‘Oh gosh, I hope she doesn’t notice me’
I said recently that hate, was a far more useful emotion in getting over someone, than when for example, you have to deal with guilt at the same time. This still stands true & that guilt, was the central cause of how I felt earlier in the year. Looking back, it was devastating but as with everything, has ultimately made me stronger.
The last couple of days have been very unusual for me. Coming back here, collecting my things & so on, was quite an emotional experience. I messaged & emailed The Mexican, with absolutely no response at all.
Looking back at those actions I took, I acted rashly. As with trading, any decision made in the throes of emotion is usually the wrong one. There will be a trigger, a person or circumstance that will initiate a emotive action, which once calmed, you’ll realise was the wrong one.
My recent one was placing a huge bet while my team was losing, for the score to remain the same. My (emotive) thinking was that if I had to suffer the ignominy of watching my team lose to a team they should clearly be beating, at the very least I’d make some money. There wasn’t much time left so the odds were short.
What happened? My team equalized (still a shit result) & I lost a large sum of money. I came back here, adjusting to the new routine of being alone, felt weakness, propositioned her that now everything was out, we could make a fresh start.
Two days later, I’ve thought about her & wondered to myself why the fuck I did anything of the sort. As I said long ago, I often thought about if how I was acting when we were apart (circa eighteen months ago) was immoral. I may have banged a whole bunch of women, but frankly, barely any of them meant anything to me. I was just succumbing to my most base carnal instinct as a man. I needed that.
She fucked her ex, & gave the excuse I wasn’t being a good boyfriend. And that justified her to fuck her ex. What a crock of shit.
I found the pictures on her laptop one day. I saw the whole scene develop through the medium of photographs, as she dressed somewhat provocatively, played up on the camera as they drank champagne in the park & ultimately, as the frequency of the photos reduced, here getting more & more drunk, to the point of her fucking her ex.
To be honest, it’s true I wasn’t a great boyfriend then. I think I was even still banging EEP. But none of these reasons justifies those actions. For all she knew, I was the entirely faithful boyfriend. Nothing is a justification for fucking someone else. You do it because you want to. She should have just broke up with me. She did this after fucking him (presumably out of guilt, although perhaps being fucked badly ‘opened her eyes about us’ or some shit).
Then I, having no idea about what had happened, practically begged her to be with me again! She thought we could ‘try again’ & so we got back together again, me entirely unaware as to what had transpired.
She broke up with me at Christmas time, which was funny because I was banging the White Russian in my apartment, had to go downstairs to answer the phone privately, tell her if that was her decision then I’m not going to change her mind, & then went back upstairs to continue banging.
Funnily enough, that’s the second time that’s happened to me in my life. The first time it happened when I was at my first university (oh, how I wish I would have started that blog back then!), the girl called me back to ensure I’d understood, after which I again went back upstairs to banging the other girl.
The girl who finished with me when this first happened to me, then carried on fucking on & off, for the next almost ten years. She only stopped being in contact with me last year. Some women really are a fucking joke sometimes.
If I could give one piece of advise to any young man, it’s this. There are good women out there. If a girl falls in love with you, don’t be brazen or flippant about it because they’ll probably do anything for you.
But if you have doubts, or a feeling something is going on, or you note they’re acting even slightly differently, whatever you’re thinking probably has truth to it. It’s then you have to let the woman play it out. Don’t dig. Don’t act like you give a shit. Just being normal, a little colder perhaps. They’ll eat themselves up.
If a girl breaks up with you, even if you’re fucking devastated inside, don’t show even a trace of emotion. Just say ‘OK, ‘understood’ or similar. From that point on, you owe that woman nothing at all. Continue with your life, however you wish it to be (banging other women or pursuing better interests) & pay no heed to whatever they do. That person no longer deserve you & must earn your favour again, should they ever want anything from you again.
The time might have some variance but I guarantee you; they’ll be in touch again. Then you can do whatever brings you more satisfaction; fuck them, fuck them about, get back with them or my personal favourite, tell them how fucking great your life is.
A man who puts his ability to love, create, give & protect into himself is a truly powerful & terrifying thing. The confidence & ability, as well as the material gains, make lesser man desire their fall from grace, makes women want to prove no man can be greater than them (look at how many women love fucking married men, to justify their cynical attitudes about men generally) & generally makes them envied; sometimes to the point of hatred.
To love yourself as a man, is the most powerful thing you can do. Do it.
The Mexican used to regularly claim she loved me from the day we met. But yet she had a boyfriend (the aforementioned ex, who she’d cheated on two or three times already) & crucially, made the conscious decision to meet with a French guy, which she got massively drunk with & then had sex with.
