Wimminz – celebrating skank ho's everywhere

June 23, 2012

Where have all the good men gone redux

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:41 pm

It is an age old truism that you have to LIKE the person you are with for it to have any kind of future at all.

It is of course hard / impossible to like a spoiled brat.

The upside of pornography is of course that you ONLY get the visual cues, you are protected from exposure to the sink full of dishes, the world owes me a living because I was born with a cunt attitude, and the harsh reality of the Police turning up after a fake DV accusation.

Which is just as well, because as soon as those aspects of reality intrude, the attractiveness of the wimminz in question disappears out the window.

Where have all the good men gone? Y’all shit on us so extensively and so completely that we have all learned the lesson, to treat wimminz with the contempt they deserve.

Which brings me back to PoF, and I am definitely seeing a change in attitude in the wimminz, both desperation and frustration are leeching into their profiles and attitudes so strongly that they cannot even fake it in an online dating profile.

Stamps feet. WHY hasn’t PoF brought me my niggerz in shining armour yet!!!

Of course, as more and more of the “real wimminz nature” seeps through, they get less and less fuckable, and as they get less and less fuckable, more and more of the real wimminz nature seeps through.

Which brings us right back to the beginning, you have to LIKE the wimminz you are with, to stay with her, which brings us to one of the old standby’s of men’s relations with wimminz, the sheer number of men who think to themselves that there is something wrong with them, because they seem to attract so many fucked up wimminz and so few decent ones.

The fact is, if there are mainly fucked up wimminz, or to be realistic ONLY fucked up wimminz whose fuckups you know about, and fucked up wimminz whose fuckups you do not yet know about, then the problem is not with you.

So, in the spirit of full disclosure, and this is not an exhaustive or complete list, here are some examples of the fucked up wimminz I have fucked, and the thing I discovered about them that made them impossible to like;

  • She had made commercial porn on VHS.
  • She was previously a hooker.
  • She fucked her biological father.
  • She fucked her biological brother.
  • She did not know who the biological father of her children was (If you eat a tin of beans, how do you know which one made you fart?)
  • She referred to the biological father of her children as The Sperm Donor.
  • She was quite happy to fuck in front of her children.
  • She was a lush, eg passing out drunk from a bottle of vodka.
  • She was always broke and poor mouthed, despite being on handouts that totalled more than my takehome.
  • She was seeing a shrink most of her life for her delusional and acting out behaviour.
  • She always had money for lottery tickets but was always short of money to feed the kids.
  • She had a dirty / messy house, always dishes in the sink, clothes on the bedroom floor, smalls on the bathroom floor.
  • She broadly hinted that I could fuck her pre-pubescent daughter (run the fuck away Will Robinson)
  • She would only “cook” fast and easy TV dinner / frozen meal stuff, because she was too busy / lazy.
  • She would immediately distance herself the instant I had a personal or family problem, or temporary shortage of spare cash.
  • She would always be telling me about how nasty her ex’s were to her.
  • She would act like she had the right to hit me, and I was not supposed to punch the bitch out in return.
  • She would cut herself with a knife.
  • She would lie, badly, like a 4 year old with chocolate cake all over his face denying they had eaten the chocolate cake, and get angry when I did not buy her bullshit.
  • She would have a secret stash of money, and then lie when I found it and used it to pay a bill (What’s his is ours (mine) and what is mine is my own, mentality)
  • She would tell you a long and incredibly detailed story about one of her family members or an ex or an employer, and then you would meet the person in question and get an UTTERLY different version of events, a different version that was then supported by several other individuals.
  • She would steal from someone else, a so called friend or employer, and then justify it to you because they had allegedly done her some wrong back in 1745 AD
  • She would seek conflict, and not resolution, in every instance.
  • She would lie both about the number of abortions she had, and her reasons for having them.
  • She would spy and pry, eg picking up your phone when you went for a piss and checking call records, or starting a fight when she tried to put your phone was locked.. nota bene the same level of disclosure was not forthcoming from her.
  • She would claim to be pregnant, or “accidentally” get pregnant.
  • She would make MY friends unwelcome or be rude to them.
  • She would lose her temper but it was always MY shit that accidentally got damaged.
  • She would steal from me, either regular small amounts or a whole “twenty” or I’d give her a twenty having nothing smaller and never get my 17 change.
  • She would claim that X thing that we had or did in common, was provided by HER efforts / work / money.
  • She would always cause trouble in any situation where she did not hold the upper hand, e.g. an apartment with the lease in my name only.
  • She would “accidentally” overuse something that *I* was financially liable for, e.g. phone bill and long distance calls.
  • She would fail to show common courtesy, e.g. “Thank you” when you functioned as dad’s taxi.
  • She would have a stale / unwashed / smelly cunt (often a sign of plenty of recent cock)
  • She would always be late.
  • She would interrogate me about where I had been / what I had been doing.
  • She would accuse me of doing shit I had not been doing, e.g. shagging someone else or talking to a wimminz etc.
  • She has ANY baggage from ANY previous relationshits.

