Let me declare in the opening of this article that at the time of writing this article I was a young man aged almost 23 years but have never had *** as a personal choice based upon my experience. My reasons for not getting laid till now are not many but just three reasons:
1. I am a guy who is a one woman man.
2. I believe that whatever may be my future wife's virginity status, I am not to loose it to anyone else but to herself.
3. I have analysed and found that for Indian men the best age to loose their virginity is not before 25 years of age and similarly for Indian women, the best age to loose it is not before they themselves are at least 23 years of age.

You all might already have labeled me various titles till now, but wait let me tell you the whole story and I would rather recommend you to be ready for trashing all your presumptions. It's all about self-control that this article is about. You can easily relax and lie back as you are going through my article.

I have a female friend from a big city in India who has been subjected to the raging problem of today's world. I'll be referring to her as Dhara, she was in the first year of her college life when she fell for a good looking rich guy and this guy, Sagar, was her classmate.

In the beginning of their relationship, they both were like the very much perfect 'made-for-each-other' couple like in stories. They both shared a golden relationship between each other and neither of them were aware that one day they will be made to separate away from each other.

The two of them seemed inseparable and one fine day Dhara even eloped with Sagar to start a new life with him. Sagar took her to a new home that he succeeded in procuring for them. It was a farmhouse away from the city. Dhara started following all the daily chores as an ideal housewife would. Both of them ceased attending the college and dedicated all their time to love making. Three months after having eloped, Dhara happily told Sagar that she was pregnant.

In the mean time, Sagar's father who is a powerful person in politics decided to make him marry a different girl for political benefits. And this way a problem arose from this fact that Sagar was told by his family that soon he would be married to a girl for political reasons. Along with this, both Sagar and his father were jailed in a political context. The trouble which had befallen was resolved by another powerful politician who bailed both the father-son duo out of the problem with a condition that Sagar married his daughter.

Sagar then told Dhara regarding the same problem at his home. Dhara straight away went to Sagar's home hoping to win hearts and showed them the Mangalsutram which Sagar had tied around her neck. The Mangalsutram turned out to be the same which Sagar's mother had found missing.

Dhara was accused of thievery and was put behind the bars for the same in the followup time. Sagar somehow succeeded in bailing Dhara out from behind the bars. Soon, Dhara was asked by Sagar to take some emergency contraceptive pills which halted her pregnancy in a period less than three months. Then Sagar ejected himself out from the unregistered marriage, resumed his regular college studies and ditched Dhara.

Here, both Dhara and Sagar were at fault according to me. Neither of them were at an age which could be considered marriageable, either medically or morally. Both had studies to undertake which they turned to for diverting their minds.

Dhara shared with her elder brother regarding the same event having taken place in her life. Then one fine day, I met Dhara at our university's Students' Activity Centre - SAC, where I had been to the University Food Orbit - UFO, and I started conversation with a group sitting there and we both got to know about each other and exchanged numbers at her insistence.

So much experience had made Dhara a wisecrack when it came to making friends. She accepts that it was her mistake that she took a rush of hormones to be love.

In addition to this Indian viewpoint over the subject, a Western viewpoint needs to be mentioned separately because of the biological differences between our bodies' biological observations and our differently made up societal liabilities and settlements.

The West has a superior physique for both men and women and professional services. So the ideal age to loose it dips by 2 years.

To end with the article, I would like to summarise the best age and conditions of loosing virginity globally with a special localisation to India:
1. Get married firstly and then loose it only to your life partner.
2. If you must still have the pleasures of love making before your marriage with the person you have your first *******, keep it safe and pleasant. Use a ****** or similar contraceptive if you must have *** before the ideal age but remember that these may fail as well, even if rarely.

Features, my reflection—
subtle hints stare back offering wordless reply,
their evidence a betrayal of age.
A wrinkle looking deeper,
mane of face, of head—hairs
fresh lacking pigment.

Vain attempts made to mend heart,
to sooth soul's dread.
Testimony of experience
of wisdom, persistence, perception,
an impotent contraceptive, the argument
aberrant.

Regret to cloud memory, my youth
seeming a flesh and blood cliche.
Tiny footnotes heavy with prose,
words in bold
to distract mind's eye—a demand of attention.
Edging out tomb's more beautiful weight
of love and heartache
of passion's attempt failing,
to try again, sinking before succeeding.
An era's dusk and dawn anew, life's advent
unpredictable—without cause changing.

Notion hanging lingering, poisoning future,
the venom of defeat an insidious invasion.
This new age creeping toward night
in this stage my life's sun less bright.
Maturity's introduced responsibility,
some enjoyable while others to own hostility.
A brigand mugging freedom—time for leisure.
Spurring combat for what remains of youth,
fingers wrapping air in futile seizure.

