Although I’ll never say never when it comes to conversion to Christianity, particularly given my admiration for its legacy: in terms of likelihood, especially with an American Christian, it’s pretty low. Hopefully however, Artisanal Toad’s great work will trickle down to my level, eventually.
I’m still working on designing some sort of ideal situation for yours truly. Not planning to reveal it in a public forum, but the advice Toad provides is invaluable, in my view. Toad, I accept you as my second tier spiritual leader, for now. (Rupert Sheldrake is still top…dog…LOL). I may have to do a little mix-and-match in the spirituality department along the way in order to figure out where I am. It’s not going to be with “The Breeders” nor “The Carpenters”.
This sticks out for me in terms of Toad’s comment advice to a woman bent on challenging him:
I suggest you team up with a couple of girlfriends, get in shape and offer yourselves as a package deal. That’s probably the only way you’ll get the kind of man you really want and while you’re looking for him, you can take care of each other.
This advice represents an eternal dilemma for me, by the way. By that I mean that lots of women in my life have desired to attach themselves to me and have temporarily done so as a means of attracting men. I won’t say how many men there are in this world with “unbelievable” tales of two young hot women seducing and abandoning them for which I can take credit, only that it would seem that each one of the other women ended up worse for the wear as a result. Therefore, I stopped doing that, “married” in the modern civic sense rather than in the Biblical one that Toad describes so well, (and I live to regret that last every day).
I also gave up lesbianism as easily as a snake sheds a skin.
Perhaps it was my destiny to live in a situation about as close to The Garden of Eden as imaginable, complete with snakes, witches, and a window into Hades.
Some of those men who were gifted with a surreal unbelievable dual-female seduction, were also outright gifted with my protegee, only to discover that without me making up the triad, it went stale. At least two of my former protegees are now Lesbians, and at least one of my female mentors is. None of them have bothered to attempt to contact me directly and I’m not so hard to find.
Therefore, the notion that I would take on yet another female protegee in that regard offering something completely in opposition to the guaranteed outcome most women expect doesn’t square with my conscience. At least it won’t be an American woman. I’d do it with a European woman, maybe, and I’m not talking about some child of Third World refugees now bestowed the title, “European” for political reasons.
Besides, all that most women want from me is “beauty advice” which is like magic spells put into the wrong hands and something like “Fantasia” results with infinite brooms carrying buckets.
I’m not so hot but rather merely appear to defy certain age metrics which women notice and comment on hoping I’ll just spill all my tips as freely as a television talk show host and that those tips will be universally applicable to all phenotypes from all geographic origins. They’re not.
However, in order to avoid being captured yet again by yet another cult and then having to escape that cult yet again (a pattern in my life), I wonder if I should just give in and start my own cult a la Tina Turner and the Pig Wrangler in the uncut unedited version of Mad Max. The figurehead of any enterprise being the de facto leader of that enterprise is one of those illusions which just keeps right on giving sucking in all gullible wee little broken children who never grow up, or as I describe here.
I’m partial to “ugly” men, by the way, but they be “toads” rather than “frogs” in Toad’s parlance, and ideally cruel but not whiny; however that is not to say that I don’t enjoy a ride on “handsome” but only if I’m treated cruelly rather than with adoration; Jabba the Hut rather than Yoda. Darth Vader rather than Obi Wan Kenobi. I’m Hades’ errant bride rather than Zeus’, but that means that I get at least 6 months of top world life. Perhaps I belong in Tasmania.
Christians on the other hand, given my understanding of your religion, would probably rather see me stoned, burned, shelled, or shut up in a tower, fun house, or Milgram Experiment, but deep down know that my character exceeds the majority of theirs and so God isn’t likely to reward them for this project. Such a reward hasn’t happened yet…
Considering how well the Puritans did in terms of how the U.S. is doing today—welcome to Utopia folks, isn’t it grand?—then gynocentric grass-roots crone-o-cide might look like a viable utopian genesis to vampires, however, Vampires be Vampires.
Such is as it has always been.