and not forgetting

  • She made an FRA (false rape accusation) against me.
  • She committed perjury in Court against me.
  • She used our kids as weapons against me.

PS, do not assume that this list was one thing per wimminz… some had more than one thing, and I didn’t bug out early enough, e.g. after discovering the first thing.

Also, do not assume that ANY of these things are trivial, or something that “we both could have worked at an overcome”

If *I* have any impediment to a relationship, such as a gambling addiction, then it is down to ME to get that shit cured, it is not my future wife’s responsibility, not even if she drove me to it, because I should have got the fuck out instead.

Which brings me to my current main long term fuckbuddy, I quite like the bitch, I do not respect her, because she has done some crap stuff in the past long before I met her, but provided that shit stays in the past, I can respect that.

I don’t like her enough to get into a relationshit, because the laws of the land are so skewed in her favour I would be making myself a hostage to fortune, and I LIKE my life now and the shit I have.

There are things about her life that I do not like, but the relationshit we have is such that I am not exposed to those things.

She does not even mention, much less ask, what I do when I am not with her, she is all about making the time we do spend together pleasant for me, which may just mean she is smart enough to play the long term game against me, but I am more than ready for that one too… lol

So it isn’t where have all the good men gone, you cannot log in to PoF and see 400,000 people online and really claim that there are NO good men available in 200,000 guys who are online RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

It is where have all the good wimminz gone, and the answer is that the VERY few that there are are still married to their childhood sweetheart… and that allows their men to remain the good men they once were, and bitches, THOSE men ain’t available.

June 17, 2012

Cabbages and Kings

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:31 pm

One of the things that is essentially male is to pass on advice to our boys, and younger clan members.

Now, as a man in my fifties, I have known for more than ten years that there was one shitload of stuff that my dad knew, but did not tell me. Why not?

Because what counted was what he DID tell me, the stuff he didn’t tell me was stuff he knew I had to learn for myself, so the best thing he could do was tell me the stuff he did.

For example, he was smart enough to know that there are some lessons in life that simply cannot be taught, the individual has to experience them for himself, and all you can do is PREPARE them, and after all, they are not you, their world is not your world, and their responses may not be yours, so preparing them for as many eventualities as possible is the best possible thing you can do for them.

Further to yesterday’s post about how to spot a niggerz, and trends over at the spearhead with an ever increasing numbers of wimminz / niggerz agitators and ever increasing numbers of “useful idiots” that argue with everything because the alternative is to accept that some aspect of their life sucks, so rather than acknowledge that they shoot the messenger.

Now if I cast my mind back to times where my dad could have warned me, I recall that in actual fact he just looked at me, and with the benefit of hindsight and being a father myself, he was doing that age old calculation, what can I tell this boy, if anything, that will prepare him better for the situation he now faces?

And a lot of the time he said fuck all, because he had done what he could, and some of the time he asked me what I wanted to do, go down road A or road B, and offered help either way.

In hindsight, I always made the better choice, nota bene, no such thing as right and wrong choices, just better and worse choices, and again with the benefit of hindsight, the better choice is always one that maximises your future options, and the worse choice is the one that limits your future options.

Getting your face and hands tattooed, robbing a bank at gunpoint, throwing away what you have to set up house with a slut, these are all worse choices, because once you make any of them your future choices are always drastically limited.

