Oneitis: Redemption and Rebirth

Tonight I saw a movie about a man with crippling Oneitis, and I did so on a date with a girl who has troubled me of late with my own crippling Oneitis.

The movie was The Great Gatsby, and the girl was The Fritalian.

Gatsby

****

From Urban Dictionary:

Oneitis: Often confused with love, this is the feeling that a particular woman is actually special. This is just an illusion; she is the same as the other three or so billion. “Go fuck ten other women” is the most commonly prescribed treatment for this “disease” (hence the “itis”), as it tends to show quite quickly how very alike people are. 

****

I knew it was over before it even began.

I had accepted the fact that I should move on from The Fritalian, and sever all ties. But after being aloof and mostly ignoring her texts for a few days, she sent me a long message saying she thought we should “talk about things” and that she was wondering how I felt.

I called her an hour later, and told her I had had time to digest what we talked about, and I felt fine about continuing to see her in a casual way. We agreed that we’d get together later in the week, probably Wednesday or Thursday.

She had a one-day business trip on Tuesday, and I texted her that afternoon to ask how it was going.

Dagonet (Tuesday 5:35 PM): How’s (city)?

Fritalian (5:36 PM): At the airport about to head home. Phone gona die. Text u when I land.

Dagonet (5:37 PM): Ok have a good flight

Fritalian (8:23 PM): Home yay:) how’s your week?

Dagonet (8:27 PM): I’m good. walking into the (redacted) party at the (redacted) right now

Fritalian (8:29 PM): Enjoy

Dagonet (8:50 PM): Thanks :)

Dagonet (8:51 PM): If tmrw works that should be good for me

Fritalian (9:11 PM): Lets check in tom. Too much on my mind right now to commit.

****

Her text bummed me out, and sent me back into the spiral of reading into it and assuming I should feel pathetic and rejected– emotions that I haven’t felt since my breakup with Longterm four years ago.

It’s just part of my default emotional makeup, stemming all the way back to my childhood, when I saw my Mom leave my Dad on an abandoned street corner in Manhattan the day we moved him out of our house in the suburbs.  In these moments, I’m my Dad– or at least, the version of him I made up in my head that day.

For all I know, as soon as we were out of sight, my Dad jumped for joy, headed to the nearest bar, and picked up the hottest girl there to celebrate. It might’ve been the best day of his life.

****

I debated what to do after I saw the Fritalian’s text. I already had a sinking feeling deep within me; I knew that I had played my hand once more, and seemed too invested. She was pulling back again, repulsed by the attentive, caring person I had become with her. How disgusting I was!

Dagonet (Wednesday 10:59 AM): Its all good. are you talking about our situation or life in general?

Fritalian (10:59 AM): life

Fritalian (11:00 AM): there’s new drama with the house

(Her parents were trying to buy a vacation home, and there had been spirited negotiations for weeks to close it.)

Fritalian (11:01 AM): work is endless. i just want time to workout and make myself lunch. sigh :(

She was reminding me of someone… Me. When I was making up excuses to avoid seeing a girl I didn’t want to bang anymore. The sinking feeling deepened. Signs pointed to the fact that she might already be banging a new dude.

And for the record, when she would text me in happier times, she would always capitalize her sentences and write in perfect grammar.

Dagonet (11:20 AM): This house is a like a soap opera haha

Fritalian (11:22 AM): it gives me a headache and my mom gets SO crazy… [this continued in 4 very long text messages about the situation with the vacation house]

Dagonet (11:43 AM): That is pretty fuckin annoying

Fritalian (11:43 AM): it’s unbelievable

Dagonet (12:31 PM): Did you see gatsby yet?

Fritalian (12:32 PM): i haven’t. you?

Dagonet: (12:34 PM): No, i want to see it this week

Fritalian (12:35 PM): i really want to see it too and in 3D

At this point, I discuss with her that she should get us hooked up for a screening that night through her job. I can’t really say anything further about what she does, but she can get movie tickets whenever she wants them.

We discuss what night and settle on seeing a 10 PM screening on this very night.

Fritalian (1:18 PM): booking it

Dagonet (1:19 PM): Sweet

****

Then the plot thickens, and she indicates even more clearly that she is structuring the entire night to avoid having sex with me.

Fritalian (2:13 PM): so i’m thinking I should work late and go to your place from here so we can drive together but then not stay over tonight.

Dagonet (2:15 PM): Thats fine. should be home by like 8

Fritalian (2:16 PM): k

****

So at this point, I realize that she has checked out to a large degree. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I figure we can just have one night of normalcy, even if we don’t have sex, and see if that makes us more comfortable to keep seeing each other in the future. After the emotional conversation we had the last time we were together, which felt very much like a breakup, it might take a night or two to smooth things over.

