At the grocery store I ran into one of the first Polish girls I ever approached. Five months had since passed. She asked me what I was up to, surprised that I was still in the city. I said, “I fell in love and got married.” Her eyes and mouth opened wide until I let her know I was joking.
I thought about that little encounter afterwards, particularly how my whole strategy with women for the previous ten years is to bang them as quickly as possible with the least amount of work and bullshit. I’ve created an efficient factory assembly line that is custom-made for fucking and almost nothing else.
I don’t want to go for daytime hikes or romantic walks.
I don’t want to go to museums.
I don’t want to dine in restaurants.
I don’t want to solve a girl’s problems.
I don’t want to go on little vacations to the beach.
I don’t want to spend quality time.
On any given night I want to have a couple drinks, a couple laughs, and then fuck. I’m so dedicated to this goal that one outcome keeps repeating: short relationships that usually die after the second or third bang. There are no hard feelings, no tears, just a silent, non-dramatic end that quietly fades from both of our lives when it’s clear that two fucks was all I wanted from her. Then I go out and find another girl who is similar but different enough to keep me interested in order to repeat the same process over again.
Have I lost a part of what it takes to be happy in a long-term relationship of mutual sharing and companionship? I’m not sure, but when you’re a man with options who can fuck as much as your dick can handle, you don’t lose sleep wondering whether you’re on the right path or not. When you have a solitary life in strange cities without friends, you don’t care for much more than drinking and fucking. The particular lifestyle I’ve signed up for is making it increasingly unlikely that a monogamous relationship will happen for me.
It doesn’t help that the more I become the man I’ve always wanted to be, the harder it is to find a woman who stimulates me both intellectually and emotionally. It’s as if my experience is pricing me out of the world dating market, which was best explained by commenter Begby a few months ago:
The supreme irony of it all is that as soon as you’ve [become accomplished] and met all of [your] goals that make you interesting, funny, strong, attractive, and alpha, you are going to be WAY better than any potential woman you will end up with. You will be dumpster diving for the rest of your life because no woman can really measure up to a fully developed man. It’s called penis envy.
Why on earth would you treat them as anything but disposable toys, to be used 3 or 4 at a time and then discarded in short order? They are all inferior to the self-possessed man, so why would we want to spend our lives with inferior people? You let them stick around long, and they start working to ruin your life and keep you emotionally unbalanced so they can control you. Then when you are worn down enough to give them some of that control, they feel they “conquered” you, and are no longer attracted to you.
When is the last time a woman entertained you for hours, made you laugh, said witty things that she made up on her own, etc? Like never? All they are good for is sex, and even that is boring after a few times with the same girl.
Men really did get the short end of the stick on this planet—having to bust our ass 24/7 in a misguided effort to impress people who are far inferior to us.
The Polish girl at the grocery store believed my joke because she barely knew me. Otherwise she would just roll her eyes, because the outcome I told her would simply never happen.