Y
This is happiness beyond anything you can fathom. It's impossible to appreciate how easy, stress-free, validation filled, and endorphin-releasing these lives are but we can guess.
They've escaped the rat race. No 40 hour weeks, no hours spent in traffic commuting, no deadlines to worry about, no essays to research, no projects to lose hair over. No forcing yourself to wake up early, force-feeding for energy even if not hungry.
You wake up at 10am after a full night of GH-releasing sleep. Your hair looks effortlessly styled even when messy. You eat your breakfast and take a shirtless selfie "cooking eggs!" "it's bacon time!" and post it to IG.�
You put on a plain white tee and some jeans. You haven't shaved or showered and your wardrobe is as basic as it gets but NONE of it matters because your face just makes everything work. It's the uglies who agonize over which direction to style their hair or how much stubble to trim or what shirt to wear with what pants to look good. All irrelevant to you.
Then your ride comes to pick you up. A limo from the agency to take you to your photoshoot of the day. You spend 2-3 hours in good lighting with a female model, posing and cracking jokes with snack breaks in between. You collect your fat paycheck and head out.
In between all this you've gotten literally hundreds of IOIs from women - on the street, on the train, in the grocery store. The entire world is like a runway because chicks keep GAWKING at you and cant control themselves. You have to hide a ****-eating grin - how can life be so amazing you wonder as you shake your head and laugh.
Now you go to the gym for some weight lifting and briefly glance at the bloated pimply moonfaces high-fiving each other over their 4 plate squats. You see a chick secretly snapping a pic of you from the corner of your eye but ignore it and laugh.
80th text message of the day comes in. It's the desperate sloot from tinder who has messaged you 3 times in a row, begging you to be her FWB. You don't feel like smashing though and just want to play video games. This thought doesn't give you any second-doubts or cognitive dissonance or anxiety over turning down sexors because posse is a never-ending stream for you, a commodity.�
Quick check on instagram - your unshaven unshowered selfie has 80000 likes with 9/10 hbbs posting kissy emojis and tagging their hot friends�
"@kayley this is the guy i was telling you about!"�
"future husband"�
"I.CANT.BREATHE"�
"@tiffanyyy @jessicaxo @amber92 ohmy****ingGOD"
Another stream of endorphins release upon seeing this validation. The tenth time today. Better than any drug out there. Heroin without the side effects. You smile as your self-esteem is satiated. Your genetics are celebrated. You are intrinsically desired Women want you for you. Not your money or your social connections, they want YOU.
Next day you wake up in your king sized bed feeling fresh af. Reach over for your phone to check for messages. Sure enough you have 3 new ones.
First one is from Cindy, the girl you banged last night after matching her on tinder:
"Hey. Had a great time yesterday, can't wait to see you again�"
"Cool", you think to yourself, and skip to the next one. It's from a modeling agency that you sent your photos to a couple weeks ago.�
"Good morning. We'd like to notify you that you were chosen as the new face of Thundercock Magazine. Congratulations. They will give you a call later today."
Awesome. You check the next message. It's from sophia, one of your exes:
"Hi. Just remembered about our trip to Italy and feeling a little nostalgic. Wanna catch up later tonight? Drinks on me
"
You burst into laughter as you remember the Italy trip. You were fuking her multiple times a day while there, sometimes even sneakily getting it done in public parks and beaches. Your day is already off to a good start and it can only get better from here. Time for a shower and some breakfest before you hit the gym.
After hitting a new PR on the deadlift and flirting with the cute receptionist chick for a bit you go for a lunch at a local joint and this girl who is serving you
Compliments your athletic physique. You already have a ton of girls that hit you up for sex daily so you just say thanks and she leaves to get your order. While waiting for it you get a call from the Thundercock Magazine and set up a meeting with them tomorrow to discuss your paycheck. It's looking pretty good so far - upwards of 20k for a photoshoot. Suddenly you feel a surge of energy from this just as the waitress returns with your food. You have a change of heart and tell her to meet you outside on her break.
Once there you go for a ride in your sports car with her and are feeling up her silky smooth inner thigh while driving towards your go to place for smashing chicks in your car - a parking lot near an abandoned factory. No one ever goes there so you are sure you can fuk her even in broad daylight without any interruptions. You pull over and she starts unzipping your pants...
After you're done with her you drive her back to her chitty work and surely enough she is trying to get your number, telling you you're the hottest guy she's ever been with and so on. You're sure you don't wanna meet her again because her blowjob skills suked compared to Cindy. So you lie and tell her to just give you her number and that you'll hit her up later. She buys it.
