Post: #1

In the NYT: http://nyti.ms/1GHt58t

All this agonizing over her own shabby actions, but yet no remorse for authoring the modern textbook for this kind of behavior? Cry me a river.

Quote:Confessions of a Seduction Addict

It started with a boy I met at summer camp and ended with the man for whom I left my first husband. In between, I careened from one intimate entanglement to the next — dozens of them — without so much as a day off between romances. You might have called me a serial monogamist, except that I was never exactly monogamous. Relationships overlapped, and those overlaps were always marked by exhausting theatricality: sobbing arguments, shaming confrontations, broken hearts. Still, I kept doing it. I couldn’t not do it.

I can’t say that I was always looking for a better man. I often traded good men for bad ones; character didn’t much matter to me. I wasn’t exactly seeking love, either, regardless of what I might have claimed. I can’t even say it was the sex. Sex was just the gateway drug for me, a portal to the much higher high I was really after, which was seduction.

Seduction is the art of coercing somebody to desire you, of orchestrating somebody else’s longings to suit your own hungry agenda. Seduction was never a casual sport for me; it was more like a heist, adrenalizing and urgent. I would plan the heist for months, scouting out the target, looking for unguarded entries. Then I would break into his deepest vault, steal all his emotional currency and spend it on myself.

If the man was already involved in a committed relationship, I knew that I didn’t need to be prettier or better than his existing girlfriend; I just needed to be different. (The novel doesn’t always win out over the familiar, mind you, but it often does.) The trick was to study the other woman and to become her opposite, thereby positioning myself to this man as a sparkling alternative to his regular life.

Soon enough, and sure enough, I might begin to see that man’s gaze toward me change from indifference, to friendship, to open desire. That’s what I was after: the telekinesis-like sensation of steadily dragging somebody’s fullest attention toward me and only me. My guilt about the other woman was no match for the intoxicating knowledge that — somewhere on the other side of town — somebody couldn’t sleep that night because he was thinking about me. If he needed to sneak out of his house after midnight in order to call, better still. That was power, but it was also affirmation. I was someone’s irresistible treasure. I loved that sensation, and I needed it, not sometimes, not even often, but always.

I might indeed win the man eventually. But over time (and it wouldn’t take long), his unquenchable infatuation for me would fade, as his attention returned to everyday matters. This always left me feeling abandoned and invisible; love that could be quenched was not nearly enough love for me. As soon as I could, then, I would start seducing somebody else, by turning myself into an entirely different woman, in order to attract an entirely different man. These episodes of shape-shifting cost me dearly. I would lose weight, sleep, dignity, clarity. As anyone who has ever watched a werewolf movie knows, transmutation is excruciating and terrifying, but once that process has been set into motion — once you have glimpsed that full moon — it cannot be reversed. I could endure these painful episodes only by assuring myself: ‘‘This is the last time. This guy is the one.’’

Back then, if you asked me what I was up to, I might have claimed that I was a helpless romantic — and how can you judge that? If really cornered, I might have argued that I was a revolutionary feminist, taking brazen agency over my own sexuality: I was Rodolphe Boulanger in these stories, and never pathetic little Emma Bovary.

In my mid-20s, I married, but not even matrimony slowed me down. Predictably, I grew restless and lonely. Soon enough I seduced someone new; the marriage collapsed. But it was worse than just that. Before my divorce agreement was even signed, I was already breaking up with the guy I had broken up my marriage for. You know you’ve got intimacy issues when, in the space of a few short months, you find yourself visiting two completely different couples’ counselors, with two completely different men on your arm, in order to talk about two completely different emotional firestorms. Trying to keep all my various story lines straight (Whom am I angry at, again? Who is angry at me now? Whose office is this?) made my hands shake and my mind splinter.

At our last counseling session, my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend and I argued bitterly, and we ran off in different directions. I came home in tears, only to find a string of distressing phone messages from my divorce lawyer: Nothing but ruin on that front too. Then I did an unusual thing. I did not grab the telephone and call yet another man. Instead, I asked myself, ‘‘What are you doing with your life?’’

For the first time, I forced myself to admit that I had a problem — indeed, that I was a problem. Tinkering with other people’s most vulnerable emotions didn’t make me a romantic; it just made me a swindler. Lying and cheating didn’t make me brazen; it just made me a needy coward. Stealing other women’s boyfriends didn’t make me a revolutionary feminist; it just made me a menace. I hated that it took me almost 20 years to realize this. There are 16-year-old kids who know better than to behave this way. It felt shameful. But once I got it, I really got it: There is no way to stop a destructive behavior, except to stop.

I spent the next six months celibate and serious, working with a good therapist, trying to learn if I even existed at all when I wasn’t blazing in the heat of somebody’s longing gaze. Then one afternoon I ran into a guy I liked. We went for a long walk in the park. Flirted. Laughed. It was sweet. Eventually he said, ‘‘Would you like to come back to my apartment with me?’’

