I have notes dating back well over a decade, and there are a few I have not used for articles or any of my books out of respect of various women, albeit chances of them finding this material would have been slim to none. Still, eventually plenty of time passes, and, for instance, some young slut I met in 2008 or so is now a lot older and will have moved on to a different phase in her life or, more correctly, will have been moved on to a different phase. In this post, I talk about a diary I came across that was written by a woman in her early 20s, about 15 years ago.

Recently, I wrote about the difference between Chads and non-Chads, and Chad-exclusive experiences. Another example of those differences consists of Chads meeting women who travel abroad and who, at most, only pay for their flights. All other expenses they leech of guys, e.g. drinks in bars, entrance fees to clubs, and free stays in the beds of random dudes.

I once picked up a young, go-getting woman in her early 20s who referred to herself, humorously, as a “vagabond”. She openly told me that she spends the summer by taking one trip after another, boasting that she never has to pay for a hotel because she always finds a guy to stay with. (She told her parents that she stays with “friends”, which seemed to have raised no concerns at all.) Then she lives with them for a few days or even up to one or two weeks, but if the dude does not perform well or is a bit creepy, she looks for a new guy to stay with, in stereotypical monkey-branching behavior. The parasite moves on to a new host, so to speak.

The luggage of this young woman was surprisingly compact. She only had a backpack and a duffel bag with clothes. Granted, her skimpy summer outfits did not take a lot of space, and if there was an issue with wrinkles, she just used the iron of her temporary host. Most certainly, she realized that excess luggage made her less mobile and that she is better off if she is able to carry her luggage herself.

As this young slut was staying with me for a while, there was not a lot she could hide from me. Also, she spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom. At some point, I noticed a notebook sitting in her duffel bag, and made a note to skim through it at the next opportunity. Less than 24 hours later, she was about to embark on another hour-long session in the bathroom to shower, do her hair, and fix her makeup, I took the liberty of opening this notebook and what I found was a quite insightful look into the naive worldview of a young slut.

Her diary was essentially the female counterpart of Sleazy Stories. She simply recorded encounters with guys, primarily those she stayed with, and surely this was more of a collection of her more memorable encounters rather than a comprehensive one. Had it been the latter, she surely would have had to write a lot more. She also told me about her literary ambitions. In fact, she studied English Literature at university, in a non-English speaking country, and the most tangible outcome of this, besides this diary, was some crappy poetry on a blog, which she proudly showed me. Probably, she thought she would release her diary as a book sometime, and back then there were a few such books written by women that had a modicum of success. I am not sure how compelling a book whose main message was that a young, blonde slut can get a lot of dick would be, though.

A general theme was that everything always happened to her. She just so happened to be sucking off some dude in a bathroom stall, happened to do lines of cocaine with two guys in a hotel room, followed by getting fucked by both of them, and of course there were several stories about the guys she temporarily lived with. I had to suppress my laughter when she describes going on those trips with female friends of hers. Often, she summarized this as, “we arrived in city X together, but I only saw my friends again on the return flight”. This read as if there is no agency at all involved, and that they view themselves as leaves in the wind. Of course, this is complete nonsense. Imagine raising such a daughter!

The most naive aspect of this diary was that she seemed to have certain expectations of the guys who took a moderate interest in her. One story was about a Frenchman. In this somewhat more poetically written story, sex and the hookup were at best hinted at. She began with talking about her “cigarette after”, standing next to an open window in an apartment somewhere in Paris. Clearly, due to no fault of her own, she ended up in some dude’s apartment. It just so happened, bigot! The evening sun is shining on her, and as she is smoking her cigarette, she fantasizes about living with this guy in his small studio apartment, buying groceries at some market and cooking together. Oh, and she thought that it would be “romantic” to be able to tell others that she has a French boyfriend, and one living in Paris, no less. Outside of a few corners, Paris is a pretty ugly city, but acknowledging this fact would have undermined her delusions.

