Men get a good name. If women only knew what faggots the majority of us are, they’d drop all pretense of demands for “gender equality” and thank that bitch God that She ain’t attach to them this additional 2-12 inches of all-too-often unnecessary flesh.
This shit sucks. When it’s in use, it’s not so bad, but when it’s not in use, which is far too frequently for most of us, it’s like being Dale Carnegie on a deserted island; no friends to win, nobody to influence, nothing.
And yeah, men are miserable, that’s why we go to such lengths to fuck with women. We just wanna be loved, is that so wrong? And we’re pathetic about that shit. And we start way earlier than ya’ll so fuck it.
Ask any chick when she first got her heart broken, she’ll say high school or college. Ask any dude? He’ll say, “Like, 4 years-old.” There was some girl in pigtails or dreadlocks or with a blonde weave and when we just wanted to walk her home or share our ice cream cone or hold her hand, she was like, “No!”
And that “no” was emphatic. And that “no” closed the door on a lot of opportunities and possibilities. Most guys never forget that first “no”. I know I haven’t.
So, with homelessness right around the corner, and more inevitable than death – I mean, who’s to say I’m ever gonna die? I haven’t done it yet – I’m at McDonalds, getting my free wifi on, sipping my $1.09 coffee and reading the NY Daily News online. Seems like there’s some kinda fucking Fight Club app about to pop off.
I’m thinking, “Did these kids ever see the movie, let alone read the book?” I mean, the movie makes it clear the but the book makes it explicitly clear, that the only reason the unnamed hero doubles himself and starts a fight club is because of Marla Singer. If he’d had the balls to cop Marla Singer straight up, there’d have been no need to…
Whatever. I shake my head and move on to the next topic. Now I’m looking to get more traffic to this here site of mine. So I’m scouring Reddit. Amazingly enough, I noticed I’ve been prohibited from ever posting again on the feminism subred (“Why White Women Hate Black Women” musta hit too close to home), then I stumble across something called TheRedPill.
I sat transfixed, reading, for like the next 45 minutes. I had other shit to do, but fuck it. Those toilets could wait to be cleaned.
I remembered PUAs or “Pick Up Artists” from that time I’d read Neil Strauss’ “The Game“. I’d heard about the Male Rights Movement because my email group posts all sorts of absurd shit that people around the globe be doing and I’d categorized those freaks right alongside other pathetic masochists that are so buoyed by their own weird pain that they’ve elevated their suffering to the level of being a “condition”.
I forgot not only that some of us never get over our first “no” but more importantly, for some of us, every subsequent “no” has echos of that first one. There’s a place of pain each “no” returns you to, and if you’re not careful, you can get used to that pain. You can begin to begin to believe that pain to be natural and that you should expect to feel it.
Suddenly, I had another thought, perhaps inspired by my own long schneid or maybe even my RedPill reading; pussy isn’t just gonna get itself.
Then my day began.