Tag Archives: fucking

Reader Mailbag: Do You Actually Like Women?

23 Apr

“Jess” asks:

Also – do you actually like women? It seems like you like pretty girls and getting off, but I can’t tell if you actually like women.

I mean, sometimes.

Sometimes I like them, sometimes I don’t like them. Or rather, I like some women and not other women. I end up hanging out with tons of women these days, to the point where I am now like the annoying woman who says she can’t stand other women and all her friends are men. Because she can’t stand all the “drama,” etc.

So I like women. But then I don’t get laid for a good like six weeks and I start to hate women. If I see a woman talking to another man in a bar, and she seems interested in what he’s saying, I will hate that woman. I will hate that woman for falling for the same bullshit that that dude is pulling that he pulls on every other girl, that every other dude who is successful with women pulls, and I cannot pull, and I will resent her for not abandoning that successful charming dude and somehow recognizing, like, pheromonally, the true inner beauty of the marginally attractive drunk man at the other end of the bar scowling at her. And then later she will probably fucking complain to some guy like me about how that guy cheated on her or didn’t call her and I will sullenly think what the fuck did you expect? I will feel like I am the guy who has to soak up some girl’s tears while some other guy is soaking up that ass. I will begin to identify myself as the “nice guy” who doesn’t get laid because of some deeper inherent virtue than all those sleazy guys who are actually out there getting laid. I become exactly what surly Jezebel commenters call a NiceGuy™– a whiny self-pitying douche who morphs into a quasi-date rapist at the first glimpse of pussy.
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Throwing in the Jizz Towel

16 Apr

So– I no longer give a shit about getting laid.  Or I do, on a visceral level, like if I see a hot young chick with big tits jogging down the street I get horny.  Whenever the nineteen year old mailroom girl comes by to deliver the mail, I get all pheromonal.  We have a thing together, a flirtatious thing.  I need to figure out how to make something happen with that.

Except I don’t, because that’s the thing.  Aside from the most basic animal lust, I do not give a shit about getting laid.  I will not go through the slightest effort to get laid.  I will not say or do anything at any time that is any different than if I were not trying to get laid.  Which I’m not.  Trying to get laid.

Like– twice in the past few weeks I’ve had good first dates with hot, reasonably interesting girls that I’ve gotten along well with.  Perfectly solid girls.  4 stars on OKCupid for sure.  Each time we ended up back at the apartment and it got physical; in one case the chick wouldn’t take out her puss cuz she had a yeast infection, in the other I ended up performing oral sex on her.  So while obviously I tried to have sex on the first date and it didn’t happen, sex on the second date, which in both cases we had quasi-planned that night– sex on the second date was fucking GUARANTEED.  And both times, I blew it off.  I did the thing that girls do to me– I texted them that day that I couldn’t make it without proposing a specific other time that we could go out.  Because it was too hot, I was too hung over, the drive was going to be a pain in the ass… I did not make the simple effort just to go and harvest the fucking that I had painstakingly sewn on those first dates.  I could not be bothered to reach my hand up and pluck the ripe fruit from the tree.  Too much work.  These girls would have had to volunteer to come over to my place some night when I was already drunk basically.

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Internet Pussy: The Cave of Forgotten Dreams

11 Apr

I’m good at internet dating.

This means I’m good at taking a girl out, getting her a little drunk, and then fucking her.  I’m good at steering the second date to dinner at my house so I don’t have to drive to get laid.  I hear a lot of “I’m not usually like this” so I figure, you know, I must be onto something.*

Anyway.  Point being, I am good at internet dating, and that is horrible, because it’s one of those things that if you’ve had enough practice to be good at it you’ve failed in some larger sense.  Like— being good at pulling your own teeth.  Being good at showing people you’re not a pussy when you show up to a new prison.  It’s awesome that you’re a badass but the idea is that you figure your shit out and don’t have to go back. I wanted a relationship out of this, not 5,000 pieces of pussy.  I wanted some god damn companionship.  Someone I can call when the clouds are pretty or something and say, you know, go look at the pretty clouds.

Instead, I have merely gotten a ton of meaningless ass.  And then I’ve taken the confidence from getting that ass and taken it into the real world to get other, even more meaningless ass.  And it’s made me complacent.  Maybe there is viable girlfriend material out there but I can’t be bothered to look for it because I’m driving out to Sherman Oaks to bone some nineteen year old.** Continue reading →

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Talk to Your Kids about Sex

7 Apr

My mother was a feminist. My single mother, which means, God bless her, that I was raised as a feminist.  It means my sex and relationship talks from her were about respecting women.  About not taking advantage of women, not hurting them, not raping them.  After my stepdad came into our lives I never discussed these things with him.  It took a few conversations with my father to sort out the one thing that I really and truly needed to know about sex, which is: you’re not a bad looking dude, and don’t worry, you can get laid.

