Velvet, Mike & Woody, & The Case Of The Roont Wahmen.

Woody looks almost exactly like this dog.

I’m going to do a “Quentin Tarantino” on this one and start at the middle-end and then go back to the beginning.

“Velvet” and I had just got done having sex, when she looked up at me and said, “Do you remember when you told me that you were ‘Legion?‘”

“Yes.”

“I understand what it is that you do now.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You ruin women.”

I arched an eyebrow in mock surprise and said, “Ruin women? Whatever do you mean?” Of course I knew what she meant. The only real shock that I felt is that she was using a line from the Gay Monastery as if she was an actual member and was holding her card for inspection. Did she know what I do for shits and giggles? Did she know that this was something that I have dealt with on a regular basis when I hear guys whine that those “evil PUA’s are rooning the whamen!”

“You fuck so good that you’ll be remembered for a long time to come. I’m pretty sure that there are women from your past that to this day may be with another man, but they are thinking and fantasizing about you.”

Part of me was a little flattered, I’m not going to lie. Part of me was like, “Yeah, look at you stroking my ego. I’m memorable. For now. But then down the road you’ll most likely be with another dude, and I’ll be with another woman.” It was fascinating to me that she was describing things that I’m all-too familiar with because of the space that I occupy on the internet. The only difference was that she was describing things as normal people would without all the jargon and none of the sperg. That’s how I know she’s not running around, snooping on what I’m doing on the internet. Otherwise she would be throwing jargon around or asking me something like, “What’s ‘Redpilled?'”

Yep, I “ruin” women. LOL. I “Alfa Widow” them. Guilty as charged. Ya got me.

Will I be memorable to some women as time goes on and we have gone our separate ways? Probably. There’s a handful of women that “left a mark on me,” as the saying goes. I remember them. They show up in my vision from time to time. Maybe it was their laugh. Maybe it was the way they would toss their hair and play with it. Maybe they had strong head game. There’s a billion things that could make me think about a particular woman for no particular reason at all. Sometimes it’s a song that I hear. Sometimes it’s a certain smell.

But “I’m ruining women.” Hell of a flex. I’m not nearly so egotistical to think that I leave that much of an impact on any one particular woman, or a guy for that matter. I do my thing, you listen, watch, engage, or you don’t. I move on. I figure that you do too. I’m just a man, nothing more. While entertaining a woman with a story of “I am Legion, I am Many,” is dramatic and fun, it’s a story and nothing more. Do I buy my own bullshit on it? No, it’s just something melodramatic and fun and women like melodramatic and fun.

At the end of the day, she said it, it was nice, and I’m sure at that moment that she said it, she meant it. She’ll be saying it to another man down the road and she has probably said something similar to guys that were before me. So I noted it, took the ego boost for the moment, but then took it with a grain of salt.

So there’s the middle to the end of the story. Let’s go back to the beginning now….

“Velvet” and I were sitting on the balcony drinking a couple of beers and I was smoking a cigar. There’s a guy walking his little poodle down on the street below. He’s a “bikerish” looking dude. I’ve seen him around over the last few years, but I’m somewhat of a curmudgeon and I like to keep to myself and so the only thing I have done when he and I have crossed paths is either nod to him or wave at him. I didn’t even know his name. Until this night.

“Hey! Come on over here and have a beer with me!” He slurred/yelled at us.

I looked at “Velvet.” “Well? Want to?”

“Sure!”

And so we did. We got our asses off the bench on my balcony and went down and met “Mike” and Woody.

“Mike” is a character. I’m not sure how old he is. I’ve never been a great guesser when it comes to age, and I know that living certain lifestyles can either make you look younger or older. If I had to guess I would say that “Mike” is pushing 60. Thinning hair, lots of lines and wrinkles, but he’s also lived a hard life and he’s made a lot of bad choices throughout it. He’s definitely an alcoholic. I wouldn’t doubt that he’s addicted to other substances as well.

“I was born into the Hell’s Angels. My name is ‘Mike.'” That was how he introduced himself to Velvet and me when we walked across the street and shook his hand.

