Tag Archives: game

The Alpha and the Omega

7 Jul

I read a lot of “man-o-sphere” blogs.  Roosh and Chateau Heartiste and stuff like that.  It’s part of the reason why I write about getting laid so much, or failing to get laid– because I like these blogs.  You read shit like that and you want to write about it yourself.  Screeds about internet fatties and so on.  Yelling at women for not having a sense of humor.

You read enough of this stuff and you pick up an adversarial tone toward women. Or rather, it brings out the natural hatred and resentment of women in a guy who thinks he doesn’t get laid enough.  A guy who thinks other guys are getting laid more than him.  Who thinks this relates to his own deeper worthiness, the judgment of some drunk chick.  Your failure to get her to act on some base impulse when another guy was successful at it.  It means you are a loser.  It affirms your own deeper self hatred.  And you get pissed off.

The weird thing is, I get laid plenty, and I still feel like this.  I get more ass than a toilet seat despite  my self-loathing being pretty dead-on in a lot of respects.  I am an underachieving mean-spirited layabout and chicks still like me.  Why on Earth do I get so mad at them– they like me a lot.  Most of them end up fucking me, and they call me, and I don’t call them back.  Why am I so resentful of women who are supposedly not wanting to sleep with me, when they are in fact sleeping with me.  I’m the one blowing them off.  You have to create more and more elaborate standards to keep considering yourself the victim.  You become angry that nineteen year old girls under one hundred twenty pounds with small noses and perfect facial symmetry want to sleep with some famous guy in a  band rather than you.  You become angry that guys with so-called “game” are getting laid more than you, when in fact game is completely accessible to everybody and if it were such a big deal, why didn’t you just learn it.  You become angry that guys with small noses and perfect facial symmetry have an easier time getting laid than you.  Not that they get laid more than you, but that they have an easier time of it. Like being rich by your own hand and getting pissed at people with inherited wealth. Continue reading

They’re Gonna Hang My Cock from the Rafters

22 May

I can’t be bothered to go on a fucking date anymore.  The whole thing has just become so joyless.  And  it’s not them; it’s me.  There are plenty of nice attractive girls.  I get unsolicited OKCupid messages from them.  It would be so easy.  But… fuck it.

There was an old episode of STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION.  Or maybe DEEP SPACE NINE.  What happens is, the Klingon messiah from thousands of years ago comes back to life.  Kahless.  And there is debate among the Klingon community as to whether it’s the real guy, or merely a clone.  As one would expect with Klingons, words are not enough to settle the dispute and there has to be a ritualistic duel of champions with crazy crescent shaped two handed knives.

So the pro-Kahless and anti-Kahless guy are having this grim battle with the knives; sour, determined faces, cunning and strategy; and Kahless steps in and is like- “what the fuck is the matter with you guys? You are taking no JOY in this! We’re Klingons! We fucking LOVE fighting– you guys look miserable!”

That’s what internet dating feels like to me now.  And dating at large. I love dating; I love women, but it’s become just this rote, mercenary thing, you know.  It’s become an assembly line.  Find girl.  Message girl two to three sentences exactly– longer messages and shorter messages get far fewer responses. Fifty per cent of the time they respond, almost always continuing whatever joke I made.  I “cut the thread,” say some other funny thing that is unrelated, and ask for the number. Fifty per cent of the time I get it. Ten minute phone call on the drive home a day later.  Propose a specific plan. A specific bar on a specific night, and the bar is a place close to my house that serves artisanal beers with undetectably but shockingly high alcohol content; three of them will get any girl into the fuck zone.  Go for the makeout on the second cigarette break.  Walk her to her car and ask her to drive me home.  Ask her to come inside.  Get her inside, more making out, more booze, get her into bed, eat her pussy till she gets horny enough to let me put it in unprotected.  She’ll ask if I have condoms; of course I don’t. Continue reading

Protected: Game Part 1

1 Mar

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