Myth of Big-dick Energy and Little-dick Energy vs Truth of Lazy-pussy Energy

In a never-ending social-maze of self-deception, many weak and worthless women, drunken on self-hate and penis-envy, have convinced themselves of yet another silly, womansplained, man-mangling cultural myth: “little-dick energy vs big-dick energy,” i.e. the idea that you can determine a guy’s size by the way he behaves in places where nudity is a serious crime.

As a forty-year-old writing this, I can recall how, even in my teens, there were a great many spiritually weak, socially strong, physically attractive, mentally ugly women — losers — who played along with the idea that they could intuit a man’s general cock-size by whether he obeys the weak whims of masochistically bitchy women, and the arbitrary rules of other men — rules meant primarily to prevent fertile women from fucking too much.

The myth that such shes believed was that if the man obeyed those rules, then he has a big dick; and if he disobeyed the rules — then he was “compensating” for his small dick.

The simplest example of this was the taboo against a man talking positively about the size of his dick: “If you gotta brag about it, then it’s probably small!,” stupided many small-minded, socially docile women — each addicted to the social petting she received by other liars and losers when pretending that she knew more than nothing about the difference between the behavior of a man with a small dick versus the behavior of a man with a big dick.

Slut Swap

Once upon a time, a friend and his future-ex-girlfriend came to visit me and my future-ex-girlfriend. My woman was looking good, and his was too. At some point in the evening, I felt like fucking. The women were in the bedroom, and my friend and I were in the living room. In mid-conversation, I interrupted my friend to suggest that we go fuck our women.

He was not in the mood — at all: “She’s annoying me right now. I don’t feel like it,” he complained with an exhale. Immediately, I replied, “Ok, then I’ll fuck her, and you fuck my girlfriend.” My friend was too ecstatic to say or do anything but readily agree. His woman was about six feet tall, more than a little over-bearing, and fairly high-maintenance. My woman was about five feet tall, knew her place as a woman, and was always charming and nice to my friend.

When my friend and I stepped inside the bedroom, the tall blonde briefly tried to leverage, over the new situation, the same bitchy leadership she had been exerting over the small blonde when it was just the two of them. But I’m me.

At first, my friend and I each silently stepped towards our own woman, but then, following my lead, my friend casually moved in on my woman as I moved in on his. Each woman was visibly surprised — and excited: “turned on” is the phrase. The rest is history — a history where each woman, sweating and panting and groaning joyfully, had begged “fuck me!” to someone whom she, to say the least, was not expecting to beg that night for a nicely vigorous pussy-pounding. Nevertheless, both studs and both sluts had a great time — because the studs had been in charge, and the sluts followed the lead.

Now, looking back at the situation more than a decade later, I realize that a “good” (docile) citizen — male or female — of USA’s modern era will never have such a great experience as me, my friend, and our women chose to have that night — because many modern men are too docile: too busy murdering the moment with sterile, boring obedience to patriarchy’s feminist doctrine of “affirmative consent,” where losers and liars in government have frightened the weakest of men and women into playing along with the laughable myth that a woman with a wet pussy appreciates when a man asks her a checklist of questions about what he’s allowed to do with her sexually.

Loud, Lying Bitch at PB Bar & Grill vs Reality

Once upon a time, after me and my friend swapped sluts, we were in the degenerate hell-hole Pacific Beach, California, at the PB Bar & Grill. With us was my friend’s slut (the one whose pussy had fallen in love with my dick a few weeks prior) as well as another of my friends who was well-acquainted with my first friend but did not know the slut.

After a few beers, sluts such as the one with us tend to become quite retarded; so the slut drunkenly began doing that dysfunctional girl thing of trying to get social energy by standing up to me about one topic or another. But I’m me.

At some point, I decided to end the argument that I was winning on the merits, by jokingly (yet factually) saying something to the effect of, “well, in any case, I have a big dick — so I win.” Plenty choices would have let her bow out gracefully. She chose none of them. Instead, she said, “[Friend’s name] has a bigger dick than you!” Of course that (like so much else dumb bitches say in public to get attention or “win” arguments) was entirely irrelevant. Yet the strategy there is the age-old bitch tactic: divide and conquer. But I’m me.

