A common observation that has become a cliche is that wives and girlfriends do not like that their men play video games. This starts early in the dating process. Some women even state on their online dating profiles that they “don’t date gamers” or even that they “hate video games”. Quite frankly, women are pretty fine with you playing video games as long as you meet a few criteria.
It is not a cliche that you can be a broke loser, yet bang a lot of women. That’s basically the theme of my Sleazy Stories books. Sure, if you are 6’3″ with a pretty decent body and a nice, big cock, plenty of women will be fine with just that. However, as soon as they fantasize about turning you into their boyfriend, they try to mold and shape you. Suddenly, it is no longer fine that you while away your days, being (mostly) content with your circumstances. Suddenly, you’re “wasting your time” or “squandering your potential”. Well over half of the women I banged more than a few times tried to turn my life around. Back then, I thought I’ll kill myself by my mid-30s or so, and those few remaining years I may as well enjoy. My problem was that I just didn’t think that life has a lot to offer (I still think that; in fact, if you don’t want to have kids, your only options are hedonism or hedonism masquerading as altruism).
I did not discuss my life plans, or lack thereof, with those women. Still, some probed. A few probed quite intensely. For instance, one, upon learning that I have a degree from an elite university (yup, a name you have heard of; they also gave me a scholarship), was baffled. I could see the wheels spinning in her head. After a period of silence, she asked me if I’m rich and if that is the reason why I don’t bother to look for work. No, I am not rich, but if money doesn’t really motivate you, simply because your parents are enabling you by wiring you a large-enough allowance every month, you probably develop the mindset of a frugal millionaire, if that makes sense.
Those women could not just let me enjoy my life, partying it up, and dealing with the occasional bouts of self-doubt. Instead, they wanted to turn me into a workhorse. “Here, I printed out a few job ads for you as I don’t have your email address,” one woman announced as she handed me a pile of sheets of papers. At that point, we had only spent one night together and shared breakfast. After learning more about me, she thought that this guy must be a diamond in the rough, so she must have spent a few hours online, “trying to help.” That was not what I wanted, though.
The previous example was the most egregious one, but other women reacted somewhat similarly. One woman who was only visiting Berlin and ended up getting picked up by me told me I could move in with her, in her small town; she’d help me sort out my life. That gave me the chills. Her offer is not as crazy as it sounds. I have had women I viewed as mere one-night stands ask if I wanted to have a key to their apartment.
If you are deemed eminently fuckable by women but you don’t have the professional status they would like you to have, because they want their men to be able to finance their life as well as a couple of children, you are a project for them. They want you to become a productive member of society, if only to enable them to withdraw from the workforce. You can’t really blame them. After all, there are not so many tall guys around. Of course, to them it seems a lot easier to turn a tall, broke loser into a tall dude with a decent job than to turn a guy with short to average height with a good job into a tall guy with a good job. This is obvious.
I once came across a study that claimed that the brain of many men does not fully mature until they hit their mid-thirties. Apparently, long-term thinking gets more important as you get older. I would not call this “maturing”; as
What I learned when I briefly played the field again, after my first marriage disintegrated, was that women no longer seemed to be interested in reforming me. They still tried sizing me up, though. Yet, upon learning that I have my life in order, the offers came in hard and fast. There was this one young woman I banged on a business trip in my hotel on a weekday evening. She did not even know my full name nor where I live, but she asked me if she could be my girlfriend. (She could not.) This visibly soured her mood. As I later learned, due to Facebook, she already had a boyfriend but was apparently willing to trade up. This was the most extreme case, but similar stories played out many times over. I think three or four girls either asked if I had a girlfriend or in any other way hinted that they’d love to pair up on either the first or second time we had met for sex.
Compared to my twenties, my physique is no longer quite up there, but I’m still in quite a decent shape overall. Yet, dancing half-naked in a club in my current shape would be a bit odd. My six-pack is gone; I have a bit more body fat overall, but I also look a bit bigger compared to my physical prime. Considering that I had little difficulty picking up women even at that age, I’d say that I still clearly made the cut even for one-night stands. Yet, the fact that I then had my life together made women want to join that ride as opposed to trying to fix my life. If you are a Chad who can provide, they don’t care that you like playing video games. Yet, if you can’t provide as much for them as they would like you to, they want you to stop wasting your time and getting your life together.
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