The idiot, and the creepy old man

We were three guys.

She came to say hi to the tallest of us. And the youngest. Old friend of hers.

The other guy interacts,

She turns to our mutual friend, who actually just met him
"This idiot your friend?", there was no need to punish this little rabbit for stating the obvious.

Then I interact, she turns to our mutual friend, says something.which I don't hear.

At this point I did for a second think "who is this creepy old man", smiled to the thought, but sadly that was not what she said.

"Your friend is mysterious"

That, coming from a girl who is 21, more than a decade younger than me, at her sexual attractiveness peak, and gorgeous to boot. Now that made me smirk to myself, invisible to the outer world.

What was the difference?

Idiot:

Immediately shows interest in girl.
Leans in.
Tries to joke.
Tries to flirt.
Smiles like a jackass.
Did I say lean in? Like a tree blown by a hurricane?

Mysterious:

Girl comes. Don't move. Don't react.
Tell our mutual friend that I thought she was sixteen when I saw her in the gym. She standing beside us.
She jumps in, "21"
Tell our mutual friend "Good she is legal"
I then turn to her, "You had me thinking for a second there that you were almost illegal" now she is puppy eyed.
Then I smile. "Apparently not"
No lean in, no extreme joy at her presence, no smile without me earning it for myself, or her earning it.
Just another fish in the ocean (even if at this point a bulge would have been visible in my pants, had she looked down).

These small differences make up the chasm between the idiot and the mysterious.

No more flying, wingman candidate..

Things I write are always personal stories, and such, may seem meaningless. There, not if always, but many times, is a lesson there. Especially for the young guns.

I like the number three.

One is a mistake.
Two is a trend.
Three is Bye Bye.

One.

Barmaid smiles at me, cute little thing. Does not acknowledge the candidate.

"Dude, she is so into me. One day I will do her so bad"

And then attempts at getting her attention, bad attempts.

One. Mistake.

I need to remind you this kid is fast. A handsome speedy devil.

Two.

Girl walks all the way across the bar to say hi, to me. A girl that I have been interested in and a girl who has been interested in me, just have jot found the right time right place yet. After the chat, the flirt, etc, I introduce them.

When she leaves,

"Dude, I was almost tucking her a year ago. I had a girl with me so I had to shoot her down"

Two. Trend.

The guy you are out with is supposed to talk, but not talk bullshit, or try to one up you every single time.

I had not waited for Three to happen, for the Bye Bye, but it happened without him knowing it.

"Dude, after you talked with her, I went and talked with her. Did not work out" yea, after I talk to a girl for more than half hour... Still am unaffected... to a point.

What he does not know is this:

" Strange, last night only one more foreigner talked with me. An Italian came to talk after our first chat"

Right.

So, you are talking to a girl that I have clearly been flirting with. And you say you are Italian. A lie. (that I endorse if it is done far away from me)

Three. Bye Bye.

Two was Bye Bye. Three is going kamikaze on the candidacy.

Young'ns,

If you want the law of "Bro's before ho's" to be held in effect.

Behave like a motherfucking bro,
Not a goddamn Ho.

Wiping the ass of some other man's progeny

Saw Blue Angel sitting there with her sister, another girl and another dude.

Good looking as I remember her; I was wondering about the situation.

Who was the guy dating?

Definitely too average to be dating the sister, a 25 year old model who has dated studs. Not the nice kind.

The other girl? Dunno.

So my curiosity stays unsatisfied, until in a different location in the same bar, betabitchboy sitting on her lap, we come eye to eye with the girl and a subtle hi is exchanged.

Got to give it to her, she could have slept with me few months back, but she was kind of seeing somebody. Faithful to at least some extent.

But him?

When I met her months ago she said she had a baby boy, something that is one year old or smaller.

Means she is possibly still breastfeeding the little rascal.

Where is the dad?

Not in the picture.

From what I gather, the father is an asshole, a thug, a stud, a player, a celebrity, any combination in between.

