Got a mate, his name isn’t really Mitch, but it ain’t a million miles away… he plays the swinging / fucking / dating sites too, though we tend to move in different circles due to the colour of his skin, or more precisely the colour of his cock.
Cunt made me choke on my beer with two little stories he told me.
First one is thanks to tineye, he finds that this chick he picked up via PoF, where she has one kind of profile, also has a profile on a fucking site, which says quite different things, so he says to her how about sticking your tongue up my ring-piece, and she starts acting all horrified and outrages, so he whips out his smart-phone, pulls up her profile on the fucking site, where rimming is listed as one of her interests.. what;s more it turns out that since he saw her last a few days before she has had a verification on the fucking site as the filling in a MMF sandwich.
He said her face ran through expressions like Hauser’s mask in Total Recall
Yeah, and then she blew up, cursed him every name under the sun and threw his black ass out.
So he was back to the grindstone and gets a message from this skank, and he shows me the profile, and it is all about how she fucking hates liars and dishonesty and shit so just be up front with her about what you want yadda yadda yadda, and then it gets to the bit where she mentions in closing that she has a husband who doesn’t know she is on a fucking site so she can’t accommodate and discretion is expected.
And the final line is “no blacks or asians”, and Mitch’s profile has a handle that starts with the word “black” and has three pictures of various parts of his body, all black… cos Mitch ain’t no milk chocolate type nigga, he is proper Nigerian black.
And he says to me, genuinely at a loss, what the fuck was I supposed to say to her? I literally have no fucking words, so I said the first thing that popped into my head that might put her off, I told her my profile was a bit economical with the truth, as he is actually a pre-op black transsexual.
Next thing he knows, she is calling him Master and worshipping him and talking about their future together, and bombarding him with messages and pictures etc, he tells me he is scared to visit that fucking website now. He is only partially joking.
I choke on beer again.
I guess it was a *lot* funnier for me because I know the guy personally and know the back-story etc. etc. etc, for example Mitch knows the whitey skank only wants his black cock because they see him as somewhere between human and animal and that makes their cunt throb, but for his part he only got into fucking white skanks because black skanks were even more mental and poisonous.
Mitch is my “black eye for the white guy” in shades of queer eye for the straight guy, in some areas, he sees shit I didn’t.
My part of the UK you can walk around and see almost no non white faces, I can go into town and back and literally count the non whites on the fingers of one hand, not so in the cities in the rest of the country, so my town is wholly unrepresentative of the nation as a whole and our cities as a whole, which is interesting when it comes to the demographics of the internet, whether it be a dating site or a fucking site, it all goes into the melting pot.
Except it doesn’t. the only black or indeed non white faces you find on a fucking site are men like Mitch, with the odd very rare exception that is female, and again it is count on the fingers of one hand stuff.
On dating sites the trend is not so obvious, but once your eyes are opened to it you can see the disparity.
It’s not to say that black / asian / whatever chicks don’t fuck around etc, they do, AWALT, but they don’t use dating / fucking sites like white skanks…. if you’re puzzling over why, to Mitch it is as obvious as the nose on your face, these sites are all run by whitey, and no it’s not “racis” he says, with a laugh, when the target it whitey.
Mitch has a mate who I have never met, he refers to this guy as the “Nigerian Eskimo“, guy spent a lot of time living and working trucking in the high latitudes of the Americas, mainly based in Edmonton and Calgary, and guys compare notes, and he tells me the Nigerian Eskimo was telling him if you want a truly fucking frightening experience get involved with all the freaks there living the new “poly” lifestyles and constantly updating /r twitter and their blogs…. he said it was like a lot of insane brains kept in jars doing a stream of conciousness vomit 24/7 and he likened it to an infectious mind plague, not the the surreality that you can sometime get if you wake up to 1/10th consciousness in one of your own dreams, but being 100% awake and lucid in and realising that you are living in other people’s collective dreams, with not a hind of conciousness or rationality anywhere…. apparently the Nigerian Eskimo eventually got so freaked by it all that one day back from a run he walked out the the apartment, left the door open, left all his shit apart from clothes and stuff in there, drained his bank, got in the old Caprice and didn’t stop until he got to Yuma, a year later and he found himself in the UK driving night trunking to mainland Europe and back.
Way Mitch tells it, the Nigerian Eskimo got seriously seriously freaked, as in seeing evil spirits and virally infectious memes spreading, they a’comin to get ya, and he (Mitch) used to laugh at this shit, but this last week, Mitch dunno any more, it don’t seem so funny any more.
Got another friend, was in the town he works last week so stopped by for a coffee and a chat, made me realise something, part of why I like my job is I am in a different place every day, almost never see the same site or the same people twice, but what I realised was that it’s been 7 years or more since I was in any kind of gig where I did see the same people every day, and that doesn’t just mean I’d forgotten how that was, it means I haven’t seen the changes the last 7 years have made to that environment either.
This friend is head of IT with this company, and he is talking like the Nigerian Eskimo, he can’t take it no more, it is changing and evolving, no longer what it was, no longer non toxic, no longer sane, no longer conducive to retaining sanity.
Now I have never met the Nigerian Eskimo, but it strikes me that him and this guy are like me and Mitch, on paper we don’t have shit in common, but on the sideband off the carrier where it counts, oh yeah, there’s all kind of stuff going on, plate of shrimp…lol
“It’s in the fucking can, that’s what you don’t understand” (you have to watch it all)
… suddenly you start noticing mercs everywhere, when you are hungry, suddenly you start noticing food adverts everywhere, etc. etc..
That shit was always there, you just didn’t notice it.
Same thing goes for the red pill, and the part of the red pill that has to do with the everyday decisions that wimminz make, that shape their lives…. that shit has always been there, but you never really noticed it, before it was just an invisible part of the background picture.
As mentioned previously in the dummies guide to what wimminz want, once you swallow the bit of red pill that says wimminz logic functions on don’t want, not want, things can start to make sense, if you let them.
A bit like the old joke about the easy way to confuse an Irishman being to set three shovels against a wall, and tell him to take his pick, one of the “conundrums” I see wimminz face regularly is this;
spend a night with one guy who wants one single wimminz to fuck
spend a night with several people at a party, who want one single wimminz to fuck
Akshully it’s not much of a conundrum, more is better, right, not because more is better, but there is the illusion of potential choice for the wimminz “don’t want” logic, whereas if she picks the single guy, well, she can still choose don’t want, but then the evening is wasted eh… lol
The conundrum comes afterwards, when they went to the party and did don’t want to the whole party, and the single guy says you shoulda chosen to spend the night with me, and she says yeah, and the single guy says what are you gonna do about that then bitch?
And she will say “I dunno”
And she doesn’t, because “don’t want” logic works the opposite way around from male “want” logic.
Now, I want to mention something, and that something is the availability and quality of toilet paper in Ghanzi, Botswana.
If you think of your brain as a CPU, until I mentioned that little fact, you had devoted a total of 0 CPU cycles to that subject, and so when I raised the subject you were all WTF, and prety much dismissed the entire subject from your brain, no more CPU cycles devoted to thinking about it, instead allocating a few to see what the fuck I was going to say next, by way of explanation.
If I talk about motorcycles, or sailing, or rock music, or milling machines, or any other subject, I am only ever talking to a proportion of the male population.
If I want to talk to all of them, all I have to say is something along the lines of “There is this girl, you know, 90% of what she is and what she is about is fucking great, but man, that 10%, you know she will not stop doing this crazy shit that is fucking up her life and ruining her kid’s future options, and I’ve talked to her and she knows this shit and knows I am right, but she just won’t stop.. WTF?”
Instantly 100% of men hear what I am saying… and start thinking, eg devoting CPU cycles, to thinking about a wimminz, if only she would change, stop doing this, start doing that, yadda yadda yadda.
