Liberal elite age gap daddy

Femcel pt. 12

From the beginning: Femcel pt. 1

last post : Femcel pt. 11

First of all I didn’t even know he was a “public figure”. I don’t watch TV. Also I’m a public figure too, they talk shit about “my people” in the news all the time. My people can cancel me too, like his can. So why do you even care where I’m from. Especially when you aren’t interested in dating me.

I regret having told him. I did it in such an undignified way too, like ok, ok, I’ll give you the ammunition you need to form preconceived notions about me, just, please don’t block me, consider asking me out and desiring me please.

And he confirmed it was a mistake in his following comments In which he passively invalidated my anxieties, “I have a lot of friends from all around the world gngngn”. Yea no shit, your relatively wealthy, well connected, super cosmopolitan friends are less likely to have experienced things like “oh, your English is so good for someone coming from the 3rd world shithole you said you’re coming from !”, but then have you even cared to ask them, or are they just a card you use to dismiss me, even when I actually didn’t even ask you to validate, listen or even know about any of this.

Anyways, of course, I let it go. I told him it pissed me off that the first guy I fell for had sent me a link to the wikipedia page about sex positivity, thinking I didn’t know or understand what it was, to mansplain how “well, here in California, women are free to enjoy sex” (understand; as opposed to the backwards shithole you’re from) and not all men gngngn”.

And you know what this man said ? You will never guess; here it is; “What’s sex positivity ?” “Well I have a lot of sexually positive thoughts about you ;).”

I had to send him the wiki link back. The psychodiversity of American men, or the irony of fate, or just, lmao.

Also men are insane for this; they can jerk off to a non-sexual picture of you. Peak insanity. But impressive. I can’t orgasm without audio or visual porn. They can look at a woman’s ID picture and get hard, stroke their cocks with all the ease and peace of mind in the world, nice orgasm, ahhh reinvigoration, and then, alright let’s keep it steppin’. People think it’s disgusting and deranged but I think it’s efficient, admirable and… actually very cute. Male porn addicts trying to quit; trust your natural disposition to hedonistic adaptation, and soon enough you’ll be able to ditch it completely with no consequence to your ability to enjoy masturbation. No need to do no-fap or no-nut or god knows what ever sexual anorexia red pill that’s out there, like, you guys can jerk-off to your thoughts. To like, concepts. Appreciate this beautiful gift instead of hating, fighting, shaming, restricting and bingeing. Anyways. (and then they say femcels are misandrist and stuff, look at me being so supportive and whatnot).

But to excite him even more (and unfortunately, also to get him to like me more), I sent him nudes. Bare pussy. I look back and I think, what sort of idiot does this. He probably thought the same, but for him this thought was funny and arousing, rather than confused and regretful. I sent him videos of myself dancing too. I can dance really well. It one of the few abilities of mine in which I have less doubts than for other skills. Maybe because I know I’ve done my ten thousand hours of it, and it’s a very niche dancing genre, so it’s not hard to confidently say I’m a pro. He loved them, but like most of the men I had hitherto dealt with, he kept the responses and reactions short, so I don’t get too excited about him showing any type of affect about my existence.

He also replied that he could have many Orientalist fantasies about me. I said I was open to it, with conditions, as in, with the mutual understanding that it’s a fantasy, and it’s for the eros only (outside of which of course man better clear his mind really well, sit straight and come correct before engaging in the endeavour of perceiving me). I also told him, in what looked like the beginning of a sexting seance, that what I wanted us to do seriously compromised the integrity of my feminist values, or some pick-me shit of the sort.

He said “ well not everything has to be political”. “And those [feminist] values are really boring”. Oh... there’s the sexting session cancelled. It’s insane how many men don’t know how to oppress their insatiable need to Ruin The Vibe, and how many combine this lack of impulse management with a strong commitment to maintain total incompetence in all things erotic such as sexting. I mean why would they, they can jerk off to an ID picture. Actually why even engage in a conversation, since they know everything already. (Daddy issues flare up sorry, but how can you heal with dudes who say shit like this)

It was the first time I had someone say the “not everything has to be political” to me. I wanted to wokescold him about how “actually, everything is political gngngn”. But again, concilliatory me, with a mind devoid of any serious consideration for things like dignity and self-respect, with a bloodstream full of antidepressants and amphetamines, I didn’t.

Most important thing was to get him to like me, to desire me, to show me attention and affection. Anything else I had either chemically numbed myself too much to be able to fully grasp, or, I was able to post-rationalise, or lie to myself about how indicative it was of the need to block him and move on.

