It’s still weird knowing what I’m doing in life. I’ve not really sat down and thought about things recently and it feels like Christmas was about three months ago. I suspect that’s because of the learning curve at work.

The other day I was in the shower just enjoying the hot water and mulling things over and needling myself over not  having sorted out driving lessons yet. Then it occurred to me that I only decided to have them about a month ago and that the plan was, and is, to take a week off and do the whole driving course in that week once things have settled down. So in a month or two I’ll be in a place to actually take that week off and do the course.

Then the other thing that’s playing on my mind is something that I think is an inherent part of my nature that I’ve obviously been suppressing for however long. Jordan Peterson talks about when you’re at the bottom of the social hierarchy and just clinging on you make yourself innocuous and harmless so that other people leave you alone and you become too agreeable.

I’m in this weird place where I can’t quite communicate what’s going on with the precision and clarity that I would like. The sort of quick and dirty version is that there’s something  up with my sexuality. I’m getting more and more dominant and I think that’s because I’m getting more and more confident in life generally and a whole load of stuff which I suppressed when I was just hanging on at that stage of my life dominated by depression and self-loathing.

Now, in fairness, there’s always been something. S and I can have some pretty rough sex but I feel like over the past three years this dominance is  really accelerating. This all started with India’s second boxing match. We were out in the crowd before her fight, the room was hot and the air was sweat laden. She’s maybe 5’1, 5’2 at most, she’s tiny and athletically built, she’s much, much smaller than me. We were watching her friend’s fight and India was getting worked up, she was yelling and shouting, the aggression was obviously flowing in her.

I found myself standing behind her looking over her body, noting how the light sheen of sweat made it glisten, taking in her passionate mood, and I could feel myself starting to pant. There was this enormous feeling of power and strength, an edge of aggression as I’m now fully checking out her body and she’s only wearing a pair of shorts and a sleeveless top. I could smell her scent, feel her body heat and all I could think about was ripping her clothes off, holding her down and fucking her. Not in an angry, hurtful way, but definitely in a way which showed her who’s boss. I didn’t want her to be afraid, I didn’t want to hurt her, in fact there was a powerfully protective if possessive element to it, but I wanted her to feel dominated. I’m quite metacognitive, I’m used to watching my thoughts as if I’m a distant observer, I was aware that I’m hard, I’m panting, I’m keyed up, that all I’m thinking about is the physical feeling of thrusting inside her and it was……I won’t say that the feeling was overwhelming because I didn’t actually rip her clothes off, hold her down and fuck her, but it was one of the most intense feelings of my life. I don’t think that I’ve even felt that way about Dakota, more of which later.

So, fast forward eighteen-months-ish, and admittedly I’d been doing the no fap thing for about a month, but I’m in the coffee shop flirting with, I think I called her EY. We’d been flirting for months, she used to hang out in the same pub as me so we’d seen each other a little outside of work hours and it was getting to the point where it seemed that the natural thing to do was to ask her out for a drink. There I am waiting for my cappuccino and I’m watching her make it and again one’s metacognition came into play and, this in my blog somewhere, but this imperious, confident, voice popped in my head and said something like, “She’s just a piece of meat to fuck your cum into”.

Now, the curious thing about this is that I was aware that there was, like, three layers of cognition going on at the same time. There’s the layer that likes EY as a person and realises all her good qualities and is busily not regarding her a sex object, engaging her in conversation and waiting for my coffee like a normal human being, there’s the metacognitive me and there’s this voice. I mean, it’s my voice, it’s the voice…..

Ah, epiphany; it’s the same voice that tells me that I’m shit and useless when I’m depressed. That’s……, which is pretty much the reaction that the metacognitive layer and the me (?) layer had. It was a real moment of “Where did that come from?” because it was new and it had never happened before and it was so direct and confident.