Later, laughing about the event, my friend conceded sheepishly “but that wasn’t true at all.” No, it was not at all true that he had a bigger dick than me. So I was supposed to shit all over him factually at PB Bar & Grill, to win an argument with some loud, lying bitch whom I had already fucked half to death. But I’m me.

My two friends and I were later laughing about the event, because of how we agreed to handle the loud, lying bitch who had tried to divide and conquer the three of us when she wanted to masturbate with social attention by suggesting that my friend and I were in competition over dick-size.

Manly Pivot

Instead, it went like this:

(1) Russ argues with dumb bitch;

(2) Russ wins argument;

(3) Dumb bitch persists;

(4) Russ says, “Regardless, I have a big dick. The end.”

(5) Dumb bitch stupids, “[His] dick is bigger than yours!”

(6) Russ graciously changes the topic — to “three big dicks.”

Three big dicks

How did I graciously change the topic? Simple: by putting the loud, lying bitch in her place — especially by not letting her win against anyone. As soon as the loud, lying bitch countered my statement about my big dick with a lie comparing me to my friend — “Ok,” I said.

Then I began shouting: “Three big dicks! Three big dicks! Three big dicks!” My two friends soon joined in, and when they did, I began banging my beer bottle onto the table to the rhythm of “Three big dicks!” — so they did too.

“Three big dicks! Three big dicks! Three big dicks!” shouted the three guys at PB Bar & Grill that night, in manly solidarity. Real men and real women looked on with laughs and cheers; a handful of losers — the loud, lying bitch included — did not participate in the laughing and cheering. But that’s one of the many nice things about being a handsome, charismatic, kind, reasonable guy with a big dick who can fight: you don’t have to care what losers think.

Side Note About Erectile Dysfunction

Age does not necessarily confer wisdom, but when a man does gain the right wisdom, he is in no way motivated to waste an erection on a weird, weak, worthless woman. In my life, a handful of women, each by her attitude, have disappointed me sexually to the point that I chose either not to have an erection for her, else not to maintain it for her.

Anyone who tells you this is impossible — i.e. that erections, for better or worse, are a mindless process over which no man ever has control — is a liar and a loser on some very fundamental levels of humanity — especially if its a woman trying to tell you the nature of erections.

Moreover, if any self-deceiving beta-male bitch ever saw the caliber of some of the women for whom I refused to provide an erection — or otherwise rejected sexually — especially as compared to some of the women for whom I chose to provide an erection: the mind of the self-deceiving beta-male bitch would require them to rethink everything they pretend to know about how “women rule” and have guys “wrapped around their finger.” No: only losers. Real men lead. Real women follow real men.

Gross, Boring Women with Lazy-pussy Energy

“Little-dick energy” is not a thing. Nor is “big-dick energy.” Anyone who tells you otherwise is a loser, or a liar — or both. Meanwhile, “lazy-pussy energy” is very real. For example: if some cynical loser lady likes droning on about how a guy has to climb into her pussy and do jumping-jacks to satisfy her — because a man with an average penis is nothing to her: for one thing , she is quite possibly bluffing, in order to masturbate with social attention (e.g. fading song-slut Ariana Grande); but if she is speaking the truth — then she is just a gross, boring loser with a lazy pussy. Obviously.

Humility Makes Strength, and Practice Makes Permanent

In the end, a woman worth fucking knows her own body, or else earnestly seeks to know it. I have been with several virgins who had a lazy pussy — who had accepted the myriad social myths about how it is a man’s job to overwhelm her, and that her only role is to be passively overwhelmed. Conversely, I have been with several women who had birthed multiple children — yet still felt amazing between her legs: each mother had made it a point to maintain her sexuality, because she knew that part of the purpose of her vagina is to please her man.

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