I also considered just cutting the whole thing off and canceling, since I realized how stressed this was making me. It was wrenching my heart to keep dealing with the uncertainty surrounding her.

Before she got to my place– late enough that we wouldn’t have time to have sex before we had to leave– I had already resigned myself to the fact that this would almost definitely be the last time we’d see each other.

****

I texted with Danger & Play a little bit before she got to my place.

Dagonet: This fritalian thing is really fucking with me. think i need to sever all ties

Dagonet: Seeing her tonight, im sure that will inform my decision

D&P: It’s always weird when you have feelings for a chick. Are you jonesing for her or just looking to move on?

Dagonet: Think i just want to be done with it at this point. the limbo is stressing me out. id enjoy continuing to bang but at this point my ego is too bruised and i think she has lost most of her attraction

D&P: Cancel.

D&P: Tell her a work meeting came up.

D&P: Reclaim your power.

D&P: Don’t explain or go into details or sound gay. Just a simple, “Shit. Work duty calls. Let’s meet up some other time.”

Dagonet: Too late but at least im getting a free 3D movie

D&P: Hah. Well then the move is to not talk about anything. Just leave things unresolved. That will fuck with her head. Closure is a myth anyway

Dagonet: Agreed

****

We chilled at my place for a little while. I joked and made her laugh, but the silence was deafening. A pall hung over us. It seemed we had crossed the Rubicon, and weren’t coming back.

I kissed her, pulled her on top to straddle me, but after a few moments of half-hearted caressing, she rolled back off me with a sigh.

The movie was really good.

I held her hand for part of it. She held mine back, but instead of warm comfort, it felt somewhat alien. Like holding a stranger’s hand, making me more aware of the way our fingers were intertwining or not, and the way my hand was laying against her leg.

I watched Jay Gatsby build himself up from nothing and then tear himself down.

All for the obsession with Daisy– his Rosebud, his grail, his savior. His One True Love.

I don’t know if the movie was a tribute to tragic, hopeless love or a cautionary tale against it, but it made me reflect on the human being sitting next to me– a girl who I had so many emotions tied up in, but now lacked any passionate connection with, any present and vital chemistry. She was inert, like radon.

I saw myself on screen, spiraling into psychosis and losing touch with reality in pursuit of a dream that had so clearly died in days past.

We drove home, tired, mostly in silence. As we got in the elevator from my parking garage, she said “I’m gonna go home now.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t attempt to talk about anything related to our status.

In the past I would have, but I knew it was futile.

I walked her out. I kissed her, and she half-heartedly kissed me back.

I let her go.

****

I’m not against love, and I’m not against relationships.

It’s good that this one fell apart, because she was not the right girl for me to get into a long relationship with. She’s in her 30s, and I have so much life, sex, and career to tackle in my immediate future.  I would have been settling for a comfortable romance, and sacrificing the chance to make myself truly great– just as Jay Gatsby admitted he had done.

Perhaps lightning will strike again and I’ll find a girl worth settling down with for a little while. The idea of saving all the time I spend texting, talking to, drinking with, and fucking girls definitely seemed appealing… but it surely would’ve been replaced with perfunctory date nights, hanging with her annoying friends, trips to her parents’ house, and other soul-crushing obligations of a relationship.

The grass is always greener, and all that.

****

The lessons we can take away from this goddamn mess of an experience:

Don’t keep forcing yourself into a situation that makes you sad.

Don’t put yourself around a girl that causes you to become a worse version of yourself.

Do move on, and continue to be around girls that honor the fully-realized version of yourself without resistance, and actually strengthen the frame you want to present to the world and operate within.

There is no more beautiful thing than a fresh start, and a new girl falling enchanted under your spell for the first time.

It is the promise of infinite hope.

****

And for now, there is no more to say about or to The Fritalian.

Women are more in touch with the emotional landscape of human interaction than men, and she certainly felt all the vibes I did, with even stronger resonance.

She received the signal loud and clear, so there is no reason for me to say anything further. We both know it is time to truly reclaim our own space now, to go our own separate ways.

So let’s raise a glass for The Fritalian’s curtain call. She gave me 5 months of good sex, cool parties with great hors d’oeuvres, an awesome playlist of songs that I can still fuck other girls to, and a touch of classiness and taste influencing my humble bachelor’s life. Also some stylish socks and cufflinks– which I will wear with deep appreciation, while picking up new girls to bang in the future.

And now, without further adieu, the Quest continues toward its roaring conclusion…

Posted in Challenges, Philosophy | 26 Comments

It Was A Huge Relief

Two weeks ago, I told my boss I’ve been feeling burned out, and starting to wonder whether this job is for me.