Skip a few months down the line and I’m laying in bed thinking about BM and I started fantasising about her and what came out also got recorded in this blog and it was basically a fantasy of her telling me to fuck her while fighting me off every time I tried to do so resulting in me slapping her, pinning her and fucking her.

I can’t say that any of this makes me all that comfortable. Partly it’s wondering where the hell its come from and why all of a sudden it’s manifesting itself now and partly that it’s not something that I would necessarily choose to have as part of myself; it feels dangerous, it’s like waking up and finding yourself sitting on top of a mustang. Often as a man you come across men who flat out perve on women; a woman walks past and they have no compunction about making some absolutely objectifying remark, “I bet she loves it up the arse” “I’d give that one” which normally I find repugnant, so for my brain to suddenly come out with, “She’s just a piece of meat to fuck your cum into” is disconcerting to say the least.

The only comfort I get in this is the fact that so many women I’ve talked to want men that want to dominate them and that this new dominant streak seems to apply only to women I actually know; I’m not looking at random women in the street this way. Except Dakota, although, thinking about it, I think that last time I saw her I was having some pretty dominant thoughts, so, maybe even including her.

So much for my inability to find my Jungian shadow…….. I pretty much plan to explore it and see if I can’t usefully integrate it into myself.





I don’t seem to care about rejection. Over the past few weeks I’ve been busy talking to women like mad and I’ve got a fair few knockbacks, as is to be expected, but recently I find that I’m waiting for a negative reaction in myself, some feeling of embarrassment or disappointment or pain and there’s none.

I’ve gone from seeing Dakota as the centre of the universe with a few other women as alternatives to seeing a universe stocked with limitless women and if one says no then I shrug my shoulders and move on to the next one. Nothing phases me anymore. If I’m talking to a woman on tinder and she isn’t making the right noises I just unmatch her. If she’s not what I want then why would I talk to her?

I’m actually starting to wonder if this isn’t a long hypomanic episode except that I don’t feel hypomanic, I feel settled and centred. I’m sleeping better too.

The last couple of weeks have been really interesting for introspective/self-absorbed little me. I feel this strength and confidence and dominance building. My sexual fantasies have changed, the way I interact with women is changing. Internally I can see big changes in the way I think.

It’s bizarre. I’ll be chatting with V, who I’ve been chatting to for months as I get coffee, and half my brain is looking at her as a person with thoughts and feelings and admiring her personality and just enjoying the interaction but then, simultaneously,  half of my brain just sees a piece of meat to impregnate and this is new. It’s not that I haven’t thought about sex with her before, she has nice boobs and is that kind of chubby that somehow is quite sexy, and she’s just generally cute, but the desire to dominate her wasn’t there. It was a sort of, “Sex with her would be really good” rather than “I’m going to fuck her” type feeling.

Thinking about it now I wonder if this isn’t my whole problem: I just haven’t been aggressive enough with women. My newfound aggressiveness has already paid off, in fact. Let’s call her GB and I’m sort of grinning from ear to ear about her: She’s German, lives not far away, appreciates directness and honesty, and is gorgeous: the kind of woman that men stop and stare at. So we’ve met online, she’s verified so I know that she’s a real person, plus I’m a good enough of a linguist to know female language when I see it.

I sent her a message which was both long and ballsy. Literally ballsy by the looks of it and her response was literally, “Wow” and she’s sent a couple of quite warm and enthusiastic messages so I’m feeling quite proud and smug at the moment. Suffice to say that when you move from “it would be nice” to “I’m going to” then things start happening. So I’m asking out V tomorrow and I’m going to fuck her over the weekend.


So let’s not say that I’ve stopped masturbating, but I don’t let myself cum. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this up, I can’t say that it feels like a challenge to keep this up. The effects are interesting though, my breast fantasies are totally gone and I feel myself becoming more confident, more dominant, my thoughts have switched from Dakota to BM.

I was laying in bed earlier thinking about her and the fantasy I was having shocked me as I was having it. We’re in the bar where she works and we see each other. She shoots me that scornful glance as she walks by and this triggers me and I wait for her to come back.

As she does I grab her by her hair and I pull her in close to me. “What the fuck do you want?” she says. There’s not a hint of fear in her, she’s aggressive, she looks at me in an almost hateful way. “I’m here for you, I’m making you mine”. “Fuck off”. I kiss her. It’s wild and passionate and I feel her body relax a little but the grip on my hand is still firm.

I push her towards the door, but I sort of feel that I’m being led. Once through we’re alone in the kitchen. I try to kiss her again but she pulls back and spits in my face. “I know how to handle bitches like you” I growl at her and she flashes her teeth “Oh, you think you can handle me, now”. I thrust my hand between her legs and up her skirt, her thighs are wet. She’s still looking at me scornfully as she tries to pull away, but I pull her in and force her to kiss me. She bites my lip and holds it, we’re both panting now, I’m rubbing her pussy, our eyes locked, her nails digging into my arm for a moment I feel her relax and submit.

Running her hands over her body, she begins to hitch her dress up, I sense her body wiggle as she takes her panties off, the tension drops off, she lets go of my lip and her kisses soften. I lift her onto the counter and spread her legs and her intoxicating scent fills the room but she still has that look in her eye, spiteful, scornful, aggressive.

She slaps me and pushes me away. “You think I’m just going to give it to you?” I move in again and again she slaps me and pushes me away, “Take it. You want it. Take it. I’m not just going to give it to you”. Provocatively she spreads her legs wide, and smiles at me, the first smile she’s given me as she theatrically starts to play with her pussy, reveling in my reaction, she knows that I’m on the edge as it is and I could lose control at any moment.

She tries to slap me again but I grab her wrist. She struggles  against me, spits at me, growls at me, “Come and take it!” as I pin her to the wall and slap her and she tries to bite me. She relents a little as I get my cock out and for a moment we gaze into each other’s eyes, both panting heavily, her huge chest heaving and I can’t hold out anymore, I thrust right into her grabbing hold of her tightly. Her legs wrap around me, I feel her pulling me in as her arms also wrap around me. All I’m conscious of is her, the scorching heat and wetness of her pussy, her panting in my ear, her breasts pressed against me.

I struggle so hard not to cum and I’m totally on the edge as she grinds hard against me. “I need you” I blurt out. “I’m here, I’m here” she softly pants. “I’m going to cum” I moan as I try to pull out. I feel her nails in my back, digging in, her thighs tensing against my body. “Cum in me. Cum in me or I’ll never be yours. Make me yours, cum in me. It’s what you want. Show me that you know how to handle a bitch like me” she growls aggressively. This sends me over the edge and I lose all control. I can feel my cum rushing through my cock and shooting into her and just at that moment I feel her whole body tense and she buries her head in my shoulder to muffle her moans so that none of the other staff hear.

She relaxes, I look into her eyes, they’re almost pleading. I stroke her face softly, I kiss her forehead, we exchange a few soft kisses. Everything is so tender now. She’s stroking my back and for the first time I start to gently play with her massive breasts. “You’re always looking at them” she smiles so softly. I bury my face in her cleavage, she kisses my forehead as she takes one out and instinctively I begin to suckle and she moans a little. “You’re mine now” she sighs.


I find this hard to write for reasons I might explain at the end. Trigger warnings for perversion, TMI, etc.

So Tuesday drinking happened as normal, not sure what’s happening with Dakota, i.e when she’s back from uni, seeing Rogue One, etc. I assume that’ll happen next week.

BM was working, the bar was rammed and at first I didn’t notice her until, and I’m not sure how I feel about myself for this, but I noticed this huge pair of boobs bouncing down the stairs. BM has a habit of running up and down the stairs and since my usual spot is on the sofa side onto the stairs I see her running up and down quite a lot. Needless to say that when you have huge boobs and you run up and down stairs they jiggle around a lot and needless to say one’s mammary obsession and general maleness ensures that the processing power of one’s wetware is immediately and almost exclusively, save for basic homeostasis, devoted to said motion the moment it is detected.

