It’s easy for me to tell when I really like a girl, and it has nothing to do with banging her. Banging just means the girl has met my minimum attractiveness threshold, but only those who far exceed it will be worth an extended edition of my time, energy, and resources. I know that the things I do for a girl and the way I behave or feel when I’m in her company change depending on how attracted I am to her.
If I go down on a girl on the first night, she is in the upper tier of girls I bang. The hungrier and more voraciously I attack her genitalia with my mouth, the more I like her. Looking back on the girls I fell in love with, one commonality they all shared was my reckless disregard for personal hygiene and unpleasant odors when I buried my face deep into the folds of their furrows. I think I orally devoured the vagina of one girl for half an hour before I even penetrated her. To me, that is the equivalent of getting on bended knee and slipping a 6-month salary rock on her finger.
If I envision spending the rest of my life with her I will stick my nose into the canal and lustfully inhale her bouquet of womanhood, hardly noticing the pube floss or pussy juice mustache when I come up for air.
Other things I find myself doing with a girl I like a lot:
Cook her dinner. (This is a big deal since I don’t even cook for myself.)
Write her emails longer than two sentences and properly punctuated.
Paint her.
Photograph her. (B&W only. Try this sometime, it is a huge turn-on for women to be instructed how to pose for the camera.)
Get nervous around her. (Trust me, after many years in the field you will begin to miss the adrenaline rush of nervousness.)
Steal flowers from the neighbor’s garden for her.
Do a version of this.
An artist! Yesss! Any claims to sexual prowess will now be taken completely seriously.
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You do realize that I will never be able to have another drink with you without imagining a long pube floss stuck in your teeth or a “PJ” mustache on your upper lip.
Thanks dude…. Thanks a fucking lot
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lustfully inhale her bouquet of womanhood
Did you copy this off Penthouse Forum?
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Trying to show your other side or something?
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“a 6-month salary rock on her finger.”
That’s way ridiculously overpriced. Half a year’s worth of work for a useless carbon rock to wear on the finger is about as wasteful as it gets. Diamonds did not become fashionable as engagement rings until de Beers came out with a wildly successful ad campaign in the 1940s.
I love my ~$500 engagement ring, and I would have wanted a cheaper one, but the price of gold (which is relatively long-lasting material) has been going up. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford a diamond, but that I insisted on a non-diamond ring. I am hugely parsimonious, and I hate the idea of conflict diamonds and paying for something artificially inflated in value.
The ultimate proof of a woman’s love for a man is when she does not require the extraction of monetary value and material goods from him to be happy. IOW, his happiness automatically makes her happy.
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Hope,
Why are you trying to take this post in the wrong direction? Can’t we just stay on point with Roissy’s muff diving antics please?
Does everyone always have to turn in their college essays on self-righteousness, in all these posts?
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“Why are you trying to take this post in the wrong direction? Can’t we just stay on point with Roissy’s muff diving antics please?”
I like to be off-topic. Besides, you already have his muff diving antics covered.
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I agree; the likelihood of me going down on a guy, the longevity of that act and especially the amount of enjoyment I get out of it are all directly proportional to how attracted I am to him. Good to know it goes both ways 😉
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If that’s what you do when you like her then what happens when you finally fall for her…Clevelend Steamers?
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I love my ~$500 engagement ring, and I would have wanted a cheaper one, but the price of gold (which is relatively long-lasting material) has been going up. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford a diamond, but that I insisted on a non-diamond ring.
…
The ultimate proof of a woman’s love for a man is when she does not require the extraction of monetary value and material goods from him to be happy. IOW, his happiness automatically makes her happy.
If I didn’t know anything about you, Hope, I would have presumed that you were an ugly desperate girl. It’s only really ugly girls, geek girls, really foreign women, and hippies who don’t care about diamond rings.
Besides, how would my happiness make her happy?
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aww…
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emm, whatn is B&W in a photo shoot?
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That will Always Be the best Litmus test .
Far surpassing simply measuring for Ph levels.
excellent clip
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see…and all these people think you have no heart!
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i am the beast that shouted love at the heart of the world.
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Even your sensitive side is overtly sexual. I love it, consistently makes my day. 🙂
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Putting this post (especially that clip) on this blog is like punctuating a speech on civil rights with an N-bomb.
