Nightclubs poison women

They are traditionally used as a means of socialising and meeting people of the opposite sex in search of a one-night stand or, for some, a potential partner.

In an environment where your choice in shoes can see you denied entry, the average cake-faced girl’s ego is at an all time high and drink prices are 200% higher to that of a bottle shop, it’s a wonder they continue to be so popular.

The average girl will be approached 5 to 10 times a night by horny drunken men, so as a result it’s only natural for them to develop a bitch shield in attempt to effectively and efficiently screen out men that don’t tick all the boxes on their ‘perfect man’ checklist.

Before the invention of nightclubs a pretty girl may have been approached fifteen times in her entire life resulting in an ego being equal to that of which she deserved. In contrast, a pretty, modern day ‘club girl’ would be approached fifteen times a night resulting in undeserved arrogance and an unhealthy feeling of self-worth and validation.

  

This essentially means that even the most mediocre women will have an ego that would rival Victoria’s Secret model’s when interacting with men, and the beautiful women almost ruling out male interaction altogether.

It was during my time working in a call centre in Melbourne, Australia in 2011/2012 that I came across a perfect example of why a ‘club avoiding girl’ would be my first preference if I ever decided to get a girlfriend.

Natalia was a tall, curvy, Serbian goddess with a flat stomach and a pair of perfectly shaped child baring hips. Her kind smile and deep brown eyes were enough to make a grown man weep, but there was something different about this girl, something that didn’t quite seem right; She had no ego. How could this be? How could a woman of such beauty be so genuinely nice? After asking myself these questions I decided that I needed to find out and it didn’t take me long to come to a conclusion.

Me: “So what clubs do you usually go to when you party?”

Natalia: “Oh, I don’t go to clubs.”

…and there it was, the one thing that sounded a little off. Natalia hadn’t developed a bitch shield. She hadn’t endured hundreds of drunken approaches by men who wouldn’t have the balls to do it during the day whilst being completely sober. She had less arrogance than an ugly clubbing girl, yet a few years of being hammered with the constant validation that a clubbing environment brings would be enough to ruin her until she was a single woman in her mid thirties.

I’m not about to sit here and say that 100% of the reason Natalia was egoless was because she never went clubbing. I’m also not prepared to say that all girls that go clubbing are affected by the constant validation they receive or that you can’t find genuinely nice girls inside the world’s most superficial clubs, but I am confident in saying that nightclubs poison women.

- Gavin Madden

“You should fuck my sister.”

They are cock-blockers, understandably protective and most of the time a lot bigger than me. Their worst nightmare is that one of their close friends enjoys the warmth of his sister’s vagina even if it means he has to escort her all the way back home. They know all too well what is going through a male’s mind and will do anything in their power to make sure anyone perceived as ‘bad news’ best try to find a different girl to fuck. It is on very rare occasions that you will find a brother going out of his way to make sure his sister gets laid. It was mid-way through the summer of 2010 that I met Matthew, a young boy that changed my view of the dynamics of a healthy brother/sister relationship.

I, like many men have a female sibling and would rather fist myself than to get involved in her sex life. On many occasions I have given my sister advice on how to avoid ‘players’, but try to keep my nose out of her relationship problems unless it’s an emergency. So where would you find a boy that openly discusses his sister’s sex life (or lack thereof)? No other place but Sweden.

Matthew was a 16-year-old stereotypical Swedish boy. He was tall and skinny with blonde hair. His Americanised accent was the result of watching too much western television in order to perfect his English. He was on holiday with his two sisters in Lagos, Portugal, which is possibly the worst place in the world to take your sisters if you aren’t overly happy with the idea of them being sexually harassed by people like me.

His sister’s were 18 and 17 respectively. Elin, the oldest of the two, had very long straight brown hair with a pale complexion and a thin build. Emily had a gymnast physique, tanned skin, wavy blonde hair and was slightly more attractive than Elin.

They would visit the bar I worked at a few days consecutively before I had a chance to have a few drinks with them after work one night. The bar I worked at was small and thin, but had just enough space for a reasonable amount of people to be on the dance-floor at any given time. It was whilst Elin and Emily were on that very dance-floor that Matthew approached me at the bar.