It was a decision I’d been grappling with for weeks, maybe even months, and I finally took the risk of telling him about my unease with my future at the company. It took a lot of courage, because I didn’t know what it would do to our relationship and my standing at the company. But the burden of holding in these feelings was crippling me.

He said that if I hit the wall and decided I wanted out, he and the owner of the company would help me find my next gig.

It was a huge relief.

****

Two days later, I heard about a job I wanted. It would be working for the head writer/producer of a TV show, a job which often leads directly to becoming a writer yourself.

The problem was, my boss dealt with this particular producer on a regular basis, and there was no way I could reach out without my boss knowing.

I decided it wasn’t meant to be, and tried to continue on with busines as usual. But the feeling that I was missing out on an opportunity gnawed at me. Every small issue in my job made me furious, and I felt like a caged animal.

After delaying a few days, I finally grew some balls and told my boss about the position I wanted.

He said okay, and got me an interview by directly reaching out to the producer.

It was a huge relief.

****

But that same day, I got a text from The Fritalian– a girl who I haven’t written very much about on this blog.

She is a cute, curvy and stylish 31-year-old light brunette, who I’ve grown quite close to over the past 5 months. Although she has invited me to multiple public galas and introduced me to her friends, she’s never “had the talk” with me about becoming exclusive… which I always found strange, but couldn’t put my finger on.

She writes a lifestyle blog, and is a marketing manager for an entertainment company. She is the very proud owner of 2 cats.

Throughout most of my time with The Fritalian– a term that is derived from her French and Italian ancestry– I was aloof and confident. I actually didn’t think much about elevating her status beyond a standard hookup situation.

But the last few weeks, I started feeling more strongly about the time we spent together. She would cook me dinner, we would watch our favorite TV shows.

In retrospect, I let my guard down a bit prematurely, and started letting beta tendencies slip through. This may have been partially caused by the things I was feeling about my job, and the tumultuous changes I foresaw on the horizon.

The texts I got from her on this fateful day (responding to me trying to make plans for the night) were her saying that we should meet in a bar, and that she “felt that we should talk about things.”

My heart sank when I read it, because I knew that only bad news would be given to me if she wanted to meet in a bar.

All day I dreaded whatever talk she was going to give me. I held out hope that it was an ultimatum that we be exclusive or it was over– something I had experience dealing with, and was confident I could overcome. Plus I was starting to consider saying yes to a relationship with her anyway.

I got to her house, after my emotionally exhausting day of discussing the potential new job with my boss, and getting the interview set up (which wasn’t quite as quick and easy as I made it seem above) and we sat down on her couch.

“So, what’s this big talk you want to have?” I asked.

“Well, lately it seems like you’ve been feeling more like we are a couple, and hinting at a future together. And for me, that isn’t what I want with you.”

“Okay…”

“I just feel like we’re in different places right now. I’m thinking very seriously about the ‘Forever’ thing. I don’t see you as the person I’m going to marry, so I think we should dial it back between us.”

It definitely stung. Looking back on the situation, I opened myself up to it by acting beta and giving her room to question things, and doubt my strength. That was all she needed to get spooked and revert back to her single, fabulous, Sex & The City default mode.

From the other perspective, everything she was saying was true, and I couldn’t argue with it. It just frustrated me that I had fallen for this girl too early (probably due to my stress) and it had cost me the very positive aspects of having this girl in my life.

She said I was still very special to her, and she wasn’t saying we shouldn’t see each other at all. But it became clear to her in this conversation that I felt very emotional about the situation. I said some alpha things and some beta things, but I might have been too hurt by her pseudo-rejection to recover from.

It’s shocking to me, because we had bonded very closely and shared many intimate (sexual and nonsexual) moments, having seen each other about twice a week for 5 months.

But our conversation revealed facets of her personality I had been exposed to but didn’t realize I was seeing earlier. I always thought she was cool, but now I saw that it was a form of coldness she possessed. A detached pragmatism that came with her age, coupled with the hubris of her being an only child. She truly believed that her clothes and her cool apartment decorating were the things of value in her life.

Whenever things got highly emotional in our conversation, she would have a cat lady psycho freakout and start baby-talking to one of her cats nearby. It was a little repulsive. I’m sure you can all unpack that psychologically.

The fact that I’m poor compared to her, and that I was contemplating switching jobs definitely played a part in her deciding I wasn’t “the One.” But none of that matters as long as you keep turning her on and making her feel good feelings around you. I stopped that at the wrong time, and to too great an extent.

