B
BT 075
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kiwifarms.net
Regrettably, as well-intended as your advice/observation/post is, it is frankly wasted on me.
As expressly stated prior, I don't harbor any notions about 'happiness'; neither do I pine for model-tier members of the opposite sex in some Wolf of Wanker Street basement fantasy. I accept my lot and long since have. Sure, I get occasional bouts of wistfulness (who doesn't?), but I know nothing will change - I lack ambition, and am too apathetic these days to make the effort. And if I make the startling realisation on my death bed that I should have done things different, then I'll deal with that as and when.
I'm not someone who moans about never getting laid again - that petulant ship sailed in my mid-20s. So I think your advice would be better suited to a frustrated, pent-up 'loveshy' who hasn't experienced life, or indeed sex. But the sentiment is appreciated.
All this sounds so depressing, man. To the point where I'd like to ask you: why even bother?
Happiness can be fleeting but it's very real. If you aren't in this world to enjoy yourself, or to make things more enjoyable to others, then what is that makes you tick? What is there, if anything, that you enjoy doing?
There is a lot more to life then the limited and narrow scope of Sluthate: becoming (more) attractive and attracting girls to fuck. A very rewarding thing can be something extremely simple; going to a beautiful, quiet place and just walking around admiring your surroundings. Enjoying a high quality meal, in good company. Having a good dinner conversation. Watching the sun go down. Reading a good book. Writing down a book of your own. All things you could do that don't necessarily involve love, sex or obsession with your looks.