Man To Womankind: “Your Pussy Is Powerless. My Seed Is Gold.”

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Nice Move

I came upon an essay this morning written by a blogger who goes by the name “LaidNYC.” His name, in conjunction with his tagline (“I’ll love you forever until you turn 30”), leads me to believe his blog has something to do with getting laid in NYC. To some extent, it is, but it’s more about not getting laid in NYC…because he’s too good for all of the women who are dying to have sex with him. This particular post, written in poetic prose, has garnered itself some attention. Titled “Your Seed Is Gold,” I can’t decide whether it makes me want to laugh, cry, or castrate someone.

Your Seed Is Gold

Sex is too easy.

Work out, put on nice clothes, talk to girl, tease her, tell her cool things about me, pretend to be interested in her, fuck her.

See?

Too fucking easy.

It’s stupid.

I don’t give a shit about sex. Any broad can spread her legs.

You know what I do care about? Holding girls to a higher standard.

Why? Because my seed is liquid fucking gold and I don’t give it out like its god damn tap water.

See girls, your pussy is powerless to me. What else you got?

You slip on a tight skirt and throw on some makeup and flaunt those nice tits and think your job is done. You shit-test me all the way into the bedroom expecting me to give you amused mastery and show you my status and give you attention and ignore you just right all at the same time, and then you’ll give me sex.

But why should I give you my valuable time and let you revel in my charisma?

Sex, is that the big deal? I’m supposed to feel so grateful that you blessed me with that magical unicorn pussy of yours?

I got news for you girls. For a guy with any clue, finding sex is as easy as finding a pizzeria in New York, and like pizza in New York, its all pretty fucking good.

Your brand ‘aint that special.

Sex is everywhere and anywhere I want it, I don’t give a shit about yours.

It takes more than a nice curve of the ass or a bat of the eyelashes to earn my seed.

My salty essence and genetic code is a gift from my father, and his father, and his father, and on it goes. Its the sticky genetic code of self-sufficient men who have protected and provided for family, women and children. Its the haplogroup of men who built civilization. I have the genetic lineage of warriors, business owners, firefighters, blacksmiths, farmers, herders, poets, politicians, soldiers, artists and even chefs. Hard jobs that help build the world, thinking jobs that help build a culture, they’ve all been done by men in my bloodline. My ceiling for accomplishment is limitless.

I’m not some average guy begging to give my seed away. My seed is valuable and I know it.

Men of lesser genetics may be able to afford spraying their seed anywhere; I allow myself no such atrocities.

My sperm could populate an entire society of strong good looking altruistic people and any girl who takes it in would be lucky to be a vessel towards that new world.

But for that I demand a high price.

Whether or not our sex is intended to end in pregnancy makes no difference. Just the sheer fact that it could makes me demand the same high price.

You better have enviable genetics yourself- I don’t breed with inferior stock. Beauty is the minimum and you better know how important that is. Long hair grown to impress me, healthy diet and exercise to maintain your figure and viability of your eggs.

But the beauty that draws the stares, stutters and drools of lesser men won’t capture my attention for more than a millisecond. I am inundated with a surplus of beauty in my daily pursuits, I can assure you that yours ‘aint that special. You probably look like shit first thing in the morning or on the first day of your period.

I expect impeccable hygiene and classy style. A body tainted by tattoos and excessive piercings and slutty clothing signals you are available for sex to lesser men than myself. I’ll have none of that.

I demand a low N count to show you value your body and sex, and the seed I am about to give you will be appreciated on the level it deserves. A low N count shows both intelligence and confidence as you are smart enough not to give your body to charlatans and scoundrels, and confident enough to wait for the high value man you know you deserve.

I expect manners and grace. No swearing, drunkenness, burping, sarcasm or anything else unbecoming of a lady. I spend a lot of time working with and competing against men in my daily life, the last thing I need is the company of a woman who acts like the men I must compete with. You exist to soothe, not to grate.

A year from now I will be richer and fitter and more socially respected in the Kingdom, but your beauty will have faded a notch. I demand that you treat me with the humility and respect that this biological reality dictates.

