A commenter wrote that I do not even know what kind of woman I like. He was right. I thought I wanted girls that most consider 10s. But I just wanted to be the guy who gets them. The truth is that I do not find them attractive at all. Today’s 10 is a majestically cut, meager face with an arrogant indifferent expression. A face to be worshipped, a face made to command, the face of a female sovereign. But not a face to fall in love with, not the face of a woman for a man.
Men discuss truths about 10s. But look at these 10s. They are not girls. They are queens and rulers. They have neither the face nor the character of a girl. They do not look attractive as much as they look dangerous.
Now that I feel more complete, the unsatiable urge to be is gone. With it gone is the wish to have what everybody wants.
All that remains is the appetite for a girl. For a girl with a kind and welcoming face and personality and a soft body I can cum on. One that has not dissociated from her inherent femininity and desire to be appreciated as a girl just like I had dissociated from my desire to be appreciated as a man.
I want her to be cute and I want her to be sweet. Not always, of course, not forced. I want her sweetness to be the free expression of herself, not the result of her own wish to be approved of. I want her kindness to be an expression of confidence, not one of shyness. I want her submission to be a expression of her wish to gift herself to me and be bestially dominated, not one of guilt and obligation. I want femininity, not a caricature of femininity.
I once met such a girl. She was a student of mine. She liked me, but she had an ugly face and I could not appreciate her femininity back then. She wanted to meet me and she came with a beautiful pink dress. The way she touched me was healing; the way she treated me made me feel manly without taking away from her. She was like a warm wind flowing around the rock that was me. Her soft silk dress only complemented the softness of her breasts when she was close to me. She smelled wonderfully.
But I did not feel like a rock. I did not think I deserved this. I felt no anguish with her, like with the girls I desired. Being able to have her made her unattractive to me. I felt contempt for her kindness. I did not want a girl; I wanted a ruler. And, yeah, her face was really ugly, as I said. That would stop me even today. But truly, her personality was just what I would wish for today.
This is the girl I met:
I took pictures of her. She moved and posed excitedly like a little girl, without shame. And that is what she was. And that is what I desire. A girl who is one with her femininity and to whom I can show my animal side. A girl I can own and who does not object to it.
I remember a time in kindergarden when I used to play with a Japanese girl. I like Japanese girls. They are cute and feminine when I see them sitting in cafes in Munich. I imagine their soft little hands carressing my dick.
Here is a stock picture of one I found that I liked:
Here is a popular girl that I like:
Just look at her beautiful, innocently sexual movement. Her sexual energy is so shameless and strong that she can barely contain it and sprays it in all directions. Does she even have an idea what this does to a healthy man? Like a cute little bunny only waiting for a man whom she can explore her dark side with. Just makes me hard instantly and puts a mischievous grin on my face.
Watching her makes me sad, too, because I will likely never have her and not be able to physically express what I feel for her. Even more sadly, she seems to have fucked herself up with ugly tattoos and hair. Look at that sad expression in her face. That self-destruction breaks my heart. Breaks my heart because I could never love her after she did this to herself. Breaks my heart, because she is no longer worthy of my love and desire – but would have easily been, had she not thrown it away. Now all I feel is pity. What happened to her? Did she lose herself in the relentless black void of existence? Lindy West disease?
What I want is simple feminine beauty. Nothing extravagant. A welcoming smile from a mouth that would enjoy taking care of my cock and submit to all my dirty fantasies.
I do not want her to be too meager. I do not want to see too many angular features. I want her to have just a tiny amount of fatty tissue to cover up the bones and provide some fleshy grip and a soft tissue to spread my cum on. Tissue that will lightly wobble while I fuck her in her dirty little ass. Without flesh, there is no fleshly pleasure.
I do not want to have to be a total dick to her. Not because that is not a part of my personality, but because I do not want to be forcing it all the time. Neither do I want to be nice and careful all the time. She either likes and wants me as I am or she goes. Why waste my time with a girl that does not appreciate me as I am? Why waste my time with a girl that considers my wish to take her an offense or my wish to love her as weakness? I am better off on my own.
She should also be around a head shorter than me so that I can handle and carry her well and feel strong around her (I am 6 feet tall).
Not something skewed up
Seriously. I do not want a fitness freak or business woman or an educated one. I do not want a woman who will boss me around or who can and wants to engage in intellectual discussions.
To prove to myself that I am manly enough to be even stronger than such a woman? To man up? To prove I do not feel threatened? But that is tiresome. I do not need to prove that to myself. What for? Whom for? I just want to enjoy my life with someone who wants the same.
The beauty ideal is less about the ideal woman than about the ideal man society wants you to be. A man who will worship.
I do not need the best woman or the most desired woman. I do not want a woman as a status symbol. You want those 10s with almost alien qualities? You can have them, I do not give a fuck. Leaves all the cute ones for me.
When I was in Iquitos in Peru, the streets were full of little indigenous looking chicks who gave me submissive smiles as I proudly passed by. There were many of them, but I only need one. What is the point of having many when I have just what I want in one? What is the point of that kind of redundancy?
Having many women was only ever a wish to satisfy some kind of ideal of a player. A wish for approval. Of mommy? Of women in general? Or simply to compensate that I did not really want any kind of with any of them, so the quantity would have to make up for the quality. Which is, by the way, just what I hear from those who have played the game for some time.
I do not want the relationship to be anything special. I do not want us to be each other saviors. There is no tragedy to be saved from. I just want to be a man who wants to fall in love with a sweet woman and her to be a sweet woman who wants to fall in love with a man. The most natural thing on earth. It could be any of a million women that fit these criteria, but I only need one. There is no the one.
I am no longer in danger of one-itis, I hope. Because those girls never were the one. There was the one in my life that I saw in all of them.
My mother was the one. The one that I never managed to get real love from. Had she not rejected me, she would not have become the one. She made herself special through hurting me. I am no longer interested in being hurt. I ended that shit.
There is no the one. But every one is special.
Today, we seem to not like women that are attractive. We like women that are majestic.
We do not seek women for ourselves. We seek rulers. Mistresses that command us and our attention.
We seek majestic faces meant to be worshipped and obeyed, but not to be loved. For a face that commands must be strong. But a face that is to be desired by a man must be meek.
The trend of the arrogant meager model surely correlates with the symptom of feminism (the dyke movement that has nothing to do with femininity) and the projection of male features into women: Leadership, short hair, angular faces, arrogance, pride, sexual aggression.
Not that the majestic woman is notor okay. But I do not find her desirable. She fits the rare man that really wants to be dominated – if he exists.
Could I take her anyway and ignore it? Yes, but why would I? To be a good person? To prove that I can see past the surface? But what for? I do not have to prove anything.
Does it make me a bad person if I choose a woman whom I really want?
But indeed, having a majestic face is a form of tragedy on its own. Her face is her prison. A feminine smile and lipstick on a majestic face will only heighten the sense of confusion and make her look like a predator. Her tragedy is similar to the one of a tall woman. A double bind like the evolutionary double bind:
Bateson used the fictional Bread and Butter Fly (from Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There) to illustrate the double bind in terms of natural selection. The gnat points out that the insect would be doomed if he found his food (which would dissolve his own head), and starve if he did not. Alice suggests that this must happen quite often, to which the gnat replies “it always happens”.
If she chooses to act cute and feminine, it will not fit her. If she chooses to be arrogant, it will make her only so much more undesirable.
All she can hope for is a stronger or taller man.
But that does not have to be my choice.
I do not want a majesty in my house. I want a girl.