Diary update #3

I’m also meditating and doing chi-kung in the sunshine every morning. I’d gotten in the crazy habit of frequently orgasming, as well as getting very fat and out of shape and drinking too much.

It was an incredible slide, and now it’s zero to hero time.

I feel so much better! Fasting is having a very positive effect on my chronic stomach inflamation. I wake up in the morning with no stomach pain. Amazing. Haven’t felt this good in ages.

Another benefit of fasting is simply knowing that I can. And knowing that I can easily, with very little inconvenience.

I don’t want to be that guy who is too soft to go in the swimming pool because it’s cold at first. I want to be that guy who can handle a little bit of inconvenience from time to time. I’m not so much into being tough that I take cold showers though; I do when there is no hot water heater, which is common in low rent places locals use, and I can go a year without a hot water heater, but if it’s there, personally I use it for the intended purpose. Fine – I’m soft that way. That’s where I’m at in that balance. Comfort is good, but avoiding discomfort when it’s required is kinda pussy, and I don’t want to be on that side of the pussy curve.

Meditating at first is a bit uncomfortable. So is fasting, chi-kung, not coming, working out, not drinking. After it becomes routine it not only gets easier, but pleasure is found in it. And the rewards are slow and cumulative. Baseline wellness after the mildly annoying habits are routine and have been practiced for several months is far above baseline happiness when eating and drinking at will, and letting the mind do anything it pleases all the time.

I can’t much even feel the chi-kung unless I do it daily for a good few weeks, and if I don’t deepen the chi-kung with alternating with shamata vipassana, for one or three hours a day, I rarely feel it VERY strongly.

It’s the same for the sitting quietly. It can take a few weeks before I really quiet down. I don’t push myself or struggle about it; I’m not in a huge hurry to have a quiet mind. I don’t really try to meditate; not much. But after a few weeks, I’m meditating. It makes quite a difference to the morning, and eventually bleeds into dreams. Everything gets more colorful and panoramic.

And the chi-kung makes it so that I don’t have to come if I don’t want to. So I haven’t in two weeks. And not coming of course makes me not only have more stamina, but in the long run, combined with chi-kung and shamata-vipassana meditation, also means the base level of contentment, joy, and love increases.

J and I always role play – every day. Very often she’s a random neighbor from next door who wants to fuck me, as long as my wife isn’t too close by. Very often before blow jobs, she’ll sniff my dick and declare that she smells pussy. “Pussy! Hmmm. It smells like 14 year old.” We’re both jealous people – potentially crazy jealous – but not too triggered by a little role play. She knows how to make a man out of me, and we don’t risk any bed death.

I had really really fucked up, listening to her “I love you so much, marry me, never leave me” over and over day after day. I got soft.

You can’t do that. It’s got to be seducing the girl from day one, every day.

I’ve got to actually be worth it. Not just because we’re already together and inertia. I’ve got to be worth it compared to the next guy, if she were choosing for the first time.

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Diary update #2

J25 had been acting progressivly more cranky for a few weeks, and was also getting a bit less responsive in bed. As was I, I admit. So I told her that I had noticed both things, and that we could not keep going on like that – totally unacceptable, and that it was largely my fault, because I’d let my belly go to pot.

Then I went to my other location and wouldn’t see her for several days. I think I made three full days on a water diet, but it might have been two full days and an evening meal on the third. Either way I’m still doing intermittent fasting – one day to eat and hit the gym, and the next day no food at all.

It was really embarrassing how far I’d let things slide. Even after over five 24 hour periods of no food, and one chicken with rice on three food days, I’ve still got a belly I’m not happy flashing around on the beach. And my arms and chest are at the lowest they’ve been in … what … 8 years? 10?

That’s what getting complacent will do to ya. Ruin your own body, and ruin your own relationship.

Man, so easy to slide.

Needless to say the fear of Dog was put into the little girl, and when I let her see me after some days she gave me her best possible fucking effort, and a very satisfying effort it was. She’s actually a bit extra clingy now – a little annoying really – but curling the paper in reverse for a while is better than letting it harden into a tube.

In other news, I think I’ve found a new direction in life and business. I kept trying and trying to motivate myself to fix old reliable and very workable businesses, but I just. could. not. get myself to do it.

Day after day I would promise myself, this will be the day I do the work. I know exactly what to do. It’s easy. I can even very easily tell others what to do.

But I’ve got these mental blocks that refuse to allow myself even to follow up on directing others work.

Over a year of that is a serious fucking issue. It must really mean it’s time to move on from that. My hearts not in it.

So I found what my heart is in, and will build a new business based on that.

I’m pretty stocked about it. I think I’ve thought it through well enough that this can be a life’s and a retirements passion – a wave to surf right to the end.

*******

A few thoughts about dieting.  I have three ex girlfriends who have put on weight and can’t or won’t get it back off again.  Always nothing but talk, and aborted efforts at intermittent fad dieting.

Losing weight is really quite simple, and can be done very quickly.  A very simple diet plan.

Don’t eat.

That’s it.  That’s the whole book.  It’s the title of the book, and what’s in between the covers.  Don’t eat food.

When you know that you are not going to eat food, you don’t get hungry.  Just like when you choose to not masturbate for a month, and stay away from triggers that arouse you beyond your will-power, it’s quite easy.  Once you make that choice, your body knows, and doesn’t bother you about it.

It’s the exact same thing for mosquito bites.  No one ever believes me about that one, but for most species of mosquito it’s true.  The small asian ones that give a painful bite leave a pain that lasts minutes, but it doesn’t actually make you want to scratch it, once you simply KNOW that you are not going to.  When you KNOW you are not going to scratch, your brain leaves you the fuck alone about it, and doesn’t bother to get into a big argument with you.

It’s when you are unsure if you have the willpower or not that you get these big long drawn out inner arguments about if the hand is going to move or not.

Fasting is the same thing.  You don’t actually even feel hungry.  Two full days no food, I was not hungry.  No lie.  It’s only when I start to contemplate when I’ll end the fast, that the gastric juices activate in anticipation.

Also when fasting I don’t let J eat in front of me.  I don’t want anything to activate my salivary glands.  No triggers, no hunger.  Really, it’s that simple.  Not rocket science.  Want to lose weight?  Don’t eat food.

I don’t have perfect or even above average willpower.  I’m a god damned alcoholic who still hasn’t figured out how to handle a drink.  But I do know one simple trick – if you fall down, just get back up again.

It’s not rocket science.  We can all do it.

Body out of shape?  Ok, fine, so you fell down.  We all do.  Stop eating for a while.  Or eat only after 8pm every day until you like what you see in the mirror.

Just get back up again.

Drinking too much?  Oh, that again.  Ok, so you fucked up.  You might not be able to unfuck a fuck, but you can just stop the fuckery.  For a while, at least.

Even if your think that your willpower is shot, due to some addiction or another, you might discover that it’s not really – you just need to re-discover your ability to stand up again.  It’s a bit of a different circuit than day to day willpower.  It’s just a decision you make all at once.  Then the inner argument is over.  A cheat to make it easier is to make an inner bargain to not do something for x amount of time.  Once you SEE that you can actually do it, then the next time you KNOW that you can actually do it.  Then you KNOW that there won’t be any inner argument about it.  It’s called making a decision, and it’s a different mental circuit than not reaching for a smoke when you are in the mood, or not taking an extra doughnut.

Standing back up again isn’t all that hard.

And frankly once I had my 3 times a week gym discipline set up, it was easy too.  I don’t know how I let that slide.  I used to be really stringent about it.  That’s got to be a decision again – no back talk.

Diary update

Living with J25 is going well.  We laugh and joke around a lot, she’s getting sex addicted and coming more, we’re in mutual love and she tells me she loves me at least 20 times a day.  Maybe a hundred some days?

I think of V less, the more J25 comes, but when I do think of her it still aches.

It’s unusual in my life for a girl to stay broken up with me.  V was in love and very bonded, but made a decision it seems she will stick to.  That seems foreign and strange to me, but I can understand and respect it.  She’s got some new guy, for better or worse, and she has some strong ideas about relationship, and her future.

This blog is dangerous to my relationships.  Most girls find out about it eventually.  It likely contributed to losing V.

So it’s dangerous and tricky to talk about non-monogamy.

In a previous post I talked about settling down to be with just one girl instead of the usual habit of maintaining multiple long term relationships.  However in some dreams I still have fresh loving fun with a harem – often newly found.

So I’m wary of kissing and telling, for fear of destroying hearts and my life.  It’s a shame, as I do enjoy having an open diary on the internet.  Long time readers will be left in the dark as to the status of my social life, except for references to my new “Daughter” J25.

Guessing why girls so often fall in love fast

Daysofgame.com asked

do you have any notes about what you do to go from “physical stranger” to “spiritual sex?

I don’t do anything.

I’ve never done any state control, of any kind. It has never crossed my mind. All I did was fix my hair and makeup, and drive over. Not a single canned line. I’ve never in my life done any routine.

I’ve never paid any attention to anything about stages of seduction, when to spike attraction, when to give comfort, how to show value, how to give the illusion of scarcity etc. I’ve seen people talk about it, but it has never resonated with me. That all seems so video-gamey. A guy could easily get out of the moment, over-thinking things, trying too hard, I think. Then where is the connection? The whole reason you are there? Lost to agenda.

I wasn’t trying to accomplish or do anything, exactly. I don’t do A in order to get B result – not at all.

I’ve never intentionally made a girl fall in love with me. I’m simply very loving and loveable. Really – it’s true. I know a lot of guys can’t even visualize what that might be like, as cynicism runs so deep in our world. I truly love women – genuinely love them. And I truly am strongly capable of giving and receiving genuine love.

And of course part of being able to love is loving your own shadow side. I’m mostly an open book, and I mostly love myself, and I mostly am able to make friendly arrangements with even the dark ugly corners of the human condition. I don’t love ideals, and am not ideal – I try to make honest, real, close, loving relationships, based on reality.

Oh, and more than just being loving, I’m kinda funny, in a bitter-sweet dark chocolate kind of way. Very sexual humor. I never tell canned jokes, or deliberately try to be funny, but it’s just a habit to wring the most pleasure out of the absurdity of life, by pointing to it and laughing. I usually keep a straight face while being off-handedly witty, as if I did not just crack wise, and the humor flows seamlessly. My gf said that I have the ability to make people happy. She said that she instantly trusted me and knew that I was a good man, with a good heart.

I’d say that a major core of my seduction skill came from my father, who is a strongly monogamous family man. He’s a very loving man – the kind of guy who children instantly fall in love with and want to sit on his lap and play with him. He’s also a natural authority, and always instantly seen and respected as such. He’s never been embarrassed to be loving, and just considers it natural. My grandmother was perhaps the root of his personality core; I visited at age twelve and in two weeks absorbed her into my being. The most loving person I’ve ever met – you could go a whole lifetime without realizing it was possible for someone like her to exist. Other mentors must seep in. My best friend and mentor during my very formative years at the monastery and meditation centers, was always described by everyone as having a highly seductive personality. Very charming. And also a natural authority.

But I’m just guessing. Introspection is difficult and so is understanding what it is that works and why. I can do, but can I teach?

An example of my sense of humor would be when I was feeling vulnerable and roughly pushed her away from me, my hand shoving the center of her chest, and screamed “I don’t want to love you!”

You can see that I’ve internalized a few principles of game here, within the joke. Instead of being puppy eyed sappy and vulnerable, I turn it around and make fun of myself and use the situation as a push, and make a common – we are together in this deal because I’m recognizing how these things work, out loud , I’m sure you are feeling this too – joke out of it. I point at the absurdity of the situation, and that brings us together, and is a push pull all at once.

That was totally spur of the moment. I’ve been living with girls and dating girls for a long time, and have spent a lot of time reading and writing about it. So there is a lot of stuff that is internalized and incorporated on the spot without conscious thought or effort.

I haven’t really paid a lot of attention to it, but I think I make similar types of jokes all the time. A few girlfriends kept telling me that I was funny, and laughed a lot. If we both don’t speak the same language, I still manage to get laughs, using pantomine. Laughter was a big part of my sales technique for the many years that I was a travelling salesman.

I was talking with J yesterday about how we incorporate different accents and speech mannerisms from others. It’s unconscious, but I’m always incorporating mannerisms from my girlfriends. S16, who is now S19 shows up in my speech patterns a lot – she had some very fun little quirky speech patterns that add some extra joy to how to pronounce certain words or respond to certain situations. Very joyful and playful. It’s interesting, because on the whole her personality was rather crap – but at her best she was a joy, and some of her best is very noticeable in how I speak.

I think we are sponges, and what we sponge depends quite a bit on our attitude. I’ve sponged some core characteristics of being loving, and then worked extremely diligently to capitalize on them with Buddhist meditation practices to increase loving kindness, year after year. Little speech mannerisms here and there get soaked up. V was very kind and easy going and we had a great companionate relationship, and I learned a lot from her and sucked her up, these last three years.

Meditation and chi-kung teachers teach not only mindfullness techniques, but are great resources for vibe. You can suck up and internalize the vibes of your most respected mentors, and that makes you a more attractive person.

And most likely the strongest, number one reason that girls fall hard for me is the sex. Chi-kung sex is an absolute must, and everything that I am revolves around it.

Everything that I am revolves around it. Chi-kung sex can be a core of a being.

It’s about communion, power, expression, naked awareness. Love as spiritual awakening to the glory of inter-subjective wonder. Seeing god in the eyes of your lover, time stretching, seeming to share the same sensations as if unbounded by bodies, while discovering a fresh strong inhabiting of a body that seems to be energy that expands out well past the skin, into her, into the air, all with so much control and finesse – making operas and symphonies and beats out of sexual energy in various places of my and her body.