From what I gather it is the produce of a short fling with an attractive man whose sperm was valuable.

If a kid is like five or older then maybe I could forget a man committing to another man's baby's mother. At least the kid sleeps at night.

What the fuck goes in a man's head when he wakes up three times in a night to carry somebody elses dickjuice?

From where I stood, I looked at one woman who I Liked when I met her, but would never consider more than one night, two nights or the occasional friendly call...

I looked at betabitchboy who was tapping that ass, one that I missed, happy in his at last found sexual release, paying not just through his nose, but paying through his ancestors' nose. The whole thousand generations. The ancestry ends here. 

There is no excuse. There is no fucking excuse.

----

In the same light. This celebrity divorce between Seal and Klum is said to happen because he started partying.

I tell you the reason.

Even if she gave him three kids, raising the kid of some Italian Playboy old enough to be Klum's father was the cancer that ate at him. Committing to a woman who was already pregnant, even if she was one of the most attractive women at the time, was like the soul killing cancer.

He chose to chemo that with younger fresher vajayjay... Vajayjay that is not inseminated with some old Italian Stallions lifewater.

----

One thing I know for sure.

Betabitchboy is not raising the kid of another betabitchboy.

Commitment to Inseminated Incubators VS Shotgunning Semen,
0:1

The Triangle: The Diver

There is a Bermuda Triangle out there that swallows your sexual adventure possibilities.

This triangle consists of Divers, Orbiters, and Cockblockers.

Their mission in life is to destroy your sex life, and sometimes they do succeed.

This is part 1, The Divers.

Except the men who exclusively had committed relationships, every man that I know who is sexually active has dived. In the case of a man who gets laid, it may have come in conjunction with alcohol, simply to end a drought, or the investment was so low, the man thought, "Bust a nut for free, why not". In the case of men who don't get laid, it was, to get laid. But then, for these this would not be called diving anyway.

I have dived.

Few times, various reasons. In some it was alcohol, in some it was the drought, and in some I just wanted to bust a nut and an opportunity arose.

In all these times, I knew I would feel bad in the morning, and I did.

This is usually the case, you dive, you empty a nut. you nut feels good, your soul suffers.

Sometimes your friends get to hear about it, or they were there that night, and they show their love and affection for you by reminding you of that one time you dived, compared to the other times that were flying like an eagle.

I say all these about diving, but even if his self confidence suffers due to the dive, one man's dive does not affect his future prospects as much as other men's cumulative dives.

What I mean by this:

Two handsome, well dressed guys standing at the bar, having fun, laughing, chatting, just having a good time.

These two girls, barely average, spot these two guys, and get interested.

With puppy eyes they come "Where are you from?"

The guys, instead of staying in their high seats and having a friendly chat, immediately move to the flirty chat where they openly start hitting on the girls. Body language, tonality, the words spoken etc.

One guy leaning in to the girl, "What are you doing later?"

Girls not on their level approach the guys, the guys immediately show unearned interest, and in five minutes, the girls leave. I am not talking about having a normal fun chat; I am talking about a full frontal demonstration of sexual interest. And neither the girls, nor any other observer would have any idea that these guys are actually enjoying the company of gorgeous girls.

I do not care about these specific girls, would not touch them with a ten foot pole.

And actually I was the third guy and the question was directed at me, and I had taken a step back, just kept silent and watched the girls when the other two jumped in. I turned to the fourth guy to continue the chat. And observe.

What happens in situations like this is that the average girls in the venue see two attractive men jumping hoops for two average girls, so the observing average girls think that is the least they will accept in a man.

The attractive girls see these attractive guys go for the average girls, and this increases their already high standards.

Now an attractive girl will not show interest to an attractive man, who has shown interest to an Average Jenny.

She already had a high standard (which can be short circuited usually by extreme confidence, or assholeness), she wants a successful man, attractive, charming, fit, funny, manly, trendy etc, now she really will not look at anything other than a Greek god with godly charm, godly money, and godly intellect.