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DA,
My guess is that Hope is not ugly, nor a geek or foreign. She’s probably a hippie, raised by 1960s types who named her Hope because (say the following in a Tommy Chong voice): “The young generation is, like, our only hope, man.”
I mean that with good intentions. The women I know with names like Hope, Faith and (cough) Cinnamon did have hippie parents.
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gay
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DoBA: they could also be Quakers.
Except for “Cinnamon”, which is certainly a hippie name but was also the name of the lone female in the Mission Impossible series. I think.
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IIRC, Hope said that she’s Chinese, so I presumed that she’s foreign-born Chinese.
As for the name Cinnamon, it brings up images of really slutty looking black and Southern white women who possibly are strippers. You know, the kind of women that I’m magically attracted to…
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This post is the truth. A lot of how I think about the girl when she’s not around is involved too.
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do you go down on her when she has her period…without a tampon?
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Clio: Who said anything about them liking oatmeal?
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“Hope said that she’s Chinese, so I presumed that she’s foreign-born Chinese.”
Yes, you are correct in your assumption. Hope is not my real name, but I guess it does make me a bit of a hippie to have chosen it as an online nickname.
“how would my happiness make her happy?”
Imagine how you would feel about your worst enemy experiencing abject misery, and think about that in reverse.
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If my worst enemy is experiencing abject misery and I am the cause… I would feel very happy. The only verdict is vengeance and revenge is sweet.
Thus in reverse, if my worst enemy experiences abject happiness, it would make me feel like I was a complete and total failure unless I was experiencing greater happiness.
Depending on what my worst enemy did to make him my worst enemy, I may not be able to be happy while he is happy.
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“Thus in reverse, if my worst enemy experiences abject happiness, it would make me feel like I was a complete and total failure unless I was experiencing greater happiness.”
Ah, maybe reverse was the wrong wording. What I meant is, imagine your beloved experiencing glowing happiness — with the same result that you are happy. At least, for me, making someone whom I love happy results in my happiness as well.
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The description of oral sex in this post is one of the most badly written, most nauseating paragraphs I’ve seen on the web. The mix of puffed-up player machismo and attempted cutesiness just does not work. The writing style is like some sick combination of Cosmo and Maxim.
And I love to go down on an attractive woman too, and just like Roissy says find it a good test of how attracted I really am.
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Cinnamon is also the name of Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper’s SON on Blue’s Clues.
(You can tell I’m the parent of a small child)
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. . . not to mention the title (and subject) of a rather execrable song from 1969 by a one-hit wonder who called himself “Derek”.
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. . . and then there was Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl”.
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Has Roosh seen this? 😉
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ha. well, roosh and i aren’t that far apart — i only love to eat out the girls who are really hot.
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[…] like going down on very attractive girls. But even a Russian 10 would stop me cold in my tracks if her pussy […]
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Hope said–
Ah, maybe reverse was the wrong wording. What I meant is, imagine your beloved experiencing glowing happiness — with the same result that you are happy. At least, for me, making someone whom I love happy results in my happiness as well..
Oh yeah. In fact that’s a pretty good working definition, or indicator, of real romantic love, or of one side of it. If one doesn’t feel that, and strongly, I don’t think one is truly in love. A close and intimate friendship, perhaps with good sex, but not real love.
It’s sad, and I’m not saying this as a putdown, that DA doesn’t recognize this feeling.
BTW, I’ve been reading extensively through the archives here Hope and overall I really like your voice and where you’re coming from. I’m not saying that as a geek either (well yes on the IQ but no on the engineering type field, rather in fact instead a pretty high testosterone one).
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tracylord—
“do you go down on her when she has her period…without a tampon?”
God you do love to push it right out there don’t you girl!!?? Gaa. Now that one. I mean I don’t mind menses at all. We just lay an old towel down on the bed (best place under the circ.), tampon out, good to go. But full in blood suckin’?? *gak*. Time to move to some tie up instead.
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these days, my only two criteria for dating a girl are
1. do i actually *want* to go down on her
2. will she not embarrass me in front of my friends
shallow much?
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Aren’t things like ‘cooking her dinner’ very Beta actions?
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[…] I guess. She is also a die-hard romantic because she always loves sex with the lights off. I love going down on her and licking her supple […]
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the double thumbs up in the video is so lame, better do a better version.
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