Sex is a lot about vibe. Our intonations in the voice carry quite a lot of the emotional transfer – at least as much – more even – than how we move our bodies. You have to feel a lot in order to make a woman feel a lot.

Oh, I guess that’s hitting the nail on the head.

You have to feel a lot in order to make a woman feel a lot.

Firstly being a safe space where emotions can happen (love) secondly being able to arouse and feel and share strong emotions (chi-kung sex, or simply looking in her eyes).

Both of those are not techniques that you can learn, in the same way you can memorize a script, or learn stages of seduction. Those are not things to do, those are things to be. That’s about developing your self, year after year, to be able to open to your own emotions, and love yourself, and share all that you are with others, while taking delight in what they share, and making workable deals with all the shit that comes from inside and outside.

Which is why sometimes I talk about grief, and not trying too hard to avoid it entirely. Why I make fun of people who warn against “catching feelings” or use the term “one-itis”, as if they are on the inside track to true wisdom by becoming anhedonic drones.

Catching feelings is the whole fucking point of being with a woman! That’s why you showed up for the date in the first place!

Update: Another example of the little twists that I keep injecting into most every turn of the conversation, to make them more playful and fun:

She looks up at me, ready to go out, and in an insecure tone of voice and face asks:

“Don’t I look beautiful?”

I examine her face inquisitively, not letting any final judgment show up on my face yet, then pinch both of her cheeks at once firmly, and declare with a look of satisfaction:

“There! Now you are beautiful!”

A careful reader will notice the heavy use of hypnosis and NLP. Or perhaps they will read it from the viewpoint of owning the frame, or dominance. Lots of game aspects you could interpret into that little joke.

Can’t you just imagine doing that to your middle aged female child, and then the youngest would come running up shouting “Daddy, make me beautiful too!”

Then she says that even though she’ll be out, she’s installed CCTV cams everywhere, even in my body. “Hey! I never agreed to that! Did you install a CCTV cam in my body while I was sleeping?” “Yes, in your dick”. “Oh, and you have it hooked up to an app on your phone, and can see it anytime!” I then do a routine describing a day in the life of the dick cam, and close out the joke with looking at her askance and with exaggerated scepticism, shaking my index finger back and forth between pointing at her eyes and mine and I accuse, “Are you trying to fool me? I don’t think that you did really put a camera in my dick, did you!” That closes out the joke and we both break out laughing.

I paid attention today and I’m constantly making these little fun twists in the conversation, injecting a lively spirit. And it’s heavily laden with game theory, if you later examine it. But it all comes out on the spot, improvised in a flash.

Update: I like to go on youtube binges soaking up everything I can about and from people I admire.  The last was David Spade.  He is very off the cuff witty in interviews, and can when he wants be very humble and charming.  At other times he can be impatient and not suffer fools gladly.  But always extremely fast and sharp.  The Marc Maron WTF podcasts are a good resource to discover new people to investigate.

It’s easy to notice that some ugly comedians have a history of doing very well with women.  I’m sure the fame can play a big role, but it’s more than that.  I’ve always found as a salesman that once I made someone laugh they were mine; they were sold on me and almost wanted to buy something from me just in appreciation of making them laugh.  To celebrate and cement the camaraderie.

Don Knots was considered to be a charming ladies man, and did well with women and had beautiful wives.

My girlfriend (who in my head I call my wife) hosted a small party last night, and dragged me down to join the group her and three friends.  We shared some drinks and soon were laughing with near every sentence, and one guy kept saying that I was funny.  A bit difficult to do with the language barrier, but jokes can be kept simple, such as my girl saying “I’m need to go pee”, and I look at her tenderly and point to my mouth and say “pee in my mouth”.  Simple jokes, if delivered in succession, can have the group laughing and laughing.  Groups can get into a state where there are ripe to laugh.

I was impressed by how she handled herself being falling down drunk, and the quality of her friends.  She kept calling me her husband, which always makes my dick hard.  And the dick never lies.  She seems so very proud of me, and we are already so coupled, it’s quite touching, and you could see that her friends respected our mate choices.

It’s interesting that I’ve never written about the role of humor in seduction or maintaining a relationship before.  I’ve never even noticed that I’m constantly making little jokes.  Points to the benefit of blogging and talking to others, I guess.  I can’t believe that I missed something so important.  Explaining what we do really is quite different than doing what we do.

What xplat looks like, and how his game is fundamentally different than what red pill and pua says is possible

K said:

Roughly how old are you? 50’s? 60’s?
And would you be able to provide a photo of someone who looks similar to you? Like a celebrity that people have said they remind you of or something?
I’d be very interested to get a sense of exactly what you mean when you say you’re old and ugly, and very interested to get a sense of how long it would take before I too might be aged out of the sexual marketplace

Early fifties.

Colin Mochrie, from Whose Line is it Anyway

Brian Johnson from AC/DC

Steve Buscemi

I’ve already had a face-lift and surgery to remove bags under my eyes. I plan to do fat transfer from my belly to my face. I use make-up and a wig. On good days the wig looks real. I workout and am wiry strong, but never get big. I’m short at about 5’7″

I could always get new girlfriends, but the question is hot and young girlfriends. The cultural landscape has been changing in SEA, and girls are less and less interested in older men – at least the hottest girls with the most options are.

If you look at these photos, and then read how my most recent date, as usual, turned into an instant full blown love affair from day one
https://xsplat.wordpress.com/2018/01/22/forced-against-my-will-to-replace-my-primary-and-the-usual-fast-bonding/
you’ll get some glimpse into how MOST of red pill knowledge is cartoonishly over simplified and more accurately called wrong than right.

This latest turn of events is so common for me, that I’ve been repeating how it happens over and over, throughout the years, and then it just keeps happening and happening. In fact just a few days before meeting this girl I described how dates usually turn into love at first sight dates. I have some posts about love at first site game, and how to do it.

I’m the ONLY person who writes about this, and apparently even the only one who knows that it’s possible.

Look at my pics again, read my post, and re-evaluate what is the real dating market and how it really works, and what “game” really can be.

Most people have absolutely no clue and are no where even in the right ball park of a clue.

I also have posted pics of some of my girlfriends on my blog, and visitors who have come out and met some of them have described them as from very attractive to fucking hot. My newest girlfriend is a slim yet curvy, just turned 25  21, 7 point something on the attractiveness scale* , who has a rare inner beauty that moves her out of the pretty category and into the beautiful category. Every part of her, individually, is beautiful, even her little shapely feet. It’s day 7, and she can’t stop saying I love you or asking to fuck again.

* – No one would call her a six. Maybe a few men might say 8. When she’s smiling she can be an 8. I don’t give 8s out easily – a crowded beach might have one on it within strolling distance, and often doesn’t. Eights get love at first sight reactions from men, and there is extremely strong competition for them, from the rare men who even dare to consider an 8 as possibly within his league.

Why xsplat might settle down. Marry even.

In answer to axiom verge: You are asking if I explain away doing selfish actions of breaking hearts with justifications, making the actions moral in my mind through justifications.

Yes, I do.

This subject is confusing. And very painful.

I feel really horrible for what happened with V. The woman loved me and did absolutely everything possible to be the best girlfriend for me, with the aim of being my wife and having a family with me.

I feel terrible that I wasn’t able to do it with her.

I want to know why.

So I try to examine my own motives, and ambitions, and desires, put them together with how I understand hers, and try to come up with a grand theory of mind that includes both of our strategies.

It quickly becomes obvious that we have competing strategies.

So I can’t just take sides, with hers. With the “feminine imperative”, or the female centric monogamous strategy. I have instincts and drives also that are just as foundational to my well being, even if they aren’t as culturally acceptable.

I know that I can’t sit at the round table of polite society, among other couples, as a guy with a woman in love with him who continues to seek out new girls. The playboys and playgirls can sit at that table. But I can’t, because I don’t fit into any of the accepted roles.

A guy is supposed to either settle down, or date around and never let anyone fall in love too much. My strategy is to fall in love, in parallel with more than one girl.

That doesn’t fit in, and I know it causes pain, and confusion.

I can’t justify it, but I can’t not justify it either – I mean – it is what it is – the cards that I’ve been dealt. I didn’t create the human condition. I didn’t create the fact that I can feel stifled and bored and trapped. I don’t have an off switch in my head for these instinctual hard wired evolved emotional urges to breed with the hottest women that I can attract.

These are VERY strong urges for me. My whole life, every fiber in my being, every act that I do in my life, is ALL geared towards mating with hot girls.

I’m evolved, born and bred, cultivated, in one and only one direction. So how can I stop being me?

Evolution is not about justification. It’s not about polite society.

I really wish that I was wired as a family man. Some guys are, and I truly believe that is another evolved hard wired instinctual personality type strategy.

Some guys are evolved to prefer monogomy, and this has been measured as low socio-sexual score in the psychological community. Others, like me, have an extremely high socio-sexual score, and enjoy, crave, and one might even say psychologically NEED sex with less long term commitment in our lives, with occasionally new partners.

It’s not an excuse, or justification. If we don’t follow our wiring, we can’t just suck it up. There are consequences. We become less able to be kind to our partners, act worse towards them, and things go downhill. So we try our best to work with what reality gave us. This real world, and our real urges and desires in it.

Here is a horrible, horrible example. One that’s happened to me more than once, but I’ll use this example specifically:

I once dated a 19 year old virgin. I found her face to be very attractive, and we quickly fell in love and she quickly gave me her virginity. We became bonded, and she was very much in love with me.

I was in Thailand at the time, and the culture there is much more promiscuous, and it was quite common for some guys and girls to have various forms of side lovers, one form of which is called “gik”, which means no strings attached lover. The gik is not expected to be faithful, and not expected to ask too many questions about your other lovers. Affairs also happen, which of course is more emotionally involved and complicated.

I mention the context because even though she was a virgin, she was not naive; she grew up in a millieu of some sexual refinement. You can’t be too naive in Thailand.

So while I was dating her, I had another main girlfriend, and was also actively dating and meeting new girls from time to time.

The nineteen year old, P19, loved me the most. My other girl S23, had other boyfriends and was a bit of a playgirl, but we had also formed some bonds, and had very frequent sex. S23 is the one who once looked up at me with pupply dog eyes and said “Dad, why I love you Dad? You no rich, you no handsome. Why I love you Dad?” It was a serious heartfelt question and she wanted a serious reply.

Here is the point of the story; at night I would often leave the side of P19, to go to the “internet cafe” and work, but instead of working go see S23. With P19 I could only have brief sex before I got tired or soft. With S23 I could go all night. And yet I loved P19 much more.

It was very confusing, and if you use morals to understand the world you’d go fucking crazy. There was nothing moral about it. It was biological. S23 was the hotter girl, and more my type. Smaller, for one thing. I like small girls.

Since then I’ve thought about that situation many times.

And I’m reminded of it with what happened with V.

V was more my type, physically, than P19, but a similar thing happened even when I first met her. At the same time I as I was initially dating V23, I had another lover, S17. S is extremely small. Imagine the smallest sexually mature girl you know, and that’s S. V would visit me, and have sex until I felt too tired for more. Then at midnight she’d have to go home, and S would come over, and we’d fuck all night. I NEVER got tired with S. I got tired with V after about an hour.

Same thing.

Eventually V and I grew into a stronger sexual chemistry. Which was a bit of new information to add; ok, so sexual chemistry can also grow.

But it was growing from a different base.

Most of the time that I dated V, I had other lovers, at least one. But eventually I gave them up, in order that she wouldn’t break up with me again, because I was very in love and attached to her, as my mate.

But I found it very difficult to do – too difficult.

And now my introspection can’t exactly tell me why.

Was it because fundamentally I need a plurality of girls?

Or was it because she wasn’t hot enough and my style enough to begin with?

That’s a horrible, horrible question to pose to oneself. So amoral! V and I loved each other dearly and were best friends, and had absolutely everything in place to be life long companions. Except that I really, really, REALLY wanted other lovers and not just her.

Morality has and had nothing to do with my desires; they were there regardless of what morality says should or should not happen.

Did V “deserve” a man who would not have these feelings? I don’t think deserve enters into it either. She fell for me, just as girls are famous for doing; falling in love with the bad boy who “cheats” instead of the good boy who never would. That’s so common it’s a trope.

But what if she were hotter?

Well, I’ve dated hotter girls, very hot girls, and lived with them.

Usually for the first year I’m mostly satisfied with monogamy, with little urge to look around. Not out of moral duty, but simply fascination with the one girl. She holds all my interest.

Now my situation is a bit different than my past. I’m quite old, and you could say almost aged out of the marketplace, for the hot girls I’m so used to dating. My options are dwindling fast. It’s VERY difficult for me to replace a hot girl with another hot girl now.

And I have a new hot girlfriend, who wants to live with me as my mate.

I don’t feel the need any more to date other girls, like I always did with V. That’s so horrible and painful to admit. I really really wish that were not true. It’s terrible that it’s true. V was everything a girl should be. How could I possibly want more?

But I do; I want a hot girl who is small. And my new girlfriend is that. Exactly my type. Great sexual chemistry. Fucking perfect fit. She’s way hotter than I “deserve” if one only considers bodies. I’m not that attractive, and I’m old, and she is noticeably well above average in attractiveness, and young.

I’m not likely to do better to pair bond with, without getting someone very mentally damaged or impaired.

And every year that goes by makes it less likely.