We didn’t really talk, she was too busy and obviously tired and stressed. I did speak to her, briefly just to ask if she was okay and I bought her a jagerbomb and she smiled with that cheeky smile. Then as I was leaving I opened my arms to hug her and she dived underneath and vanished around the corner, which I laughed about. When she’s working she’s always in a very focused mindset. When she’s at work, she’s at work and it’s only when there’s nothing to do that she’ll come and flirt or talk.

Speaking of talking: I’ve taken to going in on a Thursday and Friday morning for breakfast because my chances of getting a lunch break on either day are somewhere around nil. Partly this is my fault since I seem to be a selective workaholic: when I’ve started on a task I work through until it’s done and actually if I have two tasks then I’d rather complete them both and then go for lunch than go for lunch and get out of my little zone. I suppose BM and I share that kind of attitude. Curious. So it makes sense to go for a large breakfast because that will carry me through the day and on a Friday it gives me a chance to see her when I’m alone and the pub is quiet.

Of course, I went for breakfast today and she was pottering about and I always make something of a point to not disturb her if she’s obviously busy, I think that giving her space is important also because I don’t want to be creepy or obviously into her too much. I’m just a customer in for breakfast and if she wants to talk or there’s a need to talk then we do. Frequent readers will know that this usually takes the form of banter and flirting but recently things are now shifting over to just talking, which I regard as progress because we’re now taking each other seriously.

So she was pottering about and she cleans the table next to mine: I’m reading The Times on my phone and she says, “You’re in early again” and I explained how I have no time for lunch so a big breakfast is better for me, “Fair enough”. I asked how she was and I know that they have her working all hours, she looks so tired recently. Turns out that she was working last night and was meant to have this morning off, which means that she’s been in since 6am and I assume that, as with last week, she’s not really getting much sleep. She said that she was pissed off and tempted to walk out.

My current plan is therefore to just keep going for breakfast and keep having little conversations to build some common ground rather than just asking her out outright. I think that if we get to know each other a bit more and that I’m interested in how she is and in her as a person that things will eventually reach a point where going for a drink will be natural.

In related news I was around at Gman’s house dropping off presents for his little ones, he’s just acquired a new one, a daughter, as in literally acquired since they’re adopting again, and so it was the first time I’ve seen her. Mr and Mrs Gman managed to get them off to sleep and then she went out to see her mum which left Gman and I in the house with enough wine to drown a small african country. Leaving us in charge is always a recipe for chaos and sure enough I was soon updating him on the BM situation.

It has come to our attention that few things in life get more female approval than children and we have two of them. “So you go for breakfast every week?” “Yeah” “How about I bring one of the kids? She gets to see you with children which women always love, Mrs Gman gets a bit of a break since she’s been having both of them since I went back to work and I get to spend time with my best mate”. Genius. Especially since feeding duties often devolve onto me since sprog number one rather likes me. This is an understatement: My arrival is always greeted with positive jubilation and often when it comes to lunch he refuses to be fed by Gman and demands that I do it.

I admit that there is a certain amount of low cunning here, but I figure that all is fair in love and war and, actually, we’ve been in there before with sprog one many times so it’s not entirely a ruse de guerre.


I find this hard to write because for some reason – and I think this is to do with the fact that I’ve been taking vitamin C tablets which contain zinc, which boosts testosterone – I am outrageously horny and have been for a couple of weeks. S got a very white Christmas. Everything went to shit: I was meant to see her today but family commitments ruined that so she decided that we’d meet up last night, only I was out with C until late so nothing happened until about 2am before anything happened.

