I’m thinking about texting her. Every time I text her, I think about it. This means I have already lost. The part of you that thinks is not the part that gets you laid. The part of you that games, and strategizes. You had already lost it two steps back, if you have to communicate in a way you don’t really feel. But what do I really feel. I like you. But you better fuck me.
I like you, but you better fuck me. See, there’s a text, but– you lost it two steps back when the chick didn’t fuck you already. There is no cool thing to say to a chick who hasn’t fucked you. You can only chump yourself out further and further. Even holding back, even saying nothing, communicates bitterness. It’s the best of bad options. If you are even thinking this shit you are so far gone that thinking about it further will only gnaw away at your mind, to the point where it corrodes your confidence with other women. If you are thinking about her at any time except when you’re beating off you are well and truly fucked. When women control the relationship they sabotage everything. They only know how to destroy. They are don’t fuck me machines. Rejection machines. Similarly, I am a fuck me machine. Even on a date where I don’t like the girl I have no mechanism for backing out. Only moving forward, making moves. Come back to my place, see the cat. I don’t fucking want her at my place and neither does the cat; I want to beat off and have a glass of wine and play Skyrim. But I’m a machine for fucking, a car with no reverse gear. When you are thinking about a woman in the way I am thinking about her, she has control, and that means the relationship is in the hands of the rejection machine. It only knows how to do one thing, stamp a big red “NO.”
She is looking for reasons to disqualify you, constantly, mercilessly, and the only way she won’t find some nitpick is if you just don’t give a fuck. Well now I give a fuck because she won’t fuck me right away. Fine, nothing to do. But her big red “no” has a toehold in your mind now, and it’s going to stubbornly cling on to every interaction with everybody. You have the stink on you. You are a leper. Pray you can keep the cancer from spreading before you’re dead to all pussy now and forever. FTOW, as they say. Thank God for OKCupid.
delicioustacos 
This is quickly becoming one of my favorite blogs. Good shit man, keep it coming.
Another good one. You mean (as in “regression to the mean”) is consistently very high.
Bro, why you let a little rejection put your shit out of whack like that? Rise above. Remember at all times, you are boss, champ and dragon-slayer. You can’t fuck every slit-toting humanoid, if you did you would catch a million diseases and die and then you couldn’t continue to be boss.
Relax, enjoy the wine and RPGs. Just around the corner are some passably-attractive sluts who also will have no reverse gear.. the destruction-derby of sport-fucking that will go down will make you feel like a chump for sweating whatever text message bullshit you’re over-thinking right now.
“Well now I give a fuck because she won’t fuck me right away.”
I’m OK with chicks who “take it slow” — and I’m not talking about anal sex here. My point is I’m not that horny of a dude and it doesn’t kill me to wait a little bit. I don’t need to have sex all the time. I am no longer 19 years old. I am a wizened 26-year-old with a gimp knee. But every date that goes by without boning, or at least without getting to the next base makes me question whether she likes me at all, whether she’s rejected me already but too much of a wimp to say so. She’s afraid to tell me I’ve been relegated to the I’m-never-gonna-fuck-you ladder. Physical intimacy stops being an enjoyable thing the two of us do, and instead becomes merely reassurance that she still likes me, like heroin for an addict merely fighting off withdrawal.
I miss Gertrude.
you are so much more attractive when you are a little bit defeated. like a cat at the pound, you know?
Overthinking it 🙂
#crdf #theeagle #thefaultline