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Remember Alana Massey? No? Ok, remember the CH evisceration of her? Ah, yes, that does ring a bell. She’s back, but in a different way, providing ugly truth fodder that’s fun for the whole family. Her Twat feed secretly tingles for a suitor who made such an impression on her that she couldn’t help but fondly recall him and announce her fond recollection to the whole world.
my fave part of this tactic is always showing up in sunglasses and a shit-eating grin like some kind of a goddamn genius.
He got your attention, Alana. And that’s more than can be said for the loser betas “lifting you up” (in SJW-speak) on Tinder.
Boring men who play by the rules are never remembered by women. “Hey, secks?” game may not be eligible for inclusion in the pantheon of great seduction techniques, but it beats “Hi, beautiful, how was your day? ;)” anti-game. (In Alana’s case, this come-on would be a lie in at least one detail.)
Don’t aspire to be an SJW-approved lapdog shell entity. Aspire to be a Hey, Secks man, a Skittles man, a Bring the Movies man, a Birthday Cat man, or a 8===D man. In every generation, women get the men they put out for.
A commenter thinks Massey is the one texting the “Hey, secks?” line. If so, it doesn’t speak well of her SMV. I mean, if you have to request a booty call intervention from a man, you probably don’t have much to offer beyond a few minutes of your discount bin jizz receptacle.