I composed myself eventually and we said goodnight. I didn’t know if I would be able to see her again, since after becoming emotionally invested, I didn’t know if I could go back to just banging her, without my ego trying to make her “fall” for me, and desperately looking for hints of committment to validate myself.

I’ll give it a few days, I’ll bang other girls, etc.

But right now it hurts.

Regardless, I had been nervous all day about speaking to her, and the conversation was over.

It was a huge relief.

****

On Monday morning, I woke up already shaking from nerves about my interview. I took a shit before breakfast, and another right after. The soft, nervous type of shit, where your stomach feels queasy.

I re-read my own post, “Game and the Art of the Job Interview,” and got myself in a good mental state.

The adrenaline was pumping, but I held it together and had a great interview. As I had already learned from my boss, this producer had pretty much found the person he wanted to hire already, but he agreed to meet me as a favor before he made his decision.

Nonetheless, he informed me that I had impressed him, and it was now going to be a much harder decision.

I got to my car, took off my tie and started driving through the sunny California afternoon.

It was a huge relief.

****

The next day-and-a-half at the office was a little tense. Everyone knew I had interviewed, so we didn’t know if I’d get the call that I was leaving at any moment.

It was hard for me to concentrate on work. I kept thinking about how much better my commute would be, and hoping that the pay would be comparable.

At the same time, I was fretting because I knew realistically, the odds were that I wasn’t getting the job, due to the fact that the guy hiring had already had a choice in mind. During my interview, he basically said that the other person already had experience in this exact capacity, while I did not.

Around 5 PM on Tuesday afternoon, I got the call on my cell phone. The producer thanked me again for coming in, reiterated he was impressed by me, but apologized and explained he was going with his initial choice. He assured me he was going to pass my resume around and help me make the transition toward a writing-track job. I thanked him, and we hung up.

I didn’t get the gig, but I also didn’t have to stress anymore about whether I’d get it and have to make arrangements to change my life.

It was a huge relief.

****

A week full of tensions and releases has left me feeling fried. I still feel like my future is up in the air, and I’m feeling very lonely and sad in some ways. Probably just due to exhaustion.

As I was sitting at home tonight feeling these things, I started to think about how I’ve handled periods of great stress in the past.

The one thing I kept thinking was “blog about it.”

That’s when I came online and told this story on my blog.

It was a huge relief.

Posted in Challenges, Game, Philosophy | 14 Comments

Identify Your Objective

The day I decided I wanted to sleep with lots of women was the day I started developing the skill set.

Until then, for what was the vast majority of my life, I felt only a vague mix of lust, guilt, love and fear. I knew sort of what I wanted from women, but I had a passive attitude and was waiting for them (and “The Universe”) to show me the way.

Once I allowed myself to 100% identify my goal– to become a man who could easily and masterfully sleep with many women– the rest fell into place quickly. All my reading, observing, and actions worked toward a shared goal, one unified worldview and self-conception. Each lesson and practice reinforced the others in a positive feedback loop.

All the diverse and seemingly random experiences I was having in my life could be related back in some way to game, constantly creating another useful piece of information for me to absorb and use, Mega Man-style.

****

I often meet people who respect me, and identify me as an intelligent person who seems to have a unique set of skills.

However, I’m often at a loss when they ask me about my career. I don’t know how to tell them that I feel disatisfied and aimless in my current job. When they ask me if I see myself doing this forever, I cringe at the thought.

****

The real problem, though, is that I draw a complete blank when someone asks me what I really want to do career-wise.

I honestly don’t know.

There are many possibilities, and I haven’t found any yet that truly speaks to me.

At a certain point it would behoove me to just pick something arbitrarily and start working my way toward the goal. Anything is better than sitting still.

****

I know that, like most of you reading this, I do not want to be stuck behind a desk 40-50 hours a week, groveling just to take a vacation day.

I don’t want to be slaving away for someone who doesn’t really care if I live or die, just that I make quota.

I want to make a living using one of my passions, feeling that I am doing truly useful work that helps people, and enhances this world rather than diminishing it, as so many corporations do.

I want to control my own destiny.

****

I moved west to become a writer, and as this blog displays, I still have a deep urge to express myself and what I’m seeing in the world today, and share it with others.

This leads me to believe that the best course of action is to identify “WRITER” as my goal.

If I commit to this objective, dedicating myself to it by taking a leap of faith, I will see a dramatic increase in my productivity and my life will begin to change, an amorphous blob subtly being molded into a new form.

As with game, I can begin looking at the world through the lens of a writer, and everything I see and do can inform that. It doesn’t feel like obligatory research when you can see a deeper goal ahead of you.

****

Once you identify your objective, you must become intensely process-based (rather than results-based).

Perfecting your process should be its own reward. Tangible results will come in their own time and are largely out of your control.

