As I am approaching thirty, I have taken myself more seriously, which includes a hardass level of standards and boundaries, which I will not tear down. I have zero problem attracting a female who sparks my interest, but in my town, this does not happen often, due to the fact that I am insanely selective in who I choose to share my time and body with. Most females in Western society and those who pursue me are (unless they are overseas) are fucked up. Even most of the ones who I have pursued which are five-star beauties have severe emotional, psychological and tunnel-visioning issues. When I say “tunnel-visioning”, that means that the women are one-sided. They want to have their cake and eat it too. But if you are a man who she claims to can see herself marrying, she wants you to remain padlocked in a chastity belt while she gives away pussy like free gallons of gasoline. Now, I am not throwing Western women in general under the bus (there are a number of them who are on my short list of possible bedfellows, plus the fact that it would be erroneous to categorize an entire group of persons), but as RooshV said, “Western Culture Poisons Women”. Every great man with a great mind knows this. Even Eddie Murphy stated in his 1987 stand-up routine, Raw, that when foreign women come to The States, they become poisoned (although I’m starting to hear women in France and the U.K. possess the same cutthroat elements). As a result, these bitches will eventually sputter their own demise, in a way that resembles Lord Of The Flies.
After falling in love with a woman who unintentionally betrayed me, I’ve broadened my horizons. I told myself that I would never be that stupid. Another woman whose shoulder I leaned on warned me about the single life: “You’re gonna have a hell of a time dealing with a bunch of jealous-ass females and getting played.” She is absolutely right. But marriage and LTRs are certainly not an option. I observed how many women play men like idiots by wasting their time or dangling the possibility of sex in front of gullible, slow-ass men like carrots on sticks. Women become insanely and sickeningly jealous upon their discovery of other women – who are actually more elegant and beautiful than them – who actually receive more attention from men – even if they are already in relationships with other men. As if they have Alzheimer’s. After being sidetracked by another female who worked up an emotional connection with me only to reduce it to shit and realizing she played so many men the same way (which I will discuss in the upcoming blog A Canadian Threesome), I grew sick. I grew weary, to say the least, of hoggish, vainglorious, crisis-prone bitches who weren’t even in the position to display such distressing behavior. Part of this is our fault (American men) for even offering acclaim and accompanying them in the slightest. And get this: None of us ever said “I Do” to any of these bitches. I got angry and that anger led me to step up and realize I can do better. So, I did better, which, as a result, made other bitches scarily jealous. Numbers deleted from my phone, social network profiles blocked and giving these pretentious humans the silent treatment or a piece of my mind!
As Dissention stated, “Companionship, fidelity, support, love, etc. were just myths that women talk about but do not follow up on.”
I grew balls one morning. I followed my instinct with precaution, tact and a closed mouth. I found every young, successful man’s dream. The dreams of men who refuse to put up with the mind games, magic tricks, complexities, the wasted money, time and stamina spent on dating, LTRs, matrimony and dreadful masturbation sessions. I discovered the sanest and most beautiful women who exude supermodel/celebrity style and status. The kind of women the average man or even the most seasoned nightclub poon-hounds would only see on the idiot box or wanker magazines.
I discovered escorts.
Since then, my standards escalated past the roof to the point to where I can’t even look certain women in the eye – including past bedfellows who became clingy once I laid them down. It gave me more of a reason to embrace my freedom and careers, which I refuse to jeopardize. And unlike some men who “use” these women, I am pickier, even in this arena. I can choose who I’d like based on my own value of beauty system. I never have to worry about wasting my sexual stamina, my orgasms, my time and guess what? Settling for bad sex with ugly or mediocre chicks who look like Jennifer Aniston, Kimberly Elise or Taraji P. Henson is never an option. I never spend time with these women out of loneliness, social ineptness, sexual feebleness or because someone accuses me of being horribly out of shape. Unlike those clueless males who criticize men like myself, I don’t have to take her shit. And she does not have to take mine! Many upscale gentlemen from various walks of life choose this lifestyle for various reasons. I am damned happy to be part of that elite group. The element of surprise proves that we are, in fact, alive. It either kicks our asses or makes us occasionally take part in guilty pleasures (the finer things in life) to ensure that we are not dreaming. I felt like when it comes to the opposite sex, God gave me a reason to smile again.
And now, my cynical view and contempt of the world has gotten even higher while I am simultaneously enthralled. It angers me that women (or “sluts”) with ethics get retrogressed by society and their counterfeit morality while dishonest whores and evil, psychologically glitched, sapphire bitches are highly praised and being made to feel as if their value is higher than what it is. I will conclude this installment of this series with a quote from Matthew Fitzgerald (the author of Sex-Ploytation: How Women Use Their Bodies To Extort Money From Men):
“Unlike her more ethical sisters, [prostitutes], who deal in honest transactions, the average woman trades sex (or more often the promise of sex) for gifts, entertainment and a lifestyle… The average man is a pawn to her sexual domination and abuse. He will buy her drinks, take her to dinner, pay for her vacations and all she has to do is hint at the possibility of sex, even when she has no intention of going through with it. When she does decide to take her partner to bed – and the decision is always hers and always after he’s spent an appropriate amount of money so that she can assure herself that her vagina doesn’t come cheap –it will be strictly on her terms. What he wants, what his needs are, is unimportant. He must play the game by her rules, if there is going to be a game at all. …[t]hus, the average woman may be a whore, but she’s a dishonest whore.”