The old lady in the photo above isn’t too terrible looking. She has a decent figure and a seemingly genuine smile. If I were to see her on the street, I would probably assume she was happily married.
Her name is Hagar Sides. She’s a sabra who now lives in the Atlanta, Georgia, area. She has a popular (and surprisingly thoughtful) blog, which often gets into relationship territory. Not surprisingly, she writes from the perspective of a radical feminist.
About a year ago, Mizz Sides wrote:
I’m a 38-year-old woman and I don’t want to be single anymore. I’m ready for a relationship, though I’m having a hard time figuring out the right way to go about it.
Wimminz always write nonsense like this, in a lame attempt to lie to themselves. In fact, Hagar knows exactly how to go about it. She just doesn’t want to go about it in the way every other cool female has done it up: by becoming the feminine subordinate that a quality man would select, based upon her ability to add value to his life.
Hagar is actually “having a hard time figuring out the right way” to become appealing wife material, while remaining a sarcastic, loud, immoral, feminist shrike. This is understandable, because those types of arrogant wimminz never attract or keep quality men.
I know that not all guys are jerks, just like I know that the sun will rise in the morning. However, not only is it difficult to put yourself out there, if a guy like this comes your way, all you want to do is give up on dating and crawl back into your comfort zone.
Mizz Sides is castigating a man she matched with on Tinder, who sent her a vulgar text. I have news for her, (and any other person who gets on Tinder, male or female,) and thinks that they’re going to have largely sensible conversations with normal people.
Tinder is the modern equivalent to the whorehouse, way out in the middle of nowhere, on the Alberta prairie, that my grandfather occasionally slipped away to. There was surely a place like this in Israel someplace, that Hagar’s own grandfather disappeared to on the occasional weekend. Then as now, expecting normal behavior in the whorehouse is unrealistic.
It’s not like my happiness depends on having or not having a man in my life.
And there we have it. This is an extremely common and ridiculous lie that wimminz tell themselves.
Bitch, if you’re happy being single, why do you spend hour after hour writing about how you wish you had a man? Why not get on with enjoying the single life?
The one thing wimminz hate more than becoming attractive mates is the fact that men don’t find them worth their time. This is a completely superfluous dillemma, and yet every feminist wimminz I have ever met has been trapped between its horns.
What happened to this old wimminz to bring her to this state? A visit to her earlier articles might give us a hint.
Admittedly, the title is both humorous and sensational. I’m making a note to use this as a pick-up line… because it’ll probably work. Let’s see what Mizz Sides can tell us…
People keep asking me, “How come you are still single?”
If only I had a penny every time I have been asked this question; I could buy a lot of things I want and don’t need.
A few years ago I didn’t want any relationship, and it took me a while to realize it and admit it, mostly to myself. I was dubious after a relationship that lasted several months but was full with emptiness, pain, betrayal (his), and I became my own shadow.
So, her man betrayed her. She doesn’t say how. Maybe he fucked some other wimminz, or maybe he just didn’t kiss her ass.
“Hagar!!! what’s wrong with you, I don’t know you like that. Down, lonely, not talking to your friends, ignoring all the warning signs. You have to get rid of him…” my best friend said.
Two days later, I kicked him out from my apartment and started a new journey.
Those of us who have been around divorced people know that wimminz often divorce in groups. First one wimminz will divorce her man, and then several of her friends, like magic, will somehow find a reason to divorce also. For those of you boys who have wondered about this phenomenon, Mizz Sides is giving you a candid look into the back end of it.
I just finished Master’s Degree, found the dream job, and moved to Tel Aviv.
I had a blast in Tel Aviv; I worked hard, I traveled, I went out, drank, danced, laughed a lot. I met new people, and new guys. I had casual sex. I enjoyed every minute.
Now that she’s crowning forty, Mizz Sides is desperate to find a man (even though she doesn’t want to change anything about her degenerate lifestyle, and even though finding a man won’t make her any happier than she already is, etc.) Back in the day, when she was young and hot, finding a man wasn’t much of a priority.
I wonder what changed?
After a crazy year in Tel Aviv, I went back to my parents’ house in the suburbs.
When I left Tel Aviv I thought the world would end. Looking back, leaving Tel Aviv was one of the best thing that ever happened to me.
“I think it’s time to meet someone” I said to my friend.
“Get inside Tinder, sure you’ll find someone” he said.
“Tinder?” I replied with question mark on my face.
He downloads the app to my phone, explained to me how it works, and sent me on my way.
Tinder is not the place to find a spouse. It’s a place to find a prostitute. Most of the men on Tinder are men like me. No matter how attractive or feminine you are, we won’t marry you anyway.
So, how has all of this worked out?
In one sense, it’s fun to make fun, and Mizz Sides is perfectly mockable; but there’s a lot to learn from her article. Wimminz excuse their poor choices by repainting them as shit that “just happened,” or stuff they were compelled to do by fate or circumstance.
Mizz Sides is now forty years old, and has never managed to attract or keep a man. My guess is that she was very attractive as a 20-year old girl. I also must assume that she mocked and dumped all the eligible boys that came calling, choosing instead to waste time chasing academic degrees and short term flings with unfaithful thugs.
The good news for Hagar is that it’s not too late. She’s still better looking than ~90% of all the 40-year old skanks in Atlanta. She can probably land a decent man, in his fifties, with little trouble.
She just has to shitcan the feminist entitlement complex, humble herself, and convincingly pretend she has never, ever been on Tinder. And that’s the bad news, because she won’t.
Read her articles in full, and let me know what you think in the comments: