Tag: sex

Failing? Or Failure?

Rob Says1 Comment

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.

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Desire

Rob Says6 Comments

Desire.

It’s one of my most favorite words in the dictionary. The word evokes so many things for me. From breasts dripping with sweat, the smell of sex, hot breath on your neck, nails scratching blood trails down your back, to eyes rolling in the back of your head orgasms, to her pussy grinding against my hand, my face, my crotch.

Desire is a dive bar that serves cheap booze and the smell of stale cigarettes is in the air. It’s the smell of sweat and the heat of bodies packed together, grinding, grazing, pushing and pulling towards one another. Desire is a beer bottle sliding on a guitar neck as the band plays the blues. Desire is the devil tempting me.

To quote Ronnie James Dio on Heaven and Hell: “There’s a big black shape looking up at me. He says I know where you ought to be! Come with me and I’ll give you, Desire. But first, you’ve got to burn, burn, burn, burn in fire!”

Desire is when she will drive two hours each way to come and fuck you. When she will get out of her car, throw herself against you, put her tongue in your mouth and you can taste the coffee and her need for you, and when she wraps her arms tightly around you and throws a leg around yours for good measure.

Desire is her walking through your door, climbing the stairs while stripping out of her shirt, dropping it on the staircase, unclasping her bra, and asking you, “Where’s your bedroom?” All while she hasn’t missed a step or a stride. Desire is the sweat in her hair as you pull it and the sweat on her breasts as you lick them.

Desire is her putting her arms around you while you are cooking bacon at the stove and she unbuttons your pants and sticks her hands down inside and grabs your cock and starts stroking you.

Desire is when you turn around and she drops to her knees in front of you, pulls your cock out of your pants and begins to suck. Desire is seeing her drooling while she is sucking your cock at the stove. Desire is when she pulls you from the stove and you absently turn it off so you don’t burn the house down and she is stripping, walking backwards to the bedroom as you pull your shirt off.

Desire is when you pull her pants and her panties down in one smooth fluid motion and she grinds her ass against your crotch and the juice from her pussy drips down onto the floor because she is so wet.

Desire is when she is breathless and can only whisper, “Fuck me. Fuck me now.”

Desire is when you are straddling her and she is gripping your cock and guiding you inside of her and she doesn’t care that you aren’t wearing a condom and she doesn’t care if you come inside her. That’s how bad she wants you.

Desire is when you come inside her and she screams and groans as you come and she comes too.

Desire is forbidden, taboo. Desire is carnal and naughty and earthly and smelly and messy and sweaty. Desire is salivating and salty and silly and funny sometimes too.

Desire is hot and exciting and wordless and breathless and sometimes it can be wrong but it feels so right and you do it and you want to keep doing it and when you’re done you want to do it again. Desire can move mountains and destroy civilizations. Desire is all that is holy and all that is sacrilege. Desire is heaven and hell.

Desire is biting and choking and bloody and sweet and tender sometimes.

Desire is about feeling and emotions. Desire is what is always tickling at the back of your mind.

Desire is a connection.

Desire is not a thesis. Desire is not an essay. Desire isn’t a set of variables that can be controlled for, not really. Desire isn’t an algorithm. Desire isn’t a computer simulation or a program. Desire isn’t a course on gumroad.

Desire isn’t logical or about logic. Desire isn’t contrived in a vacuum or in a laboratory setting. Desire isn’t rational. Desire isn’t about investment.

Desire just IS.

Desire is a fire. A burning. A need. A longing. A hunger.

Desire isn’t an equation to be solved for.

You can whisper desire. You can beg with desire. Desire will make you shudder and bring you to your knees.

You can write poetry about it. You can write and sing songs about it. You can play an instrument to it and harness it.

You can’t bottle it and put stock and credit into it.

Desire is the devil on your shoulder whispering to you to do all the things you want to do.

Desire is delicious.

Desire cannot be held in your hand and quantified and labeled and put in a jar on your shelf.

Desire cannot be negotiated. Desire cannot be “worked on.”

Desire cannot be controlled for and owned.

Desire is evocative. Desire isn’t sanitized and boring.

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Women, Relationships, And Onions

Rob Says2 Comments
Women and Relationships

I saw something interesting the other day on Twatter. Some guys I follow happen to follow a different guy who decided to write a blog post about “Investing In Genuine Desire.” What got me interested in trying to read this particular post was some of the replies to the author, this one in particular:

I know I’ve wrote about this before, but I’ll be damned if I can find it at the moment, so I’m going to sum up the most salient points.

