Back in the mid 70’s there was an English bike rag with a comic at the back featuring malcolm, a dipshit wannabe, and ogri, a guy with stubble, antlers on his helmet (helmet laws came in in ’74) and a Norvin.
It was good as far as it went, but across the pond there was a bike rag that went by the name of Easyriders, after the film.
Now before you go off one one, Bike in 1975 had fuck all similarity to Bike in 2013, assuming it is still in print, and Easyriders in 1975 had fuck all to do with Easyriders today.
While the UK rag had a bit of irreverence here and there, mainly in the cartoon at the back, Easyriders back then was chock full of it from front cover to back… the bay area was a bit too far away to get to on my trusty A10, but the magazine was available if you knew where to look.
Looking back the things that stay in the memory are the Dave Mann centrefolds, the assorted crap from JJ Solari, and the assorted vitriol of Spider, now JJ was never a biker, but he could write some funny stuff and some of his observations were good, so anyway there is a skit in I think ’76 or so all about hookers, and how they classified the johns.
What it boiled down to was that according to hookers there were about six sorts of customer, once they got in the bedroom, and two of these were “ooh baby don’t we fit together so well” and “my wife doesn’t understand me but you do” only those weren’t the names given.
Despite all the modern “you don’t pay a whore to fuck, you pay her to leave” shit, what it boiled down to was four of the six types of customer were paying the whore for the illusion of companionship and intimacy, one of the others was the type who couldn’t get a woman without paying, and the last type was the one buying “no comeback” sex because they were married and didn’t want anything threatening that like the mistress turning up at work… I suppose you could have called this one the “pay her to leave” group.
The bit I didn’t get at the time, because I myself was too young and inexperienced, was that EVERY SINGLE INDIVIDUAL WHORE would be seen in six different ways, not depending on what she was, but depending in the class of john who happened to be pumping her right then.
You can be a john, and go to a whore, and see her one way, but to be a smart john you have to see the other five types of john, and how they see the same whore.
So you log on to PoF to try and find some pussy, and you read a profile.
Or you can be smarter, and use several websites, including a couple of swinger sites, and you see she also has a profile on a swingers site, with quite a different profile.
Or you can be a smarter and more experienced guy, and cross check and correlate the escort / whores websites too, and see her on there as well, with yet another different profile.
Sucks donkey balls if you only ever looked at the PoF profile, met her, and decided to see her regular like…
As someone who has been aware of this for a while, I have been looking for some rules of thumb.
Is she over weight? Does she like gangbangs? This sort of thing, but, correlation is not causation, how ever close it may follow, and over time I have only come across one reliable indicator of any kind.
The wimminz is question sees sex as an act, trying another cock is no different to trying another dress, and I have literally heard that exact phrase from these wimminz.
For sure, the more dresses you try on, the less each new one signifies, shiny, pretty, until the next one, and the last one means as much, literally, as the boxers I threw in the laundry this morning when I grabbed a fresh pair out of the drawer.
This is a recipe to get hurt, badly, if you are any of the four main classes of johns, e.g. any of the four main classes of MEN, who are seeking some sort of illusion of companionship or intimacy.
So tick follows tock and the clock and calendar rolls over from 2012 to 2013, and many of the other so called MRA websites are all HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHEZ to the readership, but really it is much more welcome to the new boss, just the same as the old boss, because the inherent nature of the battlefield has not changed.. look at the tales of the English and German troops playing football in no man’s land in WW1, it didn’t mean shit because the next day it was back to the killing.
So I can sit here and cry in my beer and wonder why at this romantic time of year Jane49 hasn’t texted me for two days or bounced up and down on my cock for two weeks….
…or I can sit here and realise it is because she hasn’t decided to try a new dress on yet, and when she does she will call me, and the worst thing I can do in the meantime is call her like some lovesick puppy, and the best thing I can do is keep that production line going for jane50, jane51, jane52 etc.
One thing I can guarantee, no john is ever the first or only client of the whore he is visiting, and this is double true of all the wimminz out there, AWALT… without exception every single one of them has a string of johns who did the lovesick puppy thing, another lovesick puppy, NO MATTER HOW GOOD AT IT YOU ARE, is about as interesting to them as a 1995 fashion item…… like, wouldn’t be seen fucking dead with it.
So really all that is left in me is the pining for the fjords, wishing it were another way, but I might as well wish not only for the sandpile and toy cars when I was 7 years old, but also the innocence of the 7 year old, which was required to make those simple games so much fun.
That is really what I mourn, and what hurts inside me and all men, not the fact that AWALT, but the lost innocence within ourselves, back when we believed in loving girlfriends and wives and mothers of our children, not AWALT psycho skank ho’s
And so since the only other option is misery and I am a survivor, I have learned the lessons the skank ho’s have been so eager to teach me, jane49 means as much to me as the boxers I threw in the wash this morning, sure, nice and comfy and I’ll be happy to wear them again, but whenever they rotate back to the top of the pile of clean boxers, or never again, bin em and get a new pair, it really is no big deal.
Which is why I sit here and raise a glass to myself, to the wimminz of 2012 who had never done anal, till they met me, and the day I eventually persuaded them to do anal for me was the last day I fucked them, because then I had had everything that was new that they had to offer, and there are so many more pretty dresses to try on.
It is time for me to misquote Oppenheimer quoting the Hindu text….
“Behold, I am become death, destroyer of wimminz assholes”
Fuck it, it’s better hours than being a lovesick puppy.
