IS ANY GIRL EVER HAPPY???

believe me dude, most of us know exactly how you feel. yes, women are fucked up in the head, you just can´t run from that. yes, they have unrealistic expectations and yes, they will only stick around while you do cool stuff for them, but you know what? sooner or later, you know, when their body begins to drift or the next asshole dating her realises she's a nut case and dumps her, their "i want to be happy" crap gets flushed down the toilet. u just wait... you will feel like you are having an oral induced orgasm when a mutual friend comes and tells you the lattest on her "i want to be a princess" fantasie.. believe me you'll laugh your ass off the chair.. And by the way, dont worry if you can't live up to a women expectations, no one can..

you know, your last few lines made me think for a while:

"Women play games. They play them way better then men know how. And they are scandalous. They plot and hide until they find something "better." They are always looking for the next good thing."

i've been a member of relationshit for about 2yrs and one of the most important things i've read here is "women can, and most likelly will, fall in love with anyone".. i think that what you've sayd is one of the decoded messages behind that line.

Anyway dude, dont bether, ppl are just not worth the effort.

Just my 0.02.
A-Pock

Unfortunately, as you pointed out, we are living in an stupid age where an all-influencing media is stupifying men and women of all ages in all areas, but probably most devastatingly to our common happiness is the effect it's had on relationships. For women, the "Sex-in-the-city" lifestyle of revolving-door relationships, expensive tastes and you-go-gurrlll selfishness has been immortalised into their group-think. This generation's mainstream is basically lost.

Although you'd have to be pretty damn lucky and also pretty damn perceptive to find a "soulmate" in this particular time, one consolation is that, due to the same moral-eroding media, casual sex is readily available. I say, forget the endless crap and go strictly with the hookers, far less bullshit, far more honest, probably far cheaper and possibly more intimate. I've stared at as many real-life examples of long-term "marriages" as I could stand until my eyes bled and my brain detonated... I'd rather give birth through my penis.

One cheery thing that comes to mind when I think of the stooopid media is that it's basically self-limiting. Chicks who follow the I-wanna-stay-free-for-me lifestyle have less (if any) kids, and usually very late in life. They're definetly below replacement level so hopefully one glorious day they'll just all be extinct and the folks who for whatever reason aren't stupified by the media can multiply in peace. We can always hope.

"The United States is the wealthiest nation in the history of the world, yet its inhabitants are strikingly unhappy. Accordingly, we present to the rest of mankind, on a planet rife with suffering and tragedy, the spectacle of a clown civilization. Sustained on a clown diet rich in sugar and fat, we have developed a clown physiognomy. We dress like clowns. We move about a landscape filled with cartoon buildings in clown-mobiles, absorbed in clownish activities. We fill our idle hours enjoying the canned antics of professional clowns. We perceive God to be an elderly comedian. Death, when we acknowledge it, is just another pratfall on the boob tube. Bang! You're dead!"

-- James Howard Kunstler, Home from Nowhere

"I say, forget the endless crap and go strictly with the hookers, far less bullshit, far more honest, probably far cheaper and possibly more intimate."

loved your line man, grats :).. i actually often think about this. "on monetary terms how diferent can a steady gf be from a hooker?"

lets see:

steady woman: meals, gifts, mind-dwelling bull shit, sex once a week (if you're lucky...), you have to put up with her familly, her manipulation, she gets fat by the minute, no anal sex, bad oral sex, she tells all her friends about your flaws, short hair, unshaved legs, no sexy clothing to please you.
On short lets say about 200 dollars a week to get what i stated above. so, sex 4 times a month=800bucks plus having to put up with her shit.

hooker: 100 bucks, no bull shit, oral,anal,vaginal, never have to see her again, sexy clothing, she tells you what she wants in about a one min conversation, possible std infection (easilly solved by using condom), YOU CAN CHOOSE BETWEEN A HOT HOOKER OR A EVEN HOTER HOOKER.
So, 100*4=400 bucks a month for the same amount of sex with all the extras i stated above...

Though i never used a hooker's service after this small comparisson im starting to think that maybe it's not such a bad idea...

