Welcome to a New Year. A year where everything is fresh and new and we’ve all had some form of “Great Reset” right? This is the time and the place. This is when you get to Crush It.
As of this post publishing, it’s 4:45am MST on Monday, January 4th. You only have 361 days left in the year to crush it. Are you crushing it? Or are you being a fucking loser?
Guys on the internet are crushing it, just ask them. Better yet, you don’t need to ask them, they’ll tell you they are crushing it whether you want to see and hear it or not.
“Instead of staying up late on New Year’s Eve, how about you go to bed early? Get plenty of sleep so that on January 1st, you can wake up at 4:30am, drink your first pot of black coffee of the new year, take your first cold shower of the new year, and then you can get down to the business of crushing it.”
“Don’t drink too much, don’t drink and drive, and if you do go out and drink, take a cab or get an Uber. And if you drink on New Year’s Eve, make sure you drink plenty of water so you can stay hydrated. Oh, and wear a mask.”
Fuck you assholes, I’ll do what I want.
The only thing more unattractive than a woman acting like a mother hen to a man, is another man acting like a mother hen to a man.
“If you’re going to have sex, make sure you wear a rubber, because control the birth, and your dick will fall off if you let it touch that dirty, dirty, dirty vagina. And if you don’t wear a rubber and your dick doesn’t magically fall off, for god’s sake, do not come in her! I guess it’s okay if you pull out and come on her tits, her ass, her belly, and her face, but do NOT come in her! Control the birth!”
Fuck you assholes, I’ll do what I want.
Are you crushing it yet?
What exactly are we crushing anyways?
Why are we crushing it? To what end? What’s the point of crushing it?
The point of crushing it, of course, is so that you have bragging rights on the internet. It’s a way to make you feel good about yourself and maybe, hopefully, you’ll make some other piece of shit feel like the piece of shit that you know they are.
“Fuck you, Rob. While you’ve been out drinking and fucking and enjoying your life and the pleasure and company of women, I’ve been home crushing it!”
Yeah, whatever. I hope she sees this bro.
Guys, it’s only 4 days into the New Year, chill out. Taking your victory laps this early in the game tells me a couple of things about you:
1. You have no life.
2. You are full of shit and it shows.
To quote Rian Stone: “The smart ones will STFU for 6 weeks then start running the victory laps.” So take one from him and shut the fuck up.
“Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”
Less is more, guys. Less is more.
You have the entire rest of the year to crush it. In fact, you have the entirety of the rest of your life to crush it, so let’s turn the volume down from 11 to around 3 shall we?
The stupidity never ceases to amaze me. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, some dipshit comes along and proves me wrong. I guess stupid truly knows no bounds.
I can remember when I was much younger than I am today and I heard about women having orgasms. I can also remember hearing, and eventually seeing, a woman “squirt.” The first time I ever saw a woman squirt was in some porno video. Back then I wondered, “Is that fucking real? Or is it staged? Or god-forbid, is she peeing?”
Turns out the “squirt” is real. 2006 was the year that I found that out firsthand. I met a woman, I’ll call her “Cindy.” Cindy was a “squirter.” I didn’t know that until I took her home after having a couple of drinks at the local bar with her. We ended up in bed and as I’m penetrating her, she happens to mention that she may or may not squirt. Turns out she squirted. And then she squirted again. She squirted enough times that the sheets and the mattress were soaked. According to her, my dick was hitting her “just right.”
The first couple of times we had sex and she squirted, I’m not going to lie, it was an ego boost. I was “the man.” I could make this woman soak the bed just by thrusting in her.
After a couple of weeks though, the novelty of the “squirt” wore off, at least for me. I got tired of having to change my sheets every single time we had sex. I got tired of using towels to hopefully absorb some of her juice and spare my mattress. The towels weren’t enough and I was running out of them unless I wanted to wash a load of towels every time we had sex.
I also had to strip the bed down and let the mattress air dry. I don’t know now and I didn’t know then, but I didn’t want to take a chance on the mattress developing mold or mildew. Sleep was pretty much not an option as the majority of the bed was one big “wet spot.”
Cindy and I parted ways a couple of months later and my bed and my dick breathed a sigh of relief. Fucking a woman who squirts tends to mess with her natural lubricant and any artificial lubricant that you might use. It’s sort of like fucking in a pool or a hot tub but without the excitement of those particular water environments. There’s been times in my life where instead of premature ejaculation, I would have to worry about not coming. Having a woman squirt and shake and rattle and roll fucks up the rhythm and it can fuck up the sensitivity, at least for my cock, and then me coming is pretty much not going to happen.
It wasn’t until 2019 that I encountered another squirter, or at least one who squirted regularly. She loved what I could do to her body and I guess that our parts lined up perfectly to get her to squirt from penetration. Same thing happened as before. Soaked sheets, soaked towels, soaked mattress. Same loss of sensitivity and lack of ejaculations for me as well.
Now when I meet a woman who claims that she’s a “squirter,” I take pause. Do I really want to go through the mess and hassle of that again? Now I would be inclined to want to sleep with her at her own place or maybe a hotel/motel or something. That way I don’t have to clean up the mess and air shit out, that’s someone else’s problem.
The guy in the screen shot is naive or is a rank amateur at best. Saying that the female orgasm is a myth is false. Never mind squirting, which is another phenomenon altogether, but I have felt women orgasm. I’ve felt it on my hands, my face, and on my cock. I think it would be extremely hard to fake an actual orgasm. The throbbing and pulsing isn’t something that I think you can control. A woman may fake groans, moans, and even thrashing around, but that throb that happens inside her body? I don’t think she could fake that.
