
Originally Posted by
Icegodofhungary
Mate, we the punters are the real heroes.
Bravely navigating treacherous labyrinths of delayed shop rosters, exaggerated ARs, fake photos, misleading cup sizes, and dubious age listings to discover the hidden gems;
Whether selflessly taking one for the team, or boldly going where very many men have gone before;
Risking the wrath of our wives and girlfriends, the disapproval and treachery of draconic mamasans and forgetful receptionists;
Threading the needle of lies and half-truths with colleagues and mates as to why we need to duck out of the office at lunchtime, or get to the pub late of an evening;
Like intrepid explorers of old, finding and fucking these exotic beauties, and reporting on the experience so that others may follow in our footsteps;
Like brave Spartans we go into battle naked - should our opponents turn down the room lights, then we shall fuck in the shade;
Our only armour, thin sheaths of latex to prevent the catching of disease, and our own hardened hearts to prevent the catching of feelings;
Our only weapons the swords we carry with us, whether mighty claymore or subtle gladius, we wield them with whatever skill we can muster;
Some will choose to face only the finest, others will take on all comers; some will search vainly for their white whale, others will find the girl is an actual white whale;
Facing down enemies such as princess syndrome, over-priced extras, fake orgasms, flagging erections and the looming spectre of BBFS;
The old men risk their fading muscles and weak hearts, the young risk their future chance at any meaningful relationships with women;
But despite the risks, the rewards are great - and so we go on.