This is a great piece of reading if you are considering the prostitutes/gf debate (The actual writer is a bit of a nut, but he raises some interesting points):

"I remember the first time I had sex - I still have the receipt. The girl was alive, as far as I could tell, she was warm and she was better than nothing. She cost me £20.
I was 16 then and I'm 41 now. I have spent 25 years throwing my money and heart at tarts. I have slept with every nationality in every position in every country. From high-class call girls at £1,000 a pop to the meat-rack girls of Soho at £15, I have probably slept with more than 1,000 prostitutes, at a cost of £100,000.

I am a connoisseur of prostitution: I can take its bouquet, taste it, roll it around my mouth, give you the vintage. I have used brothels, saunas, private homes from the internet and ordered girls to my flat prompt as pizza. While we are on the subject, I have also run a brothel. And I have been a male escort. I wish I was more ashamed. But I'm not. I love prostitutes and everything about them. And I care about them so much I don't want them to be made legal.

In English brothels you shuffle into a seedy room so dim you can only meet the girl by Braille. But in New York last year I sat on a four-poster bed while 10 girls paraded in front of me one by one, like bowls of sushi on a carousel. 'Hi,' they would say, 'I'm Tiffany', 'I'm Harmony', 'I'm Michelle', and I would rise and kiss them. It was so touching, so sweet, so kind. There should always, no matter what, be politeness. It is the way the outside world should work, selfishly but honestly.

The great thing about sex with whores is the excitement and variety. If you say you're enjoying sex with the same person after a couple of years you're either a liar or on something. Of all the sexual perversions, monogamy is the most unnatural. Most of our affairs run the usual course. Fever. Boredom. Trapped. This explains much of the friction in our lives - love being the delusion that one woman differs from another. But with brothels there is always the exhilaration of not knowing what you're going to get.

The problem with normal sex is that it leads to kissing and pretty soon you've got to talk to them. Once you know someone well the last thing you want to do is screw them. I like to give, never to receive; to have the power of the host, not the obligation of the guest. I can stop writing this and within two minutes I can be chained, in the arms of a whore. I know I am going to score and I know they don't really want me. And within 10 minutes I am back writing. What I hate are meaningless and heartless one-night stands where you tell all sorts of lies to get into bed with a woman you don't care for.

The worst things in life are free. Value seems to need a price tag. How can we respect a woman who doesn't value herself? When I was young I used to think it wasn't who you wanted to have sex with that was important, but who you were comfortable with socially and spiritually. Now I know that's rubbish. It's who you want to have sex with that's important. In the past I have deceived the women I have been with. You lie to two people in your life; your partner and the police. Everyone else gets the truth.

Part of me used to enjoy the deception. There was something about the poverty of desire with one's girlfriend. Sex without betrayal I found meaningless. Without cruelty there was no banquet. Having a secret life is exhilarating. I also have problems with unpaid-for sex. I am repulsed by the animality of the body, by its dirt and decay. The horror for me is the fact that the sublime, the beautiful and the divine are inextricable from basic animal functions. For some reason money mitigates this. Because it is anonymous.

What I hate with women generally is the intimacy, the invasion of my innermost space, the slow strangulation of my art. The writer chained for life to the routine of a wage slave and the ritual of copulation. When I love somebody, I feel sort of trapped. Three years ago I was saved. I found a girl whom I could fall in love with ... and sleep with prostitutes with. She sends me to brothels to sleep with women for her. I buy her girls for her birthday and we go to whorehouses together. I am free forever from the damp, dark prison of eternal love.

A prostitute exists outside the establishment. She is either rejected by it or in opposition to it, or both. It takes courage to cross this line. She deserves our respect, not our punishment. And certainly not our pity or prayers.

Of course, the general feeling in this country is that the man is somehow exploiting the woman, but I don't believe this. In fact, the prostitute and the client, like the addict and the dealer, is the most successfully exploitative relationship of all. And the most pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no squalid power game. The man is not taking and the woman is not giving. The whore fuck is the purest fuck of all.

Why does a sleazy bastard like me like whores so much? Why pay for it? The problem is that the modern woman is a prostitute who doesn't deliver the goods. Teasers are never pleasers; they greedily accept presents to seal a contract and then break it. At least the whore pays the flesh that's haggled for. The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money usually costs a lot less.

But it is more than this. What I want is the sensation of sex without the boredom of its conveyance. Brothels make possible contacts of astounding physical intimacy without the intervention of personality. I love the artificial paradise; the anonymity; using money, the most impersonal instrument of intimacy to buy the most personal act of intimacy. Lust over love, sensation over security, and to fall into a woman's arms without falling into her hands.