Unlike the botswana bog roll, you *are* devoting CPU cycles to the conundrum of the wimminz, and THIS IS A COMPLETE FUCKING WASTE OF YOUR BRAIN AND TIME.
People do what they are gonna do, wimminz particularly.
You can’t change the fuckers, help them, save them, educate them, look after them, care for them, influence them, any of that shit.
The red pill here is how many CPU cycles are being devoted to wimminz, and what they want, what they need, what they should do, etc.
I want to tell you two small true stories.
wimminz #1
I have fucked her on and off, she was good enough at it and otherwise obedient and amenable enough, that I made her my standard offer, put me in change and I’ll let you become my own personal slut, and as a by product your life generally and the future outlook for your womb turds will improve dramatically.
Needless to say while deciding what to do (lol, see previously re don’t want logic) she decided one night she didn’t want to talk to me and wanted to fuck someone else, and then lied to me about it.
Fine by me, your life, your choice, as I said to her later, she asked if I hated her, said no, don’t care enough to hate, and you were a slut before and another ten or a hundred cocks ain’t gonna change that any, so I’ll fuck you again, but that offer of being my own personal slut, that’s history bitch.
I’ll fuck her again, only a matter of time.
wimminz #2
Unlike wimminz #1, this one decided she wanted me, s in she didn’t want to not have me, so we fucked now and again, and a year or so later it dawns on her that she isn’t making any progress with me in transitioning from being a fuckbuddy to a relationshit, so it is toys outta da pram time and she find herself another guy.
Now this is all violins and roses and romance and soul mates and all that crap, the full on top fuel dragster start from meeting the guy to cohabiting within a fucking week, and everything is fucking wonderful. According to his words and texts etc. this dweeb is *totally* into her.
This is what she always wanted, right. … right… riiight???
Well, no, last week she calls me, “for a chat”, I put it to her, and call her a liar when she denies it, until she admits it, that what she wants is my cock. I don’t give it to her.
Two days later she calls me, her day off, he is at work, she is having a new dishwasher delivered and some nonsense about some tool / spanner / thingy that can’t undo some connection thingy so she can pull the old one out for when the new one arrives.
I tell her, you just want me to come over there and fuck you, because you know if I do come over there I will fuck you.
I push the point, and she admits that I only have to say the word, and she will kick the love of her life out and “be mine again”…
I decline to go over and fuck her.
She dissembles about “cheating” on this guy with me, it’s OK to kick him to the kerb to fuck me, it’s OK to let him think he is the love of her life while craving my cock, but apparently it is not OK to fuck me while she is still with him,
I tell her you cheated on your ex’s… she dissembles.
I’ll fuck her again, it is only a matter of time.
So, two small true stories, both running concurrently to one another, both these wimminz are MOTHERS who are supposed to be putting their fucking kids first….
when they message me as part of the process leading up to item 1
when comparing an entirely different wimminz actions, by way of reference.
when illustrating a point, such as here
The rest of the time I am quite happy to devote my CPU cycles to idle, watching flowers on the wall and captain kangaroo, or playing video-games on my noo pee cee, or just fucking chilling.
The one you have to watch, as a man, is item #2 on that list.
It is all too easy to cross the line from casually batting the ping pong ball back in their faces, to actually giving a shit and trying to win that game and attain the goal at the end of it, some new cunt to pump.
While we are on the subject, I also devote zero CPU time to consideration of my own life from a blue pill perspective, have I achieved anything, am I successful, do I have a great career, etc etc.
It is lunch-time on a Saturday and I haven’t even got dressed, haven’t tidied or run the hoover around, haven’t done any of the 20 jobs on the back burner, this is me time, chill time, played a little skyrim earlier, caught up on work emails and shit for next week, typed this crap, drank coffee, smoked some.
Now I’m going to install and play Far Cry 3 at max gfx settings, just because I can.
And like bo peep, all those skank ho’s out there that I have exchanged the odd ping pong message with and are on the possibly list, well. they’ll take care of themselves, they’ll come through or not, on the day they decide they don’t want to not have my cock any longer, wagging their tails behind them, and the best way to make that happen is to devote zero CPU cycles to it.
Further to a chat with a mate about a recent skank ho of mine.
So he says to me, you not bonking skanky this weekend, I told him no, that one has run its course.
Damn he says, she showed promise, had a lot going for her, what happened?
Quelle fucking surprise I told him, she fucking lied to me.
Ah he says, I knew you said a couple of weeks ago you suspected it.
Yeah, didn’t have any fucking proof until a couple of days ago, but had that gut feeling summat wasn’t right, and when it comes to wimminz I always trust my gut feelings, no matter how fucking vague.
Of course, being a wimminz, as soon as you call them on their bullshit their fucking attitude instantly shifts forever, but like the lass upstairs who waited all of three days of mourning for her boyfriend who was carted of by po-lice in handcuffs, before literally moving in a new guy, but as she said to him as the po-lice hauled him away, she wasn’t cheating on him, no sir.
As I said to my mate, and to the skank in question, it’s not the fact she fucked someone else that bothers me, she has had so many cocks and cunts another one doesn’t make the slightest difference, her value was already zero.
It’s not even just the fucking lying, although that is a big part of it, no, what really gets me is a/ thinking she could bullshit me, and b/ acting like a spoilt child when she gets caught, and revving up the hamster wheel in order to avoid having to face the reality and consequences of HER choices and HER actions.
How the fuck am I supposed to respect *anything* about a spoiled three year old who has ridden a thousand cocks?
One fucking day, just fucking maybe, I will meet a woman, and by definition this would be a woman and not a wimminz, familiar with the concepts;
Ignoring the future consequences of your current actions does not in any way negate those consequences.
every single choice you make today has repercussions for your entire future life
once you break something, like trust or your word or not having told a lie to an individual, you can’t *ever* go back to the way things were
once you change the way things were in one area, you change the way things were in all areas
The last one is the doozy, once you lie, or otherwise change the playing field by your actions, there is no more “mates rates” if I sell you something, there is no more pay me back that 50 as and when you can, no rush, there is no more sure, grab a coffee, pull up a chair and tell me your troubles, I no longer give a fuck.
And you gotta remember, I am the least likely guy to indulge in any of the nicey nicey shit and buy you a drink to chat you up or flowers or crap, sure, if you are here and sucking my cock all night I’m happy to feed you coffee and mebbe some vittlins, if I am eating too, usually zero financial expenditure of any kind on my part (apart from anything else, doing something dumb like buying the bitch some flowers for her birthday = instant loss of respect for ya) and even so, you still gotta trust your fucking intuition when something ain’t right, and that means INSTANTLY start thinking and acting like it is game over, even if you might get another fuck or two out of the skank.
So he says to me, basically you just don’t trust *any* wimminz do ya bro.
I tell him, no I don’t, and so far I have been proven right 100% of the time.
And you know how men fuck up, they apply LOGIC and REASON, two utterly alien concepts to the situation, and thus come to the conclusion that she can’t be doing x, because there is no possible fucking upside for her in doing x, and nothing but a multitude of downsides reverberating down the path of her future.
So he grins at me and says hey, it could be worse, we could be living in Damascus.
When I was growing up there was a certain mentality, it was not pervasive by any means, but it was all around.
This mentality held that there was a connection and commonality between sex and a relationship, they sort of went hand in hand, and if you wanted one you had to have the other as a sort of package deal.
So you had stuff like going steady with a single girlfriend, it wasn’t the marriage the older generation wanted, and if you lived together it was living in sin, but it was still a commitment thing.
If pump and dump one night stands existed, they were very rare one off things, not a lifestyle choice or indeed option. Sure, there was prostitution, but there were only so many whores, and it was a thing men only did when they were away from their home turf.
Sex, you see, was pretty much not available on it’s own, to use the box of chocolates analogy, you had to buy the whole fucking box, including the crap you didn’t like like almond whirls, praline crunch, nougat truffle, to get the mint, strawberry and orange ones you did like.