Yes! My God, how I wanted to unwrap this man like a Christmas present!

But I also didn’t want to: I was only beginning to pull myself together, and I feared unraveling.

Uncertain, I tried something radically new. I said, ‘‘Do you mind if I take a moment to think about this?’’

‘‘Sure,’’ he said.

We sat down on a park bench, and I got very quiet, picturing all the imaginable outcomes of this decision. The man took a magazine from his backpack and started reading, just to pass the time. This helped, actually. It proved the absence of intoxicating desperation. This was not seduction; this was merely two sober adults, deciding whether they should get more involved with each other.

I said: ‘‘You know what, my friend? I don’t think I’m ready for this.’’

He said: ‘‘No problem. Let’s get Italian ices, instead.’’

We spent a few more pleasant hours together, then said our goodbyes. I walked away alone but calm. And that’s when I realized that the better part of my life had already begun.

Post: #2

(06-25-2015 12:49 PM)RockHard Wrote:  And that’s when I realized that the better part of my life had already begun.

Post: #3

Painful word salad.

I've met a few "Eat, Pray, Fuck" types in Southeast Asia. All of them were this damaged and delusional.

Post: #4

Question: is she really sorry and realizing that she has a problem, or is this her way of humble bragging? I suspect it's more of the second.

Post: #5

Was that an insta-date with a low SMV woman? Did that guy read BANG?

Post: #6

Post: #7

Sigh. It is too funny that almost not a single woman in the world understands herself. Especially when it's so easy. On the rare chance that a particularly thick skinned woman is on this site and reading this thread: Your "romantic" problems are really easy to diagnose. As a public service I'll concentrate them in a sentence or two:

Because of unchangeable biological reality any pre-menopausal woman (yes, this includes you if you have not gone through menopause) is able to sleep with a better, actually much better, man than the best man who would agree to marry her. While this may not seem like much of a statement at first glance it is so central to the way that women live their romantic lives (unconsciously) you could really say, and I do, that it amounts to 'The Female Condition."
{End of public service announcement}

If you are looking for self-awareness "Eat, pray loving" your way through many men will tell you almost nothing about yourself. Well, that's not actually completely true. You can take the average value of the men you slept with and the maybe halve it. This is your value.

Post: #8

For all of this we have to realize that the woman was well past the wall when this glorious "realization" struck. It is like a lottery winner who has already blown through his entire 10 million $ claiming that he has learned his lesson and could do it better now.

Her husband just made the grave error of marrying a carousel riding slut.

Now she outs herself publicly for having been a compulsive cheater and non-stop on the lookout for the next best male deal. In the end she began to settle and writes divorce porn, so that other women can blow up their marriages and have also a great man in his 60s:



What she missed to tell the women in the movie is that the guy a woman has to settle with is someone who is 20 years older and is even further down in his SMV than her husband was. We could have told her that ourselves - if you want a more Alpha satisfying man (unclear whether that is the case with her new husband), then you have to go much higher in age range and lower in looks and status.

Post: #9

(06-25-2015 01:28 PM)Kingsley Davis Wrote:  

Quoting her word for word from the vid: "Women are very hard on themselves..."



On what planet are they "hard on themselves"? Not this one, and not for the past 20 years in any event.

Post: #10

I spy a wall. So funny, I just read the title, and without the ignorance of the blue pill, it's such a simple equation. She's either hit it or knows she's about to.

   

Interesting, that movie came out just as my wife and I were headed for divorce. If there were one external social force applied to the breakdown of our marriage, that movie would have been it. She loved it. She wanted it. She wanted to date. She regretted not having dated. The movie was her plan.

I could see how stupid the movie was at the time, but not how damaging that type of lifestyle is for a woman.

So I can personally say, Congratulations Bitch, I hope for the worst for you.

(tho I thought the movie was well-done and Julia Roberts was great in it)

Post: #11

(06-25-2015 01:19 PM)Soma Wrote:  Painful word salad.

Basically, all she had to say was "I did it for the lulz."

She is an attention whore. An attention crack-whore of the 5th degree, but still just an attention whore.

The average attention whore puts a pic of herself in a tight, low cut shirt on her FB and waits for the compliments to roll in. This freak went out and hunted down her ego-crack like the shark in Jaws, destroying everything in her path to get it.

Post: #12

(06-25-2015 01:36 PM)Zelcorpion Wrote:  For all of this we have to realize that the woman was well past the wall when this glorious "realization" struck. It is like a lottery winner who has already blown through his entire 10 million $ claiming that he has learned his lesson and could do it better now.

Such a good analogy.

