Charming young ladies are undeniably alluring. Even those who aren’t quite top-shelf certainly can get lots of attention. Those who have good character are a treasure.
For others, unfortunately, it goes to their heads. Since my misspent youth, I’ve noted the absurd results. They don’t realize that the stuck-up act only goes so far before the juice isn’t worth the squeezing. For the following, it wouldn’t hurt to drop the Princess Complex, learn some humility, or at least show human decency.
1. Bar flies
We’re well aware of why some chicks are frequent fliers at bars and clubs. Using hopeful guys as free drink dispensers is only part of it. The other part involves riding the Cock Carousel.
Early experiences turned me off to night game. Although I’ve had success in later times, still I generally give clubs a miss, focusing instead on day game and social circle game. The cigarette smoke without proper ventilation was unbearable, though fortunately that’s less of a problem these days. Music is still so loud that one must scream to make oneself understood. Finally, I don’t go for the “buy me a drink” trick, but I don’t like paying exorbitant prices for my own beverages.
The worst part of clubbing, though, is unfriendly attitudes. There are countermeasures for cockblocking, AMOGs, and the good old Bitch Shield. Still, all that makes “partying” a pain in the ass. Why pay a cover charge for a night of aggravation? That’s irrational. As for sex ratios, often there are considerably more guys, and it’s understandable why women would take advantage of the situation. On the other hand, I don’t feel like wasting my time and money trying to game chicks in a social venue who pretend they aren’t in a social venue. Who do they think they are?
My message to them: You bar girls can drop the act. We know you’re out to get picked up. If not, then congratulations; you’re merely an alcoholic.
2. Women who’ve hit The Wall
It’s a cruel fact of nature that time plays havoc on a woman’s appearance. This can be mitigated partially by sunscreen, staying in shape, and not overdoing the partying. Still, it’s a fact that a middle-aged woman can’t turn heads like she could back in her nubile days. Meanwhile, guys who once were geeky teenagers start looking distinguished and increasing their personal accomplishment.
From considerable painful experience in high school (too many rich bitches) and college (too many snotty feminists), I observed that most chicks tended to act like they were God’s gift to men. Those who didn’t were truly wonderful, though they never stayed single for long. By age 25, some started coming back down to earth. However, even by 35, there were still a few who didn’t get the memo about their declining SMV.
My message to them: You’re not a stuck-up teenager anymore. You’re a stuck-up adult, and that’s worse. In fact, it’s pretty sad.
3. Self-proclaimed sluts
Women face conflicting messages on how they should express their natural desires—be traditional and act demure, or let it all hang out? Their choices have far-reaching consequences. I don’t envy them on that dilemma. I’d even sympathize with women about this, except that men not acting with Victorian propriety risk far worse penalties. Facts notwithstanding, if someone even thinks you’ve stepped a millimeter out of line, you might be visited by the HR department, get smeared on #MeToo, etc.
Women “letting it all hang out” often show their class and sophistication by permanently memorializing their youthful mistakes. Some get inked up like truckers, bikers, or circus roustabouts. Worse, they might get a face full of Borg implants. Essentially they’re branding themselves; hopefully they remain happy with their choices. Some even call themselves sluts, which in earlier times was unthinkable.
Long ago, there was an email list for self-proclaimed hussies in my area. I got to chat with the “queen bee” once. She wasn’t exactly a great prize, but I was interested and willing to give her a chance. However, contrary to advertising, she wasn’t exuberantly friendly and vivacious. Unfortunately, I made a game mistake. Naturally, she didn’t clue me in that anything was amiss, but told one of our mutual friends about it to maximize drama and funsies. Expressing my own desires certainly was not OK!
My message to them: If you’re going to call yourself a slut, then you’ve relinquished your “vestal virgin” card forever.
4. The less than beautiful
Some guys look like Henry Kissinger but don’t have his prominence, or look like George Soros and don’t have his billions. Likewise, not all ladies win the genetic lottery. It is what it is.
Do chicks undistinguished in the appearance category sensibly adjust their expectations and find someone who might look past their unremarkable exterior and appreciate their inner beauty? From what I’ve seen, not many do. This leads to chronic bad attitudes. Being sexually frustrated is a big part of that. However, it doesn’t help to reject offers from guys who do give them a chance. Neither does behaving snotty around guys who might potentially see something in them.
My message to them: You’re not exactly movie stars, so acting conceited makes you look silly.
I met a hooker through an interesting social circle, and knowing her was the gateway to an even more interesting one. (Note well, I’m not recommending the criminal underground for social circle game.) I’ve never paid for sex, but I’ve tried to talk sense into some of them. Most didn’t listen to sensible advice—shocking, isn’t it?
Sometimes I’m just too darn Mormon. Admittedly, I had a savior complex back in my Blue Pill days, which I’ve abandoned. Surprisingly, I discovered that hookers have morals. (Yes, they’re first-rate hypocrites.) It gets weirder yet.
One of them wrote me from jail, twice pointedly stating that she wanted a non-sexual relationship with me. Actually, I’d never tried to get into this walking train wreck’s panties. Surely a wad of cash would’ve charmed this space cadet, if I really wanted to rent a drug addict with Daddy issues, mental problems, and a criminal record. Still, she preemptively tried to Friend Zone me, despite my decent looks, respectable career, and (surely my worst “failing”) treating her like a human being.
She wasn’t even some high-dollar “escort”. It’s axiomatic that she’d had hundreds of penises inside her for money, and many (if not most) of her “customers” were too ugly to get laid without payment and didn’t exhibit gentlemanly behavior. I never wrote back, of course. I showed the letter to a former hooker, one of the few who listened to sensible advice. We had a good laugh about it. Her take was that the Duchess of York certainly had a high opinion of herself.
My message to them: Ladies of the evening, if you’ve traded sex for cash or drugs even once, it’s time to stop pretending you’re Saint Teresa of Ávila.
Friendly ladies are a treasure. Even those who aren’t available or aren’t mutually compatible are still pleasant company. That’s still something, just for its own sake. However, chicks who have inflated egos—or worse, act snotty—are dead to me forever.
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