To use another, perhaps better, analogy, it was like a personal vehicle, that thing that all youth aspired to, their own car or motorsickle.
You could get one, but only if you took lessons, passed the tests, paid the insurance, kept it roadworthy, and obeyed all the laws of the road.
Some tearaway yoofs like me, full of piss and vinegar, immortal and thinking we knew better than anyone else, well, fuck it, build or buy the vehicle, buy the gasoline, as for the rest, that’s for straights… if you are gonna ignore all the speed limits and shit what’s the point wasting time and money on crap like driving lessons and tests and licences and insurance.. right…
Back in those days, the computer was a rare object, everything was done on paper, so there was a lot of slack in the system for people like me/us, we “got away” with shit for years that nowadays would be flagged up in 3 seconds flat by a numberplate recognition system tied into a central database of insured and roadworthy vehicles… even so, some of that shit made it in to the modern records and is still following me around to this day.
The thing was, once you had decoupled personal vehicle ownership from the responsibility to the rest of society that went with it, there was no way back for the individuals concerned… once you have been nailed for no licence / insurance / road-worthiness cert etc, it became so expensive and time consuming to try to go legal, that you simply could not afford it.
Nor would you be able to for many years, at least five.
So a 17 year old asswipe has the option of holding a bus ticket in his hand, (or walking, or using a push-bike for shorter journeys) for five years, or continuing to break the law, and in some areas of the country, such as where I was with literally two buses per week, that also meant no work, which meant no money.
Y’all also have to remember that at these times (and they are a’comin’ back real soon now) if you wanted to buy a bike on HP (hire purchase), the APR was running around 32%.
Even so, once you had fucked up once, you could buy a brand new MHR Ducati 900 desmo for the same money it would cost to insure that old AJS 350 you’d been blatting around on.
So we get into the scene where “capable of evading high speed pursuit” was a pre-requisite, and you routinely had motorcycle cops making comments to you like, “typical biker, the brakes, tyres, and steering are all excellent, but there ain’t another legal thing about you or the bike“…
And so, once fully decoupled from the system, there was no way back in to it, and escalation was the only game in town, and the next thing you know, guys who were, and I shit you not, kicked out of a certain very well known patch motorcycle club for being too wild and out of control, and who then fuck off to start their own truly outlaw club (truly outlaw = nothing was legal, no title, no licence, no roadworthiness certs, no ID, no obeying traffic laws, no nothing) start nodding to you and inviting you to hang out.
Then one day you wake up in the slammer, and the screws remember you from the last visit, and your life stretches out before you, and in my case I was literally out of the country 3 hours after I was released, and did not come back until I had managed to re-invent myself, starting with a clean slate in another country.
I was able to return several years later, not with a clean slate, but with a clean slate for the past several years, and that counted for something…
It was telling that everyone I know who has been banned from driving for being over the limit says the same damn thing, not the fines, not the ban, not the stigma, no the hassle, which is what the campaigns always talked about, but it was the £10k it cost them in lost earnings that struck home, which none of the campaigns talked about.
Sure, *I* was responsible for decoupling myself from the system, but once I had taken that one step, there was no realistic way back… once you make an omelette you can’t get back to a raw egg.
And so it is with the decoupling of sex and relationshit / commitment.
Unlike the motoring stuff, I did not grow up to breed more motorsickle outlaws on some motorsickle outlaw reservation outside of society and law, yet somehow also within it.
If I had, I dread to think what the little fuckers would be like…
And yet, that is exactly where we are in society with sex.
Sex has been decoupled from relationshit / commitment, as I type this I am getting messages on a fucking site from a 38 year old skank ho single mommy of 3 who wants to be my bitch, for a little while at least, on a purely sexual basis, after 9pm when the eldest is in bed…
Ordinary table salt is NaCl, Sodium and Chlorine, a benign and necessary to support life substance that once split apart becomes two toxic substances, and just mixing them doesn’t make salt again.
Skank ho single mom can’t be mixed with some guy to make the magical nuclear family that is the cornerstone of society… any more than outlaw biker me could be mixed with some uniform Babylon** (**cops) to form a responsible citizen who has seen the light.
If you actually want to address the problem, you have to do two things;
provide a way back once decoupled, and then do whatever it takes to make that happen.
provide a purgatory or cooling off period between being coupled and decoupled, where all parties can really thing about where they actually wanna take that one way leap into the dark.
It’s the old adage, it is easier to break something that repair it, less time effort energy everything.
If nobody works on repairing and maintenance, soon there is nothing left to break.
A quote in the MSM recently said “But we didn’t start the fire, so don’t expect us all to suddenly become firemen…”
Well, I certainly played with matches, but I did not pour gasoline on the flames and then try to bill me for the gas and the cleanup.
In fact in the world of sex as opposed to the world of vehicles, the “legal motorist” is the one being punished, while the outlaws are getting the free ride.
But again, nobody is providing a way back, and nobody is providing a purgatory.
Cupcake calls 999/911 and makes accusations, the blue touchpaper has been lit, no way back, no cooling off period.
Buying a fucking 4.99 phone charger from Amazon comes with more legal protection and cooling off time than making a false allegation of rape against a man.
Sex *can* be re coupled with commitment and relationshits, but it’s a LOT harder and a LOT more expensive than breaking it was, plus, providing a way back for those already decoupled, such as me, is even harder still.
But these are “can”‘s of the sort that an engineer can deal with, we *can* fix the problem, but you have to be prepared to pay the FULL cost.
As a society, we can not financially pay the full cost, the cost would already *far* exceed all the debt we already have, and we cannot pay that, so it is a bit like a plane that almost flies or a boat that almost floats, all we can do is re-arrange the deckchairs on the Titanic.
Trying to “fix” the problem at this stage is rather like trying to impose 1970’s personal vehicle ownership standard and rules in Mogadishu today, you have to fix a million and one other things before you can even begin to start…
IN another forum a poster who goes by the handle of TFH has long said that feminazism is not going to hit the end of the road until 2020 AD, at least, so let’s call it 2030 to be safe.
Once that happens, we can get back to re-coupling, at whatever cost to what passes for society and state then, give it another 20 years for the first children born into that to grow into adults who have known nothing else, so we are looking at 2050 AD as the earliest possible date where things will get back to where they should be, we are talking about MY FUCKING GRAND-CHILDREN, even though my abducted and absent boys are still in short trousers, THEY will never see it until they are older than me, and it will be too late for them, but their kids may see it.
So, EVERY SINGLE CUNT READING THIS, you are in the place I was when I woke up in the slammer one day and had a reality check, you have two options.
stay where you are, stay who you are, and get doubled down on from uniform Babylon on down.
go far enough away so you can get some breathing space and re-invent yourself.
It is adapt, or die.
Fucking off to Bangkok and trying to preserve any part of who you are now is a waste of time and effort, you may as well stay exactly where you are, you have to metamorphose into something completely different.
You have to go as a blue pill motherfucker Smurf.
You have to kill that fucker stone dead and emerge from the chrysalis as a red pill lone wolf tin man motherfucker with a hole where his heart used to be.
It’s not romantic, it’s not laudable, it’s not manly, it’s not heroic, it’s not worthy, it is not anything more or less than survival.
If you have ideas of Beau Geste, or how other’s will look up to you or respect you, or any other bullshit, fuhgeddabahtit
This isn’t about going off on some initiation ceremony / rite of passage where you come back new and improved and a MAN, who gets the girl etc.
This is about moving to the jungle and undergoing genetic manipulation until you become a flesh eating reptile like a salt water croc.
The new croc you ain’t gonna want ANYTHING you had in your old life, it is no use to him.
