Three Surefire Way to Get Over Your Ex-Girlfriend

Posted on by Standard Reply

Though I’ve been featured on Thought Catalog for month or so now, I’ve restrained from making a blog post about the articles because they were all re-posts of articles I’ve had written earlier on this site. Now, I am happy to say I have written my first piece of original content for them and am making my first pay day as a writer. Don’t worry, I’m still going to keep on writing here mainly and letting you into my fucked up mind. Now go check out my latest piece, Three Surefire Ways to Get Over Your Ex-Girlfriend. Also, make sure you let those haters in comments section know I’m the fucking balls.

~Raul Felix

“Where else have you been featured?” On Sass & Balderdash Mother Fucker: Four Ways to Please Your High-Value Man

The Pick-Up Follies: The Snow Fatty

Posted on by Standard 8

I was in my seat on an airplane in between two very attractive women. Yet, I was unable to talk them. My breath stank and I reeked of booze, smoke, desperation, fat girl spit, and body odor. Normally, I would have started a little coy conversation in effort to see if there was a connection, but not this time. This time, I sat there in silence brooding on the foul odor that had been cast upon my body. God was just, I was being punished for the sins I had committed the previous night.

We had spent two weeks in late October 2008 on a training trip in Fort Bragg. After doing our military training for the day, we spent nearly every night of those two weeks getting hammered beyond reason or recourse. It was our last night in North Carolina and we decided to have one final hurrah before heading back to Washington. “Jonathan” and I tried to rally up a bunch of the guys to go out, but most rejected the idea knowing that we had an early morning flight to catch. We were able to get a humble group, “Blitzy”, “Tiburón”, “Jonathan”, and I to go out.

We rode through the mean streets of Fayetteville to a bar called Doghouse Bar & Grill. The place was refreshingly different from the typical bars you see outside military bases. The amount of high and tights with off-duty soldiers wearing their dog tags outside their t-shirts as a fashion accessory was kept to a minimum. Typical of southern bars, there was a cloud of cigarette smoke that engulfed the whole place. There was a live band playing country music, cheap beers, and a decent female to male ratio.

Since I always keep my head on a swivel looking for attractive women to hit on and promptly get rejected by, I noticed there was only one really hot chick in the whole entire place. Our drinks came and we made a toast to the good times and to 2/75. I kept my eye on the hot chick and noticed that she was eye fucking the singer the whole time. After he completed one of the songs, she went up to kiss him passionately. With that kiss, went my one percent chance at success with the only hot chick. It looked like hitting on the bountiful subpar chicks of the bar were the conditions I was going to operate under.

I was drinking my alcohol at a respectable rate in order to boost my courage levels so I could actually approach women. While these days I am able to hit on a chick like nothing, back then, I still needed a good helping of alcohol to get myself to talk to one at a bar. The alcohol began to set in, ever so gently, taking over my psyche. Liquid courage had been spliced with my blood. I targeted a table made up of fuckable, but unimpressive looking women. I went in and begun speaking to one about witty and charming subject matter that surely sparked her interest. After a couple of minutes, the rest of my buddies decided to join the table. One guy in particular, Blitzy, began to hit it off with one of a generic looking chicks. Eventually, the girls tired of me and I went back to sitting at the bar alone. Blitzy was forming a true spiritual connection with the generic chick.

All the guys except for Blitzy rejoined me at the bar and we continued toasting and drinking. A couple more drinks in, I locked eyes with a woman who was in the late stages of being a cougar and in the early stages of being a sabertooth. She smiles at me, I sat there frozen not sure what to do.

Raul: “That chick is looking at me.”

Jonathan: “Go for it.”

Raul: “But she’s really old.”

Jonathan: “So? Women like that will show you some crazy ass shit that you can only dream of.”

Raul: “Really?”

Jonathan: “Yeah man.”

I walked up to her and begun flirting with her all awkwardly because I wasn’t sure how the fuck you’re supposed to hit on an older woman. She was dirty blonde, with rough skin conditioned by many a decade spent in smokey bar, and had a cigarette in her mouth. I don’t recall what we talked about or what poor excuse of seductive language I used to get her to the point of holding my hand. She pulled me close and said:

Older Woman: “You’re really cute, you should come home with me.” She squeezes my hand and places it on her thigh.

Raul: “Uh… I can’t… I have to stay here with my buddies. They’re my ride.”

Older Woman: “I’ll make sure you won’t forget it.”

Raul: “I can’t, I’m sorry.” I gave her a hug and walked back.

I’ll make no excuses about it. I pussed out because I was really intimidated by this older woman even though she wasn’t that attractive.

I rejoined my buddies and was mocked for having fucked it up with the almost-sabertooth. While my little frolic with older temptation occurred, it seemed that Blitzy had truly formed a one a kind connection with the generic chick. He went about consummating their one in a million love by fucking her doggy-style in the back seat of the van while she stuck her head out the window vomiting.

We continued to drink and were inebriated to the point where we sung along with the band. All morals and standards were being slain by the alcohol demon. Then she appeared: a paled skinned woman, with dark hair, and humongous breasts. She was like Snow White, if Snow White was about 100 pounds heavier. I didn’t care, I walked up to her.

Raul: “Let me guess, you’re drinking a Jack and Coke?”

Snow Fatty: “No, it’s a Rum and Coke, but good guess.”

Raul: “I like rum and coke, let me have a taste,” I take a sip out her drink, “Not bad.”

I introduced her to my buddies and we’re introduced to her shady looking friend “Daringer.” I got close to her and heavily flirted, touching her here and there. Fully aware that I was way above her league, I knew it was all a matter of playing the waiting game before my dick will be slaying her orifices. Eventually, the bar begins to close and Blitzy wants to go back to the motel. I asked the Snow Fatty if she could give us a ride to the airport the next morning and she agreed to do so. Snow Fatty, Tiburón, Jonathan, and I all pile into Daringer’s shitty little sedan.

We arrived at the mobile home park she calls home. She and I immediately head to the bedroom. I do my standard operating procedure of shoving her on the bed, positioning myself on top of her, and kissing her. All the while, firmly squeezing her huge breasts. I begun to undress her and that’s when the magnitude of the situation hit me. Her clothes, albeit not well, hid how fat she truly was. I had estimated a 100 pounds overweight Snow White, not a grotesque 150 pounds overweight Snow White. I made the executive decision not to fuck her, instead opting to get my dick sucked until I nutted.

