Feminist Men 3: The Final Trilogy..

Here it is, the final installment on the trilogy on male feminists..

Hopefully some revelation, some insight into the male feminist behaviour..

Hopefully..

Enjoy..

Barbara Kay on Institutionalised Feminism and Misandry..

A very interesting discussion with Barbara Kay, this lady has been fighting our fight for many years and here she is, continuing that fight..

Kim and Kourtney Kardashian..

I have been looking forward to doing something on these dysfunctional females..

What a pair of cretins, really..

I mean, great tits and great body but what do they really have between their ears..

Oh wait..

6 Million Twitter accounts, more than Obama..

Do you have any TALENT..

Yes we have have and ..........

F*cking kill ME..

Notice how the brain delves down to dumb and dumber..

It's like listening to a buzsaw, a helicopter above the roof, some one dragging their nail across a blackboard..

Please spare me the brain damage..

Pussy Mania: I am Going to Kill You..

How is this for the ongoing demand of a "poonist" waxing lyrical about how he has just screwed up his life and garanteed his own demise just to chase some pussy..

What does it take for some men to realise that it is not the end goal and neither is it the pursuit of all..

 As usual, some one has to pay for access..

Basically, is it really worth it ?

Is pussy really that important ?

Part 1 here.
We dated… or rather, we ferociously copulated in between less carnal activities… for two and a half months. We spent a couple nights a week together out on dates, and the weekends at her place. (Rarely did we meet at my place. I had a friend over when I brought her back one time, and she seemed distinctly uncomfortable.) I took her to house parties where she met many of my friends. She mingled easily but never left my side for more than a minute. She was hardly without a warm, gentle smile, even in repose. My friends liked her a lot.
The RN I was seeing before I met bookstore girl remained in my orbit, but our time together was curtailed. This was a cinch to arrange since she worked late almost every weeknight, and sometimes on weekends. I doubt she nursed an anxious uncertainty over my whereabouts, but I did notice a renewed effort to impress me with home-cooked meals and blowjobs. Even in the absence of any concrete evidence of infidelity, some women have a sixth sense for these things. Sluts in particular — and I’m not making claims about RN girl’s sluttiness or restraint — are exquisitely attuned to the slightest whiff of betrayal, accustomed as they are to being cheated on constantly by opportunistic fly-by-nighters and to doing the cheating themselves. A skilled liar knows better than an honest woman when she is being lied to. As there are so few honest women, it’s no wonder their gender is very good at catching men in the act of lying.
The sun was beginning to set and the white walls of her unlit apartment were fading to an ashen gray. Bookstore girl and I sat perched at the end of her bed, our hips and legs touching, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Her eyes were haunted. I figured she was gearing up to tell me something important, and perhaps unpleasant.
“I have some bad news. I hope you don’t hate me for this.”
Emotional turmoil twisted her face. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and let her release her pain through osmosis into my chest. Instead, I arched my eyebrows and cocked my head. For some unexplained reason, I didn’t entertain the thought that she might be telling me she was pregnant. Had I done that, I imagine I would have perspired a little more vigorously.
In a halting voice, she stammered, “I’m married. I’ve been married for two years.” She paused for a response. Her eyes shimmered with the dew of emerging tears.
I consciously widened my eyes because I figured that’s what one is supposed to do when presented with surprising, and shocking, news. Without that conscious effort I doubt I’d have mustered better than a blank stare.
“I see.” For added dramatic effect, because the moment called for it, I pursed my lips, looked down at the floor, and slapped my hands against my thighs a couple of times. I also let out an audible sigh, which I later contemplated was overkill.
Because I am a man, drama is not the heady excitement for me it is for the typical woman. I believe I speak for many men when I say that a sudden infusion of relationship drama is like a circuit breaker in the male brain. Processes grind to a standstill, motors whirl down to hibernation mode. You want more than anything to get away, to retreat to a hobby, or the arms of another woman.
For this reason, my face could not spontaneously convey my mental state. It’s not that I wasn’t caught off-guard. That she was a married women, and therefore that I was making glorious love to a married woman, was a genuine shock. I had sat on the edge of her bed, inches from her melancholy face, expecting a lament about visa troubles and having to return to her home country, or perhaps an admission she was older than she stated. When she said she was married to a man returning to the US in a couple of weeks from a four month overseas business trip, I was honestly surprised. That possibility hadn’t crossed my mind.
It should have. Searching for words to say, I let my eyes wander around her — their — apartment. One by one, the pieces came together. What I hadn’t noticed before while happily under the spell of her intoxicating femininity now assaulted me with brute psychological force. This was a man’s home. His castle. There are his guitars. There is his impressive LP collection. There are his monochrome color schemes. And this was his queen. And here was the sanctity of his marital bed upon which I visited so many depraved violations.
She whimpered, “I’m so sorry. So sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. We’ve been having troubles. Some problems.”
“Jesus fuck. Well… this is not good.”
“No, I know. This is bad what I’ve done. Please please don’t hate me. I like you so much. I don’t want you to hate me.” Her accent was getting thicker.
“So… he was overseas when we met?”
“Yes.” A lone tear streaked down her face. She did not collapse into a sobbing heap. I admired the dignity with which she shed her tears.
“And you’ve been marred two years. And he’s coming back in two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“This is his place?”
She ruefully nodded.
“Goddamn this certainly throws a monkey wrench into things.” I pushed a tepid smile in her direction.
“What?”
Not the time for humor. “I don’t know what to say. Do you love him?”
“No. Yes. I can’t say. We’ve been having problems. The feelings have changed between us. But he’s coming back in two weeks. I don’t know what I’ll do then.” She gazed at me pleadingly. Pleading for… what? Rescue? Absolution? An erotic punishment?
I examined her face closely when she said this. She didn’t love him. Her confession of treachery should have hardened my heart, but like the Grinch when he overheard the Whos singing in Whoville on that present-less Christmas morning, my heart grew three sizes that moment. She was a lost woman without love, who wanted love desperately. Underneath her treachery was a purity of motive.
I moved my hand to rest on the back of her hand. She smiled beneath the sheen of drying tears.
Good readers, I would like to say that in that dimming bedroom, the muffled noise of traffic rising through her window like a somber pit orchestra tuning up for an opening night, I had a crisis of conscience and chose the path of goodness and light by refusing to sleep with her anymore. I would like to say guilt and honorable misgivings got a firm hold of my thoughts and my actions. Regrettably, that was not my state of mind. Every fiber of me pressed forward to commence another lustful coupling. There was no guilt. There was no honor among men. There wasn’t even a dry calculation of self-interest.
But there was desire. And maybe even love.
What stayed my penis was a beep from my cell phone. A new text had just arrived. I got up and checked it in the living room. RN girl was back from vacation and wanted to see me. Ah, drama-free sex. I returned to the quiet figure grown smaller on the edge of the bed.
“I have to go. Let’s talk about this later. We’ll see each other again.”
“Ok.” She exhaled with relief.
I was happy to escape that claustrophobic scene. It afforded me time to think. Except that I didn’t think. I didn’t turn over a single thought about what had just transpired. My mind had other plans, deciding to wander to idle thoughts about stopping for ice cream before driving over to RN girl’s place.
Two days later, bookstore girl called.
“I want to see you. Can you meet me now?”
It was a warm Saturday afternoon. It would be nice to get out in the late Spring sun. “Right now?”
“Yes. Can you?”
“Ok. Meet at your place?”
“No. Meet me on 45th Street. Across from the church. I’ll walk towards you.”
“Um, all right.” I thought this was a strange request, but I figured she felt badly about rendezvousing in her husband’s apartment.
I parked my car a few blocks away from her place and began walking to the meet-up spot. The sun was warm on my face, and bounced brightly off the sidewalks, obscuring my distance vision. On the opposite side of the street, I saw her walking toward me. I knew it was her because few girls allow their hair to grow as long as hers. It fluttered behind her like a banner held aloft by an advancing infantryman.
She was wearing a white top and tight jeans which molded perfectly to her slender legs and wide hips. We met at the predetermined location almost precisely at the same time. We stopped walking and I looked across the street at her. Although it was a narrow street, it seemed an expanse a mile wide. She was tiny, but glowing on the other side. I commenced my journey across.
Stepping in front of her, she gave me a kiss. She was shaking. Her eyes were puffy and red.
“Are you all right?”
“He’s back. He took my phone and saw the texts I sent you.” She was frantic. The words tumbled out of her half-formed.
“I thought he was coming back in two weeks?”
“He came back early! He saw the texts. He knows. He knows about us.” Now the tears flowed unchecked.
“Damn, what did he do?”
“He left. I don’t know where he went. He could be back soon. We can’t stay here long. I have to get back.”
Her cell rang. She ignored it.
“So what are we doing out here? Why did you want to see me?”
“Do you love me?”
I lurched backward from the force of the question. She continued before I could reply.
“Would you be with me… just me… right now if you could. Would you want to marry me someday? If I knew you wanted to be with just me, I could leave him. I could leave him now to live with you.”
What happened to the carefree days of sex and unburdened affection? Gone so soon?
“I… I think so… if I thought about it. I need time to think about this. It can’t be forced like this.”
Did I love her? It’s a question I hadn’t bothered to ask myself in the two months since we met. That such a puzzling thought went through my head at that precise moment suggested, to put it politely, some trepidation. I was cornered like I’ve never been cornered before, facing a stark and abrupt choice between two competing factions of my id. And the clock was ticking, quite literally.
She intensely observed my reaction. I was being judged. Something in my face, or my words, must have betrayed my inner doubt, because her voice fell to a whisper and her eyes dulled. A sullen realization gripped her.
Slowly, deliberately, she gathered her composure. “Are you ready to be with one person? With me? Tell me so I know what to do.”
The uncorrupted beauty of the day mocked my indecisiveness. The sunshine had never seemed so sinister. I wanted the converation to end and our lips to meet. One more liberated kiss without knowledge, like it was before.
I carefully constructed in my head the words I would say, when her phone rang again.
“It’s him. I have to go.”
She pressed into me and we kissed passionately, but briefly. She unlocked herself from my embrace and turned around to walk back to the loft apartment that was by now a den of rage and jealousy, but not before I captured a good look at her face. I shouldn’t have. It was an expression I knew would linger with me to the grave — a crestfallen resignation mixed with a faint glimmer of hope. Ironically, this was when I felt the first pangs of guilt about my time with her.
I watched her walk away from me, down the street, getting smaller and smaller with every step. I watched her shoes disappear. Then her shirt. Then all I could see was hair and jeans. Finally, she vanished around a corner.
If I knew at the time that would be the last beautiful moment I would see her, I would not have walked back to my car with such a light step.
Hours passed and I occupied myself with household chores. Who would have thought laundry would be such a welcome respite in tumultuous situations? I lovingly patted flat each pair of underwear. There would be no wrinkles insulting this man’s crotch.
At 8pm that evening, my cell rang. I was sitting at my desk with my feet propped up on it, lazily playing a video game. The number was hers. I answered.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
A man’s quavering voice crashed through the phone receiver. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Roissy..

