Over the past year or so I’ve honestly gotten really lazy about paywall cultivation.
So much so that at this rate it’ll likely take years for me to earn that solid Hananian orange check, which in all honesty is a little embarrassing given how expeditiously I nabbed its transparent cousin last year.
To restore my honor as a grifter I’ll need to go back to my roots and start churning out loads of irresistible paid content, which as noted in my Substack monetization guide usually means either narrative cliffhangers, practical advice, or writing about pussy— all three of which will no doubt occupy a crucial place in my oeuvre going forward.
That said at least starting out it seems the easiest path by far will be the pussy route—if only because like half the shit I write these days is already just kind of erotica tbh
So back in March I penned a tract entitled Stop Being Mean to Rakish Men, which was mostly about my hot German bestie who killed herself in 2023, but also touched on my retrospectively sort of insane amphetamine abuse and sex addiction during that era:
I was regularly putting in 100+ hour weeks and propelling myself through the mire by taking Hitler levels of Adderall—my own prescription plus a few additional scripts delivered by Amanda and two other womyn I was fucking at the time because I really adored mixing instant and extended release to keep the cummies flowing all day.
It was far and away the most dissociated I’ve ever been.
And on some level it made me feel like a fucking god. I was a bit less fat then, so I had more energy and was even more of a cocky piece of shit—a trait frequently amplified by the fact that I’d more or less obliterated my own capacity for cognitive empathy because I was on so much meth at this point that I maintained basically zero access to my unconscious mind or right hemisphere cognition. In this era my anima wasn’t even locked in the attic so much as that Japanese girl in Hostel
…
From October 2022 through April 2023 (when one Zoomette I was genuinely quite compatible with became a somewhat serious gee eff) I was flying in new coeds from SeekingArrangement literally every single weekend. On one occasion I even had Girl A Ubering back for her return flight at the same time Girl B was Ubering from the airport to my condo. Oftentimes I’d be actively looking for the next girl while I already had one in front of me sitting around bored scrolling Tiktok wondering why I wasn’t taking her out or at the very least fucking her. That’s the sort of thing that screams indulgence has crossed the line into abject degeneracy.
During this epoch several of those girls were briefly my “girlfriend” until they very suddenly weren’t. Most of these stories are simply too embarrassing to go into here. Perhaps one day I’ll pimp a few of them out behind a paywall and endeavor to make them slightly less embarrassing by framing them as sage advice for younger men, but if I’m being entirely honest I don’t think even I could pull that off.
Long story short I most definitely cannot.
Which doesn’t mean they’re not worth telling, mind you—they’re just for sure not freefag appropriate given how insane / weird / sleazy I come off in some of them.
For the privilege of judging Cap’n Walt for his most infamous depredations you’ll therefore need to hand over at least five shekies—and ideally several hundred more when you inevitably forget to cancel your monthly autopay ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
We’ll begin with the aforementioned situations wherein a chickadee was on paper my gf or something close to that but the whole thing also lasted such an embarrassingly short amount of time that any other feller would just delete it from his resume.
Eliza
The latter half of 2019 was for the most part kind of just a shitty gay Incel Era for me, because after I torched things with Josephine to make yet another play for Nat (which of course ended in disaster) I fell into a pretty horrific depression I wouldn’t escape in earnest until the first months of 2020, when at long last I discovered Jordan Peterson.
Granted I did go on a handful of shitty Hinge dates during this period, but it had long been pretty obvious to me Nebraskan chicks weren’t my speed, and tbh I didn’t even want something serious with a Huskette at that point given I was mostly just waiting out the two year clock at my job in anticipation of amscraying back to Florida.
And so instead I got on SeekingArrangement—at first to procure ultra-specific nudie pics from rando coeds (one of whom ended up being Alyssa, funnily enough), and then later to preheat Florida puss for my triumphant return to the swamp.
Which is how I ended up meeting Eliza.
She was a week younger than me. INFJ; maybe 120 IQ. Bottle blonde that fooled me. Short; slim-thick; half Italian and I want to say Scottish? The other part wasn’t legible against that big and sexy dago beak, whereas her last name was like meme tier Italian and she was also from Joisey and that’s kind of how I saw her… especially given that at one point she told me her dad was in the mob and got killed when she was a toddler, which seems in retrospect like a fake and gay woman lie but you never know I guess.
Anyway she worked at Animal Kingdom.
Not as anything fun or glamorous, mind you—just some middle management event coordinator shit she was getting sort of bored of by then. I think she made like $48k though, which before Bidenflation honestly wasn’t terrible for a girljob.
