Inside The University of Melbourne

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.

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.

It was the night before a long weekend and a big storm. I finished off my day and met with a skank that I had been meaning to catch up for months. I wait outside the Metro and walk her to a chill bar that I usually head to. The staff there all know me by my first name. I go through the motions for the next couple of hours and walk her to my place, and the inevitable occurs.

After the act, in the post-coital bliss. I hear my phone is vibrating, and I also hear the door bell ringing continually.

Uh-oh, what could this be?

I pick up my phone and see a message from a girl I smashed a while back with something along the lines of “I’m outside your place now”

Urghhhh.

I spent a quick moment thinking of what to do. This isn’t the first time some random girl just keeps coming back for something pathetic. A lot of them have the minds of children in this part of the world. Smash a random and then go back to make themselves feel less slutty. Also, probably to make themselves feel like they were the victim when in all reality spreading your legs wide open after an hour is probably the catalyst to being treated like a smash and dash hole.

Then I broke down the situation to the naked girl in my bed: “There’s a weirdo outside my place, let’s quietly get dressed and get out through the back door”.

We bail and I walk her to the Metro for her trip home.

I sit outside and feel the late summer winds against my face and think of how to manage my time to make sure that I am not wasting too much of it on meaningless slores. Over the last few months I had become a lot busier and although I was much more involved in other projects, I didn’t mind as what I was doing now was a lot more meaningful and challenging than before. My desire to kill time by slamming sluts was a lot lower, at least the mental side of my brain was being stimulated through other means rather than figuring out which would be the fastest way to get her legs to open for me. Of course, being a male with a sex drive meant I still needed my fill, so I still didn’t give it all up but it was a more balanced effort these days with the time constraints.

I spent the long weekend abroad with some friends and realised how many were the same, they had to cut back too in order to focus on other things. I guess when your demands are being met and you’re out of a negative environment you truly can focus on what you want to do rather than dedicate hours and hours to get an ounce of the low hanging slut with attitude.