Let's FIVE STAR this Blog to get some recognition..

I am getting really pissed off..

The Blogging community has a "5 Star" blogging preference and if you have a look at those bloggers that are "5 STARRED", you will witness the fact that not one of those "bloggers" have the hits that this blog has, the followers that this blog has or even come close to the amount of articles this blog has but it is deliberately ignored due to the usual PC bullshit that Google indulges in..

This Blog..
40 Followers
2700 Articles
Over 980,000 Hits and yet it is ignored..


Here are the top 5 Bloggers currently



January 28, 2011
wooden tree
http://wooden-tree.blogspot.com/

Absolutely no indication on traffic flow..

January 28, 2011
the tiny leaf
http://thetinyleaf.blogspot.com/

Woman in a Window
I'm a woman in flux, trying to discover who it is that I am. I've just the tips of my fingers on that elusive me and I'm trying real hard to grab tight. I've two amazing kids. I've one amazing life.

View my complete profile

Another female ofcourse..

January 27, 2011
Arta
http://thearta.blogspot.com/
January 26, 2011
the BOOT
http://tims-boot.blogspot.com/

Walkthrough animated~
I mentioned that I'll add a sep-by-step version of the last little picture I drew, so here it is. :] This is not one of my best drawings, there are actually a ton of other things that I usually do [editing, tweaking, lots of details etc.], but for a rough & rushed picture this is okayesque. Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ ♥

Oh Look, A MALE..

Google has been kind enough to put me on the front page of Blogger as a "Blog of Note". For the thousands of new visitors here are a selection of posts you might like

1. My 2011 predictions for the online travel industry;

2. As summary of my most recent 100 posts;

3. My 5,500 words on how much I hate Dell;

4. Introducing the Twelevator Pitch; and

The point that I put forth is that Google just ignores any other blog unless it is a FIVE STAR blog..

MARK MY BLOG WITH FIVE STARS.. every chance you get even though you do not agree..

Let's see if those sexist google editors will finally actually recognise this blog..

THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT, EVERYONE..

At the bottom of every page there is a 5 star rating option. Now I have no problem with anyone going back as far they can to mark that option on previous blog posts, that would be great. Please do as Google and Yahoo really define any site in that fashion..

The reason I am promoting that option is that my blog has just been dropped from Four rating to three and that being the case it will become irrelevant on their search parameters..

SO I need you to help me to keep this blog viable as well as recognised..

Thank you in advance as I do not take it for granted..

Charlie Sheen IN, Demi Lovato OUT..

Normally I really do not give a rats rear about the Hollyhoods but just for a change I may as well share the dismay..

Both appear to be on the road to meltdown..

Charlie Sheen has voluntarily entered a rehabilitation center, a decision that is putting his top-rated CBS sitcom on production hiatus.

Read more:

Jan 28 (Reuters) - Disney Channel teen star Demi Lovato has finished a three-month stay in rehab but has not yet decided when or whether to return work on her "Sonny With a Chance" TV show.

Read Here..

You mean, Feminists are liars ?

I never thought I would see the day when any politician in England would actually grow a pair or ask for them back after years of that male-hater supremo Harriet Harman polluted the country with her dissonance and ludicrous ranting, instilling in everyone's mind exactly what a useless bit of carbon it really is, unfortunately they actually voted that cretin back in, would you believe..

Anyway, we have a male politician still in possession of his manhood actually pointing the finger at the male-haters and they respond with their usual incoherent marxist raging..

He must be on the right track..

Young British MP Puts Feminists on the Defensive

from The Spearhead by W.F. Price

A few days ago, Conservative MP Dominic Raab went after feminism in the most extraordinarily explicit terms anyone has used in decades. He states that men get the shaft at work, feminists are “bigots” (!), the wage gap is a myth, and the feminist attack on men must be stopped. His statements could have come straight out of The Spearhead or Angry Harry, sites I’d assume he has some familiarity with. Although I’m sure many readers have already seen the comment Raab made, much of it is worth repeating. Coming from a politician, the following passage is jaw-droppingly frank:

While we have some of the toughest anti-discrimination laws in the world, we are blind to some of the most flagrant discrimination – against men. From the cradle to the grave, men are getting a raw deal. Men work longer hours, die earlier, but retire later than women. That won’t be fixed for another seven years. One reason women are left ‘holding the baby’ is anti-male discrimination in rights of maternity/paternity leave – which Clegg wants to tackle. Then there are ‘pre-nups’, recording the wishes of partners before they get married. Those wishes were serially ignored in this country, until last year – when one was enforced in favour of a woman, loaded German heiress Katrin Radmacher. Meanwhile, young boys are educationally disadvantaged compared to girls, and divorced or separated fathers are systematically ignored by the courts. A father turned up to one of my constituency surgeries, complaining that dozens of court orders requiring access rights had been flouted by his ex-wife. He asked me to write to Ministers, not because he harboured any hope of changing the situation, but so he could show his children he had tried everything when they reach adulthood.