Two men's dive will not cause this. Hundreds of men diving each weekend will inevitably cause this. Hundreds of women observing hundreds of men happily diving, grateful for the opportunity, skewes the market. Fatties get fatter, they can afford it, the attractive just skyrocket their standards.. (Which can be destroyed by a man who is in the know)

Now the behavior that used to be enough to get with the attractive ones is not enough anymore.

Confidence? Confident guys just jumped hoops for average girls.
Looks? Same.
Attitude? Same
Whatever trait? Same

Now, only extremes work.

Unwavering confidence, total indifference, full on tease, if needed, total assholery, add extreme adjective previously attractive trait.

That is why the Divers are one corner of the Bermuda Triangle of the Sexual Sea. I did my little share in this. Learned my lessons. Many a night left home alone because did not want to dive when an opportunity arose.

Before I close, now imagine the damage the chubby lovers have done. Diving for busting a nut is something.... proudly holding hands is something else.

I meet my first crazy ass psycho girl

"What about I visit you next weekend" she had said.

One of the sweetest girls that I mad met; and a lot of fun. It had been some time we had last seen, so I thought, "Why not"

"Welcome" I replied and left it at that, figuring the plans can be done later.

Saturday comes, she is in town, wants to see her friends, and I want to have a relaxed saturday for once. After the married chick, the volleyball hell, and few nights that would lead me to quitting my favorite venue of years, I looked forward to some cozy eve without going into town.

So I tell her to see her friends, that I got stuff to do, and that she call me when she is finished, we got all sunday for us anyway.

I am home, watching some good action flick, have no interest in meeting the girl out in town, something I know she will ask, so make myself a good cup of brewed coffee.

The phone rings.


"Hello, we are finished"
"Allright, where are you know"
"Downtown. You want to come here?"
"Just made a coffee. And it is cold. You come here"
"I don't know" ... I saw a red flag. Ignored.
"You come, we see"
"Ok"


While drinking the coffee, I get a burst of inspiration and decide to wait for the girl downstairs, outside.

I go down, jeans, tshirt, and coffee; it is -11.

I stay outside, sipping my coffee and enjoying the torture. Then I see her coming. Good. I was about to turn into ice anyway.

She arrives, I move to give her a quick welcome hug, she recoils. WTF? Anyway, I am freezing and am not going to wait for some fickle girl's mind to tun me into a tall ice statue,

I open the door, and mention her in, she comes, but she is walking too far away for a girl who sent "What about I visit you next weekend", out of the blue. I don't care as there is the huge heater by the elevator and I need to put my back to it to regain life.

She goes to the other side of the corridor, I know something is wrong, but I do not know what it is, and I can fix that. Or, so I think.

I tell her to come upstairs, she comes. Again, far away from me in the elevator.

We get to the apartment, I get me a whiskey. She sits on the corner of the couch, I take the other side.

"Tell me. What is it." I say
"The magic is gone"
"Ok, that happens"
"And I am angry at myself"
"That happens too."

But it is not in the words. It is in the eyes. The eyes are not the girl's that I knew. They are someone else's. Now I start feeling the dread.

We talk a bit more, more, meaning two three sentences, when she mentally retires to some other place.

Now I am curious, am sipping my whiskey and occasionally watching the girl's eyes.  It was very interesting. Like another person was there instead of the sweet girl.

She shouts out that I am irritating.

Whatever I think, turn back to my whiskey and read some economics blog from the net.

I need to pee.

She is sitting by the living room door so I have to pass by her.

"Don't fucking come close to me" she shouts
"Fucking going to toilet" I reply.

This goes on for fifteen more minutes, mostly silent treatment from her side, and I don't care, except that I know I got a potential problem in my hand.

So, while I was thinking what to do, when she breaks the silence with

"When is my next train", I am relieved.

I check.

"11".

"Ok I will read a book" she says, goes to the bedroom.

I start watching another movie. Can't concentrate though. Time passes, so I go to my bedroom, she is indeed reading.

