluts skipping through a generic degree. Then finding an office job which pays decently whilst dating multiple guys simultaneously, and updating their Instagram account regularly are the ones I have banged with much ease but they offered no sense of accomplishment for me anymore, just a fleeting moment of pleasure followed by calculated plots to discard them.

However, the ones that didn’t corrupt themselves, maintained solid values, focused their energy to be the best version of themselves, these were the ones that rubbed their positivity upon me. They graced me with a warmth that no slut; no matter how well they pleased me physically; could ever produce.

 

 

 

Reverse Racism?

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I used to feel bad when I see FOBs and other minorities being on the receiving end of racism in Australia.

However, after living abroad now for a few years, my sympathy for them has dwindled to something close to non-existent.

Why was this so?

Well.. lets see, in places like Asia, you will stand out in a homogenous population. People will refer to you as foreigner in their native tongue, people will make jokes against you in their language, they

  • People will refer to you as a “foreigner” in their native tongue which isn’t a bad thing, but your identity will revolve around this regardless of if you stay in a place 1 year or 30 years. You might be fluent in their language but still, you’ll never truly belong.
  • People will make jokes regarding you in their native language, some of which will be rather harsh.
  • People will use the biased media, authorities against you to absolve themselves of any guilt in any contentious situations.
  • Any type of relationship you enter with a female, you will stand out in public places with constant staring and snark remarks which will attempt to degrade your partners value (This only applies if she’s hot). The local jealousy is strong when a hot chick is dating a foreigner in most countries. In order to supplicate their own failures with hot girls, they attempt to push down the girls value. However on the upside, if you have your shit together, you will be regularly pulling hot girls that wouldn’t even consider for a second to open their legs for the average local guy.
  • The above point also regularly leads to fights, and yeah since Aussies would probably beat most of these guys to an inch of their life one-on-one it’s usually a ten-on-one fight in Asia. This is what “Fair” means to them.
  • Authorities simply will not give a fuck about you. Police won’t care if you’ve been robbed, beaten up, scammed etc. Anything bad that happens to you, then, well you may as well be on your own. Because that’s how you will feel.
  • You will be denied employment opportunities purely based on your appearance. (Note: It’s very common for CV’s to require a photo in some parts of the world)
  • The media will shame you for the smallest thing, you could easily make the news for something that occurs daily amongst locals of that country. Eg. an argument with a partner, a small car accident etc.
  • Every day you’ll say where you’re from, what you do, how long you’ve lived there.
  • You will be scammed, cheated, and exploited at almost every opportunity from the local underclass.

As you can see, non-Australians have it pretty good in Australia. A lot of these issues are either non-existent or rare in Australia.

So if you aren’t a leftist loser that cried when Hilary flopped, then don’t feel bad at all, let them have it, cause they sure aren’t going to do you any favours if you were on their turf.

 

#MAGA

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I can’t deny I enjoyed the salty tears of bitter leftists, feminists, socialists and other pro-Hillary support groups as Trump won the US election.

I was walking out of a building earlier today and noticed an American friends’ wife bawling her eyes out in broad daylight on the street. I asked her what’s wrong? She responded with “Trump won!”. Take note that this woman is a diehard SJW who supports every liberal cause under the sun. I faked a brief conversation which demonstrated how much I cared for her “doomed” country’s future whilst managing to hold back the sheer delight of Hillary’s loss.

I must say, it’s also enjoyable seeing the establishment controlled media continually misinforming the general public with deceptive poll predictions. I don’t think any major media outlet had Trump as the expected winner, some even mentioning how “embarrassing” Trumps “inevitable defeat” would be. But as every raging liberal on social media continued their undying leftist support, the polls showed that people really are against the establishment when it really counts. Enjoy whinging.

 

The University of Melbourne Copyright Team

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I woke up this morning with the following message in my inbox.

To Whom it may concern,

Please immediately and permanently remove or disable access to the University of Melbourne logo

The University of Melbourne logo was copied onto your servers without permission and is being used in preview links for the offending website as well as the favicon. The unauthorized and infringing copy can be found at: https://melbuniblog.com/ The source url of the relevant images infringing on our copyright are:<LINK>

I may be contacted at the address, email and phone number listed above.

I have a good faith belief that use of the material in the manner complained of is not authorized by the copyright owner, its agent, or the law. Under penalty of perjury, I am authorized to act on behalf of the owner of an exclusive right that is allegedly infringed The information in this notification is accurate. I understand that, pursuant to 17 U.S.C. § 512(f), any person who knowingly materially misrepresents that material or activity is infringing may be liable for damages, including costs and attorneys’ fees.

Thank you

Helen Louise Thomson.

Helen Thomson | Manager Copyright Office

University Copyright Office

University Services

4th Floor Baillieu Library

Parkville, Victoria 3010 Australia

T +61 3 8344 4638 M +61 0423 817 558

E helenlt@unimelb.edu.au | W http://www.unimelb.edu.au/copyright

Good to see how efficient the university is. It only took almost 5 years until I started this blog to get in touch.

Oh, and I did indeed change the logos to meet their humble demands.

Flashback: Glorious Gloria

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It must be said, these days I rarely post about “that one girl” anymore, maybe after running through so many the so called “pretty diamonds” these girls were are just nothing special anymore. But the following was something that happened just recently that made me think of a more naive time in my life where I was much more of a romantic.

