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Slutgirl
7 comments
That was fucking gorgeous… wannabe dealers are a fucking laugh, i used to warn competition that i was too good, that sooner or later they’d be on my payroll, usually that’s how it ended up, that or they were out of the game, and the powder game is always dicey, you should have told her to meet you in ten minutes on the corner and slipped out before her bf got out of the bogs, 20pound note she’d have been there…
Yes, there’s a real gap in the market up here for someone who turns up on time, is reliable, has really good stuff to sell, and is the articulate and well-mannered person that the vast majority of people, who aren’t interested in sitting in some shitty pub pretending to be someone’s pal, would think of ringing first.
Hmmm…about the girl. That’s an idea. I wonder if I could suggest that I could pay her for sex. That’d be great actually. Uncomplicated. I like my female friends but it’s getting beyond a joke now. Kim, Kitty, Wendy, and every single date I go on – I feel like some emasculated semi-gay social worker sometimes, the harmless man who’s funny or “sweet” – I’ve that one a couple of times – but with whom the prospect of sex is out of the question. “Obviously not, it’s looby! Nice bloke, but shit – not in that way!”
Sex is absolutely central to me, it’s part of a vital drive that is no different in essence from my compulsion for art, music, literature. I don’t want to live with it unexpressed.
Kono that is a great idea. I’m not sure when I’ll see her again but when I do I’ll suggest it to her. What’s the worst that can happen? She can say no.
Actually, found the post from when I met her last time. It was June last year.
“I nearly chatted someone up today.
I was in the pub with Vic and recognised a girl we had had a drunken chat with a couple of weeks ago. I asked her over to our table, from which moment the awareness that I was being rude in shunning Vic was insufficient to temper my interest in her. We bantered for a while, during which I gave her my number. “I like sex, and drinking, but I’ve never had much love,” she said. Usual tale of heightened sexual response as a delayed result of maternal deprivation. We left together, but only because she had a doctor’s appointment. She kissed me on the lips and said “Don’t take it wrong, but I don’t go for older blokes.” “You cheeky bugger,” I said, before realising that 51 minus 27 is 24.”
Nobody likes to work. You guys aren’t all that special. It’s the thread that runs through all of us.
You have a card? Like, a business card? What for?
Shakespeare wrote sonnets. Now we text. A tragic turn of events.
I never cared all that much about sex. Still don’t. I know you guys are thinking, “Oh, how tragic. It’s the best part of living.” But just step back from that for a moment and imagine being free from that madness. It’s kind of liberating.
Exile, when i was young sex was the end all be all, i spent almost all my waking hours chasing tail and the other sundry activities that went along with it, but now that i’ve reached my Zen state i don’t avoid it but i don’t chase after it, and you’re quite right there is a liberation when you no longer are beholden to dick brain, i also seem to find that the more you don’t seem to give a shit about it the more women find that attractive, odd that is…
Looby, please keep us updated on the plan, i’m hoping it works and a fine post of drugs and fucking is to follow, haha!!
Exile – I’ve got a business card to give women my number. Why else would a wastrel like me have one?
I had virtually no sex in my 20s. I’m having my twenties now. And now, the sexless life that you describe as a liberation, I would view as a form of death.
Kono –I’ve never had great results from “being yourself.” I think that’s shit advice. I don’t have a single self to be. But I’ve been down the pub all afternoon with Wendy, Kitty and Ingrid and on our drunken way home I said to Wendy, (I’m referring to my text to her from the other night which said “I love you Wendy, I really do. I love you in every sense of that word.") – “Yes, I know, but I do love you a little bit really. It was half true.”
Did i give that advice? the plan i was referring to was the one from my first comment… i’ve lied, begged, borrowed and stolen for a fuck, whatever it took to get my end in, i realize now that the amount of fucking i did in my teens, 20s, and 30s was more than the average bear, i may not have been John Holmes or Wilt Chamberlain but i never had a problem pulling some tail, they’ll be more of that on the lounge though, all in good time..
Sorry Kono, I wasn’t saying that the the advice to be oneself was yours.
Persuading women who say they like me into a sexual relationship is impossible. It’s a problem as old as the hills – attraction often tends to be one-sided. To me, the liking of someone close to you, the conversation, the sharing of confidences, the laughing and the drinking and dancing and drugging, would ideally exist as part of a spectrum which includes sex. That’s not going to happen though, so if I see Slutgirl again I’ll try to get her into bed and we can make the most out of being each other’s lowest common denominator. Although the thought of getting my head kicked in by her boyf puts me off a bit.
But in the meantime, looking forward to the elaboration of the final bit of your last sentence :)
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