He’s just waiting for the corpses to float downstream from the cities.
as subject, it’s not a conversation I can *ever* recall a man starting with me, ever, not even in passing reference, wimminz on the other hand, they all have some variation / combination of summer shorts / sitting down / towel slipping / whatever, to explain why they ended up looking at their teenage son’s cock… and it is a subject that most if not all wimminz with teenage sons have managed to inject into a conversation with me at some point.
wimminz will also of course have loud noisy kinky sex with you so their kids and neighbours can hear it, or rather, can not possibly not hear it.
quite why wimminz apparently feel no boundaries on their sexuality between themselves and their kids is something beyond the scope of my intellect, certainly beyond rocket science, or else, it is really very simple, wimminz will fuck anything if they can tell a convincing lie and deny it and get away with it.
So Layla who is 51 becomes Linda who is 41 on the dating/swinging site, and dude if she told you she would do “anything” in bed, you can bet your ass she said that to the absolute minimum 100+ guys before you, and you can bet your ass enough of those guys said “anything huh… okaaay” that anything becomes everything, she has done everything, including a lot of shit that probably would not occur to you or appeal to you, but, she has done it.
And Layla ain’t that fucking dumb either, she knows that skank ho Susie, who has finally realised all she can offer you is booty call, so offers it, is a real fucking dampener on Layla’s plans, and how much she can inflate the value of access to her cunt, and the pleasure of her com-pan-eee… so convincing you to cut yourself off from Susie becomes a real priority for Layla, and she’ll buy you your favourite beer, and say fuck all about habits of yours that boil her piss, because she is on the hunt… and you are on the menu.
Layla has the same opinion of me as many wimminz, I am too fucking “aggressive” and by aggressive what she actually means is Code Rainbow, this rude boy ain’t buying ANY of my bullshit, nor is he backing down at my usual tactics.
The only play she has left is to take her ball and exclude me from the game.
I just been banned for life from yet another forum on yet another sex site, the initial charge was that I breached the T&C, I challenged this, stating that I had not, in any way, broken the T&C, and if they could show that I had I would not only back down and apologise, I would send then a cheque for 100 notes to be given to the charity of their choice.
I got an answer, that I was way too aggressive for the forums, meaning I don’t back down when faced with wimminz bullshit, fair enough, their site, their rules, but even then they cannot be honest about this, “attitude” isn’t covered in the T&C, so the initial reason given was bullshit, no worries, I will keep my 100 notes.
You could sit there and say Layla was a dumb fuck, all that do anything in the bedroom was 60% of the trick, buying me my favourite beer and shit was another 30% of the trick, the remaining 10% was to not try to fucking manipulate me.
But the fact is Layla, and wimminz, don’t work like that, kinky sex isn’t something they do because they enjoy it, which is why I, as a man, do it.
Kinky sex is something they do because it is a way, usually, of achieving control and power and influence over a man, and that is what they enjoy.
Take away the idea that they can ever actually attain that power, or worse still, actually grant that power, and the kinky sex is removed, after all, it was never done for its own sake.
Take away the idea, as I did to Layla, and I am a nasty manipulative and aggressive man, and she is damn grateful she sussed me out before I sucker her in too deep, and she is as pissed as fuck that she wasted 3 months of her life on me, and that’s the 51 year old life, not the 41 year old profile life that is still ten years away from the menopause… lol
Grant that power and you are a pathetic loser of a man.
When the only tool you have is a hammer, everything gets treated like a nail and pounded flat.
When the only tool you have is a cunt…..
It’s a uniquely male trait to look at Layla and think “what a waste“, just as it is a uniquely male trait to look at an old but once great vehicle or piece of machinery and think “what a waste”
But, unlike an old vehicle that has seen better days, Layla is the architect of her own fall, and if you were foolish enough to tamper, she would resist and fight you all the way.
This is why all other late forties onwards feminazi wimminz are so fucking bitter and man hating, they know two things for a fact;
They themselves are 100% responsible for the situation they find themselves in.
They have hit the wall and can no longer delude themselves that their own personal history is a story of steady decline and fall, under their own captaincy.
If you think under 40’s wimminz can be batshit crazy, you ain’t seen nothing, wait until they can see that wall coming in their nightmares, or worse still, after they have hit it… they are as good a definition of insanity as you are likely to find.
Einstein defined insanity as repeating the same actions over and over, hoping for a different outcome.
Older wimminz like Layla, they don’t just repeat the same actions, they fucking double down on the bet every time.
The 3 months she “wasted” on me ain’t more than a chunk of change out of a 41 year H^H^H^ 51 year life, subtract 14 for 37 sexually active years.
The 3 months she “wasted” on me is however a fucking huge bite out of any imagined sexually active years remaining, and Layla is one of these progressive/desperate bitches that goes to the fucking gym every day to try to keep in shape, and has potions and lotions to try to make her skin feel and smell like it did 30 years ago, and all the rest of the finery and drapery and shit.
There was a (white) south african thing about “sperm brothers”, two guys who had fucked the same skank, and only realised it later, over a beer.
Thanks to the internet and technology and sex sites, after a period of time you start to see something, something entirely expected, but nevertheless something deeply warming and pleasant to see.
You start to see that the sperm brothers come in groups, and generally speaking so do the skanks / cum buckets, and individuals tend not to stray out of these groups.
The feral feminazi skank ho’s are one group of cum buckets, and there is an associated group of sperm brothers, but the chances that any of these guys have been anywhere near Layla is slim indeed, for she is in the group of feral the-wall-is-approaching-but-I-only-have-an-accelerator-pedal group of cum buckets, and that has a separate but associated group of sperm brothers.
And then there is the roving “band of raiders” sperm brothers, of which I am one, and we look like a group to those outside, but we only come across one another when some wimminz gets a case of mistaken identity, or assumes we are a crew and drops one name to another, we nomads dip into the various groups of skank ho cumbuckets, like ghosts in the machine.
There are some things I just can’t talk about, and others that I can, but I have to choose my words very carefully, and, sometimes, that act of choosing the words carefully makes talking about that thing pointless, because the redacted bits were an integral part of the story..
So, I wrote something on here nearly 18 months ago, it concerned a “fuck me now” skank I found on PoF… chat on PoF, invited over, fuck the crap out of her, leave… never been back… she is still there on PoF…
Imagine my mirth when this same skank turns up on a different site, and takes a look at my profile and decides to give it a go.
At this stage there are no face pics from me, and no profile pics at all from her, and so as usual I accuse her of being a man unless she can send me some pics, which she does, and I am thinking “I know that bitch”
So (and here we again see the benefit of keeping digital archives in perpetuity, backed up to the cloud of course) I check my records and yup, that’s teh grrrrl.. this could be fun.
So she asks for a face pic of me, and I send one, sitting back, smirking, waiting for the expected reaction. Or, simply being blocked.
And guess what, she carries on like she has never seen me before in her life.
I have mentioned this before in the internet dating stuff about wimminz forgetting who they have and have not selected and rejected in the past, and never to take rejection as permanent, but fuck me, to not remember a guy you invited into your house just over a year ago, a guy who spent several hours plundering all your holes to his heart’s content, and then you’re trying to tell the “new” me that you don’t often fuck, that you often go months without, that you still ain’t into three figures cock count wise…
… and we are not going anywhere near the issue of the PoF profile portraying one thing, and the other profile portraying a filthy whore who will do just about anything (that profile at least is correct)
I mean, WTF, I know you fucking wimminz are as thick as shit, and I know your hamster wheels and temporal narcissism can cause you to re-write some history and simple omit or ignore other bits on a whim as it suits you, but, I have to say…
Do you really think ***I*** won’t remember the cunt I fisted, the ass I pounded, the tits I bit or the face I slapped and pissed on, all at your request bitch, only just over a fucking year ago! WTF
Apparently *you* do wimminz, because otherwise you’d keep a MUCH closer watch on who YOU’VE fucked, so that the scenario I am describing here could never happen.
I can kinda get not caring enough who you fucked a year or two ago to not ever think about them, but to not CLICK when you cross paths with them again…
I was just chatting about this to a mate on the phone, and he joked that I am just pissed that I wasn’t a good enough fuck for her to remember me.
