He is quite a man. He has a chiseled jaw-line and a thick head of hair. He’s got just the right build, a muscular physique like Sylvester Stallone, with baby-soft skin, all except for a small patch of thin, curly hair on his chest. He has the perfect amount of facial hair, enabling him to go a few days without shaving, and the dark “stubble” on his face looks full and good. He’s almost Don Jaun-ish in appearance. His teeth are pearly white and his legs the kind that look good in tennis shorts. He’s “buff,” but not so buff as to be a turn-off. He fills the “tall, dark, and handsome” roll very well. When he walks by a crowd of women, they think to themselves, “um, um, um, um, um!”
And these are just the outward traits; inwardly, he has a deep, booming voice with a slightly European ring to it. He is sociable and romantic. He likes doing the things his would-be wife or girlfriend likes doing. He is a fine communicator. He loves to talk, and he never falls asleep immediately after sex. He plays right into her fantasies.
He plays into her fantasies because he is from her fantasies; for all practical purposes, he doesn’t exist. Such a match is so hard to find that it is one in ten million—even with the help of the internet! The odds of finding a bad side-less catch like this are nearly out of this world, and yet this doesn’t stop good-looking women from trying like Hell to find one and complaining to their girlfriends when they can’t. And she doesn’t give up easily. Just because she hasn’t yet found “Mr. Right” doesn’t mean she won’t, so she looks long and hard. She combs the singles sites with the same superficial and unoriginal bullshit in her profile when she lists as her desires…long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, horseback riding, hiking, and camping. It’s the same “knight in shining armor” bullshit you’ve always heard. The images in her head are so grand, but soon enough, she’ll come back down to earth.
Every “hot” woman has faced this dilemma (and I am speaking exclusively of the hotties here); she has two choices of men--hot or hideous! Well, okay, maybe not hideous; maybe just hot or on the lesser side of average. Initially, her standards are high – inflexibly high – like those of a high school jock who thinks he can have his pick among the finest ladies. He has no idea that his choices will be cut in half five years out of high school when a receding hairline begins to cut across the right and left sides of the front of his scalp. Men readily compromise on options, but with pretty women, it is a much slower process. Women retain their outlooks longer. A certain demoralizing must take place in a woman’s highly conflicted brain before she will be realistic about her “men problems” that she can’t seem to fix.
Sure, she’s hot, so she can have a hot, washboard-abbed guy with movie star good looks, but she isn’t happy with any one of the dozen she slept with so far and now wishes she hadn’t. What was wrong with them? Well, first, they are young airheads. They laugh a lot and sound immature. They refer to their running buddies as “dudes” and “hombres.” Their hair is gelled and spiked. They have no wrinkles but can’t hold down an intelligent conversation to save their toga partying lives. They might not even be out of college yet, but they want on-command blowjobs like they’re already CEOs, and they’ll cheat on their girlfriends as they have opportunity. They’ll stay out late and drink bourbon till the proverbial cows come home. In despicable states of drunkenness, they’ll go into distasteful detail on what they liked or didn’t like about their most recent lay—and this behind their sex partner’s backs. They have no shame. Ten years ago, they were in middle school, getting sent to the principal’s office for shooting spit-wads in the cafeteria, and now they are describing the smell of vaginal extracts to a table-full of so-called “friends,” much to their partner’s hurt.
And they know nothing about life. They don’t have any life wisdom. They’ve never faced depression, dismemberment, disease, or divorce. They’re babies who, though trying to educate themselves, are still ignorant and naïve enough to think that they have a life philosophy. They don’t have one yet. They are STD-spreading, heartbreaking fools who offer no woman anything constructive. They are on the moral and social level of an alley cat with a half-bitten-off ear and chunks of hair missing from its underbody. Their coaches and parents may have been proud of them growing up, but they would be better off hitting a tree in a drunken stupor on the ride home from a fraternity drink-off. Women hate them and everything they stand for, as I believe they should.