This has left you tired and you plan to go meet your ex later so you head home to get a nap before you go out with the intention of laying pipe again.
They've escaped the rat race. No 40 hour weeks, no hours spent in traffic commuting, no deadlines to worry about, no essays to research, no projects to lose hair over. No forcing yourself to wake up early, force-feeding for energy even if not hungry.
You wake up at 10am after a full night of GH-releasing sleep. Your hair looks effortlessly styled even when messy. You eat your breakfast and take a shirtless selfie "cooking eggs!" "it's bacon time!" and post it to IG.�
You put on a plain white tee and some jeans. You haven't shaved or showered and your wardrobe is as basic as it gets but NONE of it matters because your face just makes everything work. It's the uglies who agonize over which direction to style their hair or how much stubble to trim or what shirt to wear with what pants to look good. All irrelevant to you.
Then your ride comes to pick you up. A limo from the agency to take you to your photoshoot of the day. You spend 2-3 hours in good lighting with a female model, posing and cracking jokes with snack breaks in between. You collect your fat paycheck and head out.
In between all this you've gotten literally hundreds of IOIs from women - on the street, on the train, in the grocery store. The entire world is like a runway because chicks keep GAWKING at you and cant control themselves. You have to hide a ****-eating grin - how can life be so amazing you wonder as you shake your head and laugh.
Now you go to the gym for some weight lifting and briefly glance at the bloated pimply moonfaces high-fiving each other over their 4 plate squats. You see a chick secretly snapping a pic of you from the corner of your eye but ignore it and laugh.
80th text message of the day comes in. It's the desperate sloot from tinder who has messaged you 3 times in a row, begging you to be her FWB. You don't feel like smashing though and just want to play video games. This thought doesn't give you any second-doubts or cognitive dissonance or anxiety over turning down sexors because posse is a never-ending stream for you, a commodity.�
Quick check on instagram - your unshaven unshowered selfie has 80000 likes with 9/10 hbbs posting kissy emojis and tagging their hot friends�
"@kayley this is the guy i was telling you about!"�
"future husband"�
"I.CANT.BREATHE"�
"@tiffanyyy @jessicaxo @amber92 ohmy****ingGOD"
Another stream of endorphins release upon seeing this validation. The tenth time today. Better than any drug out there. Heroin without the side effects. You smile as your self-esteem is satiated. Your genetics are celebrated. You are intrinsically desired Women want you for you. Not your money or your social connections, they want YOU.
Next day you wake up in your king sized bed feeling fresh af. Reach over for your phone to check for messages. Sure enough you have 3 new ones.
First one is from Cindy, the girl you banged last night after matching her on tinder:
"Hey. Had a great time yesterday, can't wait to see you again�"
"Cool", you think to yourself, and skip to the next one. It's from a modeling agency that you sent your photos to a couple weeks ago.�
"Good morning. We'd like to notify you that you were chosen as the new face of Thundercock Magazine. Congratulations. They will give you a call later today."
Awesome. You check the next message. It's from sophia, one of your exes:
"Hi. Just remembered about our trip to Italy and feeling a little nostalgic. Wanna catch up later tonight? Drinks on me
You burst into laughter as you remember the Italy trip. You were fuking her multiple times a day while there, sometimes even sneakily getting it done in public parks and beaches. Your day is already off to a good start and it can only get better from here. Time for a shower and some breakfest before you hit the gym.
After hitting a new PR on the deadlift and flirting with the cute receptionist chick for a bit you go for a lunch at a local joint and this girl who is serving you
Compliments your athletic physique. You already have a ton of girls that hit you up for sex daily so you just say thanks and she leaves to get your order. While waiting for it you get a call from the Thundercock Magazine and set up a meeting with them tomorrow to discuss your paycheck. It's looking pretty good so far - upwards of 20k for a photoshoot. Suddenly you feel a surge of energy from this just as the waitress returns with your food. You have a change of heart and tell her to meet you outside on her break.
Once there you go for a ride in your sports car with her and are feeling up her silky smooth inner thigh while driving towards your go to place for smashing chicks in your car - a parking lot near an abandoned factory. No one ever goes there so you are sure you can fuk her even in broad daylight without any interruptions. You pull over and she starts unzipping your pants...
After you're done with her you drive her back to her chitty work and surely enough she is trying to get your number, telling you you're the hottest guy she's ever been with and so on. You're sure you don't wanna meet her again because her blowjob skills suked compared to Cindy. So you lie and tell her to just give you her number and that you'll hit her up later. She buys it.
This has left you tired and you plan to go meet your ex later so you head home to get a nap before you go out with the intention of laying pipe again.
