Many articles have been written on why American women suck.
I don’t agree with any of them. American Women are exotic to me, a “cut above”.
Not so many articles have been written on why Western European beutches suck.
I won’t write such an article either, even though I agree wholeheartedly.
Every man who travels abroad doesn’t like the women in his own country
I have met many men who went overseas in search for greener pastures. Many of them were willing to admit it had something to do with the women they could and couldn’t date in their home country. Almost all of them complained at some point about how boring, ugly or ill-behaved the women in their own country were.
Spanish men were disgusted by the disrespectful Spanish girls. Eastern European men didn’t appreciate the apparent coldness of their women.
American men wrote whole books about how political movements changed the American women on their continent into a selfish, loveless cunt who solely existed to extract wealth and semen (in that order) from men. After which they would promptly divorce them, take their kids and take the moral high ground.
On the other hand, I used to make fun of the women in my mother country. I used to say they kinda look like dinosaurs, with their tallness, wide frames and low voices. I used to critique their style of dress, which is similar to the wardrobe of the homeless in New York City.
I would say it in a funny way, as to lightheartedly make fun of the women back home.
But not really.
In reality, I have been unfulfilled by the women in my life when I still lived in my mother country. I had to watch many of my friends get the attention I craved. They married and settled down, while I had to get by with the occasional one night stand with women who just wanted asdfk’s big dick and not to be bothered in the morning.
Yet that’s not what I say when someone asks. I give my high and mighty narrative about how women from my country are big-boned dinosaurs with a voice of a thousand cigarette packs and undistllled whiskey. Even though I feauqued quite a few of them, most of the time with great delight and enthusiasm.
Other men in my situation mostly didn’t care about the low social status that would severely limit their life prospects. They accepted what was thrown at them, and didn’t see it as a big deal.
Here’s a lesson in Western European culture for you.
There’s this strong narrative, in my native country’s culture. A man who doesn’t get female attention, is a loser. He will never contribute anything meaningful to society.
When both men and women see how a woman disrespects you, they assume you have never done anything meaningful in your life, and never will. The idea is that women are a judge of character, and can tell early on if a man is going somewhere.
I always questioned this narrative. Not so long ago, I discovered a pattern that proves it’s outright wrong.
Many rich, strong and powerful men in my country are known to be virgins, celibate or married to unfeaqable monsters. The more successful they are, the more likely they are to have a shitty sex life.
Statistically speaking, in Western Europe you are better off being very mediocre in every single way then a man who has or chases wealth, power or genius. Mister Mediocre gets better beutches.
I wanted to date hot girls, but I didn’t want to avoid developing my potential just so I would fit to a standard that is halting human progress.
If even the most powerful politicians in my country are accused of being gay simply because they are never seen with a woman, I think it’s time for a change.
A change involving American women, who are after men with status.
American women like men who make something of themselves, and don’t make excuses for it.
They want a man with cash in his wallet. That he earned by doing something that he thinks is worthwhile. Wether it is because he wants to serve the world, or just serve himself.
They want a man who is unapologetic about his ambitions. Someone who earned the independence to pursue those ambitions, and can afford to please himself. Not some wimp who walks in line with the corporate world or the nanny state, but who’s qualities get rewarded with freedom, respect and cashflow.
American women are in that regard the opposite from Western European women, who see male ambition as the root of all evil. My culture hammers this into your head from the moment you are born, especially through the educational system. Male ambition is being blamed for every war, economic crisis and even some natural disasters.
For a long time, my ambition was all I had. Therefore, the American values are more consistent with my own then the values of the country I was born in.
Many foreigners love the women in my home country.
When I tell American expats I like their women, they scoff. Like I would when someone compliments women from Western Europe. I don’t want to accept some men might like the Western European womans preference for mediocre, supplicating men over the men who lead and feed them.
Like those American expats are not comfortable with me liking the directness, hyperactive sexuality and barely concealed hunger for status that American girls seem to have.
I’ve come to see those moments as a sign that tastes are shaped by adverse experiences, rather then by positive experiences. If someone (including me) tells you why he doesn’t like something, a valid question would be: “What happened to you that you don’t like it anymore?”
In my case: I was born in a country where women select men not on the positive effects they can have on society as a whole, but rather for their conformity to said society.
Change is bad, pleasing the nanny state is good.
Power is seen as evil, dependence seen as goodness.
I’d rather facefeauque myself with a bazooka then adopt those values.
Feaque the women you find exotic, despite what others might say.
If you are American and want to stick your dique in the broad-shouldered, organic eating Big Birds that are Western European women: go ahead. But don’t expect to change the world anytime soon, or do anything worthwhile in general.
They won’t allow you.
In the meantime, Imma plow my way through an army of old-fashioned, scantily clad American sloots.