Opportunity affects desire. Before I was always able to make sexual opportunities, because I’m quite experienced and skilled in both seduction and keeping girls around.

But that can’t last forever, without major improvements in cosmetic surgery.

So I really hope that I can be closer to what most people consider moral. Not just because I’m tired of breaking hearts all the time. But because I want to be happy for myself.

I don’t sleep around because I feel it’s the moral and right thing to do. It’s a very deep hard wired compulsion – one that if you don’t have you’d never be able to empathize with. My entire being is driven to fuck hot girls. It’s not a side job.

So now I have a hot girl that I’m fucking. For now I’m going to do just that, and hope for the best.

Update: I’ve been updating the post related to meeting J, and getting over V, daily.

https://xsplat.wordpress.com/2018/01/22/forced-against-my-will-to-replace-my-primary-and-the-usual-fast-bonding/

Here is an extract from today that is relevant to this post.

I realize that keeping this girl for the long haul is a different task than falling in love and having our honeymoon phase. It’s a common thought that younger girls will cheat on their much older husbands. As long as I remain interested, I think that I’m up to the challenge. I like to be constantly challenged with constant seduction; long term seduction is something I’m good at and have put a lot of thought and effort into.

There has been a great deal of emotional wreckage surrounding my life. V once told me that girls spirits can ruined. One girl turned to prostitution after having a serious nervous breakdown when she finally realized that she wanted me to stop seeing my second girlfriend, who at the time was M. Another seems to have sworn off men entirely, after in our relationship I wouldn’t stop seeing other girls, and didn’t want her to keep the baby. Another woman left her husband for me, and wound up single. She was 41 years old to my 30. I had counseled her to stop fucking me or she would fall deeply and uncontrollably in mutual love, but she would not listen. M had years of torment about not keeping me faithful and not marrying her, and is still not married. I could go on.

V is a strong woman who I have a great deal of respect for as a person. Her female agenda for strict monogamy is annoying, but also includes wisdom, and I think she can do well in her future. It took a lot of strength and courage to leave me, and she’s been working hard to put her life in good order. I really respect her, and like her, and always did.

So many broken hearts in my life. And mine has been broken so often. I keep telling myself that collateral damage is inevitable, and everybody – absolutely everybody who dates – causes and receives heartbreak. It’s built into the system, and we didn’t create the system.

But I’m looking forward to not being the “cause” of that in the immediate foreseeable future.

Forced, against my will, to replace my primary, and the usual fast bonding.

Wow, the sleeping dragon awakes! That was fast, and didn’t take much.

“Wow, you fuck me so good. I’ve never felt like that before.”, she said, touching her hand to her lower belly, with a slightly puzzled and inquisitive look, mixed with delight, wonder, and appreciation on her face.

I know, I know, maybe she says that to all the guys, right? Well, in our first session she was surprised that I was not “finishing”, and kinda wanted me to hurry up. Her last boyfriend would just pump away for 10 minutes and done.

I didn’t know her yet, and so the first time we met yesterday fucked her like a more experienced girl who was used to G-spot sex. My error.

The next day I gave her more attentive treatment, with a modest amount of foreplay, and clit and nipple attention throughout most of the fucking. And a few hours of listening to her and stroking and bonding with her before hand. That was all it took to light some fire. Then in the middle of the night she initiated the second round, being a squirmy wormy, grinding on me. Based on previous performances I mis-judged her stamina, and came before she was ready – a gigantic Daddy Loves You explosion that took every last drop of moisture out of my mojo, and she still kept grinding and grinding greedily on my still hard and rammed as deep as possible but unmoving dick.

She nearly begged for more, but I was fucking spent.

It seems that if there is going to be a stamina problem in this relationship, it might more likely be on my end rather than hers. We’ll see. I always enjoy a good sexual contest.

And I’m quickly falling in love with her, and her me. That was mate-bonding love sex. The kind where the girl starts to cry a bit – you know, that bitter sweet intense pleasure that is so soulful that it makes you cry. Slightly similar to crying during touching parts within a movie. Too bad we don’t have more refined words for the different types of crying.

Oh, and my kundalini seems to be waking up. It’s been years since that was on fire. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Maybe it’s just a one night thing. Or maybe my body is really, really into this girl.

Which for the first time ever makes me feel like it’s sex that would be detrimental to the bonds with V. Of course it’s a silly obsession to still think of her – she broke up with me and blocked contact. But V was hugely in love with me, and it still feels terrible to replace that pair bond. It was never my intention to have sex with others replace our primary bond. A nuance that she is not capable of understanding or caring about. But one that is kind of a big deal to me.

Which again reminds me of a way V is incompatible – her stubborn BPD insistance that in matters of her jealousy feelings, my feelings and intentions don’t exist or count; “I could not possibly really love her, if I also get close to other girls” is her exact stated thought. It’s still quite sad to me, and I still see her face sharply in my mind, very often.

Anyway, looks like this new girl and me will pair bond.  That thought includes sadness of moving on from the last pair bond.

Update:  Attentive long time readers may notice the hidden theme of this post.  The Easter Egg.

It is BECAUSE I’m the kind of guy who does grieve so long and hard for V that this new girl fucked me on the first date, wanted to move in on the first date, and had pair bonding tearful best in her life sex on her second date.

Well, that and that I’m quite experienced.

Once again, Alpha Fucks and Beta Bucks is so cartoonishly simplistic as to be more wrong than right.

Update: She outlasted me again this morning.  Later we snuggled in my recliner just hanging, and she recounted how useless her sexual past was.  I’ve heard this story so many times.  There are girls out there who’ve had plenty of sex who are still basically virgins.  She had been confused why all her friends said that sex was so great, when for her it was nothing.  Finally she meets a guy who knows how to fuck, and it’s a totally new dimension of reality opens up for her.  It’s not so much that I’m so great in bed, technically lately I can be rather lazy, but that most guys (and girls, frankly) can’t fuck.  It’s really a tragedy.  Can’t we teach sex ed properly in high school?

I also think that sex is quite a lot to do with very subtle emotional feedback.  We can tell when our lover gets aroused, and when we play that arousal in simpatico, and sustain it, you can create sexual music – each time different.

I have a VERY hard time getting dates.  Pretty well my whole life it’s been like this.  Almost impossible even just to get one date, with a girl I believe is a match that I deserve.  Two months of online dating just to finally get one date, even though I was willing to fly anywhere in the whole country. But once I’m alone in a room with someone, the date usually goes very well.  And after that we bond.  Girls quickly feel as if they’ve met their soul mate, or as if we’ve known each other for a long time, and been together as lovers already for a long time.  That’s just routine for me; first date, have better sex than she’s used to, bond, then I own her, and we take care of each other and become entwined in each others lives.

You can’t really capture character in a photo, and character can make beautiful faces ugly, and ugly faces beautiful. In person an unphotegenic man, or even woman, can be much more appealing. Or less.

So a lot about attraction is emotional.  Emotional openness.  Energetic fluency.  Emotional fluency.  I have a strong congruence of character of being loving and able to receive love.  It’s not a game or a magic seduction trick, it really is “just be yourself” game, only the self that I have been very careful to cultivate is a musical instrument that I know how to play.

Chi-kung, meditation, long history of many loving deep long term relationships.  My history is an open book in my character, and I’ve been as careful as I can be to keep that character positive, open, loving, sensual, and fun.  And who wouldn’t want that?  So first dates usually go quite well.

Update: Holy shit.  That was amazing.  No wonder my kundalini turned itself on, in anticipation of this chick.  On day three we had near kundalini level sex!  Holy fuck.  And I pressed and I believe her confirmation, this is all totally new to her.  Incredible how much was just lurking below the surface.

My experience is that MOST girls need to be at least a bit in love before they can open and start to give their best sex.  So for me, fast seduction and fast love go hand in hand, and I have absolutely zero interest in one night stands or prostitutes.  Good sex is simply completely different than mutual masturbation – an entirely different category – you can’t even call both things sex.

Update Jan 25: Wow. This is going better than I had even hoped. I had forgotten what it was even like to have kundalini sex, and that used to be my life, for decades. Unfortunately, I’m falling in love. I hate that! And I told her that I hate it. I told her to fall in love first, and that I’d just wait, and lover her only a little bit, until she’s crazy in love. Because I hate being in love! It’s fucking scary. I told her to hurry up and get pregnant so that she won’t run away. I told her that I don’t want her to know that I’m falling in love, because it’s a secret. I pushed her away physically and screamed “I don’t want to love you!” God damn it. It’s too vulnerable.

But I think she’s fucking georgous. From so many views. God, from behind, her vagina is like an extra add on thing – not just a space between her legs. A mound. Fucking georgeous pussy. And the waist to hip is out of this world, which is amazing because she has very small hips. So super slim waist.

I could go on and on.

And as often has been the case, it’s a shocking contrast in the mirror when we are side by side. She’s way the fuck out of my league. But also, she’s a definite type, that not all guys would be into. Skinny small. I’m thankful not all guys would see her the way I do. I think she’s fucking hot and amazing and gorgeous. I like just staring at her face. Or her lips. Or pretty well any part of her.

And we often make each other break out in belly laughs. I’ll laugh to tears with her, which is rare for me.

It’s kind of an amazing connection, pretty fast. Especially sexually; I told her that sexually it’s a good match for us both, because I’m waking her up and catching her on her upward curve, and she’s waking me up and catching me on my downward curve. I used to be a fucking sexual superstar; probably one of the top on the planet, honestly, in terms of number of hours of sex per day and extreme chi-kung kundalini energetic feeling and power. Now I’m less than 1/10th of what I used to be, but it’s still not bad, and a fair match for a girl on her way up, just starting. She’s doing great.

She has a pretty face, and that can be a bit intimidating, but she also is vulnerable and afraid, just like I am. And also fiery – hot fiery, passionate, humorous, penetrating eyes. I’ve seen her angry too. So she’s very attractive, but also vulnerable and attached, just like I am. I guess we might get married. At the least we are already a couple, and going more in that direction.

Looking at her pretty face and hot body reminded me of how many very beautiful girls I’ve dated over my life. M is a real hottie. I think N is too. I don’t even know the numbers, but there are well over 10 super stand out girls, out of about 80 that I’ve been involved with, and most of the rest I found quite attractive. And I still love some of the girls. All so different, beautiful in very different ways. Uniquely beautiful. The sex styles and connections unique to each. Our various ways we connect all unique. Some of whom I only had flings with, some who I bonded very deeply with.

She’s on the bed trying to get my attention now. I’m being called to do my manly duties.

Update: Stamina is definitely not a problem with this girl. Nor is the level of sexual intensity that she can rise to. This girl can take a LOT of voltage.

During one peak, as I was choking her, I said “say I love you!”
She answered with a stutter “I love..it.” Then 1/10th of a second later “I love, you” “I love you, I love you, I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!”

The electricity and joy that shot through me was too much, for me, at this point in our relationship. I could only handle maybe 10 seconds of it.

“This is a good time to stop”

What joyful nourishment. That woman is making a man out of me. Finally! I’m literally a new man now.

Hot girlfriend who loves me and is properly owned. Who I have powerful kundalini S&M loving bonding sex with, where we thrill and trill to new places each time, and become more bonded each time. Fuck ya. Every where I go I’m a new person – not a single guy, but a guy who has a (hot) woman making a man out of him.

I told her that now I have a reason to put more attention into getting healthy. She can handle everything I give. Strong woman. In fact, she keeps staring at me, so happy and loving, and teasing for more.

I plan to move her into a less expensive apartment, but in the mean time will move her in with me. Starting tomorrow.

We’ve both been carrying around with us a constant bitter sweet sorrow. I’m noticing that we both are becoming more at ease with shared pure joy.

.. Ok, and just now we shared tears of joy. She thanked God she met me, and with a huge smile, let out the water works. Lots of staring each other in the face, with big smiles. Makes me shy to be looked at like that, but damn.

This is day 4.

Ya, I probably am going to marry this one. I’m quite good at getting and seducing new girls. The long and routine history is of getting girls WAY out of my league. But I’m 52. I think the timing is right. She’s got what I’ve been looking for.

Which is a bit weird, when you consider that no long ago, after a ketamine trip seemed to show me the depth of my true being, I declared that I was not a family man, and could not marry, to my then mate.

I was totally honest then.

And I’m honest now.

I’m just a different person with the different girl. Which in it’s own way is a fucking horror show, because I really really loved and still do love V. Deeply. I’d keep them both as wives and give them both babies if I could.

But I can’t. So I’ll keep the one.

… I just told her that we will probably get married. She was surprised – “shocked”, she said, but agreed. Then asked if we’d have a baby. I said maybe.

This is the 2nd time this has happened to me in this phase of my life – falling for someone hot and quickly wanting to marry them and even talk of kids. Divine madness. Probably at some time later I’ll feel constrained and panicked again, I suppose. One day at a time then. If things don’t work out, then so be it. Fuck it. You only live once. These seem like the right waters to dive head first into.

Update Jan 26: Of course I’d wait a few years before marriage, if at all. Just found out that she has a history and family history of not doing well handling jealousy. And I know my history. So apparently I’m playing with fire with this one. I’m still way into her, but a betting man would bet on trouble down the line, as I don’t expect either of us to fundamentally change our natures.

I still think of V, but not on waking up.

The Kundalini sex is changing how I hold my body. It’s slowly coming back to me, fucking with a total lack of any urge to come, and instead just getting higher and higher. I love fucking this chick, and am turning on her sex drive enough to handle the frequency and duration, and to be able to quick start and use insertion as foreplay. Starting to be able to look her in they eyes during sex. She says that she would burst out laughing at the faces that I make, but can’t because she’s too high at the time, and besides her eyes are usually rolled up in her head, as are mine. Of course it’s always difficult to maintain eye contact when your eyes keep rolling up into the back of your head.