I pointed out that we can both remember skanks we talked to or IM’d or SMS‘d but for one reason or another it never got past that stage.
I ***KNOW*** the memory is in this skank’s head, because I have seen this so often with wimminz, but they really do appear to have the multiple personality schtick where the personality I am talking to now, is not the same personality that holds long term memories, and this personality knows the other one is there, and it could go ask that one and get answer, but just can’t be bothered to…
No wonder hitting the wall is such a major system shock for the skanks.
Wall? what wall? what are you talking about? BLAM! WTF? Boo-hoo…
two quite separate things, that to modern wimminz be one and the same thing…
It’s a bit like the dichotomy between team cunt and men, wimminz fall out with their “best” friends over them both fucking the same man, some time passes and before you know it the two wimminz are best friends again…
I have lost track of the number of wimminz who declare their “love” for me, and then proceed to demand something that love would never grant, but covetousness would… had it yet again today, a wimminz who I grace with my cum on occasion who declares her “love” for me, who is *quite* aware of the fact that the feeling is anything but mutual, then demands to know, on the basis of her “love” for me, who else I am fucking.
Just for shits and giggles and because I like watching the hamster wheel try to precess, I explain it this…
AfOR – “So, let’s say I decide to fall in love with Abbi Seccra, OK?”
skank – “Yeah”
AfOR – “But, she doesn’t love me, OK?”
skank – “Yeah”
AfOR – “So I call her up and demand to know who she is fucking, and I have a right to this info because I love her, even though she doesn’t give a shit about me, right?”
skank – “…well, err, no, BUT THAT’S DIFFERENT… yadda yadda”
I don’t even bother to point out that love involves respect for the other person, while covetousness involves your own avarice and greed, and that nobody who felt even a shred of respect for another person would make demands that certain private information be shared with you, JUST BECAUSE OF HOW YOU FEEL, IRRESPECTIVE OF HOW THEY FUCKING FEEL…
I didn’t bother because I was talking to a wimminz, and talking to a wimminz about concepts like respect is like talking to a termite about concepts like conservation.
Which kinda brings us to the seven deadly sins… so lets run through em for this skank ho…
Lust – check, she wants my cock.
Gluttony – check, she is a fat bitch
Greed – check, give her an inch she demands a mile
Sloth – check, see fat bitch above
Wrath – check, she hates the bitch who wants my cock but hasn’t had it yet
Envy – check, she wishes she was the bitch who stayed last night and woke me up with a hummer
Pride – check, she thinks she is a real catch, despite the fact even if a trawler netted her she still wouldn’t be a catch.
“I know what to do, I just don’t know how to do that and ___________”
Where the blank is “keep getting laid”, or “keep my husband” or “keep my job” or “keep my baby” or in fact KEEP anything.
Personal sacrifice, or rather lack of any personal sacrifice, trumps everything else, especially doing the right thing.
I had a fairly serious girlfriend some years back who wouldn’t TIUTA, her reasoning being she had tried it once with some other guy and hated it, fair enough, but the look of disbelief on her face some time later when the subject of marriage was raised was priceless, as I explained, marriage is all about personal sacrifice for the greater good of the marriage itself, you think there aren’t a whole bunch of things about marriage that I hate as a man… but would sacrifice enduring anyway for the greater good…
And so here we are, three weeks to Christmas, and good will to all men… and the three bears, and that was a fucking fairy story too…
The reality is a long term FWB started to get possessive, so kick to the kerb time, and a couple of short term FWB’s start to get demanding, so kick to the kerb time, and the hookup scene generally has gone a bit “black friday” with manic wimminz on the prowl for the “right” kind of man to tuck into the Christmas turkey with, show off to a few friends and relatives, and see in the New Year with.
When I got too old for toys and Christmas and shit, the wimminz always said Christmas was for the kids, then I grew up some more and got force fed red pills like a foie gras goose, and realised that fuck no, Christmas is exclusively for wimminz.
Not just “for wimminz”, but for wimminz emotional validation and sustenance.
See, like the long term FWB above, it may be Christmas in three weeks, and New Year’s in four, but it is Valentine’s in ten weeks, and all the wimminz know they need some time to work on a man to get him eating enough blue pills to be ready to drop on bended knee come Feb 14th and spring for that ring.
See, like the long ago serious girlfriend above who refused to TIUTA, as I said to her after we parted, or rather as we parted, when she had one last go at the “It is such a shame we didn’t work it out and get married” speech;
“When you denied me access to your ring, you also denied yourself access to a ring from me”
Naturally enough at this point she grudgingly granted me access to her ring… I knew it was a one off deal, and I knew what was expected in exchange, so I fucked her up the ass and then dumped her… in hindsight I look at that more naive me and wince… that could so easily have been followed by her dropping a dime on me to the boys in blue and making a false allegation…
In that instance, I knew what needed to be done, keep myself safe and free from her, but I did not know how, by just walking away and sacrificing my desire to fuck her up the ass, I didn’t know how to do the right thing, and keep the thing I wanted, so I ended up doing the wrong thing.
And on that note I have a man messaging me and asking me to fuck his wife like a dirty slut in all her holes… now there is a man who is burying doing the right thing, in order to keep access to the thing he wants… he isn’t even questioning the universal truth here.
By doing so, you render BOTH yourself AND the thing you want to keep worthless and tainted and iniquitous.
Ironically 24 hours after saying “I have nothing else to say” and thus taking any pressure to say anything off, something happened that caused me to have something to say…
That something is a sense of deja vu, but not quite.
Some 20 odd years ago three separate wimminz came up to me and said “I am pregnant, and it is yours” over a period of 48 hours, so I arranged separately for all three to meet me at a bar at 7 pm sharp, which they did, whereupon I introduced them all to each other, told them all that each said they were pregnant with my child, and that they now need to work out amongst themselves which one I was going to marry.
So here I am, 20 odd years later, and three separate wimminz have come up to me in the past week and basically pledged their love and desire to have a permanent relationshit with me.
Being 20 years older and wiser I’m not about to tell them all to meet me in a bar at 7pm and sort it out…. remember I am a guy in my early fifties, been through the wringer of FRA and kids and assets abducted by psycho skank ho ex and the secret family courts, po-lice, lawyers etc all sticking their nose in the trough.
Wimminz #1 is 40, not the prettiest thing on the planet, works in the health sector, kids flown the nest, been banging her on and off for a year or so, she will do anything I want, but it has to be said she don’t light my fire sexually any more, been there, done that, tick it off, but she is keen and obedient and all that. She has ridden the cock carousel of course.
Wimminz #2 is just over 30, nothing to look at, badly overweight, works in a social services type of job, drinks too much, kids at home, and frankly doesn’t get it. Worth dumping my cum into but that’s about it. She has ridden the cock carousel of course.
Wimminz #3 is just over 30, actually quite fucking hot, overweight but fairly recently and you can still see the solid 9 inside dying to get out, works in sales, no kids. Has ridden the cock carousel but not nearly as much as #1 and #2.
So, there we have it.
What is interesting is this;
From the perspective of my cock throbbing, #3 gets the vote.
From the perspective of letting me get away with shit, #2 gets the vote.
From the perspective of actually doing shit for me, #1 gets the vote.
To be strictly fair, from the perspective for example of doing shit for me #1 has had more time to do more, but has also had more time to fuck up, and hasn’t yet.
To be strictly fair, from the perspective of me just being me, spending a life with #2 would be desperately tedious, her work is everything that is wrong with the country, spending a life with #1 would be ok-ish, her work is valid and good, but nothing I can do or relate to, spending a life with #3 would be fun, her work is neutral but her attitudes and approaches and ethics are something I can relate to.
I’ll give you another one, #1 hates the word cunt, #2 doesn’t use it but doesn’t cringe when I do, #3 loves it and uses it as much as I do.