From there I got to see his tattoos because he took off his shirt and showed them to me. He mentioned that he had done time in prison when he was younger. Some of his tats were of the jailhouse variety and so at least that part of his story was true. I have seen enough jailhouse tats to know the difference.

He told us about Woody, the little Poodle That Could. Woody is 15. He’s an old man and if “Mike” wasn’t bullshitting me, Woody has seen some shit over the years.

“Mike” regaled us with tales about the time he was a bull rider in the rodeo and how he broke almost every bone in his body when he was 40. He talked about the times he got arrested for doing over 120 miles per hour on his Harley. He told us about the death of his mother. And Woody had seen all of this. And this was on a first meeting over a can of Budweiser. Wives and fiancée’s who overdosed. Fights he had been in at bars when he was white-knighting for the wahmen and he got his ass kicked or he ended up in jail for his troubles, or both, I heard it all in the course of about an hour or so.

“Mike” had diarrhea of the mouth and didn’t know when to shut up. It was sweet, it was sad, it was interesting.

Almost the entire time he was looking at “Velvet.” He was entertaining her. I was irrelevant. I just smirked the whole time and nodded and “mmmhmmmed” where it was appropriate. He was definitely attracted to her, and why not? She’s a good looking woman. It was also a little transparent and a little sad. Ultimately I had to tell “Mike” goodnight. It was getting late and I had to get up and go to work in the morning. That’s when “Velvet” and I said our goodbyes to him.

As we were walking back to my place, I said to her: “That’s the first time in all the years he and I have lived across the street from each other that he’s asked me to come over and have a beer with him. He did it because he saw you and he likes you. Tonight was the first night in all of that time that I learned his name and the name of his little dog. He wanted to meet you.”

What’s the point of that dialogue? Nothing really. Just what I observed.

The funny thing is, “Mike” saw me with my belly dancer get into my car the very next day as we were getting ready to go to dinner. The look on his face, the confusion, was priceless. I waved and pointed a finger at him as we drove by. I wonder if he saw my wink or not.

It’s Not Called “Hot August Nights” For Nothing

That’s what I’m talking about.

God, I hate social media sometimes, I really do.

The longer I’m on there, the more bullshit I see.

Guys are truly afraid of their own shadows, and the women, the women are tired. Tired of men not being men.

Tired of men not having the balls to go after what they want, unapologetically. Guys willing to put it all on the line. Guys doing “sneaky fucker game.”

The latest “challenge” issued by another dipshit on Twitter was along the lines of: “Don’t fuck, don’t drink, eat right, meditate.”

Fuck me running. What happened to fucking until you couldn’t fuck anymore? What happened to road beers and drinking almost to the point of blackout? What happened to eating the good food? What happened to testing your limits and seeing what would happen? What happened to possibly being rejected? What happened to living?

What happened to having some fucking fun for once in your fucking life?

I’m so tired of the puritanism that masquerades as “Masculinity.” This new “Masculinity” is set up to have you in chains. You see this, right? It’s either a woman calling the shots, saying what is “proper” or “good,” or it’s some Jesus freak telling you the same thing. All the “retain your semen/abstinence” shit is just a front for religion. Ask me how I know.

Do you really want to live in chains? Do you really want a life of slavery? It’s time for you to decide what works for you.

Asceticism might be your thing, except I know it’s not, not really. You really want to live an ascetic lifestyle? Okay, give up everything except the clothes on your back. Go be homeless and live on the concrete with nothing. That’s asceticism. Otherwise you’re LARPing.

Why self-deny? Why bother? Because some random asshole on the internet said so? Really?Who the hell is that guy? Who the hell is that woman? Nobody. That’s who. I mean, if you want to live a life of self-denial, fill your boots. You do you, bro. But I can’t imagine for one moment why I would want to do that.

I grew up with everyone around me telling me that I should deny myself…Everything. Sacrifice it all in the name of “Being a Man.” Sacrifice it all in the name of “The Greater Good.” Deny it all in the name of God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost. Do you know who got the short end of the stick? Me, that’s who.

Fuck it. I was done with all of that bullshit a while ago. “Sacrifice” my ass. Been there, done that. No thank you. I’ll do what I want and what I want is to pursue pleasure. So that’s what I’m doing. Do you know what? Life is pretty fucking good for me.

