I just read the entire book cover to cover in just under a 12 hour period. I love it until about the last 30 pages. It was ridiculously funny in that I wonder why anyone would do this, and how did this kid get so messed up kinda way. It was disturbing that it was written by a 30 some odd year old attorney. I also wanted a woman to put him in his place. I can't see why anyone would worship this guy. Strike that, I can't see why anyone of average intelligence would worship this guy. But I suppose that leaves about 50% of the population which is more than enough to make a best seller out of any ludicrous chain of stories.
I have had my fair share of debauchery. But never so blatantly and disrespectfully. I know everything this guy knows, anyone can spot the most insecure female in the club-- yes the shorter the skirt, the more inflated the boobs, the youngest and the oldest, and of course how many layers of make up are a dead give away-- but what's the point in the chase if the animal is so desperately wounded? If your only prey is already rotting dead carcass, I'm afraid you're not much of a hunter.
I have been in some screwed up situations, especially romantically. Yet and still I didn't divorce myself from my conscience. Idk, the book kind of struck a chord because I think at one extreme is the notion of the male who can take down triple digit number of women by his early 20s. But with nothing to counterbalance that, what keeps you going? And just statistically with the number of crazy women in this country he got off relatively easily in my book-- although some of the things that happened to him I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy... ok maybe I would wish it on my worst enemy.
Perhaps it was funny overall, but it was also deeply saddening. I mean I know people like this exist. Hell, I'm friends with some of them. Maybe to a lesser extent I may have even been one of them. But they at least have some redeeming qualities. The book makes a strong argument as to why one should never get drunk. I've seen my tolerance increase ten-fold over the last couple of years... but that's mostly for professional reasons.
But, that point aside, I've made women cry and I've made women cum but that was never the END goal with any, eh... I mean with most of them. (One or two fat chicks in my life did deserve to cry for their shenanigans). When did women start allowing themselves to become receptacles, and when did men become so low class that they habitually took advantage?
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