By perfecting your process and skills toward your objective, you will greatly increase the odds of catching a future break or getting the tangible results and rewards that comprise success.

****

When I wanted to get good with girls, all that I cared about was studying and practicing. The hookups came at times, and provided additional boosts to fuel my endeavor. But the rejections and the dry spells were also present, and I ignored them to focus on my process.

Of course, when I had my successes, I also ignored them in a sense and did not let them derail me from continuing to hone my process.

If you want to be great at something, you need to keep working toward it forever. There is no end until death or maybe retirement.

That is our lot as human beings. It is a fact of life.

“You are the Universe, expressing itself as a Human for a little while.” –Eckhart Tolle

So use what little time you have effectively by identifying your objective and focusing your efforts.

Posted in Philosophy | 1 Comment

When She Asks You To Be Exclusive… Play This Song

My buddy Lancelot sent me this song, inspired by the conversations he and I often face that go something like this:

Girl: “So… I need to know if we’re exclusive or what. This casual sex thing doesn’t work for me (anymore).”

He and I both give a variation of the same answer, and he quickly put his version into musical form.

Hit it!

****

Next time a girl brings this up to you, you could give your version of The Speech, or you can just play Lancelot’s version for her.

My version goes something like this:

I really like hanging out with you. I’m just not in a place where I’m ready for a relationship in my life right now. If that doesn’t work for you, I totally understand. So if you need some time or some space, do whatever you need to, I completely get it. But I still want to keep seeing you, and I really enjoy our time together.

Posted in Challenges, Game | 1 Comment

How I Got Laid In Miami

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My boss dropped me at the airport around 10 on Thursday night. “What’s the name of that nude beach, again?”

“Haulover,” he said. “If you go left, you’ll be with all the gay guys. Go to the right and you’ll be good.”

We shook hands and I headed into the terminal.

****

After ensuring that everyone’s seat pockets were filled with Snickers wrappers and spit-out gum, Spirit Airlines allowed us to board our one-hour delayed flight.

I was seated firmly between a 6’5 hipster and a barefoot Pakistani.

I attempted to get some sleep on the concrete blocks that pass for seats on Spirit, and I managed to for about 45 minutes before my body went into a compulsive panic that every part of it was losing circulation.

****

I landed in Ft. Lauderdale at 6 AM local time Friday morning. While waiting for a pain-in-the-ass shuttle to my rental car place, I started chatting with a cute Asian girl also from LA. We talked for about 45 seconds before her shuttle arrived. I told her to give me her number, and she did. I never called her. My shuttle showed up 15 minutes later.

While waiting for my car, I realized that having a hotel room in Miami Beach would make my day infinitely smoother. I would be able to take a good nap, shower, and have a home base to have sex with Shakira or anyone else I ended up with that night.

I checked Expedia on my phone and found one cheap shithole right in the middle of the action (cheap meaning $160 for the night). I decided to splurge, and booked the room.

I got in my rental car, wiped out from the flight and lack of sleep, but excited to be in Miami. I plugged in my phone and started blasting tunes as I hit I-95.

In 45 minutes I was at the beach. I stashed my car in a garage and went to check out my hotel. The Yugoslavian dude at the front desk said I absolutely couldn’t have early check-in, and would have to wait until 3 PM. I would later overhear him offering early check-in to two foreigners for the price of $100. I guess he knew I couldn’t afford the bribe.

I wandered the beach for a little while, still wearing jeans, and watched sexy women, middle-aged women, gay dudes, families, and crazy hobos jogging and milling about.

I grabbed some breakfast at a little hotel’s restaurant on Collins. I ordered the steak & eggs. It came with Cuban bread, which I had never had before, and thoroughly enjoyed.

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Afterwards, still too early to check in, I used my hotel’s bathroom to change into beachwear and went out to the ocean to grab some much-needed sleep.

****

I chatted with a few different groups of girls at the beach throughout the day. There was the group of 7s from UNC, there was the chick from Minnesota with an amazing ass. She was there with 2 thugish Latinos, and I’m pretty sure one was banging her. But I still chatted her up and got her number. We never ended up hanging again, but we did coincidentally bump into each other at breakfast the next day.

Days later, we would both continue texting when we were each back home. She gladly sent me pictures and videos of her ass while her live-in boyfriend (who had been one of the thugs) wasn’t home.

Great gal.

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****

Around 2 PM I was finally able to check into my hotel. I took a shit and a long nap.

Shakira arrived late. Around 8 PM. We grabbed a quick bite at a cool Cuban diner, and headed to our first stop of the evening. It was a concert, and I had a certain hookup through work. We had a lot of fun.