Speaking of that supposed French future boyfriend, there was a follow-up entry that did not express nearly as much yearning as the guy kicked her out after she had finished her cigarette. This slut lamented this by referring to her occasional challenge of finding out who the good guys are. There is a part missing afterwards, but I assume that she either found a new guy right after or slept in a hotel that night. Here, I also wondered if having to pay for a hotel is some kind of admission of defeat. I could easily imagine her boasting to her slut friends about how many nights she was able to stay in the apartments of various guys.

This woman was a very politically correct Scandinavian and as such, she seemingly gave men of every ethnicity a chance, probably with the exception of fellow Scandinavians. Yet, there were some rather troubling entries related to various ethnicities. I skimmed a story about a Turk who had lied to her and told her he was from South America (lol). This guy treated her like a free whore and kicked her out in the middle of the night, which she was pretty annoyed about.

The most amusing story was about a gentleman of the “muh dick” persuasion, the kind who has a high amount of melanin in his skin, and this was, according to her diary, also her first black guy. In an entry, “Tonight I Shall have Sex With a Black Man”, she was wondering how big the penises of black men really are and muses if it is true that, “once you go black you never go back” — and then she went out, looking for a black dude. The resulting encounter she describes in some detail, with the guy towering about her and speaking of himself in the third person. This made me laugh so hard that I frantically pulled up some YouTube videos on my laptop to have a cover story for when she had finished her bathroom routine. Indeed, she had heard me laugh and later asked me what was so funny. This guy went on taking pictures with his phone as he was mounting her, and she was not happy about this at all. Yet, she could not get this guy off her and had to see this encounter through to the end.

Mr. Muh Dick kept banging her and as he was doing so, he dropped remarkable one-liners such as, “white girl cannot handle black dick!” or, “you will come back wantin’ mo’ black dick” (I modified those lines slightly to more accurately represent the black vernacular). She seemed to struggle with this as her leftist upbringing had not prepared her well for such an experience. This black gentleman claimed to be a “manager from London” but was a bit evasive about his actual line of work. Yet, he offered this wannabe-mudshark to bring her with him to London and get her a job as a secretary. In her diary, she mocks the idea, and she also added that she will never, well, the word “never” was struck through and she continued by writing that she needed to be more careful around black men in the future, and that she should not think negatively about them based on just one bad experience.

Other diary entries were a bit less remarkable. Sometimes, she went for someone who looked stable, slept at their place, yet banged other guys behind their back. In one entry, she mocks a guy for his generosity of letting her stay at his place without getting anything in return. She was amused that he “never tried anything”, but also adds that she would have felt compelled to have sex with him. As this guy did not make a move, she had to get her needs filled — What a typo! I meant to write “needs met”, of course. — otherwise and went wild, having sex with seven guys in four days, including such romantic encounters as a DJ banging her in a storage room after his set and having sex with two different guys at the same hostel. This entry ended with her writing that she is sure that none of her friends has had sex with more men than her on this trip.

As surprising as it may seem to guys who are as cynical as us, true love turned out to be ever-elusive for this young woman. As her diary went on, mindless sexual escapades increase but there were still remarks about hoping for something to work out. Basically, she would have been happy to settle for any guy with his own place and a car who is also reasonably good-looking, and kept writing about how much she likes the idea of taking a plane to visit her boyfriend abroad. Apparently back then global warming was not that much of a concern for young ditzes.

Of course, this woman had a clear problem with processing reality. The mere thought that very few guys would be interested in a long-distance relationship with some random slut seemed to have escaped her. On the other hand, almost all the guys she met seemed to have seen right through her, used her for what she was good for, and moved on. Again, it is more precise to say that they moved her on. I could now quip that this woman was a true altruist, accepting lower happiness for herself so that more men could drain her balls in her, in turn increasing their own happiness. Yet, all this woman did was destroy her ability to pair-bond and, tragically, this is something she did not seem to understand because she only had a large number of short-term relationships.