You see, while it may be true that there are more dyed in the wool red pillers who have been through the mill of the wimminz more than me… 
It is also true that despite this vast experience, I have never quite managed to completely throw off the feeling of WTF when I see wimminz number 45,654,837 exhibiting exactly the same characteristics as all those that went before.
It is not so much that I have problems learning the lesson, more that I have problems accepting that the wimminz will never either learn the lesson or evolve into something more honourable than pond scum.
It is, in short, a never ending source of awe and wonder for me.
Will these worthless cunts truly never learn, will they truly, to the last one, charge at full speed like lemmings into the wall and rebound into the catfood aisle?
Which begs the question, if a dyed in the wool red piller like me has problems truly accepting and internalising it to the point where there is no longer any shadow of WTF at yet another bug trying to fly through the windscreen at 70 mph, how the fuck are the young guys and blue pillers supposed to cope?
Fact is we can’t expect it, we can only hope for the best, while watching the slow motion train wreck, which pretty much depends on young guys NOT getting it until they have been bitten by several scorpions…. it is a fucking harsh reality.
Harsh realities are becoming my speciality lately, fuck it, if Albert E could do them, I think I am entitled.
I was chatting to a skanky ex last night, somehow we got onto the subject of me meeting Mrs Right…. I told her…
What you wimminz never appear to get, it’s like this, some wimminz sits down at the table and I have to tell her, before she opens her mouth, I have met and known hundreds of wimminz before her, and ultimately they all stung the frog, so the fact is there is sweet fuck all that she can say to me that I have not heard before, so what does that leave as options?
She simply didn’t get it, her only answer is NAWALT, which is exactly what I just said doesn’t fucking exist, or if it does, I have never seen any sign of it, which is the same thing, pink elephant.
*I* didn’t fuck it up for this latest wimminz to sit down at the table, all her sistahs did, and judging solely by my experience to date, they didn’t fuck it up for her either, cos she is just the fucking same.
Tell me why I should take ownership of, or responsibility for, this problem.
Lovely mental image from something posted on another forum.
Your cunt is not a fucking clown car.
I’ll level with you, just for the sake of experimentation, more than fucking once, I have had something steady going where the skank promises me everything, including eternal fidelity and obedience and loyalty, and it’s been OK, and I get this nagging itch, and so I say, just once, “I love you”
Of course I don’t, fact is I don’t even think I know what love is anymore, it’s just three words and eight letters, devoid of meaning.
But, every fucking time I have done it that “relationshit” has self destructed within 7 days, and I have gone from a wimminz who pledged everlasting loyalty and obedience to a wimminz who wouldn’t even respond to a text, blanked, dead, I fell off the face of the earth.
Hello Mr Frog, meet Miss Scorpion.
There is literally no limit to the disparity between what a wimminz will say to you one week, and how she will act the next or previous week in real life, it is beyond fucking bizarre.
How do you convince a young guy that literally every sound that will ever come out of a wimminz mouth, without exception, will sooner or later be proven to have little or no connection to reality.
Actually this also applies to literally every word that ever comes from a wimminz hand too.
So what do you do with scorpions when you are a frog?
Pretty much the only thing you can do that will work is make them property with literally zero rights, but there is fuck all chance of that this side of a total collapse because there is always some niggerz cunt all too willing and eager to drink the wimminz kool aid and listen to what they say, and promise…
Then there is the problem of scorpions playing dress up s frogs, and other frogs trying to make cozy with scorpions, so pretty much all you can ever do is only ever go swimming across that river alone, no exceptions, don’t even go near other frogs.
Now here is a nugget of pure gold and pure truth.
Tell a wimminz about Aesop‘s tale of the Frog and the Scorpion, and what does she see?
It ain’t what YOU see asshole.
She sees two things.
- A scorpion who did not die alone
- A frog who did not have the chance to go near any other scorpions ever again.
I shit you not.
Why are you acting all surprised, this is EXACTLY in line with how wimminz act in family court when it comes to custody and contact between the kids and the father.
It’s a bit like taking some green recruit fresh out of boot camp and airdropping the poor bastard in the middle of afdiggastan, amongst people who have spent generations growing up and living in circumstances that make boot camp look like all expenses paid disneyland and free hookers too.
Telling him he is hot shit is enemy action.