At nearly 37, Raab is right in the transitional generation that grew up in the wake of feminist changes to society. I should know — he’s only about a half year older than me. For men of this age, it started from birth. Naturally, they went after the children first, so the feminist juggernaut forged resolutely on just a step in front of us our entire lives. For us, male privilege sounds like a cruel joke — it’s never existed. As small children, we were subjected to gender neutral toys and propaganda (e.g. “Free To Be, You and Me”), girls were favored throughout grade school, and just when we started to come of age the most draconian anti-father laws in human history were put in place. It doesn’t surprise me in the least to see that the first male politician to confront feminism head-on comes from this generation.
Such a powerful statement from a politician can only come from a position of moral strength, and it must have a good deal of support, because the feminist response has been defensive — something we never would have seen in the 90s, when they were in full attack mode.
In The Guardian, which appears to have become the feminist mouthpiece for the UK, Laurie Penny responds by calling Mr. Raab’s assertions “myths,” and attempts to do some damage control. She denies that feminists have made men’s lives worse, argues that “equality” legislation strengthens ordinary families, and tries to avoid the issue of women’s choices and decisions in regards to the so-called “wage gap.” Much of her response is a recapitulation of the standard feminist strategy of dissimulation and projection:

Raab is absolutely correct to suggest that many are “fed up of men and women being pitted against each other in an outdated battle of the sexes”. Unfortunately, his insistence that working men’s problems are the fault of feminism seems set to stir up yet more bitterness between men and women in the workplace: a classic strategy of divide and rule. Convincing ordinary people that women are making gains at the expense of men, or vice versa, distracts us all from the truth – that more than ever under this government’s austerity programme, it is the rich who are making gains at the expense of the poor.

Those not in the know – and their numbers are fewer every day – might not see that the above passage contains a couple whoppers, such as the suggestion that it isn’t feminists who are inciting war between the sexes for their own benefit, but rather those selfish, greedy patriarchs who refuse to raise taxes even higher for the benefit of the “poor.” What a load. Feminists know well that social services are geared to remove money from men and put it in the hands of women, often those with high-paid government and nonprofit positions. Gender warmongering is an integral part of this process — loaded DV and sexual harassment stats have been a huge source of funds for female bureaucrats and professional activists, and they have led to laws that quite clearly oppress men and advantage women both in the home and the workplace.
Raab’s salvo against feminism was impressive and heartening, but it wasn’t the first shot fired back at the feminists. At the grassroots level, men have been on the front lines for decades. The first few were a lonely crew, but the voices that were once drowned out by the crowd are growing in strength, and more and more men are coming into the light. If it weren’t for this growing awareness among men that they are suffering under an unjust regime, and an increasing willingness to express it, Raab wouldn’t have had the support that allowed him to take such a resolute stand against feminist excesses. Our efforts truly are beginning to pay off, and this is just the beginning.

Man Stroke Woman..

This is from a series of Man Stroke Woman videos on Youtube from the BBC which I find rather unusual as they are incredibly pro feminist and anti male in their little mind view of the world..

But this ties in with my "what are women, really" series and possibly confirms another one of our already answered questions..

"well, they're wedding flowers !"..



Hat tip to Rex Patriarch

And here is the wedding cake..



The top video uses the old html coding and the second utilises the new Iframe coding, interesting.

I wish I could write like this and unfortunately I may have to learn as academe demands..

Well, it continues the "what are women, really" thought that has surfaced following some searching on the web and some previous posts submitted here for further perusal..

So we have the "Strong Women" discussion as it is one that had to surface and as we read, that outcome is ofcourse inevitable as it recreates what we already know to be the case..
 We have such pearls as these..

Men are therefore more emotionally vulnerable than women, and they will naturally be wary of emotionally committing to “strong women,” who are far more likely to put them through emotional hell just to prove how “strong” they are. This is why “strong women” are often screwed, but infrequently wed.

Ah, that explains our favoured feminist by the name of Maureen Dowd; self stated genius, self promoting world wide wit and champion male hater. Author of. Are Men Necessary, now worth $ 0.49c on Amazon and money badly wasted..

Alas I wander. Feminists have always falsely accused men of fearing their version of a strong woman which ofcourse is totally different from our version..

Here is the truth..

“Strong women” are actually the most insecure, petty, and competitive women around. And these are weaknesses, not strengths.

And also this..

They can imitate masculine competitiveness, but not the forms of masculine camaraderie, civility, and brotherhood that give competition some humanity.

Yes, civility appears to escape them completely. Nastiness and rudeness replaced them. It is for that same reason that both males and females worldwide prefer men to lead rather than hysterical, minutiae controlling women..

Strong Women

Michael Polignano

800 words

This essay is from Michael Polignano’s book Taking Our Own Side, available in hardcover and paperback here.

January 20, 2004
Link..
“You’re just afraid of strong women!” I can’t count the number of times I have heard this accusation hurled at men who break up with their girlfriends after tiring of their feminist posturing and antics.
I confess: I am afraid of “strong women.” There are good reasons to dislike and even to fear them.
Let’s examine today’s definition of “strong women.” “Strong women” are not those who can lift heavy objects, carry baskets on their heads, and so forth. “Strong women” are not those who can bear with dignity the sorrows of life and death. “Strong women” are not those who, in addition to the burdens of motherhood, heroically shoulder the responsibilities of dead, dysfunctional, divorced, or otherwise absent fathers.
No, what is meant by “strong women” today is: women who can do anything and everything a man can do, just as well or even better, and so do not need men. As the saying goes, a “strong woman” needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. (Surely this is one of the dumbest and ugliest analogies ever to attain the lofty status of cliché.)

But it is nice to be needed: needed emotionally, not just for physical tasks like taking out the trash, squashing spiders, and manhandling recalcitrant jar lids. What man in his right mind would prefer a woman who doesn’t need him to a woman who does? The only man who prefers a woman who doesn’t need him doesn’t really need her either. She may be useful to him for a while, for sex or shallow companionship. But why would he risk a deep emotional commitment—why would he risk needing her—when she constantly insists that she really does not need him?
Men are naturally promiscuous, and they will put up with “strong women” as long as the sex is good. But men are also naturally romantic. I am convinced that men have deeper feelings for their partners than women have for theirs. (Women reserve their deepest feelings for their children.) Men are therefore more emotionally vulnerable than women, and they will naturally be wary of emotionally committing to “strong women,” who are far more likely to put them through emotional hell just to prove how “strong” they are. This is why “strong women” are often screwed, but infrequently wed.

It is just plain false that women can do everything a man can do, even better. Yes, there are exceptionally strong women and exceptionally weak men. But on the average, the sexes differ in countless ways. Thus it is true to say that the average man can outdo the average woman in countless pursuits, just as the average woman can outperform the average man in countless others. Furthermore, in any given couple, there are always some things the man can do better than the woman, and others the woman can do better than the man.
I have never met a man who was obsessed with ferreting out all the things that his girlfriend thought she could do better so he could prove her wrong. I know one thing: I would certainly not call him a strong man. Furthermore, I imagine that his girlfriend would quickly tire of his attempts to best her in cooking and needlework. After a time, I think she would find him downright contemptible. And when she finally walks out on him, I imagine he’ll stand there in the kitchen doorway, aproned and oven-mitted, the perfect soufflé held high in triumph, and scream, “You’re just afraid of strong men!”