He’d had a very different life than me.  I lost my virginity at seventeen; at that age he had been picked up for dealing heroin and given the choice of going to the clink or enlisting in the marines at the height of Vietnam.  He told me stories like “one time I beat up this black guy so bad that I was checking the papers the next day to make sure I hadn’t killed him.”  He had a tough, colorful life.  I was on scholarship to a prep school where they had not one but two competing a capella groups that in any sensible community would have had the shit kicked out of them on a daily basis.  I was going to a school where they flew in math geniuses from China and all the girls wore docksiders and no makeup and were second cousins with Winston Churchill and if they ever saw a penis they would explode.  The occasional accidental erection of their horse was the only stiff penis they had ever seen, and they had absolutely no curiosity about expanding their knowledge.  A rich new England WASP girl is basically born elderly, in terms of her sexuality.  This is why she has time to focus on things like perfecting her application essay to intern at the U.N.  When I started at this fancy school, it was immediately clear that none of these girls would ever show even the remotest interest in me; they barely showed interest in boys at all.   Continue reading →

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I Don’t Want

27 Mar

to go out with you.  I want to just fuck you.  But I don’t want to fuck the kind of girl who just fucks you.  And I don’t want to go out with the kind of girl who just goes out with you.  I want to fuck the kind of girl who goes out with you, and go out with the kind of girl who just fucks you.

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But You Know,

20 Mar

every time you see a bunch of guys wearing some stupid thing, reflect on the fact that it is completely, 100% women’s fault. Because you once fucked some guy wearing flannel, one of the early adopters, and he then went and wore his lucky shirt out every weekend, and people said, hey, look, that guy who gets laid is wearing flannel, I better pick up some flannel myself. This is why we see so many Psycho-billy guys and all the other weird subgenre uniforms. Some girl who couldn’t get laid with the singer in a band fucked a guy with the same hair instead and now we all have to live with this. Dice tattoos, etc. Reverend Horton Heat is still getting dudes laid in Glendale and I haven’t heard from him since he was on Beavis & Butthead.

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Reader Mailbag: BF Out of My League

15 Mar

(REDACTED) asks:

I guess I want to know why an incredible good looking man would date an average looking woman…I met a hot as hell man who should be dating a supermodel and for some reason he has an interest in me, he’s not pushing sex at all, so I dont think its him thinking I’m desperate and he could easily get into my pants…he just wants to hang out and gives me amazing kisses. I dont get it. I’m an hour away, I dont drive, I dont have a job and I’m very average looking and a little chubby. I’m just not sure how to proceed with him.

Uh, who cares?  Pussy is pussy.  Or in your case, dick is dick.  Or, non-dick is non-dick, since you say he isn’t using you for sex.

Wait, why is that a good thing, that he isn’t fucking you.  That he isn’t “pushing” to fuck you.  Fucking is good.

I mean, I don’t know why he wants to date you.  But who cares.  I used to think that all the time—why on earth would this girl want to be with me, etc.  Every time.  Every time they would stop dating me. No good can ever come of thinking this. Continue reading →

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STD’s

13 Mar

I had an STD once.  It was “non-gonococcal urethritis.”  This means- something is in your dick, hurting it, and we know that it is not gonorrhea.  We don’t know what it is, but we know what it isn’t.  Thanks science.

I took a bunch of antibiotics for it.  It still did not go away.  This was terrifying of course.  I went to doctor after doctor, had my dickhole abrasively rubbed against microscope slides, had a guy milk my fucking prostate to test if some identifiable virus was lurking in the very most profound depths of my well of pre-cum— no. Nothing.  I was terrified, but every doctor was just like: “meh.”  Don’t worry about it.  Sometimes this shit happens, and eventually it just goes away.

Really?  Because I was told that if you get an STD you will carry it for life, infect everyone you ever look at, and then when the poor chick goes to have a baby 20 years from now its eyes will come out sealed shut with massive grapelike clusters of warts and the fucking thing will meekly flail its Chernobyl flippers before exploding and taking out 20 city blocks, and it will all be your fault.  I was told that if you even think about sticking your dick in someone without a condom, a dental dam, spermicidal jelly, and the pill you will instantly get AIDS and impregnate the girl with a spider’s nest full of three-headed demons.

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Douches

4 Mar

I told a couple people to come to a pool party I’m going to at some Hollywood club. They said no, it would be “douchey.”

This is accurate, but what people need to understand is that douches fuck. Douches dress like douches because there are girls that like to fuck douches, and girls who hang out with douches like to fuck. They don’t like to read David Foster Wallace and discuss vegan restaurants; they like to fuck.
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Girls who can get off, and girls who can’t get off

5 Feb

Every few months there’s a scientific study about how only point eight, or whatever, percent of girls can really get off through vaginal penetration.  Something on Jezebel, or some shit, and then all the comments (that don’t somehow work hating men into it) are talking about how more guys have to give better head, etc.

Virtually all girls seem to get off with me, but I accept that this is a lie. If they want to pretend to get off, and not tell me, fine.  I’m not going to press the issue. If a girl gets to the point in life where she’s fucking me, generally she’s fucked a thousand or so guys before me and if she can’t figure out how to come on a dick– old dog, new trick.  And frankly I don’t care.

There are a couple girls who clearly actually get off, or at least put on such a kegel-and-light show that even the foremost expert couldn’t tell they’re faking. Girls who get off early, and get off multiple times.  This is great, obviously, especially because if a girl pops in the first minute sometimes it’s nice, for once in your life, to give in to your own urge to pop off real fast.  Nothing on this Earth feels better than premature ejaculation. Nature’s way.
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