I’m of the opinion that it’s impossible for man or woman to have great sex without falling in love and bonding. That doesn’t equal monogamy, necessarily. But it usually does equal some very strong jealousies – uncontrollable emotions.

Which I routinely discount, in women. I have my agendas, and so ignore the incredible pain and inability to stop feeling what they feel, when jealous. I know what it’s like, I just don’t want to know it, or think about it, and so hand wave it away.

I fall in love on purpose, and get girls to fall in love on purpose, and then go right ahead, knowing full well the consequences, to make them insanely jealous.

And if I do that with this one, she has a good chance of being dangerous.

V too had a good chance of being dangerous; I kinda got out in the best possible way; her saying she was leaving because I would not have a baby. If it went down another way, she very well may have turned on me.

I have no urge for other girls right now (which is heartbreaking for N, who misses me and wants my time). I’m way infatuated with this one. I think she’s the most beautiful when her face is all flush and fuck-exhausted. Absolutely gorgeous. I’m less anxious that she’ll leave me and feel less urge to knock her up to lock her down, as she’s full blown in love now, and we are already hooked on each other, and coupled. It’s going to be a fuck fest for the foreseeable future, and I’m more than happy to give her my all; she captivates me. She also wakes up at night to fuck me, the little bitch. Third world problems.

She left at 10 am, after another round of sex, and will be out all day. I just woke up at 1 pm, and am horny, but can’t jerk off, as I’m back to the lifestyle mode of not coming, and recently my habits were to jerk off and come when too horny. I remember this lifestyle now, it’s all coming back. It wasn’t so long ago that M and I used to fuck at least 5 times a day. And then after that I had the 3 or 4 girls keeping me very busy. And of course all the years in the Phillipines, and Thailand, which I never talk about anymore – that was non-stop sexual arousal. And a girl I’ve never talked about on this blog – R – a girl I had for a few years starting at age 29 – we would also fuck as much as humanly possible – leaving only time to eat, sleep, and shit. Screaming at the top of my lungs kundalini sex with her, for years. Lots of public sex too.

I’m so very tired and sick all of the time now, because of my stomach, but the old ways are coming back, and even though I’m so tired, my body says that I need to fuck my lover now. I’m really into her; can’t get enough of her.

With M I never once had boring sex, and was always so in love with her, when fucking – year after year, 5 times a day, always great. If I was mining for gold in her pussy, I always found it, and never got tired of finding it.

So now this girl and I are finding our mutual addiction.

I wonder what the neighbors think of the sounds coming out of my apartment now? She sings pretty loud, and I’m starting to scream at the top of my lungs, into the pillow, more commonly instead of just in brief bursts.

They are used to some screaming. Girls are wired to want to make loud noises when they consider themselves to be fucked by the high level alpha monkey in the troup; “Listen to me! I’VE got HIM! I have high status, because I’ve got him and he’s mine!” So V wasn’t shy or quiet here, and neither now is J – but I think I’m starting to get louder, and there is more screaming in general. Ya, and J is getting noisier than I’ve had here.

.. N has been asking why I’ve been avoiding her, and I told her that I’ve been busy with a new girlfriend. She’s heartbroken, and doesn’t want to see my face now. I told her that I’m here for her in any way that she needs.

M viewed N as a home wrecker, and hates her with a fury. V also views N as the reason that we broke up, I’m sure. I can’t keep my hands off of N, even though very often we are so very incompatible. Great chemistry with her, and I love her body, and sometimes we still really love each other. Year after year. Even at the risk of losing other girls. Quite a mess sometimes. God what a body on N. I never get enough of it, ever. Never old. Hard to imagine not seeing her. We often still have very fresh romance. I’m really into her too – year after year. I like being bonded year after year, even as other loves come and go, and she has her flings and love affairs also. I like that stability. Chaotic stability.

I’m sure N feels the same way, and would see me again. An addiction like that to each other runs deep. I suggested that she get a new boyfriend as I’ll be pretty busy with my new girl. She knows how to have an open relationship, secretly.

Update Jan 28: Last night she tearfully sobbed and sobbed, during a very long extended sexual peak “I love you! Don’t ever leave me! I love you! Don’t ever leave me! I love you!” over and over and over for timeless many long minutes. It was literally the most beautiful event I’ve ever witnessed. Later I laughed and laughed wondering what the big family of neighbors were thinking; we can almost hear each other talk through the thin walls.

She could not get enough sex yesterday. I did my best to keep up, even taking an hour off for chi-kung to re-charge, and taking stints on the bottom, but eventually her outside pussy skin wore out, despite careful generous use of lube. I also laughed quite a bit about that – something similar to her kundalini is waking up, and the girl is now sexually supercharged.

I told her that she is a beautiful person. It’s not just her face, it’s her spirit. I really like her, and can do my best chi-kung and good piano improvising around her; we are great for each others spirit. I’m very happy. I told her “I’m happy with you”, and I have not said that since Kiki, and Kiki was the only other person in my life that I’ve ever said that to. Kiki used to tell me 20 times a day that she loved me, and I very often told her that I’m happy with her. It was the happiest year of my life, with her, before she died. I’m not happy alone, but I can be very happy with the right person, and such a connection has been very rare in my life, despite usually being in love, or at least lust. So we are both feeling lucky and grateful, and content. Happy to tears.

She remarked yesterday that she has more energy, and that her face looks more beautiful. It does. We’ve both been carrying a heavy load, and are replacing it with something we forgot was possible.

She’s really shining, and has that special rare look of a woman in love. I can’t think of anything more beautiful.

Sometimes a song related to loss will run through my head and remind me of the painful aching wound in my heart for the still fresh loss of V, and if in bed playing with J that will make my dick soft. Emotions can be symphonic fugues – it’s possible to feel love and loss at the same time. Bitter sweet.

N is feeling very heartbroken lately, because I’m serious with the new girl. We aren’t being sexual anymore. She was never able to stay faithful with me either, even during times when I didn’t have other girls, or were living together, and a few times abandoned me for others and would not see me, so I owe her no fidelity favors or even the honor of never leaving her if I get a new girl; which was often my rule in my non-monogamous life. I bear her no grudges or ill will for her sexual choices. She’s asked me to marry her countless times, and I know has born a torch for me through all our ups and downs. We were mostly good to each other, sexually. I wanted to always keep her in my life, sexually. But that could really fuck things up, and I’m not only tired of the drama and heartache all around, I want to maximize my chances with this girl.

I realize that keeping this girl for the long haul is a different task than falling in love and having our honeymoon phase. It’s a common thought that younger girls will cheat on their much older husbands. As long as I remain interested, I think that I’m up to the challenge. I like to be constantly challenged with constant seduction; long term seduction is something I’m good at and have put a lot of thought and effort into.

There has been a great deal of emotional wreckage surrounding my life. V once told me that girls spirits can ruined. One girl turned to prostitution after having a serious nervous breakdown when she finally realized that she wanted me to stop seeing my second girlfriend, who at the time was M. Another seems to have sworn off men entirely, after in our relationship I wouldn’t stop seeing other girls, and didn’t want her to keep the baby. Another woman left her husband for me, and wound up single. She was 41 years old to my 30. I had counseled her to stop fucking me or she would fall deeply and uncontrollably in mutual love, but she would not listen. M had years of torment about not keeping me faithful and not marrying her, and is still not married. I could go on. V is a strong woman who I have a great deal of respect for as a person. Her female agenda for strict monogamy is annoying, but also includes wisdom, and I think she can do well in her future. It took a lot of strength and courage to leave me, and she’s been working hard to put her life in good order. I really respect her, and like her, and always did.

So many broken hearts in my life. And mine has been broken so often. I keep telling myself that collateral damage is inevitable, and everybody – absolutely everybody who dates – causes and receives heartbreak. It’s built into the system, and we didn’t create the system.

But I’m looking forward to not being the “cause” of that in the immediate foreseeable future.

Update Jan 30:

My girlfriend (who in my head I call my wife) hosted a small party last night, and dragged me down to join the group her and three friends.  We shared some drinks and soon were laughing with near every sentence, and one guy kept saying that I was funny.  A bit difficult to do with the language barrier, but jokes can be kept simple, such as my girl saying “I’m need to go pee”, and I look at her tenderly and point to my mouth and say “pee in my mouth”.  Simple jokes, if delivered in quick succession, can have the group laughing and laughing.

I was impressed by how she handled herself being falling down drunk, and the quality of her friends.  She kept calling me her husband, which always makes my dick hard.  And the dick never lies.  She seems so very proud of me, and we are already so coupled, it’s quite touching, and you could see that her friends respected our mate choices.

Last night we were out grocery shopping, and after coming home I relayed to her my experience there.  I’d carefully examined the hottest girl I could find there, wondering what it was about her that made her seem so attractive to me.  “Ok, her ass in that skirt.  My girl has the same shape and size ass.  That’s cool.  Well, she’s a little too tall for my tastes, let’s see the face.  My girl has a cuter face.  I win the contest again!”  My girl really liked this story, even if checking out other girls made her a little squirmy.  I have a long habit of whenever I go out with a hot girlfriend to check around to see if she is the hottest in the restaurant, and if so declare to her loudly “I win the contest!”  Not she wins by being the hottest.  I win, by having the hottest girlfriend.

She was screeming at the top of her lungs during sex last night, in the same tonalities that I use when I’m feeling kundalini rise.  And she’s constantly sexually aroused now, wanting to fuck.  That means to me that her kundalini type energy has awoken.  When that happened to me as a young man I was horny all the time for decades.  It’s pretty difficult to keep up with her now, in fact I’ll admit it that it’s pretty well impossible.  Hard to get my work done too.  But fuck, I love hearing her scream.  Very romantic screaming too.  I need to record it, it’s something to be proud of.

Update February 14: She told me of a dream two nights ago, in which I was hugging her and she felt that she’d met her soul mate and was very happy.  Something like that.  I had one of those mixed up metaphorical dreams this morning.  She was in the dream, in a weird way – my computer bios was happy, and it was because of her.  The metaphor being that her effect was at a core and persistent level.

We fucked on a balcony a few nights ago.  We also sometimes joke about topics of jealousy.  Big contrast to V; V can be experimental in bed, but is too prudent to want to do public sex.  And topics of jealousy are no laughing matter to her.  Lots of belly laughs with this one.  We spend all of our time together, and very easily and happily.  It’s great.  I haven’t felt much urge to see other girls, but there are still options that have a long history of keeping me interested.  But I’m pretty happy with this girl; I suppose it should be interesting that people can get close very fast, but that’s common to a lot of peoples experience.

Today she called me her best friend.  That was touching.  We are really just very happy.  Really good fit.  I also of course like being adored, and she isn’t shy to gush and give puppy dog eyes and say “I love you” a lot.  Sometimes if a girl is just a bit uglier than I think I rate, that could actually bother me.  But this one is at a level of attratciveness I’m quite comfortable with.  I do want to own her, and love it that she loves me – makes it easier to actually be in love, which can kind of hurt.  Maybe it’s the terror part of being in love that can be physically painful, even when all is going well.  So the mutual being in love, with her giving all indications of at least matching my feelings, makes it less terrifying.

There is a reverse to getting over someone?!

At first part of me was relieved that she was breaking up with me. Something was wrong – I felt too much pressure.

Then the pain kicked in, then anger, then the slow steady burn of heartbreak. I’ve been expecting it to steadily diminish. It did, at first.

Then I caught wind that she was thinking of me, and somehow I caught hope that we had a chance.

She used to visit near every day, and would be so excited to show up at the door.

Jeesus, the first thought in the morning when I wake up is her. And the last thought before going to sleep. And a constant feeling in my heart that keeps working it’s way into words in my head. It’s two months already, and she’s had her heart rest period and is going out on dates. I’m nowhere near anything like her; I don’t need to be not into anyone else to be heavily invested in her as my mate. And I don’t get over people fast. If at all. I don’t really even understand what ex girlfriend means, frankly – other than girls who won’t fuck me anymore or die. We were mates, something she can’t comprehend if I also have eyes and any time whatsoever for anyone else.

She aimed her ass at me, and asked me to make her pregnant.

She said the reason she was breaking up with me was because she wanted a family. She even gave me a chance – wording it such that she wasn’t breaking up with me, but that she wanted a baby and family – leaving me the option to jump in and take that roll.

I wouldn’t mind the baby, and I’d be happy to have her as a mate for life, but she wants the baby under the condition of me not only appearing to be monogamous, but actually always being monogamous. I think that’s an absurd overly stringent condition. I can’t do it. I know I can’t. I don’t have that to offer, and I can’t offer something pretend – she’d find out or see through it and it wouldn’t work.

I kept my dignity during the breakup, but it was very uncomfortable, and I kept waiting for her emotions to die down so we could properly connect again, and maybe work out how to be in each others lives while she went ahead and sought what she wanted in her life. They never did, and we never did.

Very sensitive girl, with at least as much relationship OCD as I have.

I can’t change her. I can’t make her accepting of all of me.

And I can’t seem to get over her.

In my mind and heart she’s still my mate. Like already my wife, but not here currently.

She doesn’t see it that way. She ghosted me, because she thinks it’s the only way to be able to focus on someone new who can give her the life she is looking for. And because after she broke up the very same night I was in the bed of another girl, and she assumed it was an ongoing thing prior to the breakup.

Damn it.

I once had a girlfriend I was very dissatisfied with, as she was older than me, and so physically not my type. That was one of the biggest heartbreaks of my life; I missed her for two full years, and during those two years I was having extremely frequent fantastic sex.

Most guys who write on manosphere type blogs are not talking about long term relationships, and almost never about ones where the partners bond. We basically lived together, I took her viginity, we had three years, and were very comfortable and happy together. She was home.

There is no home now.

Nobody else makes me at home.

Other girls were just other girls. Not home.

Fuck.

This might take a while. God I hope not another two years.

Update: I’ve been taking baclofen to treat acid reflux for 5 days now, and it’s been helping, but unfortunately I’m going to have to stop as it makes me moody and sad. A known side effect. I think it would be unhelpful to my mood regardless of circumstances. It’s a muscle relaxant, and makes my mood lax too.

Update: A lot of what I offer is what I am; a person who loves to connect. I can’t be that guy with that to offer unless I grieve – it’s the only reset that can get me back to the place where I’m emotionally open and sensitive and have what I have to offer.

Otherwise I’ll be emotionally shallow. And that’s not my thing; not my hook; not my game. Not me, not my life.

There are positives and negatives to being emotional, but it’s definitely a baby, not bathwater. A major reason I was into V was how attached and emotional she was. It was also a major reason I resented her and wanted to pull away.

The baby can be fine tuned, but keep the baby.

In this vein I find that the diorama that has been created that is called red pill thought is now quite often more harmful than helpful. People craft a mental map, and compare their experiences and the experiences of others against the map, and if there are differences, proclaim that the experiences are wrong.

Instead of updating their map.

So they create a world, instead of describe one, and wind up actually inhabiting a diorama, instead of sharing real life in a real, complex, ever changing world.

Being quick to label everything as either alpha or beta, R or K, is using mental labels in such a way as to be more wrong than right. The world really isn’t like that. It’s very kindergarten level understanding. Very cartoonish.

Love isn’t a weakness, and neither is grief, nor is pair bonding beta, nor is it alpha to be an unmoving unemotional rock.

The artist is neither alpha, beta, or sigma. He is bravely present and creative, and out of that comes his undying panache. No excuses, no apologies.

I don’t believe in forever, but occasionally I take some nostalgic pleasure in the best times shared with all my girls:

and a few of the songs that V kept humming the weeks leading up to the breakup:

And one she had running through her head about a month later, that led to me regaining hope, and thereby increasing my heartbreak:

Three weeks later she now declares she’s in a new relationship, as I learned last night. I thought the lack of hope would help me move on, but if so, moving on is full body moody.

And we’ll end in a more upbeat, but still dusky tone:

Update: Yesterday’s theme was connecting with my emotions, listening to music, playing piano. A long walk on the beach, and the usual few hours spent hunting for new dates I’d be really into. This morning I woke up out of a dream in which I was talking to V about being together. On waking out of that reality hit me like a flood of rotting sardines. I hate waking up to that feeling of things being horribly wrong and depressing and anxiety causing. That’s unhealthy. Today I’m playing a tighter game with my mind; lots of body centered meditation, focusing not on any thoughts, but relaxing the places in chakras where there are emotional knots. Much less narrative today.

There is a meditative technique called tight and loose. That’s where you alternate between extremes of a very lax almost no controlling awareness discipline, to tightly labeling thoughts and constantly going back to following the breath, viewing thoughts as interuptions. So yesterday was loose day, and today is tight day.

And I’ve made some progress in lining up dates with girls who could really work for me, on the physical level at least.

This process is a bit of a surprise, as it was nearly entirely initiated by my own ambivalence. I could very easily have kept V. She gave me ample opportunity, after opportunity to claim her in a way that worked for her; monogamous marriage, after an extended passionate courtship in which she gave her all and best possible self to me and for me. And put up with loads of heartache giving me new chances. And I had even been thinking of moving on myself. I’ve had worse grief in my life, but I didn’t expect this much with her for so long. Not sure what lesson to take from that, other than perhaps try my best to find a girl I’d be less ambivalent towards and more able to offer what she wants longer term.

I suppose the other lesson is how much the companionate portion of relationships is a hook for me. It’s her friendship that and our comraderie that was a huge part of our coupling. The sex and her body was a big part of it, but this relationship was rare in how much of the value was friendship based. That was really nice to have, and I’m glad I got to experience that, with her. I’m rather nostalgic for it, but unfortunately, the brain is wired to erase all good memories and highlight the negative ones after a breakup, so for her she seems to have done that.

I deliberately re-wired my system to not follow that easy way out natural instinct. It’s been scientfically carefully studied how the memories get re-edited; I read it in an old psychology today magazine back when I was going through a divorce, nearly 30 years ago.

Sometimes, when infatuated enough, I actually do want to marry a girl and knock her up. V was half my age, fit and tight and shapely, good sexual match, and so I think by most peoples standards I was getting a good bargain overall with her. But somehow she didn’t put me over the edge with uncontrollable lust to want to immediately lock her down with a baby to secure her. Instead she had to slowly work her charms on me, and year after year get under my skin. Which she did, admirably and to great success.

In order to get the bargain of what I have grown accustomed to feeling deserving of, an attractive girl in her early twenties, I might have to offer what could be quite a stretch for me. We’ll see.

For self esteem reasons I think most guys would prefer to view themselves as better than the exe’s new beau. He’ll be better than me in a lot of ways, sharing more of her culture, and not being so ill; my illness always kept me from going out on the adventures that she wanted. I’m pretty sure she will be screening for a guy dedicated to marriage and babies, upfront, and my guess is such a guy won’t be as agressive in bed as she very strongly prefers. Plus the average penis size of Koreans is not even 4 inches long. And mine is noticeably above average in length. All girls I’ve ever asked, when going from a great sex to a great security relatonship could not be induced to complain; they seem to somehow forget that they ever had those needs. Except for one girl who would tell me at every opportunity that she missed the size of my cock. She said her new guy was a way better lover for her, but it was my dick itself she missed. For V, my guess is, she’ll take a big hit in the area of life that’s been my biggest concern. Cruel and petty of me to wish her anything but utmost happiness, I know, but I suspect it’s a 99% common pettiness.

I’ve got an average sized penis. For a Congolese.

Famous true story joke “Why is a young hottie like you with that ugly old man?” “Because he’s rich and has a big dick.”

Ethics matching your core

Rambling diary post of icky personal goo. Not a self help post, or a how to. An explanation of a current identity crisis.

I’ve been watching Bombard’s youtube channel of body language analysis. I started off with the Russel Brand analysis, and just kept going. Soon I came upon this:

which shows Joe Biden being creepy. Sorry – it’s not only a shame word used by girls against low value men hitting on them – it’s a real thing. See if you don’t agree.

Bombard doesn’t hide her beliefs during her commentaries. During one she explains that those with a core morality related to a higher power can display a greater solidity of confidence.

I translated her idea into one with more meaning to me, and was reminded of recently coming off a strong medicinal Ketamine trip, realizing that I do identify with strong core beliefs – or rather a strong core identity, of being essentially love.

I think the higher power idea of her’s is superfluous, and once that’s removed her idea remains, even stronger.

Feeling that core identity is not a woosy temporary feeling brought on by moods or events or hormones; it’s a core idendity.

And yet, sometimes I’ve found myself, somewhat to my surprise, looking a lover in the face, and responding repeatedly with a flat faced lie, when asked if I was seeing any other girls.

It’s been explained to me, and I’ve seen first hand, that infidelity can lead to great anguish. I’ve felt it myself sometimes too.

Recently I’ve had to try to figure this all out. It’s a type of quandary that is cognitive dissonance, which really needs to be sorted out. While trying to figure out how I can flat faced lie to women that I love, and fuck around despite their protestations, I wrote this:

Competing interests means that relationships by nature are inherently flawed and partial. There is no conception or accurate mental map of a healthy working relationship where everyones needs are largely met in an ongoing way, because that situation does not happen to human beings.

We want from others what they can not provide out of their own free will and desire, long term. And we resent the impositions of the wants of others.

That’s the world we are incarnated into, choicelessly.

I think the statements are true, and somewhat insightful, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that this was an Adams Family morbid take on the facts. There MUST be a better way to spin the facts, into something workable! MUST BE!

What a horrible quandary, if it were true that all at once:
1) I have a core basic identity of love
2) Also have a core basic identity of being an individual who can’t compromise on wanting non-monogamy sometimes, and can’t know when I’ll want that.
3) That this will cause pain to those that I love.

What a mess!

I tried to resolve it by remembering how non-monogamy worked very well with Kiki, and realizing the details required by me for a mate.

To continue with the problem solving;

The body language vids remind of how much better it feels to be honest. And according to Bombard, people can tell when you’re lying anyway.

Actually, in my defence, it must be said that most of the fundamentals that I’ve said on this blog, I’ve also said to everyone I’ve ever dated. I’ve explained my personality and sexual philosophies in unabashed explicit detail more than once to V. She’s also found evidence of me being with girls, and broken up with me about it not once, not twice, but three times. And with most other girls if I did not want to have a discussion about painful truths, I’d remain silent, and not be forced into the corner of a lie.

It came to pass that in order to be with her, I had two choices. Stop seeing other girls, or lie. So at first I lied. Then I tried to stop seeing other girls, but that did not fix the problem. That actually could be the subject of many more posts; that’s a big deal.

So I TRIED to have an honest relationship, and I TRIED to be explicit and show every last square inch of my real self to her.

On her part, being in love, she was compelled to be with me, if at all possible, and me making repeated promises to reform was enough. For a while. Until the REAL problem started to become more obvious; being faithful is NOT the cure; it’s only an ACTION.

I started with the Biden video, to point out that there is such a thing as innappropriate behaviour, and that my quote about how it’s all a dog eat dog world anyway is no excuse for overstepping boundaries.

And yet…

Seduction includes overstepping boundaries, and then stepping back waiting for her to lean in, over and over. Sometimes people don’t really know what’s best for them at first, and will later thank tough-love. Girls will complain about the bad boy, but constantly go back to him and give the good boys their tears on shoulders. And so forth. No black and white.

But lying to a girl who has carefully explained that she’ll be traumatized and heartbroken if you cheat…

I’m trying to wrap my head around it. I don’t really feel guilty – somehow my belief system has allowed for that.

But my belief system is also somewhat at odds with my core.

I don’t even really know how I’m going to sort this out.

I did try the honesty route at first, but it led to a break up with a girl I’m really into and rely on and who is not easy to replace.

And on her part of course she was trying to manipulate me into unspeakable unhappiness (litterally monogamy is a hell that can’t be spoken of), so it was a type of type of war of love, where there will be winners and losers, if together. And loses for both if apart. There was no win-win situation there.

Ya, I’m just going to have to leave it at that. I can’t remember ever writing a blog post out where I didn’t already have a crystalized answer.

The answer to this one might take a while.

3 comments about the Trait openness – required in a mate

These are unedited rough comments. It would take much effort to polish them up into a post, and frankly I feel they are only for a very select elite audience, who could probably take value from them as they are:

—————-

A very related post to your comment:

https://freedomandfulfilment.com/psychedelics-personality-traits-values-research/

It reminds us of the research that showed that shrooms increase the personality trait of openness to new experience.

That personality trait is the one that I pointed out that I probably need in order to have a proper relationship with a girl.

It’s something I hadn’t much thought of before, other than as an appreciation when I see it.

But ya, it’s basically impossible for me to be serious with someone who does not score highly on openness.

I like my blowjobs in the Taxi cab, thank you very much.

Low openness is also correlated with having ideas set in stone – something that disgusts me.

If someone is totally anti-drug, it means they are basically anti discovery.

You know, I can still enjoy their company. But a serious lifetime deep pair-bond?

Completely out of the question.

Yes, many of us do score highly in the openness category, and view those who don’t as, quite simply, zombies.

Not alive.

People who breathe but don’t really fully exist. They aren’t actually really here.

They are in their security. That unchanging place that they “know” about.

Zombies, who rely on people like me (and the other cultural creatives) for brains.

***
“Drugs are bad, Mkay”. Zombie.

I haven’t dated a girl lately who would have willingly done that ketamine trip, or who would not have totally completely freaked out during it.

They would be HUGELY frightened of it, and see absolutely no value in it at all.

Zoooommmmmmmbbbbbiiiieeeeees.

————–
In summary:
1) I like small girls, and it’s not something I can diminish. If I want to be serious long term with someone, they had damn well better be my physical match, because when the going gets rough, and it always does, you need the base physical attraction as the consistent relationship glue. A girl can be perfectly sexy, and just slightly bigger than my type, and it makes a difference. I like small. A LOT. I can have an entire many year relationship based on little more than that the girl is small and has great tits, or hips, or face, or some feature that also makes me hard just to look at her. Oh, smell is also important, but it’s not something I can describe. There are a few smells that scream out to my brain that this girl is THE ONE. Two girls had that incredibly strongly. Kiki strongly. One girl smelled very wrong.

Most smell fine, but I don’t pay much attention to it. On our first date the reason I was so into N17 was exactly her smell. Drove me into a swoon. Of course physically she was also quite my type, even with her permanently adolescent firm little titties.

Physical things like that makes a huge difference to me, like it or not. It’s choiceless. They aren’t just icing on the cake of companionship.

I can’t call either the body nor the personality the cake, or the icing – but I know one thing for sure – the body is more than just icing.

Couples PHYSICALLY pair bond. There is literal chemistry involved, and even if they completly hate each other, if there is a strong physical chemistry, they can be nailed together like ardox spiral spikes into hardwood.