Post: #13

I'm conflicted on commenting on the article, specifically on the comment by "Ann". It's the casting pearls before swine thing.

The point is, this thing isn't a confession, it's ad copy for her next book, named right in the byline. Cynical manipulator to a fault.

Heavy, you're right. I had dozens of signs in my case, but EPL on her nightstand was surely one.

I like the Italian Ice guy at the end. Dude had game. "We sat down on a park bench, and I got very quiet, picturing all the imaginable outcomes of this decision. The man took a magazine from his backpack and started reading, just to pass the time. "

Lulz.

Post: #14

That was agonizing.

Post: #15

She spits so much game in this, I'm surprised it's not on the main board.

WIA

Post: #16

Quote:screed

...

(06-25-2015 02:52 PM)WestIndianArchie Wrote:  She spits so much game in this, I'm surprised it's not on the main board.

WIA

Heaps and heaps of game...man game. Girl game isn't even remotely similar to man game - girl game is almost like celebrity game (if attractive: show up, if not attractive: show up DTF). A girl using man game is like ...something...

Glance The Rules; would any man with a shred of self-respect and even a few options tolerate this?

Post: #17

(06-25-2015 01:49 PM)heavy Wrote:  I spy a wall. So funny, I just read the title, and without the ignorance of the blue pill, it's such a simple equation. She's either hit it or knows she's about to.



Interesting, that movie came out just as my wife and I were headed for divorce. If there were one external social force applied to the breakdown of our marriage, that movie would have been it. She loved it. She wanted it. She wanted to date. She regretted not having dated. The movie was her plan.

I could see how stupid the movie was at the time, but not how damaging that type of lifestyle is for a woman.

So I can personally say, Congratulations Bitch, I hope for the worst for you.

(tho I thought the movie was well-done and Julia Roberts was great in it)

My mom is another eat, pray, love victim and though she is gray haired and 60 something has put her stake in meeting yet another rich husband, despite making poverty line income and having another eat pray love trainwreck as a roomate so she can cover the bills.

The coming...grey tide? of 'strong independent women' that hit zero SMV, zero earning potential and zero endearing personality is troubling to me as even back in my great grandfathers time, the ugly sister that they knew they could never marry off, lived at home with the parents until their death where she inherited the home in exchange for being their caregiver.

The realities of death and old age are ignored by people today that think they are going to be attractive and able bodied forever. Eat pray love, "independent women" and even some MGTOW types are symptoms of that.

Post: #18

^^Yes.

To some degree the 'grey tide' as you say has always been there to an extent, because of death.

The problem is when it's promoted by society and the media, even to the point of being what's the norm. I say the media specifically because many, perhaps most, of Americans don't buy it. Most are more down to earth than that, certainly pre-social media. Now this shit is seen as a healthy fun way of living the younger years, *especially* for chics. That's the problem.

This is simply more anecdotal evidence of the downfall of society.

Just remember this story when you read one about a chic getting pregnant at 19 by her alpha boyfriend. Gotta remember, society sucks right now for chics genuinely wanting to be the perfect little mom.

Let's not equally bash both Ms EPL Slut (sex for fun) AND Ms Pregnant Teen Whore (sex for $$)

Post: #19

I'm curious if the real story towards the end was that the last man was just not THAT into her.

She might have been spinning it into her favor to make herself look good. Remember, she's aging and has teenage offspring. Her SMV has peaked decades ago, and is a fraction of what it used to be.

Instead of telling the real truth, she could be passing it off as how she became a better person with more self control.

As I read her story, all I could see in this woman is a HUGE void the size of a supermassive black hole... no matter how much she tries to fill that void with men, cocks, or money from her books and movies... she will never feel fulfilled with herself and with her life.

Never.

Post: #20

When I read about obscenely stupid women like this.

I go back to this movie scene. Although the actress in this scene is a ... meh probably would WB. None of these E,P,L types ever are.

So here's to you E,P,L bitch.

Post: #21

She have another book coming out? For all the pathetic harpies who bought her last book?

Post: #22

Hemming and hawing. When she speaks it's a breezy nothing. Pathetic. For all the self-absorption, self-indulgence, and years spent "finding herself" she has gained no insight and no knowledge.

She is the empty personal brand whose loose spigot and undeserved media pulpit that has begotten legions of other empty personal brands.

(06-25-2015 01:28 PM)Kingsley Davis Wrote:  

Post: #23

Histrionic.

Educate yourself on the warning signs.

They'll cheat on you with the bellhop on your wedding day and blame you.

Post: #24

What a delusional time-suck she is:

"For the first time, I forced myself to admit that I had a problem"

"had" a problem? I guess it's all better and solved, no more problem now that she's writing about it and all. Yep, she's all better now.

Post: #25

Hmm. A woman admits she's a slut and I'm supposed to do what, exactly?