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A lady with whom I've been having some interesting interactions on WhatsApp sent me this image, which she found quite funny, a few weeks back:
I don't think I have ever seen a more perfect encapsulation of how thirsty an emasculated man can look, and what extreme revulsion that such a thing creates in a woman.
This doesn't work in reverse, by the way. When I saw that image, I responded to the woman who sent it by saying something along the lines of, "What if one strapped a bowl of vodka to Cristiano Ronaldo's crotch and sold it to women?". My fair interlocutor giggled- or indicated that she did, anyway- and responded that this was a good business idea.
It was a joke (not a very good one, in my personal opinion), and it got this girl laughing, which was about the only point of my statement.
But in reality, you wouldn't need to go to nearly so much trouble.
Mark my words: if you were somehow able to get him to cooperate (which I imagine probably wouldn't be terribly difficult), women would be lining up in droves to pay for the privilege of servicing Mr. Ronaldo. That is because he is rich, famous, and jacked.
The comparison between what a thirsty man will do for just a smidgen of attention, even from an unattractive woman, and what a woman will do for attention from a high-status man, isn't a very good one. This is because Mr. Ronaldo, for all of his playboy tendencies, has actually worked very hard to get where he is. He has put in the work, and he is reaping the rewards that come with being a charismatic, highly successful, highly desirable man. Good for him.
The woman in that picture, by contrast, simply knew that she could capitalise on the miserable existence of the many, oh so many, thirsty men out there.
She is not particularly attractive; her body has a sort of soft pasty pudginess about it that is quite off-putting, especially in the glare of the hot Sun on a beach. Her hair is stringy and unkempt. Her dress sense is nothing much to gawk at either.
And yet she is still (apparently) making good money, simply by combining thirst and titillation into a single package. I have to say, I am impressed, in a cold and impersonal sort of way, at her business sense.
The most telling thing about that entire photo, though, is her expression. That is the look that I call "The Termite": it destroys wood more thoroughly than the most ravenous colony of vermin ever could.
It is a mix of smug triumph at the fact that she owns the men who come to her for "lemonade", combined with balls-shriveling contempt for those same men, topped off by a not-exactly-trivial helping of disgusted rage at the fact that she can debase herself so blatantly and yet still have guys lining up to try out her wares.
If a woman shoots you that look, you have failed, utterly and totally, in every possible way as a man.
The lesson is absolutely crystal-clear: never, ever supplicate like this before any woman. It will destroy any attraction that she might have for you faster than anything else you do, and that includes breaking wind in her presence. At least in the latter case, there are girls out there who will laugh and punch you in the arm for being a slob- but if you act like a simpering herb, the only thing that will get you into her pants will be a fleet of Ferraris sitting on your front lawn.
Since that is not an option for about 99.999% of men, the only alternative is to refuse to put yourself in that position in the first place.
Never apologise for being a man. If you are on a beach and you want lemonade, walk over to the stand and buy it like a man. Don't abase yourself before some man-jawed (but clearly rather clever) lady with bad hair who will repay your custom with even less respect than a street hooker.