Saturday, 9 March 2013

Not Everyone Is Cut Out for the Game


Hijacking the hamster, Francis Begbie style. Red dress, with sparkles, curves beautifully accentuated, Northern Irish, shortish black hair. Solid 7 in my book. She's in her late twenties or thereabouts, sitting on the bed. The phone in my pocket vibrates. Feck off ken. We've been making out the past ten minutes, but no entry as of yet. Some last minute resistance ken but that's ok. I kiss her neck gently, regurgitate Roissy's whole "I agree" bit, and briefly pull away, look into her eyes and say:

"Hey, look, in my experience, the best moments in life are when you just have to grab life, embrace it, and just go with the flow of things. Some of the best experiences, the best relationships I've seen in other people, always start off like this. This feels right. Otherwise, we just end up regretting everything"

"mmnnn yeah..."

"..."

"..."

"Francis?"

"..."

"Are you going to fuck me?"

"..."

"Take off your dress, and lie down."

We have her won over. She wants it. 

Somewhere along the way, something happened to the hamster that made it sick, maligno hamsteridoo. Half an hour prior to all of this, we're talking, drinking, and the red flags are just piling up on top of each other like de hangover from hell. It's the little things, the tumors that can only come from the alienation of modern life. The estranged relationship with the parents? Check. The career girl showing me dem credentials, the kind of occupation that makes one want to reenact the movie Falling Down, Irish sthyylle? Another mark against her there. Her tirades on wanting to go traveling and finding herself. The overweight dog, Chuzzles with the maimed leg who shares her bed. The drawer full of condoms. Saving up all the fucken moolah in order to construct a hot tub in the back, filling the void, one spray of wate at a time. Fuck, we're lying on the mattress, and there's black dog hair in my mouth. She laughs and I smile back. What is she thinking, how does she feel about all of this? Mechanical man. I prop her up, pulling down her panties and spank her across the back of her ass. She cries out, and I put my hands on her hips...

Girl gets told lies. Girl goes nuts in university. Girl is now a fading flower on the frail and is just that little bit loopity de loop as a result. Her ass is firm. Her cunt is tight. Her eyes, dead windows to the ends of the universe it me sees, small eyes, but widely spaced, the lassie aging from the face down, crows feet, easy to see, it always starts with dem crows feet dunnit? I told her I'm in my 30s, not de 22. We've only known each other a few hours...

She's asleep now. I'm trying to fuck off toos de land of nod as well, but I can't. What we had wasn't really much fun truth be told. I mean, it was pleasurable and all, but there was something off about the whole thing truth be told. Guys dat get a few lassies around their fingers, and then fucken boom it seems, they've got the confidence, the zing, the vivacity, the hunger. I feel nothing from any of this. Not a goddamn thing. No joy, no pleasure, no sadness, no depression, just nothin. No words/no thoughts. Fuck. There's a dull dead light in the room as a car light briefly illuminates the room. I see her eyes look into mine. She's got this lost kind of look. We're locked. Those crow's feet again. She buries her face in my chest and murmers something. I can only smile. Yet, we both know how this is going to end. We'll wake up tomorrow. She'll blather on about one of her friends being a bitch and we'll exchange numbers and go on our way and subsequently delete that shite and surprise surprise of the fucking millenium, she'll get some other lad to give it to her up the shitter in another club and I'll just keep on trucking and nothing is any the better. The more things change, the more they stay the same ken. She mumbles something and seems to be having a nightmare. She wakes up and does the same thing again.

I'm losing something here. Something intrinsic in myself. I don't know what. But something is definitely changing, going on in the old noggin here, and I don't have a goddamn idea what the fuck it is. I'm inexperienced, I'm a kid, I'll conceit, and if this be sounding emo and shit, I wholly apologize. But to the lads that have been in the business for a long while, do you know what I'm talking about here? Feels just raw, inchoate, fresh. Not bad, just weird. Distant. It's hard to put into words and action, language can only get a man so far after all. My personality seems to be changing. Franco fucken unchained. And I'm not sure if I'm particularly enjoying the process to be perfectly honest with yous.

I guess the best way of describing it is to use the whole idea of the internet as a form of vicarious enjoyment. Constructing your own Tyler Durden is not a particularly strange thing to do admittedly, that is what the internet is for many of us, as you create and tinker with the person you sort of want to be. You are not the office worker, or the pasty faced blob of fat, or the videogame nerd, yous are the fucking guy, the top dog with legions of sycophants, you are de legend and de key to de woirlde is in your hands. Francis Begbie is a sociopath, a crazy cunt, an irreverent twat, the kind of sick fuck who glasses wee lassies to get himself off on a Friday night, and treats his mates like pieces of shite, he is not, in any shape or form, an introverted, quiet university student who still hangs around with the fucken dummy cast of The Big Bang Theory from time to time. This is hard to express and I'm not sure if I'm articulating it very well. So I'll stop here.