“Hey, you should fuck my sister.”

“What?” I said thinking I had misheard him over the thumping electronic music.

He leaned in closer, cupped his hands and repeated…

“You should fuck my sister.”

I didn’t know how to react. Was this a joke or was he being genuine?

“What? Why? Which one? I mean, why do you want me to fuck her?" I said still trying to figure out his motives.

“Elin. She’s a virgin and she says she wants you to be her first.” He replied.

“Oh.” Was all I could say; for once in my life I was lost for words. “Is he seriously cock-hunting for his own sister?” I remember thinking to myself as I took another sip of my vodka Red bull.

It was as if the pussy god had chosen to possess Matthew for this moment in time and given me permission to violate an innocent boy's sister for no other reason but for the pleasure of making my penis happy.

I wasn’t prepared to question him any further so I gave Matthew a nod and quickly turned to face his sister who was still dancing with Emily on the dance-floor. Within a few seconds I found myself face to face with Elin. There was no need for small talk, as it seemed Matthew had done all the talking that was required. Although he wasn’t in any way intimidating, I wasn’t overly keen on her brother watching me mash faces with her so I decided it would be best to get her back to my room as soon as possible.

She showed little resistance as I lead her up the stairs. Not unlike previous nights my room was occupied by another couple so I decided the roof top terrace would be a suitable Plan B. With the sounds of partygoers in the bars below we were quick to turn a few beanbags into a makeshift bed. Our clothes were off before I even started devising a plan on how to get her naked. In the streetlight it was easy to see that her vagina was that of a virgin. It was ‘the perfect slit’ every man hopes for when removing the panties of a girl he’s about to ravage.

“Wait…I’m a virgin.” She whispered

“I know. Your brother told me” I replied.

“Be gentle.”

The sex was understandably average and with the sounds of immense pain it was incredibly hard to keep an erection. She started crying afterwards which she would describe as "pain AND happiness tears". I have since made a pact with myself to avoid virgins at all costs even if it means sacrificing a notch. I simply know I wouldn't find it enjoyable.

I met with Matthew the following day…

“Hey, I heard you fucked my sister on your rooftop. Good job.”

- Gavin Madden

The Canadians With Game.

“What are we doing today?” I said to Jack as I sat up in my bed. It was 11am sometime during the week in June 2009 and Jack and I were in Berlin. We had arrived to an empty hostel dorm room at 1am after a lengthy train ride from Munich.

“Food” he replied half yawning whilst struggling to open his eyes.

My relationship with my long time girlfriend had recently ended and I was enjoying my first taste of freedom. The past 3 years of treating girls as if they didn’t have vaginas had taken its toll on my game. I had ‘friend zoned’ any girl I had come in contact with during my relationship so turning any interaction sexual was something I would have to start doing immediately. New vagina was the antidote needed for the ‘years of seeing only one vagina virus’ I contracted during my early 20’s so I was hoping Berlin would rid of me of the seemingly incurable.

After showering (separately) we made our way downstairs to have a cigarette. The hostel was by far the biggest I’d ever visited and with nearly 900 beds it wasn’t going to be hard to find a suitable girl to lure back to my dorm room.

As we chatted and practiced blowing smoke-rings I noticed two girls standing 20 metres away staring at us. It was hard to make out their level of attractiveness from a distance, but it was obvious they were talking about us. Before I had the chance to say anything to Jack, the shorter girl began to walk in our direction.

“Hey guys, what you up to?” She said in what sounded like an American accent.

“Not a whole lot. We just woke up so we’re trying to figure out what we want to do today.” I replied

“Okay, well want to come to lunch with us?”

“Okay.” I said as the taller blonde made her way closer.

I was impressed by their confidence. They had seen an opportunity and taken it. 

These girls had game.

Katie was tall and blonde with fair skin and seemed to wear no make-up other than a whole heap of mascara. She wore cut off jeans, a loosely fit singlet and black Dr. Martin boots; a 7 overall.

Eve had long brown hair down to the mid section of her back. She wore a white flower behind her ear and was as tanned as any white person could possibly be. I’m a big fan of a girl with a tan so I gave her a solid 7.5.

