Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Things you don't know (2)

Part 1 is here


You were so macho, so protective when I went to talk to her. I understand you. I would do the same thing if I also did not have the information that you did not have. That girl that you were protecting me from, who was your territory, you ever wondered later that night why she is so sore? I, the bringer of news, tell you it was not because of you. Rewind to around 1 am previous night. Oh hello, back to the past? Welcome to my humble home. Yes it is her. Yes, I opened the door naked. So, with this info, what would you do? I may have retreated, or moved on to greener pastures, but the lands you conquered, -maybe re-conquered-, have been burned by my retreating soldiers. Don't worry, grass will grow there again.


You are holding hands with her. You are having your honeymoon time. I know this because two weeks ago I was given the ultimatum that your woman wants more from me. It did not make sense then, but now I know why she pushed it. Well, I had to let her go, and I see she has gotten hold of you. I wonder if you would be so happy with knowing that she is only with you because I did not agree to commit. And I wonder how many times was I in the place you are now, not knowing that while I was holding hands, I was indeed Plan B. Or C. Or D. ...Z?


Your girlfriend just came home. You woke up, got out of bed, went downstairs, opened the door of your white picket fenced house to give her a welcome kiss from her girl's night out. Funny taste? Yea, she just blew the cab driver. No, I am not the cab driver.

There is always a reason

Why does a girl send me a message at 4 am, when it is clear she will not come to my place, and she will not invite me over to her place, since her sister is staying over. She texts me only to tell me that she is going home?

Even of her friend saw me leaving with the girl I spoke all night with.


She behaved, but she knows I've noticed her talking to other men, and knows her value will drop if I consider possible anything other than her going home alone. Because, she is.

So she is making sure I think she is going home alone, to protect her value, and my interest.


She already banged one of those guys, at the time when I met her sister and friend. A time when she was nowhere to be seen. So she is trying to counter any possibility of me adding 2 and something together and come to 2 plus something is something else than 2.

So she is making sure I think she is going home alone, to protect her value, and my interest.

Both cases aim for the same result:

Me knowing that she is going home alone, and me staying interested.

Both cases are oblivious to my assumption:

If she is not f#¤king you, she is f#¤ing somebody else.

Endnote: Unless proven otherwise. And in this case it seems likely she is actually not shagging somebody else, but the reasoning still will be valid most of the time.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Foreign food neither means good food is served nor a possession of culinary taste

So, was studying some finnish and these two sentences were written in the book "Teach Yourself Finnish":

"The multitude of pizzerias and kebab houses along the high streets show that the Finns travel a lot these days and prefer foreign food when they go out to eat. This is unfortunate from the point of view of a foreigner in Finland who would like to taste Finnish food"

To make such an error in logic requires some exceptional logical talent.

How many of those high street food joints serve actual food? How many serve some middle eastern version of pizza, how many sell that crap called kebab? Real kebab is 50% lamb, 50% beef, minced, on a skewer. The kebab sold on the high street? 30% potato, 30% soy, 20% parts of the animal that the lions would leave to the vultures, 20% part of the animal the vultures would leave to bugs.

I have heard of stories where dogs turned their nose away from that kebab thingy.

I do not eat kebab. Whenever I ate it, I shat like the sewer pipe of a Haitian village for three days.

Not all are like that, there is a Finnish owned pizzeria that I visit now and then, and a Middle Eastern eatery that has the best smashed spicy tomatoes in the country. There is a sausage cart that sells blood sausage, and there used to be that Malaysian Rastaurant who made everything on front of your eyes, fresh. A German sausage&beer house is also a pleasure to visit.

Now what do all these have in common?

The price. 10-15 euros for a dish. Maybe higher.

What do most of the places in the high street that supposedly shows that Finns like to travel have in common?

Shitty food, diarrhea, hairy men, and cheap food.

Cheap being 5 euros.

From this there are few things to deduct:

Finns prefer to pay 5 euros for crap instead of paying 10 for real food.

Most the foreigners who come here have no skills other than being able to cook crap, and sell it to people. Anyway, you either got highly skilled tech people coming here or people who barely can write. Wonder which one is the majority, which one sucks from the country, which one has some benefit?

Finnish food has real ingredients, and they cost.

Any eatery that wants to do things by the book, not employ workers off the books, not evade the tax, cannot afford to provide a dish under 10 euros.

But it has nothing to do with Finns traveling. If they were really tasting the culinary specialities of the places they go to when they were travelling, these kebab and pizza places would have gone out of business long time ago.


I would not have written this post if for every one quality foreign eatery there would not be twenty Crapbab and Pisszerias.

Foreplay perfected

I knew I was making a mistake, considering the blue balls I would have the next day.

But one, I wanted to torture myself, to relive the highschool days where I would shake in pain with every step I took,
Two, I wanted to torture myself, to once again prove to myself that being "special" is a curse
Three, I was really curious if she could sleep, like she said she would.

I was going home with a girl, under the pretense that we would just sleep.

That up to this point we have not slept is totally caused by me not giving a girl hope for future relationships, just in order to get laid. So, call it masochist torture, ball pain inflicted on ones self.

But then, I was going home with a girl, who got a phone call

3 A.M. It was -17 degrees, and blowing like the sky had eaten a truck of beans. My ears were frozen, my nose was frozen, my chin totally ice, but I could overhear the conversation

"I am going to spend the night with one man"


"Yes, I know him"


"We have been texting"


"How old are you?" she asks me, I tell her,

And she hands me the phone,

"Hello, I am SleepyGirls Mom"

"Good evening"

And even the rest of the conversation, the next fifteen seconds were not enough to prevent my blueballs.

In the end nothing could stop my mission of torturing myself.

She managed to sleep, I managed to smile to my pain.

Smiling now.

Cause I'm a creep.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Pickiness causing wallflowering explained

As an example for the women that are the reason for

Why I sometimes turn into a wallflower

Girl, gorgeous.

Girl, invites friend to a party.