“Strong women” are actually the most insecure, petty, and competitive women around. And these are weaknesses, not strengths.
No man wants a woman who constantly competes with him and looks for his weaknesses. Men make life competitive and insecure enough for their fellow men. So men naturally want their relationships with women to be havens from constant one-upmanship. But “strong women” won’t allow that.
Another problem with “strong women” is that they tend to imitate mistaken conceptions of masculine behavior. They can imitate masculine competitiveness, but not the forms of masculine camaraderie, civility, and brotherhood that give competition some humanity. How could they, when all of these softer, communitarian virtues are associated with the femininity that “strong women” are so concerned to overcome?
“Strong women” make themselves annoying, because they inject competition where it is unwelcome. They make themselves ridiculous, because they inevitably fail in some of their attempts to outdo their men. They make themselves contemptible, because they emotionally blackmail their men into letting them win a few rounds, hoping, perhaps, that they will get this damned competitiveness out of their system.
What is a “strong woman”? A creature who has abandoned the best features of her own sex for the worst features of the other. Now that is something to fear.

Feminist Sites Going Down the Gurgler..

It was not that long ago when you typed "feminism" into Google, there would be reams of links espousing all the lies and misinformation that feminist lackies live their life by..

But, suprisingly, have a look at this Google search on "feminism" and we witness the rise of Anti-feminism slowly creeping up the Search engine output...

Google..Feminism..

Not the case with Yahoo Search which must be deemed to be pro-feminist as there is not one criticism of feminism on their first page..

Yahoo..Feminism

Altavista displays about the same output as Google..

Altavista..Feminism

These are only a few of the search engine results but it's good to see the anti-feminist movement finally having their voices heard..

Come across any other interesting facts, re: feminism and it's inevitable demise, let me know..

Women cannot even tolerate each other..

Any guy whose has had anything to do with any member of the opposite sex can so readily relate to this article..

Normally I do not like to generalise except about feminism ofcourse, simply because in that case, it's true..

So once again I have take that path whenever discussing the relationships between women. Lesbians are a great example on how women just find it impossible to live with each other and there ofcourse is that fraud exposed. Number of issues arise but none more obvious than men being better at relationships than women are is without doubt, it is the main factor here..

Friendships are formed and minutiae is given the back seat, it does as far as our sex is concerned but apparently, as we have all witnessed regardless of age or situation, women are into minutiae for whatever spite they can manufacture or remember from long ago..

So to claim that women are better at relationships is obviously a blatant lie as they have clearly demonstrated beyond doubt that they have severe problems tolerating themselves..

The other issue that arises is this..

You chase, you court, you marry and finally, after a few years you end up like the guy in Blue Valentine (the movie) just because "she's not happy" and that is the main reason why 70% of marriages end up in the toilet and you loose half of everything because "momma ain't happy"..

I mean, all that effort to snare one and it turns on you like a rabid dog. Is it really worth it..

Women Can’t Live Together Either
Posted by Chuck on 01/17/2011
Link..
I’ve only watched the guido-infused reality TV show Jersey Shore in passing, but I know one thing about it through the show’s advertisements. The women there are constantly fighting with each other, both verbally and physically, while the men almost never clash with one another. Why?

I’ve already established that women don’t work well together in non-structured work environments. Where their jobs require them to interact with other co-workers to acquire scarce resources, women butt heads with one another and cause havoc and disorder. It would seem that women have either not evolved to cooperate far beyond the hearth or they have been socialized to compete vigorously with other women.

As commenter bruno pointed out, women also have a hard time living with one another. Female friendships usually can’t stand the test of co-habitation. If a woman secretly wants to obliterate a friendship with a female friend, she should move in with her; acrimony and hatred will naturally follow. Again, I’ll have to rely on anecdotal evidence to elucidate my point.

First off, I can’t think of any guys that I know who have lost friendships after a bad co-habitation experience with another guy. I’m sure it has happened (probably having to do with one roommate sleeping with another’s girlfriend), but I’m not aware of any second-hand stories. Here’s the imbalanced body of evidence showing that women can’t live together:

My girlfriend, K., has had innumerable mutual fallouts with female roommates. Back in her early college years, she was punched in the eye by a crazy broad that she lived with because K. wouldn’t move her car out of the garage (I don’t know who was right or who was wrong in the argument). Needless to say, these two are no longer friends. K.’s last roommate was unhappy with the pattern of air conditioning usage and would communicate her frustration through snarky text messages or stealthily-placed notes in the apartment’s commons area. The notes would read “K., you still owe me $X,” or “Your dishes,” with an arrow pointing towards the sink. I’m not trying to defend K. – she could have very easily been in the wrong – but the handling tactics of the roommate and K.’s responses quickly boiled over to the point where both sides purposely set out to annoy the other.

My mother is, by all accounts, a very patient and friendly woman. She goes with the flow and doesn’t complain about much. But I remember a story she’s told about her time living in the college dormitories. She and a roommate had a falling out – I can’t remember who supposedly started it – because my mom preferred that the toilet paper dangle from over the top of the roll while the roommate preferred it to dangle from below. The friendship was apparently ruined by this minor issue.

A group of four female friends – who I am friends with too – were broken up because one of the girl’s cat would hiss at the other roommates. The hissing cat uncovered a litany of past grievances which dealt with the core basis of their friendships. Like an episode of Survivor, the girls formed coalitions, backbit, talked shit, and one eventually moved out in the middle of the night taking her furniture with her. The girls were once best friends with each other, but most of them no longer speak. Instead of dealing with the initial grievance, the roommates would chatter among themselves or to outside friends. Coldness naturally crept in to each relationship as each roommate learned what the other was saying. This created an impenetrable sheet of ice that could have easily been penetrated through wit, diplomacy, or direct confrontation.

Three other girls at work went from BFF’s to arch-enemies because one roommate had loud sex. One was a virgin who didn’t approve of the sex. Working with all of them, I’d hear three versions of the same story. All of these versions, stemming from these womens’ need to tell the world their business, combined to create another giant cloud that hung over their friendship.

Another girl from work has gone through four separate roommates and now hates all of them. She was best friends with several but now they are all “Bitches” or “cunts” for some stupid slight that I can neither recall nor care about.

The question becomes, what percentage of women residing with other women end their relationships on amicable terms and at the same level of friendship as when they entered their lease? Undoubtedly, this percentage is low – at least relative to men. Why is this?

I have a couple of theories.

Women don’t have senses of humor. Two women is like a mortician’s convention. Three plus is like the mortuary itself.

If a man doesn’t approve of something his male roommate is doing, he’ll humorously jab him using very subtle shaming techniques to drop a hint. “Dood, the sink smells like your mom’s snatch.”

“Is it my turn already?”

“Yeah asshole. Hey, toss me a bear from the fridge while you’re up.”

If one roommate’s rent is past due, the other will directly ask for the money. If one roommate likes to keep the heater on, the other roommate won’t care because “it’s not the end of the world.”

Women don’t do this. They see a problem, they get defensive, they fume, they call friends, they call parents, they post vague snarky messages on Facebook. They do everything but address the problem in a slightly diplomatic and slightly humorous way. In short, they turn a simple interaction into a big deal. The backbiting that ensues begins festering like the mold on the dirty dishes that one of the roommates will now refuse to do “on principle”.