It all started last week when I was overhearing a conversation that these two University students were having on the subway which described memorable girls they had been with.

Due to some indescribable reason which I couldn’t pinpoint, this suddenly made me think of a rather notable companion from quite some time ago. Let’s just call her Gloria.

Gloria and I met in my second year of uni. She was one year behind and I would have to say given how much effort she put into dressing up, it didn’t take much for me to notice her.

Things all started between us in a group assignment for a dreaded 2nd year pre-requisite Commerce subject that most of us despised. She somehow managed to end up in my assignment group as she was absent for the class where we decided to pick our team members.

The first time she turned up to class, she sat next to me, and asked if we covered anything meaningful in the previous lesson. “Hmm.. no, the only thing we really did was pick the groups for the big assignment” I said. This sent her on a slight panic attack as she wondered what she was going to do. As it turned out, the tutor assigned her to my team. We didn’t talk much during the class but her deep stares were rather fascinating to the then 19-year old version of myself.

At the end of that class, I had a 2-hour gap to kill, and it turns out she did too. “So, anything you can recommend besides eating to kill time until 2pm?” I asked more in hope than expectation. “Hmm, I’m actually going to go eat too and then I’m not sure”. We both agreed to have lunch assuming it would be a nice way to kill time.

As we walked around the city, looking for something to eat, we talked about the usual interests such as hobbies, music and movies. It came out how much she liked to joke around with parodies pulled. of infomercials, something which I loved mocking, especially the accents of the hosts. We talked about all the lame infomercials that came up over the years, like BowFlex and Abtronic. She would laugh and I would carry on with my impersonations for another second before bursting into laughter too. Her laugh was loud and happy sounding. It was contagious and made everyone else laugh along until we had no idea what was funny to begin with.

As it turned out, we both had this same break every week, and given how well we got along we continued the weekly ritual. Over the coming weeks we both realised how similarly we saw things, and beyond the physical attraction there was a mutual respect which I have to say, these days I find much harder to come across. The naïve innocence of youth is always rather marvellous in hindsight.

Gloria and I had many conversations about how great single life was in uni and all the spare time we have being cherished by doing things we enjoy. Just having started uni that year she had enough to deal with, and our “friendship” was probably more of a highlight to her than it was for me. It was as if we were in a non-committed boyfriend-girlfriend scenario sometimes. Eating together, going places together, and being seen together at parties. We sometimes kissed or groped at parties and it probably didn’t help but to raise further speculation amongst her friends about us.

There was this one time where she invited the whole group to her house to work on the group assignment, we worked through the night and it was 2am, the room was filled with crushed pizza boxes and empty beer cans. After finishing most of the work, our team just talked about our personal lives and inevitably sex came up. Everyone talked about their experiences, as well as anything wild they got up to. When the spotlight came to Gloria she said a few things but given her reaction I could tell it probably was made up. She seemed to be a virgin, nobody else in the room seemed to suspect her words, but I was certain they seemed to be false. A bit of a surprise to me that a girl who was rather hot at the age of 18 was still a virgin in the modern western society. As it got late, everyone else slowly left until it was just me and her. We talked a bit, kissed and it eventually came up, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” she nodded in response. I knew it. I assured her it was fine and given how virginity was given away so easily these days, it wasn’t the worst thing for her.

Following this, we both shared a lot of deeper secrets with each other and our chemistry probably improved more than anything. Gloria’s parents were abroad for a few months and during that time I ended up spending some time at hers. One night after a night of partying we took a cab back to hers and the sexual tension just couldn’t be tamed. The deep stares and making out lead to us finally doing it. We did this quite regularly over the coming months and it definitely didn’t change the dynamics of what we had going. However, our contradictory schedules and lives did. Gloria decided to do an internship the following semester and I was also balancing a heavy school workload with other work on the side.

One day, after one of our trysts, she told me she had her exchange approved and was going to be spending the following year abroad. Over the coming months we would end up seeing each other less and less though we would get together for the occasional, and eventual rare bang.

The last time we did it was during a busy exam period where I was living in stress and she was busy with her own life. I came over and released my stress for the whole day with her. I stayed over and usually the fatigue of a long sex session would make me fall asleep but on this occasion, I simply couldn’t, I stared long into her face as she lied there in deep sleep, ran my hands over her smooth skin and thought about the things we went through as if I knew this would be the last time we would see each other. In the morning, we both had to be elsewhere early but wanted nothing more than to lie there all day. Gloria leaned in for a kiss before parting ways and was a little sweeter and longer than usual.

I can browse through pictures on my online photos back up and can find all the memorable moments we shared. It was rather comforting looking at every photo and knowing where exactly it was taken and how the day went. Looking over the period where we spent the most time together, I noticed that most of my photos either had been taken either with her nearby or in the photo, so many hilarious jokes, laughs and places. Our “relationship”, and its ensuing fade-away was easy to follow in my sequential photo library. There was an obvious trend in the photos where it started with her company being a substantial portion of my shots to a gradual decline in her presence and an upshift in changes to my life. Who knows what she’s doing now, I don’t. However, I look back at the time we spent while or lives intertwined so deeply like a sunset, beautiful while it lasted.

I look at the pictures of Gloria online now, still amazingly well dressed and beautiful and much more refined than when she was a teen. The last photo I saw is a candid shot of her laughing on the street somewhere in Europe, and I couldn’t help but to wonder which lame infomercial she was laughing about.

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