Friend want the girl's friend.

Friend calls me.

"Dude, tomorrow there is this party of this gorgeous girl."

"Allright. Where, when and who?", I ask, interested,

"You know the girl."

"I do?"

"Yea, she is the Secretary"

"The one who was dating MiniStallone?", seriously the guy looks like Stallone minus the muscles,

"Yea. They broke up. She is free. Looking for a man."

"I would not poke that woman who got poked by MiniStallone with someone else's dick."

"But she is gorgeous"

"Yes she is. And she is a single mom. Thanks for the invitation."

"Man, it is your decision, I tell you she is ripe for the picking"

"Cool. Let somebody else poke her, pick her, whatever. It will not be me"

Yea, turns out MiniStallone did prison time for drugs, to add to the issue.

Woman is gorgeous, that is true, but her sexual value for me, zilch.

Had I not known of this information would I have ravaged her like a savage??

Why I sometimes turn into a wallflower

Because sometimes looking around I feel like

But for some reason, I am not willing to change venue.
When I observe women and their choices and the men they flock to, the games they play with some men and the ease they offer themselves to some other men, who would me nauseous even if they only would brush past me,even knowing why, knowing the dynamics, and benefiting immensely from the utilization of this knowledge,

After a little observation, this:

Turns into this:

Sometimes I see a girl, she looks into my eyes with passion, but my gut tells me there is something off. So I decide to let that one slide. I wait. I wait so I can see what was it that was off. And I wait only to be proven right, when she is all over some guy who I would not approve of. And in my life that is the only thing that matters. My judgment. She may be in love at first sight (as she was with me), but for me, I see that as her slumming it.

Maybe she will come to regret it in the morning, and that "maybe" seems to be more like "more and more often", judging from the "All men are assholes" rant I hear from almost all girls.

It is not my responsibility to prevent women from making bad choices, from shagging dudes they will regret later (and rationalize it anyway), and from women getting pumped'n'dumped by assholes.

It is not my responsibility to protect women from their own choices.

If my guts tell me this girl will make that choice if I do not offer my company, I will not offer my company.

One thing I learned from being sexually active, fuck'n'forget does not work, as inevitably you will get to see the men that you shared a pussy with, and that takes away a piece of your soul. As usually is the case, a sexually active woman finds attractive the men that you would use double gloves to shake hands with. And these women surrender to these men, take them and their juices inside them. Hopefully wrapped.

The very few times this has happened is enough for me to do my best to eliminate the chances of it happening again.

Upon realizing the girls looking at me will make choices they will regret, and later still rationalize by "it just happened", "it is just sex." - Years later that will amount to:"All you want is sex", when some good man enters the picture. - I happily turn into observation mode, as there is so much to see, without it causing you to lose pieces of your soul.

What it does is that it also creates extreme pickyness which leads you to better quality, and more valuable interactions, sadly they get rarer.

And this pickyness is not to be mistaken for the pickyness that women are so proud of:
"I am extremely picky. I don't f#¤k every man. Just every man I find attractive"

The Fallout of the Sexual Revolution 3 - Things that make us proud

One of the sweetest girls I've met in a long time, Kitty.

She is just not playing difficult, she is clearly showing me she likes to take things slow.

She calls our mutual friends "Fast", she says "I am not like them.", she says "I think different about sex", she says "I like to take it slow", and more. Our mutual friends are also two of the sweetest girls I met in a long time.

She asked me what my notch count was, I said

"Who counts notches at this day'n'age?"

She nodded her head like a little girl caught stealing cookie from the jar, and asked "How many?"

I told her "If I say 3, it is wrong, if I say 30, it is wrong, if I say 300 it is wrong, so even if I knew, I would not say it"

She says "Hmmm, true, but still, what is your notch?"

"Apparently one of us was counting. What is your notch?" I ask, with a smirk

She looks at me with the pride of the girl who managed to steal cookies unnoticed,

"I don't know but under twenty"

Bulls#¤t. She knows the exact number, but she otherwise she is saying the truth about the range of the number.

It is under 20. But not under 15, or she would have said so.

I am the firm believer that usually you need to modify the number you hear, like multiplying by three, or adding a 1 in front of the said number, but in this case, her being a proud slow one, told me she was telling the truth.

The next sentence I say with the full disclosure that I am willing to see this girl again, she did not drop into the Pump'n'dump bucket, she will get me to go out for a drink with her, and enjoy her feminine company. Nothing changed.

At this day and age, women can be sincerely proud to have less than 20 partners by 25.

20 x 16 cm, kinda around 3 meters. (How dare I think this way. I must hate women. Me, I am a misogynist.. Bwaaaaaa bwaaaaa buuuuu huuuuu)

Talking to myself: Makes you rethink the wisdom of the ancients who wrote religion. The wisdom you belittled so many times before.

Monday, December 06, 2010

Do not bonjorno me you little Cameleffer

This little rascal was walking in the bar, hunting.

The slimy little f#¤ker was dressed to the hilt, shiny gray shirt, a vest, shiny white shoes, shiny black belt, and added to the image the Palestinian scarf around his neck, just like a few other middle easterners in the bar. Apparently one guy got laid with that scarf, and now it is a trend.

As he is walking by me, the shiny little f#¤ker looks in my eyes, smiling like a shithead.

He thinks that I will be intimidated by the fifteen or so middle easterners behind my back.


So I look back, no emotion, just a curious stare.

He comes up and with his slimy smile,with an arrogant stance


I look at him, with a yea right look, and go

"Bonjorno, bonjorno"

The he recites some memorized sentence in italian,

I shake my head, shit eating grin,

"Bonjorno, ya ya, bonjorno" in the same tonality I would say Vafanculo

The real Itallian Stallion.

Then he asks me if I am russian, upon hearing a "What?" he asks me where I am from,

I tell him only about my southern, west of the middle east, half, that the middle easterners historically hate, and as predicted, he leaves immediately.