The inevitable to command subservience,
presuming ownership of life, though the mature
demonstrate the defiance of the immature.
Objects, activities, music assaulting ear,
their manner,
symbols of strict adherence to who once was—
a spiteful surrender refusal.

A piece of me defining me until no more,
years holding power—threatening
to change who I am at very core.
Canvas construction the colour of murre,
rubber toe caps the shade of pure.
Design worn since youth, dead and resurrected;
a million mile shoe of valorous resistance—insurrection,
a Converse rebellion.
In torment of age's scars,
I'll never be too old to wear my All Stars.

Handbag~ 1994
exam timetable
£5 from my Mum
shiny key for the front door
fresh-mint chewing gum

Handbag~ 1998
keys for work
keys for home
£20 and a bit of change
photo of my best mate
and a bloke that's twice my age
lipstick~ lacy knickers
condoms~ ID card
ticket for a bus to town
UV sparkly stars

Handbag~ 1999
keys for work
keys for home
spare key for his flat
condoms~ contraceptive pills
No.7 powder-ivory/matt
VISA/Delta debit card
paper
gel ink pens
number of a bloke
who says our love
will never end

Handbag~ 2000
keys for work
keys for home
key for the gas meter
Teletubbies picture book
list of baby-sitters
new mobile phone
herbal teething gel
lipstick~ Anadin
vanilla impulse body spray
children's Nurofen
photo of my baby boy
really tiny socks
under-eye concealer
secret stash of chocs

Handbag~ 2002
keys for work
keys for home
pull-back-and-go car
baby wipes
mobile phone
estate agents' cards
picture of my little boy
list of things to do
Boots own brand pregnancy test
both windows coloured blue

Handbag~ 2005
keys for home
card from work
tissue full of tears
photo of my boy in school
that shows his gappy teeth
photo of my baby girl
and one of both of them
a ring that used to be my Mum's
Pro-Plus~ Diazepam

Handbag~ 2009
keys for work
keys for home
one SLIM~FAST bar
one Cadbury's wrapper
Haribo~ Calpol~ tissues
assorted Disney plasters
treasured stones~ special shells
sand and bits of twig
money to buy ice creams
photos of my kids

What is love without affection?
Is it still love?
Or a similar feeling misleading the needy in the wrong direction. .
A common disease proclaimed infectious.
If so, let me know cause my heart needs a contraceptive.
What is love without affection?
Because if you love me then what's to question?

There's an elephant in this room, there's no denying that
No allegations, no assumptions
Just here to state the facts
I see all your dirt
And the **** you try to hide
But what I don't see is your respect
Did it die along with your pride?
And the love you say you posses
Or did it get erase along with all the traces of your text?
Yeah, you thought I didn't see all the lies that you succeeded in
And I played it blindly like I reside in Stevie's skin
And what really irritates my soul, is I could've played that role
The difference is I was investing in commitment
While you was the one auditioning
Now aint that bout a *****
Either resistance was too hard
Or even with a straight flush in your hand you were incompetent in playing your cards
February 22
Where were you that night?
I laid peacefully in my bed, eyes closed tightly, thanking God for sending me a wonderful man
Instead of being April's, I was playing your fool
Swimming foolishly and open in your deceitful pool
Drowning
in 12 feet
But I still wouldn't get out if I could
The irony.
Man, I swear your ******* be so good
I respect everyone's privacy
like there's a No Disturb sign on the door
But your cell phone has been ringing vigorously and that
I wont ignore
I gave you your space
You could've freely ran away if you wanted to explore
You give a person enough rope they'll hang themselves
And right now your toes are dangling 57' from the floor
I'd slave to bake your cake.
Let you eat it wholly.
And you still want more!
Selfish
I bet you didn't even think of me as she laid in your bed naked
or if when you slipped on that contraceptive
Emphasis on the IF just in case I stand corrected
The betrayal
The wonders living in my mind roams in a frenzy
In a million years I never suspected you
Faithful is what you pretended to be
And when I bring it unto your attention
You're worse than an evidently guilty man crying innocent
Obviously, you love to play with fire but when I deliver it you can't sustain
That's like constantly running to get an umbrella when you "claim" you love the rain
You can't handle the truth
BE A MAN
every moment its time to defy it you coil
Just face the aftermath with your ten toes planted on the soil
Because every word you deliver, every punch you throw
Will travel through this universe and manifest to your soul
You didn't like that huh?
Your emotions sings that you're ******
Storming out the door like a madman
But where's he going at a time like this?
To get some fresh air?
To **** another *****?
Men offer me pleasures that I happily resist
But now that the truth comes out he can't handle the ****
He wanna throw his hands up and be a little boy
Hell, I might as well go to K-Mart and buy his *** a toy
Or run to Priscilla's and get me one as well
**** being deceived, I'd rather indulge my own pleasure and be by myself
But the way he makes my legs shake
My heart flutter
My soul yearns for more
Makes me reconsider to stay
Did he do it ruthlessly?
Was it a mistake?
I'm all out of thoughts, I don't know *** to think
All this **** is unbearable
I'm going out for a drink...



