Juan Valdez
Don Juan
- Joined
- May 18, 2005
- Messages
- 12
- Reaction score
- 0
- Age
- 50
Hello,
I am new to this forum and somehow I seriously doubt I will remain an active member, however for now I shall raise some thoughts and questions for inquiry.
I am a painter that is a fine artist, a wine connoisseur, a lover of tailored suits, high culture and intelligence. I come from a Slavic Background,
So I have dark looks, and high contrast features.
Really there is an almost infinite supply of beautiful women who will jump down my pants sometimes without my permission.
The facts are as they stand.
90% of the women I meet have potatoes inside their heads, and I can not imagine wanting to bed them any more than I can imagine wanting to bed a sheep. However about ten percent, have what I want:
A freakishly high IQ.
Extreme creativity.
The model quality appearance.
Quality, style, mystery, talent, and…
..Something strange and indefinable.
The ability to eroticize my mind, to create a(n impossible to resist) mood.
However…I have a problem, really two problems:
Every time I think I have found exactly what I am looking for ,
Every time I think “this is it, no more having to hunt through heaps of robot women! This is the one!” suddenly….they just stop.
They stop being creative.
They stop inspiring me with fascinating thoughts and conversation.
They stop talking almost completely.
They stop writing impassioned poetry to me.
They stop dreaming.
Unfortunately they do not stop being possessed of something strange mysterious, and indefinable.
Unfortunately they do not stop loving me.
So gradually I go mad, trying to get (at whatever it is) , everything that has suddenly disappeared.
Inevitably, I must move on because I do not bed sheep.
I have been in serious relationships with :
A concert Violinist
A world class model
An Anthropologist
A writer
I am currently in love with a former model, and circus knife thrower, but it is happening again, and where she used to practically drown me in love letters she writes almost nothing and says less, help.
She hasn’t stopped, she still ****s like a demon, and swears she loves me, but something is missing.
Again,
Help.
I am new to this forum and somehow I seriously doubt I will remain an active member, however for now I shall raise some thoughts and questions for inquiry.
I am a painter that is a fine artist, a wine connoisseur, a lover of tailored suits, high culture and intelligence. I come from a Slavic Background,
So I have dark looks, and high contrast features.
Really there is an almost infinite supply of beautiful women who will jump down my pants sometimes without my permission.
The facts are as they stand.
90% of the women I meet have potatoes inside their heads, and I can not imagine wanting to bed them any more than I can imagine wanting to bed a sheep. However about ten percent, have what I want:
A freakishly high IQ.
Extreme creativity.
The model quality appearance.
Quality, style, mystery, talent, and…
..Something strange and indefinable.
The ability to eroticize my mind, to create a(n impossible to resist) mood.
However…I have a problem, really two problems:
Every time I think I have found exactly what I am looking for ,
Every time I think “this is it, no more having to hunt through heaps of robot women! This is the one!” suddenly….they just stop.
They stop being creative.
They stop inspiring me with fascinating thoughts and conversation.
They stop talking almost completely.
They stop writing impassioned poetry to me.
They stop dreaming.
Unfortunately they do not stop being possessed of something strange mysterious, and indefinable.
Unfortunately they do not stop loving me.
So gradually I go mad, trying to get (at whatever it is) , everything that has suddenly disappeared.
Inevitably, I must move on because I do not bed sheep.
I have been in serious relationships with :
A concert Violinist
A world class model
An Anthropologist
A writer
I am currently in love with a former model, and circus knife thrower, but it is happening again, and where she used to practically drown me in love letters she writes almost nothing and says less, help.
She hasn’t stopped, she still ****s like a demon, and swears she loves me, but something is missing.
Again,
Help.