Those three example choices never actually go away, I could do any of them next week, which is another thing about better vs worse choices, AT THE TIME, worse choices always seem like once in a lifetime deals, grab it now or forever lose it, and better choices always seem like meh, I can do that shit next week if I feel like it, whereas the reality is the exact opposite, because the worse choice collapses the future option tree and suddenly the better choices are no longer available, and this collapsing of the option tree is EXACTLY what differentiates between a better and a worse choice.

At this point I must stress that simply not making a choice, in the interests of keeping that future option tree as wide and diverse as possible, is in fact making a choice, the choice of choosing not to make a choice, and therefore choosing to open a third path, the path of the cypher who has no choices and is influenced by others, and there is always enough of that shit in life for anyone.

Let us take “game” for an example.

I am not a proponent of game, and if you think I am you have not read this blog sufficiently, but neither am I a detractor, it is what it is, and like all things it has good and bad, and like all things it offers lessons, good and bad, to those willing to watch and learn.

However now over at the spearhead there is an ever increasing number of posters who are defiantly anti-game, and openly ridiculing anyone who buys into it, and an increasing number of posters who are pro-game, and openly ridiculing anyone who rejects it.

And they are BOTH wrong, because the real choice is not pro-game vs anti-game, the real choice is between pro/anti game rulebooks, and no rulebook and making each individual play / choice as it arises.

It is human nature, it is lazy / easier to go by a given book of rules than it is to examine each choice and play your cards, it is also easier to swallow when things go wrong, because the choice was not made by you, but by the book you follow.

Go over to ZeroHedge and see everyone who took liar loans blaming the nasty evil bankers for pushing those loans on to them.

___I__ do not have a liar loan motherfucker, I refused to take them, and I also forfeit the House as an ATM and second and third re-mortgage and interest only mortgage (what fucking idiot would sign up to a loan where you NEVER repay the capital????) but then I chose to forgo the SUV in the driveway and two foreign holidays a year and all the other shit you spent your credit on.

Yes, it is a TOUGH choice to go without, to only have what you can buy for cash, to live within your means, to be driving an old car while you smirk at me with your flash new motor and foreign holidays and hello ladies let me buy you some champagne.

It is a TOUGH choice to refuse to sign up for infinite credit and to effectively spend the next ten years living in the lap of luxury, WHILE CONSUMING YOUR ENTIRE LIFETIMES’ WORTH OF PRODUCTIVITY AND VALUE IN ONE SHORT ORGY OF CONSUMPTION AND EXCESS,  but it is a fuckton EASIER than being where you fuckers are now, having consumed everything on offer and used up your lifetimes worth of productivity, and then getting presented with the fucking bill, and facing the rest of your life in austerity to pay it off.

Their future options trees have one branch, with one teensy tiny microscopic twig coming off it, in the shape of a lottery win as an exit strategy alternative to paying the piper.

I may be in a mere flat, but I have my workshop out back, nobody can repo any of my shit or vehicles, I am sat directly in front of my paid for giant screen TV, in the exact ideal viewing position, with my paid for quality speakers on quality stands again with the ideal stereo image focusing on the exact spot where I am sitting, the small table by my side is in the ideal and comfortable place for me, and while my income is low, I can live within my means, and have as much free time to do my own shit as I please.

If times get harder economically, I can cut back my already meagre living expenses by as much as 50% without any great genuine hardship, it will be austere and it will be putting on extra layers of clothing instead of the central heating, but I HAVE THAT OPTION.

I might not LIKE that motherfucking option of wearing pullovers and walking to get around town, but I HAVE that motherfucking option. My option tree is quite diverse.

Option trees start inside your head, with your fucking attitude to life, and this is the stuff my dad DID teach me, and so the things he might have said or taught me but did not do not matter, because after all like all human beings, we had limited time together on this earth, and neither of us knew how much time we would have together, so he taught me to have options, rather than teaching me a rule book and a list of his experiences and choices and specific things that he could warn me about.

With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, there were times when he considered as an option simply washing his hands of me, as doing otherwise would have limited his options arbitrarily.