Having an instinctive sympathy for those condemned by conventional society, I wanted to cross the line myself. To pay for sex is to strip away the veneer of artifice and civilisation and connect with the true animal nature of man. Some men proudly proclaim that they have never paid for it. Are they saying that money is more sacred than sex?

But one of the main reasons I enjoy prostitutes is because I enjoy breaking the law - another reason I don't want brothels made legal. There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it desirable. When I have dinner every evening in Soho I always think: isn't scampi delicious - what a pity it isn't illegal. I'm sure I am not alone in this. Even Adam himself did not want the apple for the apple's sake; he wanted it only because it was forbidden.

As for the girls, the argument is that making it legal will somehow make it safer, but Soho has one of the lowest crime rates in the country. Anyway, crime and risk are part of the texture of life. Indeed, Freud tells us: 'Life loses interest when the highest stake in the game of living, life itself, may not be risked.' Risk is what separates the good part of life from the tedium.

I decided to ask my Claudia, my favourite prostitute. I first spotted her in the street in Knightsbridge 10 years ago and was so taken by her haunted beauty that I decided to follow her. There was an air of great quality about Claudia. The faces of English girls look as if there is not enough materials to go round. They have thin lips and papery eyelids, box jawbones, prominent Adam's apples and withered hearts. Claudia looks Mediterranean - her lips are full and curly, her nostrils flared, her eyes black and as big as saucers.

She walked and I stalked all the way to Soho and down Brewer Street. No. No way. She couldn't be! She turned, and walked into a brothel. I couldn't believe it. I could fuck Raquel Welch for £25.

When I ask if she wants prostitution legalised, she reacts violently: 'No way! I tried to take a regular job a few months ago. After tax and national insurance I was left with practically nothing. So I came back here. On a good day here I can take £500. I don't have a pimp, so after paying the overheads and the maid I've got more than enough.' There you are. Income tax has made more liars out of the British people than prostitution.

I know a little bit about the business side. Some years ago I became a madam and a male escort. I turned one of the rooms in my flat in Shepherd Market into a knocking shop and joined an escort agency. I went into prostitution looking for love, not money. That said, I always took cash. The women wanted company, someone willing to please at the midnight hour, and straight sex. It was nerve-wracking wondering if I was going to be able to get it up or get on, but at least I had a valid reason for liking my lovers - they paid me. I didn't care if someone called me a whore and a pimp.

So you see, I have always been a prostitute by sympathy. As for the rest of society, prostitution is the mirror of man, and man has never been in danger of becoming bogged down in beauty. So why don't we leave it alone? Or learn to love it, like me? Sex is one of the most wholesome, spiritual and natural things money can buy. And like all games, it becomes more interesting when played for money. And even more so when it is illegal.

Hookers and drunks instinctively understand that common sense is the enemy of romance. Will the bureaucrats and politicians please leave us some unreality. I know what you are thinking. That it's all very well for people like me to idealise whores and thieves; to think that the street is somehow noble and picturesque; I have never had to live there. But so what? One day I will. Until such time, I have to pay for it. How else would someone young, rich and handsome get sex in this city? Yes, yes, I know. Prostitution is obscene, debasing and disgraceful. The point is, so am I."

nice read man :D..

"The problem is that the modern woman is a prostitute who doesn't deliver the goods. Teasers are never pleasers; they greedily accept presents to seal a contract and then break it. At least the whore pays the flesh that's haggled for. The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money usually costs a lot less."

So true....

Women don't play games better than men. The just play differently. The best game men play is stupid. We are excellent at playing stupid, simply because that is our defense mechanism. As long as we play dumb, it will one, shut her up, two make her think she is smarter than you so down the road she can find out in her infinite smartness when her life crashes and burns that she is actually fucking stupid (that is how they seem to learn), and three, so she may have pity on you and give you some head so you will stop talking "stupid".

