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I’m scared of men because...



There are so many things to be scared of men for: the terrible acts of raping, murdering, and harassing that occur daily. But there’s one fear that even the so-called "good men" partake in, and yet they don’t know it is a betrayal.


There’s nothing more demonic than a man driven by a specific kind of passion—not the passion to actually want to be with you, but the passion of a one-time pleasure that drew their attention to you: the release of the whitish, milky stuff called semen.


Oh, they are players in that field, using a strategy of lies, engulfed with one desire: to ease the burden of the organ stuck between their legs. They can’t seem to pause and realize how much they are dealing with the reality set in front of them, which is the real human, who has her emotions locked in to his sweet, cunning words—the one she listens to for hours, and starts imagining her great life with him.


There are the women who said they are smart, and take advantage of that brutal passion that they noticed. They get him to spend and spend and spend; their vulnerability is the capture for success.


But that’s not the woman I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the genuine woman who loves like her world depends on it: the virgin woman, the naive girl.


He whispers words of beauty, admiration, and how much she fills his world, but the whole time, he just wants to fill the organ between his legs with victory.


He manages to convince her to come to the house, to see his world, to be with him. He whispers into her ears, "Oh, you’re safe." Is she really safe? Then he starts making moves, the strategy starts playing out. The game begins in his self-contained house that he had struggled to get. He keepspushing with kisses, romance, and pauses to ease her feelings and whisper those dangerous words again: "Hey, you’re safe. I won’t touch you."


He keeps stalling her, and proving that she is really safe. He may stop at that day, to continue the next time he meets her. It’s called marinating a target.


After she feels so comfortable with him and relaxed on his shoulder, the wolf in sheep's clothing keeps unmasking. Now she has blindly fallen for him; she has been hooked; her heart has been surrendered at his alter. Then he strikes again.


This time with full force, no ending, no gimmicks. He keeps relaxing her and assures her, "It doesn’t hurt. She will be fine."

"I am here, I won’t leave you," he says to her, while penetrating into her vagina, and breaking her cord. And finally, he releases.

His senses get restored, and he starts seeing her fresh, beautiful skin as old, dirt rags. The beauty he once called her turns to a monster outlook.


He becomes cold towards her. He starts avoiding her. He stops calling or picking up her calls. He stops caring. He stops talking. He becomes the worst ghost that has ever existed on planet earth, and eventually he starts feeling disgusted by everything about her.


And then his eyes catch another pretty woman, and the cycle continues...

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