I’ll give you another one, #1 and #2 are the product of broken homes and crap early relationships that resulted in bastard offspring, #3 has a mummy and a daddy and they are still married to each other.
I’ll give you another one, #3 has by far and away the most expressive face, every thought and emotion that crosses her brain is already written all over her face. #1 and #2 keep stuff hidden and wear masks.
I’ll give you another one, none of these things up above is unrelated.
Has AfOR fallen out of the MGTOW / AWALT tree and landed on his small head?
No, he has not, and he is well aware that the current legal landscape is such that all three can fuck him up in an instant and on a whim were he married to any of them or in a co-habiting relationshit with any of them.
But the fact is that that text in bold above is the secret to #3’s relative lack of negative traits and aspects, everything else comes from that, and so while #1 and #2 talk about long term relationshits (which in the eyes of the law are the same as a fucking marriage) leading to marriage, while #3 talks about marriage….
#3 wants what mummy and daddy have.
#1 and #2 wanting what mummy and daddy have is like a blind man wanting a red house, they don’t even know what the fuck it is.
Judging a man, or a wimminz, by their actions means also judging them by the actions of those whose company they kept, voluntarily in later life, involuntarily in earlier life.
In much the same way that as a time served engineer I have little in common with so called engineers who learned their trade in a college or university or any other way, as a time served child of a mother and father who remained married to each other I have little in common with #1 and #2, and much in common with #3
As a time served engineer I had it easy, compared to my father, back in his day the parents LITERALLY paid the employer / master to take then on for the first year, because a first year apprentice is literally less than useless and literally decreased the output and productivity of the master, but compared to the modern engineering “apprentice”…. makes me puke they dare call themselves that word, shades of “A year ago I couldn’t even spell engineer, and now I are one”
The first engineering tools I had to master were the fucking broom and the kettle, I shit you not.
Then you get given an old “whistler” kettle and the gas axe (oxy acetylene cutting torch) to boil the water for the tea, there is a stock of these for sale to you for exactly one day’s wages each, for when you blow through the bottom of the kettle and all the water leaks out… or… you can grab to scrap from the gash bin and try to “fix” the kettle you just blew a hole through so it will hold water and bring it to the boil with a gas axe.
Then you get given some lumps of soft gash metal, cheap shit like zinc anode material or babbit metal than can be re-melted and re-used, and a metal file and a hacksaw, with ONE fucking blade, and a brass brush to clean the file and saw blade, and a metal vice and a place at a bench.
First make a perfect one inch cube, accurate to ten thou…. that takes you about four fucking days, you learn hands on about materials science, differences in hardness and friction between differing metals such as files, saw blades and the gash, you learn that every time you put the gash in the vice and tightened the vice you deformed it, you learned to file flat and saw straight and square.
Pleased with yourself that the task given to you on a Monday morning has been completed by Friday lunchtime, you are given some more gash metal, this time you must make TWO pieces, one is a U shape and one is a T shape, so that the T shape fits in the U shape perfectly to form a much bigger piece, oh, and you have to be able to rotate the T and U shape with 180 degree symmetry so they fit together perfectly BOTH ways…. no gaps anywhere you can get a ten thou feeler gauge into….. that takes two or three weeks
Failing in these tasks is the end of your apprenticeship, you can fuck off and be a fitter or a grease monkey or a car mechanic…. meanwhile you still have to practice with the broom and the kettle.
Got any lip? I dunno how often I have seen strong tough full of piss and vinegar good in a fight 13 and 14 stone all muscle apprentices punched in the mouth by a 10 stone skinny fucker in their forties or fifties for giving some lip, and they learned they may have double the muscle mass of the old fart, but the old fart was all HARD muscles that basically spent 8/10 hours a day in the “gym” of the shops, that and sinew and bone… apprentices all had broken teeth, me included. On the other hand I still have all my limbs and fingers and toes, which was the result of those lessons not to lip your elders and betters and FUCKING LISTEN.
So I tell some young cunt today who thinks they are time served that it took me 4 weeks to learn how to use a fucking file and a hacksaw, and it is like the blind man wanting a red house or the modern #1 or #2 wimminz wanting a relationshit.
The young shits not only do not know how to use a file or hacksaw, they cannot even begin to judge or guess how much they do not know, or how greatly that lack impacts EVERY SINGLE OTHER ASPECT of their so called professional skill.
#3 may be just over half my age, but she was time served, old school, growing up in a house with a mummy and daddy who were married to each other and stayed together.
Sure, #3 is AWALT, same as #1 and #2, which I can’t respect, but #3 is old school time served, which I can.
Out of respect for #3’s time served status ALONE, I would not put her in a bar with #1 and #2 and tell all three to work it out between themselves.
On a related note, I know it doesn’t seem that way at first blush, I hear from emails that YET AGAIN Bill over at the Spearhead is holding the fucking begging bowl out.
Judge a man (or a wimminz) by their actions, not what they say.
After her marriage broke down, Jenny Beard knew finding love again wouldn’t be easy. Not only was she 42 and the sole carer of her six-year-old son Will, but her demanding career as an accountant left her with precious little time to socialise.
Ah, the old euphemism, like after her car broke down, so after she juked her marriage she realised the was over the hill at 40, and frankly “career as an accountant” don’t mean shit, 40 years ago we would have been honest and called her a “book-keeper”
Nonetheless, she didn’t want to be alone forever, so when she heard about an internet dating site for single parents like herself, she joined without a second thought, Jenny told Channel 4 News in a programme that will be aired tonight.
Yes, I am so upset by this unwanted exposure that I decided to expose myself on national TV
Describing her interests as ‘going to the theatre and restaurants, enjoying country walks as long as they feature a tea shop’, she was hopeful she would meet mature, like-minded men who understood the difficulties of bringing up a child alone.
Well those are fucking lies to start with, she was looking for the cock and a walking wallet, as 100% of wimminz on these dating sites are.
What she didn’t expect was to find herself posted as a ‘hot date’ on cheesy lads’ magazine sites, and bombarded by spam emails from people who didn’t even exist — or if they did, had anything but a country walk in mind.
Jenny Beard was shocked to find her pictures, submitted to a singe-parents dating site, on sleazy lads mag sites
I keep telling people, read the fucking small print, any pic you upload set to PUBLIC becomes the website owners property to do with as they wish… and this shit applies to Fuckbook too.
Besides, as we can see from the article pic, Jenny is a fat bitch, and even worse, owns a fucking Compaq….
Over the course of the four years Jenny has been on the site, not one of the men she met has been a member of justsingleparents.com where she originally posted her profile. Not one of them had even heard of it. Alarmingly, half were not parents at all and only one had a child the same age as her son.
4 years is 48 months, as it says later in the article, she was paying £20 a month for this site, so that’s £960 down the drain.
Worse still, her picture and profile have been plastered across tawdry dating websites belonging to ‘lads mags’ such as Nuts and Loaded that are more associated with scantily-clad girls in semi-pornographic poses than professional, middle-aged women like Jenny.
Allegedly professional middle aged wimminz like Jenny can and do slut it up at least as well as the porno wimminz, ask me how I know.
She is just one victim in an extraordinary dating scam exposed by two industry whistle-blowers.
Oh I get it, she is a victim… nice to be born with a cunt, where none of the consequences of your actions are ever your fault, they are someone else’s.
Unbeknown to Jenny, justsingle parents.com is run by a parent company called Global Personals — a legitimate company most members never will have heard of, but which passes members’ details freely between the 7,500 sites it owns, meaning they are inundated with unwanted and inappropriate advances.
Unbeknown to Jenny, these umbrella structures of companies owned by companies that are themselves owned by other companies are the norm nowadays, with the very rare exceptions of the small independent firms and sole traders.
FUNNY HOW A FUCKING ACCOUNTANT DOES NOT KNOW THIS.
The company has also created ‘fake’ profiles, by lifting photographs off the internet, and ordering staff to flirt with unsuspecting members, outrageously flattering them into renewing their subscriptions.
