Above all things shared, always have a safe space.

We often share our ideas on platforms to be genuinely interested in helping others. However, it is actually quite the opposite. Think about Medium.com for bloggers; now, I love this platform. Never before has it been easier to get strangers other than your Facebook friends who are worried about your sanity, so they click your blog but don’t read it. They just want to see where your head is at and make sure it’s still there or if they had to get ready to call the cavalry to come and save a hoe. I could never use that last sentence on Medium. Why? Because it’s improper. In fact, the way I write is improper.

This removes my creativity because we become more focused on trying to get paid for our writing. Some bloggers are seemingly natural at this. It’s almost as if they write something while taking a shit every morning, they press publish, and minutes later, they receive a thousand dollar check. Now, that is probably not likely, but it isn’t entirely impossible. I bet there’s at least a handful of writers who have this as a morning ritual as they take a shit. Maybe it’s their best way to feel productive while also participating in a natural and daily task. It’s almost like a prayer. A form of worship. For lack of a better description.

I think it’s important to be able to step away from any platform and have a back dialogue that your admirers can discover and be like, oh shit. There’s more to the story than what was written on Medium. That is a fact. On Medium, though I write about sexual experiences and escapades, I often leave out details. I leave enough so that it can perform as erotica and get those geeky women turned on. I actually think that reading erotica is more freaky for a woman than watching pron.

Why? Because they can do it anywhere.

They can be smack dab front and center, Holy Bible as a case but a book inside containing how some serial killer fucks the shit out of his woman before he goes out and does some assassin shit. I don’t know, I never read erotica. I just write it because it gets clicks. Except for that one time, I used my own picture as the featured thumbnail. Never again will I waste such a passive skill on losing clicks due to my beautifully designed structure, some call, and a place to sit on. See what I did there? Erotica is sometimes subtle, and this is how it should be. I remember when I first started getting laid, me and my ex would skip foreplay. We were like what?

I don’t want to say. But what the hell do we know about foreplay? All we grew up to know was kiss, touch, taste, then fuck. This all would come in phases too. Kissing would be a phase for a subjective amount of time. Eventually, one of you gets a little ahead of yourselves and becomes curious. Like, damn, what else that mouth do? Hold on there, guy, don’t try to steal third when you can’t leverage your energy to keep your foot on the base. Some people ask me if you write erotica, how come I never see it online? Well, don’t you feel justified, curious clit.

I’m Mark Twain, bitch. If you didn’t know, Mark Twain was a pseudonym. Which is like a pen name. It’s actually legal to create a false identity as long as you don’t do anything illegal. The main reason to use a fake name (and only reason) should be to protect your identity. Never use it to create something out of nothing; always use it as a proxy to keep you safe from getting your real identity stolen or shamed. Shamed? What do you mean, shamed?

Ahh… Do tell. Do you really know who your friends are? I think coronavirus, despite the fact we’re hiding our faces more than ever in history, our real faces have been exposed. I know which of my friends sell their nudes on Onlyfans.com. I don’t judge them, I actually subscribe to them for support, but I don’t even look at their work. Why? Well, maybe I already saw them naked in real life? What else is there for me? That’s like jacking off to the same porno everyday. Which, at this point, is probably the only option for 1%. While this was the norm back in the day.

We found a tape, a VCR (if you know what that is), we stuck it in, hoping the film wouldn’t get ruined or else we’d get caught. Imagine having to explain to your parents that you were not watching porno even though your dad has to pry open the VCR because the tape got stuck inside. Kids today will never understand the struggle. They complain that pron is trash. I’m like, Nah dude, your pron is trash. I get free live stream notifications whenever one of my girl-friends decides to play for the night. I’m Q-Anon, but I’m pretty sure they know I’m watching or will see it. After all, I did build their website for them. I did suggest it as a way of making money. But as they all tell me, “oh, hell no, I’m serious about my business.” From fitness to make up to hairdressing, I’ve heard it all.

Okay, okay, I’ll build your web presence. Before I know it, I do a regular web site performance check and find that they’re hardly using their website they paid me to build. And have all flocked to this one link. Only Fans. What is this, only Onlyfans?! I check it out, oh… wow. I see. I text them, “do you still need hosting cause it looks like your business is doing much better off the WordPress?” “Yeah, just leave it up, I’ll use it now and then.” Well… you should. You should always have a safe space. You never know when a platform is going to shutdown. Or if their servers are getting hacked. Whatever it is, your business based on someone else’s control can all be taken away, and you agree to their terms of service. Once that platform is gone, where are all your horny ass followers going find you? Exactly. Now, can I please have the proxy link to your OnlyFans? I’m not paying for that; you still owe me for the website.

And there you go, I get a much better experience because it’s personal. Not really. I mean, there are 10 other guys in this live stream, but when you’re turned on, it’s easy to ignore all the comments, or what I do is turn off the chat. The fuck do I need that for. I’m here for my personal experience to see my friend perform. I’m here to support her hustle. Even after I’ve fallen asleep and wake up to see, she’s still going strong. I shut my MacBook; that’s enough for the day. What time is it? 9 am? I’m going back to sleep. I’ll see my other friend at 6 pm later. I got the proxy link to hers for managing her Instagram. I mean, I already see all her stuff when I’m using her laptop.

What’s the difference? “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Yeah… and what if you sign on live and nobody comes in. How embarrassing, right? I can already hear the red pill community marching down from all corners of the red pill world to strike me for being an advocate for feminism. I would question their knowledge of the red pill. The red pill is not an agenda to only look at women as sexual objects. Want to know why that is wrong? Your sister. Your Aunt. Your Mom. Your Cousin. All Women. Want to express more of your shallow knowledge of the red pill? Exactly. Just to be a captain, save a hoe for your own good. You need to be a rationale male. Hence the book by Tomasi. In a nutshell, to not steal, add, or deduct from what has been established, you need to stop worshiping women. As in, thinking you’re lucky to have them. This is not to put down women at all. It’s just respecting yourself as a man.

You must be the prize, not her. Society has taught us and programmed us to look at women as the prized ones. But, even women don’t want to be treated this way. It’s creepy as hell. And once a woman has figured you out, you’re no longer a strange being that makes her vajayjay tingle at the sight of your eyes and the sound of your voice.