If you think he was being harsh, he was not, he would have done anything for me, except to support and enable me to be a complete fuckup, get my face tattooed, rob a bank, throw away my life to play house with a slut, those things I could do on my own two feet, without limiting his options.

And that was perhaps the greatest lesson he taught me about options, the difference between being a father and being an owner of your children.

Why didn’t you protect me from some of the bad choices I made dad?” is a question I never asked him, but could posit as a theoretical one now.

And though he is long gone, I can hear his answer, “Protect YOU from choices YOU made boy???” and he would just look at me, and say “I TRIED to teach you son, don’t blame me if you chose not to listen and thought you knew everything and were a man enough to run your own life.

and the unspoken rest, he could have sacrificed his life to try to save me, and I would not have been saved because I was still running my own show, and then he would have given up all his options trees too, and then we would both have been fucked, and my memory of him, WHICH STILL GUIDES ME TODAY, would be a lesson in how to limit your options and fuck up and wail that it ain’t my fault, I had no choice, I was talked into shit, people PROMISED me shit, I didn’t REALISE it would end like this, I didn’t THINK IT THROUGH, and I don’t wanna be PUNISHED for it.

As the economy and democracy unravels in the western world, and the options trees of millions of people collapse into single branches with few offshoots, or in the case of war to the end of the branch completely and personal annihilation, I raise a glass to my dear departed dad, “I can’t live your life for you boy.

No, but he did the best job he could, under the circumstances of HIS life, to prepare me for MINE.

And with THAT realisation I sleep far easier having walked away from my own kids, when the only option the State and my psycho skank ho ex were prepared to offer was for me to destroy myself and my option tree and present myself as sub-human low life pond scum to have any kind of contact at all with my boys.

Under those “only offer on the table” circumstances the only things I would be teaching my boys is how NOT to prepare for their lives, as it is, I am an enigma to them, sure, mummy says their daddy is an antichrist who would have raped them and then eaten their bodies, but mummy says a lot of shit and none of it is true, nobody who lives in her house can be under any doubt about that, whereas daddy, well, who knows what daddy is, and as / when / if they eventually get to know him, he will still have an option tree open, to do the best job he can, under the circumstances of MY life to prepare them for THEIRS.

May 5, 2012


If you have left *any* food out, say some grains of sugar from making hot drinks, the odd breadcrumb tucked away in the corner, and an ant finds it, he will make his way back to the nest leaving a chemical trail.

The more ants follow and reinforce that chemical trail, the stronger it gets and the more ants follow it, it isn’t a conscious thing, it is a very very simple robot following very simple yes/no rules.

Which is why it is hilarious to watch a grown man swearing at ants that have invaded his kitchen and swearing at them as though their invasion was a conscious and deliberate act that was set against his karma.

I told him, you now have to pick up EVERYTHING, kettle, soap dishes, microwave, every last thing, off every flat surface in the kitchen, and every flat surface, edge, nook and cranny needs to be blitzed with soap and water and then with some sort of chemical mask, which can be a citrus based cleanser or an ant / crawling insect killer if it is not a food preparation surface, as this is the ONLY way, you have to eliminate every single ant / messenger there now, to prevent any new chemical trails being laid, and you have to totally eradicate all traces of every chemical trail that is there now, and since you cannot sense them, that means surgically cleaning every fucking thing.

There is no other way to win.

I have talked before about how it is easy to see large numbers of very simple and very dumb actors obeying some very simple rules, and think that surely the overall effects and outcomes MUST be the result of some sort of directed and possibly enemy action… the ants are INVADING your kitchen, so there must be an invasion plan, a general, right….

No, no more than MRSA or the common cold has a plan.

The flipside of this is that my friend’s extermination campaign was not seen as genocide by the any colony, it didn’t even register.

The ants were not taught a lesson by being eradicated, they will always keep questing at the borders of the accessible and cleanable bits of his kitchen, and the very next time they find some breadcrumbs and sugar they will be back in force overnight.

Not because they are an enemy who never ceases to attack and probe, but because they are a simple rule based system that exists to probe for exploits.

So, if you can’t teach them a lesson, all you can do is live a life of eternal vigilance, always keep your kitchen clean, if you make a mess or spill anything, always clean it up, and since ants will go for such minute amounts of stuff in the most remote corners, this means in practice wiping down and cleaning the kitchen every day and after every single use, even a light use like making a hot drink.

