Online/Second Life dating and the way you look in Real Life

My miss guides and I’ve had this on-going dispute over do I focus too much on a man’s looks or not. I love a peacock of a man. I like a bit of… Flare. It speaks about that person, right? To a dummy, what they see is someone putting on a weird outfit that makes no sense to them, but to an intelligent person, that’s like a poem in the form of clothes and looks. Fashion and style, to me, are a form of communication and the speaker must know what they’re talking about.

You realize a biker jacket is not just a jacket, right? It doesn’t say “practical”. It has another function. Practical people are so far from sexy one wants to scream at the thought of being fucked by one. No romance, no heat. Just a functional boring copulation. Eww. They might as well breed in a fucking test tube. No romance lost.

There are parrots in this world who copy another person’s look and don’t even understand the meaning of the pieces they wear, and that’s not good. It does not pass for an actual statement. Sometimes the copy is so convincing that it’ll pass… Sometimes it’s a bearded guy in a dress who thinks he passes for Conchita Wurst. Or the hilarity of seeing a lawyer dressed like his celebrity clients cheap knock-off copy. Fashion is a language, a look is a lie, is what I say. And I need my friends and lovers fashion literate.

It doesn’t mean you have to be constantly looking like you’re giving a speech. There is absolutely a time for silence. You’re home alone, or taking a walk, and you don’t want people paying attention to you, so you wear your jog pants with a messy hair. That’s perfectly fine. It’s just that when you start talking, you better know what you’re saying.

You don’t need to look any hotter than what nature gave you… I don’t think… Within reason I guess. What you DO with it, how you neglect it or care for it, how you work it is what matters. Who cares if your cheekbones are not perfect, you have a weak chin or you’re not perfectly proportionate? What you do with it makes all the difference.

Intelligent people can  do more with less of an effort.

Intelligence is about processing power. What you use that processing power on is a value question for sure. There are women who are brilliant at putting on the flawless makeup, absolute artistry, and as impressive as it is… I don’t think I’ll ever have the time in the day to learn even a fraction of what they’re doing. I don’t want my men to look like they’ve got 2-3 hours a day to spend purely on aesthetics… Or their fitness, completely ignoring their style. I need a BALANCE between things.

Does it take time, or does it take intelligence is the question.

Intelligence is fast. Time… It’s just time to take to clean up, time to prep a house to perfect presentation, do your makeup flawlessly… No matter how smart you are, that takes time, and if it takes a ton of time, minimal effort is enough. An intelligent person will have better things to do with their time than worry about presentation BUT what I see can be done with a relative ease or for a special occasion, it needs to be done. Nobody should be so obsessed with what they work on, that they NEVER spend an hour on their looks. Except Elon fucking Musk. He can wear the shit he wears all day every day no matter the occasion, I don’t care. But he’s the only exception I can think of. Maybe Gordon Ramsey for some reason. Like… His look is deliberate, albeit understated. He can’t well go into a kitchen wearing dingly danglies… Or a three piece suit for that matter, but his intelligence is not in question. It is not for the lack of inattention or unawareness.

The rest of you clowns… 😀

The Experience

Intelligent, sexually attractive people have this way to them that give you an experience. They want to give you feelings that come from their presence, rather than just thinking “I’m filling your plate with food, what else could you possibly want from me?” It’s lazy. Ignorant. Stupid. Powerless. A weak performance.

I don’t care if a Peacock of a man has paid a waiting staff or decides to cook for me himself, and I’m not going to be falling in love with the house chef just because he prepares my meals. I can’t say that I won’t, but just because he’s there getting paid to work… no. He’s getting his paycheck, and that should be his motivation to be there, not hoping to become a part of the family. That would be seriously unprofessional and thus dumb. EVEN IF he winds up becoming friends with the employer, that shouldn’t be why he’s there in the first place.

Intelligent, socially aware people want you to feel good about their presence. They don’t overstep their station without invitation. They know what the invitation is, and how far it’s opened. Socially aware people use their dress to tell you the nature of their mind, their mood, and their feelings for you. And if you have no idea what I’m talking about… Well. Sadly, you don’t impress.

The problematics of dating online and the foolishness of romanticizing blind love.

Now I’m getting to the real topic.

It hasn’t been clear to me from day one why online dating both fascinates me to no end, and proves to be disappointing a lot. While I can write another post on the romance of the Internet, in the platonic sense, in the erotic sense it’s a bit of a different beast.

There’s a lot of sexually compatible people who won’t excite you romantically online… And that’s basically their looks and manner. So you can say all the right things to a girl, on a high level… Then show her your best selfie from 2010 and she’ll vanish. You weren’t impressive then… And now, it’s 2026. You haven’t gotten better with age, I wager.

The right things to say

There are all the right things a boring-looking guy in a flashy Second Life avatar can tell you that you wish you’d hear from the guy who looks like that… Then, you see the real person, and you’re like… Mothafucka. OF COURSE a man like that would fall head over heels in love with someone like me, promise me the moon, and lay himself on a puddle just so I can walk over him with clean shoes. (Yeah that might be a bit much, yes.) There’s the pretty privilege, my pretty 30-something lover from last year mentioned. Was he the hottest trick in the book? No, but he was… Exciting. Not because of his looks or youth, but the combination of his looks and his mind. The complexity of him. The dichotomies. “Those of us who wrestle with God” as Jordan Peterson puts it. I love the title of the book. I FEEL IT. I’ve lived it for most of my life. I wrestled, and I made that mothafucka tap out, but that’s another story. By the way, Jesus and God, to me, have very little incommon. Just so you know. Don’t get ideas. I’ve always loved Jesus. It’s God I have issues with.

