Trigger warning: My favourite literature is my antique bookcollection, and my writing style tends to gravitate towards the more eloquent)
As the thread title implies, I aim for such a futile goal. To find a woman of adequate character and a short (if existing) sexual history. It begs the question, as to how one can determine such a thing of a person?
I have a particular knack for judging character. Many women have faces with flesh of a soft clay, threatening to dent and slide off their face. Dull, ocher complexions (despite some of which being particularly pale) joining the "thousand cock stare" -as some may put it- with an animalc simplicity that agitates me to my core.
Others, I have found pleasant enough. Cool, icy streams. A low "gluh" sound. Perhaps a sunbeam in the clear ocean, or even a cute little owl. . Their character presents itself to me in a way that those who claim to be "artists" would kill to even glimpse, which explains why modern art holds little interest to me... The character is fantastic, yet the beauty marred by the promiscuity they have been goaded into persuing. Their wonderful colours are condensed with that of society until all that is left is a dull, disgusting brown.
This perception -complex as it may seem- is more real to me than depth (interpretation of edges and perspective cues on a semi-concious basis, rather than instinctual), proving reality to be more fantastic than fiction could ever dream. It keeps me discriminating in what women I am attracted to, perhaps resulting in seven in the past ten years or so. In aesthetics, I'm more drawn to necks, shoulders and shins rather than breasts or bottoms. An attraction more suited to the Victorian era than our post-modern depravity. Such is life.
I use my insight and skill to attempt to hunt the unicorn, rare though they may be.
And so I have spotted what may be my prey.
A young woman, who is simply herself. Confusing me with no colour to speak of, having adopted a mgtow-esque lifestyle after being friend zoned, and surrounded by beta chumps to intimidated to attempt to date her (the jealous glares I receive from them are quite amusing, for she is their Madonna, I suspect). Her personality -like mine- can be described by the concept laid out by F. Scott Fitzgerald's Monsieur Darcy in This Side of Paradise: A personage- one who's personality is as a trophy room, he takes what he finds and places it upon a shelf, updating and changing his to display his latest prize, and occasionally clearing the room to start his collection again. I have recognized her acquisition of a few such trophies, and their origins. Emotional mimicry at its finest.
She-having been emotionally invested before- is hesitant to attempt a relationship out of fear of getting hurt, fearful that my attraction to her is merely the result of cohabitation (dorm suite). A well-made hamster wheel.
She is half-asian, half-irish with a voice hauntingly familiar. In public an amusing inflection with rising intonation at the end of sentences, while in private an expressive and soft tone that fills one with contentment and reflects her demure nature.
Upon an argument with her -catalyzed by snide remarks by others during a social movie viewing- she later banned snide remarks upon her turn to host one of these movie events. She considers herself unworthy of me, being "too weird", worried that she would be the one to screw up and loose me. I'm approaching the problem from the other end, it seems.
She is a woman who I know not from seeing the colour of her character, but rather developing from a confusion, to curiosity, to caring, to loving. Perhaps the only person who I'd care if she hated me.
I tread carefully... weighing every variable with distinct care. Any thoughts?
As the thread title implies, I aim for such a futile goal. To find a woman of adequate character and a short (if existing) sexual history. It begs the question, as to how one can determine such a thing of a person?
I have a particular knack for judging character. Many women have faces with flesh of a soft clay, threatening to dent and slide off their face. Dull, ocher complexions (despite some of which being particularly pale) joining the "thousand cock stare" -as some may put it- with an animalc simplicity that agitates me to my core.
Others, I have found pleasant enough. Cool, icy streams. A low "gluh" sound. Perhaps a sunbeam in the clear ocean, or even a cute little owl. . Their character presents itself to me in a way that those who claim to be "artists" would kill to even glimpse, which explains why modern art holds little interest to me... The character is fantastic, yet the beauty marred by the promiscuity they have been goaded into persuing. Their wonderful colours are condensed with that of society until all that is left is a dull, disgusting brown.
This perception -complex as it may seem- is more real to me than depth (interpretation of edges and perspective cues on a semi-concious basis, rather than instinctual), proving reality to be more fantastic than fiction could ever dream. It keeps me discriminating in what women I am attracted to, perhaps resulting in seven in the past ten years or so. In aesthetics, I'm more drawn to necks, shoulders and shins rather than breasts or bottoms. An attraction more suited to the Victorian era than our post-modern depravity. Such is life.
I use my insight and skill to attempt to hunt the unicorn, rare though they may be.
And so I have spotted what may be my prey.
A young woman, who is simply herself. Confusing me with no colour to speak of, having adopted a mgtow-esque lifestyle after being friend zoned, and surrounded by beta chumps to intimidated to attempt to date her (the jealous glares I receive from them are quite amusing, for she is their Madonna, I suspect). Her personality -like mine- can be described by the concept laid out by F. Scott Fitzgerald's Monsieur Darcy in This Side of Paradise: A personage- one who's personality is as a trophy room, he takes what he finds and places it upon a shelf, updating and changing his to display his latest prize, and occasionally clearing the room to start his collection again. I have recognized her acquisition of a few such trophies, and their origins. Emotional mimicry at its finest.
She-having been emotionally invested before- is hesitant to attempt a relationship out of fear of getting hurt, fearful that my attraction to her is merely the result of cohabitation (dorm suite). A well-made hamster wheel.
She is half-asian, half-irish with a voice hauntingly familiar. In public an amusing inflection with rising intonation at the end of sentences, while in private an expressive and soft tone that fills one with contentment and reflects her demure nature.
Upon an argument with her -catalyzed by snide remarks by others during a social movie viewing- she later banned snide remarks upon her turn to host one of these movie events. She considers herself unworthy of me, being "too weird", worried that she would be the one to screw up and loose me. I'm approaching the problem from the other end, it seems.
She is a woman who I know not from seeing the colour of her character, but rather developing from a confusion, to curiosity, to caring, to loving. Perhaps the only person who I'd care if she hated me.
I tread carefully... weighing every variable with distinct care. Any thoughts?
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