There's a post on the Manhattan private section where the original poster is retiring from mongering for "diminishing connections during amp visits and money." One commenter said this hobby can be an addiction. That got me thinking.
The most important things a woman can bring to a man, by order of importance, are: children, motherhood, sex, companionship, and wifely duties. Guess which one I'm only interested in?
Bringing children into this world and raising them well are linked, naturally, but I shrug at these. I don't have any brood (at least, not that I know of) and I don't plan to.
Companionship would be nice and I have some platonic female friends, but it's mostly intentional that I don't get close to women, even if I'm sleeping with them. I'll circle back to this later.
Having a woman cook and clean for me would be nice but I can pay for these as well. This sentiment is actually why we're all here.
I'm in my early 40s. I have a buddy who's a few years older. He's single, tall, slim, has no kids, makes decent money, and lives alone in a major city. He has almost zero interest in mongering despite my constant yapping about it. "I'd rather have a girlfriend," he wishes regularly, "but she'd have to be curious and creative like me" which is usually followed by a shopping list of other attractive feminine traits, both physical and emotional, all of which are rare these days.
"What about sex?" I asked. "How important is a great sex life for you?" Turns out having great sex with his imaginary girlfriend is not even in the Top 5 list. It fell somewhere behind watching TV together and making each other laugh. I rolled my eyes and that's quite a feat given my two tiny Korean slits to my darkened soul.
Sex is by far the best thing a woman can give to me. Even if I had a steady partner the only barometer of that relationship I value is how often and how good the sex is. She can be as funny as Louis CK, she can be as loyal as a golden retriever, she can be a great friend in time of need but ... I already have access to these: I can go see a comedy show, I can get a dog, I already have great friends. A woman for me must be a great fuck and any other quality is a nice bonus. Companionship from a woman has to be a sexual one: pillow talk, flirting, slapping each other's ass at home while cooking, getting her to blow me while in movie theaters, etc. Trying to get a woman to fulfill my non-sexual needs is like trying to get drunk on non-alcoholic beer. C'mon. It'd be nice to have a good, steady one but it won't last long, let alone lasting well. A woman is not a vending machine that gives a man peace and happiness if he inserts money and time.
You don't pay them for sex; you pay them to leave. Honestly, the lack of connection while mongering is what I want and what I'm paying for. It's like dancing. I just want to know what kind of a person you are on the dance floor. I'm not here to discover you hate peanut butter or your mother is an alcoholic. Just dance with me for a few songs, then we part. Maybe I'll see you again, maybe I won't. It's fine. It's beautiful. It's life.
Maybe some of us won't agree with such a positive view on this degeneracy. But still, sex, amongst other necessities, takes up a lot of real estate in a man's brain. Unlike most non-mongering men out there, we're not backed up, we're not desperate for it, we don't make dumb mistakes like some civilian men do. The ones who don't monger regularly are almost certainly the ones shitting where they eat, risking their careers and livelihood. The celebrities who monger and have been caught seem to cum-back fine: Hugh Grant, Tiger Woods, Robert Kraft, et al. If anything, we're probably over-sexed, satisfied and emptied out by near-dime pieces who treat us like a king for an hour at a time.
I'm no longer living every weekend trying to do things I don't want to do in order to attract women who will never sleep with me anyways. The cover charge and overpriced drinks are now well worth the pure tragic comedy I see at a club when the guys are drooling over the girls in their little black dresses. So what, I can stop by an amp and see a lineup of bottle-rat doppelgangers that night, big deal.
Is this hobby an addiction? (Armchair therapy sure is a popular game these days.) It can be, but so can practically anything else, including work and working out. As long as it's not ruining my life, I'm good with it. I've been keeping a log of amp visits and sugar baby dates, so that definitely holds me back. The amount of money spent is eyebrow raising, but there are tangible, serious upsides.
This hobby helps me focus at work, puts me at ease socially, stops me from being a creep to women (it's the messenger, not the message), and leads me to enjoy dining and traveling alone. I am a man of peace. Maybe I'll have a lucky lady in my life some day, but I don't wish for wishful thinking.
For now I will monger forever or die trying. As a ghost I will still be asking for lineups at the ghost amp, praying the ghost girls are not more than 5000 years old.
