Through my eyes peering into their souls, I see soullessness and empty vortexes. I see spiritual death and I don't see a genuine appreciation for men. I see women hoisting themselves up as queens of sexuality conquerers of men, slaying men with their slithering tongues and cash boxes for hearts. The snake with tits, the female land shark, the
vagina dentata; men as pawns in their game of chess. Their badly highlighted hair streaks, their purses which hang in their armpits, their "woot! woot!" calls of the wild; their relationship monkeying, their stringing along six men at once, their compartmentalizing men into different roles, their
amoral wasteland. Women are entirely sexual and it floods out to every corner of our
doughnut shaped? universe. It is endless and knows no bounds. Nowadays with sexual expression freeing up, along going the hypothesis, finding girls gone wild is so commonplace it's stupid and uninspiring. Really, where are awe-inspiring women?
Regardless of if women are passive receptors as venus fly traps or Napoleon on the march for new victories, women are the devourers of men. Sex destroys beauty—it loosens the lips but it also stops mental development; the female personality stagnates and men waste away in idle pursuits. Even though I have always disagreed with social conservatives who promote waiting until marriage to have sex, I respect their intentions and the disagreement is solely methodological. There must be erected a "wall" between women and their sexuality, and sadly the floodgates have fallen.
A sad moment of realization was not so long ago. There is this lady who I "really" liked for years. We were co-workers from that Italian restaurant we've eaten at twice and she seemed like a real quality woman. She left for another restaurant and that was that for about two years. Some time ago, I began running into her and I still do because we have mutual friends and mutual hang-out places. As I grew to get to know her better, how she aspires for the entertainment business, still works in the same restaurant and plans to bartend, and how she gets banged by guys I'm buddies with; and after a year there was the sad moment when I realized that possibly her whole idea of career motivation is sleeping around to get ahead.
There is only one woman I've ever met—other than relatives of course—who still garners much respect. I also worked with her at the restaurant and she was so compassionate and warm, graceful, so well-refined and cultured, not to mention the hottest redhead. She always hinted the door was open but I was too shy. (Hindsight is always a bytch.) I actually looked her up recently and found a picture of her on Google; turns out she moved to LA and is now a producer of a show on the SPEED channel.
My point is, I think, that the sexual revolution neglects the humanistic side to human relations. The American sexual lexicon is full of terms—friends with benefits, fvck buddies, booty calls, etc.—and vague definitions—e.g. going out on a date isn't a date it's "hanging out", etc.—just to avoid the idea of commitment. We are Eskimos who have 50 words to say "ice"... but in the process what is happening to humanism?
But how does one really know what they are getting? 