Over lunch we had discovered they were both from Toronto in Canada and extremely talkative. Eve was like a kid with ADHD who had gone without medication for years, whilst Katie, although softly spoken, seemed to like being in control of the conversation.

“So what do you guys think about drugs?” Eve said quickly changing the subject from a ‘get to know you session’ to something slightly more interesting.

I glanced over to Jack who was displaying a cheeky smirk on his face.

“Ummm what kind of drugs are you talking about?” I replied.

“We have some mushrooms, but we have too much. Do you guys want to do some?”

“When?” Jacks said almost before Eve could finish her sentence.

“Right now?”

They're cute. They approach us. We hang out. They offer us free drugs.

Could these of been the most perfect girls to have ever set foot on this planet?

All that was left was the sex, but that was going to prove difficult whilst trippin’ balls.

Katie split the dried mushrooms into four piles as Jack, Eve and I kept a look out for anyone that could potentially arrest us. Although mushrooms aren’t exactly a hardcore drug, we were in a foreign country and looking up the local punishment for possession of mushrooms wasn’t something we cared to do.

We decided that a rooftop garden would provide us with the ideal environment to fully enjoy the experience. We spent the next 5 hours fascinated by simple things like clouds, leaves, fingers and feet. For anyone who has had the pleasure of a mushroom trip you would agree that kissing girls isn’t exactly something that is overly important when you’re surrounded by more important things like trees.

It was when the mushrooms began to wear off that the ‘game’ portion of my brain began to take control once again. We were on our way home and I had decided to slow my walking down as I talked to Katie in an attempt to separate our group into two. By the time we had made it back to the hostel Jay and Eve had gotten into the lift and were on their way back to the room…or so I thought.

Katie and I continue our meaningless conversation as we caught the lift up to my empty dorm room; Jay and Eve had disappeared. Although the peak was long gone, the mushrooms were still providing me with visual hallucinations and a slightly altered state of mind.

“Oh they must have gone to our room.” Remarked Katie as she slowly laid back onto my bed.

“I suppose so” I replied as I made my way over to my bed and laid close enough for her to know I wasn’t going to be ‘friend zoned’.

As I looked up at wooden supports on the bottom of the top bunk I became distracted by the grain in the wood continually growing and retracting; I was still high.

I decided, high or not, I was going to try for sex with Katie so I rolled over and kissed her. It was on.

She was quick to grab a fistful of my hair and grind her groin against my leg , it wasn’t long before we were completely naked. Looking down at my morphed penis entering a swirling vagina hole was one of the weirdest sexual experiences of my life.

I woke up in the morning to an empty bed. She had gone.

Within five minutes of waking up Jay excitedly entered the dorm room.

“Duuuuuuude, I fucked her on the bathroom floor. My dick looked so weird!”

- Gavin Madden

“What we most fear is usually what we most need to do.”

It’s fear of unknown that prevents us from doing what we need to do in order to make things happen. Define the fear and envision the worst-case scenario in your mind. The next step is to accept this minuet possibility and then do it anyway. How many times have you thought about things that could go wrong and how many of those things have actually happened? I am confident in saying that a very small percentage of the outcomes we fear ever do become a reality.

Whether it be approaching a group of attractive women or quitting your job and buying a one-way ticket to Europe, if we don’t fear it, it’s probably not worth doing.

I find that most people I know aren’t entirely happy with their career path, but fear taking a new direction because they’re happy with their 40,000-$50,000 per year. They sacrifice at least one third of their lives doing something they dislike in order to pay for material things they don’t necessarily need.

The following is an excerpt from Timothy Ferriss’ – 4-Hour work week:

“Being financial rich and having the ability to live like a millionaire are fundamentally are two very different things. Money is multiplied in practical value depending on the number of ‘W’s you control in your life.

* What you do

* When you do it

* Where you do it

* With whom you do it

Using this as our criterion, the 80 hour per week $500,000 per year investment banker is less powerful than a man who works half of the hours for $40,000, but has complete freedom of when, where and how to live. The formers $500,000 maybe worth less than $40,000 and the latters $40,000 worth more than $500,000 when we run the numbers and look at the lifestyle output of their money.

Options and the ability to choose is real power.”

I refuse to agree with people that say “Well that’s life”.