Being a good mate, I helped my mate to blitz his kitchen, and 15 minutes later we were done and sitting down with a coffee, and that is when he said something.

Fucking ants remind me of my ex…..”   mmmm? I grunted “… bitch never misses an opportunity to cause problems with the kids, nothing is too trivial to make  a big issue out of and go whining back to the courts or police that I have been doing something I shouldn’t or not doing something I should have.

Well..” I said “… the answer is looking you in the face mate… blitz the place and eradicate her and whatever tools she uses, eg the kids, from your life totally, and remain vigilant

He went all quiet and I was wondering if I had gone too far with the red pill for this guy, but some seconds later he looks up and says “it will never end will it, not if she is left to her choices, I will still be here in 2025 taking it up the ass from the bitch.

Nothing needed to be said at a red pill moment, so I just looked at him.

Like the ants, that shit NEVER gets old for the wimminz, it is hard-wired into them, and to be sure it had a place in survival terms back in the cave.

The Dutch have a lot of interesting words, one of them when spoken sounds like “millinuker” and if translated it means “ant fucker” but it actually means someone who will fuck around and obsess with even the tiniest details.

A bit like an ex wife who knows the man has to drive 45 miles through traffic to drop off and collect the kids every 4th weekend, but still expects him to pull up outside her door at precisely 18:00 hours on a Friday, no earlier and no later, and again at 17:00 hours on a Sunday, no earlier and no later… no arriving 15 minutes early and waiting in your car outside, go wait somewhere else asshole.

Then even if you are on time, to the second, there is still room to be had for an argument in parking on the wrong side of the road, or with the car facing the wrong way to the street door has to be opened and not the pavement door, or some fucking thing.

So, I could see my friend was wavering, and that quite soon that habit of doing the right thin and loving his kids and being there for them  and being a dad and being a real man would win out…..

So I got all Zen on his ass.

“You know S****, come 2025 when your youngest is 16 and free to make his own choices, what do you want him to have seen?

  1. A man who has been on his knees and taken it up the ass from mummy every 4th week for 13 years.
  2. A cipher, an enigma, an unknown.”

It’s the whole zen thing about removing the obstacle that the opponent is fighting against.

Like I told him, I have seen many kids that knew nothing about their dad except mum’s badmouthing (which may or may not have been justified) literally go half way around the world to find their biological father.

Never seen a kid who saw daddy one weekend in four grow up to give a fuck about them or see them as anything except mummy’s bitch.


February 19, 2012

it’s a funny old world…

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 12:03 pm

I was reminded this week of the importance of always treating your skank ho’s with the contempt they deserve.

One of the longer running skank’s who was only longer running in the first place because she was amenable to me dropping by, getting a blow-job, and leaving, is now on her way out… I have mentioned this skanky piece of meat before, she has a surprisingly good body and is a surprisingly good suck/fuck, but get too close and her personal life is a fucking disaster area.

The danger here of course is because the slut provided on demand good sex and nothing else, you start to think it is a bit of a good thing…

…which means that when she pulls the inevitable (AWALT) shit test on you, you may do something other than mutter “fuckit” and walk away and cross her off the list.

Fact is with 20/20 hindsight this particular skank slipped a couple of teensy tiny shit tests (sorry, not available to suck your cock tonight) past my defences, which I put down to her genuinely chaotic lifestyle, shrugged, paid it no attention and carried on because after all it ain’t like she was the only cocksucker in town…

So when this poked up on my radar at a concious level the solution is simple, the bitch is history.

But it raises a really good point, and related to that point is the fact that if my dad had told me this shit when I was younger, I would not have listened, you have to learn shit for yourself, BUT, and here is the important bit, when those self learning life events come along, it makes a hell of a difference is the “reference materials” are lying around to hand and kinda familiar… so even when dad is no longer around, I can replay in my head what dad did and did not do, how he acted, how he talked, and come up with a damn good idea what he would say, were he still around, now that I am ready to listen.

___THIS___ by the way is what psycho skank ho mommies steal from their male children when they exclude the father from that child’s life, the kid grows up without a good model of “what would dad do/say?” in his head.

So, anyway, back to the plot, and the advice my dad would have given me, were he still around.

That advice would have been that the very first sorry, not available to suck you cock tonight, even though the cock sucking was free, even though I lost nothing, even though I had other options, was a game over event.

A game over event, because pleasing me was not her top priority, and when pleasing you is not a wimminz top priority, they cease to have any purpose or function in your life…. I got better things to do with my life than come second best in the eyes of some skank ho who can’t even keep her sink clear of dishes….

Thing is, any salesman will tell you, when you lose a regular customer your “sales gaydar” goes into overdrive, and you pick up on an new sales outlet / opportunity, and you do that because you are acting and thinking in ways that you would not be, if you were living off the fat and getting your cock sucked on demand.

And so it goes, not back on PoF because you never left, but back with that extra smidgen of hunter’s relish, and because there are always Plenty of Fish in the sea, you soon replace the not available tonight skank ho with a better one.

And THAT, my friends, is the real point, you are in effect always trading up.

Even if the new skank ho isn’t empirically better than the just shit-canned skank ho, the fact that she is new, that she has not succumbed to the inevitable “familiarity breeds contempt” scene that all wimminz get, means she is a trade up from the one who got to that stage… “New Game” syndrome.

The other point that needs stressing here is no man is an island, it simply isn’t possible to have dealings with wimminz without it having some sort of feedback effect into your life… y’all KNOW this shit, this is the mechanism that traps you in a relationshit for years of misery…

It’s a lot easier to stop that wedge before the fucking thin end ever gets near you, and boy, sorry, not available to suck your cock tonight is the thin end of the wedge, it is the point at which the wimminz familiarity with you has started to breed contempt for you.

The lesson you YOU need to learn here is that being wimminz, this is NOT a fucking lesson they are CAPABLE of fucking learning, AWALT, remember, it is hard-wired into the bitches at DNA level.

As soon as it manifests itself ALL YOUR OTHER OPTIONS VANISH, you have a stark, binary, choice between allowing that thin end of the wedge into your life, and back to mangina niggerz land it is for you, or fucking it off entirely out of your life. Nothing in between.

The lessons my daddy would have taught me is I have to learn these lessons myself, as do you, but you need some shit like this article to be lying around within reach and conciousness when your moment of learning that particular lesson cometh, otherwise you end up feeling pain and hurt and confusion and all that good shit that is often branded as the price of “love” or some such shit.

This shit is a MAP, to help you navigate your way out of the trees that have become a wood while you were not looking or paying attention.

Sites / blogs like this are just a way of paying it forwards, I am legally excluded from directly being able to leave this shit lying around in my male kids consciousness, but paying it forwards is a way around the feminazi culture we live in today.

I have LEARNED enough that I take one look at a pic of a wimminz, click, my brain instantly picks out the clues, dark dark nail varnish, check next to the “submissive slut” check-box, and so on, I don’t even really consciously know I am making these judgement calls half the time, only afterwards do I realise, and I am right so much more often than I am wrong with each little check-box, and the overall picture I am so close it is uncanny, yes, AWALT, but there are variations, and it is within these variations that we must live our lives, ply our trades, and graze.

Just this week I had a PoF wimminz tell me that she was aware of the fact that I was exactly the kind of guy she liked being around, I made her laugh and feel alive, I was exactly the sort of company she wanted, but she really did not want to fuck me, because she knows I am all about the fucking and once I fuck her it is game over, and I had to remind her, I only agree to hang out with her on condition she introduced me to her slutty skank ho friends… I tell them all wimminz only want fried snow, and no man should ever pay any attention to a wimminz say what she wants, because wimminz do not know what is best for them… worst thing a man can ever do is listen to what a wimminz tells him she wants / likes / needs, and they fucking laugh, and another one of the skank ho’s is sacrificed to be impaled on my cock… win/win

See, the thing is, you just cannot ***know*** this shit at the age of 20.

God I wish I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, and all that good stuff, but not possible, not because time travel is impossible, but because it just takes X number of years of living in feminazi land to learn this shit down pat.

But you can get a “map” at 20, a “crib sheet”, a “walkthrough”, a “for dummies”.