Finally, there is nothing I despise more than a woman who shows any disgust for my jizz.
It is the Royal Essence and you better enjoy every last drop.
If it lands on your face, chest or back, consider it raindrops from heaven, a rope of Holy Yogurt.
If you are lucky enough to get it in your mouth, savor it like the nourishing nectar of the Gods.
If I shoot it inside you consider it the greatest compliment of all. You will feel an immediate buzz.
My jizz is to women what Walter White’s pure blue meth is to junkies.
You’ll take my seed, sweetly tell me “thank you sir” and buzz with happy feminine energy for the next day while you iron my fine shirts and indulge in memories of me.

I’ll settle for nothing less.

Some girls don’t want to respect a man that much. They have been poisoned by feminism or never had a strong male figure to look up to growing up or they have already taken far too high a volume of cock to revere their next one. I have no use for those girls. Even a one-night stand with them is worthless beyond the ten-second orgasm, itself not worth the time spent to get it. Leave them for the men who have a low enough opinion of themselves to not demand such respect.

For guys, I don’t give a shit how many girls you’ve fucked just like I don’t give a shit how many pizzerias you’ve eaten at. A man is measured more by the pizzeria’s he refuses to eat at, the prices he refuses to pay for average pizza, if you know what I mean.

Remember, you set the price of your seed.

Mine is fucking gold.

What’s yours?

I thought about breaking this down line by line, but decided, ultimately, that would be more bitter than anything. By refraining from using that format, I was unable to highlight some of the best parts. I see a lot of things in this essay. Humor is one of them, though the author makes it clear in the comments section that none was intended, which makes it funnier. So, before I delve into a response, it’s just absolutely necessary for me to recount a few of my favorite, most hilarious, and most ridiculous lines and phrases.

“Magical unicorn pussy”

“My seed is liquid fucking gold and I don’t give it out like it’s god damn tap water.”

“My salty essence”

“My sperm could populate an entire society of strong good looking altruistic people and any girl who takes it in would be lucky to be a vessel towards that new world.”

“It takes more…to earn my seed.”

“I don’t breed with inferior stock.”

“You probably look like shit first thing in the morning or on the first day of your period.”

“A year from now I will be richer and fitter and more socially respected in the Kingdom.”

And the best part…

“Finally, there is nothing I despise more than a woman who shows any disgust for my jizz.
It is the Royal Essence and you better enjoy every last drop.
If it lands on your face, chest or back, consider it raindrops from heaven, a rope of Holy Yogurt.
If you are lucky enough to get it in your mouth, savor it like the nourishing nectar of the Gods.
If I shoot it inside you consider it the greatest compliment of all. You will feel an immediate buzz.
My jizz is to women what Walter White’s pure blue meth is to junkies.
You’ll take my seed, sweetly tell me “thank you sir” and buzz with happy feminine energy for the next day while you iron my fine shirts and indulge in memories of me.”

Look. Nobody likes semen. We’re not living in a world where women are just ravenous creatures in pursuit of their next jizz-filled meal. It’s merely the unpleasant aftermath of a romp in the sack. Anyone who’s experienced sex outside of what’s available to them on YouPorn knows that. I’m not saying I think you’re a virgin, but yes I am. The love stories you see in romantic comedies don’t represent reality, and the sex you see in pornography doesn’t represent reality either. It’s all fiction, written for the purpose of entertainment. Once you learn that that’s not real, I think your expectation for a woman who is hungry for your seed will be congruent with reality, where a dick’s just a dick, and semen is just another goopy bodily fluid. It’s the man attached to it that’s important to us (because of what he brings to a relationship, not the bedroom). Just like “any woman can spread her legs,” any man can enter jackhammer mode and turn into something we laugh about at brunch on Sunday morning. You’re no different. You can value yourself and be selective about whom you sleep with, but don’t pretend you’re holding out on us. Like you said, sex is too easy for men with a clue, but it’s even easier still for a woman.

Some of your points are valid. Every man — every person — should respect themselves, and love themselves, and try their hardest to get the best things out of life. There’s nothing wrong with having high standards for your partner. What you’ve done, however, has gone beyond articulating some preferences. You’ve presented a list of demands for a woman, and suggested that anyone who doesn’t meet your ideal is unworthy of you and your golden seed (and all this time, I thought there were only golden eggs!).