I have discussed this specifically, and much else, in the Internet Dating series of articles.
Disturbingly, their deception has proved an unqualified success. Global Personals — whose headquarters are in Windsor, Berkshire — makes £40 m a year, employs 130 staff and is believed to take a 40 per cent cut of every membership subscription, with the remainder going to the spin-off company.
And at 20 quid a month, or £240 a year, that makes 40,000,000 / 240 = 167,000 stupid bitches like Jenny paying up every year.
But it is at the expense of women like Jenny, now 46, who is astounded by the way in which she has been duped.
Not as duped as the guys expecting a vivacious intelligent young at heart and attractive 40 year old single mum would have been, which is how Jenny will have been advertising herself.
‘Internet dating seemed the best way of meeting people,’ she says. ‘But I’m shocked by how many sites I’ve ended up on. It’s upsetting and annoying. I’m nobody’s idea of a Nuts hot date. It’s the last place you would expect to find me and a waste of time and money.
Baby, you are nobody’s idea of a hot date, period… welcome to the real world of your SMV.
‘I’m not surprised they’re making up people. I’ve received no end of emails from men who say they like my smile, but clearly haven’t seen my profile. I won’t be renewing my subscription.’
You’re the product, bitch, just like your ex hubby was to you…
Certainly, Jenny’s experience serves as a cautionary tale to those tempted by the increasingly popular world of online romance, said to be worth £2 billion globally. She first started internet dating in September 2008, eight months after her seven-year marriage ended.
At least, that is what she says, of course we all know her eye was roving long before she dropped the hammer on her ex.
Fake profiles were created by a team scouring social networking sites and stealing people’s photos to use on their fake profiles
No, it’s built into the software, I have discussed this before.
‘I have a serious job. My options for meeting men are limited,’ she says. ‘This seemed the best way.’
Word up bitch, pen pushing in an office with other clucking hens is not a “serious job”
She began by joining a site called Plenty of Fish, but, within weeks she realised it was unsuitable.
Ah yes, and a wealth of meaning in that word “unsuitable”, as in it did not fit in with pwincess’s aspirations and hamster wheel rationalisations.
‘It’s hard to say without sounding snobby but I’m a professional person with a degree,’ she explains.
Hey bitch, I AM a mother fucking professional, with more than one degree, and they are REAL fucking degrees, hard physical science and engineering.
‘It was very good for meeting dustmen, builders and mechanics who are perfectly nice but not right for me.
And this line is the lead up to the money shot, there are plenty of degree qualified people on PoF, but there are also a whole load of working stiffs, and that was the problem for Jenny, she wanted working stiffs pre-excluded from her own personal dating pool.
She thinks she is better than that.
‘Apart from anything else, it’s free and attracts people with less money. I thought finding a paid service would be more appropriate.’
Bingo, the money shot, literally, as discussed elsewhere on here, Jenny is looking for the next fucking meal-ticket, so made the fallacious, stupid and typically female assumption that a pay-per website is going to transport her to the land of the Amex black card.
So she researched online and came across justsingleparents.com. With membership costing £20 a month and members all purportedly having experienced single parenthood, she was more likely to meet like-minded people, she reasoned.
Bitch, people SEEKING something, especially those seeking something that presents them with personal gain, are the LAST MOTHERFUCKERS ON THE FUCKING PLANET to employ REASON.
‘I wanted to meet people with children because they understand that anyone else in my life won’t be my top priority,’ she says.
I have discussed this elsewhere too, but the bitch comes out and says it two lines after the money shot, you won’t be my fucking priority Mr Wallet, you will come AFTER me, and AFTER my kids, and that ain’t never gonna change until you come AFTER my divorce lawyer too, which her ex and the father of her kid knows all about….
Her son Will, who’s now ten, also was keen to see his mum with someone nice ‘to look after her’
Shame deadbeat daddy who was good enough to fuck, marry and bleed dry then kick to the kerb doesn’t qualify.
But what Jenny didn’t realise was that when she joined justsingleparents.com that she would be exposed on websites she’d previously never heard of.
Jenny has a lot more brutal “I didn’t realise” in here future, and that is even without the economy tanking…
Worryingly, the practice, while misleading, is perfectly legal. It is called ‘white-labelling’ and happens when a product produced by one company, such as Global Personals, is rebranded by other companies — in this case dating websites.
And when Saab stick a badge on a Ford chassis, etc etc ad inmotherfucking finitum.
and when Apple stick an iCrap logo on a Foxconn product.
Hey, that Compaq on your desktop wasn’t made in any Compaq factory
Who knew?
Everyone on the planet with a functioning brain, ESPECIALLY MOTHERFUCKING ACCOUNTANTS WHO SPECIFICALLY DEAL WITH THIS VERY TOPIC EVERY FUCKING DAY. Internet dating amongst those aged 50-plus has risen by 40 per cent in the last year
You seen the fucking price of beer lately?
Also, in a bid to boost their revenue, the company was specifically employing staff whose sole job it was to set up and run fake profiles on the dating sites, to keep members interested. Within weeks, Jenny got her first warning signal: She’d begun emailing a fellow single parent from her area and the pair had swapped phone numbers:
Yeah, I have a cloud full of cunt pictures from wimminz who “swapped phone numbers” with me, prior to bouncing up and down on my cock.
‘I texted him and said “it’s Jenny from Just Single Parents” and he replied “what?”’ she recalls. ‘He’d never heard of the agency. I was put on the back foot and so flummoxed I didn’t contact him again.’
Cheapskate obviously not a premium bit of wallet, was he Jenny…
It was another member, Jenny recalls, who explained that their details were passed around various dating sites: ‘I felt put out and rather stupid,’ she says.
That’s perfectly natural, because you are rather stupid, and rather fat, and rather over the hill.
Nonetheless, as the months passed, she was sent three emails a day from unlikely suitors, who ranged in age from 22 to 73. ‘I deleted them before reading,’ she says. ‘I can’t remember any being particularly crude, but maybe they were and I never saw them.’
At least, that is what she claims in the national press, but all of us internet daters know the truth.
Jenny says she quickly suspected some of the identities were fake. ‘I know I got emails that weren’t from real people,’ she told Channel 4 News. ‘You’d ask a man a question, such as how many children he had, and would get a reply tell you how happy they are they’ve met you.’
That don’t mean they are fake bitch, just means they are looking to dump some cum, not get into a discussion about kids they are no longer allowed to see with an asswipe bitch not so different from their ex.
Describing her interests as ‘enjoying country walks as long as they feature a tea shop’ Jenny hoped to meet a man who shared her passions, but was sadly disappointed
Shit happens when you lie through your fucking teeth on a dating profile…
If dating profiles were honest every beach around here would be crammed with masses of humanity crowded in like dogs in a chinese takeaway delivery truck…
She adds: ‘You don’t realise to start with that these companies they have “ice breaker” messages saying “I like your profile” or “you’ve got a lovely smile” that are sent to all the women in East Sussex between the ages of 35 and 55. You’d reply and wouldn’t hear back. After a while you realise a lot of the messages you get are sent to hundreds of people, not just you.’
Yeah bitch, like your bullshit profile, which was intended to be seen by hundreds of people, not just the one man you had eyes for…..
Yet Jenny — fuelled by hope that she would meet someone genuine — carried on using the site. At times, however, she became so exasperated with the process that she cancelled her membership.
Someone completely fake wanting to meet someone “genuine”
Oh woe is me, I can see her profile now “where have all the good men gone” and “tired of kissing frogs”
‘Cancelling was a faff — you couldn’t do it online and would have to call someone in working hours,’ says Jenny, who spent hundreds of pounds on subscription fees.
Sounds like broadband to me… >;*)
‘I remember one email I got that persuaded me to re-join was from a good-looking, wealthy single father who ran his own building business,’ says Jenny. ‘Part of me suspected it was too good to be true, but I replied anyway.’ And, surprise surprise, she never heard back.
