The Eternal Return

skyline_vancouver_british_columbia_canada_photo_wikipedia-thom_quineAs a result of posts like this one and this one, Folks have recently asked me: “Boxer, how do you get all these bitches to come back to you?”

It’s simple, really. If a ho’ wants to leave, I let her go. No tears, no begging, no drama. The most she gets out of me is “So long and good luck!”

It has been my experience that in about half of such cases. The bitch does not actually want to leave. What she wants is to present the illusion that she’s leaving, to goad or scare a brother into doing what she wants him to do.

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I honestly don’t remember what this particular skank-ho wanted, about six weeks ago. Maybe she wanted to be exclusive. Maybe she wanted to move in. Maybe she wanted me to take her out to a fancy place. All of these ploys have been tried on ya boy Boxer, countless times. This scenario plays out with such regularity, and I’m so thoroughly used to it, that I just go off a well-worn script and don’t bother paying attention to the details.

Skank-ho left, sure in the knowledge that I’d start pining away for the lost privilege of penetration. In reality, what often happens is that less than ten minutes after skank-ho hits the bricks, I have replaced her with an alternate, and my life goes on uninterrupted.

Sometimes the alternate is cuter, and sometimes she’s not. Sometimes she’s better as she’s down on all fours, and sometimes she isn’t. What is always true is that the new bitch has yet to bore me with these pathetic theatrics. What is also always true is that it is merely a matter of time before the new bitch becomes the old bitch, and feels comfortable (and entitled) enough to trot out her own list of demands in exchange for the use of her body. Rinse and repeat.

In the interim, skank-ho waits for me to fold. She waits and waits, her confidence growing ever shakier. She has a tinder fling or three, with men who treat her with even less courtesy than I do. Eventually, it is she who breaks. She sends me a “wat up” message.

I’m always polite, but I never behave the way they want me to, and so life goes on, and it never enters the dumb cunt’s dim peanut brain that if she had just been honest about what she wanted, perhaps I’d still retain a minimal sliver of respect for her.

Author: Boxer

Secret King of all Gamma Males, Member of Frankfurt School, Your Fave Contrarian!

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