We had other disagreements. About contraception, where he showed me that he doesn’t understand the role his personal and emotional experience play in the way he assesses risk. Man started comparing contraception failure risk and car accident risk, and how, we live and go out despite those risks so why get paranoid about those associated with pregnancy and STIs. This is because his contraception of choice was pulling-out. And that he only had an unwanted pregnancy once, and it was not his fault, the girl told him her obgyn said she was sterile.

Sweet Jesus.

I asked him what happened, and when, and how did it feel, how did he process it. He said it was a long time ago, he got very worried and upset at the news, but then she said she was going to get an abortion. That’s it. No further comments.

Man who has benefitted from the, in his own words “really boring feminist values” in ways that have impacted his personal life to this day, doesn’t seem to find a logical or ethical issue in limiting his views on feminism to the mindnumbing, thought terminating, soul crushing qualifier “really boring”. I usually find the “practice gratitude” pop-psycho self help mantra to be really obnoxious and unhelpful, but here, in this seriously concerning case, I don’t see any other way to explain this man’s sentiment about all of it; feminism, sex, contraception, etc. he’s never had to pay the real price, he’s never had to feel, see, know, or understand. No wonder consideration is also part of the things he’s exonerated from having to engage with.

I wanted to talk to that woman, who got the abortion. Imagine being told your whole life, you’re sterile. You can’t conceive, and then you get pregnant, and then you go abort it. Even if voluntarily. It’s not easy. I hope she’s doing well. I hope she’s not on dating apps talking to a guy like Mr. Public Figure who thinks feminism’s fatal flaw is that it’s really boring. I don’t think he really finds it boring, he just perceives it as something only worth caring about when it affects someone he actually likes/loves/respects. Fair enough.

We were going to meet just a couple of days after having matched, he said I could come spend the night at his place. Ok so one-night stand, a one hit wonder lol. It’s ok for me of course, I just wanted to meet someone I like, to have them look my way, hold my goddamn hand, make me a sweet compliment or two. Even when he made me scared about meeting him; I asked him jokingly whether he would kick me out if I got too annoying, and he said, “Yeah.” (Like how a diabolical character in an animation movie would say). When he said that, I knew viscerally that my vagina would therefore not open up to his penis. It scared me. But at the same time paradoxically, it comforted me because it meant that night wouldn’t be the night where I’d lose my virginity. Though he did get softer and more reassuring, when we discussed sex more explicitly, and the fact that I was a virgin (according to his definition of sex), and that I had very limited experience (I’d had my first kiss barely a couple of weeks earlier).

The next few days, I went to watch TV bits of him to get myself a bit more used to him, kind of how you revise before an exam. It was so weird though, something only Jean Baudrillard would be able to aptly describe and interpret. Seeing someone on a screen and thinking, I just talked to this guy yesterday, about something so far from what he’s saying here. He’s looking at me, but not really, he’s looking at a camera, but also at me, conceptually, as a member of the public, I’m looking at him and listening to him, like a creep because I purposely looked for these videos, but also, not creepily because I’m also, just a member of the general public. Hyperreality. This is what Baudrillard talked about. When the distinction between real and simulation becomes too blurry, a feature of new technology. Especially when he sent me a picture of him, a mirror selfie, in which he’s dressed in homewear, as opposed to the suit he wore on TV. Both are real depictions, one is realer, is it because it was sent only to me ? Or because it came before the TV image I looked for, or is it because he’s more real as a person when he texted me, than when he’d speak about this or that topic on TV.

I need a Baudrillard hotline. I need to discuss these things with experts and scholars. An Edward Said hotline as well. I mean, I’m probably far more guilty on the fetish aspect than he is; I was the one who sent him Orientalist representations of myself.

Anyway the next day, of course I get tons of break outs on my forehead, I was not yet aware that the whey protein they put in McFlurrys breaks me the fuck out. I stressed out, I went to Boots, and got myself a high end concealer and a drug store one, and then I got setting spray, and some lip-plumping gloss, Givenchy blush, and a benzoyl peroxide cream that I was going to ask to fix my skin in 48 hours.

No worries, all I had to do is beat my face real good and the pimples would be nothing but a negligable, trivial, of little to no consequence issue. I figured he would feel the necessary self-consciousness needed to oppress his digust or distaste about my breakouts, in other words, I expected him to cut me some slack considering he was balding, (though I didn’t care that much), but to solidify my defense, I put 2k on lasering my whole body, including my whole pussy, which he said he prefered it that way when I asked him, so, shhhtt.

Not very attractive by the way. A man who prefers bald pussies to hairy ones. Shows a lack of erotic vigor. I know I lasered mine, but still. That was for other reasons. It’s still more attractive to have a man say either that they don’t care, or that they like hair, trimmed or whatever.

tbc.

Next: Femcel pt. 13