Fuccfiles, my to date most popular book, just released it’s third edition. If you haven’t read it, now is the time. If you have read it, It’s got a new chapter and some small changes, a new cover, and a hardback edition. If you don’t get it you won’t miss anything, but if you’re a fan it is worth it.
Excerpt: Rooting through the garbage.
III Rooting through the garbage
To have all the worst, most hyperbolic horrible parts of women compressed into a single girl is an accomplishment. To get men to avoid that train wreck is a huge accomplishment; or
Women will act as shitty as you let them. Young decently good looking women are allowed to do most anything. The chick was Melissa. She had so many red flags packed into a 5' 2” frame. Every red flag you could imagine was in that little Acadian girl with a bob cut and big anime eyes. She lived in the Primary Military Quarters (PMQ), the military equivalent to subsidized welfare housing for service members. Girls that joined the military did so for one of three reasons: to get a man, to get away from a man, or because dad had been in for 30 years and she wanted to do what he did. If you had to sleep with a service girl, the latter are the most fun while the others are a sure-fire way to find some administrative strikes on your permanent record. Mel drank like a Newfoundlander, swore like a sailor, almost worked like one and was surrounded by guy friends. She was the worst, but not because of any of the above.
Other than new age pastors and other single moms, no one will tell you that women like these are prizes. They never seem to have issues finding themselves a man for the night, or to pick up the pieces when they feel like it. In spite of a resume that could headline a Maury Povich marathon, I still went after this one. Twice. I was learning about how to date, and still new to the game. I wasn't naturally high value in that sexually desirable way yet. I was faking it and working behind the scenes to ensure I could make it. I had a great career; I was fun; I was in shape but barely good enough to have good game and charisma. I still cared way too much. I still had that instinct that women were ultimately good creatures who thought like men, reacted to situations like men, and were generally worth it, eccentricities aside.
She was a twenty three year old single mom with a four year old daughter. I didn't know that as her mom did the babysitting when she met a new dick. She hid it well. Her grandmother is a story of dysfunction all on her own.
"Societal wisdom"--I quote that with all the disdain that I can muster--suggests that single moms are always on the lookout for the guy to provide for her and the kids while using sex as the means to that end. I disagree with that. So did she. I've had a few single moms over the years. Three for sure. I've had friends, peers, subordinates and acquaintances who have dipped their toe into those particular waters. If you were an attractive man, they keep their children as far from you as possible while reliving their party years. If you were the kind-hearted man with a good job, she would rub that kid in your face hoping to get you hooked before turning into the same kind of woman that made the biological dad skip out. She was a dealer, and the first hit was free, but eventually everyone gets hooked. A common navy situation, where a guy is looking for an "insta-family" (just add water and wait!) followed by the trope:
"I can't stand her, but I just love the kid."
