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Lichtof, on attending a mimosa brunch in a major shitlibopolis:

One of my many red pill moments was living in a DC suburb and having to go to a mimosa brunch thing that bitches love.
My girl wanted to show me off.
6 other couples at the table all engaged or married and every one of the ‘men’ could have passed as gay. They even dressed gay..pink clothing…shorts..and all with high voices.
Me being hungover I thought I’d stumbled on a joke or something.
I acted a jerk and had two of the bitches eating out of my hand and none of the other ‘men’ knew what was going on.

Aside…I turned down a fuck from a white Colombian last year. A farmer’s daughter ..attractive, fit and I’d say loved a good fuck but she had big shoulders and just a little too much ‘t’.

Ladies, we men of impeccable taste and evolved slaydar can spot the slightest deviation from normal T levels in women…the shoulders that are a 1/4 inch too wide in relation to hip width, the gorilla feet, the man hands, the dusky tufts of lip hair, the pubic thatch that migrates across the pelvis-thigh crease (the nappy valley), the narrow hips, the wider waist (even if toned and taut), the flattened swayback, and of course the mark of the Lawyercunt Beast, the manjaw.

To the larger point, cities and in particular shitlibopolis strongholds that have a new pet grooming store open every week, become beacons for effete males where they resettle in large numbers and their scent of overactive aromatase suffuses the air. This scent is a turn-off to women, including the effete male’s polar opposite the high T careerist shrike. But libchicks love these harmless puffboys as asexual company whose only purpose appears to be inflating the egos of crass unfeminine bitterbitch pussyhatters.

Oh sure, occasionally a puffboy will pair off with a pussyhatter (usually after the pussyhatter has run a marathon through MAGA cad cock and needs the shitlib social acceptability imprimatur of a compliant beta borefriend), but you can tell neither of their hearts are into it; they’re hooking up for appearances rather than passion.

Worse, the coastal cities produce endemic toxins via food and culture channels that saps its male inhabitants of their T. So a double T whammy sets up….nancyboys gravitate to the cities, and their nancy-ness is amplified to an acute degree by the urban lifestyle. Only the strongest and most willful of MAGAmen can resist urban gayification. You have to be extremely confident in your masculinity to spend a lot of time in the cities plundering the sexually unfulfilled shitlib chicks downing mimosas by the vat to help them forget they’re on the slow track to a loveless marriage with uptalking vegetable lasagnas without worrying that you’ll become one of them.

The good news for men who don’t measure up to a Paul Bunyon standard is that it doesn’t take much inborn masculinity to shine like a diamond dick in a shitlibopolis. A recognizable bicep, a neck thicker than a pencil, a voice that doesn’t mimic little girls at play, and a cheeky ZFG attitude that isn’t concerned with constantly assuaging girls’ egos and reaffirming their insipid politics is enough to storm a pink-hued brunch like a Viking Berserker and insinuate yourself into the sexual fantasies of an entire HR department’s worth of alpha-starved feminist Trump haters.


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