                          Copy Right 2013
                                ©Patty Ann

What is love without affection?
Is it still love?
Or a similar feeling misleading the needy in the wrong direction. .
A common disease proclaimed infectious.
If so, let me know cause my heart needs a contraceptive.
What is love without affection?
Because if you love me then what's to question?

Leashed by loves lynch till I’m dropped by my lack of respect for the beauty’s presence
Thank god she wasn’t curbside taking tips with perked lips for a stranger’s ****** fix,
But I needed to feel the evidence that the pieces fit,
That’s why this is about me and a barstool princess

Getting close enough to taste the moans of *****’s venom
Get close enough so I can know my needs can be fulfilled

Like a lunar eclipse this species keeps grinding its teeth when teased
Time and time again we’ve been taunted by,
The mistress our ancestors once described as the serpent of Eve,  
When procreation was preached as an STD

Yet we’ve been perpetually pivoting,
To defy the chastity of a species

Grandfathered misconceptions relating to why you and I exist  
As wickedness warms in the covers of the lustfully parallel
So let’s drown in this bliss,

From head to toe, eye caught, grazes at the nose,
From the bar stool to a lonely man’s home,
From one dollar tips for two *** and cokes
To the bedroom of this writing,
The nights like this, that remind me I am alone

But this isn’t about me loathing the fact that I won’t hear her whispering for more body warmth,
Nor am I looking for you to pity me because I’ll be sleeping solo
Enough is enough since we are humans seeking ****** catacombs

I’ll try to be an adult about how the human molds but it started me at childhood,
When those that conceptualized love gave me this world,
And now I no longer have to listen to what I’ve been told

This is about how to perceive something we can never truly control,
Lucky enough to avoid a contraceptive despite unable to remember the doctor’s pull,
Its night’s like this I get to question,
When will my sheets meet the perfect fit?
When will this be more than just a humanizing fix?

I’ve got a lock and key, what you got? You got a door,
                                      a shrapnel embedded cupboard
      Curiously covered up that there is, do you want go out?
      No I got a boyfriend, but I do have a few contraceptives
Or I could show you my funny parts and we could plateau on the platonic
Abstinence is on par with networking
                           Oh shipwrecks of relationships, your waters never looked safe, your shoreline so rocky,
                      but your sail, if you see what I’m saying. ******* that wind a high-inducing pitch of a stank
                                                                          You took me to the foreign lands and never brought me back,
                                                                          a souvenir got emailed. Which I have just picked up, it’s actually           rather beautiful,
especially if we picked it out together
It is a bullet and that is rather cliché in the expectable in this sense of the world,
but the copper lining is exquisite, insert random bit about consumerism
                                     Then spin a bit around voyeurism, then mention the outcome of the movies,
                                                                                  the moving bits. The back & forth where it all starts
But like I said, you want a contraceptive? Or maybe just a sock? How about a **** addiction?
This really isn’t a discussion we should be having,
                              I don’t like arguing about these things and I’m a transvestite and rather think they don’t apply
                                                See the bit you said was babies and the bit I said was from the bible
Jesus and Black Moses, walking down the street
Preaching for the freaks
Then the bit you said was more like, I don’t know what I’m saying, I mumble and moan
And think about *** and college and loans and the bit that really stuck out was
  
                                   “Babies, they really just freak me out.”

Regrettably recording these words,
I’m not a poet or else this would probably flow,
Though I could care less if you don’t want to hear what I have to say

Because I’m comforted by a chance to reason the existence of a soul,
So I could care less if you don’t need to be told that, I’m human and oh so vulnerable
What more can I ask for?

Able to feel the consequence of lusting for something more,
I’m lucky enough to have escaped the 21st century womb,
And avoid the convenience of a couple cuddling with a contraceptive

Understanding that I might just get one chance to say,
I’ve wanted to make the most of my time
Since I’m physically deprived,
What more can we ask for?