After that, we headed to Brickell to check out a casual bar that had two DJs. We danced and grinded for a while. Shakira joined a dance battle to show off her skills (she dances for a living and teaches classes). Then we stopped in a beat-up old bar called Tobacco Road just to check it out, since we had heard about it earlier in the night.

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While at Tobacco Road, our energy was dipping (it was already 3:30 AM). She told me she had to sober up because she had decided she was going to drive 40 minutes home instead of staying over with me.

I was disappointed and showed it a little, but not too much. I said no big deal, I’ll go back out and keep partying.

We got back to the hotel and made out a little, but then she said she was leaving.

I had been looking forward to the opportunity to bang her again for months.

I had to do something if I wanted to keep her there and get laid.

But what?

*****

She was putting her shoes on. “It’s too bad,” I said. “We’ve never had really good sex.”

She laughed. “Really? I feel like we have.”

“We’ve only had sex twice. The first time I was pretty drunk and it was over fast. The second time you had your period.”

“Oh right. Well I remember the second time we both orgasmed at the same time though. Or I had a mini one.”

“A mini one. Ha. Exactly.” I looked off into the distance, like a cowboy. “It’s funny how first impressions color a relationship forever.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“We had bad sex the first time, and that was a couple years ago now, but I think subconsciously you’ve always taken me less serious as someone to have sex with because of that.”

“Yeah maybe…”

“And also the first impression from the time back when we met. I was a different person back then.”

“How so?”

“I had just gotten out of a long relationship and didn’t have much experience with women. I acted a certain way, and I think you still see me as that person in a way, even though other girls have a completely different impression of me now.”

“Hm, that’s interesting. I’m glad you’re bringing this up and being so honest with me.”

“It’s just funny to me,” I continued. “It’s so easy for me now with most girls, but things are always a little more… complicated with you. You moved away but I still think about you for some reason.”

“You’re definitely a special person to me,” she said. “You’re one of the people who has been significant to me. You’re one of those people to me, for sure.”

I chuckled, and sat down on the bed next to her.

Soon after, she was sucking my cock and then making her nice big booty clap around it.

****

While we were fucking, we realized the walls were paper thin, and there was a group of what sounded like 12 drunk black guys and girls that had just gotten home next door.

They started hootin’ and hollerin’ at us, which was distracting for me. Shakira thought they were annoying but that it would be funny to fuck with them back.

She started moaning and screaming loudly, which I found funny and arousing. Then she shouted out, “Oh… Aunt Jemima!” like she was coming.

I cocked my head at her. What the fuck was that?

It was a little weird, but sort of hilarious, and I didn’t let it stop me from the task at hand. We finished up our romp and as soon as I came, I knew that no matter what, my Miami trip had been a success.

Afterward, she got her things and I walked her to her car. Even though we had banged a year or two before, this felt like a new notch because I had wanted it so badly, and had to work hard to get it.

****

The next morning, I slept as long as I could and checked out at the last possible minute.

I stashed my bag in my car, and headed to a 4-star hotel where I planned to wash up. It turned out I had a friend from high school who worked at the spa of this particular hotel, and she said she would hook me up.

I had a great massaging shower, used the finest skin care products, and was ready to start my day in earnest.

****

I drove north to the Ft. Lauderdale area and met up with Private Man and his Manosphere meetup group.

Private Man was basically as expected; an older guy (compared to most of us in the Sphere), very opinionated with an air of Rush Limbaugh in his confident, bombastic way of speaking.

I also met his “ugly” dog Lucy.

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The rest of the guys were nice, but it seemed to be the “Married Man Sex Life” crowd of divorced guys in their 40s.

We all shared some drinks and talked, but I didn’t feel the comraderie or wingmanship I previously had when I met FFY, Jack Frost, Gmac, Rookie, Danger & Play, etc.

After this, I cut out to see an elderly relative who lived nearby. I spent about 90 minutes with her, and she gave me a spare key and said I could come back and crash in her guest room that night if necessary.

****

I met up with a buddy of mine from my Israel trip last year who lives in the area. We got dinner, along with another friend of his, in a fairly cool neighborhood called Las Olas. I got the sense that the Ft. Lauderdale area was to Miami what Orange County is to LA: A less urban, more affluent suburb populated by more cougars and rich people, but still packing some talent and fun.

After dinner, we went to 3 bars:

The first was a nice but casual spot, where I met a sexy girl who soon had to admit she was married. She was visiting the two female friends she was at the bar with, and her husband was back home in upstate New York. She had been married less than a year.

Immediately I said, “You married girls are all so horny.” I laughed and pulled her in. She grinded into my leg and said “Ugh I know.”