Like me Eliza was new to Seeking—though her bestie and work subordinate was an experienced sugar baby, and actually the one who’d convinced her to join the site in the first place. Think her name was Catie or some shit... she was like 22 compared to our 25, and if I’m honest the bitch genuinely gave me the creeps because she had these scheming crazy molested Tiefling eyes and was deadass also an albino.
Now of course Eliza insisted Catie wasn't an albino and was just super pale blah blah blah but I surmise that this was kind of just a fake and gay denial situation on both their parts, because at one point Eliza said something about Catie's “sun sensitivity” and when I instantly launched into the albino thing babygirl burst out laughing.
Honestly I made her laugh more times than I can count in that first phone call… might have actually been the very first time I felt genuinely Chadlike with a girl.
With Josephine I could easily perform Chad—which don’t get me wrong it’s not as if I felt like some faggoty nebbish with her in everyday conversation—but I was for sure actively living up to that external cognitively conservative ideal of masculinity.
Whereas Eliza projected this overwhelming Prey Energy that made it not just easy to bully her or even fun really so much as genuinely irresistible. The bitch just yearned to get shredded on a deep and existential level, because to leverage the nomenclature of Trad is Femdom her sexuality ran almost entirely Yonic in register instead of Phallic… which ackshully makes a lot of sense given that Eliza was the first tried and true cognitively libtard lass I ever went for… had the tats (small ones tbf) and double digit body count and whole shebang, really—even a Master’s Degree in Women’s Studies.
Which at one point she unironically said made her “more educated” than me—needless to say I immediately burst out laughing.
For one thing because at this point I was a credentialed actuary (which is basically analogous to passing the Bar Exam and many times more impressive than a fucking Master’s degree in anything softer than Biology) but even moreso because babygirl’s epistemics were functionally speaking made of jello, such that even her understanding of e.g. the Is-Ought Distinction was sort of sub-Binky’s Facts and Opinions.
And please understand that even today I’m generally shit at that cringe Manosphere “amused mastery” thing... but when you’re debating an unreconstructed Judith Butler type it’s kind of just impossible to take literally anything she says seriously, and the upshot of that is amused mastery will sort of just become your basal affect with her.
Ninety minutes into the call Eliza straightforwardly asked me if I thought her entire education had been an enormous waste of time, and I straightforwardly told her yes.
Everything turned sexual on a dime.
An hour later Eliza was my girlfriend.
…whereas 72 hours after that the two of us were no longer on speaking terms.
And if you immediately guessed it was the Tiefling’s fault then pat yourself on the back, my man, because you’ve got some good fuckin instincts.
Basically the situation tossed me face-first and unprepared into the worst possible version of the cognitive libtard bih’s most pressing downside as gf—namely that babygirl is so insanely groomable that it’s not only you colonizing her ontology but also all of her gross tranny friends who have all the same demonstrably wrong ideas about the world as her but aren’t also eating your cum to make up for it.
Which in practice isn’t much of a problem so long as you’re dicking bae down on the reg and periodically auditing her devices / socials—in 2020 for instance my Rebecca’s soyboy roommate hated my fucking guts, and that shit didn’t impact me one iota. But if it’s anything long distance a cockblock saboteur will find it far easier to pull bae from your orbit, which is just a really colossal pain in the ass (as seen with Rebecca in 2024).
Long story short Catie tells Eliza I’m clearly a freak to ask her to be my girlfriend so soon and also that my politics mean I’m probs lowkey a serial killer or something and also that if I were Normal I wouldn’t be on Seeking in the first place blah blah blah.
So that night Eliza comes to me with her Concerns… which Wally B obviates in toto after like fifteen minutes of flirty banter, such that everything looks wholly hunky dory.
Until—you guessed it… the following night, when of course it’s just deja fucking vu.
And so the next day I resolve to be agentic instead of Einstein-crazy and approach Catie directly, presuming I guess that if Bloodraven simply hears from me in my own words how I’m not ackshually a bad person then maybe the problem will go away.
I find Silas on Seeking; send her a five paragraph essay penned in a decidedly polite and bloodless Asperger’s tone… in response to which the bitch apparently has a huge fucking panic attack and deletes her Seeking and proceeds to blow up Eliza’s phone.
The resulting fight poisons my frame. Eliza still wants to keep talking, but insists now that we slow things down and just act really fucking gay about everything.
I tell her to kick rocks.
Five months later I move to Orlando; call her up. She and Catie are No Longer Friends now it seems on account of a bunch of other dumb shit that has nothing to do with me.
Eliza’s also open to dating—which you’d think I would have jumped on, but instead when I ask if she’s seeing any other fellers babygirl says yes and that for some reason really hurts my feelings, impelling me to tersely end the call in a Ron DeSantis voice.
And tbh I genuinely can’t remember what my logic even was there, because that sort of response just seems completely and utterly foreign to me now… like mb at the time I felt it was undignified to pursue a bih if there are any other guys in the picture at all? idk I don’t think that was it, but at times when I read old texts I sent they’ll seem like a completely different person, so who knows? Probably it was just leftover trad priors.
Point is I hit Eliza up again maybe nine months after that—specifically because at this point I’ve somehow managed to shit the bed with both Natalie and Rebecca and am lowkey hugely paranoid about becoming an incel again.
Which in truth is kind of tarded cause at this point I’ve been on roids for months now with an anorexic gf helping me PSMF, and alloyed to my job and height and verbal IQ that’s easily enough to pork half the coeds on SA for a sixth the price of a comparable escort. It’s just I’ve been Rebeccamaxxing the past few months, which means I haven’t really internalized that fact, let alone noticed I’m kind of just objectively higher SMV than Eliza now—hence why instead of opting for candy corn puss on the open market my rebound strategy is ultimately to limerencemaxx with babygirl.
Only problem is Eliza already has a boyfriend—this Lockheed Martin dude who actually nvm she just broke up with him. At this point all our remaining issues kind of just seem unimportant and small to me—almost microscopic...
See, the thing I haven’t mentioned yet is that a few months back Eliza shared with me in confidence that recently she’d been diagnosed with genital herpes, which of course the neurotic little wop treats basically as an AIDS verdict; took her a solid month to get over that shit. But she did eventually, clearly—in large part thanks to her relationship with that pozzed-up war profiteer who helped her learn to carry it with confidence.
Thing is she doesn’t want to pass the bug to me now despite being wholly DTF, and clearly I myself don’t want to get it. So my line is the same as it was when she told me about it earlier—I’ll literally just fuck your feet who cares (btw fun fact scholars have observed that foot fetishism tends to skyrocket in prevalence during STD pandemics).
Eliza giggles. Says okieeeeeeee. And for the very first time I get to meet her in person.
Which in trvth feels kind of odd at first tbh. But then we start drinking and it’s chill, and I ofc get horny and unsheath Lil Bismarck and order the bitch to give me her feet.
She gets a little offended at that—sort of pouts, even. Lets me know against a side-eye scoff and sigh that ackshully, she’d prefer to make out first...
Which is when she leans in.
…at which point I apparently make a noise—a for the most part automatic / instinctive spergsound borne of a stark disgust response basically akin to the old school chuddish HIV paranoia they used to moralize against in Captain Planet episodes.
There’s a beat.
And then Eliza’s face turns to stone:
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
She gets up; tunes out my objections; storms out of my apartment. Never texts back.
That INFJ doorslam is real.
Karin
So it goes without saying the Eliza brouhaha kind of dashed my hopes for a properly winsome and cathartic rebound from Rebecca and Natalie.
Hell, if anything it sort of just amped up the pressure for one given I now had THREE chickadees to get over, cause make no mistake—I had very real feelings for Eliza.
That said you also shouldn’t feel especially bad for this version of Walt, as in general he was mostly an insufferable piece of shit.
Not in the sense of deliberately taking out longstanding incel rage on rando coeds who dindu nuffin, mind you—Rebecca cured me of that tendency. It’s more that for the better part of both 2021 and 2022 I often had a tendency to treat the fairer sex like emotional cumrags. That tendency had been entirely fine with Rebecca herself given that the best Jewesses are if anything emotional cock vacuums, but in retrospect it was probably rather fucked up to do that shit with lassies 6-7 years younger than me, who by all rights *I* should have been the one therapeutically guiding into adulthood.
It’s far less of a problem these days since girls born after 9/11 will pretty much never let you do the Jonah Hill thing in practice, but the elder half of Zoomettes are every bit as tender and cloyingly polite as Millennial gals even as it takes them far longer to mature, which in their youth left far too many of these vapey babies heartbreakingly exposed to solipsistic Jonahs. Certainly I’ll attest just looking at my own history that it’s pretty much always been girlypops born before 1995 and after 2001 who fucked me over, whereas I’m generally the one fucking over and exploiting Zillennial chicks.
Among the first of whom was Karin—a 24 year old vet tech I love bombed the absolute shit out of as a newly hunky if unusually oxytocin-sensitive 27 year old.
Like Eliza she was an INFJ, but her IQ was more in the 110-115 range, whereas her ancestry was almost entirely Angloid and German. In practice that made her seem a lot more normie-coded, and our conversational dynamic almost gave student-teacher.
That said our first night together was ostensibly just a hookup, and in fairness I was remarkably transparent with the lass about sorely needing a rebound after having gone through three separate breakups in less than a month—a tack with quite a lot more alpha than you’d think given simpiness is far less icky to the fairer sex so long as it’s overtly couched in semiotics of abundance. It’s not your faggot’s heart itself the world will loathe, understand, so much as your grumbling and empty belly; with a full belly you can be as gay as you want with chicks and it’ll usually just give Oberyn Martell.
Anywho point is that even to this day when you look at all the dames I ever managed to cajole into a spontaneous booty call (and this one really was spontaneous given that prior to hooking up we’d only spoken on the phone maybe ten or fifteen minutes) the incomparable Karin remains among the very classiest
Hell, if anything she was a bit too classy…
Because at this point I’d spent three months affixed to a Jewess easily in excess of the 95th percentile for girls both in masochism and more general sexual experimentality, which meant I was kinda just accustomed to trying out whatever tf I want whenever.
Whereas the handful of guys Karin had been with had mostly all just fucked her in the same two or three normalfag John Kasich positions she was also kind of expecting from me that evening as opposed to getting facefucked on the floor with her hands behind her back cuffed through the bedframe or learning what a buttplug feels like or having the entire thing recorded because if there’s no record of sex it didn’t happen.
But to her credit Karin had a real “anything once” mindset, and in practice let me fuck around with her almost as much as Rebecca had. She may have been normie overall, but at least early on in our lovemaking the gal was as intrigued by all the novelty as you’d expect from any INFJ… and got pretty fuckin turned on btw when I tied her to the headboard and did gross shit to her like licking her face or biting her toes hard.
But then during the actual sex part I said something mean to her as dirty talk and all of a sudden babygirl just breaks down crying, completely out of nowhere.
And I mean fucking bawling, guys—shit was bad. So naturally I immediately shit my pants and am like baby nooo what’s wrong and long story short seems her last boyfriend would verbally abuse her in a similar sort of way. So the two of us kind of commiserate about shitty exes for a few hours until we realize we have work in the morning and she sucks my cock and I make her cum with a vibrator and we try to sleep.
Only then whilst we’re cuddling bae suddenly starts acting really Baby for me, which in turn makes me feel kind of protective and possessive and oxytociny, and in light of my preexisting volatility all this compels me to just randomly blurt out to Karin that she oughtta just be my woman from now on.
In response to which she’s ofc like “but we barely know each other…” to which I naturally respond “well, we can get to know each other!” and then she giggles and says fine we can date exclusively for the time being and also call each other bf-gf in a way that’ll either fizzle out fast or grow into something a lot more meaningful over time.
Gotta love those Ni doms...
Anyway the next day at work it dawns on me that was sort of a retarded thing to do, but I also quite like the chick and enjoy that she keeps texting me, and in light of that suggest we have our first real date on New Year’s Eve the following night. She says yea.
Only come New Year’s Eve babygirl shows up a little different than before, cause now she’s amped and frisky… and insists I take her out to a fucking nightclub of all places.
Which tbh sounds completely fucking miserable to me, but I also don’t wanna come off super Boomer or anything and accordingly say yeah alright fine whatever but first let’s pregame a bit at an ackshual bar so we’re not just waiting twelve hours inside the club for the bartender to notice and serve us some shitty red bull vodka thing for teenagers.
Only once we’re maybe two drinks in bae decides she wants to be a girlboss; informs me that tonight we’re not having sex at all, in fact, because it turns out she wants to pump the brakes and “do it right from now on” if this is gonna be a real relationship.
So naturally at this point I’m kind of just tempted to say alright seeya but I’m also still feelin lonesome about those other chickies and actually do feel kind of pair bonded to Karin now, and so instead of chimping out I just sigh and say to her “look, this is kind of pointless since we already had sex which is what actually matters here and if my thing with Josie is any indication slowing things down arbitrarily will only make me resent you.”
She sighs back and says “okay but you also did p much everything to me the first time we fucked and I feel kind of weird about that number one and number two it doesn’t really feel like courtship anymore now without a progression and I don’t really want to date that way.”
Which tbf I actually understand and so I’m like “okay fine babe can I at least like fuck your feet tonight and then we’ll work back up to sex?” To which she rolls her eyes and smirks at me and is like “yeah I guess that makes sense.” And after that we start getting along really well and I’m like well shit am I just getting mature or something now? Maybe this chick’s the one, cause that actually felt really solid and based...
Only then we get to the club and entropy reemerges in the form of mine own autism—specifically that horrible itching sensation atop my scalp I experience whenever I’m assailed by sensory overload or some surfeit of normie-coded things.
The music is too loud; too bassy; too fucking black. Meanwhile the density’s basically Bangladesh with all these normies and subalterns touching me left and right like they used to in the McDonald’s PlayPlace; it occurs to me they should all be raped to death.
Karin wants me to dance with her to the nigger music, though I can scarcely make her out amidst the crowd. Then she gets up close; grinds on my leg which is kind of like why even do that if we’re not having sex? And does any of this shit feel like courtship to you? Either way, babes—doesn’t matter if you fuck my leg like a Sybian cause I’m not getting even remotely hard while this fat Mexican dude keeps bumping his ass into me every bit as unignorably as you are.
Suddenly she needs to pee, so I migrate to less Bangladeshi territory and browse SA.
After a few minutes I look up and see Karin giggling just outside the bathroom at a trio of slightly younger guys. I feel the steam collecting in my nostrils as I push my way through the horde of poopy beige Brazilians to get to them.
I get in the guy’s face.
Snarl something to the effect of “She’s busy.”
Which doesn’t make sense, obviously—but at this point I’m sauced as shit and willing as always to make a huge ass out of myself for the sake of some trivial matter of honor.
The boys just go silent… look at me as though I’ve just escaped the loony bin. A few seconds later some bouncer taps my shoulder; says I need to go. I concur with the nig emphatically; tell Karin she can come with if she wants. The lass follows me fuming.
The moment we’re out of earshot she starts chewing me out for embarrassing her.
Naturally I ask why she was flirting with the guys outside the bathroom; she says it was literally just the line, dude… and when the lads began hitting on her she was peeved and trying to politely exit the situation. I point out that I got her out of it far faster… to which Karin just shakes her head and says that I kind of ruined New Year’s for her.
So obviously I can’t resist the urge to roast her for thinking of New Year’s Eve as a proper holiday with sentimental value a la Christmas or Thanksgiving. To which she sighs; rolls her eyes; looks away—and then giggles through her teeth despite herself.
When we get back to my high rise she sighs a second time—only more to herself now. Then after a brief pause she informs me she’s just gonna head home to beat the traffic.
I frown; nod; kiss my baby on the forehead and wish her the very best of luck.
Then a few months later come *this* fucking close to porking the bitch a second time, only for it all to fall through thanks to some stupid faggoty logistical thing.
Shortly after that Karin gets a boyfriend and slams the door on me for good.
And thus we enter 2021, where I spend the first months of the year as the Other Man with whom Princess Ariel cheats on her softboy narc fiancé, and once that’s over have two other girls end up as this thing in Stasia and Roxanne—who, yes, are both INFJs.
That said I’m not gonna write about them here because they each have their own chapter in my mythopoetic narc novel and quite frankly I’d rather you go buy that.
Main takeaway though is after I return from Dragon Con I meet the aforementioned Fräulein Gretel, who in spirit becomes my Main Chick for the better part of 2022.
…at least until she flakes on a trip to come eat my cum, which induces me to overcome my butthurt / lowkey make her jel by immediately jumping into a pretty serious thing with a super cute little 20yo named Lexi… which a few months later ends itself in such a genuinely horrific way that I determine the only proper rebound for all eight or nine of these bitches who won’t stop cloggin my noggin is to double my Addy intake, cash out as much of my 401k as I can, and kind of just become an incorrigible sex addict.
For most of this period (which is to say Oct 2022-Nov 2023) I was basically a Hobbyist except I was paying rando college girls for pussie instead of hookers.
Some of the time they were in Orlando, but often I’d just fly em out to me Diddy-style, as in practice the classier type of coed will be A LOT more degenerate with you if you enjoy her in a town where no one knows her name, while most of these girlies get they lil pussies wet being “flown out” in particular since that gives erotic adventure to them.
Anyway the dumb ones I kind of just treated like hookers, but I was often genuinely romantic with the classier type, and would make them my gf when possible… though in practice I was also on so much Addy at the time and so cataclysmically dissociated (particularly after Gretel killed herself in Jan 2023) that the only girl who ended up as more than a meme amidst this epoch was Rose… and even that barely hit two months.
That said at least three of the other chicks are for sure worth calling attention to.
Meg
Now this broad was a proper fuckin pain in the ass…