Fortunately she has the top floor of the house to herself which meant going up three flights of stairs which seems simple until you realise that I’m not very good at keeping my hands off her, so it was a case of me always trying to touch and her swatting my hands away. Eventually we got into her room and we had a cuddle, by which I mean that I buried my face in her cleavage and found this so calming that I went completely dopey. The stroking and the little kisses didn’t help. S managed to get us onto the bed after some maneuvering, clothes came off, breasts were liberated and I had my first long suckle in months, during which I nearly fell asleep. This happens.

The next thing I know I get slapped and she says, “Oi, I need to be fucked” to which I wasn’t entirely responsive. I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t my finest moment of sexual performance. The next thing I know my cock is getting hot and wet and I realised I’m getting a blow job and a pretty amazing one. That woke me up. I guided her to the edge of the bed and she knew what I wanted. She got on her knees and wrapped her breasts around my cock and they were so soft and warm and she was cooing at me like, “I know what you want, I’m going to give you everything and be so good to you” and that was like a trip wire.

I pushed her on her back, buried my face in her pussy and started licking. I love licking S because she’s very responsive and kind of dominant so she doesn’t just lay there like a fish, I know if I’m doing a good job or not. Plus there’s just something I love about having a face full of pussy, the wetness, the heat, the smell especially. Turns out that I wasn’t doing a good job, “Don’t lick me like a girl, I’ve been licked by girls for months, I need a man”. Dear reader, I was very not happy. So I pretty much threw her on the bed. She tried sitting up so I pushed her back down, I bit her inner thigh gently and then licked her clit like a wild thing, shoved my fingers right into her, everything. There was nothing gentle about it. Then I knew I was doing something right because she shut up and just grabbed my head and I could feel her body tensing and then relaxing, tensing, relaxing, and she started writhing.

By now I was ravenous. I flipped her over, she tried getting up again, I pushed her back down again and then realised that this, while enormously satisfying, was not going to work anatomically, so I ended up picking her back up again. The next, however long it lasted, was pretty rough: I pretty much just grabbed her shoulders and started slam fucking her.

I was like, “Is this what you want?” and she said nothing, which I always take as a good sign, so I asked her again and she still didn’t respond, so I slapped her arse and told her to answer me and I got a kind of “gyah” sound out of her. I got bored of doggy, flipped her over, put her legs over my shoulders and went in again, just as rough as before and she sort of just reached out to me briefly before just laying back and taking it. So I slapped her arse again and she totally came back to life. I put her legs down, we got into missionary and we were sort of back to being sort sensual because I was trying to pace myself. That lasted for a while until she suddenly said, “You can spunk on face if you want” “Do you want me to?” “Yes, spunk on my face” “I don’t think you want it” “Fucking spunk on my face” “You want it?” “I want it, give it to me” and this was all done rather aggressively and I totally lost control at this point and started fucking the shit out of her and then she growls at me “Call me a slut” so I called her a slut, she went into some patter about looking after me and then went quiet, her body tensed up, she started panting, gave one big grown and then relaxed and started telling me to spunk on her face…… I did.



Fun, fun, fun.

Women are predictable. I semi-expect this to happen with Coffee at some point, the person, not the drink. So we met a while back and stuff almost happened and we sort of didn’t in contact because neither of us were all that sure that her boyfriend would be happy about it.

I’m minding my own, in my own bed, and I get a message on facefuck and a conversation develops which ends in “all my housemates have gone home for xmas, would you like to come over?”.  I roll onto my back and contemplate this, mostly contemplating the “what about your boyfriend?” which is a question that should be contemplated but never asked in the same way that if you want sex you should probably never talk about it directly. I figure that her bf is her problem, “Yeah, cool, I’ll be about an hour”.

Shit, shave, shower, shampoo, bowl of soup, mug of tea, train, black cab, knock on door, total elapsed time: one hour fourteen minutes. She comes to the door in blue jeans, a white cable knit jumper and ridiculous bright pink socks that you could have walked across antarctica in. We exchange pleasantries, “Would you like tea?” No, actually if we could skip the tea and…. “Yes, please, just milk”. She’s formal, maybe even a bit standoffish, doesn’t seem happy or unhappy to see me. Nervous methinks.