Great companionate pair bonding is great companionate pair bonding. Great. But a different thing.

2) openness to experience is a trait that without, I simply can’t respect a girl or take her seriously. I’ll always feel as if I’m humoring a child, with everything I say. And that no matter what I say, it will never get through the barriers of fear to actually be heard. Exactly like talking to a religious fanatic about science, or anything. No matter how “smart” they are, without strong openness to experience, I’ll consider them fundamentally broken and stupid. Caring about ALL the wrong things, for ALL the wrong reasons. Social puppets – worrying about what OTHER people think, and scared little mice, forever scurrying away from any pain or discomfort or novelty.

Openness to experience girl:
“I know it might not last forever, but I love him”

Low openness to experience girl:
“I’m afraid he’ll eventually break my heart, so I better call it off now”.

*************

Renfrew said:

Actually, he has a good essay online about jealousy. Let me find it….

Here (jealousy in practice):
https://www.morethantwo.com/jealousypractice.html

And here (jealousy in theory):
https://www.morethantwo.com/jealousytheory.html

Interesting articles.

I used to read up on everything that I could get my hands on regarding non-monogamy when I first started experimenting with it back in 2004.

It’s not a new field, of course, so there was plenty of good material to learn from.

Interesting points about wanting people who already “just get it”, and how this probably means that they are already long practiced relationship geeks.

I always find myself bringing up Kiki. When people say that sluts can’t bond, I bring up Kiki – a girl who had had hundreds of cocks, but who bonded more and treated me better than any other girl before or since.

I don’t think that exceptions prove the rule. I think that exceptions disprove the rule.

Obviously.

A girl like Kiki forces us to totally re-write what the rules are. It’s like one small signal in a radio telescope forcing physicists to rewrite what are the underlying forces of reality.

It makes no difference how MANY signals there are.

Girls don’t lose the ability to bond based on numbers; they lose the ability to bond with people who are less attractive and compelling than the best mate that they’ve ever had in the past.

Totally different.

The same data can be interpreted both ways, UNLESS you include the so called “exceptions to the rule”.

Usually people who say that exceptions prove the rule are simply saying “Nothing that you could possibly say will change my fixed opinion. So there.”

I don’t think she’d ever heard of the term polyamory.

And it’s kind of true that I want a girl who already just get’s it. But that’s not quite right.

The guy who wrote the articles you referenced says that communication is essential to good relationships.

In my relationship with V I absolutely refused all relationship talk. “I want to HAVE a relationship, not talk about one.”

I had to do that, because talking with her was completely counter productive. “Talking about insecurity only makes it WORSE. Not better. Worse!”

Because for her, it did.

You’d need not only a well developed rationality, but also an INTEGRATED rationality.

Very few people have a well developed rationality. V’s rationality is middling.

Usually what happens is that people can be rational exactly up to the boundary where their emotions start. Then rationality COMPLETELY and UTTERLY breaks down. And is not sought for, as if it’s a rock in stormy seas, but very actively sought against, as if it’s the stormy seas bashing against a rock.

With such people, it’s completely backwards to say that open discussion is essential to a healthy relationship. Open discussion will DESTROY the relationship!

But for Openness people, it’s not even a matter of trying to re-arrange their memes, or to get their memes and emotions to be able to speak nicely without shouting at each other.

Kiki already had emotions that took delight in her partners delight, and she felt extremely fulfilled and extremely bonded. Safely and securely so.

No discussion or training was required, not because she was a poly expert. Not any sort of relationship geek.

She was just extremely open to new experiences, extremely sexual, extremely romantic, etc. Her emotions were already there – no long journey of intellectual and self exploration or training required.

And if she had required some explorations, from what I could see, she’d not have had huge earthquake upheavals of memes vs emotions, rationality vs primal instincts. She’d lean in with her heart – then find security using that organ of perception.

V couldn’t do that, because her fear and her heart never got distinguished from each other. She thinks that they are the same thing.

Kiki was simply less afraid, and so didn’t have to tease apart what was merely fear, and what was an accurate perception of her heart.

Which I suppose is why I recently commented that being very high on Openness is crucial, for me, to have a healthy bonded relationship with someone.

It doesn’t really matter how smart or relationship geeky someone is, if they don’t score high in openness, because their fear will always over-whelm their rationality.

I think that guy was WAY WAY WAY too optimistic about peoples ability to change.

Fix the fridge? Really? In what universe is THAT ever going to happen! People don’t actually do any sort of psychological change – even with very expensive therapy and very hard trying. Not really. A VERY VERY VERY few, very motivated people do. But not people people.

HE could change. That’s extremely unusual, and yes, relationship geeky.

Not everyone needs or can do that integration of rationality with instinct. Some people can work using the emotions themselves, and get to a better place.

Doing that requires, and is perhaps even the definition of, the personality trait of openness to new experiences.

It’s exploring, with curiosity, as a purpose in and of itself. Deliberate groundlessness, as an essence of what is important, as if it were Truth, or Love, or Beauty itself.

It is that personality trait, not an intellectual and rigorous personality restructuring, that is pragmatic and actually happens, realistically.

I think his viewpoint is really just a diary and wishful thinking.

It’s like saying, “Enlightenment is possible, and this is how I got Enlightened, and you can too”.

Cha, right! Gigantic Buddhist communities, thousands and thousands of people every year doing their damned best, learning by example, reading, meditating. What percentage actually reach the same level, or anything nearly remotely close to the same level, as the authentic teachers?

Yes, it’s nearly trivial to point out that jealousy is insecurity. Big fat woop-ti-do deal. Twelve insights like that still won’t buy a cup of coffee. Won’t change a flat tire. Won’t DO anything.

Not very far off from getting stoned and being all wowed out that we might very well be living inside a simulation. Wow! Far out! Nothing changes.

In fact that type of self help advice can be dangerous, because it’s all totally true, and seems so attainable. Ya, for yourself, maybe it could be. But for OTHERS? Fat chance. Very fat.

And his articles read like couples counseling, to one half of the couple. There is an unspoken expectation that both in the couple will want to and be able to do this; because if not then of course the advice is nothing other than accurate. Uselessly accurate. Big deal.

When I was a teenager, I used to very regularly try to get lost. Very deliberately ignore every fence.

I considered it a very important meditation – a way to restructure my personality.

I didn’t know exactly why I felt so strongly that this was an important thing to do – but I instinctually realized that this was a completely crucial action in order to develop and mature into a proper human.

When V once got a little bit lost driving her car back from a distant beach, she was in a gigantic full body panic.

I, of course, quite enjoyed it.

I love being lost. So much so that I don’t even think that there even really is such a thing as being lost. There is just temporarily being disoriented, which is quite a fun adventure.

My whole personality really WAS properly changed, by those teenage walks. It really WAS crucial personal self development.

I had that as a core, instinctual, fundamental personal value. I didn’t know why I had it. Same like I don’t know why I value Truth more than others do.

I just do.

I need people who just get THAT.

Not non-monogamy.

That.

*******************

When I was that teenager, hopping over fences into restricted industrial and private areas, going for very long walks by myself, all of my friends and aquaintances thought that I was nuts. Even the more adventurous among them could not tune into the notion that this was a type of full bodied meditation. In fact I don’t think any of my friends really had any understanding of what meditation was about at all.

So in terms of openness, I was a top, deliberately spinning itself faster.

I was ALREADY a spinning top, in a world of blocks and rectangles and triangles.

On top of that I was doing self hypnosis by age 12, daily meditation by age 16, LSD and mushrooms by age 17. And every lsd trip was a mystical experience.

Then by age 21 I was living full time in a Buddhist monastery, when not on long 8 or 11 week unsupervised solitary meditation retreats deep in forests where no human came close. I have first hand experience of Enlightenments detailed explicitly in Buddhist texts, and not for the span of a Samadhi, but for spans of days, weeks, and once months. Then by my mid twenties I’d started up a strong Chi-Kung practice, to develop on the spontaneous kundalini and kundalini sex that started at age 22, that had my spine constantly ablaze.

They say that shrooms increases the openness trait, but ONLY to those who have mystical experiences with them.

Every time I’ve done LSD or Shrooms in a group I’ve always been completely astounded at the fucking buffoonery.

Why aren’t these people even REMOTELY like me? Where are their mystical experiences?

I had a group of interns out here a few years ago, all in my villa in Bali one night, and I went out and risked the danger of purchasing loads of shrooms, drove back carrying, and treated them all. I took twice as high a dose as anyone else.

They wound up all screaming like lunatics, at the amazing things crawling around in the bushes. At how their toothbrush was moving. Screaming at the top of their lungs all night long. A total waste of a trip, and it disturbed the neighbors.

I just left them alone, went to my room and had quiet time with my girlfriend. Played piano a bit. Enjoyed her company. To her I was not acting at all strange. Occasionally I’d go out and say hi to my buddies, and they were amazed that I was acting all normal and hi-how-do-you-do.

I haven’t done shrooms in years, so I doubt it was a tolerance thing, exactly. I think I just have a tolerance for being in mentally and physically different universes.

When I see people screaming at the bushes, bonding as bros over shared hallucinations, and saying WOW over and over and over, I think to myself “You fools. That’s not what shrooms are FOR!”

Trips like that, according to the literature, won’t have the hugely valuable effect of increasing their trait of Openness.

They just totally wasted it. And shrooms, I believe, are damaging. You don’t want to do them often. Use each trip well – it’s not free.

Back to Kiki – the outlier girl with the incredibly high openness to experience.

Probably a huge reason why she fell so hard in love with me is because I’m also an extreme outlier, and she could go through several lifetimes without meeting anyone else like me.

After the literal hundreds of cocks, she found one cock in a haystack different than the rest. That made me REALLY special. Way more special than if she had been a virgin bonding for the first time. I was more than her first; I was her last. She wanted to die with me and have every possible eternity with me. I was it ; she’d found IT.

At 16 or so I was walking alone through forests at midnight and oil refineries at 5am, but at 13 she was at airports picking up tricks.

Talk about openness to experience! Can you imagine!

Most people would think both of us totally off of our rockers. I’ve got to give the girl credit though. When I was 13 through 15 my libido was off the charts – I had to masturbate in the changing rooms when clothes shopping – and at every possible opportunity. I had to take whole days off of school to masturbate all day long.

Kiki was a match for that, and she went trolling for adults at airports. Genius. And the BALLS it must have taken! I mean, who does that?

I haven’t seen any 13 year old girls trolling the airport lately.

Those years are very formative, and she was a spinning top, spinning herself faster.

By the time we’d met, she was 26 and had a good well paying full time career, advancing on her merits. She was bright and very sociable. I put her to work on my own tasks, and she was very capable – more so than any girl I’ve dated since, especially in that she took joy in her work – in OUR work.

She quit that career the day of meeting me. She simply visited me for one date, and never left my apartment.

Why would she? Of course she stayed. She’d found her cock in a haystack. I was a HUGE difference than the others. And she simply fit me like a glove. All easy peasy natural, no effort.

Two spinning tops, spinning each other now. The antics we used to get up to! Hillarious.

Blow jobs in every taxi ride, kinky sex on the roof, her titties hanging over the balcony for the security guards to see (and gossip about), fingerings at all food joints. A favorite game was the wide swing Hollywood slap to her face in crowded restaurants. We were a menace to polite society, as if it was our duty to that society.

And it WAS our duty. Shake up all the squares.

Spin the blocks. See if anyone could come close, just for 5 seconds, to enter the world of one of the spinning tops.

hahaha. Almost never.

We were the only tops out there.

Social and romantic expectations are insidious infections of the Borg

I had a great day at the beach today.

I just lay there, enjoying a fantastic parade of eye candy, with a 22 year old hottie who loves me curled up against me, holding my stiff dick.

Krauser blew off Bali too casually. Today was an incredible day for tourist girls on the beach.

I was content, and immersed.

And it hit me hard what a gigantic juxtaposition this was from being out with V.

The last time I was out on the beach with V, she got hugely insecure about my wandering eyes, questioned me repeatedly and in detail about them, and I was forced into a long tirade about how a man is a man and of course I want to fuck other girls, and she would not even be into me if I didn’t. And that not only do I like looking at the fuckable, but get pleasure from looking at children. Couples. People I want to fuck, and people I don’t. People.

Every question she posed was merely a probe to confirm her suspicions, no answer I gave was the “correct” one. What a fucked up day that was – one written into the books as “do not repeat”.

I never once took her out again after that. Must have been at least 4 months ago. And I never told her why I didn’t take her out. I’d send her pictures of me at the beach alone, and she’d get so jealous that I’d go there by myself! I just knew if I took out in public again it would be a constant unspoken battle of wills, her trying to guilt trip me into keeping my gaze rigidly not looking at exactly what I wanted to look at.

Humans are social, and we become the Borg, even when we very consciously try our damnedest to retain our individuality.

Her expectations of me, her guilt tripping me into being “respectful” had an imprisoning effect on me that was unavoidable. Respectful=”Think of me, not yourself. YOU are being selfish for not following MY selfish orders to think of my feelings first like I tell you to”.

It was a full day long sigh of relief to be free of that that constant mind-fuck guilt trip that somehow had managed to infect me like an STD that snuck past the condom. To be ME again!

So many beautiful girls to look at. What a delightful day. And such a hottie little girl right beside me – easily a match for just about any girl on the beach.

I once dated an 8 teenager beauty queen who threw this shit-test at me over Whatsapp one day “And since you are so into my hotness, it would mean that you wouldn’t want to fuck around”.

