“Don’t forget this fact – you can’t get it back…”

 

 

 

 

I’ve said it a million times.

I’ll say it a million more:

I don’t care if you’re a theist, agnostic or atheist.

The Book of Genesis is the greatest work ever penned.

 

 

I’ve always wanted to do a break-down of it.

Call it:

Deconstructing Genesis.

But I’m getting off topic, ever so slightly.

 

 

Have you wondered why the women with whom you “click”, women you really “get” at a deep level, women with whom you feel a True and deep connection never seem to want you back?

Go ahead, lie to me.

Lie to the mirror.

But you, in the darkest recesses of your being, know exactly what I mean.

 

 

Sure, there have been girls with whom you’ve shared a fair amount of interests/attitudes/opinions in your time on earth.

There may be ones [or one] to whom you commit and you love tremendously.

But the ones that you really seem to mesh with – intertwining hearts, souls and all that jazz – always slip away.

If they’re ever even in your grasp.

Well, here it is, in all its simple horror:

You were made for Paradise.

She wasn’t.

 

 

See, to her, Paradise feels “wrong”.

Discomforting.

Alien.

 

 

She must have sorrow.

She craves struggle.

She was born of need; it’s need she serves.

 

 

That was why Eve ate the forbidden fruit.

It was a taste of home.

 

 

 

 

Ω

“I dare you to call my bluff; [I] can’t take too much of a good thing…”

 

 

[I’ll add more to this post later but wanted to throw it out there.]

A woman whom I treasure a great deal once said:

“Men love women that are the rule.

Women love men that are the exception.”

Given gender qualities and reproductive strategies, this statement frames things quite well.

However, let’s frame this in a way I find more to my style.

 

 

Women are gambling addicts.

Take a moment.

Let that soak into your mind.

 

 

See, women like choices.

Women like drama.

Women are thrilled by risk.

What does that describe, if not a member of Gamblers Anonymous?

 

 

Women are masters at spinning plates.

There’s a term for that.

“Hedging One’s Bets”.

 

 

Women like mystery in a man; the idea they can’t completely figure him out.

There’s a term for that.

“[He Has A] Down Card”.

 

 

Women are notorious for putting even more effort into a relationship they want that seems to be garnering nothing but losses for them.

There’s a term for that strategy.

“Martingale.”

 

 

Women are all too eager to throw everything into a long-shot of a relationship.

There’s a term for that, too.

“All In/Letting it ride.”

 

 

Women like the idea of getting a man no other woman could.

Again, there’s a term for that.

“[Hitting the] Jackpot.”

 

 

Now, here’s the payout you’ve been awaiting:

Men are told to maintain frame control.

Well, doesn’t every casino do such a thing?

They make the rules.

They limit the stakes.

They reinforce intermittently.

 

 

Putting the above list simply:

They make reality theirs.

Even going so far as permitting no way for its patrons to tell if it’s day.

Or night.

Or even what time it is.

All this adds up to why, in the end:

The house always wins.

 

 

Recall, our lovely gambler isn’t addicted to winning.

[Thinking the above statement to be incorrect is a common, and all too dangerous, misconception].

She’s addicted to playing.

She likes the pain of loss.

She likes the rush of victory.

Give her too much of one or the other:

She’ll find another establishment.

 

 

After all:

Why do you think the term “Game” caught on so well?

 

 

 

 

Ω