The woman question 3: girls interface with reality through Media and you have to save them

if you have two gfs you will soon have zero gfs/I will never forgive you John Oliver

I was dating a girl I met on tinder. We moved very slowly, because “her last boyfriend abused her”. Sound familiar? That’s because that’s every single girl you will ever meet again in your life, if you’re over 18.

At the time I was really happy about it. I had had my feelings hurt real bad in a string of relationships, and in a kind of perverse way I was happy that she wasn’t hypersexual and fucked me on the first date. I thought that meant that we were building something. It made me think highly of her that she had any kind of boundaries.

We'd been going out for coffee and bird watching for a couple of weeks. She was very sweet and gentle. I felt secure with her - I knew everything about her. When you’ve saved one girl from her traumatic ex, you’ve saved them all. Save the girl save the world.

the two genders

Then I met my soulmate. Also on tinder. I felt guilty about going out with her but I told myself that trying to court multiple women was “normal” and “cool actually”, because that’s what they do on TV and that’s what the bilderberg group wants you to think. And because i’m really insecure with a fragile ego and the idea is flattering.

She was Norwegian and studying architecture. We met at my go to date spot, because I could tell girls I had “performed” there. First date was an hour, in the evening. An hour is a good amount of time for a first date. You can keep the novelty and momentum going past the “he’s not an axe murderer” stage, and keep it during the “actually getting to know someone” second date. Unfortunately she turned out to be an axe murderer, and I just wasn’t paying attention.

I told her I was worried I’d talked to much about myself. She laughed. She could understand everything I was saying in Danish, and I couldn’t understand a word she said in Norwegian. This gave me the impression that she understood me better than I understood her, which was all I had looked for in a woman since I was 18 years old.

You know how when Sam Hyde says “don’t look for a girl to complete you, you know what will complete you? A man with Asperger’s”? The female version of that is a woman with bipolar disorder.

The very next day I saw her again. Trying to wrap my head around “dating”, I took her to a movie, because that’s what they do in the movies. We saw a Korean family drama in the local art house cinema and then went for a walk in the city, looking at the old buildings. I kissed her once and we walked around holding hands. She told me about studying architecture and I told her about my friend who is a Game Designer, who told me the secret to level design is that you cant put anything important above the player, because “nobody ever looks up”.

Then I walked her home, and we had sex. It was incredibly intimate and it felt like we had known each other for months. It felt like we had known each other forever. Perfectly attuned. Staying up all night, going back and forth literally until morning, then lying in bed and smoking cigarettes and eating chocolate. The last time it was that intimate and that good, I dated that girl for two years and we moved in together, and I solved all her childhood trauma about having an alcoholic dad, and she thought we would grow old together and move out in the country and live in a yurt together. We incidentally broke up because she went to Norway for school and I didn’t trust her not to fuck anyone while she was there, without my constant supervision.

We fell asleep clinging on to each other, in a yin-yang shaped mutual fetal position. It felt like I had known her all my life. Perfect acceptance. Perfect intimacy.

and she was thin and had big tits and I liked her hair

The next day I went home, and I had absolute certainty that this was it. The hunt was over. it’s over. we’re back. I found her. I told the other girl that I wasn’t going to see her again. She, to my great disappointment, didn’t seem that disappointed, and just said “yeah that’s probably for the best”.

When I got home, I noticed I had forgotten a necklace at her place. I’d fashioned it myself, a key without teeth. A key that fits into every lock, but can’t open a single one. I thought that was clever. I texted my assumed new girlfriend about it, and she didn’t answer.

When I got home I looked up the names of the pill bottles she had had on the table in her extremely messy room, and I had some bad thoughts. Anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, that seems pretty bad. hmm. But I was in love, and I figured we could work through it. I’ve saved girls before and all that.

The last time I saw her, I came over to get my necklace. She invited me in and she explained that she thought this was a bad vibe from me - like I had forgotten it on purpose, to have an excuse to have sex with her again. “It feels like something that would happen on Seinfeld”, she said.