I was still sitting on a stool and she was standing, and soon I had her turned around basically giving me a lapdance with her juicy caboosey.

Her friends tried to keep her from getting carried away. I asked her if she was happy with her husband. She said “He doesn’t pull my hair like you do.” I pulled her hair more as we danced, and her hand began tracing my cock through my pants.

But soon after, her mother hens pulled her away to leave the bar.

****

The next stop was an overpriced bar masquerading as a club and charging a $10 cover. The place was an ugly shithole, but at least the girls were dressed well.

I talked to a bunch of girls, and my buddy winged me so I could start grinding with one decent one. Soon her and her friend had to use the bathroom, and they disappeared.

I saw them standing at the bar later and re-engaged. I found them to be a much colder audience this time around. I couldn’t quite make out what my girl was yelling over the music, but after seeing the lack of comprehension on my face, she took out her cell phone.

She showed me a picture of a baby.

“BABY!!” she shouted.

“YOUR BABY??” I replied.

“Yes!!!!”

I nodded in understanding.

” I don’t think the baby’s daddy would appreciate me dancing with you anymore!”

I got the message.

****

The place closed soon after, an hour earlier than normal due to daylight savings taking effect.

We headed toward a different neighborhood, but all the guys in our crew started leaning toward calling it a night. At that moment I ran into three fairly cool (if older) guys from Private Man’s meetup.

So, taking a recommendation from my buddy, I continued on with this merry band and led them to a ghetto after-hours bar.

We walked in and I wanted to get off on my own to explore, and not be tethered to these guys, so we split up. I found a dance floor in the back, populated by all black people, and 3 blonde girls.

I swaggered up to my favorite blonde girl and just started talking to her on the dance floor. She was kind of just standing there, so we talked about how she didn’t like the music.

She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, walked right up to me and started grinding intensely.

The Private Man Crew wandered back and saw me, already grinding with a hot blonde, and I could see their jaws drop in awe. I was glad I got to put on a little clinic for them and uphold my reputation.

My girl went to the bathroom again and a different, less-cute-but-still-decent blonde started grinding her ass into me. I don’t know if my first girl saw, but she bypassed the dance floor and went back to the main room (toward the exit).

This new blonde girl stopped grinding on me and left with her group shortly after. I thought I might be screwed.

I walked out to find my first girl again. I did, and I backed up into an empty bar, pulled her into me, and we started making out heavily while I squeezed her ass.

It turned out her dorm was in the same area as my relative’s place, so I suggested we leave and I drive her home.

I said bye to the Private Man Crew and walked out with her, high-fiving one of the dudes as I went.

****

We lost a little momentum on the drive home. But I was still into it when we got back to her dorm and climbed up on her top bunk.

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After a few minutes, she started resisting my escalation. Then she said, “I don’t think I can do this… I’m about to start a relationship with someone back home and it wouldn’t be right.”

Assuming she was telling the truth, that means the 3 girls I met in the 3 venues that night were 1) married, 2) with child, 3) had a boyfriend.

All these girls grinded with me and slutted it up. But I guess we can commend their chastity(?).

Eventually I gave up trying to restart escalation and headed home to jerk off in the home of a 93-year-old woman.

****

The next day I spent some relaxing time by the beach, ran into Private Man again, and then saw Shakira and her friends for a little while at a hotel rooftop pool.

Before I went to the airport, I managed to find a well-reviewed Chinese takeout joint, and scarf down some delicious east coast-style food. The difference between east coast and west coast Chinese food in the U.S. is like night and day. So I had some wonton soup (which they ruin with too many ingredients in LA), and crispy noodles with plenty of duck sauce (which, if you ask for in LA, they look at you like you have two heads).

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The Chinese food might have been even more enjoyable than the sex, come to think of it.

But looking back overall, it was a really fun little getaway, and I’m psyched to get back to Miami again soon.

Posted in Game, Travel Stories | 2 Comments

We Are All Fucked

We Are All Fucked

An Essay By Dagonet

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We are all fucked.

Look around you. Look at the people who share your community. Truly look at them, and try to find one who is living a life of happiness.

Look for a man who has a fulfilling job that pays well. One in which middle management stays out of his way and encourages him to maintain his freedom if that increases his morale.

Look harder.

Look for a family that has stayed intact, and raised children that are not warped into unnatural hellions by popular culture. In which the daughters have learned the value of love and chastity, and the boys have learned the power and responsibility of being a man.

Look on a farm, maybe, hundreds of miles from the next big city.

Look for men and women who appreciate each other, and find harmony from coming together. Who complement and impress each other, by demonstrating each of their unique values to the other.

Keep looking.

Look for a town center where people can laugh, and read, and dance, and debate, and eat meals together. Where they can feel like part of the tribe, and commune with their fellow man each night.