Silence is another game we play. If we talk too much, we give up too much information about ourselves, thus making us more vulnerable to becoming victims of their games. Likewise talking tends to invoke more talking. Good communication is essential to every working relationship, but you have to know how to communicate with a "crazy" person. Trying to communicate directly will only make you just as crazy. Hence men have learned to not be drawn into the "craziness" by not overly conversing. Communication does not involve you (the man) talking. It involves you listening and interpreting. You have to translate what she is saying into "reality". So the process for men is, listen, then de-code the message, then speak...ONLY IF NECESSARY! Most times a grunt and a nod in some positive or negative manner is all that is needed. To help you further understand this concept you have to pay attention to how women hear and think. First and foremost, they have translators in their brains like the ear piece of a UN ambassador. These translators encode everything that you say into exactly what they want (or don't want) to hear. It has absolutely nothing to do with what you are actually telling them. Men tend to speak directly, what we say is what we mean. Let’s call this language "reality". Women take what you say and translate it into the language the understand, lets call it "crazy". For instance if you say something like, "We should join a gym", she did not hear what you said. She did not hear you say "I think I want to join this gym so I can work out, and get in a little better shape, and keep my health up, and...so on...so on...all the positive reasons for joining a gym. What her translators told her was "HE THINKS I AM FAT". In this instance one of three things will happen, she will instantly lash out at you, catch you off guard and have you following behind her saying "what did I say?" (be scared), or she will begin to ask questions to probe what she thinks you are saying, (not what actually came out of you mouth), thus attempting to draw you into further conversation and eventually snaring you into saying something that validates what the translator in her mind told her "meant" (be very scared). The last approach she may take is the silent attitude(the attitude may not be immediately noticed). She will sit there and stew in her translated juices. She will grow increasingly upset or hurt. She will begin to show signs of serious displeasure, only to cause you to make the fatal mistake......"what's wrong with you?" (MORTAL KOMBAT FATALITY). She will not answer your question. She will tell you "nothing" is wrong, because, of course, you are supposed to know. Now she has you scouring over the course of the conversation looking for what when wrong, looking for the flaw, trying to figure out what you said wrong, then you think over the course of the day, then the week, the month, and pretty soon, you are as "crazy" as she is. She won. And when she finally figures out that she was just being stupid and that you really meant you just wanted to go to the gym, you are so crazy and enraged that your mind can't put together a comprehensible sentence (environ-mental meltdown). In a relationship, the men's part of communication means, pay attention to the road, be prepared for unstable, even hazardous road conditions. Men, with practice, can think "crazy" without becoming crazy. It is little more than mental karate - defense against the dark arts of "CRAAAZZZYYYY" (we must teach the youth). So one of our best defenses is SILENCE. It is truly Golden.

So in conclusion women play their games, and we play ours. Who ever wins depends on the ultimate objective and who's the better player. In healthy relationships, the objective is for everyone to win. (Understand-Negotiate-Compromise!)

very good read :)

okay, now youll probably never read this, but seriously, youre a fucking idiot, bro. along with everybody else who thinks the opposite sex are the source of all relationship problems. its amazing how incapable some people are of real independent thought. take a look at the posts on the other end of the site from girls who think the same way about guys. what goes on in your head, "they must be wrong and i must be right". grow the fuck up, pal. you know why your love life sucks and why you have such a despondent view on females? because you cant grow a pair of nads and focus on yourself for once. try to become more self-sufficient instead of being a sappy doormat prick.

Wow we're not all bad sounds like a wiked catch.

I think that us as men fall in love too easily. I say fight love and never ever allow yourself to even say or think you love someone until they prove to you that they are:

a) worthy of your love.
b) In love with you (dont ask me how to prove that ha! Sometimes faith goes a long way, or maybe she's the only gf you've ever had that didn't mace you for throwing cold water on her ass after getting out of a nice hot shower (:D).

But me personally I dont understand the "women's code thing" how do you notice that stuff and what is the whole "code". Saying one thing meaning another? what do they want you to say/do??

-< The Greatest Trick the Devil ever pulled was making us believe he doesn't exist. ->

"possible std infection (easilly solved by using condom)"
just a side note for y'all's own personal health (unless it's too late, in which case, sorry)

fact: one in five sexually active adults (presumably in the west?) has contracted HSV2, the strain of herpes responsible for causing GENITAL HERPES (www.cdc.org)
fact: HSV2 can lie dormant in your system for quite some time before a first outbreak
fact: a standard STD test does not test for herpes HSV 1 or 2
fact: herpes can be transmitted even when there is no sign of outbreak
fact: (this is the best one!) condoms do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to prevent the transmission of herpes from partner to partner

who woulda guessed, right?
i have nothing against prostitution. or casual sex. the more [consentual] sex in the world, the better! but keep it (very) clean or we're all gonna end up with fuckin herpes.

happy fucking..