Correspondence Hall of Shame, 2/5
First CHoS of 2021, and it’s a special one. Most often I do a collection of these, but every now and then, I get a single one that is so outrageous, it merits its own column. Today’s entry is one of those.
To refresh your memories, one of my peeviest peeves is The Form Letter. You know the kind I mean; the ones that are so clearly sent to multiple women, probably at random, just to see if anyone takes the bait. They’re overly long, way too detailed, and completely impersonal. Usually what the guy is talking about has nothing to do with what I seek.
Last week, I got one of those. As far as the writing goes, aside from a few typos, it’s not the usual misspelled gobbledy-gook. But wait till you read it. It’s mind-boggling.
I only contact the slave that I am seriously interested in. And I am very, very interested in you.
I am exceptional, direct, and decisive. I used to be good enough and never take a position. Now, in life and everywhere, I dwell in the ultimate. Private homes, yachts, aircraft, vacations, parties are the fruit of the exceptional. And as the exceptional does, I am always on great adventures that is only made possible by living life with NO Limits.
By definition the ultimate has No Limits. Limits are for the masses and fake masters, not the Masters of the Universe.
By the way, speaking of limits, those with planes and yachts live in the entire world with no limits, hence living life to the fullest, while those without live in their box (apartment) and waste their lives. Yes, having multiple homes “going home” and “safer at home” means travel and freedom. And yes, yachts and planes are homes.
You want a master with No Limits. And a master with no limits with life, must have no limits with you. A slave must be a Master’s great possession.
I seek my permanent slave to match. Sexually, physically, domestically, loyalty, and to sacrifice all unconditionally and with 100% NO Limits. TPE Total Power Exchange and Total Slavery.
Most slaves, even before 2020, waste their lives. Live a rut, partial existence in a coma. Most masters as fake. Most Masters truly are not the master of even their own lives. Screaming masters at night and employee slaves by day, weighing limited options caused by limited finances and limited time that persists through their lives enslaving them, directly due to their lack of vision of abundance and life of No Limits. And now, with closures and the online future here, most masters are “masters” of their apartment, not their balcony, as long as they are quiet as a mouse, follow the government, apartment complex, noise and behavior rules. Yes, they are masters of the universe in the hallucinations of their mind, as they age away in their monthly rented apartment box. OMG.
Issues, age, looks, absolutely takes a back seat to attitude and 100% unlimited unconditional loyalty and self-sacrifice. With the right attitude anything can be overcome and I always overcome everything.
I am driven to live the Ultimate Life. The ultimate of anything is Unlimited with No Limits. Only an idiot would consciously choose a wasted rut life in a coma as most do.
1) Read my profile
2) Look over my albums and pics
3) Tell me if you have the right attitude
4) What is your name and cell # to talk to move forward?
Well, first, because I’m a non-paying member, I can’t read his damn profile, nor can I look at his pictures. However, I can see how many he has. Most guys on Alt, if they have a picture at all, have one or two, maybe three. At the most, a half dozen. This guy has twenty-four.
Second… Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Really? Am I supposed to believe this is real? Is any woman out there stupid enough to buy any of this?
I get fantasy, truly I do. But reality is always firmly in the picture. Real life has limits. Life has responsibilities. So, I’m seeing one of two scenarios here. Either this guy is a rich trust fund baby who’s never had to work a day in his life and thinks he can buy someone, or he actually lives in one of those “boxes” he bangs on and on about and he’s completely full of it.
Every time I reread this thing, I notice something else. My favorite part? The last sentence: “What is your name?” There it is, solid proof that he doesn’t bother reading profiles, that he just sends this out at random. My name is right there; it is my profile name. Crystal clear.
How sad to go through life so completely pickled in contempt for mere mortals and how we live. Can you imagine how someone with this level of arrogance and superiority would actually treat a woman?
I almost never answer any of these, as you know. But this time, I couldn’t resist. So I send back one word. “Seriously???” And attached this picture.
I didn’t expect to get an answer. But two days later, he replied. “Yes, seriously. 100%”
Wow. Okay. I’m done. Carry on, Your Majesty. And good luck to you.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit here in my coma until tomorrow, when I go to visit my boring and mundane beloved who owns only two residences, no planes, no yachts. I can live with that, though. I get seasick. And overinflated egos tend to nauseate me as well.
Have a good weekend, y’all. Be safe.