Either evolved through hunter-gatherer’s cooperation or socialized to ignore pettiness, men seem to have a greater innate sense of fairness and objectivity. Men understand that their housemate will do something that pisses them off, and that they will probably do the same thing at some point in time. If men battle it out over every single slight, the situation could actually end violently. Men have developed humor, diplomacy, and subtle shaming techniques to diffuse situations which would otherwise be dangerous.

It is a waste of time and energy to mire oneself in petty domestic conflict. Both sides locking horns over unwashed dishes leads to a sort of Prisoner’s Dilemma were both are left worse off than they would otherwise be. Women don’t diffuse housemate situations very well and they hold grudges. Snark begets snark. Trash talking and gossip begets trash talking and gossip. Each side takes this personally and the situation spirals out of control. Fights ensue. Leases are broken. The song remains the same.

Dr. Phil and His Viewers Don’t See Eye to Eye on Women’s Domestic Violence Against Men..

I have noticed that Dr Phil is just another version of Oprah in spreading the "DV against Men" denial to such a degree that even now, with copiuos studies demonstrating that they are victims of DV, still only ever promotes this myopic view point that only women are ever the victims...

But Jan puts him right and one can only hope that his blatant misandry, which is basically aimed at the predominately female audience, will eventually change..

Dr. Phil and His Viewers Don’t See Eye to Eye on Women’s Domestic Violence Against Men

A Letter to Dr. Phil From Jan Elizabeth Brown
“Dr. Phil, you are an intelligent, well read man so I can’t for the life of me understand how you can continue to ignore the truth regarding domestic violence. Your recent announcement declaring that your show’s ninth season will be devoted to “ending the silence on domestic violence,” falls flat for those of us who support all victims. How are you going to “end the silence” given the fact that you are guilty of being tight lipped yourself about the over 834,000 straight, gay and transgender male victims of intimate partner violence each year? Your website shares plenty of stats of female victims but no mention of how many male victims there are each year even though the stats are available.
You have invited everyone to join your campaign and become a “Silence Breaker!” but if you won’t even be a “Silence Breaker!” how can you ask anyone else to do so?” I challenge you to read some empirical data on male victims by Dr. Hines and Douglas’s and Dr. Gelles testimony before US Senate Committee on the Judiciary this year and then tell me you can continue to ignore this much under served group of victims.”
I stopped watching Dr. Phil’s show because of his myopic views on domestic violence, however, a news alert I received had a link to his the message board for the January 10th show titled, “Afraid of My Husband.”
Looking at the comments on this message board I see that nothing has changed with Dr. Phil; he is still being tight lipped and ignorant about male victims. Worse yet, on this January 10th show he made excuses for a wife’s violence towards her husband, calling the abuse she perpetrated against him a “relationship issue.” Dr. Phil’s reasoning that the husband was bigger and stronger and therefore the abuser did apparently not sway the commentors. Oh Dr. Phil when are you going to put that old myth to rest?
A person who is 5’4”, prone to violence, and very angry can do a lot of damage to someone who is 6’2” weighs more, and is a non-violent person. Size, weight, and/or being muscular are not good indicators of whether or not a man will be a victim or a batterer. This myth focuses only on the physical aspects of domestic violence. An abuser does not need to be bigger or stronger to throw a meat cleaver at you, rip the phone of the wall and use it as a weapon, cut up all your clothing, or threaten to call the police and tell them that you are abusing them. Violence is a matter of personal choice, not body size. [Excerpted from our paper on our website called, "Myths and Realities of Domestic Abuse Against Men,” Myth #2]
Domestic or intimate partner violence is an intentional and methodical pattern of abusive tactics used by one partner in a relationship to gain power and exert control over the other partner in the relationship. A person doesn’t have to be bigger or stronger to be the abusive one in the relationship.
Dr. Phil got a reaction from quite few of his viewers who watched this show, however, probably not the reaction he expected. Viewers were quite upset by his comments about this couple’s domestic violence, so much so that some viewers who don’t usually go online to write felt compelled to do so to voice their opinions on how wrong Dr. Phil was in this situation.
Viewers were none too pleased with the way he handled the domestic violence going in Sonya and Lawrence’s relationship. As a matter of fact, of the 190 comments made on Dr. Phil’s message board only a handful were in support. It seems he touched quite a few nerves with his justification of the wife’s violence towards her husband.
Here are just 12 of the 190 comments made (spelling and grammar errors left in the messages to keep them original):
By:nsturner
I heard Dr. Phil tell Sonya that what she was doing was a relationship issue not an abuse issue. In my mind spitting and hitting someone is assualt, no matter the gender of the person doing it.Sonya admitted to spitting on her husband while he was walking down the stairs to leave the confrontation.
I believe this comment made by D. Phil is a blow to the Stop the Violence campaign because he is saying that if a man hits a woman it is abuse but if a woman hits a man it is a relationship issue.

Link..

Oprah: Another Tight Fisted Female..

Oprah-mania surged through Australia, demonstrating the hysteria that this person induces for whatever the reason is is indeed incomprehensible.  This billionaire female comes across as a caring, sharing human being but in reality is the exact opposite..

Here is a good example how generous it really isn't..

Karl Quinn:

In Australia, Oprah ‘’gave away’’ $1 million worth of computer gear to a needy school (donated by IBM and Hewlett Packard). She gave away $250,000 to a cancer sufferer and his family (donated by X-Box). She gave away 6000 pearl necklaces (donated by West Australian pearl producer MG Kailis) and 6000 diamond pendants (donated by Rio Tinto). And, of course, she gave away the trip of a lifetime to each of the 302 ultimate fans who accompanied her from Canada and America (donated by Australian tourism bodies).
None of which is to say there is not a lot to admire in Oprah’s generosity. It’s merely to make the point that when Oprah gives, there’s a very good chance someone else is picking up the tab - even as she is picking up the glory.

American Woman, Stay Away From ME..

You may want to watch the first video, then remove all sharp objects, anything heavy and do not be drinking anything when you check out the next video..



Now you will find out why I included the previous video..

Take a deep breath cause it ain't pretty..



How's the screen standing up..

Divorce Lawyers For Men..

I know I keep logging these Youtube videos which will slow down this site but this one is a rarity and well worth noting..

Equal the fight, just a little..

Sexist Laurie Penny, just another feminist..

Just some pre-amble to this rather interesting article which in itself is self explanatory but..

Without exception, Leftwing=feminist.

Just incase you doubt..

Hello, people who haven't seen this blog before. I'm Laurie, I'm a 24-year-old freelance journalist, activist and feminist writer

Bingo..

Link to cretins worthless raging..

Oh, by the way..

Comments are a worry apparently..

Yet again, I've had to turn comment moderation on after an avalanche of abusive and/or trollish posting. This is a pain for me, as it means I have to individually check and approve every comment, and it limits the debate for other people as they have to wait for their comments to appear. So apologies to the vast majority of polite commenters: some fuckwits just spoiled it again. Fuckwits: you get your toy back when you learn to play nicely. I get to decide when you've earned it.

Gee! I wonder why ?

I note the link as it's time those hate mongers were exposed and everyone should read their hate speech and mindless ranting..

So here we have a sexist female, demanding a female employee and then paying her below the minimum wage..

I don't know why I bother. They just shoot themselves in the foot without even trying..

And then publicly demonstrate their total stupidity..