Your entire argument, your pretension, exists solely on the basis of your ability to overlook a woman’s beauty, your ability not to fall victim to her sexual prowess, and your ability to abstain from sex. You see beauty as a rouse, and sex as plentiful, so you say. You are not like other “average” men. T&A do not appeal to you (what’s that say about your manhood, huh?), and in order to “earn your seed,” a woman must be more than good looks, (though she better know how important those are).

So, what does it take to win you? Must she be intelligent? Interesting? Successful? Talented? Clever? No mention of those traits. They’re becoming of a man. You compete with men all day long (men who are more intelligent, more interesting, more successful, more talented, and more clever) and you don’t want to have to compete any more. You’re desperate for a person incapable of making you feel inferior. You need someone who won’t challenge you, but soothe you after a long day of keeping up with the big boys. You want a woman, who for one small portion of your day, allows you to feel like an actual man.

The only important thing to you, in a woman, is that she reveres you, so as to alleviate any and all feelings of inadequacy you have. If she does not, she is flawed. She is unsuitable because she doesn’t recognize your greatness. She must never have seen a man so strong, or perhaps she’s seen too many. She must take pleasure only in pleasing you, because if she doesn’t, you’d have to face the fact that maybe you don’t know how to please a woman. You should be enough. Your orgasm should be what makes her “feel an immediate buzz” and “indulge in memories of you” as she does your chores.

Yet, you emphasize that you want a woman who respects herself. A woman who’s never been with a lesser man. It’s important to you that she so values your SEMEN, the literal boogers of your penis, that she not disrespect it by having seen the same bodily fluid of other men. You want a girl who’s lived her whole life in a manner that’s best suited to someday please you. A girl like that, a girl who’s put her entire existence on hold in order to please a man does not respect herself. She is neither confident, nor intelligent, nor dignified. A girl who submits to a partner’s demands does not value herself, or sex, or sex with you. She values approval.

You’ve repeatedly confused two very different things. Reverence and respect. I need to make something very clear. Many women are very happy to make their men happy, myself included, because when you connect with somebody and care about them, you want them to be happy. But make no mistake, that is a two-way street. Having needs outside his happiness, and expecting that he puts forth an effort to make sure those needs are met, equally, does NOT mean she respects him any less. It means she respects herself. She sees that viewing him as important doesn’t mean viewing herself as unimportant. Viewing him as a man means viewing herself as a woman — not a possession, not a subordinate.

Still, you’re entitled to your contradictory pre-requisites for intercourse with you, but I wonder, what exactly makes you so deserving of this beautiful, pristine, selfless woman? Sure, you’ve come from a line of “warriors, business owners, firefighters, blacksmiths, farmers, herders, poets, politicians, soldiers, artists and even chefs,” as have thousands upon thousands of other men, but I’m not interested in what your father’s done, or what his father’s done. We all come from great men, and we all come from ordinary men (and from women, mind you). But what have YOU done? What makes YOU so extraordinary? What, pray tell, makes your semen “fucking liquid gold?”

The fact that you told me so?

I could tell you until the end of time that I’m beautiful, but that doesn’t make it any more or less true. I could tell you that I’m smart, and that I’m funny, and that I’m interesting. I could tell you that I’m worthy. I could tell you that I’m great. But words are cheap. Spewing bullshit of your own baseless fabulousness does not make you any more fabulous. It does not make anybody want you any more. And it does not make your semen gold.

Your belief system comes from a place of insecurity. Everyone should have a partner who makes them feel wonderful, and I appreciate women who are womanly, and men who are manly, but if you need a woman whose sole purpose is to ensure that your ego remains unbruised, to make you feel like a man, then you’re not much of a man at all.

Next time, guy, save us all some time, and explicitly write what your words really say: “I have a small penis.”

[via Jezebel, Word Press]

Image via therainbowbabies.com

***

Veronica (@VeronicaRuckh) is the Director of Total Sorority Move for Grandex, Inc. After having spent her undergraduate years drinking $4 double LITs on a patio and drunk texting away potential suitors, she managed to graduate with an impressive GPA and an unimpressive engagement ring -- so unimpressive, in fact, some might say it's not there at all. Veronica has since been fulfilling her duties as "America's big," a title she gave to herself with the help of her giant ego. She has recently switched from vodka to wine on weekdays. Email her at veronica@grandex.co

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