Casual hookups are not for sub5's, that much is clear. LTR's are the only way.
You know what an LTR is in 2019 for ugly men? Getting stepped on. Being a doormat. Begging for scraps. Getting stepped on, being a doormat, and begging for scraps from some nasty-looking unhygienic lard bag who thinks she's a queen because her orbiters assure her she is one. You might get a peck on the cheek from her after the third date where you paid for her supersized meal while Chad calls her a dumb ugly cunt at the nightclub and gets his dick sucked by her as a consequence. How many dates before you're good enough for her rank pussy? Six? Twelve? Twenty? You'll probably need Viagra to actually go through with it when the time comes since she looks like a cow, smells like a pig, and acts like a baboon.
Call it sour grapes all you want, but I don't see how it's worth spending over a hundred thousand dollars on jaw implants, leg lengthening surgery, oculoplasty, and hair transplant surgery, let alone the years of pain and down time that would go with all those surgeries and the backbreaking work needed to get the money to pay for them, just to be passable enough looks-wise to be allowed to take one of these nauseating farm animals to Starbucks and watch her suck on a pumpkin spice latte with her dull gaze fixed to her smartphone, her ego inflated ever more with the sycophantic worship she gets on Tinder from sex-starved beta men who are better-looking than you with not even a fifth of the effort.
It really is Chad, cope, or rope. If you're not Chad, a relationship where you're not a slave to the whims of an indifferent noxious manatee--or God forbid, a happy one with someone you like--is too much to ask, and even suggesting you might want one makes you an entitled misogynist white supremacist (even if you're not white) pedophilic wannabee spree shooter who needs to check your privilege at the door and flagellate yourself bloody for the unforgivable crime of not being content with perpetual loneliness as a sub8 male.
You know what an LTR is in 2019 for ugly men? Getting stepped on. Being a doormat. Begging for scraps. Getting stepped on, being a doormat, and begging for scraps from some nasty-looking unhygienic lard bag who thinks she's a queen because her orbiters assure her she is one. You might get a peck on the cheek from her after the third date where you paid for her supersized meal while Chad calls her a dumb ugly cunt at the nightclub and gets his dick sucked by her as a consequence. How many dates before you're good enough for her rank pussy? Six? Twelve? Twenty? You'll probably need Viagra to actually go through with it when the time comes since she looks like a cow, smells like a pig, and acts like a baboon.
Call it sour grapes all you want, but I don't see how it's worth spending over a hundred thousand dollars on jaw implants, leg lengthening surgery, oculoplasty, and hair transplant surgery, let alone the years of pain and down time that would go with all those surgeries and the backbreaking work needed to get the money to pay for them, just to be passable enough looks-wise to be allowed to take one of these nauseating farm animals to Starbucks and watch her suck on a pumpkin spice latte with her dull gaze fixed to her smartphone, her ego inflated ever more with the sycophantic worship she gets on Tinder from sex-starved beta men who are better-looking than you with not even a fifth of the effort.
It really is Chad, cope, or rope. If you're not Chad, a relationship where you're not a slave to the whims of an indifferent noxious manatee--or God forbid, a happy one with someone you like--is too much to ask, and even suggesting you might want one makes you an entitled misogynist white supremacist (even if you're not white) pedophilic wannabee spree shooter who needs to check your privilege at the door and flagellate yourself bloody for the unforgivable crime of not being content with perpetual loneliness as a sub8 male.
