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Litmus Test

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.

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