We were interrupted by her mother calling her. she asked me to sit and wait, so I sat and waited on her bed, while listening to her family drama. She got off the phone and we talked about it. I was so sure. I was so in. I just knew. I could see the path.

Her room looked like she had just moved in. Everything was a mess. A hanging mirror you could put up in 10 seconds was just standing on the floor. She had been living there for 6 months.

Then she had sex with me again. And it was exactly as intimate and exactly as perfect. It wasn’t about the sex really. It was about the aftermath. Sex is a toll you pay to get to the intimacy, compassion, the embracing. Clinging to each other as you fall asleep with her head on your chest. Being naked together, without pretence. Feeling seen and held and accepted. Loved. Known. Forgiven.

In the morning she put on The Daily Show With John Oliver, and watched it with her head on my chest. Put her laptop on my lap and her head on my chest, and watched John Oliver. I told her I didn’t really pay attention to politics. Which was true at the time. She just took it all in unfiltered. Infotainment. Propagantainment. Laughing along with the laugh track. It broke my heart. I understand the men who simp for their wives and girlfriends, and just play along with their delusions. I was tempted to. But I just couldn’t. John Oliver is just too disgusting. I couldn’t stomach it. The bipolar disorder, the psychosis, I was willing to brave it all. I was ready. In my head I was already there, as I said, I could See The Path. But her watching John Oliver and genuinely enjoying it was so much worse.

this ugly motherfucked destroyed the most beautiful woman in the world and corrupted her soul irreversibly and he is one of the most evil people in the world and I hate him forever

I’ve had girlfriends with weird tastes before. One really liked reality television, back when that was still a thing. One really liked a particular police procedural about serial killers. But I’d never before been with someone who watched “the news”.

She texted me that she didn’t want to see me again and ever since I have dedicated my life to the destruction of John Oliver and everything that he stands for*.

(*metaphorically, political and professional destruction. in self defence. by deconstructing media and creating a new mode of being, a new dasein for the 21st century, in which we can be free from the designs of the satanic monsters who have brainfucked billions to braindeath. There will be no victory in our lifetime. There will be no victory in this century. We are in conflict with forces which plan in centuries, and the internet was a HUGE win for them. We are in the middle of a Great Culling. Either literally with the stuff going on right now, we’ll see how that works out, but even if that’s a nothingburger, people are still not having children and they are still killing themselves, and things will only get worse. Things are only going to get worse and weirder and more fucked up for the rest of our lives. We will win, because light always wins, and this is a historical anomaly, that the Force of History will eventually flatten them. We are currently in an Exodus event, we are in Egypt under the pharaoh, and the only thing we can do in our lifetimes is to walk the desert until we sort out a new written tradition and re-establish our connection to the Generative Principle - in short, find a way to live. It will take some trial and error to establish our new mode of being, in which we deal with The Machine/living in a 5G world, and it will be the first generation born after we have figured that out, that will achieve victory over the forces of evil that are currently attempting to close off the world to divinity in a great pagan ritual of Burnt Offering, creating the greatest fire that has ever been in history: industrial society, by way of coal and oil, covering the sky in black smoke to close the world off from the sight of God. It can only be them, because it will take them being born and raised in the New Tradition. Ours is a dark age of toil and m*rtyrdom (I disavow all violence, I am referring to the common crucifixions and persecutions of the early Christians - shoutout to saint Paul) and if you want inspiration on how to live, do not look to stoics or internet influencers, but to the desert fathers of the 4th century. We, you and I, are already the desert fathers of the HyperReal and our task is the creation of a new tradition, to do for the virtual what they did for the Spirit. These motherfuckers were hanging out in a desert and just vibing, until the echoes of their song conquered Rome. Read “Sayings of the desert fathers”)

Now I know some of you naysayers are going to say something about how, it wouldn’t have worked anyway, because she was literally insane and irredeemable, that BPD is non-treatable and that she is doomed to live a hellish life, and I should be grateful to have dodged a bullet. But to that I say, like attracts like. It takes one to know one. I miss you Lumi. And that’s my contribution. I think that’s important.