I used to say, often, that I never paid for sex, and this was true, even when I was running a bar that catered to the US 6th fleet and got freebies from the girls, I was fucking whores and not paying for it…
Yet, in many ways it is also true that I never got sex for free, even the casual meaningless one off swingers site hookup involved the cost of a PC, the electric it used, the internet connection, and the extra hot water and soap shower afterwards.
Now I could talk about certain romantic days in the year, which could be any day with a “y” in it, or absence making the heart grow fonder, or whatever, but the fact is da wimminz have quiet periods too, and sometimes they will get to thinking of you, and, if you haven’t made it too unpleasant on them hamster wheel wise last time, who knows, maybe they will drop a dime on you.
And so it is, a couple of the lads are around, because frankly it is fucking pissing it down here, (this pic is my “recycling” bin, the fuckers left the lid open last collection, 19 days ago, as it was empty, nothing to recycle, so this is 19 days rain…) and I have the heating on and endless supplies of good coffee and chillin’ sounds, and we are discussing shit like all the crap games on Steam, it’s like yank TV, 999 channels and nothing I want to watch, although Crysis 2 did get another outing last night, and new years resolutions.
So yes, my resolution for this year is get the bobber back together, road legal and on the road, it’s been too fuckin’ long, so that was discussed a little…
… and my phone goes, an SMS…
So, there is this chick, we have been on and off, fucking wise, a couple of times already, off because she goes off on some hamster wheel insanity, on because when she isn’t on the hamster wheel insanity I connect to her quite well and the sex is fucking great, I don’t mind admitting this, I don’t see the problem, am I only supposed to fuck stuff I find revolting? How does that work?
So, the SMS pops up, and this point I’d better mention that one of these guys is a dude I have known for many years, married with kids now and freely admits his wife is nuts, but.. you know the score, at least he is getting his oats regular and there are the kids to think of, and the other guy is someone I have known 3 or 4 years, and this new years is his first anniversary of a nasty break up, he spent last new years in a police cell as a result… so…
The SMS pops up, and I get the oh noes you’re not really going to talk to the skank again are you schtick, and I am like, sure I am, the fucking was damn good, and it may be on the cards again if I play it cool…
But dude, they both chime in, look at the money you spent on the bitch….
So I had to explain the following points;
- Yes, I did spend considerably more money when I was in her company than I would have spent had I been sat at home alone for those same periods of time.
- A goodly proportion of that money was spent on me, for example if I buy her ingredients so she can cook me a meal that I like.
- A reasonable proportion of the money was spent on her, in such a way that at the point of spending I knew I was never going to see that money again, and that is the attitude I took while spending it, that it was being spent, never to be seen again.
- Despite all this “needless expenditure on a wimminz” I remain firmly in credit with the bank, all bills paid, zero debt, etc etc etc, so essentially I was spending money I could afford to spend.
- Even if you take the worst case scenario, paint it black as possible, include everything you possibly could and call it money spent on the skank, yes, that way it adds up to a large number, call it X bucks, but when you divide that number by the number of hours I spent in her company….. call it Y hours…
- I got, all together, five or six months of sexual entertainment, and some comforts and shit too, so that Y hours really is pretty significant, and as far as the X bucks, the married guy visiting spends more than that on being married in two weeks, and the first anniversary single guy spent more than that in fines in one night for punishment for decking the bitch, a straight right into the mouth, she flies back unconscious, in response to her spending 27 seconds (as recorded by CCTV) slapping him around the face for talking to “another girl” in the bar, the other girl being the chick he used to see every month when paying his rent to the flat rentals agency.
I wouldn’t like to sit here and give an actual number for the sum X bucks total / Y hours total and get an hourly rate, the margin for error is about the same magnitude as the number, so we are talking something of the order of a buck fifty / two bucks an hour, plus or minus up to 100%
So, the point of all this.
I would struggle, I really would, with the idea of handing over 50 quid or 100 bucks for an hour with a whore, or whatever the going rates are now for a HOT young 20’s all holes open for business whore.
It’s not the paying for it, it is too much money for not enough time is all.
Fifty quid / 100 bux for two hours I’d go for it, 50 for three hours I’d block book in advance.
Similarly, I struggle with the whole “girlfriend experience” thing, because it involves not just money, which I spend when I am with the skank in question, but time spent doing what SHE wants, which I do NOT do when I am with the skank in question.
Yes, I have spent significant amounts of money while being in this skanks company, over a period of 5 months or so, but as an hourly rate it prolly works out less than what I have spent on Steam, and it is money spent on MY leisure time, I wouldn’t be whining about spending money on a holiday to Acapulco, and dividing it by the number of times I got laid on that holiday, because I did other things than just getting laid, and the same holds true here.
Essentially, I didn’t do anything out of character, or that wasn’t selfish or in my own self interests, in fact the only way you can really fault it is from the “girlfriend experience” perspective, where you spent time with someone because you love them and they love you…sic..
Hell, if you want to talk about being a loser, look at this guy.
But even then you can say at least he got food in exchange for his money, even if his stated purpose was a complete failure.
My stated purpose was a complete success, for the time we spent together I had unlimited kinky sex and very pleasant company and comforts.
The sour taste bit keeps coming back, as I was trying to impress upon these two guys, that I was “paying for sex”, no cash, no gash, and that is the bit that sticks in the blue pill craw.
And the pseudo red pill craw too, you should not be effectively supporting these skanks by paying them to continue to be skanks.
Which is the point at which I depart company from many self professed MGTOW types, while not claiming to be MGTOW, or indeed anything else except me, I do not see how I have betrayed myself or my principles here.
So, I paid for sex+, (because I got a lot more than just sex, so I call it sex+) informally, not formally as with a whore.
Fucking frog and scorpion guys.
Paying a scorpion to dress up as a frog so you can have freaky kinky monkey sex with it doesn’t turn that scorpion into a frog, it was dress up, pretend, make believe.
WTF is porn, or marriage, or career, but make believe?
So the SMS came in, at this stage that is all it is, your guess is as good as mine as to whether I am going to spend any time with that skank in future.
Would I, given the opportunity? Hell yes…
In preference to the “closer to free” swinging NSA hookups? Hell yes…
Well, if you have 1,000 bucks in the bank and only so many meals you can eat in a day, would you choose between the 99c BK daily or the $5 Minute steak and blow job?
Very important point here, the INSTANT you stop talking discretionary spending and start eating in to bills and hobbies and garnishing future pay-checks to buy jewellery and gifts are cars and houses, it is an utterly different ball game.
Time is something we also spend, yeah, sure, I’d like it if the skank in question gave me all that she did out of pure love and the money ended up even, like a dog would like two dicks, but that wasn’t ever on offer.
I spent the money and the time, and the combination of the two was that I can look back on the time I did spend with that skank and grin, I had a fucking good time, and a good fucking time, and it was time and money well spent.
Of course, perception is a funny thing, I could take on board and internalise the whole paying for sex is wrong thing, or I could cut my cock off, or I could throw the baby out with the bathwater.
What is the ultimate goal here?
To live by a set of rules in the hope that following these will somehow make life better.
To do things (and fuck wimminz) in such a way that you can look back on them and grin and go YUP and should you be presented with the opportunity to take that ride again you go YUP. No regrets.
It is a profound question.
Let us say, right now, just for the purposes of example and argument, that the X bucks spent was 500, and the Y hours of cool company and creature comforts and kinky monkey sex was 250.
I could be sat here now with one of two outcomes;
- An extra $500 in the bank, but none of those memories of that kinky sex and creature comforts and good times.
- My current positive bank balance, and all those memories.
It’s back to that profound question about the ultimate goals here.
What matters is that FOR ME, I took the better of the two options.
Isn’t that what this should all be about, what is GENUINELY in my own personal long term best interests, looking back with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight.
Yahbut, they say, you clearly have a soft spot for this skank.
I have a soft spot for Milan, doesn’t mean I want to fucking live there for the rest of my fucking life.
Where did this idea come from that ANY and every positive (or even non negative) opinion or feeling about a thing that is overall pretty bad and fucked up is a betrayal and dangerous etc etc.
Yeah, AWALT, AWALT means All Wimminz Are Like That, it does not mean that you are not allowed to find beauty in the curve of a tit or the folds of a cunt or a cute ass bent over in front of you.
You know there is really no purpose in your so called freedom and enlightenment if you gain the courage to declare that AWALT; but lack or lose the courage to state that some aspects of the female form are fucking beautiful, and that you do not regret one second that you spent enjoying that.