Follow it to the letter, come back later and wonder about how and why that shit works.

Wimminz, cos God needed something to make cats looks dependable.

December 7, 2011

My children come first… and other fucking lies

Filed under: Wimminz — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — wimminz @ 9:56 pm

…but the “my kids come first” is one of the biggest and most mind-fucking-est lies that wimminz tell on dating sites.

This lie comes in many forms, “my kids are my world” and “my kids come first” and “my kids are everything” yadda yadda yadda.

Put at its most basic form, any variation of this lie, tells you three essential things about the wimminz in question;

  1. You are going to come LAST in any fucking relationship with this bitch, after her, and after her kids, fuck you very much.
  2. If her kids really were her world, in the way a man means it, the bitch would still be with their daddy, making the relationship work for their sake, so when SHE says they are her world she means it like AMEX, DINERS CLUB and CHEQUEBOOK, they are her own personal money pit, git orf my land…..
  3. If her kids really were her world, in the way a man means it, you wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her fucking house or children, ever, certainly not for the first year or three…

Lots of guys don’t get this, lots of them like Bill at the Spearhead do not want to get it, because frankly that way lies madness, unless you just shrug and walk the fuck away from your kids lives.

All the skank ho’s I fuck on PoF who have kids, these are other men’s kids, kids often loved by their fathers, always paid for by other men and often their fathers, and usually kept away from their fathers, who have injunctions and restraining orders and false allegations against them.

Let me tell you the truth about these “my kids come first” wimminz….

  • Kids have a notional “bedtime”, with single mommies this is whenever the kid wants, and actually means kid retiring to its bedroom to go online etc, the kid ain’t asleep or deaf, mommy is quite happy to get shit faced and fuck like a slut in the main room of the house though, no pretense of being quiet.
  • In many cases I have discovered that the laptop mommy used to send me pictures of her cunt, and to promise me sexual submission and filth and depravity, is being used by one of the kids, with the same default windows account.
  • Fuck the skank ho well, and little Jimmy and little Susie are told in no uncertain terms to make themselves scarce (go to their rooms and stay there) and not to hassle mummy’s new friend, what this actually means is kids, do not do anything that stops mummy’s new man from paying attention to mummy, specifically, mummy’s sexual desires.
  • Wimminz are quite happy to fuck in front of their kids, the least and most implausible and intangible “thing” can be used by wimminz to create a situation that is not, in their eyes, “in front of the kids”, and this thing can be as simple as a corner in a room blocking direct eyesight, perhaps a net curtain, perhaps a thin stud and plaster wall, perhaps just a TV to distract the kid and keep it, in theory, looking elsewhere…
  • All that protects YOUR kids from further abuse is not the skank ho mummy, it is the guy like me fucking her, who draws a line in the sand between what he can prove he did not do with archived SMS etc and everything else that is on offer.
  • Take a look at that pic up there, she has turned her head and seen the kid, but her hand is still spreading her cunt for the camera, because as far as she is concerned from where the kid is, the kid cannot see the cunt, see my point above about “not in front of“… this is what wimminz mean by “not in front ofyour kids….
  • Note well, I am not going ANYWHERE near the dangerous and scary wimminz, the alcohol abusers, the drug abusers, the mental ones, the ones who are a LOT MORE FUCKING COMMON THAN YOU WANT TO BELIEVE.

Without exception, I have found the “my kids come first” wimminz to be the very worst mothers you could imagine, and the very last sort of person any father would want their children left in the effective sole control of…. sadly, for the likes of Bill over at the Spearhead (and no, I haven’t posted this shit there, some head’s ups you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, so I chose don’t) the high conflict type wimminz who manufacture divisions and distance between fathers and their children, are the very sort of wimminz most likely to have a “my kids come first” profile on a dating website.

What you will never see, but should, is a wimminz advertising that she will put, if not her new man himself first, certainly the relationship with him first, and without a couple there is no family and the kids suffer, so in actual fact what is best for wimminz and kids is wimminz putting men first in their relationships…. you know, the mirror image of men always putting wimminz and kidz first in any relationship, and see where that got them….. fucked and evicted from their own lives.

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