And some of you Finnish women, fall for the "Bonjorno". Or "Ola", "Ciao"... Think you are with an Italian loverboy.

I still do not know where he is from, but not Italian, that is sure.

This fact was proven to me half an hour later, when I saw him making a Kamikaze attack on an out of shape woman ten, fifteen years his senior, and and continuing to try her after he got shot down.

I have yet to see an Italian man swoop that low.

But the eastern neighbors of my southern half, oh man,

It is their thing.

Just like the late twenties Apachi (well groomed, well styled CamelF#¤ker, not to be mistaken by the native tribe, the Apaches) smooching this 45 year old woman who was maybe 1.50 tall, but definitely had a jeans size more than her height;

Just like the young Apachi, 24-25, long footballer hair, begging this 40 year old blond at closing time, only to hear "Ok, I go now, good night"

Like the very handsome 25ish Apachi holding hands with this older gal whose clock is ringing from miles afar.

All in the same night, all in front of me. What went on unseen by me, possibly is worse.

Got to admit it, some of these guys do shag/date very good looking women, but these guys are the minority, and the women usually have been in rotation between the gang.

Off topic: What I think about what goes on in Palestine or Israel is irrelevant. That these guys who are supposedly feeling for the Palestenians are using their national symbol to pick up chicks, is low, independent of my political views.

It is as low as a mosque goer wearing a big golden cross to the bar to pick up chicks. (Seen it)

But then, my eastern neighbors' integrity was never assumed. Kind of also proven by the last Wikileaks leak.


I do not care if you are in looooove, I do not care if you are a chubby chaser, I do not care if you got a blubber fetish, I do not care if you need to stay married to get the passport, I... do... not... care!

You, good looking foreigner man, dark hair, good shape, latino looks, though I guess you are likely from the middle east, well dressed;

Walking hand in hand with that woman who has a face the size of a basketball, has maybe around 30 kg's raw material for soap production, and the "I am the princess" expression.

You, hand in hand, and having that proud look on your face.

After a totally average girl sees what that Beast managed to get to commit to herself, of course she will think she deserves Prince Charming who is a CEO, prize fighter, doctor, artist, model, movie star and rock singer all in one. Plus a 10 inch di...

No wonder they even bitch on men who are more attractive than themselves, let alone the perfect matches. Once the self is deluded, it stays deluded, until she is bitchslapped back to reality.

Either time does it, or some dude pumping'n'dumping her. Since she ignored all men who would think she is dating material, the deluded woman will receive no sympathy from me.

Back to you men, you who are slumming it publicly, and being so damn proud of it are betraying all other men who have some kind of standards.

You wanna dumpster dive, do it in private, I mean there are places where men are shagging sheep, so there is a taste for everything, I understand, but just do not publicly declare that you are proud to be with a Beast. You idiots are destroying the chances of normal men with normal women.

Effing traitor to manhood.

It just occurred to me, apparently times have changed. Too many times I have seen the "The Beauty and the Beast" story turned around.

On hindsight, a human Beast is possibly an upgrade from sheep.





I had planned to write only about this Beauty proud of shagging the beast, but then I saw another usual scene on saturday.

Handsome man, looks like a swedish trust fund kid living on a sailboat. Once again he was leading these two girls to the bar to get the cocktails. Information has it he is "Just a friend"

Three weeks ago, I told a girl to get me a glass of water while she is waiting for her drink on the bar. She brought back my water; "Thanks, WaterGirl, that's nice"; "Hehe, thank him he bought the water", and I then realized that this Swedish Sailor was buying rounds to more than five girls, and he would also have gotten one for me if I had asked her for a 12yrs Bushmills. He also then was "Just a friend".

Not too bad for me, as I got what I wanted, not the water, with no investment. Way before these happenings. And also after that, maybe even aided by the hangover his drinks caused in the ladies.

But bad for anybody else out there who are trying to meet women without going bankrupt for a "friend". It is these guys who set the bar for (not even) getting laid so expensive.


Is always better than "Can I have the honor of paying for your drinks, pleaaase?"


He comes from a country where they f#¤k camels with a ladder.

He sees me talking to these two gorgeous women, and sees me not being successful with my attempt.

He does not know I have been seeing one of these two, until recently when we had a falling apart on what constitutes well behavior.

So I continue on my way, and the girls continue the same direction but at an arms distance to my right.

This CamelF#¤ker holds her arm and starts talking to her with a stern emotion in his face while looking at me.

I look at him, but continue. Will not put myself into discomfort for a woman who hasn't behaved well and for a man who is talking to the most beautiful girl he ever talked to. I know his face and I know his usual targets. Camels would be an upgrade.

I cannot hear what he said, but she smiled and said "Thank you very much"


If he told her how beautiful she is, so what? She knows it. She does not pay for any drink in the bar. How does that affect me? Nada. I am the guy who ignored her. And that, even when I have already been intimate. I have the upper hand.

If he told her to stay away from me, thanks go to him. She is in partying age, and bad advertisement is the best advertisement.

Whatever he told her while looking at me, he was competing with me.

He did not know that I already had finished the race for which he was shopping shoes for, and he just gave me a Ferrari for the next running race.

Betray yourself, a%%hole.

I will be the one laughing, and the only reason I will call her up is to ask "Hey, that night, what did that CamelFucker tell you? It seemed like he was a gentleman",

And the story will surface.

Finnish Independence Day, my respects


Finland, a little country of 3 million people, declared its independence, after being the punching bag for two empires for centuries.

Between the 176 million strong Russian empire,

And the Swedish Empire, then strong, but now likely the first casualty to multiculturalism and feminism; a castrated army lion without balls; and home to the soon extinct Swedes,

Between two strong, big, warmongering nations,

These small people managed to get their independence,

Over the next 93 years, managed to build a civilization in this godforsaken climate.

I respect and appreciate what your fathers and grandfathers have done, and mothers and grandmothers. 

I stand and salute,

Long live the Finnish Sisu!

Kauan eläköön Suomalainen Sisu!