I sit on the sofa and we chat pure nonsense about the weather, the night we met, other total irrelevances as she puts the kettle on. Tea is so important in British culture that apparently even casual sex cannot happen until it is made. So I’m sitting on the sofa, hands behind my head and I find myself with that scowl I make when I’m assessing the situation and her arse. Why am I actually here? Is this about sex or not? Maybe she just felt like having a chat. We’re still making small talk and I get up and I stand behind her as she pooters about and I start stroking her elbows. It’s not an erogenous zone so it’s reasonably safe to touch. She ignores it, which is always problematic.

Once, after leaving a female friends house after tea, three hours of chatting and a little elbow touching that got no response I got an angry text off her about wanting sex. “But you didn’t respond to my touching” I protested. “I wasn’t stopping you though, was I?” So I’m watching her body language, listening to the tone of her voice and I move my hands to her waist and then I hug her from behind for a moment she still doesn’t respond. Then she turns and we kiss and it’s a long lingering kiss before she leans into me a little, pressing her behind against my crotch. All tea making comes to a halt: anarchy in the UK.

I brush her chestnut hair away and start kissing her neck and the moment my lips touch she starts breathing really heavily and we kiss a few times. Eventually she does this thing that many women do: the panting escalates until she holds her breath and then she exhales and totally relaxes.  Her hand slides to my crotch and then she pushes me away, looks at me with a neutral expression and proceeds to make tea. I lean on the side with a raging hardon and watch her put the milk in, admiring her dedication to making tea in these most trying of circumstances.

Things then move to the sofa where precisely zero tea is actually consumed, no conversation is had because we’re too busy kissing. Me being me I started to feel her breasts and this prompted a flurry of activity to get the jumper off. Fortunately there was only a bra on underneath and that ended up on the floor moments later and I’m left with her rather small but amazingly pert breasts with the most beautiful chocolate nipples. I push her on her back and start kissing her neck and she’s panting like mad and the panting only gets more intense as I start sucking her nipples.

Suddenly she starts semi-frantically pushing me off and I wonder if something is wrong but then I realise that she’s pushing me onto my back and the next thing I know my belt is by her bra, she’s ripping my trousers down and sucking me off. Two things: why do women always feel the need to take the belt off, why can’t they just undo it? Second, oh my god did she know what she was doing and she was intense and passionate about it.

At that point a shit ton of testosterone kicked in and I pushed her off and asked her where her room was. Then there was that curious time in having sex where one has to take one’s shoes and socks off, that odd break which is always slightly awkward. Somehow by time I did this she was only down to her panties and I pretty much literally threw her on the bed, which got a delighted little scream and a giggle. I flipped her onto her back, ripped her panties off and chucked them across the room. Wet would be one adjective to describe her.Soaking would be another.

Either way I buried my face between her legs and started licking her with wild abandon, circling her clit one way, then the other, then flicking then plunging inside her. It seems to be that if you’re always changing the stimulation they never get used to it. Whatever the case it wasn’t long before her thighs were clamped around my head and I was nearly being suffocated and pretty soon she was left laying there on the bed pretty unresponsive, flushed and panting. Panting seems to be her thing. Then I told her that I was going to fuck her and she pointed towards the bedside cabinet and sure enough there were condoms in there.

I helped her onto all fours, grabbed her hips and started slowly fucking her, like really slowly and what a hot little pussy she has. Gradually I picked up the pace, asking her if she was comfortable, if this is what she wanted and eventually she just went quiet. By this time I’m playing with her clit, her nipples, fucking her, kissing her neck, doing everything I can to get her off and she’s panting like mad, her head is down, she’s grinding into me and she’s totally unresponsive. Then she goes mental, she starts grinding against me like mad, she made the only sound of the entire encounter which was something approaching a growl, so I grabbed her shoulders and basically just started ramming my cock into her at which point her head came back up and I could feel her whole body tensing until she held her breath for a few seconds and then basically face planted on the bed, rolled over and lay there – panting. I asked if she was okay, she just panted, didn’t even look at me.