The look of ecstasy and longing in her eyes, the smile on her face, and at least in my experience, the giggling and laughing that usually accompany an orgasm is pretty hard to fake as well.
The female orgasm isn’t a myth, it’s real. So is squirting. Be careful who you listen to and what you read. There’s a lot of nonsense and bullshit out there.
I saw this tweet/poll the other day and of course, I answered it. I remember more the girls I have slept with than the girls that I have failed to sleep with. In more recent times, there’s only been one woman that I “failed” to sleep with that sticks out in my mind, and that was Sheila. The only reason that she sticks out to me is because she hit all of my physical buttons. She was short, petite, in shape, and didn’t have any children. However, her red flags were more than I could deal with, especially when all I wanted to do was bang. I’m reasonably certain that I could have banged her if I had put more time and energy into pursuing her, but the ROI wasn’t worth it to me.
Did I “fail?” If by failing you mean, I didn’t get what I wanted which was to have sex with her, then yes, I failed. But does that make me a failure? No.
This may come as a surprise to some of you out there, but I fail at something, sometimes many somethings, several times a day. I fuck shit up constantly, I don’t always get whatever it was that I was after, I fail and I get up, dust myself off and I go at it again. I learn from my failings and I learn to improvise, adapt, and overcome. Sometimes I learn that whatever it was that I was after wasn’t worth the price of admission. Sometimes I’m lazy and I just can’t be bothered because I don’t really want it that bad. Sometimes things are totally out of my control and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it but admit defeat and do a tactical withdrawal and either go at it from a different direction or just let it go entirely.
Every woman that I have had any form of relationship with, I have learned something. Every woman that I didn’t have a relationship in one form or another, I learned something. I’m always failing and I’m always learning. But I’m not a failure.
It’s okay to fail. It’s okay to try something and fuck it up. It’s okay to not get what you were going after. It happens. It’s not okay to just give up and consider that somehow it’s you that is completely the problem. Giving up is failure. Failure is when you assume it’s something about you and you can do nothing about it. It becomes omnipresent, static, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s not about you, it is you.
Guys bitching that they can’t get laid because they are short are failures. They are making something that is completely out of their control their issue. Might as well just give up. If only you were taller, that would fix everything. Except it doesn’t. And women in general don’t give a fuck about your height. Not nearly as much as you do.
I’m not throwing shade at this guy for his comment to that poll. The truth is, I happen to really like this guy as far as being internet acquaintances goes. I’m also not going to try to read his mind. Why he focuses on his losses is anyone’s guess but his. He’s the only one that truly knows why he chooses to focus on the ones that got away versus the ones that he succeeded with. Does he think he is a failure? Hard to say for sure, but it appears that way to me. His last line “But I can still see the faces of all the attractive girls I’ve approached that I ultimately wasn’t good enough for,” tells me enough. I don’t know his situation, I don’t know the context, the nuance, and the details of his situation. In short, I don’t know enough about him to come to a solid decision as to what is going on here. It’s mostly a wild guess on my part but his tweet stood out to me. I like his honesty and personally, regardless of what he thinks or doesn’t think of himself, I don’t consider him a failure. Whatever he’s doing isn’t working is all. Maybe it’s time for him to try something different. Whether that be approaching women differently in different venues, or even moving to another town, city, state, or country. He has options whether he can see them or not. And if he doesn’t have options, it’s on him to create options for himself. I’m sure he’ll do just fine in the long run.
How does he know “he wasn’t good enough for them?” Because he didn’t have sex with them? Maybe it wasn’t about him. Maybe she (or they) had boyfriends, were married, in a relationship that they were happy with, on their periods, just broke up with somebody, were lesbians, or just weren’t interested at the time. God knows what and why women do what they do. They don’t know and we definitely don’t know, so who cares? Maybe they like guys from another race. I’ve had that happen to me. Met a gal years ago that I found hot and wanted to bang. Turns out she liked guys from another race. If I had been of that race I would have been in. Instead I wasn’t and that was that. It wasn’t personal and it wasn’t about me. She liked what she liked. It’s funny, but women have preferences and have “types,” just like we do.
The truth is, one woman, when it comes to the physical mechanics of sex, feels pretty much like the next one. There’s no such thing as bad pussy, just some better than others. This is why I didn’t put a lot of energy, time, or effort into pursuing Sheila. I know that she would feel pretty much like the next one or the one before her when I would have been up inside her. It was the price I would have had to pay in order to get to that sex that turned me away. Don’t get me wrong, if she would have been DTF the night I went out with her, I would have had sex with her, she was that hot to me. All of the logistical bullshit that I would have had to deal with in order to get her there on date #2 or more was more than I wanted to deal with though. So I simply reached out to her, got a sort of non-committal text from her, told her “Ah, okay,” and then left it in her court to see where it would go. Turns out it went nowhere, and that’s okay by me because there’s always another woman right around the corner.
Would I bang her today if she reached out to me? Probably not. Not unless she was willing to do most, if not all of the heavy lifting to make it happen. I have other options so there’s no sense in crying over spilled milk or a missed opportunity.
You ultimately have to decide if you have failed or if you are a failure. One is a lesson and it’s really the only way that we learn and sometimes we learn quick from it. The other one is a state of being where you have little to no control over it and it is usually a static state and part of your personality or your identity. Failing is okay and you’re going to fail, with whatever you do, especially in the beginning. The other is an identity complex and has more to do with your ego than anything else. One you can learn from, the other allows you to be a victim. The choice is yours. Choose wisely.
Rob Says 
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