Finnish Independence Day, also my celebration

6 December marks the Independence Day for this small nation.

It also happens to mark the day where for the first time in years I have no booty call on demand.

Instead of calling it a drought, I will call it independence.

Viva la revolution!

And for cementing the independence, spent my saturday self sabotaging my sex life by burning bridges that needed burning. Felt good.

Clean slate after so many years.

Horny but light.

Thursday, December 02, 2010

The Fallout of the Sexual Revolution 2 – Around the World

The CutiePie was 20

Her looks were good; are still good. Beautiful eyes, and a warm smile.

She was in the bar with her friend.

We got to meet,

And her friend proudly proclaims that the CutiePie, "You know, she slept with men from thirteen different countries!!!"

Allright, so by 25 she would have traveled f#¤ked her way around the world.

And then,
On her 25th birthday the will then state she has changed, and her favorite song now is

"My friend...."
At that moment CutiePie turned into RottenPie for me, and years later, I still fell the feeling in my stomach.

I can with confidence feel pity for the man who will try to raise a family in that One World Government, with that Vaj without borders.

What I may be missing is that if every sperm carries its own immune system strengthening antibodies, this woman will have an ironclad armor against any region's diseases.

Then, maybe that is irrelevant.

Woman's man

The reason I always say that I will judge a woman's choices in men by my own standards is that my standards and women's standards for what makes a man can be worlds apart.

I knew this guy, a big mouth Lothario; doing pretty well with the ladies.

To say the truth, am not sure if he was doing better than me, but he was doing better than 9 out of 10 guys out there.

One night, years ago, we were drinking with few guys. Some close friends, and a friend of a friend.

Changing place ,we were walking in the main street, the others twenty meters in the front, and me in the back with the drunk weightlifter.

Suddenly the guy turns on me and with fear in his eyes, goes

"You wanna kill me." and looks to his hand.

I go "What?"

"You wanna kill me." and again looks to his hand, sfter his eyes looked into mine for a moment, full of fear.

I look down, only to see a shining blade pointed to my midsection, not a centimeter away from me.

It takes a few minutes; I diffuse the situation, no blood spilled, no punches punched.

When I calm the guy down, when I am hundred percent sure I am safe for the timebeing, I go to my guys, as one of the guys knows this lifter better than I do, and he could keep him calm, till all settles.

So me and the lifter walk to the guys who were waiting for our chat to finish, not knowing about the knife pulled to my stomach.

I go up to my man, and tell him to talk down this lifter's fear, as he just pulled a knife on me for no reason. The other guys hear this,

My man goes to the lifter takes him to the side and calms him down, everything settles.

Only, I notice that at the moment I uttered the silent words "Yo, all ok now, but, your guy just pulled a knife on me", and the lifter was still five, ten meters in the back, the woman's man, our Lothario, was breaking the reconrds in the hundred meter dash.

I swear the guy covered fifty meters before I could finish my short sentence above.

I did not meet the guy again.

Back to the first sentence; what I call a scared piece of s#¤t was an attractive penis for quite many women.

That is why, I am the only one to decide if the guy she is/was with was a good choice or not.

Keeping it short 4 – If not you...

Young man,

You are seeing a girl.

She wants to go slow. 

If she is not f#¤king you, she's f#¤king someone else.

Because you are special.

Special. Sucker. The special sucker.

Wake up.


Unless she is a virgin,

9 out of 10, if not 9.9 out of 10, this is the case.

Keeping it (kinda) short 3: Definition of Average

Young man.

You will start to improve yourself, you will get better at what you want to get better at. You will start getting things you want to get. People will start to shame you. The will try to make you feel guilty.

Why? You will ask them,

They will tell you that you are better than the average, and the ones below the average are not living the life you are living.How come you can not feel for the lesser ones?

See, the definition of average - to be exact, median, but we keep with "average" - tells two things:


Half the people will be below average,


Half the people will be above average.


Unless we all become one and same, there will be an average,

You being above average is nothing to be guilty of.

Now go and enjoy the fruits of your sweat, patience and ambition, and maybe luck.

You owe nothing to noone.


Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Women have been lied to – Headgames are just a bullet for your own foot

Yea, you shot yourself in your own foot.

Then you blamed me with your eyes.

Let's rewind some three hours and start from the beginning.

Had we rewinded by 24hours, it would be me, you, and durex. But we are interested in the 3 hours before you blamed me with your eyes.

I was there with my friends, you arrived in the bar, walked past by me with a coy smile.

Welcome, I thought to myself. You did not stop because you want to keep me as your a little secret (except apparently you've been talking). No problem.

You pass by again, I say hello, you smirk and continue walking. I say, fine. Now we know it is a secret. Cool.

Sometime later I am talking with a girl that I am having a nice chat going on with, me getting punched in the arm, me teasing back, all in all bloody good fun. You appear out of nowhere, drink in your hand, stand behind her, start dancing and try to get my attention. You get it for five seconds, I return to my company.

Time passes. Am standing by myself while my friends are at the bar , getting smashed. I see you walking by again, I go up to you, you play coy, make me walk five meters, only to chat for ten seconds, the second after I tease you, you turn around like Marylin Monroe and walk away, giving me your smile and the head turn, with the golden hair waving in the air. I think to myself, that is the third time. Three. The holy trinity. The unholy trinity. Karma's third eye.

Time passes. Am talking to an acquaintance, who happens to be a good looking girl whom I have no romantic interest in, and there you are in the background, again, doing the sexy eyes thing.

Few moments later when I am standing by myself you pass by, without stopping, and me not trying to stop you. I'm not gonna play headgames under the guise of flirting.

Time passes. Now I am talking to a catty blonde and voila. I see you ten centimeters from my face.


Whoever told you that ignoring me when I am not busy, when I would enjoy your company, and then jumping all over me I am busy, will make me want you more, LIED.

Whoever told you that you flirting with other men in the meantime would make me want you more, LIED

What it does, you just shoot yourself in your own foot.

