You don’t have to read too deeply between the lines to know what Lauren Duca’s complaint is really saying about her:
This is the end game for veteran cock carouselers: an inability to escape the urban skank-a-rama, frequent awkward run-ins with current and former bang bros, and a gnawing sense of impending sexual invisibility with each deep cut run-in reminding her of the tick tock of the SMV clock.
Duca, childless manjawed Teen Vogue typist with illustrious works to her name such as…*wind whistles*…, finally married her boyfriend in 2016, (I’m sure he’s a soyboy who’s totally cool with his wife admitting in a public forum that he nabbed a paragon of chaste femininity who can’t stop bumping into pump and dumps who still loiter in her memory).
The anonymous, atomized urban pig pit that caters to hedonistas* like Duca offers a surfeit of sexual possibility, with the promise of no muss no fuss extraction should things head south. Break-ups can be buried in the heap of writhing humanity that scrapes along city sidewalks and walk-ups, or at least that’s what the hedonista tells herself. But should she acquire a sufficient number of round-the-way rides, even the masses and blurred mimosa-bleached neurons won’t shield her from the dreaded bump-in. And that same writhing mammal mass has a way of encouraging women to repeat rides on the cock carousel, a result not just of expanded options but of a false bravado and defiance of sexual market laws that city life uploads to the hivegine.
My advice to low disgust threshold, high T men who want to play the field before settling down, and don’t like the idea of committing the rest of their lives to a road-worn cock holster: Go to the big blue cities, have your way with the women (they’ll be ready), then escape and find your investment-worthy damsel in suburbia, a small town, or rural God’s country. You’re not guaranteed a virgin bride anywhere in America, but you can find more low notch count women outside the shitlibopolises who will, by dint of their relative lack of sexperience, bend the knee(s) to your magnanimous stewardship and genuine love. For only the low N woman with a conspicuous undercurrent of feminine vulnerability can wrest true, primal, “I’d kill for this woman” love from a man.
*As a skilled operator of the urban milieu, I have lain with many hedonistas, so I know how their gears turn and when their glib confessionals hide charred morsels of real pain and regret.
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Days of Broken Arrows adds,
Beat me to the punch with this comment. Just the fact that she’s drumming up drama in public with it is a shiv to her husband.
One of the worst aspects of modern American women is their propensity to shame their men publicly. “South Park” riffed on this by having a female character who only ever wore an “I’m With Stupid —>” t-shirt.
Her Tweet is the high-tech version of “I’m With Stupid —>” or a variation on the women who complain about their “honey-do” list when other couples are around. The best women keep it zipped in public and will wait to give it to you when the door’s shut. Pun intended.
Haha, good stuff. Globalist Girls and “I’m With Stupid–>” Sluts as far as the eye can see, and people wonder why men aren’t manning up like they used to. Ladies, you’ve gotta woman up before men will man up.