I found the pictures of all of them. The ex is a total muppet. The two French guys she met (yes, there was her & two French guys in the photo), were also useless cunts. She was riding on a wave up until then, of being in a massively male dominated environment, all of whom were socially inadequate dickheads, desiring the girl with the big fake breasts. She was on a crest of being the desired girl in the office, riding her way through a series of terrible lays with those who got drunk enough with her to gain the balls to make a move. She even admitted to me that almost all of the sex she’d had in her life was shit, & given her utterly terrible bedrooms skills & never had an proper orgasm with a man in her life, I find this entirely believable. Much in the same way she desired to be the centre of attention on her beloved social media, the main attraction of sex for her, was the desire of the man to fuck her.
I don’t think she fucked both the French guys on the day she ‘fell in love with me’. She did one for sure (bad enough) but she made the decision to meet them in the first place. I don’t doubt for a second she loved the attention from both of them, especially as we’d kissed earlier that day. When I was considering breaking up with her to be with Venezuelan before the recent fallout, I took the time to take copies of the day she fucked her ex, & the two pictures of her posing with the two French guys. I also had a couple of pictures of her she’d asked me to take of her, wearing her small black dress. She looked very satisfied with herself in that picture, & also in the pictures with the French guys. What a great day for her.
I also found a sex video we’d made, purely coincidentally the first time we’d had sex after we’d got back together & she’d fucked her ex. Perfectly, you can see her conflicted between her enjoying being fucked but also struggling a bit with the idea she had become a bit of a whore, as she fucked me a mere week or so after her ex. No doubt in some way she loved that too though.
She told me the day after she fucked the French dude, she was so disgusted with herself she showered for a couple of hours & cut her hair.
Good. Fucking good.
With genuine clarity of vision now, I can say wholeheartedly; I don’t regret a thing I did to her. She deserved everything she got.
I truly believe everything happens for a reason. I don’t think she’s a bad person, but she got a little too arrogant. Thought she was the real shit. Being with me, she thought I’d be one of these pussy ass bitches who would think she’s the hottest thing to ever enter my life. Perhaps in the beginning I still was a little.
But I went to central Europe & realised what was really possible in life. I discovered myself, learnt, empowered myself & took full advantage of it. I concentrated on myself. I had many experiences, & instead of being in relationship after relationship as we are constantly told we should be, I went my own way & had sexual experiences that were quite frankly, incredible for the most part. This was an important phase in my life I had to undergo & at no point, would I make excuses for my actions. Even in the final email to The Mexican, I made admissions without any excuse other than sexual addiction (which I genuinely think I have had at times).
She met me, someone she couldn’t control. The steady stream of office parasites & drunk idiots continued their stream of attention towards her, which she always needed in some form. But they were of their own undoing; as with many people these days, they become competent in one area & become complacent. I am strong. I am smart. I am rich. I am an artist. The stupid among us are those who believe they are complete, & each of these self catagorisations carries with it a stereotype, that, if you wish to place this role upon yourself, you are expected to fulfill that too. The artist has no love for sport. The muscular guy is content to be seen as unintelligent & so on.
I am multi faceted, because I never waver in my pursuit of self improvement. I may have been distracted or confused, but this has always existed in some way & as time went on, she realised I was not of the usual stock. As each situation was concluded, she noted my strength. Even during the meltdown of April, by then I had already built up value in her mind to overcome me telling her I fucked someone else.
I remember the day she was asking me about BM-13. At the time, the words split out of my mouth. I almost reveled in telling her I’d also fucked someone. Almost sickeningly as I think back to it, I wanted to see her reaction from me doing exactly what she had done to me. It was almost satisfying knowing how I handled it, was far superior to her handling it.
Now, she’ll probably fuck a few guys & then get together with the parasite. She’ll pretend she’s happy & he won’t believe his luck. But in reality, she’ll never forget me & only stay with him because he’s the ‘safe option’. He’ll be shit in bed & she won’t mind, but ultimately it will be the same as French Algerian – she’ll cheat on him one day.
And trust me when I say, no matter what, one day she’ll get back in touch with me. It might take years of marriage, kids, a divorce even. But she will. And when she does, I’ll suggest having a bottle of champagne in the park, going to a bar & then back to my place.
And I’ll enjoy every second of fucking the shit out of her. Watching her adore every second of it. Knowing all the while how the parasite is back at home, wondering where his ‘love’ is tonight.
This is the last time I’ll write about The Mexican. Now, a new chapter begins.
Addendum: I read this post back to myself the morning after I wrote it. I realised it is full of hate & much of it justified. But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t loved The Mexican. In fact, once she’d absolved her own guilt & we’d moved in again, things were actually pretty nice. Plus I do regret that she found out as she did; but then perhaps I would have still been too cowardly to make a decision even now. In any case, although much of what I’ve written I do believe wholeheartedly, those two points are still pertinent. I guess it’s just part of getting over someone.