Whoever told you that since you were not affected by me leaving with other girls on at least two instances when you were around, and as far as I know,  even got more attracted to me; that I need to do the same, LIED

I am not a woman. I do not get attracted when I see other men being attracted to you. That is a God given thing. I am not a woman. I do not get attracted when I see you manage to go home with other men. Unlike it is for men, for women it really is no big feat. Would you be praising a man managing to buy alcohol in the alcohol shop, a woman buying a donut in the donut shop, a dog eating the food in the bowl? A monkey smelling his own ass? I thought so.

Whoever told you that men and women respond in the same way to similar stimulus, LIED

Whoever told you that because you responded in some way, I have to respond in the same way, LIED. You may feel I have to. You are free to have feelings.

That you get more interested in me when I have good looking women with me, is of no interest to me. I wanted to talk with you, you ran. You do that three times, only to come back and misbehave by disturbing my chat with another woman, and you are cut loose. Dissed and ignored.

I know I am maybe asking to much from a young woman who is the epicenter of attention, but I also have fuses that blow into ignorance.

One, I have no interest in playing headgames with women, model like looks do not change that,

Two, the more I see you entertained by other men, the more I see your general availability;... that does not make you a diamond, it makes you coal.

I know it is not your fault, your looks, men falling all over you, free dinners, and then the lies of the Cosmopolitan filth, are big part of the cause.

My motto:

Reciprocate, or get put on ice.

Part of the "My way or the highway" chapter in my book.

Can you learn it? Maybe, I will give it one try.

But I am past the point of teaching manners.

Angry? No

Sad? Yes

Sympathy? Yes.

Solution? Demotion. Having sympathy while demoting.
But demoting with no remorse.


Flirting is not a one way street.

It is a pleasuring, fun, exciting tennis match. Two sides playing, two sides entertained. One me. One you. One me. One you, and so on.

And I have no interest in being the stupid tennis ball machine non-stop shooting balls into the sea, which swallows them

If you ask me to be a machine, shooting balls at you, you not returning them; then I will be shooting the balls all over the place, at least some will be returned.

In this context, damn.

You chose to do that

I saw you were leaving, so I walked up to you.

You looked at me with hatred and anger in your eyes. And the beginning of teadrops.

You were leaving with your friend, and two guys you apparently know.

From my knowledge of the environment, and from my observations about your interaction with the two- even if you were in my back, and you never noticed me noticing that, even kicking me in the process- I assumed you knew him from the past, intimately, and you were going to get very intimate with him.

So, you knew you were going to get shagged, it was in your eyes, and I knew it was only because I ignored you whole night. So in your eyes there was blame. Blaming me for your inability to keep your legs shut for more than 24 hours. Edit: I have to admit, it breaks my heart to now remember the look in your eyes. But you followed him nevertheless. Won't help you with that.

I ignored you because you misbehaved. Story above. You knew you misbehaved.

And I ain't here to train a woman who can't keep the shop closed for a day. I will shop, but not teach.

The only thing you managed to do that night was to relegate yourself to become another woman I will have to let go after few more shags.

A woman tells me what she is good for, and I respect her wishes.

Though unlike what she thinks, she does not speak through conscious words, it is in the lines in between, and the behavior. Choices.

Do not be angry at me for your choice. You are getting what you wanted, what you worked for, and exactly what you deserve.

And no, a possible future claim of "You ignored me" is not enough for me to be a-ok with you leaving with another man so soon. I do not care how sexually liberated place this is, in my world, this does not happen. I will not live my life wondering where those lips have been.

You not being affected with me leaving with other girls when you are around, even getting more attracted, does not necessitate me doing the same. Upon seeing me active,  you choose to like it, a lot; upon seeing you active, I choose to forget about all the good time we had, without a second thought. Freedom of choice. My feelings, my choice.My world, my choice.

It is not even a choice. It is deep in the guts. Yes, I am not effing civilized. The civilized men out there are raising other men's kids, betraying their whole line of ancestors. I'll be a caveman, if that is the way to respect my strong line of ancestors. Ugh.

I feel no anger. I am saddened, as I was quite fond of you. Young and relatively innocent, you had touched some happy nerves in me. But, got to let you go. Soon.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

The fallout of the sexual revolution

I have a friend who one day told me "Thanks God we had the sexual revolution"

For what? I had thought. At that time he had been jerking off for years, with a few drunken lays in between. Few, meaning no more than three. In few years, few meaning more than three.

And there I was, at that time a speedy little f#¤ker, swearing at the sexual revolution.

I remembered this story when I could formulate what I mean by my dislike for the sexual revolution.

Sexual revolution, yeeeeeay.

What did it do?

It did this.

Girl, I am having good time with, I am treating well, I am giving pleasure to, but I am not promised to. She's young, and I am not in the place where I will buy a cow, when the milk is free. And I will not buy the cow, when her milk was free before I entered the scene.

Even if this is mentioned in another story, I will tackle the issue from a different point, so bear with me.

After being with me for a whole night, where in the morning she had trouble walking, she left the bar with a man, not 24 hours after we had our lateral rodeo.

I have lived here long enough, and I know her and people well enough to know that there is a almost sure possibility of her having shagged that man. Not my problem in the sense that I am not promised to her. So she is free.

Not 190 hours after having been entertained by two different men, she takes another man home.

Now, that is 8 days, 3 men.

I will not even bother expanding that to a year.

I thank the men who invented the condom, at least I know I will not be digging in that pool of man juice without a diving suit.

But what did that do?

I mean it is a free country.

It is a free society.

Women can do what men do. (In that case, do like the big majority of men do, jerk off) In this case, men is the creme de la creme of men, not more than 1 in 10, as the rest is invisible to them, till the clock starts going tik-toc-tic-toc-tic-toc

It is a free society.

And as she is free to do whomever she wants, whenever she wants, as often as she wants,

I am free to declare that she is in the category of Pump-and-dump.

Even more accurate,

She got herself to be in the category,

"Invite for a pump, kiss only if you smell toothpaste, and dump" Rinse, repeat.

Why I would pump her? Cause I got a durex diving suit, and she is damn gorgeous.

Though I am considering of buying a full latex protection suit  in the near future.


Joking aside, the sexual revolution created such a state that a man thinks twice before kissing a woman.

A woman not worthy of dating. A woman worthy only for the satisfaction of the most primal urge. And that, without kissing.

Sometimes I think about butterflies happily swimming in piss.

Sexual revolution.

The fastest way to the devaluation of the woman, sexuality, and her company.

And I think about the men who got screwed by the sexual revolution, who will one day pick up the leftovers.

I take comfort in the fact that up to now, I have been a prime benefactor of the revolution, a revolution that would happen if I wanted it or not. Being in the revolution makes you see what the rebels, revolutionistas really are.

They are something you'd think twice before kissing. 

Before I finish, let me just remind you that, someone, sometime, not knowing what I know, will beg her to marry him.

So I guess for the blue pill addicts, all is well.

Improving yourself is not a sin, dammit

You told me two things, in different times.

"Dude I don't want to get pumped up"


"Dude I do not want women who want me for my body"

For the first sentence, it will take you at least a full year to get your body in some shape, before you can talk about a risk of getting all pumped up. Do not underestimate the effort guys like me (happily and enjoyingly) put into being fit and athletic.

To the second sentence,

What do you think?

The woman that you would be attracted to you would respect you more because you do not want to present her with a body she will happily glide her fingers over?

It is not about wanting a woman to want you only for your body, it is about respecting the woman you will be with. Short term or long term.

She is giving you her body, the least you could do is take care of those love handles.

No, you will not get all pumped up like Arnold in two months,

And yes, there is nothing bad in her wanting you for your body only. Anyway, unless you find a complete virgin (anal, oral, hand etc and regular), believe me, there will be someone who's gotten her favors only due to his body; he definitely is not somewhere in the corner crying because he was used.

See it like this.

You are entering a 400 meter dash. Even if I prefer barefoot, would it not make sense running it with the best equipment available, not a winter coat and flip flops?

Or in other words,

Which of these would have a chance of finishing a race, let alone win it?

Or, this guy?

Allright, the first guy may indeed finish a race; after the whole gang of runners, some walkers, some jumpers, few rabbits, maybe a zebra or two have passed the line.

Willingly handicapping yourself in a way that does not fit the handicapped peacock principle is simply stated;


Now shut up'n gimme twen'y.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Women have been lied to. 30 is not 20

There is so much material for "Women have been lied to." series, it is ridiculous.

I saw her on her birthday, now she is 27. She is a good friend of mine, and as women come, she is as good as it gets. Attractive girl, and decent.

And she is the prime example of women who have been lied to.

"Happy birthday!!"


"Getting older, huh?"




"Well preserved"

"Well, thanks"

"No boyfriend in sight?"

"No, I want to wait. "

"But you want kids"


"Then do not wait"

"I got time till 30"

"No, you got no time till 30"

"I do, I will not start looking till I am 30"

"Nope. Best case, you find the guy by thirty, take your time getting to know him, get married, and then start the baby making process... Way too late"



I did not have the heart to tell her that the man she can find now, at the start of 27 is a few levels better prospect than the one she will manage to snag after she starts looking for one when she turns 30.

What is so bad in finding a man when you are young? When you have your youth and energy to offer to a man? When he can bond so strongly that it lasts a lifetime. At least has more chance to.

Women have been told that men like confidence, men like intelligence, men like challenge, men like a woman who has experience in life.

Maybe we do, but only after the youth and beauty condition is satisfied. Add to it perceived purity.And even then, the above are things we need to stand, not things we will necessarily cherish.

So she is now wasting one of her most valuable assets, because she has been lied to and no one put her straight. I tried, maybe I should have done it in the heartless way, thinking of her good, but sometimes you do not do the right thing.

Expected youth is relative, depends on the age of the guy, also I know some very hot over 25 women, depends on the woman too, but exceptions do not prove the rule wrong.

One friend likes this calculation: Man's age divided by two plus three; though I would not be so harsh myself. And yes, I can attest to the truth in his statement.

For a man wanting to start a family, meeting a woman when she is 30 is no good. And it is as simple as that.

Ah well, yea I know I am not a real man; I cannot handle a strong woman.

Our sad state. This NAWALT nowadays is one of the best bets

If I say, "She is not a NAWALT", what would that mean?

That she is the woman who is the one that says "Not all women are like that" meaning she is not like that.


That she is the woman that makes the women "Not all women are like that", meaning she is that.

Maybe some native speaker could clarify?

Why this story?

A friend today asked about my weekend, and I recited one of the stories from that night to him,

He immediately was "Man, don't talk anymore, NAWALT"

I agree. NAWALT. But like I said somewhere else, MAMWALT, More And More Women....

Below is a good case of a woman who is not like that, she is (not?; check above) a NAWALT.

Looks? Check.

Flirting? Check.

Cute? Double check

Feminine? Hell yea

Faithful to her friends? Yes.

Does not shag any asshole? Yes (at least she needs time. Proven)

Slow to bed? Yes

Date material if one would be so inclined? Definitely

Innocence, cuteness, sexiness and damn lot of sensuality? Yes.

This is a woman, after talking to her a man would go from "Damn I want to bed her" to "This is too good to be true". I admit, I almost fell for it.

So where is the catch?

The catch-22 is that this catch has no problem going on a date with a guy who has a girlfriend.

Of course it is rationalized; his relationship is shaky. And she knows him from before, and they never had sex.

Guy with girlfriend dating other women; bad bet? Apparently it does not matter for our female catch.

This, my friends is the sad state of "Dude, NAWALT".

If you assume NAWALT, you will be disappointed, as yes, most women, this way or that way, to some degree, are like that. It is the estrogen,

You want a woman not like that? Totally unlike that? Go date a transvestite. You get the boobs without the estrogen.