But what about the mature class of good-looking guys? What about finding a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe just a good-looking guy at a club who happens to have a decent job? What about a rap star or a famous athlete? Hotties, if you’re looking for one of these high-rollers, good fucking luck finding one that is not already taken—and if, per chance, you find one, he’ll be a prickly pear; you’ll sign a prenup before you get established as “his woman,” and with all that, he’ll be older, and you’ll find yourself overlooking little things that seem not to bother you at first, but these will be things that you will take notice of later, like crow’s feet and thinning hair (and of course, a dick that doesn’t stay eternally hard during intercourse like a seventeen year old’s does). Sure, he knows his way around the female body better, but even this gets old. When you see how shrewd he can be, and when the love-charm that has taken hold of you begins to wear off, your fickle mind will start taking notice of those little faults more than ever before. Then you’ll be aiming to get a young hottie again!
Alright, so the readily available “hot” guy is out of the picture for women (except for women who tend to be self-esteem cases and whose true love is a life of off-the-cuff and unfulfilling one night stands), but generally, women don’t want that life. But what about that ordinary good-looking guy from the club with a decent job we mentioned, hotties? If you met him in a place of semi-ill-repute, what more can be said? But more than that, he’ll have “commitment issues,” that will make him almost as out-of-the-question as the airhead college punks we spoke of earlier.
How about just an ordinary guy, ordinary in every way, a non-stunner, a no-head-turner? Maybe he works as a male nurse at a local hospital. There’s not that much to him, but he’s “alright.” This is a tall order to fill; to find a “good guy,” or even an “alright guy” with excellent morals and integrity, as well as a healthy self-image (naturally, we are dismissing the egotists, mama’s boys, and the emotionally disturbed fucknuts). What do you have now? A boring, uninteresting person with no strong opinions on anything, and who tells unfunny jokes—in every respect a hopelessly average guy, who never excites you, never charms you, and never turns you on at all! He’s not “gross,” but you won’t give him a second thought.
Well, other than hopelessly average, what other options in the “average guy” class are there? Answer: religious fanatics and brainiacs. Religious fanatics will proudly treat their women to missionary style sex on a Friday night. And then there is the obsessive-compulsive brainiac who is as socially off-balance as a vagrant with turret’s syndrome. Let’s say you go with a religious chap; you might be taken by this “sweet guy,” and he may never be eye-ing up other girls in public, but by the time you’re thirty, you feel like you’ve never gotten to live. Religious hang-ups and prejudices against oral sex will get in the way. You could have done much worse, but you sold yourself short! Such guys will be pudgy around the waist or worse, and the same criticism will apply to pencil-pushers. A tanless geek with no chemistry might be the better choice here, but the pencil-pusher has other hang-ups; he tends to be perfectionistic and obsessive (myself a case in point!) and tends not to be a romantic game-player. Women play games, and men who hold down successful relationships have learned to play those games by the rules, but the intellectual is too much of an anomaly to be a good mate. This goes to prove the point that looks are a bigger factor into women’s thinking than we are led to believe. Anyone who says “women care about the inside of a man more than they do the outside” is full of shit, just as some cocksucker who says “love is all you need to make a relationship work” is a numbnuts shitcake.
Hot women hate average men—and there is such a thing as too ordinary. No girl who is “a looker” wants a completely ordinary guy of average height and weight, walking her hand-in-hand in public. She wants someone with exceptional qualities (at least some); a strong, Jewish brow line or a protruding Roman nose is better than a man with a small, totally average face. A woman can find a guy with nice (or tolerable) facial and bodily features; the problem is, the much wanted outside and inside qualities just aren’t found in the same packages often enough! It takes your good-looking woman time to learn this; only after years of bad relationships does she realize she will have to do what we males learned to do years earlier—to settle for someone who is not our physical equal.
My ex-wife was fatter than I thought she would be. Her face was thicker and her neck shorter than I imagined I would accept. This is not to say I didn’t find her attractive. I did, but she “wasn’t my type” on first glance. She grew on me (and later, grew away from me, but that’s another story!). The point is, men learn these sort of lessons faster; before the average fellow can find a mate, the notion of marrying a tall brunette with an hourglass figure has to go.
Time teaches men about women. A playboy model looks great when you’re in high school, but once you’ve been exposed to real girls, your expectations all of the sudden change. Before you know it, you begin to look back and notice which of your girlfriends had the fewest stretch marks, and that girl becomes your new standard, since girls without some stretch marks are damn hard to find. Hey, is “cottage cheese” on the back of the legs or varicose veins really that bad? Nah, not really. A gal’s knockers differ very slightly in size from one another. Her nipples are also flawed, uneven in some way. These flaws make her not less but more appealing because the man realizes when forking her that his sexual “kill” is straight from the wild, and not from some silicone factory. There’s something to be said for purely natural beauty.
