Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Whoa, slow down!” I protest. “I know you’re upset, but—”
But Lucas is in full-on rant mode, his emotions and dark thoughts having festered inside his brain like a toxic pimple. And now he’s squeezing it out . . . all over the room. I guess it’s better than doing it someplace else, like in front of Nora. “That’s why this is all bullshit.” He gestures to the room at large, and at first, I’m not sure what he means. But he keeps spitting out ugliness. “Nice guys like me finish last. Bitches really just want the top percentage of guys who are hot, tall, and have big dicks. It doesn’t matter how they treat them. The shittier the better, and they swallow it down. That’s why all this simp stuff you’re preaching is a fucking scam.”
“Enough,” I say sternly, taking the gloves off to stop his downward spiral. Coldly, I give him the hard truth, still not entirely sure he’s ready for it but knowing he needs to hear it. “You went in expecting Nora to fall at your feet because you bought her a drink? If it’s that simple to you, hire a sex worker. At least then she’ll know going in that you think the barest of human kindness and ten dollars entitles you to a blow job. As for Nora, did you really like her? Want to get to know her? Or only fuck her?”
“Does it matter?” he retorts with an eye roll that lets me know he didn’t hear a single thing I said.
“Yes, it matters!” I bark, losing my cool a bit. “Why are you here if you think I’m a scam?”
Lucas sits, sullenly silent for a moment. “Because I have friends in this club and they believe in you. But it’s hard. It’s hard when every girl I meet ends up being a fucking whore who wants to be railed by a football star or trained by the whole team.”
I sit forward in my chair, pinning him with my eyes so he hears this loud and clear. “Lucas, I’m not teaching you to act a certain way or to use niceness as a means to an end,” I chastise him. “It’s got to be who you are. You have to actually care about other people, including the women you want to date. It’s not about what you’re doing, it’s about why you’re doing it. Right now, you’re not a nice guy.” I pause, letting that sink in before throwing an even harder truth. “You’re an insecure asshole with a superiority complex, but you can do better, be better.”
“Whatever,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
I half expected him to jump up to throw hands. But the fact that he took that sitting tells me that he already knows I’m right, he just doesn’t like it. So I temper my tone a bit to be more encouraging because ultimately, I don’t want to tear him down. I want to build him up.
“You care about your friends enough to be here? That shows you’re a good friend. Use that as a jump-point for how to think about others and to communicate your needs. If your buddy wanted pizza and you wanted a burger, you’d say so. Yeah?” I ask, and he nods. “It’s the same with romantic relationships. If you want a fuck buddy, find a woman who wants that too and tell her upfront. If you want a deeper romantic partner, you have to be desirable as a partner first.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Lucas says sarcastically, standing up and stomping out of the room.
“Well, that went well,” I say to the empty room as I sit back, scribbling a few notes to myself on what to keep my eye on with Lucas and what to talk to Evan about.
Lucas could be a problem. And his session casts a dark pall over my mood.
A lot of these guys come here, listen to the podcast, and benefit from both. But when they’re outside our cultivated environment, they hear, see, and live the opposite. Lucas’s demeanor and anger are disturbing, and it makes me wonder, am I pitching my message the right way? Or am I pissing into the wind and pretending that the wetness is rain? Am I really making a difference here?
While I ponder, I hear a ruckus out in the club. Getting up to go investigate, I send up a silent prayer that Rico didn’t have a secret raccoon girlfriend hiding out that’s pissed at her missing man or a gaggle of baby Ricos.
“Toro, toro, toro!” someone shouts.
I have no idea what I walked into, but there’s a small group of guys wielding various dildos and vibrators as the other guys cheer them on like warriors returning from battle. And the ‘toro’ seems to be directed at Anthony, who has a twisted, silver glitter dildo suction cupped to his forehead. He’s acting like a raging bull, running penis-horn first into a towel another guy is holding up like a matador’s cape.