She was 17, but like many super hot girls had insights into the sexual marketplace that guys in their mid forties are only just cluing into. She knew her statement was pure bullshit. It was a shit test – a compliance test. A test to see if I’d say “Myes Dear!”. To see how weak willed I was against the immense Borgifying power of her hotness.

I’ve laughed out loud right in girls faces before when they said the same to me. How absurd! Hahaha! No matter how super hot the girl is, no matter how many times you’ve had universe destroying sex, no matter how in love and bonded, of COURSE fucking other girls would ALSO be great!

Perfect decompression from all that noise today. A hot girl, holding my dick, my eyes enjoying other hot girls, warmth and contentment and love oozing out of me and into the receptive girl whose presence kept me hard all day. Beautiful weather, lovely day. All was right with the world.

And I healed myself from being Borgified.

My eyes took pleasure, naturally, as they SHOULD.

Any girl who gets freaked out by that should not be brought to the beach, plain and simple.

Not brought out in public at all, really. Who needs the guilt trip? It’s a mind fuck that erodes a man’s soul. Really – it is.

The Ketamines

I’ve been doing ketamine as a crohn’s treatment, which is but one of many of it’s flavors of off label uses.

It is also useful to treat:
Post traumatic stress disorder
Severe depression (immediate results)
Neuropathic pain – which I think is a special type of pain where your nerves fuck up and send hurt signals when they may as well just calm down.
Opiate addiction

The day V broke up with me I told her that I’d most likely be fine because I was doing ketamine, and that should make it so that I can’t get depressed.

It’s about right.

I should have got my hands on some when Kiki died.

The trips it can give are weird enough that a guy could try to lay the blame on spritual experiences, however like Ibogaine, Ketamine cures Opiate addiction not through cognitive idea re-arrangment quite so much as through some sort of reset button.

Which begs a big question – what are our pre-sets? That would be cool if our presets were healthy. Ketamine seems to think so.

The dose before the one I’m coming off of now was two syringes – 2 ml = 100 mg. I had planned on injecting 150 mg, but after the 2nd syringe was not up to the task of coordinating a third injection. Good thing too – it was my 2nd 100 mg trip, but it took me a bit farther out, and it just got stupid weird – of course the world dissapeared into a hallucination, but the identity and all memories also hallucinated or wobbled away, so it was silly groundless.

I told myself that I was breathing, and most likely in a safe position, before things got even weirder and even those thoughts would have not fit into the new ketamine universe.

The dose I did 50 minutes ago was 3/4 of a syringe, so there was only a brief period where I could no longer play the piano, and the world stayed with me the whole time, as did my identity.

The larger doses I suppose could qualify as some kind of near death experience, which have been shown to cause long term positive personality changes, so there is probably also some pure psychological experiential benefit. But I’m still laying my money down on betting the drugs long term mental effects happen for physical rather than meme organizing reasons.

It’s not a euphoriant. Is that a word? It doesn’t make you feel warm and fuzzy and happy. The antidepressant effect is long term and immediate or stronger after a few more sessions, but the trip itself doesn’t provide a glow like beer or exstacy.

I’m not a fan of heartbreak – I just don’t use it as an excuse to avoid intimacy, because I think intimacy is the bread of life. I’m thinking K could be valuable to use to treat grief, along with it’s clinically proven usefulness to depression.

Blogging plus ketamine plus sex plus meeting new people plus the positive waves of previous positive waves of karma seem to sure have cut down the usual grieving process.

I don’t think I could recommend a heavy ketamine trip to anyone – it’s weird weird weird. But I suspect it’s a healthy and good for you thing to take, from time to time, especially for those who are out of whack.

My research has shown that it’s mostly safe. So for anyone depressed, benefits most likely would outwheigh negatives.

Treatments are usually from two to six times, and doses vary hugely – it’s studied a lot, but understudied still.

I’ve found ketamine to be a mild stimulant, and due to the total freakazoid places it takes you to, it’s best if buffered with an anti anxiety such as diazepam. Much much best. Most doctors agree.

I have found myself to me more mellow coming off of a trip. The comment I wrote realizing that I had been spinning reality into an Adams Family rerun and choosing a brighter more optimistic spin was directly after a 1 syringe dose (enough to make the bed dissapear for a short time)

I’m told the effects are not like other drugs – for depression, neuropathic pain, and others the effects can be long lasting. So maybe I’ll be more mellow yellow for a while. I’d call that good.

We are all a little bit BPD, but that’s not my business.

Mike said:

If you want to chew on something worthwhile, figure out what it is about yourself, that makes you feel responsible for this person and their emotions and/or future. You’ll fall right back into this situation with her or someone just like her if you don’t confront the part of yourself that takes on this burden.

 

Good point.

I think that the way that I handled the lengthy whatsapp messaging incident is as clear a signal as can be about the healthiness of my boundaries, and exactly how much responsibility I take for another persons emotions.

I was even willing to let her seek out a new lover at that time while she was texting, if that is what worked for her. She’s an adult, and I’m not an acting babysitter, nor do I play one in real life.

Here is what happened just before the phone incident:

She’d somehow picked up this habit of of saying “Daddy come here”, when I was otherwise engaged in work or other interests. I had to make light of it by coming up and pulling on her Barbie string and have her say “Daddy come here” whenever I pulled the string. She’d be lying on the bed and I’d be standing up, facing her, giving her full attention and talking to her, and she’d still say “Daddy come here”.

“I AM here! I’m right here!”

She’d miss me even when I was right there.

She was getting really clingy, and insecure, and I just did not want to have to babysit that insecurity.

So there I was standing up, joking and refusing to cuddle (she was not seeking sex), and she crawled off of the bed and I instinctively backed away, hands up in front of me making an invisible barrier. I’d back away a few inches, and she’d crawl forward more, until finally I let her get all the way close, and she started clinging onto my legs, naked, wimpering a bit.

So I got on the bed with her and the next thing I know I’m telling her the story of how when I was a child me and my brother used to play The Blob game. I described the movie The Blob, and how an alien goo landed on earth in an asteroid impact, and how a teenager touched it, and how a small blob of goo slowly ate his hand, until the next day his friends visited him to discover all that was left was a gloobing pulsating mass of Blob. Which eventually ate most of his friends, and later grew to wallow down main street, eating up buildings.

So my brothers and I would hide under a blanket, slowly crawl up to the victim, then rear and and scream “BLOB!” and engulf the other person in the blanket.

I accidentally hit her face as I engulfed her, and she took that as a sign of deliberate hurtful indifference towards her – “you play too rough!”.  Again confusing her own feelings with reality – and deliberately and obtusely refusing to differentiate between the two. Then she started actually crying like a little child, in pain – for way longer than any physical pain could have been causing her anguish.

Trying to justify her overblown reaction and contention that I play too rough, she gave the example of how a few times I’d patted her on the back, with the exact same force that a parent burps a child. Everyone else I’ve done that to has found it very comforting.

I tried to laugh it off and demonstrate that this is the exact pressure applied to babies, and explain that she is not made of flower petals.

“Ow! That hurts!”

Psychosomatic pain is real, sure, but get a fucking grip man. There is such a thing as over-reacting, and the fact that your emotions are sending you signals out of touch with what is happening in the real world does not mean that the real world is wrong. It means you are out of touch with reality. That is NOT an excuse to complain about unfair treatment! Actual crying, like an actual child – regression to a child like state, in order to curry attention and favorable treatment.

I. just. was. not. into it. I did not buy her narrative for one second. No extra sympathy points for you girl.

Back to the Blob. Apparently my subconscious had made some association between her, clinging at my feet, and the Blob.

Ya, she was trying to eat up my free will, my life force, my future, and put every last one of my balls into her purse for safe keeping.

I was guilty of leading her on. At first I really wasn’t quite sure if our thing would lead to kids, but after I realized no, I still led her on, and took a hit to my lifestyle as a trade off. It was mostly working out, I thought. Until I started to get resentful at her showing up at my door. That wasn’t so good.

She refused to announce herself as standard girl ploy. If I never know when she’ll arrive it’s more difficult to arrange a private schedule. She was slowly trying to tame my balls, boiling the frog. That actually works for a lot of guys.

But for some of us it’s really a hopeless lost cause.

As Blackdragon says, Alpha guys WILL cheat, sooner or later. It’s not even their choice. They WILL cheat, and they WILL get caught.

I was trying the Alpha 1.0 relationship game – and got caught and broken up with enough times that the next step was to actually try to play by the stated rules.

Of course many guys can play by those rules, and will never be able to empathize. Some guys don’t have the option to play by those rules. We simply can’t. If we try, everything gets out of whack, and no one is happy.

I wasn’t even fucking her every day anymore, and we started to have a few mediocre sex sessions. And I didn’t even care. My health isn’t great, but getting soft with her on top is still not a great relationship sign.

That would not happen if I were playing by my own rules. My own system works great – I get sexually supercharged, am very attentive, never neglectful. I’m simply a better man, better person, better lover, give more, and on and on, if someone can accommodate me being me without trying to keep my balls in their their fucking purse.

The more she needed reassurance the more I wanted to pull away.

This is a long rambling diary post.  I’m not going to bother to edit it.  It’s not thoughtful, well crafted or organized.

We had been playing house since February.  Every spare moment she’d visit me, take care of me, hang around while I worked, make love with me or fuck me wild.

We’d been dating off and on for three years.  I’d been caught out being unfaithful three times, and after much thought decided to try being monogomous.  There was a background understanding that marriage and babies was a direction we could be heading in.

A bit to my surprise I found that even though I loved her, something core and essential about me could not change.  I valued my freedom as my life, and started to resent her showing up unannounced.  Once she was here, I liked it, but just that my free will was taken away by our social agreement frustrated me, and I was starting to resent her love as much as I appreciated it.

I also didn’t like how I had to bury and hide so much of my character – so much of my reason for living, what I find fundamentally important and real – my real me.  I had to bury and hide and never let get close to the surface that yes, I want to fuck other young pretty girls.

I couldn’t even try to inject a little space of a giggle about it.  “Can you help me send money to China?”  “What’s it for this time?”  “Oh, it’s for my girlfriend there.  But don’t worry, I haven’t seen her in years.”

That attempt at levity sent her into a panic as real as if she were watching a horror movie.  It didn’t have to be real – just the thought was scary enough to spike her blood pressure and kick off a round of obsessive compulsive ruminating.  The next day we were broken up.

She had good reasons to be insecure, and good reasons to break up.  How long is a girl expected to keep dating a guy, no matter how much she is in love with him, once she knows that they will never get married and have babies?

After that attempt at humor, an hour later she’s completely miserable, in great emotional anguish, and furiously typing away on her phone.  I just don’t want to deal with it.  At all.  I figure her happiness is her responsibility and she needs to find a way to come back into balance so that we can share happiness together.

It’s obviously quite rude to have a date and spend much of that time texting someone else.  This girl was horribly distraught, and was reaching out for help.  I had no idea if it was to a potential new lover, or to her male friend who acts as a confident and advisor.  I knew she was in pain and needed help, and wanted her to get it.  I came close to asking her to leave to go home until she could sort herself out before we meet again.

Girls often try to make a guy jealous to reassure themselves that the guy cares.  If she was playing a jealousy gambit on her phone, I wasn’t into it.  No fucking way was I going to play the game of even asking her who she was texting.  That’s her business.

And I just could not bring myself to reach out and try to comfort her.  She was being completely uncommunicative – at least to me – not any hint whatsoever to me why she was crying or what she was texting about.  Did I want to reward that with “oh baby, it’s alright, I love you, calm down”.  No, the whole scene frankly disgusted me; childish to the extreme.  I didn’t want to have ANYTHING to do with it.  At all.

I decided to wait her out and let her come to me when she was ready to talk.  She must have texted for at least an hour, and then silently fell asleep, covered up in a blanket and facing away from me.

Thankfully she found a peaceful smile in her sleep.  I injected some prescribed ketamine in a well researched attempt to heal my chronic gastritis.  That stuff is incredibly weird.  The first few times are very dissorienting – as if you were transplanted fresh – like a soul into a baby – into a fresh new weird universe and body.  Having everything be re-contextualized for me leads to the big questions.  As relationship was up, I had think about my self, how I am surviving and can continue to survive, and those that I love who love me.

I thought of my poor girl in pain.  In a flash I knew that I’m not a family man, but that such men exist.  I knew that it is simply not an option for me to take on the role of family man – even if I wanted babies with this woman, and even though I wanted her in my life long term.  It’s simply not an emotional option available to me.  There is nothing to repair or change – a rabbit is not an elephant is not a fish.  I’m not a family man and can’t become one.

As I got used to ketamine world, I found that I could still play piano, still walk, and even though I could not feel it, was still breathing just fine.  It was difficult to tell if sounds were real or hallucinations, but it semed they were just normal sounds recontextualized into the ketamine body, and probably not much of the sounds were exagerrated into hallucinations.

Hallucinating on ketamine was an option to explore if I wanted, but I wasn’t in the mood.  I felt into my heart chakra briefly, and realized I could explode into a chi-kung world of drama and emotion if wanted to enter that space.  Didn’t go there.  I opted out of any sort of chi-kung attention.  That can get overwhelming, and on my second trip was no master of ketamine space ready to dive into that particular unknown.  Low drama.  Just hang out.  Be soulful, feel the big questions – see life from fresh eyes.

As I started to come down I wanted to commune with my mate, so gently woke her up with a hello.  I was still quite affected by ketamine.  I was ready to be emotionally open to her – unlike before when she was furiously typing away at her phone instead of talking to me, who was right there beside her.