Sexist Laurie Penny Exploits UnemployedPays Staff Below Minimum Wage

from Guy Fawkes' blog by guidofawkes

5 people liked this

It’s a tough life being the New Statesman’s “voice of a generation”, but luckily Laurie Penny – our  favourite privately educated revolutionary who learnt about the hard knocks of life at Wadham College, Oxford – has found the solution to all her problems. Hire some help. She is advertising for an intern to help her with a book, which due to media demands she doesn’t have time to commit to herself. If only she spent more time typing instead of rioting…
The job is to “find statistics and quotes and case studies, talk over what I’m writing and hunt down sources and stories for me, and keep meticulous notes of all sources in academic format.” For this the lowly researcher will be paid the grand sum of £500 for 85 hours work. As a fearless left-wing campaigner for higher living standards for the workers surely Laurie must know that £5.88 per hour is short of the minimum wage and far from the “living wage” she publicly supports (£7.85). Apparently the job would  “suit someone who is currently out of work, working part-time, or parenting”. What planet is she on that she thinks parents can afford childcare on £5.88 per hour?
Even more controversial than the flouting of minimum wage legislation is her contempt for sexual equality legislation. She clearly states: “I’m probably looking for a female researcher”. The EHRC clearly says: “Stating a preference for a man or woman in a job advertisement is unlawful sex discrimination unless the requirements of the particular job mean that it is lawful to employ only a man or a woman”. Form an orderly queue…
UPDATE : Should point out for the sake of completeness that Penny’s practical understanding of unpaid internships was cushioned by the fact that she was lucky enough to have an inheritance to rely on when she was starting out in the media. Not everyone has that advantage…

MensLib® Update..

This is another comment from the previous post regarding "MensLib ®;", regarding that previous article that I thought had enough merit to warrant it's own post..

Women have it so good and thanks to feminist intervention..

Now we know at least why women have no problem with feminism and heartily promote it or just stay mum while men are being screwed every which way..

Nemo January 18, 2011 

Take two US citizens who are making $20,000 a year and compute the federal income taxes for them. Assume one of them is a divorced man and the other one is his ex-wife with two or three kids.
The man will pay around $1000 in taxes.
The woman will pay no taxes and get at least $8,000 and perhaps as much as $10,000 in money back from the government, depending on how much she pays for child care, which is partially reimbursed by the government.
That’s *just* for filing out a 1040 form.
She also gets neat things like WIC (free money for food), section 8 (housing), Medicaid, etc.
She will probably outlive her ex-husband by perhaps five to seven years and will therefore collect more money from Medicare and Social Security than he will.
Oh, she also gets child support (tax free) and alimony from him.
He ends up paying perhaps 50% of his net income in taxes, CS, and alimony.
She can end up getting her salary close to *doubled* from his CS, his alimony, and tax money taken virtually at gunpoint from male taxpayers whom she has never even met.
The saddest thing of all is that she is much better off after she divorces him. The government is, in effect, rewarding her with thousands of dollars a year for terminating her marriage. God bless America.
After all, of this, she will proudly proclaim herself to be a strong, independent woman who “don’t need no man”.
She is either stupid enough to actually believe this or evil enough to repeat a known lie.

UPDATE..

Maybe even this comment deserves a post of it's own but here it is..

zed January 18, 2011 at 10:03

Men need to become the new virgins. They have no idea how much power they could wield by withholding their sexuality from women.

I have often said that no one has ever ruined his life by practicing sexual restraint.

Men are already withdrawing from women. Much is being made of the recent news that more than a third of Japanese males aged between 16 and 19 have no interest in or are actively averse to sex, according to a government survey.

This won’t affect women much in the short-term sexual market, because they all compete for the men at the top of the attractiveness hierarchy. But, it will be devastating to the marital prospects of average women. Having over 1/3rd of young men simply refuse to play the game is similar to the sex ratio now seen in higher education in the US – which has led to the hookup culture in which competition between women to even have a boyfriend is quite intense.

Add to this toxic mix the staggering statistics regarding Sexually Transmitted diseases. It has been reported here many times that close to 50% of all college-age women have 1 or more STDs. A fellow from the Netherlands reported that in a health class he was taking, the the lifetime risk for a women to get HPV is expected to be 80%.

The old roles really are reversing to some extent – men are becoming gatekeepers when it comes to sex, and women are seeking it more aggressively because their entire power base depends on it. Their loss of the ability to count on men being horny beasts who will pay any price for sex is going to turn out to be a real loss for them.

For more comments see here..

MensLib: Men Need Their Own Liberation Movement..

How's this for an interesting purview..

Personally cannot disagree with the following comment..

Elusive Wapiti
It is high time we men had our liberation movement. Women had theirs about 50 years ago.

For men to see themselves solely as providers for women is current, taken for granted..

Cranky January 18, 2011 at 08:46

“If we are ever to bridge this rift between men and women, we’ll need a spiritual revolution. Men need to see themselves as more than purely material beings. More, even, than purely sexual beings. Because if that’s all we are, we’ll never mean much more to women than a new car.

Perhaps it begins when we – both as individuals and society in general – start to value ourselves for more than what we can provide to women.”

Wisest thing I’ve seen written on this site. Agree 100%. Especially the sexual aspect; men need to become the new virgins. They have no idea how much power they could wield by withholding their sexuality from women.

Yes, withholding sexual favours from women is what Marc Rudov has been suggesting and promoting for some years now as he will tell you "women are more sexual than men", it's just that we refuse to even see it. Women are sexual beings as they are designed for sex, they are the incubators and that does not happen without male intervention as much as they claim to be "life creators", which ofcourse is the big lie..

Go one then, create a life without my intervention, that is apart from some scientific trickery..

Mormon Woman Reflects on Virginity, Exposes Truth about American Men

by W.F. Price on January 18, 2011

Nicole Hardy, a Seattle woman whose essay on being a virgin into her late 30s was recently published in the New York Times, has been thrust into the spotlight through her confessional piece. It is an odd, but undeniable characteristic of contemporary society that the less discreet a woman is the more she is rewarded, so there’s nothing all that special about her sudden rise to prominence. Additionally, a woman who is still a virgin in her 30s is rare, so there’s going to be a lot of interest in her story if she can tell it well.
However, she makes a good point in her essay that even non-Mormons and non-virgins can relate to. In fact, it’s a point that is salient to the plunging marriage rate and the frequency of divorce, and one that applies to men as well as women. While complaining to a friend about her futile attempts at dating, a man approached her and let her know why she had such bad luck in love:

Obviously, I was left over, too — I was just never sure what my problem was. Until one man let me know. After overhearing a friend and me comparing our weekend horror-date stories, he walked up to me and asked, “You know what your problem is?”
No, I did not know what my problem was. And I was dying to find out.
“Your problem,” he said, “is you don’t need a man.”
[...]
“Men in the church are raised to be providers. We are the breadwinners, the stewards of the household. If you have all the things we’re supposed to provide, we have nothing to give you.”
“What of love?” I asked. “What of intimacy and partnership and making a run at the world together?”
“Nope,” he said. “We’re providers.”

After Richard Francis Burton, the famous British linguist and colonial agent, visited Utah and had a talk with Brigham Young, he came to see Mormonism as the quintessentially American religion. Perhaps he was on to something, because the above exchange between a couple Mormons gets right to the root of the problem between American men and women.
We American men are providers. We are breadwinners. That’s our role. Take it away, and we have nothing to offer.
It’s a cultural imperative so deeply ingrained in society that it will take decades to change, if it ever does. The tragedy of contemporary society is that we’ve done such a good job of it that we now provide for all women, and we are almost all unnecessary. The reason the upper middle class still has a low divorce rate is because the old roles work at a certain level of expectations — the well-paid doctor or attorney can provide enough above the norm to preserve his utility. But for the rest of us, we have nothing to offer but a shared domicile, and that’s paltry fare.
If we are ever to bridge this rift between men and women, we’ll need a spiritual revolution. Men need to see themselves as more than purely material beings. More, even, than purely sexual beings. Because if that’s all we are, we’ll never mean much more to women than a new car.
Perhaps it begins when we – both as individuals and society in general – start to value ourselves for more than what we can provide to women.

Queensland Flooding, Before and After..

Here is a range of Photos that show the before and after shots in Brisbane and the other towns affected. Just drag you mouse over the page and it will show the affect..

Before and after Photos of the destruction it has wrought..

Global Warming Hysteria is Hysterical..

I came across this interesting Youtube video today from Fox News discussing the predictions of an Astrophysicist and Meterologist who predicted the current weather anomalies in advance which no other Weather Bureau around this world came even close to predicting. All those publicly funded bureaus followed the global warmist hysteria which ofcourse turned out to be the joke it is. Not predicting reality but just pushing their inane religion..

More the fools them, and if you believe that global warming is a direct response to CO2 than you fall into that same category. I am neither ofcourse (Astrophysicist and Meterologist) but to me the climate question is not a question at all, it's just weather..

At least there are some level heads left in the media who are unafraid to actually tell the truth..

Whorerama©..

I would like to introduce another new euphemism or is that an..

Apart from the NAWATL - "Not All Woman Are Like That"..

a·nal·o·gy

Logic . a form of reasoning in which one thing is inferred to be similar to another thing in a certain respect, on the basis of the known similarity between the things in other respects.

The above is the explanation from Dictionary.com.. 

It's a bit like comparing males to females or just another irrelevant concept that the weeners at Dick.com came up with..

I am going for the latter.. 

Anyway..

Whorerama©..

My input into the ongoing femfest that what we are now tolerating and have been witnessing on the "silver screen" for the last couple of years needs to be addressed..

You know, those 50 kilo females smacking  unconscious 250Kg ex Seals like it's a fluffy toy. Those unbeatable "I can see your ribcage" females slapping all and sundry silly just because the feminised Hollywood wimps "feels" that we should witness that feminised dream-state..

WOW, We wimmyn are just winning that..

Meanwhile, incredulity takes the back seat as we witness more and more of these type of idiotic movies where the female waifs smacks anyone silly as the writers demand..

So where will this end ?

Keep watching that drivel. Keep paying at the box office and they will keep feeding that drivel..

Meanwhile, reality takes a back seat..

By the way ?

Where are those female heroes by the way ?

Seen one lately ? 

Advertising Agencies Project Men as Wimps, as Usual..

I did have to implement my new improved level of gag control, but it was worth it just to witness the level of nausea, how advertisement agencies project all men these days. Any possibility that more women are involved as well as more manginas (ostracised male wimps cow-towing(deliberate miss-spelling by the way) to every female demand)) ?

Wimps tried appeasing women in Sweden many years ago (70's) and the divorce rate hit the roof..

But here we have it..

Mum Plays, Children Die..

I can imagine and have gone through a loss myself, so I can honestly say that it is not pleasant. Mine was beyond my control but this is just pure negligence..

Mother kills child over game..

Child drowns while mother plays Facebook game..

The Fake Facade Created by Women..

This is the first in a series of three excellent videos produced by ManWomanMyth and are seriously well done..

The projected image of women by Hollywood is beyond comprehension and the active methods used by women generally just clearly demonstrates the ongoing lie that the camera tries to portray where women are concerned. I have posted many articles on this subject regarding the facade that women promote in order to manipulate men and their great success in doing so..

These Three videos will open your eyes if they are still fogged over by the alluring female image..

Well worth a look..

ManWomanMyth Site..





Update...

Finally located version 3..

Why is this not regarded as CHILD ABUSE ?

Imagine a male in a room and someone listening outside while this was going on, yet alone the obvious child abuse these women are applying on this little girl..

How far does this have to go before this is declared to be child abuse  ?

Women making money off child abuse as well. So what else is NEW !!

Nothing Like Shagging the Prof. For better Grades..

Reading this ten years ago I would have been mortified, shocked beyond therapy and wishing that it was not my daughter that I had paid for to receive this type of education..

I mean, just strap on a suspender with those fishnet stockings, slap on the makeup and spare everyone else the cost of a Uni. education as we can already see where she is going..

But, no education is complete without banging your Professor..

But it's OKAY, He's CUDDLY..

2 p.m.: Text Professor: A thirtysomething film and history teacher I had last year. He was a fun professor and he’s geeky-cute. He’s in an open marriage and has hooked up with two of my friends, which I find amusing. I like hanging out with him because he always smokes me out and has excellent pot.

8 p.m.: Professor and I are smoking a spliff on his fire escape. I wonder where his wife is currently, but I don’t like to talk about that with him.

9 p.m.: He’s showing me some boring film, and I’m getting antsy. I didn’t come to be lectured on cinematography, I came to get off.

11 p.m.: After being annoyed for about two hours and wondering when he’d make his move, we finally have sex. He’s not a fantastic hookup, but the cuddling afterward is really sweet and affectionate. He spoons me all night, and in my mind I shamelessly pretend he’s J.

Does that not surface as some type of ethical issue in some of the more ethical Universities ?

Was this at Duke ?

The Sexed-Up Student With Plenty of Surrogates But No Real Thing

1/10/11 at 3:25 PM

Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar.

This week, the Sexed-Up Student With Plenty of Surrogates But No Real Thing: Female, student/writer, 21, East Village, single, straight.


DAY ONE

5:30 p.m.: It’s New Year’s Eve, which means I’m frantically trying to groom myself to perfection; rushing to get a mani-pedi and hair blowout all to impress J tonight. J is my adorable best guy friend, and I’ve been harboring an (at times) seemingly pathetic crush on him for about a year. We’ve known each other since freshman year, and we even transferred to the same school together sophomore year. I know he’s into me; he’s said it before, but he’s also said I’m too good for him and he’s scared to be with me. It sounds suspect, but I really don’t feel like this is BS. We’ve hooked up before, but we’ve never had sex. And as cliché and bad eighties movie-ish as it is, I’m hoping that will be rectified tonight, on New Year’s Eve.

10:30 p.m.: Arrive at our mutual friend’s party at her Upper West Side apartment. J is already fairly hammered and failing at beer pong — not surprising, and kind of endearing. I try to catch up to him by chugging a Champagne bottle and whatever else I can get my hands on, which unfortunately includes Four Loko. J has his arm around me in front of all of our friends, and our usual routine of flirtatious banter and teasing commences.

12 a.m.: Receive a very sloppy midnight kiss from J on our friend’s balcony, but I’ll take it. Even when he’s all sweaty and squinty-eyed, he’s irresistible.

3 a.m.: J asks me to go back to his place, and I am almost embarrassed at how eager I am. We hold hands on the walk there and can barely get three steps without kissing. But when we get to his apartment, he’s so out of it and doesn’t even try to kiss me again or make a move, to my dismay.

3:15 a.m.: I’m discouraged, and even all boozed up I can’t be aggressive if he shows no initiative. We’re on his bed spooning, and he’s already passed out, as evidenced by his loud snoring. The room starts spinning, and I’m praying that I don’t get sick on his bed.

3:25 a.m.: There’s no question that I’m about to be sick. Since J is down for the count, I slip out of his apartment, break a heel on the stairs, and then gracefully puke neon green vomit on the street. Screw you, supposedly banned Four Loko! I’m only comforted by the fact that J didn’t witness this fine moment.


DAY TWO

1 p.m.: Wake up vaguely disappointed, but mostly unsure of how to feel about last night. I text J and make up some lame excuse about why I left and insist we should have a redo later today. With my luck and his drinking habits, he probably doesn’t even remember any of last night.