At least this one didn't have wee bairns pulling at her apron.  

Nae cunt is cut out for this without de change. Somethings going to give, sparkles in the lens and feelings en whatnot all burned up in a great conflagration. She's not fooling anybody and neither am I.

10 comments:

  1. Brother you've reached the peak of what a man can be and in a couple of words, "it sucks" My girl is about all that I could want and she called me today at my rural property to tell me that she got her hair highlighted and cut the way I like it. My response? Meh. There's nothing left for men like us other than trying to educate our kids which my twelve year old isn't much into listening to but at least she listens a bit.
    "And I'm not sure if I'm particularly enjoying the process to be perfectly honest with yous."
    I've been going through this for the last decade and I'll agree, it is a horrible process to go through. I'm not sure it's worth it.
    But it's something I have to do.

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    1. I'm not sure it sucks, it's just very very sobering. Or maybe, there is a biological aspect there, in that, some men are able to do this kind of thing without feeling empty, feeling sorry that a particularly girl might be lonely or headed for spinsterhood/unsatisfying marriage with beta chump and damaged kids. I'm not sure if I can, or if I can, something big has to give, somewhere along the ling.

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  2. Were you genuinely attracted to this girl, both physically and mentally, before you fucked her? Or were you simply shagging her because you felt like you expected it of yourself, throwing another ho at the chasm in your self-esteem, as I used to do?

    If the answer is the latter, and not the former, then it is not surprising that you felt that way afterwards. Every time we sleep with girls we are not genuinely attracted to, or for the wrong reasons, it puts a small stain on our souls (or inner game if you will). Christ, mine's probably so stained by now it'd look like when they shine a blacklight on the gents' toilet.

    The good news is that ultimately, you won't need to sleep with girls you don't genuinely like any more in order to try and feel good about yourself. The bad news, at least in my case, was that it took a decade to get there, and I had to put in my time in the trenches.

    Each conquest, each new girl temporarily alleviated my malaise, but it always came back. The only thing that made a real difference was genuine, measurable self improvement in all areas of my life - appearance, health, strength, lifestyle, social circle, and the corresponding increase in quality of women that came with it.

    Eventually, I realised that somewhere along the line I'd become happy with myself, and I've not had an unfulfilling hookup with a random 7 since.

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    1. Definitely more of the latter than the former. I mean, she was attractive, but you could tell, talking to her, that she was perfectly set up for spinsterhood and just seemed quite lonely in general. That feeling was quite depressing.

      Another part of it is that in the past while, I've done things with women that, if I was to say have a girlfriend/wife and found out that she did the exact thing with another guy, and I wanted to have a family, I simply wouldn't be able to trust her. It's weird, I enjoy being around women more, but I respect them less, and I am also trusting them less and less it seems. This is what I meant referring to the dark side, the more I do this, the less likely I'll be able to simply trust people.

      I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

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  3. Whoops, commented under the wrong profile, that was me!

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  4. This shit happens. Life goes on. I couldn't tell you how many times I've woken up in the bed of a woman I didn't give a shit about and tried to sneak out and head to work. If she wakes up, I always pretend I want to see her again soon. We exchange numbers. I give her a fake one. If I just met this chick and she fucked me, I would never want to have any kind of relationship with her, not even friendship. I got what I wanted, I'm out.

    That's why I'm in a LTR now. I took my girl out a few times and spent a good bit of time together before we did the deed. If she put me, the wealthy, good looking alpha through several dates before giving it up, I figure she is fairly decent. We've been together almost 2 years now and all is good.

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    1. Two years? That's great! I was fucking retarded enough to send out a real number last time. She didnae reply though, so it is all good.

      Yeah, I'm similar. You just lose respect for the lassie if it is that quick to be honest. Though this is a first time thing for myself. By Vox's defi, I'm a sort of recovering delta male.

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  5. I'm trying to find the source for where I've heard it, but I've heard that the more times someone (man or woman) has sex with different people, the harder it is to emotionally bond through sex.

    Or something to that effect. It's been awhile, and I'm trying to find the source. I'm pretty sure it was a reliable source, and not just one of those "well I heard it from some bloke at the pub who was shitfaced on a Tuesday afternoon" kinds of sources.

    Either way, this is probably what you're experiencing.

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    1. Makes sense anyway. Thing is though, I'm essentially a delta nerd who discovered game a year and a bit ago. I'm not a player fella by any level. So if that is true, it is happening very quickly.

      Do you know what that paper said in relation to love and a particular lassie? Interests me anyway.

      Delete