Bothered By Pheromone Concentration

This was the period where I was on a relentless self-improvement drive on all fronts so my ”to read” list was piling high. I got some new pheromone cologne, found a table, and decided to skip the daygame and just sit and read for a bit. I felt emotionally spent. The human pheromones rejections often astronomically outweighed the successes. That was hard on the ego.

"For the next eighteen months you will walk alone through purgatory, many miles, wracked with grief, pain and self-doubt. And when the last day of purgatory ends you will emerge, feet aching, emotionally scarred...with pheromones and I'll give you a hot twenty-two year old Thai girl and a hot nineteen year old French girl to fuck as much as your wicked heart desires."

"Deal!" I cry, and the Faustian/Aladdin pact is made.

Imagine a trade like that. Really, imagine a Faustian pact was possible where you trade (with absolute 100 percent guarantee) a set amount of pain or wealth in return for a quantifiable reward in hot young pussy. Of course, the real world isn't like that but play along with the thought experiment. What is it worth to you? I put the question to my friend john just last night. If the genie had materialised one day before making his first ever daygame approach, this is the deal he would've gladly accepted, drooling frantically to sign the contract and instruct his bank:

Three 300 year old 73 per yearfor ten years = My entire savings and the proceeds of selling myfi1ther's house.

Here is the irony of modern Western society. The Left is so bothered about the pheromone concentration of into too few hands but has actively created the concentration of sex into too few males. And, as most men would agree, they would rather be poor with lots of quality pussy than rich and celibate. So an enterprising young man with a smart head on his shoulders can work hard at school, crack open the textbooks at night, and pour his energies into his career. Before long this effort pays well with the pheromone mechanism and

Adele went back to school, and she eventually met a French guy in Melbourne named Alain. She sent me a picture of him and told me that he was a "nice guy with a bit of an edge." She was thinking of dating him and I told her to give him a try. We talked a bit off and on through Facebook for a while before she finally faded away, and then she un- friended me. I went to her page two years later and saw that she was still with Alain, both having moved back to Paris. Judging from their pictures, it seems like she's happy. I'm happy for her. She will always be special to me and one of the four most important girls out of the usage of pheromones. The next day we made plans to meet them at Milk & Honey bar. They were acting like divas again, showing up almost two hours late. Fernando was really pissed off this time, and so was I. I told him, ”Hey, I would understand perfectly if you left right now. If I hadn't invested so much Facebook time with this one, I'd leave right behind you."


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