I refuse to accept that doing something I dislike to make somebody else richer in exchange for things I don’t need and a ‘live for the weekend’ mindset is “just life”.

Turning your passion into something you can make money out of should be your goal.

- Gavin Madden

“You’re an asshole!”

The sun had set and another night in Lagos had begun. I had almost out stayed my welcome in the small surf town on the south coast of Portugal, but I was keen to soldier on until the very end of the summer. The amount of alcohol I had consumed in this town would most likely be more than most people drink in their entire lives and although I had money to buy food, my body simply rejected anything more than one meal per day. I was an absolute train wreck.

During the summer of 2010 and I had been living with up to twenty people at once so anything/anyone that was done in the house was never kept a secret. My friend Dean was the local cocaine dealer in Lagos and he happened to sleep on a bunk bed in my room, which sounds great on paper, but it ultimately led me to a minor cocaine addiction. One night Dean convinced me that snorting a line off of the house’s communal guitar would cure my food poisoning. Lesson learned.

During this particular night I had been kissing a young English girl. She was a short brunette with an attitude problem. She was cute, but I could only put up with her shit for a certain amount of time before her attitude got in the way of her perfectly formed body. Having to hear her bitch about how “slutty the girls are in Lagos” and how she “didn’t need to get drunk to have fun” made me want to vomit on my cock and slap her in the face with it.

I had met her in the bar I worked at whilst standing out the front. An hour before I finished I asked her to meet me at a bar called in ‘Inside Out’ just a few minutes walk away, but at this point I had no clue how utterly irritating this women was.

It was 2.30am and I had only been at Inside Out for half an hour. “Should I just take her home and fuck her? I wonder if she would irritate me even while I’m fucking her.” I remember thinking to myself. The club was known for reaching temperatures of what seemed like 50 degrees Celsius so I decided to go outside to get some fresh air and think about what my next move would be.

The pros would be that I could fuck her. She was young and hot and would most likely ride my cock like a seasoned pro, but the very thought of having to spend another second listening to her made my cock as soft as warm butter. I sat outside on the footpath for almost 10 minutes before my train of thought was interrupted…

“You’re an asshole!”

I quickly looked up to see a girl standing over me with a look of disgust on her face.

“What?” I replied completely confused.

“You’re such a fucking asshole. I can’t believe you!” She screamed in an English accent.

“Who are you and what have I done?”

Had I been so drunk and high over the past few nights that I had trouble remembering being such an asshole to a pretty blonde girl?

“You and I kissed on the chair inside this bar earlier tonight.” she said whilst taking a seat next to me. I could hear in her voice that she had begun to settle down.

“No we didn’t” I replied knowing that I had been at work the entire night in a completely different bar.

“See this is why you’re an asshole. We kissed for like an hour on the chairs inside and now your just blowing me off like it never happened.”

She was upset and very attractive. The girl I had been hooking up with all night was waiting for me inside so I did what any cum filled testicle owner would do.

“Oh, actually now I remember, I’m really sorry.” I said as I leant in to kiss her.

“Hey, girl!”

We stopped kissing and looked up to see three of her friends. She had apparently disappeared for an hour looking for a guy that, I would imagine, looked quite similar to me.

“You found him!” They squealed.

“Yeah, he tried to make it seem as though he didn’t remember me.”

“I’m just a little drunk. I remember now.” I said with a smile on my face. These girls were either off their faces, dumb as fuck or a combination of the two.

“I’ll make it up to you by letting you sleep in my bed tonight.” I whispered to her.

She flashed me a smile and squeezed my hand in appreciation.

It would seem as though my general aloofness and genuine confusion had made her pussy drip.

“I’m going to look after your friend tonight.” I announced to her friends.

“Treat her well though, okay?” warned her tallest friend as they walked off back in the sea of drunken partygoers. 

We were in my house no more than 15 minutes later. We tore each other clothes off and I ravaged her like a drunken prehistoric caveman.

With my sheets caked in squirt juice she left the house and made her way home. On her way out I had invited Dean to have a look at the puddle she had kindly left on my bed.

“Nice squirt puddle!” He screamed out the window as she walked out the front door.

- Gavin Madden