It’s a fact that the majority of straight men who are married or are committed in a relationship settled for their women. A man grows to love his woman. He loves her and her cup size, whatever it is. He learned to love her vagina and waist, her shoulders and forearms – even the freckle patterns on her skin which he came to memorize while laying in bed together with her all those years – he loves it all (if only for a while). Then they were together too long. She may have gotten boring, but if their companionship lasted, he still loves her. He doesn’t want anyone else. He is at least content. He can see a much hotter piece of ass somewhere and knows that the female body is the female body; images of that off-limits tail will be racing through his mind, making his average-or-less wife hotter as he’s moving in and out of her, sweating and making his knees sore, calling out her name. He’s satisfied. That’s love!
There are so few “childhood sweetheart” stories out there. Yes, women have to settle too. Married ladies, the man you married you settled for. Like two old crows, you found each other, and because you didn’t think you could do any better, you let him hook you. And like he did with you, you learned to love him, even with his flaws, the number of which grew as the years passed. He didn’t have back hair to start with. Then, when he turned thirty, it covered him and slowly became grey. He had a cute face and a decent body (maybe), but it took him years to learn to really please you, and even then, he still isn’t all that. You’ve had other lovers who were better in the sack. You just love him, and that is supposed to make him “good,” but that emotional connection doesn’t do everything, nor does the sending of flowers and cards in place of failed erections. And his penis just looks weird. It always did. The average man stands six inches long when erect, but he might be a five-and-a-half-er at best.
You never liked his knotty knees or his funny-looking bowlegs. You settled for him back then, but today, you’d give anything to have him look as sharp as he did when you met him! You tell yourself you love him, and you do, but in your heart of hearts, there was a time early on when a teeny, tiny part of you wished you’d waited for the next young buck. So unmarried, hot gals, take a lesson from the aged married woman; the guy you end up marrying or living with will not be the guy of your dreams, your fucking “handsome prince” from a storybook, and you know this deep down, which is why you bicker and fight so often with your current guy. It does suck accepting that our once new car is now old, and to listen as all the neighborhood kids put it down, talking about how the newer model kick its ass in so many ways. But if you don’t want to take it from me, or from the beaten-in married ladies, take it from your own mother; your mother settled for her man!
Yes, like mom and dad before you, you must settle for someone if you want to have a relationship. But how can you find happiness in a relationship? It won’t happen, not really. You won’t find the perfect man, and infact, you may literally shoot him in the head for abusing you or your children, but that’s a chance you take. Who should you settle for to give a relationship the best chance of working? Who will you be happiest with? In want of a perfect answer, choose the man who can surprise you most often. Choose the man who is the most unique to you, but choose from two types of men, and never seek a man who is your intellectual equal! Look for a man to dominate you (who is above you), or a man to dominate (who is beneath you). Look for your man to play a particular role in your life; size him up; follow or lead, but again, NEVER look for an equal, a well-rounded man—a guy who would be a good father and a good husband, responsible and fun-loving, one your parents like to talk to and you love to converse with. That’s the kind of thinking that fucks up your already emotionally overrun mind. A woman knows the moment she looks at a man whether or not she’ll let him mount her. Don’t let that factor into your decision. If he’ll work sexually, then seek out uniqueness. And from there, it’s a crapshoot. Even then your relationship might still fall apart, and you may be watching him masturbate right beside you in bed, loathing every minute of it before the divorce papers arrive. But at least you gave it your best shot.
Now you can pick up the pieces and start again, or you can accept what every lesbian knows and what every heterosexual girl with a bad dating track-record suspects—that only a woman can please a woman! That truth is going to stand when the world is on fire! Ladies, you don’t need a guy. You only thought you did. Buy some toys and get a life partner that resembles a young man fresh out of high school to experience true love and fulfillment in every way. She’ll be the only “dude” who really understands, the only one who can truly empathize with the woman’s plight. She’ll unravel the tangled pile of coat hangers that is your mind in ways no man could ever do. Get a woman! That’s the magic answer. But if that option is not for you, then…well, I can’t help you.