Not sure what will happen when these lids seal eyes that were once bloodshot,
I’m so scared of what lies after a life,
My molecularly defected design,

So I must reconcile with the fact that,
My chance to survive without a heart and mind,
Depends on how I use this time,
As we look for the divine our intelligence derived,

Glad to possibly experience the consequence of stepping out of line,
So I could care less if you think I’m a detriment to society
Since I desire to exist beyond the confines of what can be physically defined,

Happy to discover that the divine was not stamped on the penny or the dime
I’m now comforted by the consequences of being materialistically maimed,
Because I didn't find spirituality through Sunday sips of wine

Almost six feet down and comforted by our unknowns,
Maybe you’ll remember me if you made sense of this,
Because I’ve been counting the days before I’ll realize,
If I made the most of my existence

When I was fifteen I listened to a religion teacher say
“Maybe” there should be a queer holocaust
and I pretended it didn’t hurt me,
the same way I pretended when she said
trans people mutilate their bodies by becoming who they are
when she misgendered Leelah Alcorn
when she called asexuals freaks of nature
when the other queer kid got sent to therapy
for having the audacity to even try to start a GSA
and suggesting that maybe everyone deserves to feel safe here
and my friends
think I’m overreacting
“It’s not a big deal!”
“Get over it!”
“Stop trying to be so special,
you should be expecting it at a Catholic school,
this is just what religion is like”
Is it?
Head down
Head down
Voices down,
you can get expelled for disagreeing with the archdiocese
Whisper in the hallway
about all the girls with pregnancy scares
who believed that
love
was the best contraceptive
Is that what Jose Gomez is teaching us?
No it doesn’t hurt
to watch my friends cry
about boys who yell “******”
down high school hallways
No it doesn’t hurt
when my friend asked me
“what would your kids even call you?”
No it doesn’t hurt
to be like this
Or at least
I can pretend it doesn’t

hunger my contraceptive

blood
my wristwatch

someone to boil
the mannequin’s
pacifier

The fact of the matter is that you
Choose to believe
There's no reprieve
From this constant, continual...
Consistent deceit
This contraceptive perception
Manifesting what you believe
'What happens once will come again'
From that there's no relief

That which you take heed from
Is imprinted on your skin
As if you can't reach within
For matters intimate
Second guessing and stressing
While vacantly sedated
Placating under false pretenses
-Keeping sated

-Faded
Like you were the product
Of this aftermath
Attacking the apt capability
Of all you lack
-Underhanded
In the most subtle approach
This perpetual cognizant apparition
Of these ghosts

Furthermore
They boast and beg recognition
Putting prescriptions to their name
Like defacing prepositions
Could well esteem their fame

I maintain that I refuse
To be a product of the masses
Drifting whimsically and making victims From my caprices

The end result of my fate
Never created hate
Only this conditioned position
From which I now must escape

I'd rather sit
Listen and contemplate
Than justify my shame
I'll take the pain
Of my twisted thoughts
Before letting them run astray

No one pray for me
Because I've done this once before
And sanction I will find
Within this mind
Before I hit the floor

Color, she dislike me
Absence, common thought
Grotesque, always
Rotting stench and dirt are friends

And in a new way I'm collapsing again, reciprocally
Forever
I'm passed that all though (though dem' thoughts always be wit' meh)
It's no more (though, still)

And now the keyboard takes over! HIT each STROKE with PASS-I-ON!
Now my fingers no longer belong to me! LINK finger and mind (without anything else)
Now my mind no longer is in existence! I'm one with these words! (quotation contraceptive)
Now truth is here to tell it's lies to destiny and me

End

These are my modern English translations of ancient Greek poems and epigrams by Sophocles, including antinatalist poems and epigrams.

It’s a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death’s eternal night!
Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Never to be born may be the biggest boon of all.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Oblivion: What a boon, to lie unbound by pain!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How happy the soul who speeds back to the Source,
but crowned with peace is the one who never came.
—a Sophoclean antinatalist passage from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The happiest life is one empty of thought.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Consider no man happy till he lies dead, free of pain at last.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What is worse than death? When death is desired but denied.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When a man endures nothing but endless miseries, what's the use of hanging on day after day, edging closer and closer toward death? Anyone who warms his heart with the false glow of flickering hope is a wretch! The noble man should live with honor and die with honor. That's all that can be said.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Children anchor their mothers to life.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How terrible, to see the truth when the truth brings only pain to the seer!
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wisdom outweighs all the world's wealth.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Fortune never favors the faint-hearted.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wait for evening to appreciate the day's splendor.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We need evening to appreciate the day's attractions.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Evening helps us appreciate the day's attractions.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since time dawned
only the dead have experienced peace;
life is snow burning in the sun.
—Nandai, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Sophocles, Greek, translation, translations, English, antinatalist, antinatalism, procreation, contraception, contraceptive, birth, born, death, life and death, day, eve, evening, night, fortune, wisdom, wealth, truth, pain, mother, mothers, mother and child, children

#antinatalist #antinatalism #Sophocles

The ginger Tom.
He started to wail.
As the winsome ***** willow swung on his tail.
The black lass became rather familiar.
Made friends with the witch who lived over the hill.
Gave moggy pal a sharp shot of contraceptive in her ***.
Didn't want familiar friend to become a mum.

