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Two girls fighting over one man. This delightful menage a twat won’t be the theme of any mainstream rom-com any time soon, because the alpha male these two babycakes are fighting over is, allegedly, Arron (sic) Lewis, mystery meat marekiller currently suspected of murdering Arkansas real estate agent Beverly Carter.
“Well I guess you made up your mind cuz you are still texting him.”
Chicks dig jerks. Chicks dig taken jerks. Chicks, at least as far as we can tell by their actions, dig taken jerks who lie to them. Bonus digging points if said jerk has a rap sheet.
Indignant white knights nursing an excessively protective instinct toward women which helps themselves feel useful in the world will doubtless wail, “But he lied to her! She didn’t know he was a jerk!” This sort of thinking betrays a lack of exposure to the
jungle dating market. I don’t see either of these cute-ish girls giving their sex to honest, law-abiding beta males. I see them fucking a lying, murdering sack of filth. And getting into girlfights over who will be his number one. The alpha male soft harem in action.
If you have any sort of experience with cute girls, you know that when they hook up, and stay hooked up, with lying assholes they know on some level with a quickness that these guys are lying assholes. Now of course their spinning hamsters will rationalize away their gnawing suspicions and oddly exciting discomfort, because these sexxxy bastards are just so intriguingly sexxxy and arousingly bastardly. It’s similar to how a smitten beta male, unable to think straight because his brain is awash in nutritious fresh squeezed pussy juice, will spin or ignore or sugarcoat evidence that his hot girlfriend is drifting out of love with him.
Hm, she hasn’t texted me since yesterday. Probably forgot to charge her phone.
The pricked self-preservation senses of the jerk-loving girl and the girlfriend-loving beta male tell them one thing, while their captured hearts tell them another. As love is the second most powerful emotion in the universe after jealousy, and tied with hate, the heart usually wins these contests of wills. And never really stops winning, even when it is finally denied the satisfaction of fulfillment.
A confused commenter avers,
The women we’re talking to each other about LEAVING him not about how much he makes their vags tingle from the power.
This is exactly the kind of misreading that one would expect from a Pollyanna pedestal polisher. Women don’t argue with each other in novella format over a man they don’t love anymore and truly wish to leave. A woman who has fallen out of love and wants to leave a man won’t turn over her decision a thousand times, nor argue about it with the man’s other lover. She’ll just leave, and her reasoning, if her spurned boyfriend demands it, will be uncharacteristically — for her sex — perfunctory. “I just don’t feel it anymore. I wish you the best.”
Only experience with women will enable a man to understand their different reactions to men they no longer love, versus men who have hurt them but whom they still love. Let’s put it this way: If two girls are fighting exhaustively over how to leave you, you’re in the gina seat.
Ya gotta read between the id-storm of lines, brethren. Or should I say sistren. *eyebrow raise*