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%.
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…
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 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.