How time ruins a woman

Story time: you’ve all heard of Coyote Ugly, the bar in New York City? Many of you who are above 25 remember there was movie about it, which, unfortunately, turned out to be a beta-male-chick-flick as opposed to the semi-porno it should have been. Such a waste…

Anyway, I live in NYC, and have frequented the bar many times over the last 10 years or so. And this is the sad story.

You see, there’s a redheaded bartender who’s worked there since I started going. We’ve chatted a few times over the years, but nothing more–she wouldn’t know me from Adam if I walked by on the street, and she’s never asked my name. Nor have I ever known hers.

Now, we’re about the same age. I started going around age 22.

Back then, I couldn’t buy a date. A beta at heart, I marveled at the hot women at Coyote Ugly (hot in a roadhouse skank way) shaking their asses all over the place. The redhead, at the time, was in her physical prime. While not the best looking, her body was banging: slim, curvy, and elastic. She gave off that crazy-fuck vibe like something else. Danced like a motherfucker, looked like a poor man’s angel.

Now I know she was a skank, because each time I moseyed in, I saw a new guy with her. He’d sit down the end of the bar, bored, but occasionally, when no one was looking, she’d give him a kiss. In my early-to-mid 20’s, sad to say, I closed out bars way too often, and yet still went home alone to punch the clown. And the redhead would, monthly, be leaving with a new dude to get fucked by.

As I grew, matured, and, most importantly, developed game, I actually started to have success with women, and places like Coyote Ugly and strip clubs became distant memories for me, only to be visited for nostalgia, boredom, or shits-and-giggles when buddies are in town. I can pick up a hotter woman now much easier than spending $60-$100 to watch a whorish chick be a cocktease to me and feed me bullshit. This is what game does—changes your perspective on everything, makes you disdain what you once would have given an arm for.

Those times I did roll into Coyote Ugly, the redhead would invariably be around. I found out from a bouncer she eventually became the bar manager, hence her hanging around even if not working behind the bar. But her look changed, too.

Years of hard drinking (Coyote girls often drink with the guys, although they invariably will get you to drink way more than them to push up your bill) and smoking outside gave her deposits of fat on her once-pristine body. Years of having a new cock every night left her face haggard, old, and tired, even when she faked a smile. Years of bad food from late night shit shops left her unable to speedplow through dance routines on the bar she once cut like a young farmer in summer. Years of screaming to the bar to “make some noise” and one too many bummed nicotine sticks left her voice low, deep, and gravelly—like the welfare queens you might hear on COPS.

She knew it, too. When she began, she dressed in a bikini top and short, short shorts almost every time I saw her (or ass-tight leather pants). Then, as she withered, she dressed more conservatively (at least for a wannabe roadhouse bar)—longer shorts and looser pants, to the point her tops were more “Jersey Girl out in the 1980’s” than Coyote Ugly. She took to wearing a short sleeve button down when going out for a smoke and then “forgetting” to take it off behind the bar. She wasn’t in denial—just trying to hide Father Time’s and Mother Bad Decision’s abusive marks.

I went in there the other night for the first time in a year, with a 25 year old hottie I’m banging.. And saw the redhead. Now past 30, her face is permanently jowly from the screaming, nicotine, fatty food, and cocks. She’s well on her way to obesity, and doesn’t even bartend any more, even as a fill in—just a manager. Her once strawberry red hair, which was light and airy, is now stringy, greasy, and worn from one too many guys yanking on it. She even has stretch marks—apparently, she had a kid.

When I walked in with hottie, she was sitting at the edge of the bar, encouraging the new girls to act as she did once, when spring was in her step. She looked up at me and her eyes flickered two painful emotions: recognition and shame. She was shamed by me, a man who once probably openly salivated at her but was too shy to do anything about it, standing there, now confident, brazen, and cocksure, arm around the waist of a girl ten times hotter than her—and also knowing that I remembered her when she could stop a clock. Now, the only thing that stops for her is a bus.

10 Responses to “How time ruins a woman”

  1. Achmed the first dead terrorist. Says:

    Dude

    this is a stupid story.

  2. Bartholomeu Says:

    Instead of spending time with any of these skanks seek intelectual, religious and other pursuits. Stop satisfying your carnal desires and have a traditional family. Also since the courts are full of liberal laws don’t EVER get married in one. Just get a marriage paper certificate from a Church that you and her are married and get it done with.

  3. Nummm Says:

    Im pretty sure most churches would want you to get the legal paper work done as well. Also, cohabitation for a certain length (just how long varies) counts as a common law marriage in most places in the west. So you are giving very bad advice, he will be in the same situation as if he got married.

    Major props to the author for not gloating about how much better off he is than her.

  4. Flavia Says:

    Cautionary tale. Don’t be a bar whore. Or is it “Don’t get old.”

    Your use of the word whore is very funny. I don’t know why.

    Whorefinder.

    Heh.

  5. Cannon's Canon Says:

    Sweet writing brah, realtalk

  6. Rob Halford Says:

    Stupid Niggerwhore,

    Look what my bandmate K.K. Downing said about you! Are you going to let him get away with that? Don’t be a bitch nigga!

  7. Michel Says:

    You need to post more.

  8. rmaxGenActivePUA Says:

    Amazing post, should be stickied

    Probably one of the best hit the wall piece’s I’ve read …

  9. Taylor Says:

    What a sad human being you are. The only thing she ever did was ignore and rightfully so.

    • whorefinder Says:

      Sigh. None of this post; just wistful and sad a the cruel tricks time plays on women. Trust me, if I could snap my fingers and make her the 21 year old I met way back when, I would, happily, and game her.

      She never did anything mean to me, nor I to her. I just noticed.

      I think that’s what most people are angry about with this post: I noticed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: