I'm taking more risks with my writing. Let me know what you think.
***
I was at the club when I met my mentor. He was sitting there nursing a beer watching one of the dancers. He was plainly dressed in a button down shirt and slacks that looked as if they came from walmart. His hair had a common cut but he was relatively well kept.
I brushed past him at first to get a drink for a girl across the bar. She was in fishnets and thigh high boots in a leather mini dress. It was a bondage club so this was attractive but not out of place. I wanted to get to know her but back then I was shy. I couldn't talk to girls much less look them in the eye.
I was your typical 22 year old college shit. I dressed in a leather jacket and ripped jeans with no shirt and a spiked collar. I looked like I was in a band with my blue hair and eye liner. I thought I had things figured out.
As I asked the bartender what drinks were popular the man in the buttoned down shirt stopped me with a question. "So, what is she going to do for you?"
I stopped in my tracks and said the honest answer, "I don't know."
"If someone bought me a drink, I'd drink it. Thats what drinks are for. What do you really want?"
"I want to talk to her."
The man lit a cigarette and smiled as he watched the dancer.
"Is that all?"
The dancer leaned into him teasing him as he spoke to me. His face remained amused yet almost blank.
"Well I'm looking to get laid, c'mon what else man?"
"Have you ever seen the matrix series?"
I paused.
"The last one just came out. I loved those movies, it made me wake up."
He chuckled and sighed, he put out the butt and said.
"You don't understand it do you?"
I was confused, and he spoke again.
"The whole time his only weakness was Trinity. He was standing at the door to enlightenment and gave it all up for the pussy."
I ordered a shot of Jagermeister and sat by the man. He remained staring at the dancer. She kept trying to get his attention, it was weird. Here he was apparently doing nothing but she was completely consumed with getting his attention.
I downed the shot and chased it with a coke. The dancers were changing out and the dancer walked up to him. She whispered in his ear and he left the bar with her.
"Good luck."
I continued to sit at the bar watching the next dancer. She was gorgeous but I was a little wary of the dancers. I started gazing at another girl across the way. She was a cute little thing drinking nearby. She drank beer instead of cocktails. She was alone and looked bored.
Maybe it was the dude with the dancer, or maybe it was the third shot but I had the courage back that I needed.
"You look bored!"
"Excuse me?" She leaned forward and I noticed her chest. She caught me but she waited for me to speak again.
"I said you look bored."
"Yeah, the songs are starting to repeat around here like radio."
I paused, the question seemed dumb because this was a fetish club, the people all listened to the same stuff here, but I asked anyways.
"So, what music are you into?"
She grabbed her purse and grabbed a clove cigarette from her case.
"I'm going out to smoke, do you want one?"
I grabbed it and lit it up. We walked down the stairs and left the club. We watched the cars passing by on palm avenue. The moon was full and there was a soft breeze rolling by.
"So what were you wanting to ask me?"
"What music are you into?"
She paused and I thought I was a fool until she spoke.
"Depeche Mode, Souxie and The Cramps, I like alot of shit."
"Me too, I listen to some of the goth shit like Sisters of Mercy but I like alot of metal too."
We kept talking for what seemed like hours. I liked watching her mouth move as the black lipstick smudged off leaving black marks on the butt of her cigarette. She was a nine out of ten inside, but the streetlights let me know she was a solid seven. I even noticed the baby fat peeking around the top of her corset when her arms moved. She was still cute but I'd realized how short she'd be without the boots on. My shoulders eased up, and she put her legs on my lap. Her Leather boots and fishnets hid what denim couldn't. I simply ignored it and let my thoughts flow like water. We connected.
"So do you like to be dominated?"
"What?" I almost choked on the smoke that exited my lips.
She scratched her nails across my chest. Light welts and spots of blood formed across my breastbone.
"Yeah, I like things rough if thats what you mean."
She kissed me and bit into my lip. She was on me like a bad habit. I noticed things, subtle imperfections, the way she tastes, her heavy breath, the cheap foundation caked over hidden zits, the botched tattoo on her thigh, the way her hair started to frizz in the moist Florida air. The more I resisted the more I was in control. She was dominated by her emotions.
I was trying to resist her and it worked. I acted aloof and she wanted it more. I quickly realized that I was getting something for nothing, or almost nothing.
What did I do tonight that was so different from so many nights before?
***
Women say they want a nice guy but those are the norm, not the rarity. Think about all of the beta males serving as life support for these useless eaters. Remember back when Lady Anon used to come here talking her shit about men. She was obsessed with talking about the asshole men. Notice how she never really talked about the betas, even though she claimed to want a nice guy.
Pook's Mill had several posts about this subject in great detail. Esther Villar was the foundation of much of the knowledge gained. DJ knew this dynamic and even experimented with their life support in his blog. I actually want to go further than this.
Women either like you or they don't. Period. No amount of chivalry, gifting or chivalrous metro-sexual beehiveior will save you from rejection. They will use you because if they do not like you from the moment they meet you, you will be their bitch.
"Do you know that look that your wife gives you sometimes? That look like they are mad at ya that you can't explain, and they don't? It's because your not their first choice!" -Chris Rock
Beta males are the nice guys. The players all lavish gifts on their hos but really who is getting played here? All the chick has to do is to put on a skimpy outfit and fuck them. In essence what we have here is just that, Getting (P)laid.
Once the divorce is over and the alimony has been paid, the men of the world really are slaves. They pay taxes to the IRS, and money to the MRS. Freedom therefore is just that. A bachelor working under the table is the most dangerous thing the government has ever known.
They pay no taxes that they can claim, they have no family to exploit, they are not tied to any location. They do not have to pay lip service to any religion, they do not have to work any harder than to sustain themselves, they have the free time to create and educate themselves. This is how the battery removes the terminal cables from themselves. The bachelor literally is what society fears most. Seize the day, freedom is here.
Carpe Cainem, Seize the Bitch!
Instant feedback:
DebtInterest said...
Another important article!
I totally agree with you.
I see my dad, I hate him and despise him but at the same time, feel bad for him. He works works works and works but all he get from his wife is bitching... He is so fucking greedy or pressured to provide that he took on big loan to speculate real estate market and he doesn't know soon he will be fucked... Of course what he get from his wife is more bitching...
He probably married because of his mom... his mom probably said "get married and then I will call you a good boy~"
I understand that marriage for men is slavery, especially in this day and age. However, is it possible for men to control women and be free? Or, is it an oxymoron; marriage and freedom?
Isn't either marriage or freedom more like the reality for men?
I feel so bad for him...
Is control freedom? There is the rub. Freedom is the ability to do what ever you want without the need for anything else but your own abilities to sustain you.
If I were to take a girl as a pet much the same as they do with men, what I would have is a liability due to her inability to provide for herself.
Therefore I simply bring her home, fuck her and let her go.
Catch and release keeps a sport from being a job.
Think of all the work the elite do just to raise the human farm...