Why do women leave? For every woman, or man for that matter, that leaves, they will have a reason that is unique to them and to you. Maybe she left you because you were a fat piece of shit with nothing going on in your life. The next woman left because you lost weight and became a skinny piece of shit. Point is: both left for their own reasons.

The real truth of women leaving is twofold:

1. They left because they wanted to.

2. They left because they could.

End of story. Trying to find out “why” isn’t going to change anything and it isn’t going to prevent a future woman from leaving if she so desires. Trying to mitigate her leaving is putting yourself in her “frame” and it smacks of covert contracts on your part.

If anything, you should be so busy with things in your life that if she leaves, it’s not going to be the end of the world. Sure it will be disappointing, sure it will hurt. That’s normal. You’ll be too busy to be worrying too much about it if it happens though. You have a life right?

Women and relationships are kind of like onions. Sometimes they stink, sometimes they taste really good and add flavor to your life, and sometimes they will make you cry.

They are also like onions in the way that an onion doesn’t have a core. We guys have this fascination with trying to get the “root” or the “core” of the matter. This includes sex, relationships, and everything in between. Hell, I just tried to read an approximately 2000 word essay about “Investing in Genuine Desire.”

I say tried, because I couldn’t finish it. The author is way overthinking things.

“Women are made to be loved, not understood.” – Oscar Wilde

He had a lot of interesting labels and terminology, but when I finally tapped out and cried uncle, it was because he’s peeling back the onion only he’s going to find out that there is no “core.” There is no “truth” to the mystery that he’s created for himself and that he’s trying to unravel.

Keep digging at women to understand them and eventually you will, but you won’t be able to love them anymore. The beauty, the mystery, the chemistry, all of it will be gone. Same goes for relationships. Pick them apart long enough and there will be nothing left in your hands but wisps and ashes.

Ideally, your life should be so full of interesting things to do and to see that you won’t have time to ask questions like what the author was asking. The guy has too much time on his hands if he has time to write a 2000 word essay on “Investing in Genuine Desire.”

If you have the time to sit around and think, “It took her two hours to text me back, so I’ll wait four hours before I text her back.” You have too much time on your hands. I work all day, write blog posts, create and edit videos and do live streams as well as find time to have sex and date. I don’t have time to sit around and wonder why she did or didn’t text me back and why it did or didn’t take “x” amount of time. I’m too fucking busy to worry about that. My girl will text me when she wants and I’ll get back to her when I get the time and get a chance. I’m not worried or thinking about what she is or isn’t doing.

You want to get genuine desire from her? Have a life that is more interesting than hers. That’s it. You don’t have to be “The World’s Most Interesting Man,” you just need to have a life that is more interesting than hers. And have you seen most women today?

Sorry ladies, I’m not trying to shit on you, but most of you don’t have fuck all going on in your lives. Most of you are outright boring. So just be more interesting than she is. That’s it. There’s your “hypergamy switch” for you.

Instead of sitting around overthinking things like you usually do, why not keep it simple, stupid?

Like Oscar Wilde said, “Women are made to be loved, not understood.” So stop trying to understand them and just love them. Enjoy them because they are there. Have fun with them, be fun for them, fuck them, and enjoy your time with them because one day it will be over. It could be that she decides to leave, it could be that you decide to leave, it could be that one of you dies. There’s no guarantees in life that you will outlive or outlast the other.

Have a life that is interesting. If your life is more interesting than hers, she’ll stick around. At least for awhile. Remember, “She’s not yours, it’s just your turn.” And your “turn” could last for 50+ years. Or it could be just one hour of one day.

Stop overthinking things and get a hobby. Ideally you should be too busy to be worrying about if she desires you or not. Your life should be so full that it’s great if she’s there, but it’s fine if she isn’t. Ideally you should be exhausted by the time you fall into bed.

Stop peeling back the layers of the onion because if you do, you’ll find the “truth” is that there is no “core,” no “center,” no “truth,” no “answer.” Just that it is, and now that you’ve peeled it back into oblivion, you’ll have nothing in your hand but shreds and shards of what was.

Stop trying to prevent her from leaving or losing her desire. Stop trying to control and manipulate. You can’t keep her around if she wants to go and if you do it’ll be considered kidnapping. Also, why would you want to be around someone who doesn’t want to be around you? Better to cut your losses and move on.

There’s always more women. Always.

For God’s sake, stop worrying about “investing in her desire and in the relationship and getting her to invest herself into you and into the relationship.” Invest in yourself. Invest in your life.

Stop trying to anticipate and to control and just Let. Go.

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