So, you ask me, is this not too personal? It his her private business.

It is.

Except two people, no one knows who she is, even my close friends,

And I think I can be forgiven if I said that I have tried to get her to meet me, as I do think she is a good woman I can spend some uncommitted time with. Edit: And I did meet again, and will get her to meet me again. Obsession, you can call it that.

I will try again, after a break, since I know she is attracted, but our mutual "friends" trigger her "I am a good friend" nerve. They also trigger her "I heard about him" nerve; not all is lost.

But yea, NAWALT.

Just keep your ears and eyes open. That can mean your destruction.

And now I go write her a mail, I am free tomorrow, and I would like her to join me in this artsy bar.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I am not easy... Really?

Third week of flirting.

Some messages sent by me, got me the "Creepy" label. I took pride in that label.

Saw her in the bar, said hi, moved on.

Somehow ended up talking with her later in the night, and she is on a full frontal flirt attack with her fingers, while teasing me with her words.

The body always speaks louder.

Her hands are out of control, but otherwise she is behaving. This takes one and a half hours, a time during which I enjoyed myself.

So we leave the bar, she knows I am a "hopeless case", I had told her not to try to change me, or something like that. Leaving the bar, I let some other opportunity pass by with another girl, that I should not have, but alcohol impairs judgement, even at low levels of being under the influence,

So we're leaving, and it is not clear where we will end up.

She asks

"Does your soul need saving"



"Well if you wanna try, go ahead"

She takes off her gloves and says,

"Then I take my gloves off"

"Here, take mine" (Due to previous interactions, was not interested in holding hands or playing to some tune she sings; even though this eve was fun)

We are walking, in a direction which is my direction, her friends in front of us, so destination is still on the bargain.

"Where are we going" she asks,

"You're joining me. That would make me happy" HEADSLAP (awareness, man awareness. Stupid me)



"I am not easy, you know"


"I am not easy"????????


"I am not easy" means one thing, (in context with previous interactions),

"I am not easy to you, to others, different story"


Eff off.

You know what just happened?

I turned IMPOSSIBLE, except for a well timed Pump'n'Dump. Hell, even the possibility of you becoming a booty call is questionable right now.

Had you said,

"I am not ready"

"I need to get to know you"

"I do not want my friends to see"

"It is too early"

I would take it, and not think much of it, as these can be more sincere, more believable, and you had showed genuine interest and were clearly enjoying the time we had. It was clear, you wanted more than just scratching my chiseled sides.

"I am not easy"

What the f¤%k do you think I am? A sheep shagging man whore? You're doing me a favor by sexing me? Come on? Reality check please.

"I am not easy"

What you did, was to take the interaction away from "She's fun, let's get to know her, if she's no psycho, have some sexual pleasure together" to the challenge of "We'll see who is easy/we'll see who is not easy"

"I am not easy"

And I just turned impossible.

The wet kisses on my cheeks do not rescue the situation.

Now, any guess on why you have not heard, and will not hear from me?

Of course I will be "friendly" with you when I see you again. But the terms have been set.

- The creep

Keeping it short 2 : Law of reciprocity

"Young brother;" he said, "never forget:"

"You f¤%k'em, they love you;
You love'em, they f¤%k you"

I was 15. He was 18. For me he was the wisest of the bigger brothers in school. Took me more than ten years to understand the truth in his words. By that time, I could have gotten me a new a¤%hole.

Keeping it short 1 : Kings and queens. Two is too many

You'll get treated like a king, as long as you do not treat her like the queen.

Things you don't know (1)

Things I don't know? Who cares... Let the unknown be unknown. The last time I got to know the unknown, I almost could not dig myself out.

The red pill is a special case. First you are sent down to earth, in between the fires of hell, only to be catapulted out into the sky, to fly high.

Things you don't know?

Let's see;


You little brunette, you were telling your friends how romantic that tall guy you are talking to is. Your eyes were sparkling.

You do not know of this conversation I overheard the next day, from the next table with five or six guys:

"How was that little brunette?"

"Haha man, she had a brazilian wax. The bitch was smooth. Fucked her in the ass. She also swallowed. Cheers!"

Another casualty on a beer table the day after.


You came up to her and told her "do not go with him, he is a player"

You do not know that, lying in bed all sweaty, she turned to me and asked,

"That dude, your friend?"

"No, why?"

"He told me you are a player"

Wiped the sweat off my eyes, smiled.


You, protective man, or sneaky f¤%ker (it is a scientific term),  came up to her and told her "Be careful, he is a player"

She told me thet she heard that "I am a player",

I looked into her eyes, smiled, she said "It doesn't matter"

In your case though, I know you meant well, so you are forgiven.


All these guys that you are smiling at,

They know you like it rough, very rough. "Bitchslap me" rough.

Some bird you let into your nest talked.

None of these guys you are smiling at are looking at you in a decent way.

I know; they talk to me.

But now I understand that you elbowing me in my stomach when I was passing my was your way of flirting.

Friday, November 12, 2010

A NAWALT candidate from the NAWALT camp


"Not all women are like that."

True, there can never be a condition where all women are like that, except all women are women. And some beasts make me even question that.


Fine, I will ride with that.

So I am always on the lookout for the NAWALT.

I knew this girl.

She had this NAWALT aura around her.

She was a girl who would use the NAWALT.

Yes, we know, when we talk, we are aware not all women are like that.

But you have to remind us about it all the time.

Let the innocent cast the first stone. 

You were dating a man who was educated, who had a future, who was extremely well built, in the ranks of pro athletes, he had a house, a car.

He sold the house, you bought one together.

You were the exemplary figure for NAWALT. Any woman who saw you would go "See, i told you NAWALT"

The guy was few ranks above you in attractiveness, but he loved you. Dearly. (The guy is not me).

Then you started bitching. Nagging. He could only stand it for a year. I do not know the rest of the story, who dumped who, but that was a match made in - wait for it - wait - wait - heaven.