You can either live in chains or you can throw them off and do what you want. The choice is always yours.

All the women I have met in the last few years, all of the food I have eaten, all of the drinks I have drank, all of the experiences I have had, I regret nothing. Not all of the experiences have been positive, and still, I regret nothing.

Experience. That is what I choose. Pleasure. That is what I choose. Retaining bodily fluids? No thanks. Sitting around reading another book written by yet another asshole? No thanks. Watching another video on YouTube? No thanks.

I choose to live my life eyeballs deep in it. Go out and live. Try shit out and fuck it up. Seek pleasure. Take your own counsel. You know you the best compared to some fucking life coach. You only get one shot, fucking take it. Life ends sooner than you think.

It’s Not Sustainable.

I have seen several “PUA” guys over the last couple of years go from getting the “+1” to deciding it wasn’t sustainable and eventually moving on to “settling down” with one woman. “Mystery” from the “Mystery Method” comes to mind. But there are several others of less notable reputation that I follow that are doing the same.

Guys in their 30’s and early 40’s.

All I can think is, “What the fuck?”

I’m closer to 51 than I am 50 now, as of this writing. I have no intentions of “settling down” again. I already did it when I was in my mid to late 30’s into my early 40’s. I was married and then I got divorced. I have had “LTR’s” (Long Term Relationships for those of you that don’t know the acronyms) and I have “played house.” Been there, done that. Don’t think I’ll be doing that any time in the near or far future again.

I wonder if the “PUA” guys have truly embraced their lifestyle. Have they truly embraced being a Hedonist? I don’t know, because I don’t know them personally, but I don’t think they have. I can’t imagine “settling down” again. I realize that there’s not a single woman on this planet who will “be everything for me.” It could be something huge like, fellatio. Or it could be something as simple as eating seafood.

Now mind you, I’m fully aware that she doesn’t “complete me.” I’m not looking for my “partner in crime, my soulmate, or my other half.” Looking outward for that is an exercise in futility. All of those things come from within.

But why should I compromise the things, the little things, the simple things that give me pleasure?

The short answer is I won’t.

I have already “compromised” and gave up the little pleasures in the past. Even something as small and easy as shellfish. I won’t do it again. Life is too short to give up on the little things. And at the end of the day, everything is the little things.

Will I be throwing “the baby out with the bathwater?” Possibly, but I don’t think so. That’s why I don’t want to date or have relationships with just one woman.

“Velvet,” whom I met about a month ago had some great questions for me:

“Do you compare the women you are seeing?”

Why would I do that? That’s apples to oranges. While AWALT is a real thing, at the same time, every woman I meet and end up seeing/dating/fucking brings their own unique perspectives and personalities to the table. Why would I compare them? If I did, I would cheating myself out of some great experiences and memories. I would be “throwing the baby out with the bathwater” on this one. So no, I don’t compare them.

“Do you hold back?”

No. I’m all in. I did the “hold back thing” years ago. Basically I was masturbating with another person’s body. I held back so that I didn’t “get hurt.” In the end, I was numb. And it sucked. It sucked more than the pain of heartache and heartbreak when a woman tells you that she has to move on. Or you tell her that you have to move on. So no, I don’t “hold back.” I’m all in. It can be tumultuous and it can hurt like hell, but it’s better than being numb by a long shot.

“Do you think you’ll change your mind about what you are doing?” (Seeing multiple people at the same time)

I’m open to it, but I don’t think I will. I like it. It has its drawbacks and there is some level of pain in it, but I can live with that. That’s the price of admission. The pros outweigh the cons for me. And, there’s always another woman.

So, is this “sustainable?” I don’t know honestly. So far it’s sustainable for me and I’m closer to 51 than not. I have no plans on changing my plans or my lifestyle any time soon.

It all comes back to a question that I asked a while ago:

What do you want?

What do you want, indeed? Most guys are terrified of their own shadows, let alone going after what they actually want. God forbid, it doesn’t work out the way you thought it would. God forbid, you suffer and experience some pain. God forbid.

Then again, when you truly “let go” and see what happens, that’s when you find that the world is yours. But you have to let go and go “down that rabbit hole.”