Greedy cunt, got played, makes a change from being the player doesn’t it, bitch.
Over the course of four years, she met up with just eight men in person. Not one of them was from justsingleparents.com, half didn’t have children at all.
Again, that is what she is claiming NOW.
‘I only met most of them once, for a drink,’ she says. ‘One, a store manager, had joined a website called Old Flirt. He was my age but, had I known the site he was on, I would have hauled him out on the grounds that it was a ridiculous name.
Whereas justsingleparents is so fucking CLASSY… rofl
‘Another was a bus driver. There were two retired people. They came from geographical and rock music dating sites. One came from a site called Derbyshire Singles. One didn’t even know I had a son, which was the whole point. It made me think my profile might have been edited. I was perplexed.’
I know, fancy someone doing a menial job like driving for a living contacting you….
As Jenny had suspected, she was not the only one being duped — and not the most vulnerable.
Here we go, vulnerable…. if you are so fucking vulnerable, you should have your fucking legal right to make choices in life stripped from you.
Channel 4 News investigators spoke to whistle-blower Ryan Pitcher, who joined the company in 2008 and a second, unnamed, employee, who detailed the suspicious way in which they were recruited, when they were warned they were not to discuss their duties with family and friends.
I used to work doing road resurfacing during one dry patch, the job sucked and you git tar on everything, maybe I can rebrand myself as a whistleblower and a victim….
Finding fake profiles was a secretive and calculated process, with the team scouring social networking sites and stealing people’s photos to use on their fake profiles: ‘You’d take Helga from Iceland and make her into Helen from Manchester and write a profile,’ says Ryan. ‘You’d use her features and invent a whole new person.’
No, you wouldn’t, because this is built into the motherfucking software, you just select the number of fake profiles, say 10,000, the sex and demographic and racial and geographic spreads, click “GO” and wait a second or two for the software to do its thing.
I know, because unlike Ryan Pitcher I have done work for these sites at above a menial level.
The role of the fake profiles — or ‘pseudos’ as they were called by employees — was to email members flirtatious messages to entice them into continuing their subscriptions. Up to 400 messages an hour were sent by the team who frequently coerced their victims into intimate text conversations.
And one of the VERY VERY VERY few dating sites on the entire fucking planet that does NOT do this is PoF, but then it is full of horrible beta cock dustmen and bricklayers and mechanics.
‘You’re talking about thousands of messages which means millions of pounds in subscription fees,’ says Ryan. It seems they were targeted specifically at the sites’ most vulnerable members.
You appear to have mis-spelled gullible Ryan
Buy the new iPhone5
Same shit, EXACTLY the same shit, it’s called MARKETING, those of us with a brain call it SPAM.
‘A lot of the people on the site aren’t the most attractive people,’ he admits. ‘If they’re not getting replies from real people after a month, they’re going to sign off. The pseudo team could string along a girl or guy for up to 24 months. It is all about money, all about greed. With fake profiles you can get 50 per cent more revenue, sometimes even more.’
You’re right Ryan, Jenny is fugly, but hey, IT IS A MOTHERFUCKING SUBSCRIPTION SERVICE, the whole business model falls apart if all your customers meet the love of their lives and quit after one month….
My fucking broadband is a subscription service, and I still have never had what they advertise… can I sue too? Oh, no, I don’t have a cunt.
If the member wanted to pursue a relationship with a pseudo, or even have a telephone conversation, they would be brushed off before being replaced by another pseudo.
‘It’s all about stringing them along on tenterhooks with that pretence that eventually they’ll meet up or swap telephone numbers,’ says Ryan.
Whereas skank ho’s like Jenny are NOT about stringing guys along on tenterhooks with the promise of cunt if they open their wallets with some fine dining etc???
Give me a fucking break.
Stark warning: Jenny believes she was not given sufficient information about the site, others on it, or how her information would be used
right there on the home fucking page, the terms this bitch AGREED TO when signing up, and all the allegedly “hidden” info this article claims to “expose”
Like em or loathe em, the website in question is 100% open and up front about who owns it, what they can do with your data, etc etc etc.
‘But as soon as that comes into play you move on. There were loads of cop-outs you could use.
‘Most people were talking to more than one pseudo. Some people were only talking to fake people.’
Whereas Jenny is what, a REAL fucking woman? Give me a fucking break.
All of which is incredibly unpalatable. Ryan admits the deception started to trouble his conscience:
Ryan like every other employee, male and female, at the places takes the job because the money is crap but you get to meet and fuck lots of punters… that’s the truth.
Ryan probably stepped over the data protection line or spent all day goofing off on fuckbook and got shitcanned, and now he, like Jenny, is claiming to be something he ain’t, an innocent victim.
‘After a while you’d see the same old men and women; widows, for example, who wanted to find love. You’re just stringing them along to get money out of their pensions. That did play on my mind.’
Well, it did after he was no longer able to draw a salary, paid for by said subs…..
Meanwhile, his bosses grew richer and ever omnipresent in the dating industry. They have a database of 2.2 million people — every one of whom is believed to be accessible across its network of sites.
And?
Fuckbook knows your girlfriend / wife is pregnant before you do, often before SHE does, so does Tesco, the beat goes on…
Those of us in the know warned over a decade ago that the problem wasn’t databases, it was databases being connected to other databases and the data mining opportunities it presented… did anyone listen? Did they fuck.
It is the sheer variety of websites Jenny has been made available to that shocked her the most when Channel 4 contacted her a fortnight ago to tell her their findings — and which finally persuaded her to cancel her subscription.
What, channel 4 mastered whois and an IP block lookup… hot shit
Course, channel 4 is the old MSM, and hates the intertubez
A spokesman for Global Personals told the Mail: ‘When members subscribe to one of our sites, they are advised in the terms and conditions that their details will be made available to members of different sites on the relevant shared database.
Exactly.
‘Our job is to get our members in front of as many other members as possible. Members on any of these sites can apply filters to ensure they are not contacted by anyone they don’t want to be. Global Personals was one of the first online dating companies to stop using pseudo profiles. ’
Exactly
But Jenny doesn’t believe sufficient warning was given. ‘It should be made a lot clearer how many sites you’re getting in to,’ she says.
How clear can they fucking get? Read those links above.
What are they supposed to say Jenny?
WARNING!
STUPID CUNT ALERT!
YOU ARE A WIMMINZ AND AWALT AND TOO STOOPID AND DISHONEST TO USE TEH INTERTUBEZ TO GET LAID!
‘It’s upsetting and annoying that you don’t know where your picture is going to end up. Clearly someone who is reading Nuts is not going to be interested in me, just as I am not going to be interested in them. You should be able to opt out.’
You wait till you find your face on an advert for a Herpes Clinic, which could legally happen, since you signed over ownership and copyright of your public profile photos WHEN YOU SIGNED UP AND AGREED TO THE T&C that you were too fat lazy and stupid to actually read.
Trading Standards in Windsor say they have ‘on-going dealings’ with Global Personals regarding their alleged use of fake profiles. Yet the company remains unrepentant.
Of course, they haven’t broken a single fucking law, what should they be repentant about.
They told the Mail: ‘Global Personals was one of the first online dating companies to stop using pseudo profiles. Global Personals scaled down pseudo profiling throughout 2009 and all pseudo profiles were removed by February 2010.’
Could well be true, in part.
For Jenny, it is too little too late. Still single, she has cancelled her subscription with justsingleparents.com and will be more cautious about internet dating in future.
Some fat frumpy fugly over the hill wimminz cancels her dating profile, please explain to me how this is a loss for the dating game?
‘You’ve got to be emotionally strong as you’re set up for an enormous amount of disappointment,’ she says, adding: ‘I don’t know how I’ll meet a man. The odds are stacked against it.’
Especially now you’ve outed yourself with the money shots above….
