Hello, Would You Like to Fuck?

I came to an interesting realization tonight. It makes me part narcissist, part misogynist, part delusional perhaps, yet mostly self aware and truthful.

I’d just seen a movie with a girl I’ve been fucking for a few weeks. Post movie we’d fucked, once, for about 40 minutes. I decided I didn’t want to stay over, so excused myself saying I wanted my own bed that night. She wished me luck battling the subway system, and I kissed her good night as I headed out.

Walking onto the eerily empty 3am subway platform I noticed a girl, solid 7.5, sitting on the bench. She smiled. I sat down at the opposite end, and minding my own business wrote down a quick thought in my moleskin I had with me from an earlier class.

“What’r you writing?”

I looked up to see her talking to me, and we proceeded to make small conversation as we rode the train.

“I get off next stop, I’d love to hang out sometime, we should keep on touch”, I said.

“Sure,” she responded, “what’s your number? Last name?” After exchanging information I bid her good night as I got off the train, and it hit me.

I’m good.

Now, not the kinda good that walks into a bar and every girl wants to jump me. But the kinda good that I know as soon as I begin talking to a girl, that if she agrees to exchange information, I pretty much know that we will have sex if I want to. Barring a last minute flake on her part, or an unusual girl who clarifies on the second date that she wants something serious or is a devout Mormon, I’m pretty much vag deep without pulling down my pants.

I’m aware this sounds sick, and I’m not on the prowl like I was a few short months ago. It’s just that it’s a powerful realization to come to, that I can pretty much make sure sex happens when I want it. If I want to get laid, I can, and easily.


Guys Like Us Are the Most Honest Men Around

I came far in the past year in my own game. Went from a fuck or 2 a year, to what should be shaping up to 3 girls a month. Alot of my friends, even those who encouraged me to “get out there more, fuck around some more” now think I’m crazy. Especially those in relationships.

Whenever I develop feelings for a girl, almost immediately I develop feelings of being constricted and locked down. So that’s how I know I’m not “ready for a relationship” – as if it’s something to aspire to – and that’s how I am (slowly) learning to avoid feelings in the 1st place.

They call us perv’s. Perverts? US??? We’re just the most honest men on the planet really. Most guys settle down, because they are doing exactly that. SETTLING. DOWN. Settling for less, because they’re too cowardly to admit that all they want is pussy, or too scared to go out and get it.

“Until you’ve experienced love you’re just an immature guy in your 20’s running around chasing women”, they say. Yes Mr. Relationship, let’s talk again after the bitch who’s “loyal” cheats on you. Besides, who chases women? That’s where they go all wrong. As Roosh always says “Don’t put the pussy on the Pedestal.” I think I’ll take a naked poster of Mila Kunis, write that phrase across her tits and hang it above my bed. It’s where I’ll continue to mark my notches.

Fucking one girl may make you feel loved and wanted. Fucking many girls will make you feel like a man who can fend for himself.

Sure, we have to lie sometimes about our intentions to get the fuck, keep her around etc. But at least we aren’t lying to ourselves, and aren’t dishonest to women about the very thing they need. They do need to feel loved and wanted, and little do they know the men they’re with secretly just want more pussy, and they’re the easy way out of having to chase it. Even when the guy in a relationship is an Alpha male, and she is super hot, chances are he’s with her ONLY because of the pussy, not because he’s in love or anything like that. But in that case, being in a relationship is perhaps to be commended.

Bottom line, we may lie, but at least we are true to ourselves. Happy hunting.

PS: In the name of full disclosure, I don’t know if Mila’s ever posed naked. For a camera that is.

My Inner Beta

I usually avoid becoming Facebook friends with any girl I have a romantic interest in, at least for the first few weeks. And by romantic, I mean anything ranging from a bar-slut you want to pump and dump/be steady fuck buddies with or a cute girl you met and asked out for drinks, and have a feeling she isn’t the fuck buddy type, if there even is such a thing as not being a fuck buddy type.

Well I took my own lesson with blue-haired girl, and haven’t friended her, and won’t at least not until I get the bang, hopefully this weekend. I didn’t take my lesson with another girl I met at a get together a friend was having at a bar. I friended her before getting her number. First mistake. The reason I did that was because I wasn’t sure if she was with a close friend of my buddy or not…until my buddy said, “Hey, she’s single, go for her.” So I did. I walked over to her and said let’s grab a drink tomorrow night. Good.

“Be bold. Make your move. Ask her out. Just kidding, fuck her without asking her out. Or forever regret it.” – Cookie Monster (just kidding he never said that)

But now, I’m sitting here, a day before our meetup, and am thinking twice before posting anything on Facebook, because if i keep posting stuff, she’ll think I sit at home all day on my computer. Which of course isn’t remotely true. Honestly. Now on one hand, I’d hate to have my verbal stream of diarrhea that is my Facebook feed cut off, as I feel it’s a good method of expressing myself, and I have legit things to post about. On the other hand “Dude, WTF, posting on Facebook more than once a week? So 2007.” Possibly, but irrelevant, as I’m discussing the reason why, in my current state, I don’t friend the bitch right away.

On another note, I’m taking this girl to a spot I usually reserve for girls I want to fuck, more than date. It’s a hip neighborhood type bar/lounge. But with a divey vibe to it. Pool table + couches + exotic beer list = fun but very cozy spot. I am however second guessing myself as to my choice of locale for tomorrow night. Perhaps I should have chosen something more upscale? But no, why am i treating this girl differently than any other girl I went out with for a drink. I dunno, but something about her screams date material only. Perhaps it’s my inner beta coming to the surface, perhaps it’s just me, not wanting to conform to social dictates of the PUA community saying not to put any pussy on the pedestal.

(Oh, by the way, anyone ever get the feeling between the time you met her originally and set a date, to the time before the date, that she’s not interested/date won’t be good, etc.? Maybe she’s just a really shitty texter…

Which is why I also like to avoid texting…)

Besides, I’m not a PUA anyway. I’m just a regular dude, who loves constantly approaching girls (as I haven’t been in a long term relationship recently) and having a good time.

“Good night moon.

Good night work and your annoying boss that always emails.

It’s time for you to come and play.

Turn your phone off, sidle up to me.

I’ll grope you, feel you, strip you naked and fuck you.

Good night world.”


Time will tell won’t it.

The place DOES have a pool table...

This represents the 8 ball.

Except I’m stupid so I posted a 7. Kind of the way you see a girl, think she’s a 9. Look again and she’s a 7. Least she could do is strip dance on the pool table.

Dear Girls I Don’t Yet Know, I Love You.

“When life throws you lemons, grab life by the tits and fuck the shit out of it.” -livingnowalways

It’s been an all nighter. My brain feels heavy from all the weed, my body from lack of sleep. I spent all night chilling with my friends working on our latest project. I step outside. The air’s moist, warm from the sun which has been up for an hour. It’s not even 6am. The sun is so bright! Why is it in my eyes. I wish it wouldn’t shine in my eyes. My feet crunch over the gravel, it smells like morning.

A girl, maybe 20, jogs by plugged into her iPod. She wears black spandex pants and a grey tank top, ponytail tucked through the back of her baseball cap.

She looks fine, damn.

I begin walking toward the train station; I’d love to get home so I can go to bed already. My heads pounding, contacts are really sticking to my eyeballs now. I must remove them. I pass the local business men, some rushing off to the train in oversized baggy suits, some still exercising. I pass deliverymen delivering fresh papers to local homes. Those homes. So neat, little white picket fences, dogs running loose in yards. I smell fresh coffee being brewed, can almost hear bacon sizzling on stoves.

I wish no part in their life style, my own pursuits prevent that, yet this glorious morning makes me realize that’s no excuse for me to stay awake nights and sleep half of everyday. I’m accomplishing. I really am. But I must get back on track. I will be a whole new different type of person. I’ll get up early, eat properly, exercise outdoors. By the time 10AM hits I’ll be energized, dressed and showered, ready to further my career, read smart books and blog.

There’s a balance somewhere.

“And this is where shit gets twisted.” -livingnowalways

A part of me is depraved. And proudly so. I love to meet new girls, drunk,  high and forget life for a moment or two. Or live it. Yet, there’s also something to leaving your phone at home, trading in lust, for genuine love. Temporary, perhaps. Genuine nonetheless. I understand as much as the next guy, the thrill of the Hunt, the thrill of the chase for a new girl to fuck silly. But that doesn’t have to be without love. Is one to say that i can’t love many girls at once? Perhaps I can love humanity! So, here’s my letter to the cute girls of the world:

Dear _______,

You’re really sweet. We fucked the other night behind the bar where we met. You were so hot, so horny, and so helpless, you practically melted my cock with your sweetness. But instead, you took it like a champ, moaning with pleasure all the way through. We should get to know each other, perhaps go for coffee. Perhaps we share a common favorite book, or artist, and can go catch a book  signning, or jam session. Please don’t ask me if I’m using you just for sex. I don’t even know what that means. You’re cute, have great tits and ass, and you enjoy getting fucked as much as I enjoy fucking you.

So, let’s go to a lake, go boating, go on a hike, dust off those spandex. Let’s be healthy together. We’ll eat well, sleep well, and fuck well. Living, really LIVING, doesn’t always have to be under the influence. lets go out to the mountain side, leave our cellphones behind, and just be with eachother. I’ll lean against a rock overlooking a cliff and you’ll lean up against me, so that I can hear you breathe, and I can feel your ass up against my cock. We’ll feel together, in a loving way, yet so depraved, as you’d be so vulnerable to virtual stranger, and I to you. I’ll be happy to share an experience with you, and I hardly know anything about you; I don’t need to. Your breathing gets a bit shallower and quicker and my hand slides down over those spandex. Moist, like the air of the morning. I softly kiss you, and slide my cock over your thighs, and while hugging you closer I enter your wetness, and it feels good, I feel like I’ve known you forever, like I want to hold you forever. You and that cute little ass of yours.

I may do this again tomorrow, with your best friend, who also has brown eyes and perky breasts, and for the no reason thinks you’re a bitch. I’m not using you, and you’re not using me. We’re loving eachother, in the moment.

And yes, perhaps after our hike and fuck, if we have energy when we get home, I’ll turn down the lights, turn on the music, and we’ll have a mini Amsterdam mega-club right here in my own NYC living room, with all its illicit connotations. But for a moment, just a moment, together, we can clear our vision, and in the fresh mountainous air we can love, and be loved. I like looking at you. The way your beautiful breasts are outlined by your black tanktop, the way I can trace the outline of your slim body. Do you know at this moment I love you. I do not lust for you. I look at you, and am overcome by intense caring and love. I’d do anything for you, and you mean everything to me. 

And I barely know you. 

With every fiber of my body, the strain of my cock against my boxers, and the tears in my eyes as I’m overcome with emotion, love and passion, you’re truly mine,


“There are no lines between love and lust. Only passion exits.” -livingnowalways

“Imagine no possessions. I wonder if you can.” -John Lennon