5 p.m.: Still no reply from J. Time to call in the J Replacements, a string of hookup buddies I have in constant rotation to keep myself occupied and feel less pathetic. Who will it be today? Before I can decide, I get a text from Dancer, my friend from high school, asking if I want to go to a party with her at Ballerino’s house in Williamsburg. Ballerino is one of the few straight guys in Dancer’s program at Tisch. She’s been hooking up with Ballerino for a few months, but it’s not serious.

9 p.m.: Ballerino’s loft is covered in graffiti and doesn’t match his lanky, boyish frame and slicked-back hair. I’m amazed at the abuse my body can take after last night: drinking and doing lines of coke off Dancer’s tiny stomach.

10:30 p.m.: I now find myself in Ballerino’s room with Dancer. We’re chasing vodka shots with bites of a peach, and shit gets weird fast. Dancer and I rub the peach on Ballerino’s chest and joke about tying Ballerino up. The joke soon becomes a reality. We take ties from his closet to blindfold him and bind his hands. Dancer slaps him, and I duct tape his arm, then rip it off. Shockingly, I think he likes it as much as we do because he is not complaining. We torture him for a bit longer, and, honestly, I feel demonically cheerful.

11 p.m.: We figure we’ve put the guy through enough so we untie him. We’re triple kissing, and Ballerino guides my hand down to his pathetically small erection. Even though that turns me off, I’ll never leave a guy hard. Dancer and I take turns giving him a hand job and eventually head.

11:10 p.m.: There’s something scarily erotic about this; I don’t know how far I want to go. Ballerino cums on my chest, and disgust swiftly sets in. As I expected, Ballerino is a harmless, benign guy who doesn’t have the balls to push for a full-on threesome; he’s happy with what he got. I’m grateful for that. I know that J would be horrified by this escapade. What a way to start off 2011.


DAY THREE

11 a.m.: J still hasn’t answered my text, and I’m debating whether or not to text him again. I don’t want him to think I'm clingy or that I care too much, so I muster up self-control and refrain.

11:30 a.m.: The residual joy I feel from emasculating Ballerino and mildly hurting him with the duct tape has me feeling guilty. I’d like to think that I found so much pleasure in torturing him because I was able to lose myself for a moment and forget about J.

2 p.m.: Text Professor: A thirtysomething film and history teacher I had last year. He was a fun professor and he’s geeky-cute. He’s in an open marriage and has hooked up with two of my friends, which I find amusing. I like hanging out with him because he always smokes me out and has excellent pot.

8 p.m.: Professor and I are smoking a spliff on his fire escape. I wonder where his wife is currently, but I don’t like to talk about that with him.

9 p.m.: He’s showing me some boring film, and I’m getting antsy. I didn’t come to be lectured on cinematography, I came to get off.

11 p.m.: After being annoyed for about two hours and wondering when he’d make his move, we finally have sex. He’s not a fantastic hookup, but the cuddling afterward is really sweet and affectionate. He spoons me all night, and in my mind I shamelessly pretend he’s J.


DAY FOUR

10 a.m.: Wake up to Professor fingering me, and I orgasm, which makes up for me faking it last night. We smoke again, have pretty good morning sex, and then he makes me breakfast; a good start to the day. If he was taller and wasn’t married, Professor might be relationship material.

12 p.m.: On the way home from Professor’s I see something that reminds me of an inside joke J and I have. I cave and text J. Our friendship has gotten really strained since we’ve been hooking up, or whatever this would classify as, and that’s not what I wanted.

12:05 p.m.: I’m so happy J answered, even though it’s a very short response and no conversation is sparked.

8:30 p.m.: Get crepes for dinner with my best friend, L, in the East Village.

8:40 p.m.: Notice that the creepy, beastly waiter grazes my hand a bit too long after putting my silverware down. Ignore it. L is telling me about her latest rendezvous with a handsome ibanker who is eerily reminiscent of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho. After they had sex, he felt guilty he didn’t have the usual American Express gift card to pay for her cab home, so he offered her a Dunkin Donuts gift card worth $250 that he’d bought for himself. L asked why he had so much money on it, and he sneeringly replied, “Well, have you had their coffee?” I say if he likes that watered-down crap, then clearly he’s a psycho. No further proof needed.

8:50 p.m.: I tell L about my almost-threesome because that’s easier to talk about than my NYE failure with J. Creepy waiter brings us free sangria, then seductively tugs L’s hair and makes no apologies. That’s it, we’re out of here.

1 a.m.: Fantasize about J proposing to me at our graduation and actually get teary. I can really see this happening; it feels so real.

1:20 a.m.: After my elaborate fantasy, I get a bit nauseated with myself, and on the heels of L’s story about her psycho hookup, I wonder what my own psycho hookup is up to. I text him and we plan to meet tomorrow.


DAY FIVE

6:30 p.m.: My hot Psycho is not an ibanker, but rather an aspiring novelist and ex-rugby player. I’m pissed that he wants to meet at a café near Soho for dessert, instead of taking me out to dinner, but I don’t object.

9:30 p.m.: There he is, waiting outside, tall and muscular and on mescaline. He scares me a little, but that’s what I like about him. He tells me that he’s now living in a monastery near Gramercy Park, so he can’t bring girls there. Shockingly, this is not the weirdest thing he’s ever told me. I picture him smoking a blunt in a red velvet robe, staring out of stained-glass windows, so absurdly perfect for Psycho.

9:30 p.m.: Psycho asks me if I’d have anal sex with him. I grimace. He tries to entice me with mint-flavored lube. I don’t know why he thinks that will change my mind. Despite this stupid conversation, Psycho’s still looking really good to me.

9:45 p.m.: Public bathroom sex at the café. It’s exciting but I’m also paranoid, and he wants to film it on his phone, but I refuse. The sex lasts only for about five minutes. SO not worth it, but to him it was amazing; must be the mescaline, or the fact that he’s just a psycho.

10:15 p.m.: Psycho makes me split the check. Is he kidding?! I need to get new replacements for my Replacements.


DAY SIX

3 p.m.: L texts me to say she heard that J is seriously dating a Muppet look-alike. I’m crushed and confused, but I guess that explains why he didn’t try to sleep with me on New Year’s. I text J saying we need to talk; he owes me that.

5 p.m.: So depressed about J. I get high in my room and pull out my vibrator and get off to the bondage threesome I almost experienced for real a few days ago. Three amazing orgasms later and I feel a little better.


DAY SEVEN

2 p.m.: Ex-bf from high school, Wannabe Rockstar, texts me saying he’s back for a few days and wants to meet for dinner. He’s been on tour in Europe for a few months with his hipster band. We haven’t been official since high school, but we still hook up whenever he’s around.

7:30 p.m.: Not sure if I want to have sex with Wannabe Rockstar, since he always gets mushy and talks about old times, but I’ll put on my sexy lace boyshorts anyway.

8:15 p.m.: Dinner is boring. Even with his slight success, Wannabe Rockstar’s still dull and vain. His compliments boost my deflated ego, but not enough to turn me on.

9 p.m.: I decide not to have sex with him just to fill a void. Feel mature, but also lonely. I still say yes to getting drinks after dinner, but just for free booze.

11 p.m.: How have I put up with him for so long? He keeps saying how drunk he is. He then says his parents are home but we can still “hang out” in his room. Not enticing at all. I don’t even want to kiss Wannabe Rockstar.

11:05 p.m.: I decline, and on the brisk walk home, I can’t stop thinking about J and wondering what I could’ve done differently. Still haven’t heard from J; don’t think our friendship will recover from this mess. I’m pissed we never even got to have sex; what a disgrace.


TOTALS: Three acts of intercourse, one aborted threesome, one act of masturbation, and one sloppy NYE kiss.

Edited by: Rachel Kramer Bussel




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