I straddled on top of her, had her support her head on the pillow, and began thrusting full force into her throat. She stops me at some point and wants to fuck. I tell her that I don’t have a condom and luckily, she doesn’t have any laying around either. I continued until I busted in her hair.

I came out the bedroom and Tiburón was passed out on the couch. Jonathan and Daringer were nowhere to be found. It was nearly 4 a.m. and our flight was to leave at 7 a.m. I called Jonathan up and he told me that he went to get some cocaine with Daringer. Since they were my only ride, I began to panic a bit, but then decided that most practical solution was to sleep until they return.

At 6:15 a.m. I was awoken by the pounding of the door and my buddies voices. I scrambled to my feet and scoured the floor for my shoes. “Felix, we have to go man! Lieutenant Snuffy keeps on calling Sergeant Tiburón and he’s fucking pissed,” yells Jonathan. Fuck! I finished getting dressed and we all piled into the car. We were about 20 minutes away from the airport as Daringer drove us as quickly as his little jalopy could take us. Every five minutes en route, Lieutenant Snuffy called Tiburón to get a status report on where the fuck we were at.

At 6:35 a.m. we arrived at the airport. We stumbled out of the car and right before we were going to run off the Snow Fatty asked me, “You’re going to come back one day right? You got my number.” I smile at her and said, “Of course,” and gave her a reassuring hug and run off to the check-in. One of our buddies was on stand by with our bags and we checked in. We got through security rather quickly and ran to the gate where we met up with Lieutenant Snuffy and the rest of the men. “I don’t want to hear any of you fucking idiots speak. I’m going to take care of this shit when we get back! Got it?” He yelled.

“Roger, Sir!” we all responded. We tried our best not smile and giggle at the events that unfolded the previous night. We headed into the boarding gate and Jonathan took out his phone and showed me a picture he took of Snow Fatty. “Ugh… that’s pretty gross,” I said with disappointment. We boarded the plane and I sat in between two lovely women. That’s when I noticed how horrible I must smell.

~Raul Felix

“Tell me more about your follies of picking up women.” Here mother fucker: The Pick-Up Follies: Sleazy E’s Revenge

Into the Fray

Posted on by Standard 15

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
-Theodore Roosevelt

The past couple weeks I was fortunate enough to get a few select pieces of my work featured on Thought Catalog. With that, came the epiphany that I was writing in a secure bubble. Up to this point, most of my page views came from people who were on my Facebook, word of mouth, or people who I handed my business card to randomly. While I did get a tiny bit of sporadic haters, most of my feedback had been positive and constructive. All that changed when I exposed my misogynistic, sexist, racist, and apparently, homophobic writings to the legions of Thought Catalog readers.

While I pride myself on my rhino skin and ability take criticism like a man, I was surprised at the intense level of hatred I got towards my writings. Then as my ex-girlfriend “Little Ruskie” said to me, “You do have a rather annoying attitude towards women and call them sluts. You should expect it.” She was right. If I was going to continue to write in my aggressive, chauvinistic style, then I needed to be able to take push back from those who suffer from sand in the vagina syndrome.

I say it was a 60/30/10 split in the type of comments I got. 60% of the commenters went into a fervor intently aimed at ripping me apart because of the indignation I lashed out on women and racial issues. Some of the responses were simple as, “you are a disgusting excuse for a man,” or “Raul Felix is a second rate Tucker Max wanna be.” While other’s went rather in-depth about how I was wrong about the points I’ve made and that I’m nothing more than a misogynist, sexist, racist, and a terrible writer. Those comments clearly lacked thought in my opinion and I responded to them in a sarcastic manner because I thought it would be funny.

SC1

The 30% were more well thought out comments that sometimes agreed with me somewhat or disagreed with me completely but brought some semblance of intelligence to the discussion. With those, I responded with the utmost respect. I’m always eager to learn, improve, and see things from another’s perspective, especially about things that I write. I had a great time having some rather insightful conversation with those people who took time to not be trolls.

10% were people who supported me, agreed with what I said, and found it humorous. I must say, I did enjoy this a lot and it was a good ego boost (like I need one) to know there are people who took what I said for what it was: satire and humor. These are the readers who motivate me to keep writing because I don’t ever want to disappoint them. I’m very thankful for their support and some of them even stood up for me in the comment section, which totally made me feel like a special little snowflake.

This is just the beginning. Despite all the negativity, no amount of hate is ever going to cause me to quit going after my dream. My dream is to be a writer, write on a professional level, and eventually evolve into one of the best wordsmiths of my generation. I have an opportunity and I’m not going to let a few jabs at my ego stop me. I feel like a young man, who has grown up his entire life in the safety of the suburbs, where people were cordial and supportive, venturing out into the big city for the first time on his own. Now, as I take my first steps into the cold, heartless city that is the writing world on a grander scale, I keep my head up and my scrappy attitude on point. I’m charging into the fray that is being a writer on a big site. It’s a place where people are more than eager to tear you down, spit on you, nit-pick every single one of your mistakes, and hope for your failure. A place where very few are your friends and most will find a reason to hate you no matter what. A place where they see your failure as a victory for themselves. Its place where you have to be strong to make it and if you’re weak, you’re going to get eviscerated.

I have a message for those who seek to see me quit: it’s not going to happen. I’m not a pussy who quivers and cries to mama when the world knocks me down. I’m not a dreamer who has these grand plans, but takes no measurable steps to achieve them. I’m not a man who talks shit, but is unable to take it return. I’ll tell you what I am. I’m a man who writes under his real name and is going after what he wants in life and isn’t afraid to tell you what he wants, feels, or thinks. I’m a man willing and putting in the hard work and long hours needed to make it in this world. I’m a man who is ready to put up with rejection, abuse, and make the sacrifices necessary in order to meet his goals. I’m a man you can’t keep down no matter how much you want to or how many of you there are. Most importantly, I am writer, whether you like it or not. I’m tapping away at the keyboard right now because I have the intestinal fortitude required to do what so many claim they are able to, but so few are actually willing to. Surrendering is not an option for me and I will be dead before I do. When I do die, whether I am world famous or an obscurity, I will have no regrets, because I went for it and didn’t look back.

~Raul Felix

“You motivate me! What else you got?” Taking The Hits

Who’s Fucking My Woman?

Posted on by Standard 26

“You know what is really fucked up?” says my buddy, “Your future wife is out there right now and she’s banging some other dude. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Yeah, your future wife could be getting gang banged right now,” I say with a smirk because I think I am clever.

