The Misconceptions and Backwards Morals Belonging to Most Females
The following is a post that will go up on my blog in the far future. It’s also the continuation and conclusion to this post that I made.
Last night was an interesting evening.
A brawd I had charged to the game came by my spot dry-begging for weed-money.
Now--as soon as we began conversing--she asked me for weed-money. I told her I didn't have it because my money stays in the bank. I told her I can teach her how to make some cash if she were to get down with me; I'd give her advice for a fee.
It’s funny that this brawd had no issues begging me for money--but when I told her I knew how she could make paper--she didn't want anything to do it. Suddenly, she had morals, saying she'd just get a job.
A little bit about shawty:
She's short, has a decent shape, her biscuits were fluffy, and she has the complexion I prefer black women to have—she’s milk-chocolate.
When I realized that she didn't want to make money, she automatically went into jump-off status. She looked uncomfortable as we were talking, so I told her that if she didn't want to be here, I wasn't going to make her do anything she didn't want to do. She said she knew she wasn't going to do anything--and it wasn't me--and then she went into some other shit about "no finance no romance." I laughed because I'm a thoroughbred. I don't give a fuck about romance. I can romance a special lady when I’m with one, but she wasn't one.
I told her I was the same way and asked her what she had to offer. She tried to flip it by asking me the same, so I flipped it back by stating that "I asked you first." She said that she could give me what any woman gives a man, “sex.” Moreover, "What else could she give?”
I told her I could get pussy if I wanted it. I pointed to my face and said, “look at me." She agreed.
I then told her that if she was trying to get money out of me, then she has the wrong man. I started looking around the room and began picking up various gifts females had given me over the years. I picked up a book-bag "look at this", I said. This was from a lady-friend from last year; she bought it for me for Christmas; this book-bag is Timberland. Then I picked up the comforter on my bed and told her "this is Tommy Hilfiger." Here's the card she sent me; all this shit was in a big box with a name-brand body spray, deodorant, and cologne. Then I showed her more gifts. "This is from a lady friend as well; she bought me video games, sent me money, and all types of other gifts. I don't pay to fuck with women; women pay to fuck with me.”
She high-fived me and said we were the same, but we weren't. All the shit females have bought me over the years; it surrounded us. I had something to show for my game, and she had nothing. Women buy me shit because my lifestyle commands it; she begs for money because her lifestyle demands it--hence, why she was begging me for weed-money.
This is the type of brawd that has gotten a few free meals from fast food places, and a few tokes from the blunts of the lames she fucks with but that’s it. I wish I could have shown her pics of the females, just so I could’ve crushed the mentality that most women have: "He only has those gifts because the women he fucks with are broke, fat, and have low self-esteem." If I had shown her the pics, she'd have seen how much of a loser she was compared to them. They were slim and attractive. They had careers while she was just a broke bitch begging me for weed-money.
When she left out, I told her, "Since we can't get on the same page, it's best you lose my number." She gave a slight smile and said "ok." Also, I gave her a hug so that she could know that there weren't any hard feelings involved.
The way the night ended just reminded me of how awesome I really am. –Stop Simping Movement (December 10, 2015)
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