One Long, Childish Wail

Men Are Nothing More Than Clowns To The Modern Women

Roosh nailed it straight to the fuckin' wall.

"Do you want a man?"

Reaching right down into the gut of modern women, so brainwashed by modern life that they think a career and riding the cock carousel is the end-all be-all, to ask them what they actually want for themselves. Not what they've been brainwashed to believe they want. What they want deep inside. For themselves.

Most of them don't have a clue. The ones who do seem to be interested in having a man - who hesitate when saying "I don't know" - he considers a "yes". He then puts on the clown-act, making the effort to entertain her. Sex might ensue. Eventually one or both get bored and they move on to the next clown/woman.

This shows how women are entitled little brat children. The whole concept of expecting entertainment from a man is one long, childish wail of: "I'm booooored. Entertain meeeeeeee!"

Even frivorce because "I love him, but I'm not in love with him" and "he's changed" is just another way of saying that she got bored. So she's off to find someone more entertaining. Out with the long, childish wail: I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. Entertain meeeeeeee!

Of course marriage is yet another long, childish wail in a similar vein: Support meeeeeeee!

While finally, frivorce (or never getting married in the first place) might end in a final long, childish wail of: Where have all the guys gone? Entertain meeeeeeee!

What Roosh said is so close to the objection that many guys have about PUAs being a "dancing monkey" for women. Dancing monkey, entertaining clown, jumping through hoops for her shits and giggles. I've said it myself: if you're entertaining enough you might win the prize of fucking her, you dancing monkey you.

Even Roosh basically says it, having to entertain her like a clown to get some sex. Many days of entertaining to achieve a few hours of getting your dick wet in aggregate, before you're forced to find another one.

Is it so surprising that some men absolutely will not compromise their dignity and inner integrity for a few minutes inside a warm, wet hole? A warm, wet hole which has been well-used by many other men? A warm, wet hole that is often diseased? A warm, wet hole that even glorifies in its own degradation - perhaps doing anything for the dollars and shopping and experience, like the Dubai Porta Potty girls?

A warm, wet, well-used hole that often comes out with a long, childish wail: Put a ring on meeeeeeee!

You might call me cynical when I asked if that pussy was worth it. When I said that you get better mileage out of paying for prostitutes. Yet, where it's legal and regulated, why not? The chances are good that she's going to be a damnsight cleaner than the average slut you pick up in a bar (STD-wise) even if she's a shitload more jaded by life and the things she's done. Part of legal regulation is her getting checked regularly.

At least she won't be earbashing you about "what Sally said about Jude last night, and Jude, well, she's going to stick her claws into that bitch's hair and rip out a few clumps..." yadda fucking yadda. You're paying the cunt to keep her mouth shut (other than oral) and to get the fuck out once you're done.

So when your choices seem to be:

0/ getting married (becoming a slave-man) [Ed. I forgot this option, duh! - BPS]

1/ playing the clown (plus drama and the possibility of financial rape for 15+ years)

2/ paying for it (no drama)

3/ deciding to hell with it (no drama)

It's what you can live with. The choice is yours. What you can stand doing, what you are willing to risk, what you care enough about.

Nobody has the right to diss you for your choice, nor have they the right to choose for you. Even though women and manginas and certain people in the manosphere with an agenda think and act otherwise. (When *anyone* pulls out any form of shaming language, it's a good time to get really cynical and analytical about what their angle might be.)

More power to you, whichever way in life you choose. Myself, I prefer to quietly sip my Grand Marnier in peace - in the sun or in front of the fire - and to ignore the long, childish wailing coming from the miserable and lonely aged slut standing abandoned on the side of the road.