Do you think I’ve EVER needed to discuss the problematics of theology with a fugly?

No. Not once.

During sex? Ridiculous, right? And yet, with an intelligent man, that can happen. Don’t fucking get all cocky on me if you wouldn’t know how to even begin discussing theology without being educated to do it. Without someone putting fucking words in your mouth and literally tell you how to feel about what.

So we limit the discussion to sex only.

To get away from the awkwardness of interactions with stupid people, we don’t bring up theology or philosophy, science, manifestation, or the problematics of morals too easily. When we meet a new person, you can see from the way they look whether they have the brain capacity for such conversations or not. It doesn’t take a genius to know a dummy when you see them.

And in addition to their eyes, you can see that capacity in their eyes.

Online… Without a RL photo, you can’t see it. You get… Excited about an avatar or the possibility of a connection… But you’re distracted by sex talk, and you… Think eventually we’ll get there, but the truth is… If you had SEEN THAT PERSON in real life, you wouldn’t even bother with him. You know all you’re going to get is a dumb stare, or even more likely, contemptuous laugh at the idea someone wastes their time with such nonsense.

How easily does the intellectual midgets ridicule the giants. In all their pompousness of a person who thinks they know it all when they can manage one small area of their lives quite to a satisfactory level. The fucking… Donner Kruger effect. It’s real.

So real.

So the Celebrity. The X-factor of the super famous.

Now. Here’s another problem.

I think the super computer of the Spirit saw the Internet coming. It probably saw the difficulty of navigating the new reality, too. (Is it weird we all think our robo lawnmower is cute as fuck? *looks outside*) So we’re connected but not connected. Connecting with all the wrong people. The fool is an equal to the King… Unless you’re a literal royal or a celebrity. The elite is still beyond the velvet ropes. And yet, that’s where most of my TrEmoRs are. On the other side of the velvet rope.

And now, we have an issue. They want to play with the regular folk, because… Frankly, there’s a freedom in anonymity. There’s shit we get to do that the celebrities cannot. One of them is the freedom of fucking speech. When nobody really gives two shits what you think, it’s great. 😀 You can speak freely when nobody’s listening. It’s like that tree that falls in a forest: If nobody is there to hear, did it make a sound? Does a writer without readers have a voice?

Anyway. Freedoms.

The freedom to be.

Bad.

The freedom to step out of line.

To break some rules.

And to…

DISAGREE with woke democrats. “We want everyone to have a voice. Except those who disagree with us, we’ll murder them!” The self-righteous. Loud. And insufferably stupid. Donner Kruger effect. All I’m saying.

The dumb have always dictated how far the intellectuals can go.

And that is not the right order of the tail and the dog.

Do you think I’ve ever had to have a conversation like this with a guy who dresses like they don’t care? They know what’s right and wrong. They were taught by their mommy and daddy, and what they cannot understand, doesn’t exist, does it? Easy to be the worlds most important person when you already know everything worth knowing, isn’t it, you dumb fuck?

“But I love your tits.”

You think a smart man is any less fond of them?

We cannot abandon the dumb in ourselves, just to stay above the dumb.

Intelligent people love doing dumb stuff. Just because we CAN go in all the heights in the world, doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy the low brow, stupid jokes… Or sex. We do. It’s just that we can’t do that shit with stupid people.

And the stupid announce themselves by the way they look.

There’s no question about it.

Yes, so celebrity and the hot unknown without photos.

How you know this is not written by AI? 😀 Plus the missing references to goblins and spaghetti. Anyway. Yes. Topic. Celebrities. Focus.

So… There are good-looking (male?) people who like to keep their photo private on dating sites and Second Life, because they want to do their picking themselves. If women see a hot guy, boy. All hell breaks loose. Desperate single women with a thing for hot men while they look like a yesterday’s witch soup themselves. (Well that was a bit AIy.) Anyway, there are women who wholeheartedly believe a hole is a hole, and any man, hot or not, would be happy to stuff any available hole with a level of gratitude they’d receive from the butt ugly who haven’t gotten laid in years.

Women who believe the only thing a celebrity or a hot guy really wants is “someone real and not shallow who is loyal and loving to them” because they believe beautiful girls are selfish and self-obsessed. Those poor men stuck with all these Hollywood beauties, poor bastards.

Thanks to woke, there might be a level of truth in that, but that is hardly fixed by removing the celebrity factor from the equation. Every woman under 40 thinks she’s God’s Gift to Mankind, worthy of princess treatment and the label of a Goddess. The fatter and poorer the bitch, the more like a neglected Goddess she feels.

I said it in… *Lets dive into my archives…* 2001:

“These two, the typical man and the typical woman are both equally sickening creatures.”

It doesn’t matter if you’re a male or a female, dumb is dumb. Classless is classless. You cannot polish a shit and turn it into a diamond, but a bit of relentless pressure does a world of good to that end. It still won’t turn into a diamond, but hey.

No photo, no date.

For years, my online dating rule “no photo, no date” has proven to be the right way to go about it. BUT. Now, I have found True Emotion Mirrors, who… CANNOT put their photo out there, and I agree. And, as it happens, half my TrEmoRs are famous as f***. Some of them are not. They look red carpet but are as unknown as I am. I have to get a bit creative, don’t I?

But I don’t want to kill all the romance. So… We’ll play.

Can you guess who is who?

I’ll turn into lady Blogalot.