3:00 am

on body count. . .

I was hypnotized as a child. I didn’t remember it until I was in my twenties. A combination of cheap dirt weed and a television show about the brain rattled something loose. I didn’t believe it was real, but the more time went on I couldn’t deny it. Someone in the Gifted and Talented program snuck into my unconscious for reasons unknown and I have been chasing that memory around ever since.

I have gone through all the usual skeptical choices, but I trust my brain. It has never let me down. I have been able to verify a slew of far flung memories and I am not prone to fanciful delusions. Granted I haven’t been able to glean a shred of evidence that my hypnosis memory is real, but I have also found no evidence to the contrary.

Whatever this artifact is, I think about it often. Lately it has been serving as a beacon when my mind is racing and I need to try to sleep. It is an experiment of sorts. A combination of that movie The Butterfly Effect and another, Somewhere in Time. The idea being, perhaps I could inject my present day consciousness into the brain of that child being hypnotized back in 1986.

What would I do if I could go back with everything I know now?

Most time travel stories are cautionary tales. Be careful what you wish for. The moral being you should be happy with the way things are because they could be worse. Tropes about the greedy nature of people trying to get rich or manipulate people into loving them. In ways I am not much different.

I would definitely buy Apple stock and Bitcoin at opportune times.

I would probably try to stay out of jail the second time around as well.

I may not be able to resist trying to be more successful with women. I mean, my track record wasn’t terrible, but there was quite a bit of angst along the way. At times I settled for things I shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t a complete incel either. I had many long term relationships with what I consider extremely beautiful women, but a part of me romanticizes the ideal of finding that one true love that lasts a lifetime.

I am a romantic at heart. I allowed myself to think true love exists. I denied myself some experience in favor of thinking I had to remain chaste in order to be rewarded with that fairy tale. As time went on I grew jaded. I let go of my childish idealism and decided to just live my life. I didn’t ever find my soul mate but I don’t know if I can blame that on having sex.

I don’t know. I have very mixed feelings when it comes to the whole body count deal. Part of me thinks I sullied my chances at that poetic ideal by not holding out. Another part thinks the whole idea of keeping track is childish. Meanwhile the culture wants me to let go of the past and at the same time be held accountable for old shit?

Fuck outta here.

I want to ask these manosphere alfalfa bro dudes a few questions to understand this better. Mainly I am curious what counts as a body these females need to be ashamed of. Sex doesn’t come with a black and white definition so what exactly are we talking about here? Does oral count? What about self love? Anal? Does a woman have to add to her number if it is girl on girl?

What if that girl wears a strap-on? By that definition, any time a dildo is used whether by another or solo that would be about the same thing, so what then? Does it only count if there is a another person in the room? What if the other person in the room is just watching and not actively participating? Cam girls must be stacking numbers by the millions.

The lines are so fuzzy.

What about assault? Does a woman have to increase her count if she didn’t ask for it? I mean if we are trying to establish some sort of shortcut to a persons moral desirability then it shouldn’t matter. When a culture starts to believe a woman should be punished for being victimized, I am pretty sure that isn’t a great direction to be going.

Caveat after caveat. Somehow I am supposed to believe that if a woman is in a monogamous relationship and has sex 1000 times a year, that it somehow better than if she has sex twice with two different people. I know my brain doesn’t work the same as everyone else but in my mind 2 is fewer than 1000.

Either way I don’t fucking care. Giving a fuck about what other people do with their bodies is pretty far down on the list of shit that matters to me paying my mortgage.

Needing a woman to be a virgin is mostly just an insecure and immature position. Some sort of throwback when you could trade a couple of goats for someone’s daughter. It is just another in a long line of powerless people trying to exert some authority over someone else. It’s tiresome and weak.

I am sorry you have no confidence in your sex game or that your penis is afraid of competition. It’s not the fault of the female collective that you are all up in your feelings about some violation of your puritanical expectations. Oh, and you can loosen that death grip on the one statistic you keep spouting about successful relationships and their correlation to past partner numbers.

Read some Freakonomics and shut the fuck up about it already.

At the same time I will give those alfalfa sprout pill heads their due. When I was young and looking for someone to build a life with, strippers and prostitutes weren’t my first choice. There is an undeniable disgust reflex when a girl you like has been running roughshod through your hometown. Whether or not it is intellectually honest, emotionally a man given the choice between to women otherwise exactly the same, will choose the one with fewer bodies.

Even if it is one fewer.

Right or wrong it is the reality we live in.

There is also a limit. There is a stark difference between racking up 7 partners in a year and 700. One is whatever, the other is starting to feel like there might be some psychological trauma. In the end a man is going to make a choice on whether or not he feels the person he is investing in will be a good investment. Some indicators are red flags.

The core of the argument from the alfalfa crowd in this regard is the idea of value. It is pretty disgusting to cram a human being into a financial metric but there is a sliver of truth to it. Humans are attracted to valuable things, and when you break it all down there is nothing more valuable than a woman. It isn’t even that the world would end if there were no women, if the population of women drops to under 45% the entire human population collapses to zero.

Women are required for the species to survive. The same is not true of men. We can send millions of men to war to die and the consequences are slight. I mean it isn’t good to send all your farmers to the front lines or you end up with mass starvation, but for the most part men are expendable. We hate to hear this but only because we all know it’s true deep down.

Sorry bro bro. I know we make the world work, but women make the species work.

At the same time there is a disconnect in how women are moving in the space. Statistics aren’t always wrong, and these alfalfa fucks are garnering more attention than that nice, sweet, completely average and boring guy girls only want after they have been fucked over a few times by the alfalfa bros.

Men have a point when it comes to lopsided divorces, child custody attitudes, the value of fatherhood, men’s mental health, and having to raise other peoples kids. Life as a man isn’t all fucking sunshine and rainbows, and it really sucks to lose the life you have been building because some alfalfa bad boy makes your woman tingle for a night.

Yes the sex with other men bothers us, but not for the reason you think. It isn’t about what you are doing with your body so much as what the consequences could be to the stability of the life we invested in. Men have a lot to lose if a woman increases her body count.

Pregnancy, disease, divorce, these things are expensive.

At the same time body count only matters when you are young or if you are chasing some alfalfa douche who thinks he has more value than you. Yes, partner numbers reflect certain attitudes and behavioral choices that aren’t always ideal, but I would much rather have a woman in my life that fucks a lot than drinks a lot.

I am sure the virgin meth head isn’t climbing the value ladder.

I know that at 50 years old if I met an attractive woman who loved me I wouldn’t even ask. I don’t need the same things today as I needed 30 years ago, and the number of previous sexual encounters is inconsequential to my hierarchy of need.

So yeah. If I could go back in time I would probably care less about a woman’s past and care a lot more about my future. I would remain unburdened by the expectations of others knowing they have no idea what it is like to live my life.

Walk a mile in my shoes?

Shit. Try getting down the block.