Then suddenly it’s like woke up, she rolls over onto her side, pulls the condom off and starts sucking me again. Eventually I was pretty close so I politely informed her of the fact and she just kept on going so I came in her mouth and she swallowed. We cuddled up, chatted for a while and then I wanted more – I always want more and she was quite surprised. She climbed on top and rode me until we both came and she collapsed on me. I still wanted more, partly because of the hypomania and partly because I always want more so we went for missionary, twice.

By that time I had to leave to get my kit sorted for training.



First the bad. Last night was interesting. A friend of mine dropped into our drinks and he’s ex-army; cue lots of jokes about biscuits brown and desert socks. Unfortunately he also brought his gf who brought her gay friend who grabbed my crotch.

Now, all things being equal, I’d have perfunctorily decked the guy but it occurs to me that somehow there is a societal difference between a guy grabbing a woman’s crotch and a man grabbing a man’s crotch whereby if said woman decked said man she would be lauded but if man decked said other man he would be regarded as homophobic.

So no decking happened. Which I’m angry about. For some reason gay men hit on me with a certain regularity and I really don’t like it because they do it in this really crass, highly fucking presumptuous way and generally don’t understand the concept of no. Do I care that you have an eight inch dick? No. If a woman came up to me and tried getting sexual with me within five minutes of meeting me I’d be weirded out it, so when a guy does it I’m weirded out by it.

To be honest I’ve really fucking had it with this country because it seems to be that if you wear anything other than jeans and a t-shirt people assume that you’re gay. S talks about how common people are in the UK and how they have no standards, no class and no culture and this always hits home to me when women are like, “We think you’re gay because you’re carrying your jacket over your shoulder” and I try to be flirty but actually I’m thinking, “What a bunch of plebs”. Even Americans are more sophisticated than the average Brit.

In slightly more amusing news from last night Jboy told me that when I hugged BM last week there was a guy there who was very not happy about that, which made me laugh. I noticed that she was getting some attention off this guy last week, I’ve seen him try chatting her up before and he is a most crass and loud individual. In fact the last time I saw this she came over to my table, as in, mid-chatting up she totally blanked him and asked me if she could clear my table.

This seems rather prosaic since it is her job, but to put it in context she’d ignored me for about two months at this point and so this struck me as being out of the ordinary. Perhaps it is prosaic. One of the frustrating things about dealing with women is how often in my life I’ve been talking to a female friend about something that happened and their eyes suddenly light up. Usually this is followed by being called an idiot and I’m then informed that some apparently trivial thing actually has some kind of significance to a woman which results in deep analysis of trivialities.

As an aside I was wearing La Nuit de L’Homme which women absolutely love, as in they tend to bury their face in your neck when you hug them and it gets a lot of compliments. Actually one thing that I’ve noticed about Dakota is that she knows how I smell, as in, if I’m wearing something different she’ll comment on me changing my cologne.

So it occurs to me that I totally out alpha maled this guy because imagine this: You’re at a table with this woman that you like and you’re chatting her up for the umpteenth time. Then this other guy arrives at the bar, starts talking to her, buys her a drink, chats some more and sods off. He doesn’t even look at you. Then a while later he appears again at the bar and she buys him a drink and then she buys him another drink and he disappears again. Finally he shows up, hugs her and leaves. Like, how shot down would you feel? Here you are sitting and talking to her but the moment this guy rocks up all her attention is on him and he’s not even putting any effort in. He’s not hanging around trying to outcompete you, he just rocks up, gets a drink, gets a hug, doesn’t even give her any patter. He just talks to her!