A few hours pass and I’m working out at the gym, an epiphany strikes. ”Holy fuck! My future wife could be getting gang banged right now! FUCKING WHORE!” I think to myself, “No fuck that, I’ll never accept that in a woman who would be my significant other.”

Even without going to the orgy extremes, there is still a very high chance that she probably has some other dudes schlong nestled snuggly in one of her pleasure holes. More than likely, some other guy has already been her first blow job, fuck, and anal experience. As a fully grown man, there isn’t anything you can do about it. Girls are losing their virginity before they even graduate high school. Unless you want to run the risk of losing your anal virginity in federal-pound-me-in-the-ass prison because of statutory rape, it’s a fact of life you’re going to have to accept.

I try to reason with myself that maybe she won’t be a virgin by the time she gets to me, but please don’t be a used up whore. Then I churn in my head all the shit I’ve learned about women over my short lifetime. I think of the girls I’ve known who’ve gone through their slut phases in their teens and twenties. They are now settling down into a real adult relationship or having kids, kissing their little infants with lips that have sucked dozens of cocks.

This is where the modern man and traditional machismo man inside me have a moral qualm. “I’ve had my share of random pussy and sexual experiences,” says the modern man, “How can I be a hypocrite?” Then machismo man says, “You’re a man. It’s your nature to go out to fuck random women, do stupid shit, and then apply the lessons you’ve learned when you get into a relationship with a woman who is actually worth settling down with. Whores are to be used and then promptly tossed aside.”

“Women are people too. They’re free to make their own sexual choices,” says the modern man.

“Yes, they are. You don’t have to accept them though. Just as she has the right to fuck around, you have the right to not to take a woman who has fucked around too much as a candidate for a partner,” rebuttals the machismo man.

“Well, that’s true. But, you’re not going to find a virgin over the age of 18 though. Even if you did, there’s a 95.5% chance it’s either because she’s a religious prude or just an ogre of a woman,” says the modern man.

The machismo man pauses, “You make a good fucking point. There is a balance to be had, the number just can’t be too high.”

“What’s too high of a number?” Asks the modern man.

“I don’t fucking know. Uh… hopefully in the single digits or at the most, one dude per year since she’s lost her v-card,” responds the machismo man.

I can already hear the responses about how it’s hypocritical or how if she had safe sex, it really shouldn’t matter. Or more likely, it shows lack of a self confidence in a man because he can’t handle a woman who enjoyed sex or that he’s slut-shaming. There is nothing wrong with a woman loving sex. Women who love sex are fucking awesome. The issue is how easy it was for her to spread those legs to whatever cute guy she came across after having one or two cosmos.

This is the feeling a lot of us machismo men, yes, I unapologetically admit to being very machismo, possess: we want to conquer and dominate. We want to be the best lover in our woman’s life and it irks us to know someone else possessed her at some point. We don’t want to share. We don’t want to boldly go where dozens (maybe hundreds) of cocks have gone before. We want to go to pristine, fresh grounds that only a few, very select and lucky cocks got to prance around in.

Does a woman become a less valuable member of society because she’s had a train ran on her by a platoon worth of men? Of course not. It doesn’t make her a bad person or vile creature to be avoided. She can still be a great friend, co-worker, and contributing member of society. It’s her right to do whatever the fuck she wants. There are always consequences to said actions. Consequences of being a whore is that some men are going to be put off by it.

Just like many a woman may not want to be with me because I’m Hispanic, self-centered, not her type, unstable, lower class, unestablished, an alcoholic, uneducated, or many other factors. For me, being a whore is a deal breaker, plain and simple. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still fuck her but take her as serious girlfriend material? Not going to happen.

Some may curse me for wanting that, hoping that I do end up falling in love with a whore to teach me a lesson for having the balls to state my standards. That’s on par with me wishing for a woman to end up with a cheating husband because she said she didn’t want to be with a man who cheats. Or wishing a Jewish woman ends up with non-Jew because she said she only dates Jewish men.

Part of being a free individual in our society is that we get to pick the qualities we value in our partners. No body is perfect and we’re all fucked up in our own way, but each of us have qualities that we put at a higher priority above others. A woman can be a whore and be a great person or a woman can be a virgin and be a total piece of shit.

For myself, I value looks, intelligence, good character, ambition, and non-sluttiness. Other mens lists may be different. A woman’s list may be different. Your list may be different. It’s our quest to find that person that possess the qualities we value highly and hopefully, we possess the qualities they value highly in return so they’ll actually want to be with us.

Am I such a horrible person for not wanting a whore as a significant other? Its fine, you wouldn’t want to be with such a backwards thinking, macho, misogynistic asshole who doesn’t value your right to express your sexual liberations by having cocks of all sorts destroying your orifices any ways. And future ex-wife, if you’re reading this, please try to keep it in the single digits.

~Raul Felix

“You sexist pig! Who do you think you are?” At least I didn’t make a rape reference… oh wait: Politcally Incorrect and Loving It

Guy Talk: Hot Tranny

Posted on by Standard 8

Raul: “Dude, that fucking Tranny was hotter than most chicks. I am genuinely jealous that you picked her up.”

Calvin: “I know, right? It was really sexually confusing.”

Raul: ”Well, it’s not gay because you weren’t attracted to her masculine features. You were attracted to the parts of her that looked like a hot chick.”

Calvin: “Still, she told me she had a dick.”

Raul: “Ewww… fuck that.”

Calvin: “I figure the only way I could do it is if she and I were both fucking the same chick. The chick could be sucking my dick and she could be fucking her from behind. That way I only see the her face and boobs and I can kiss her and play with her boobs.”

Raul: “So you can go to second base with her? Anything after second base would be gay?”

Calvin: “Exactly.”

Raul: “Fuck yeah. She had some really fucking nice boobs. I wish I could have seen them like you got to.”

Calvin: “They were really nice.”

Raul: “I don’t know man. I wouldn’t be able get to over the fact that she had a dick.”

Calvin: “That part is sort of gross.”

Raul: “Maybe if she was post-op it would be easier.”

Calvin: “Surgeries are pretty good these days.”

Raul: “Do they actually make it look like a legit vagina?”

Calvin: “Yeah man. They use your scrotum skin to replicate the labia.”

Raul: “What about lubrication? There is no way they can replicate that.”

Calvin: “I don’t know. Just use lube I guess.”

Raul: “Do they still feel pleasure if you fuck them in the pussy? One of the best parts of sex for me is making my woman feel good and if she doesn’t feel anything, what the hell is the point?”

Calvin: “I think they use the skin from your dick head to make a makeshift clit. That’s all a clit really is, an underdeveloped dick.”

Raul: “You think technology will get so good one day that they’ll be able to perfectly create everything about the vagina, even the whole lubrication and pleasure aspect of it?”

Calvin: ”I’m sure it will.”

Raul: “If I did fuck one, I’d prefer to stay blissfully ignorant.”

Calvin: “You can always tell by the hands. You can change everything but the hands.”

Raul: “I’ll fucking keep a look out for that. I don’t want to fuck a dude.”

~Raul Felix

“That’s fucking disgusting. You’re going to hell!” Fuck you and read: Guy Talk: Animal Love

Why Being a 90’s Kid Was Badass

Posted on by Standard 18

At the risk of offending the several cougar fans(you know who you are) I have who no doubt want to have sex with me if the circumstances allowed it, I have the following statement to say: Being a 90’s kid was the best and greatest time to be an adolescent so far. Sorry cougars who had their childhoods in the 70’s and 80’s. While you Gen Xers and Baby Boomers were busy raping our futures with short-sighted policies on banking and government regulations that would leave us riddled with a huge national debt, unemployment, and underemployment, we were watching bad ass TV shows, playing sweet ass video games, and messing around with some tits ass toys.

We Had the Most Bad Ass TV Shows EVER!

I’m talking about Power Fucking Rangers, Tiny Fucking Toons Adventures, Rocko’s Fucking Modern Life, The Fucking Simpsons, Ahhh… Real Fucking Monsters, Adventures of Fucking Pete and Pete, The Fucking Critic, Global Fucking Guts, The Fucking Wonder Years, and my favorite of all, Fucking Doug. If while reading that list your eyes just sparkled a tiny bit and smile ran upon your twenty-something face, congratulations, you were blessed with being a 90’s kid in fucking America.

This was the time when basic cable was at its peak. Nickelodeon had its original Nick Toons and Cartoon Network was just beginning to evolve from just airing old Hanna-Barbara Cartoon into developing their own in house shows. We had great after school shows from FOX Kids and Kids WB. We were young and full of hope. Why wouldn’t we be when he had hero’s like the Power Rangers?

FUCK YES!

FUCK YES!

Power Rangers wore sweet ass helmets with tights of different colors (red was my favorite) and beat the crap out of monsters sent to attack earth by Rita Repulsa. Then Rita Repulsa would throw her staff at the Earth and make the monsters grow as big as skyscrapers. Holy fuck, shit just got real, but not to worry, because the most kick ass part was to come. The Power Rangers would then summon their colossal robotic “zords” and each would be some type of dinosaur. The T-Rex was my favorite! Then, oh my fucking god, they would combine and form The MegaZord that kicked so much ass. In the ensuing epic battle, they would destroy the city and monster, thus winning the day. Then the episode would neatly conclude and everyone would learn to Just Say No to Drugs. Also, Kimberly, the Pink Ranger, was the perfect girl and was the source of many a prepubescent boner.

My dream girl at age 8.

My dream girl at age 8.

With that solid set of role models, we were set up for success. While adults were busy watching boring ass shows like Melrose Place and Party of Five, we were honing our funny bone with some great comedic works. A few especially affluent 90’s kids will remember The Critic. A short-lived animated series that was too good for its time. Starring the paunchy Jay Sherman as a film Critic that has low self-confidence, bad luck with women, and pretty much used as a punching bag by those he loves. The show had edge and a special wit it used to parody movies, celebrities, and current events that was only matched by The Simpsons.

Combine the many shows of that caliber and access to it in our youths, and you have 90’s kids, brought up to have a pretty wicked sense of humor. We are the generation that paved the way for all the shows that currently dominate.

We Had a Sweet Ass Video Gaming Experience

In general, Baby Boomers were too old at the time to really get into video games and misjudged video games as just another fad. While a lot of Gen Xers got into video games as well, they merely adopted them. 90’s kids were born into them, forged by them. We never knew of a world without them. Before we knew how to say our alphabets, we had a Nintendo controller in our hands. Hoping to beat Super Mario Brothers without having to start over a million times or trying to shoot all the ducks in Duck Hunt.

SuperMarioNES

FUCK YES!

Sometime during the first decade of our existence(’91), the gods blessed us with Super Nintendo and Sega Genesis, effectively ensuring our eternal dedication. They enriched our lives with Super Mario World, Street Fighter 2, F-Zero, Super Ghouls and Ghosts, Sonic The Hedgehog, and Altered Beast. Games whose names when uttered fills the body with a form of romanticism and nostalgia resembling Al Bundy thinking about the time he scored four touch downs in a single game.

It was a great time, the 16 Bit War was raging, the video game industry hadn’t run out of idea’s yet, and there were no load times. You would go over to a friends house after school and play some Street Fighter 2. Totally ignoring whatever lame ass crap adults did. Look at them, they’re just sitting around drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and NOT playing video games, what a bunch of joyless weirdoes.

Video games became a part of our generation. Nearly every 90’s kid has at least played Super Mario Brothers and most of them had video game system in their houses growing up. A lot of them still have the modern systems in their home right now. Mario, Sonic, and Pokemon have grown up to be idols to us. These characters from a more carefree and innocent time still remain with us today after we have ventured out into the cold, unforgiving world full of disappointment, gloom, and doom.

Speaking of doom, we played the shit out of Doom on PC on Microsoft DOS. Blowing the shit out of zombie marines and imps. Even though they had the same death animation, it seemed so realistic to our naive eyes that we actually felt we were going through a war with demons from hell. While older generations scoffed, and some groups tried to censor our games for being too violent, we knew better and played them any ways. Fuck the system.

Shit just got fucking real.

Shit just got fucking real.

Ours was the first true gamer generation, sure, others had guys who played Pong, Space Invaders, and Pac Man, but ours was the first one to play video games in mass and pushed the industry forward. What did kids before us do? Pretty lame crap like hula hoop and jacks. What the fuck is that shit?

We Had Tits Ass Toys

While we loved watching TV shows about good guys fucking shit up and playing good guys fucking shit up in video games, we also wanted to act out the role of good guys fucking shit up. There were a few toys from the 90’s that totally epitomized the whole fucking shit up concept.

King of the Nerf Battle

King of the Nerf Battle

The Nerf Ultimator was one of them. It was big, powerful, slow, and inaccurate. It was essentially a Nerf RPG. With this big boy you could shoot at your friends from a long distance and have some small hope of hitting them. The thundering noise it gave off while the trigger was pulled struck terror into the hearts of your enemies. The key to this weapon was shooting at close distance so it could totally rock your poor opponents world. You had to be careful if you missed because the reload time was insane and thus leaving you extremely vulnerable. If you could master this weapon, you would own the battlefield.

Though my family was poor, they put their money together one Christmas and got me the most tits toy of the year, The Megazord. I’ve explained it earlier what it was, but you have no idea how cool it felt to have a real life Megazord in my hands. My imagination will go wild as I would imagine sweet scenarios where I stomped the guts out of my other actions figures who were playing the role of enemy monsters. After thoroughly vanquishing my foes, I would imagine jumping out of The Megazord in my Red Ranger suit and making out with Kimberly.

FUCK YES!

FUCK YES!

I don’t know how any previous generations childhood could have been better than that of a 90’s kids. Seriously, what the hell did you guys do when you were bored at home on a Saturday night? I think the kids today have it pretty damn awesome. I see my two year old niece using the iPhone and iPad with a higher degree of competence than half of adults. She’ll never endure commercial breaks, 56k modems, or AOL banning her from chat room because she cursed too much. She’ll never feel the pain of having to beat a video game with no save points or having to blow into the cartridge in order for the game to work. She’ll never be disconnected from the internet when her mom picks up the phone or have to deal with being forced to watch novelas during the time she should be watching The Simpsons because there is only one TV in the house. I just look at her in amazement and jealousy of how awesome her childhood is going to be because of all these neat toys and video games she has access to. Spoiled brat.

~Raul Felix

Life has been rough to me since the 90’s… got any advice?: Three Rock Solid Way To Become a More Marketable Bum

Three Crappy Mistakes I’ve Made as a Boyfriend

Posted on by Standard 14

So you think you’ve got your woman on lockdown because your competence as a lover is so grand that the mere sight of you makes her privates all moist and tingly. With your confidence, masculine presence, and sexual powers, you’ve managed to enslave her with your cock. It’s a great feeling isn’t? You’ve dedicated yourself to learning how her delicate, soft, and beautiful body reacts to your touches as you finger bang her through her pretty pink panties. You’ve communicated with her and found out what turns her on and what really turns her on, that nympho. She’s your little toy that you use as you please. Life is good.

Now, I want you to think about the other things you do in your relationships after you’ve given her the most amazing 30 seconds of her life with your 3 inches of fury, stud. As much as you wish it wasn’t true, a vast majority of the time you spend with her isn’t going to be with your cock punishing one of her orifices. What are some things you can do to avoid losing your precious little nympho during those times when you can’t display your coital powers? Here are some crappy mistakes I’ve made as a boyfriend.

Don’t Make Minimums, Maximums

You don’t cheat on, beat, or emotionally abuse your woman. Great, maybe you also want your cock sucked for not murdering someone, robbing a bank, or pushing old ladies down stairs. That’s not something to be proud of, it should be a standard that you hold yourself to. It’s what is expected out of you from a relationship, it’s not just a happy plus.

When is the last time you’ve done something to really make your woman feel special? Has it really been that long you can’t even remember? You’re fucking up. You don’t believe it matters, but it does.

My ex was a very lovely Israeli woman and I would take a one and half hour bus ride to go see her. I’d do it twice a week, sometimes more. In my mind, I was doing a lot for her. I was going out of my way to see her all the time, that’s romantic right? Did it ever occur to me to buy her flowers, get her chocolates, or other cutesy crap girls like? Yes, it did, but I always failed to act upon it. I thought the trip I was doing was more than enough to show my love. I failed to acknowledge the subtle and not so subtle hints she gave that she wanted me to do more romantic things.

Don’t make the minimums your maximums. She is your woman, you’re expected to go out of your way to see her. You’re expected to take her out on occasion. You’re expected to tell her she is beautiful. Just because you do those things, doesn’t mean you can’t do more. You can buy her those flowers or surprise her with a sushi candlelight dinner on the balcony. You can send cute little love letters through the mail that will be reminiscent of by gone era before the invention of e-mail. Yes, the big things matter, but so do the little things. Strive to do way more than is required to be a good boyfriend.

There is a lazy human tendency we all tend to have where we become complacent. We grow comfortable in our relationships and start believing the just doing the minimum to show our love and devotion is enough. We already did all that romantic bullshit in the beginning, why do we need to keep on doing it? It’s established how we feel. Boredom sets in, gentlemen, and your little sex vixen will wonder why she is no longer worth your thoughtfulness and attention. She will become bored and disenchanted, and a woman bored and disenchanted is one in a position to over examine every detail of the relationship and what it has become.

The choice is yours, maybe she’ll stay loyal and break up with you cleanly, or maybe she’ll fuck around on you, but either is something you can avoid if you took those extra steps. If she does either any ways, fuck that bitch then, at least you gave it your all.

It’s Okay to Look, but Don’t Lie About It

I know some people are in an open relationship, which is cool, but that’s not how I roll. That doesn’t mean I don’t take the liberty to check out a hot piece of ass that is passing by. My girl and I would be walking along being a happy and loving couple, when all of sudden some chick with a generous breast size would come towards us. My eyes would focus on those huge tits, but being the tactful man I am my head or body movements would never give a hint. Then, she would pass by, I would wait three-seconds and turn around to check out the ass. I was a sly one.

I wasn’t. My girl noticed every single time. Your girl notices every single time. She probably will notice the chick before you and thus knowing your tastes, will know she is the kind of eye candy you go after. She will then begin to sense any type of movements or subtle changes you make in your misguided effort to masquerade eye-fucking another chick.

Now, the part the truly pisses her off is not the fact that you’re checking out other chicks, but that you’re making a pathetic attempt to hide it. You really think your girl is that clueless that she won’t notice you eye-fucking every fine piece of ass the passes by? Don’t insult her intelligence.

The best thing to do is to be honest about it. It’s natural for you as a man to be attracted to other women (and she to other men.) Its part of our genetic make up. If you have a traditional type relationship, make sure to follow the age old rule: look, but never touch. As long as your woman isn’t the overbearing, jealous type she won’t mind too much if you look so long as you don’t do anymore than that. Honesty is the key.

Who knows, if you tell her what kind of girls you’re attracted to, she’ll be more inclined to suggest some extra naughty things in the sack and maybe, dare you dream, suggest a threesome. Most likely not though, but it’s always nice to fantasize about it.

Easy on the Criticism

You like big 36DD sized boobs, but your girl has a respectable, but slightly smaller sized 36C. You know what is not a great idea? Telling her that maybe she should get breasts implants. Yes, I said that, and yes, I am an idiot.

By criticizing her body, you have undermined her self-confidence, and thus her willingness to be your little sex vixen. How is she suppose to feel sexy wearing that silk red lingerie she bought just for you if you told her you prefer big floppy boobs over her nice and perky ones? It’s the equivalent of her saying she prefers a cock that is only a couple of inches larger than yours.

Seriously, think about that for a moment. Your woman who you love so dearly, just told your cock is just a bit too small. How good do you feel about yourself? Do you feel adequate? Do you feel like a man? I bet you don’t. You are doing the same thing to her by criticizing her slight lack of breasts size. You are making her feel bad, inadequate, and unfeminine. Pretty easy to make her pussy dry up like Death Valley. Kind of fucked up thing to do to the person you love.

As long as your woman isn’t obese, getting obese, or disgusting (why would she be your woman if she was), make her feel comfortable in her body. Her body has a special uniqueness that only belongs to her. Part of the fun of fucking a woman is that you get to feel every inch of her. Your hands have free to reign to run wild all over her body and feel how her special curves line up. Enjoy it, because they are a part of her and most likely, you’re never going to fuck a girl that looks perfectly like her again.

Make it known that you love to ravage every inch of her body and keep your hyper critical and non-constructive comments to yourself. You’ll get so much more in return. Otherwise, you’ll be back to jerking off to porn with girls with 36DD in no time.

~Raul Felix

“Awww that was sweet, how about you stop this love shit and show me some sexist stuff.” Fine: The Feminine Afcionado

Note: This post has been featured on Return of Kings

Quotes July 2013

Posted on by Quote 2

The following quotes are from my readings of books and blogs the last few months. Read them, they may make you slightly smarter.

“There is a problem with writers. If what a writer wrote was published and sold many, many copies, the writer thought he was great. If what a writer wrote was published and sold a medium number of copies, the writer thought he was great. If what a writer wrote was published and sold very few copies, the writer thought he was great. If what the writer wrote never was published and he didn’t have the money to publish it himself, then he thought he was truly great.”
-Henry Chinaski, Women

“Many a good man has been put under the bridge by a woman.”
-Henry Chinaski, Women

“Once a woman turns against you, forget it. They can love you, then something turns in them. They can watch you dying in a gutter, run over by a car, and they’ll spit on you.”
-Henry Chinaski, Women

“When I date a girl, she rarely has to pay for anything. I tell her good stories about my travels. I teach her things I’ve learned in life. I take her to places she’s never been. I bring her to a comfortable apartment. I cook for her. I make her drinks. I give her good love in bed. I barely lie to them… And what do I get in return? Only her vagina.”
–Roosh V, Why Can’t I Use A Smiley Face?

“Wealthy men have revealed that when it comes to wives, quality is more important than quantity.”
-Dr. Marina Ashade, Dollars and Sex

“Russia is, really, a very cost-effective place to be a self-destructive drunk.”
–English Teacher X, Vodkaberg

“There’s some sage advice for you, youngster, from a season veteran – be careful about falling for people who have all the same bad qualities as you.”
-English Teacher X, Vodkaberg

“Jimmy Hendrix is a true artist and anyone with an advanced degree in the performing arts are mere wannabe’s. Be a true artist, don’t be a wannabe. Practice your passion, but don’t pay somebody to tell you how to do it.”
–Aaron Clarey, Worthless

“The professional self-validates. She is tough-minded. In the face of indifference or adulation, she assesses her stuff coldly and objectively. Where it fell short, she’ll improve it. Where it triumphed, she make it better still. She’ll work harder. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
-Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

“If you work hard and study hard, and you fuck up, that’s okay. If you fuck up and fuck up, then you’re a fuckup.”
-Sam Halpern, Shit My Dad Says

“Out of your league?! What fucking league are you talking about?! You are a man, she is a fucking woman. That is all that matters, goddamn it!”
-Sam Halpern, Shit My Dad Says

“You strut up to the world, ready to take it on once again, and look at it right in the eyes, “Hey mother fucker, remember me? You fucked with the wrong son of a bitch.”
-Raul Felix, Taking the Hits

“People are always trying to tell you how they feel. Some of them say it outright, and some of them, they tell you with their actions. And you have to listen… But do me a favor: Listen, and don’t ignore what you hear.”
-Sam Halpern, Shit My Dad Says

“What’s hard for a comedian is that they make a living on their anxieties and their self-doubts, but in real life they try and separate themselves from that. Chris[Farley] didn’t do that. He was absolutely honest in what he was.”
-Norm McDonald, The Chris Farley Show

“Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer people,
make them happy, and forget momentarily,
all the unpleasantness in their lives.

And in my final moment,
may I hear You whisper:
‘When you made My people smile,
you made Me smile.”
-A Clowns Prayer

“Established men of wealth and power have always wanted men to believe that being a man was about duty and obedience, or that manhood could be proved by attaining wealth and power through established channels. Men of religion and ideology have always wanted men to believe that being a man was a spiritual or moral endeavor, and that manhood could be proved through various means of self-mastery, self-denial, self-sacrifice or evangelism. Men who have something to sell have always wanted men to believe that masculinity can be proved or improved by buying it.”
-Jack Donovan, The Way of Men

“Controlling one’s own fate within the context of group give-and-take has to do with figuring out what you bring to the table and making yourself valuable to the group. The bare minimum required for moving from dependence to interdependence is competence and self-sufficiency-the ability to carry one’s own weight.”
-Jack Donovan, The Way of Men

“Nobody is free… Everyone has a prison. Wife, parents, children, they all makes prisons.”
-Ted Simon, Jupiters Travels

“The Latin American has no tribe to fall back on, as the African does, no reliable judiciary to defend his rights as the European does, no social ideal or sacred constitution as the North American does, no pervasive mythology to soften life as it does in Asia, and no even an ideology to subscribe to, as does the Russian or Chinese. Without wealth, what is there left to him but his manhood, to be flaunted and defended at every occasion?”
-Ted Simon, Jupiter’s Travels

“Your fearful attitude encloses you in an invisible prison, and there you shall remain.”
-Robert Greene, The 50th Law

“True ownership can come only from within. It comes from a disdain for anything or anybody that impinges upon your mobility, from a confidence in your own decisions, and from the use of your time in constant pursuit of education and improvement.”
-Robert Greene, The 50th Law

“When your work does not communicate with others, consider it your own fault-you did not make your ideas clear enough and you failed to connect with your audience emotionally. This will spare you any bitterness or anger that might come from people’s critiques. You are simply perfecting your work through the social mirror.”
-Robert Greene, The 50th Law

“Tell beautiful women they are smart, and smart women they are beautiful.”
–Tucker Max, Hilarity Ensues

“To get what you want out of life, all you really need to do is be honest about it, don’t be afraid to go for it, and have fun while you do it.”
-Tucker Max, Hilarity Ensues

“Once a man sees what is possible and makes just a few changes, a whole new world opens up where he finds opportunities that he couldn’t see before.”
-Roosh V, A Dead Bat In Paraguay

“Men and women both wanna’ have sex, but they’re on different time tables. Women want sex 15 minutes later than men do. If you hold out for 20 minutes, she’ll be chasing you for 5.”
–TC Luoma, Atomic Dog: The Testosterone Principles

“… you’ll die in the midst of trying to realize your Personal Legend. That’s a lot better than dying like millions of other people, who never even knew what their Personal Legends were.”
-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

“There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”
-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

“Past success counts for nothing. All that matters is how well we’ll perform on the next real-world mission.”
-Pete Blaber, The Mission, The Men, and Me

“I believe there is nothing worse than indecision and that it is often better to act than to stagnate.”
-Carlos A. Caggiani, Tracks and Horizons

“Do that thing–be painfully honest–and you’ll get there, because no one else does it. Everyone in the world is a liar, whether its to themselves or to everyone else, they’re all full of shit. If you have the courage to tell the truth, to open your soul to the world, even a little bit, the world will stop and look.”
-Tucker Max

“Habit will be your champion. When you train the mind to think one way and one way only, when you refuse to allow it to think in another, that will produce great strength in battle.”
-Stephen Pressfield, Gates of Fire

“Women continue to reward bold moves made by men because of the confidence it displays.”
-Roosh V, 30 Bangs

“There’s a window of opportunity with every girl and once that passes it becomes impossible to bang.”
-Roosh V, 30 Bangs

“I’ve learned a long ago that it never pays to be the most famous person in the room.”
-Ron Jeremy, The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz

“A best friend is someone you’ve known for more than a decade, but if you had never met him before, and then hung out with today for the first time, you’d remark, ‘Wow. What a dick.”
-Aaron Karo, I’m Having More Fun Than You

“A writer who can’t deal with rejection is like a surfboard who can’t deal with water.”
-Michael Ellsburg

“Consider yourself lightly; consider the world deeply.”
-Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings

“Many men get in their own way by not allowing themselves to go after, or have, what they most want in life. This is the biggest mistake a man can make in living. As a matter of fact, to do so is to not truly live, because you will be living in chains. Only by freeing yourself will you live and live well.”
–Tao of Dirt

“All men make mistakes and fail from time to time. It’s the strongest, most free of men that move forward, ever learning, as if nothing bad had occurred. Indeed, to fail at something is nothing bad at all; to not try in the first place is regrettable.”
-Tao of Dirt

~Raul Felix

Read: Influences: Maddox, Tucker Max, APB, TC Luoma

Empty Chair

Posted on by Standard 9

I take my seat at the restaurant
Table for one
An empty chair across from me
Your chair

I sit there waiting for the waiter
I wonder what I would have said
To make you crack a smile
To hear the sound of your laughter

The waiter asks my drink order
I’ll take a beer, a Hoegaarden please
What would you have ordered?
Or would you have just sipped off of mine

Silence
I drink my beer in silence
something that was rare
when you were sitting across from me

No snarky comments about the
lady across from us who is too fat
or that big breasted chick on the right
or how you should just order your own beer

I place my order
something filling and hearty
you would have ordered
something with shrimp in it

Running low on my first glass
I would have ordered two
just to stop you
from sipping off of my beer

I look at the empty chair
My hand would have been on your thigh
I would be giving you random kisses
And teasing you in what I believe to be adorable ways

The food is here
After I took my first few bites
I would have taken some of yours
you would have taken some of mine

The meal is good
I would have ate it too fast,
still hungry
I’d take what’s left of yours

The check is here
It would have been my turn to pay
I’d let you calculate the tip
and we’d be on our way

I leave alone
Those days are over
I wonder who would take your place
In that empty chair.

~Raul Felix

Some more deep shit: Heartbreak

The Pick-Up Follies: The Halloween Abandonment

Posted on by Standard 15

It was Halloween 2009, I got invited to a Halloween Party held at a bar in San Juan Capristano for a network marketing (pyramid scheme) company that I was a part of. Always being one to sport funny Halloween costumes, I dressed up as Frylock from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. I arrived alone and met up with some of the people I sort of knew. I began doing what Raul Felix does best, I started drinking irresponsibly and socializing.

I made my rounds, fully confident that I had the best costume there because who the fuck is going to top dressing up as a box of french fries? I’m about three or four drinks in and I start talking to girls and flirting, but nothing is connecting. I start getting a little frustrated and drink some more in an effort to amp up my charm, which history has dictated is always a great idea.

That’s when I saw her. She was dressed up as a vampire witch thing or something. Actually, I don’t even remember what the fuck she was dressed up as but I can tell you it was seductive enough to attract my attention. Or I may have just been drunk and desperate. She was tall, blonde, had a voluptuous body, big breasts, and my ultimate weakness, a full ass. She was a cougar in her mid-forties. I positioned myself next to her, and noticed she was drinking a beer.

Raul: “Wow, a woman who knows how to drink beer, that’s rare.”

VampireWitch: “Yeah, I don’t do any of those girlie drinks… like you.” She points to the white russian I’m drinking.

Raul: “Hey, the white russian is the manliest of all drinks. The Dude from The Big Lebowski drinks them.”

VampireWitch: “I like that movie. Still though, that’s still borderline fruity. Are those cherry’s in there?”

Raul: “Yes, cherries are bad ass. They add a sweet little flavor to it. Try it.” I give her the drink and she takes a sip from it. Here is a pro tip for you: if a woman takes a drink from your drink or allows you to take a drink from hers, it means she is somewhat interested in you or at the very least not completely repulsed by you.

VampireWitch: “Not bad. You’re too handsome to be wearing that silly costume.”

Raul: “Its funny though! I’m Frylock from Aqua Teen Hunger Force.” She gave me a blank look which truly indicted how far apart our generations were.

Neither one of these girl is VampireWitch.

Neither one of these girls is VampireWitch.

Our conversation then transformed into the mindless basics and we started dancing. That’s when I felt a vibration and looked down at my cell phone. A buddy of mine just texted me to remind me to pick him up at his work so we could go to some house party he invited me to. I told VampireWitch that I needed to go, got her number, and gave her a kiss.

I picked up “LittleBean” at his work and quickly informed him that he needs to take over driving responsibilities for I planned to get shit housed. We stopped by the store, bought beer, and headed to the house party. By the time we arrived, I was a few beers away from peaking and spiraling down into the abyss.

The house party was all of his co-workers and their friends. LittleBean was the only person I knew. Since I tend to be somewhat outgoing when I drink, I started talking to people and mingling. I don’t recall the exact order of these events, but the following ensued throughout my stay there:

1. I flirted with some chick in a Little Red Riding Hood outfit and she was digging me and rubbing on me, but I ended up fucking it up somehow.

2. I smoked some pot and started becoming extremely paranoid.

3. Some dude was overprotective of his female cousin and I had a man to man talk with him about how he should let her be her own woman.

4. I took a couple of shots of whiskey.

5. I vomited in the bushes.

6. The rest of the chicks rejected my ambitious, but sloppy and misguided attempts to hit on them.

7. I got into an argument with the owner of the house and got LittleBean and myself kicked out.

I'm STILL pissed off at myself for fucking it up this cute chick.

I’m STILL pissed off at myself for fucking it up with this cute chick.

Raul: “Fuck those mother fuckers, I’m going to call VampireWitch.” I call her up and she informs me that she is staying in Newport Beach at a friends house. She invites me over for us to have some fun. LittleBean drives my truck there and I stumbled out of the truck and VampireWitch grabs me.

VampireWitch: “You need to take that ugly costume off.” I take it off and throw it in my truck. Since VampireWitch agreed to give me a ride to pick up my truck the next day, LittleBean drives away and goes home.

I aggressively begin kissing her and grabbing her big ass. She then stops me, grabs my hand, and leads me into her friends multi-million dollar home. We sneak in, careful not to make too much noise because she didn’t want her friend to know, and go into the guest bedroom. I shove her onto the bed and get on top of her kissing her passionately. With each messy drunk movement, taking off an article of clothing. I take off her bra, releasing her big breast, and begin sucking on her nipples. I get completely naked. Then I work my way down to taking off her panties, she stops me.

VampireWitch: “Do you have a condom?”

Raul: “Yeah of course… wait… fuck! They’re in my truck!”

VampireWitch: “Are you kidding me?”

Raul: “You could suck my dick.”

VampireWitch: “Well you do have a nice cock.” She starts sucking and slobbering all over my cock. After a while I’m ready to cum and since I’m a man brought up by internet porn, I opt to cum on her face.

She cleans herself off and we are laying in bed talking and waiting for me to recharge when her phones rings.

VampireWitch: “Oh shit, it’s my husband.”

Raul: “Your husband? I didn’t know you were married.”

VampireWitch: “Yeah, it’s a weird situation. We’re about to get separated, but he still acts like we’re together.” She then begins talking to her husband on the phone, argues with him, and then…

VampireWitch: “What? You’re here? All right, I’ll come outside.” She then just leaves and to goes talk to her husband who is outside.

I lay there. I’m not really sure what I’m suppose to do in this situation. Do I wait? Do I go out there to see what’s going on? Do I just leave? I decide to just sit tight and wait.

Ten minutes. Fuck. She is not back yet. Maybe I should call her cell? No, if she is with him that would be suspicious. Fuck.

Twenty minutes. Fuck. I don’t know where the fuck I am. I should leave and call LittleBean to pick me up. I dial LittleBean and the phone goes straight to voicemail. Fuck.

Thirty minutes. Fuck. I have to piss. All the drinking has caught up to me. I have to find the bathroom in this house. My bladder is going to explode. Fuck.

I tip toe out the guest bedroom into the living room of the house. After much quiet stumbling around, I am able to find the bathroom and take a bladder emptying piss. I walk out of the bathroom and I realize, I have no idea where the guest bedroom is at. God fucking damn it. I begin walking around this huge house, trying not to make any noise. Seriously, picture this in your mind. I’m a 23 year old Mexican male, not wearing a t-shirt, reeking of booze and marijuana walking and stumbling around the house of some rich person in Newport Beach who has no idea I am there on Halloween. Yeah, how does that look like to you?

I see a swimming pool. I somehow convince myself that I must have passed a swimming pool on my way to the bathroom. I open the glass door and shut it behind me. I then realize that there was no way I passed a swimming pool. I attempt to go back in and the door won’t open. Fuck. I locked myself out. Southern California may not be Chicago or New York City, but it does get pretty cold at night in October.

I’m outside next to the swimming pool freezing my balls off for a good ten minutes. I walk around the backyard trying to figure out if I can just climb over the fence and break myself out of this house. I quickly realize there was no way to do it without making a shit ton of noise. I begin to pace back and forward trying to think of a plan and then as I looked into the house through the glass door I see a middle aged man. Oh well, here goes nothing. I tap on the glass.

He hears my tapping and looks me and is startled. Again, picture it in your mind, a 23 year old Mexican male with no t-shirt is tapping on the glass door of a mansion in Newport Beach on Halloween night at three in the morning. I’m lucky Californians are such pussies about guns. I wave at him and he walks away for a few minutes and comes back with his wife. She is holding on to a phone, probably ready to speed dial 911 and he has a baseball bat in his hand. He cracks open the glass door.

Man: “Can I help you?”

Raul: “Hey sir, I’m sorry, I was here with VampireWitch and she sort of just left me in the bedroom. I went out to take a piss and somehow ended up out here.” I said while shivering.

Man: “You were here with VampireWitch?”

Raul: “Yeah…”

Man: “Hold on a moment.”

I then hear him echo what I said to his wife. Then I hear the wife call up VampireWitch and asking her if she had some strange boy over the house. She then yells at VampireWitch for leaving me behind and bringing strangers into HER house. The Man comes back.

Man: “Your story checks out. But I don’t know who you are and you can’t stay here. You have to leave.”

Raul: “I don’t have a car right now. My friend dropped me off.”

Man: “God damn it.”

He shuts the door and comes back a few moments later with some blankets.

Man: “You can sleep here in the backyard. We’ll give you a ride home in the morning.” He hands me the blankets.

Raul: “Thank you.”

I then lay down on a lounge chair and wrap myself up in the blankets. I doze off into a very uncomfortable, shivering sleep. The bull shit a man goes through to get his dick wet.

~Raul Felix

I like reading about you failing with women. I want more: The Pick-Up Follies: Taqueria Hottie