Look and look again.

When the system is broken, everyone is broken.

We are all fucked.

Posted in Philosophy | 8 Comments

Why Do All These Creepy Guys Want To Fuck Me?

I was at the chiropractor this morning, because I fucked my neck up playing hockey and having too much sex this week.

As I was putting my coat and shoes back on to leave, I overheard my chiropractor talking with a homely, overweight woman around 50.

He was preparing to adjust her, but she said, “Did you notice all the creepy guys outside today?”

My chiropractor cocked his head in confusion. “You mean all those guys looking for work by the hardware store?”

“I don’t know. They just seemed super creepy. I felt unsafe. Maybe… Maybe you could walk me back to my car so I’d feel safer?”

My chiropractor just chuckled. “I think you’ll be okay.”

****

I’m not the first guy to realize that women are obsessed with talking about “rape culture” because it excites them to imagine a violent criminal might be waiting in an alleyway on their walk home to forcibly give her his criminal seed, creating a sexy demon baby to cannibalize her from within.

But again here we see that this woman’s characterization of men around her as “creepy” serves many ego-assuaging functions.

It assumes that these men are all sexual threats to her. That she is so desirable she should fear these men accosting her.

It was also a ploy to gain the investment of a more alpha male, the chiropractor. She thought he might white-knight and come to her rescue, proving in another way that she is worthy of men’s affections.

It is basically a silly game that far too many women play, but unfortunately, our backward society has allowed the capricious accusations of women to hold great power. Not as much in criminal court as some
men’s rights activists fear, but, perhaps even more damnably, in the court of Public Opinion.

Only by ignoring these types of women, and not entertaining their deluded worldviews, will we be able to put a stop to this epidemic.

Posted in Philosophy | 6 Comments

Cold Showers

I like to force myself to take cold showers sometimes, because I know it has many health benefits.

I always resist it and have a difficult time trying to do it, though.

It occurs to me that,

It’s not the cold itself that causes my discomfort.

It’s the understanding that I could instantly turn the temperature up and make myself more comfortable.

This is what tortures me.

My psyche crying out

Comfort. Comfort…

We are slaves to comfort.

We are only as strong as the limits we place on it.

Posted in Philosophy | 5 Comments

The Women Of LA

This hilarious music video accurately captures the sexual marketplace of LA.

Now you know what I am contending with on a daily basis, and the Herculean task that is getting laid regularly in Los Angeles.

 

 

Posted in Movie Night | 7 Comments

Inside Hollywood: TV Pilots In Development

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It’s pilot season in Hollywood, and as I’ve started looking over the roster of new shows ordered by the broadcast networks, a distinct trend has emerged.

Do you see a pattern here?

(I’ve bolded for emphasis.)

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SHE’S GOT BALLS
NETWORK: ABC
LOGLINE: A recently divorced single mother temporarily moves in with her estranged father, a beer-swilling former baseball player. She reluctantly starts coaching her son’s underdog Little League team and is drawn back into the world of sports she vowed to leave behind.

BAD TEACHER
NETWORK: CBS
LOGLINE: Based on the film, a sexy, foul-mouthed divorcee becomes a teacher to find her next husband.

UNTITLED GREG GARCIA
NETWORK: CBS
LOGLINE: A recently divorced man’s life is complicated when his parents decide to move in with him.

DOUBT
NETWORK: ABC
LOGLINE: Former cop is now a cunning but charming low-rent lawyer who uses his street smarts to work the system for his clients while battling his own demons and wooing his ex-wife.

DIVORCE: A LOVE STORY
NETWORK: ABC
Based on the Israeli format Life Isn’t Everything, Divorce centers on Kenny and Robin, a recently divorced couple, who were bad together but discover they’re even worse apart and can’t seem to stay out of each others’ lives.

UNTITLED DJ NASH
NETWORK: NBC
LOGLINE: A son who idolizes his blind father and is bemused by his mother’s newfound adolescence watches his family come closer together post-divorce.

I AM VICTOR
NETWORK: NBC
LOGLINE: The series centers on a high powered divorce attorney with a unique view of relationships and is described as “House as a divorce attorney.”

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And of course my favorites…

PULLING
NETWORK: ABC
LIFETIME: The story of three dysfunctional women in their 30s living their lives the way they want, even if society tells them they should have it all figured out by this point.

MIDDLE AGE RAGE
NETWORK: ABC
LOGLINE: Chronicles what happens when a middle-aged wife and mother is fed up with feeling invisible and begins to speak up and demand the respect she feels she’s earned.

****

The zeitgeist don’t lie, guys.

Posted in Hollywood | 6 Comments