You were one of the examples of women who were NAWALT. Who chose well, who "I am not like that" (Of course, we know what that means...)

Good looking woman. Seems decent. Not a bimbo. Chose her man well. Seemed to love her man. A man of high quality.

So what do you do last weekend?

You choose to be just another notch of this local player with the big head in the silver silk shirt. With his east asian looking eyes, the mofo looks like an effing alien.

I am aware of the tingle in the pussy you get for this man who (must have) has some charm and is apparently wanted by other women, but that, my lady, is riding a bicycle (there is something about male bicycles, eh?) after you ditched the Porsche made in Finland. (pun intended)

I got to give it to the guy, he must be smooth, very smooth to pull the game of that he is playing out there; and I say this, knowing him from before.

Then I thought of my friend, who is a Greek god, looks human, and think to myself,

"Another NAWALT bites the dust"


But every passing day, MAMWALT, "More and more women are like that."

The NAWALTs are really the exception that proves the rule. One day it will be NAWALT versus AAWALT. Almost all...

Am I playing for the audience?

I started thinking about this when at 4 am,

After calling a girl not-prostitute, being hit on by my colleagues wife without knowing it, after telling a girl that I could be her birthday present, but will not date, and she telling me she wants me, but she wants me as boyfriend, and few other incidents I forgot,

When leaving the bar with my friends, and no girls, this good friend of mine told me

"Man I respect you. And I do not understand it. You are so honest with women, You tell what you think, and do not care, and you still get laid. Man, I respect you"

So I thought thinking if my honesty is for this, if I am playing for the audience.

The answer is no, I am not. The audience is a bonus.

I play it straight up, since it is the way that respects my balls the most.

And that is what counts.

Somebody else can lick her balls in order to get some action, not me.

Actually am contemplating on going even more straight and honest.

Talking 'bout full on caveman style. Hardcore.

Wir machen bum bum bum, das haelt den Tarzan jung!

Beauty is only skin deep

Allright, this one story I will write,
starting with


Not all women are like that.

Now that we are clear,

Let me also say,


Not all men are willing to f¤%k that.

Woman, comes talks to me, me keeping decent but non-flirtatious.

Goes on to entertain my buddy in the
men room by putting her legs up the sink and playing with her pussy
asking him if he wants a piece. She had a skirt, and a pantyhose.

Weeks later after devil may know what

she did, she ends up in the men's room with another buddy of mine,
showing him her tits.

First time she was smooching some dude after leaving the restroom.

Second time she was actually with a guy in the bar. A different guy.

Now, the second buddy laughed about the

incident, mentioned her on the table, her being a good looking blonde and heard me say, "I won't be touching that"

He asked, "Why?"

As much as I was wanting to smash his face into my coffee cup, I kept my temper (I like that cup), and told

"Some women are not made to be touched, no matter how much beauty there is on the outside, if there
is so much filth on the inside"

If we were the last people on earth,

humanity would be lost. 


But then what does it matter what I think?

She is getting to the age where she will decide to settle down. So not too far from now, she will have the

House with the white picket fence, bought by him,

A diamond ring, symbolizing his forever lasting love, bought by him,

A wedding dress, symbolizing purity and innocence, bought, by, him,

1.6 kids, raised by him, likely not conceived by him,

A minivan, paid by him, used by her.

A cottage where she can have her girls bring their friends over,

Holidays around the world, because she is so special.

Something so special that it has been giving free peep shows in a stinking loo.

She is.

And he is?

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

Monkeys on the lookout for the bigger, better and elusive banana

Brunette. Used to date a friend of mine, and now they have broken up. I think she dumped him.
The night I met, I pissed her off, made fun of her, and left, only to contonue laughing with my friend, when she was not two meters away, with other people I know.
A week after that, I saw her again, and apologized for my unnecessarily harsh words, and just jumped back into entertaining myself, which pissed her off again. But I saw insecurity there.
For few weeks I have been seeing her with this playboy, who I also know. Seems like they are dating.
Except that, whenever I meet them, she has the look "please, oh please, say hi to me once again, and eff me to the sky"

Blonde. I know her from the bars, and happily can say never touched her or never approached her. We once talked due to her saying something to me. For a minute or two.
Seems she has started dating another player I know. And of course, when I passed by, talked with the guy, ignored her, all the time her eyes digging into mine with the puppy bowl look. Now it is sure that if she were to exist, from my point of view, the next time I met her, a shag in the toilets would be in the menu. 1. She does not exist. 2. I dont eat where I shit.

Allright, one fo these used to be a good girl, the other a was is and will be a harlot. So guess all bases are covered? The good, the bad, the....

Two different universes apart

She came over to me, asked me for a dance. I had no intention of going down to the dancefloor full of drunks, and I was having too good time with my own guys, so I let her dance by herself.

Took less than 30 seconds for her to be approached by a better than average guy.

Another one was eyeing me from far all night, I was busy drinking, and did not pay attention. Then I notice her standing a meter behind me, by herself. By now I was tipsy and deep in a conversation with a friend about some boobs on the dancefloor, so it takes me time to hear the alarm."She's too close. She's too close", by the time I registered the warning signs, which, too late, but not later than a thirty second's time, a handsome latino stud approached her, and was blown out badly, after which she immediately moved away.

(Poor guy, does not know the reason him getting the non-verbal f#¤k off was due to me not saying hi to her)

If I know right this would be the only approaches these women would make that night, and possibly the next few weeks. Upon rejection they got approached immediately by other valuable prospects.

Now, compare that to any of your non-ueber-studly buddies of yours.

Do they have the same approach – be approached ratio? Of one to at least one?

Not even close?

Not even close to being distantly familiar?

While I do rarely take advice on an approach,

That is why I do not take it seriously when a woman ridicules an approach.

Oh, and the women crying when I say "No" makes me laugh outloud at womyn talking about the "Fragile male ego".