Tom,
Well my dear friends,
Tom never wanted a wife.
Just be a player all of his life.

Thought all his queens were just trouble and strife.
He'd take what he could whenever chances arose.
The tom cat who wasn't wanting romance,
Just left an aroma wherever he went.
Perhaps all his queens need a peg on their nose!






By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Two opposing ideologies vie for attention. Dedicated supporters believe fervently in one, single vision. Ultimately, half a century of the old order is upturned. A new era dawns.

We’re talking about the Trump-Clinton stand-off and the UK’s “Brexit” - right?

Wrong! This is about fashion: how the people’s choice up-ended taste, timing and fame - and all of this before politics even began to mirror the same populist trends.

I see fashion’s polarisation as happening around two years ago. On one side was Balmain, where an in-your-face, brash-and-flash couture was heartily disapproved of by the fashion establishment. But the bold and **** style of Creative Director Olivier Rousteingwas adored by his A-list audience, led by Kim Kardashian, who embraced the glitter and glamour.

Let’s see this fashion movement as a precursor to Donald Trump’s up-turning of America’s presidential race, with his lewd comments, **** wife and rabble-rousing. To some, a Kardashian backside might seem as distasteful as a Trump rant. But millions love Kim’s look as much as they gave the thumbs-down to the Hillary Clinton trouser suit.

But something else - even more populist and unsettling - was going on in fashion.

Demna Gvasalia and his brother Guram, whose migration from Georgia in the former Soviet Union eventually led them to Paris, caused a different kind of shake-up: a “non-style” revolution they called “Vetements”, meaning “clothes”. Instead of fashion as we understand it, the defining pieces were resolutely plain: hoodies, puffer coats, and jeans, albeit meticulously worked.

In retrospect, this new brand, which also challenged the timing of shows and the distribution of the collections, can be seen as a fashion mirror-image of a world-wide people’s revolt, from Britain’s Brexit to Italy’s Beppe Grillo, whose day job is on stage as a clown.

The Vetements collective was launched in 2014, before global politics started heaving with change. But now that Demna has been made Creative Director of Balenciaga, whose founder Cristóbal was the epitome of grandeur, the graffiti is on the wall. An haute couture house has been taken over by an agent of street populism.

With people demanding to “see now, buy now” and brands as mighty as Burberry and Tommy Hilfiger responding to their cries, it seems like populism is winning. Not to mention the effect of Instagram, where Rousteing has 4.1 million followers to Trump’s 4.5.

But why be surprised by fashion as the harbinger of history? It has always been so.

In the early 1960s, Mary Quant ramped up her hemlines to start the rise of the “mini-skirt” - right before the contraceptive pill became available to all women. Twenty years on, in the 1980s designers celebrated in advance the shattering of the boardroom’s glass ceiling by swapping Flower Child dresses for mighty padded shoulders on female trouser suits.

Reeling back through history, Marie Antoinette threw off rigid, royal clothes, replaced in 1783 by portraits of her dressed with Rococo sweetness - six years before the French monarchy was overthrown.

Other theories, pooh-poohed by financial experts, have the rise and fall of hemlines linked to the ups and downs of Wall Street.

So is there a traceable link between fashion and politics? In this new millennium, the designers themselves are now bitterly divided. Playing fashion feminist - like Clinton to Trump or “Remain” to “Leave” - are key houses such as Valentino, presenting powerful, cover-up clothes with long sleeves and hemlines.

Significantly, when Maria Grazia Chiuri, one half of the long-term Valentino duo, left for Dior, she brought to that august house a T-shirt printed with the words: “We Should All Be Feminists”.

On the other side are an increasing number of hyper-flashy, sexist brands, such as Victoria’s Secret and its rowdy, revealing lingerie spectaculars or the loud looks of German designer Phillipp Plein and his display of rhinestone-cowboy decorated denim.

Two ideologies and two audiences competing for the triumph of one belief. Sounds familiar? Fashion and politics: it’s all one.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane