This is a fantasy. You know this is a fantasy, and at the same time you are thinking, "well maybe I could . . ."
Not only is it a fantasy, it is a common fantasy. We all have our versions of this fantasy, and I can tell you mine, but before I do, it is important to say, unequivocally, that, if you aren't joking here, you are trying to convince yourself that this isn't a fantasy, that it is a plan.
But it's not. It is under no circumstances a plan. Who hasn't done this a million times in their life? Conjure up a pleasant fantasy, and then your hind brain or your unconscious or your reptilian memory (or your inner gremlin of the undestiny or whatever) goes to work on your conscious mind trying to overwhelm it with superficially rational arguments trying to convince it to believe something it knows is fantasy but doesn't want to be fantasy is not fantasy is actually a plan, and so the battle is on.
Homeless women are like maids in hotels, female hitchhikers, high school girls who swear they are eighteen, down syndrome girls who have amazing bodies, flirty first cousins, hot nieces by marriage, strippers (stripping just to pay for college), your older sister's predatory friend who happens, for the minute, to be at your house all alone except for (guess who) you, and any other of a million variations of women that have a tantalizing scenario automatically built in the minute you look at them. Pure, primal sex, and yet wrong too, the wrongness being a force multiplier of the primitiveness of it all.
The scenario built in to the homeless girl is the ease of access (just roll up and open your door), anonymity (she could be gone for good the next day), the hope of animalistic congress (well, she's there by the side of the road ain't she?). And finally, (and let's not underestimate this one) there is a tiny imbalance of power in your favor which, unlike the feminists screech, is not the norm.
For these sorts of scenario to work out, they have to remain in the realm of fantasy, because no matter how powerful the pull of the imagination, remember that this is what separates us from women, the ability to tell the difference between fantasy and reality, and this sort of thing almost never works out in real life, and deep down inside, even as we wish it weren't so, almost all of us know that.
Yeah, men watch Superman movies, just as women watch RomComs; the difference is men don't expect the movie experience delivered asap into their lives.
And that is why you have posted here, because you want to be reigned back in by cooler heads, and be told that this is a fantasy not a plan.
No matter how enticing a scenario is ushered unbidden and yet welcome into your mind, the facts are still the facts, and all the things you knew to be true before you got this extremely enjoyable speculative bug up your ass, so to speak, still hold.
You are still a man. She is still a woman. All the social rules as well as the laws and risks still apply. They are just getting hazy because you have got a hell of an erotic playlet going on in your head.
So let's go through a little of the stuff that is getting so hazy:
- There are way more programs and resources for homeless women than there are for men.
- She is standing on the side of the road in spite of this
- All the warnings in previous posts are still in effect.
- Women are generally better at manipulating than men are.
- She is female.
- You are male.
- Do you think being homeless has made her better or worse at manipulating?
- You want to take her where?
- Your house?
- This is a plan?
This is so much better as a fantasy. Let's leave it there. You can enjoy it and embellish it, and have way more fun than implementing.
Here is my version of it:
I see a lot of these crusty, homeless, young, tatted, dirty, dread-locked hot little bitches pass through my town. Sometimes with guys, and sometimes on their own. They fly signs or ask for money. Sometimes they flirt with you and they are good at it and you aren't sure if it is real or just a hustle. A lot of them have a pair of monsters in their skimpy shirts. Some of them are whatever the hell an "Earth Mother" is called before she has a kid.
Something about these girls just get me going. I don't like tattoos or piercings particularly, and yet these girls are all in. They have slender little bodies, ragged clothes, did I mention they are dirty? Just cruising downtown or through a park, sometimes dragging a dog, and there is something so primal about them that every now and then my mind unbidden starts spinning atmospheric scripts that have them ending up at my house screwing me like an attacking neanderthal.
We aren't talking about goths or model-faux versions. It has to be the genuine, post apocalyptic train hopping ones who probably smell like cigarettes and vodka. Part of the fantasy is that they are nothing like any woman I would ever let into my life.
Talking about girls who look like this:
Or this (on the right):
Or this (Sometimes it is better if they are further away.):
But it's not happening. Fun to think about though.
If I have spare change I will give it to men, mainly the older ones. These girls are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. They are living exactly the lives they want to live. And so am I.