Desperate times…Desperate Measures…

Online dating… again

Well my life’s pretty shit at the minute. I’m not in a job I hate, I don’t have cancer, I’m not trapped as a wage-slave due to an evil ex-wife, I’m not in a Thai prison… right, yeah, it could be worse. Still… I’m depressed as fuck. All the tell-tale signs are there. The constant fatigue, bingeing, inability to focus, inability to carry out the simplest of tasks. It’s like being a lazy woman.

The root of my problems can be traced to lack of pussy. In a recent post of mine, where I jabbered about inner-game, a very wise potato said:

“My opinion is your core confidence isn’t dependent on external validation, but if you are getting consistently shit (and not improving) feedback from the world you are doing something wrong. Your genes demand you mate, and if you don’t they’ll punish you for it eventually.”

This is true. What’s happened to me is that IT’S JUST TOO LONG since I had any fanny in my life. Very long. So long ago it’s abstract. It’s intangible. Ontop of this it’s so long since I had any real FUN on a regular basis I’m in serious danger of becoming a cynical, miserable cunt. Anyone seen the last episode of South Park?

What happens is after so long without pussy your hindbrain, your reptilian brain, or if you will your genes, start punishing you for not propagating them, for not pursuing your primal urge. Procreate! Chase women!  If you don’t take steps to do so you get more and more miserable and life starts to go wrong. Unfortunately being a miserable cunt isn’t the most helpful of mental states to be in to woo a charming lady for the fuck-slab.

As regular readers or friends will know I’m not working at present and am caring for my pap. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands and my frontbrain knows I could be using this wisely to build up my IT skills and work on entrepreunarial projects with friends. Yet despite my repeated efforts to do so, and all my logical understanding of how good this will be for me, I remain unable to focus or achieve much. The reason for this is the fires down in the engine room don’t produce enough steam anymore. My frontbrain knows the logic and wisdom of doing all these chores and character-building stuff but my good old hindbrain is just plain old sick of being miserable. It wants pleasure. It wants it now. And it will provide fuck all steam to do anything else until it gets it. Poof! I’m dead serious here. I feel like my entire life has run out of steam and I will be unable to do anything at all  until I solve this problem.

Having some mates and doing social stuff would be awesome but the most important thing is getting pussy. I’m confident that if I can aggressively vent a load of salty frustration into some real, living flesh twice a week, even that of a semi-gross mud turtle, it will do me the power of good. Screw the standards, I just need to get my rocks off.

Welcome back to online dating!

I’ve finally managed to scrape enough serotonin together for an evening to prepare and update my profile and send some messages. I think it was eating two tubs of Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream back to back that did it.

My frame is perfect for online dating; I don’t expect much, I don’t take it at all seriously and I don’t give a  fuck. Gone are the days when I’d laboriously read girls’ profiles and craft messages. Bullshit. Women are stupid retards and have zero logic, the only possible way to survive the process is by not giving a shit.

What better system to use than the Jambone Online Game method. This will be described in full in his upcoming eBook from the RSG Press but in brief this is what I did:

• Got myself in a flippant mood and cranked out a profile:

• Did a search and opened up 20 profiles of girls who looked at least a 6. Given that this is the North East this was not as easy as it sounds. 5 were lost due to collateral damage when I realised how fucking gross they were. Yet again the general standard of women in the North is astoundingly low. Shit in fact. I digress..
• Cut and pasted the same subject and message text into each message.

I won’t describe the actual text as women, damn their petty suspicious, grubbing minds, often google these things, but it was pretty irreverent. In fact totally irreverent. Here’s a representative example:

Subject:

Blue cakes don’t fall

Message:

Hey! I noticed you looking at my profile. At least stop and say hello you perv.

I don’t even finish sending all 15 before I get my first reply.

Got more ice-cream to eat and Minecraft to play but will keep you posted.

 

[update]

Nice quote: “celibacy is a living death”