Drugs can leave my mouth unfiltered.  With her I had to spend so much time filtering my thoughts, for fear if she knew how I really felt she’d leave me.  In my effort to show that I was empathetic and understanding of the pain she was going through, I restated something I’d read the day before, said from a girl who broke up with her boyfriend.  “I mean how long is a girl expected to stay with a guy once she knows they will never get married?”  I knew it was a tactical error, but it was already out of my mouth.  Then somehow the truth serum had me saying that I was not in the mood to work, that I just wanted to rest there until she left (as in broke up) with me.

She remained uncommunicative, and I told her it’s not fair that I’m always the one doing all the talking, and all she ever does is ask questions.  She said “I’m speechless”

The next day she broke up with me, saying that she wanted a family, and knew I’d never provide it.

She was strangely shut down emotionally and uncommicative, and it really was not clear to me what our new status was.  No matter how many times I asked, I could not get her to say it explicitly, and I had to say it for her; she was not going to fuck me anymore.

One day she’s devoted and attentive and in love, if a bit clingy and insecure.

Two days later she’s blocked my contact on her phone.

That made me re-evaluate my idea that my lifestyle is like a vampire, feeding off of the best years of young women’s lives, giving them ultimately pain, for my benefit.

I was right all along.  Love is war, and very rarely is there long term mutual alliance.  Men and women have fundamentally competing interests.

What if lions had empathy for rabbits?  What good would it do the lion?  Or the rabbit?  He still has to eat.

I still need love and sex.  Knowing that this will cause pain can’t change that.  I’m a lion – and I need to eat.

Girls are no less selfish and no less driven by their agendas.  This girl knows that I’m in love with her and that it will hurt me horribly to stop seeing me.  She knows that there is an inevitable cruelty in leaving me to pursue having a family.

And girls can be WAY colder than guys – ice cold.  Not only can they go ghost, if they feel hurt they can get vindictive in ways that no guy would ever in his wildest dreams imagine.  They can be incredibly hurtful, both through neglect and deliberate torture.

Every day that I wake up I wake to pain.  I miss this girl like hell.

And she’s a very sensitive girl, and I know is going through something very similar.  We were bonded mates and best friends and lovers who spent near all of our time together.

Sure, there are plenty of fish in the sea, but even though I’m currently having sex and currently have another girl who loves me and have other options, relationships are unique.

Which actually brings me to the point of this post, and the reason to write down the whole narrative.

After we broke up we met for a bit and I got fucking furious, because she pulled this childish girl trick of invalidating all of my self and my feelings with this shitty “but that’s not how I feel” maneover.

She always called me Daddy, and liked it.  It gave us a special connection.  She absolutely hated it that I also do that with other girls, and told me that to her that totally invalidated the whole game.  If I felt that way with another girl it could never have been real with her.  If I could love another girl, then any love for her could not possible be “real”.  Ex girlfriends were excluded, and she decided to leave it ambiguous how many minutes must pass between one real love and the next for the next one to be able to become real.

I mentioned the metaphor of what if a real child said to a real parent “I don’t believe that you love me, because you also love my sister”.  And all she could do was say that’s not the same and try to change the subject as quickly as possible.

It made me fucking furious.  I really did love that girl, as a daughter.  For real.  None of HER feelings could change that.  It made no difference whatsoever if to her my love was not real because I could also love others.

It’s completely Borderline Personality Disordered insane – total lack of boundaries between self and other.

“Well, I don’t feel loved, therefore you don’t love me”

Completely invalidate me down to my core – stripping away – quite litterally – my soul.

My love is my soul, and she would so casually and contemptuously and arrogantly tell me that I don’t have a soul, just because she wants me to be incapable of loving anyone other than her.

God I hate that.

That’s a stupid trick so many girls try to use.

“Oh, reality does not fit in with my emotional needs, so reality is wrong”.

Which again gets back to why I really started to resent her.  I don’t mind a girl being jealous.  It’s normal.  I can even put up with a little bit of controlling behaviour in the name of jealousy.  But it’s when that jealousy is normalized as the only real and valid agenda that really bothers me.

Totally invalidates me and my reality and my world.

Sure, she can spout off that I’m free to be me, just not with her, and wave her hand away as if that means she’s not invalidating my core essence.  But it doesn’t work that way.  When I fuck her and she squirts and squirts and we are having the very real religious experiences that only deeply bonded lovers have, she refuses to allow me to be me – for my world to exist.

I do love her, for real, and she knows and feels it.  And she can also have sisters and that changes NOTHING between us.

Because that doesn’t fit in with her evolved agenda, her brain will absolutely not allow those thoughts to be real and true, and therefore not allow me to be real and true.

The only way I was able to spend any time with her at all was to basically lie about who I was – constantly – every minute.  I could not even let my fucking phone ring without it totally freaking her out.  Granted, being caught cheating three times is enough to give a girl in love post traumatic stress disorder, and she was merely trying to protect her property and ground and future.  But still – a little humor please?  Yes, I want to fuck other gils, and no, it does not in any way change or diminish my real feelings.

God, that really fucking bothers me.  Not all girls are like that.  In fact it’s one reason I kind of prefer high socio-sexual score girls.  They might be a higher infidelity risk, but at least they have sympathy for the real human condition.

Monogomy and love have absolutely NOTHING to do with each other.  Sometimes by coincidence they happen at the same time, but there is no causality there.

Not sure if I’m dying.

In my monastery days one of the monks I lived with had a line that always cracked him up. Whenever someone was talking about illness he’d say “Yup, you’re dying. So am I. We all are.”

It was a Buddhist existential joke.

I’ve had chronic gastritis for a few decades. I think the term is Crohn’s disease, although doctors in Indonesia don’t seem to know that word. With Crohn’s you get flare ups which wipe you out, and times when you can function fairly normally. A bad flare up can kill you, but usually just lays you up in bed, or makes it difficult to focus and work.

I’ve been having a long protracted flare up for many months now. It got so bad I thought that I was dying, so I scraped together some money and snaked a camera down my throat.

Yuck. What an ugly mess down there. That’s not what a stomach is supposed to look like.

Unfortunately after the test I was still wacked out on valium and anesthetic drugs and made a poor choice to not immediately take the biopsy to the clinic for evaluation, reasoning that it would not affect the treatment decisions. I had assumed that cancer could be diagnosed visually. So I’ll have to scrape up more funds for another test to rule that out, as apparently cancer isn’t quite that obvious.

That’s all pretty boring, I know. Everybody dies. The less boring stuff is what happens in the meantime. In the meantime I’m having a hard time focusing.

On the worst days I can take tramadol, a poppy juice type drug, but it isn’t strong enough to kill the pain. It’s weaker and therefore less addictive than drugs that actually work. Indonesia is very cautious about opioid narcotics, and only offers stronger options in a hospital emergency care situation, or sometimes for cancer patient pain management. There is a black market, and there may be ways to work within the system to legally get stronger pain medicine, but the fact is that all effective strong pain medicines are opioids, which are dangerously addictive.

I’m an alcoholic who doesn’t drink, so have some familiarity with addiction. I’d rather pass on opioid addiction. Luckily for now on the worst days I can load up on tramadol, and the pain is tolerable.

It puts me into a semi-sleep state. I can’t actually sleep, but I can’t actually stay awake, so I try really hard to meditate. Every few seconds I’ll start to hallucinate; the bathroom door will turn into a cell phone, then I’ll wrangle my attention back to focusing on a chakra or something. Then after the strongest effects of the drug wear off I have to get real sleep. So I can be in bed for 20 hours.

That’s only happened twice this last month, and usually I can avoid tramadol or take just a few. Luckily for me I’m not that fond of the effects. I do take ultra low dose naltrexone at the same time, which is supposed to kill the euphoria, and retain the pain killing, and help to prevent addiction. And on non-tramadol days I take a larger low dose of the opioid-antagonist naltrexone at night, which helps to regrow the opioid receptors. So far so good – I never think about taking it recreationally, and the next day after a big dose have no interest in loading up again.

The worst part isn’t the pain. It’s that I can’t focus. The low energy level isn’t conducive to work, plus there can be brain fog. And during a flare up any food will put me to sleep within 10 minutes. Sometimes for so long that when I wake up I’m hungry again.

After I eat, food sits against a host of ulcers, and some of that food swims directly into my blood stream, which freaks out all the little people who live in there. The immune defense people scramble around trying to kill the food particles, and get a little indiscriminate in their panic, and wind up attacking healthy tissue, so I have generalized inflammation.

This can and does lead to cardiovascular health problems, and brain degradation. I’ve already had a few mini strokes which has left me partially blind in my left eye. I’ve got psoriasis. I feel that my brain organ is falling apart.

So even if it’s not cancer, I’m still dying. I’m really not sure how long I’ll have my brain.

********

In the meantime my financial situation has taken a turn. I’m eating, even though I find it difficult to work, but there is a constant background anxiety about that.

And the strangest thing is that I have some enemies who seem to really want to hurt me. I owe some money, and they think that I can pay but just don’t, out of stubbornness and greed.

The people persecuting me seem very emotional. Deadly serious angry. They’ve expressed that they’d really like to see harm and ruin come to me.

It’s difficult to believe that the emotion is all about finances.

********

People sneak a lot of copyrighted material into the youtube. I was watching a documentary about the making of Easy Rider yesterday. It followed on auto-play after the documentary about the making of Animal House. Which followed after the making of the Blues Brothers movie.

If you are familiar with Easy Rider you’ll know it’s one of those entertainment features that introduced many new ways of looking at and conveying the world. Firsts in music and movies and any field engender a sense of awe and respect for the genius of vision, but of course at the time of production are strongly resisted. Which from the vantage of retrospect heightens our respect, for the courage of conviction while at odds with the system.

The theme of Easy Rider was how the hippies and bikers were seen as degenerate outsiders and so were treated with extreme malevolence. The final scene had the heroes (or anti-heroes) shot dead by red-neck strangers as they rode their choppers down a country two lane highway.

The strongest scene in the movie used real towns-folk in a real diner using their own real dialogue talking about the interlopers. Nasty slander slung freely. The girls reactions to the long haired strangers were also genuine; they were highly flirtatious.

In the Animal House documentary they recounted a story of how the crew had joined a frat house party. The frat boys were not at all pleased to have the interlopers there, and tensions were rising. The story ends with all of the crew getting a beating by the frat boys and having to run away from the party, and then being chased for several blocks.

Flash forward and of course the Easy Rider crew and the Animal House crew are now cultural icons; a living part of how we think of our own personal identity.

But to the local men at the time they were simply poachers.

Emotions ran EXTREMELY high.

In the documentary about Easy Rider it was explained that the ending was not hyperbole. Some of the crew felt that some of the real people in that diner would like to and may be capable of the gruesome anonymous road-side murder.

For the Animal House true-tale, the frat boys were ganging up as a group and beating up people that they knew were actors, there to make a movie on their campus, about campus life.

In those situations, you can’t really sit down and diffuse tensions with explanations.

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It would be easy to make parallels between my usually non-monogamous self living in Indonesia, and the Easy Rider and Animal House interlopers.

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There is also a thing called narcissistic rage.

There is an ancient Buddhist text, written in India or Tibet or somewhere near there, that is written as a biography of the historical yogi Milarepa. It’s full of wonderful miraculous fairy tales, but as all good fairy tales is also high literature and a commentary on the human condition.

Our Buddhist group used to set aside a block of a few days each year to get together and chant the full book. I don’t recall much conversation about it, but I think a lot of us basically took the fairy tales at face value. The guy would sometimes fly. At the very least we believed he did spend a lot of time meditating in solitude in cold places with little food or clothing. That part probably was true, and is a weird type of hero’s journey.

I was reminded of one of the tales recently, thinking of the people who wish ill to me. I consider them to be genuinely dangerous people, and I really have no idea what to do about it.

I’m going to interrupt myself.

Marc Maron interviewed David Spade, and David recounted a story with hints of the scene from Joe Dirt, where he was in the wrong pit at the wrong time, being told “It puts the lotion on it’s skin!” The true story David tells is that he had a personal assistant who one night showed up at his house and tried to kill him. He had to physically fight, and run, and fight, and was eventually able to get enough distance to run into a room that had his shotgun under the bed. Otherwise no David Spade.

I put the “it puts the lotion on it’s skin” story together with the crazed with jealousy friend trying to kill him story together for a reason. It’s too easy to blame the victim.

When that former employee arrived at his house with murderous intent, nothing could have been said to assuage his anger.

Which is the point of this next Milarepa tale. Milarepa meets an old hag on the street, who just starts to abuse him.

After each abusive action she does, he uses plain descriptive language to tell her what she just did.

Instead of leading to introspection or remorse, this seems to enrage the hag even more.

Which is why before telling these tales I introduced the anchor of narcissistic rage.

Sometimes even mentioning that you are being wrongfully persecuted will completely enrage someone.

I’ve seen it first hand with a girl I once dated who had BPD. If you’ve no direct experience with this you’ll find it simply unbelievable, and not part of the human condition. With a cluster B spectrum personality disordered person, if you use plain descriptive non-judgmental language to recount one of their bad actions, and ever so gently suggest not to repeat such an action, they will fucking blow up.

There are situations in which you simply can’t use words to make antagonists back off.

David had a guy in his house trying to murder him.

I’ve got people who, I’m sure, would not only like to see me dead, but would prefer if I suffered first.

This does not make me sleep better at night, and again I’m sure that’s some small source of pleasure for them.

And I think that simply mentioning that fact is very dangerous, because it most likely would simply enrage them.