"It is 10.30, in ten minutes you will have to run."
"I like running"
"Fine"

Ten minutes pass, I forget to check the time, twenty minutes pass, and just when I realized "shit, she missed the train", she comes to the couch

"I am seeing my friends tomorrow"
"And?"
"I am staying here"
"No you are not"
"Yes I am and you have no say in this"
"I prefer you not stay"
"I dont care, you can't kick me out"
"Look, if I trusted the police, I'd kick you out"
"Will they listen to you or me"

And that was the end of it. Even if I had my back covered in case the police did arrive, since the sweet girl had turned into an unpredictable psycho ass bitch, things could get out of my hand.

Thing is, if I do not kick her out, 99% probability is I got a problem, but a small problem.
If I kick her out, hairy dark foreigner that I am, the problem probability would lower to 1%, but the problem would be so big that 99% probability of the discomfort of a small problem was worth tackling, instead of the 1% probability of getting my life fucked. Not kicking her out, in worst case she would break something in the house, and I got insurance for that. Examples for the 1% risk would be that the arriving police squad will have a police officer that had to deal with other imported hairy dark foreigners, and would approach me with that bias. Not worth the risk.

The crazy ass psycho bitch offered to sleep on the couch tho, got to give her that.

My whiskey was finished.

I squeeze some lemon, and put tequila into the glass.

A friend texts me "Out tonight". I look at the text, I look at the girl, I look at the tequila, I look back at those strangely darting eyes of the psycho bitch, and downed the tequila.

Got up,

"Are you going out" she asks,
"Yea"
"Ok"

Get dressed, pour me another tequila, pour some tequila into my flask, squeeze another lemon, shoot that first tequila and leave the house.

Go to the bar, see my friends, down two tequilas. Get some wine. Flirt with a gorgeous blondie, nothing comes out of that, meet one of the most stylish guys in town (respect where it is due), meet the girl who had elbowed me a year before in the belly with hatred in her eyes, now we are on friendly terms, meet two more girls, and move to another venue; me, friends, stylish guy, elbower, and the two girls.

On the way, I finish my flask, two tequilas.

We enter the bar, I meet some more people, amd having a blast that night, which had to end eventually.

After some incident I skip here, I made it home. Drunk. Bombed. Smashed.

My noise wakes up the crazy ass psycho bitch. She gets up, now she's got the sweet eyes again. Good I think to myself, she's switched personalities.

So I go to sleep.

I wake up, no hangover, but totally devastated, so make some breakfast.

The sweet girl wakes up, it is all back to the crazy ass psycho bitch... I curse my luck.

After I eat breakfast and watch a sunday movie, she takes her book and goes to my room, where she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she is back with the sweet girl persona.

I ask her when she is going to meet her friends, and that is soon. So I am happy. Happy like christmas.

Time comes, she gets dressed,

"Will we see again" she asks. I, not wanting to risk to shithc the sweet girl back into a crazy ass psycho bitch,
"Let's see"
"Ok, have a good life" she says when she is out the door.

The door closes.

It is me, my house, my plants, and my dust mites.

No crazy ass psycho bitch in the sweet girl's clothing.

All of this was just a summary of my last 18 hours until then, so you would understand that I am feeling relieved, I am feeling happy, I am feeling joyous, and I am thinking to myself, that I was lucky. That there are men who marry these lunatics; and I just got rid of one without enduring significant pain.

Damn, there are men who make children with these lunatics. Live in the same house, day in day out.

I rarely feel so much pity for another person.

Then my phone alerts me to a message.

"I did not mean what I said. You know I like you, I know you like me"

No. No. No. Go away. Go away.

I shivered.

Thanks to that message, my sunday ended with me shivering in bed.

Never, never again.

The NSFW definitive guide to men's room etiquette (repost)

 

(My hate speech primer was supposed to go up tomorrow, I wanted this pic to celebrate the saturday night. So I repost this to put this on top of the previous post. Somehow editing the time stamp does not work the way I want it to.)

The NSFW definitive guide to men's room etiquette

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