When I see people out and about, one of the mental games I play is inventing a little backstory for them.

You know those weird people that would hang out with a friend and comment on everyone walking by while waiting on a movie or something? Yes I'm one of those assholes.

Now I more just look at married simps looking depressed and arguing with a bitchy wife.

On rare occasions a beautiful woman will walk by, and I feel sad for her.

I mean, after I've analyzed her tits and ass and gone through 400 sex positions in 10 milliseconds, because deep down I'm a degenerate pervert. I know none of you are this way.

The reason I feel bad for them, is that they are in this tiny bubble of existence in their lives. Everything prior to this moment was being an awkward gangly teen girl, and in the future they'll be slathering on makeup and push up bras trying to recapture this exquisite little moment in their life, which will be a dragon she'll be chasing for a long time.

This is her moment of power, the best she'll ever be this way. Oh sure, I know she'll be a successful race car driver or astronaut or whatever she's into, but no one will really care. Being "the first female " will still only be second place. And it always will be. Men do the dangerous stuff first, then the women come in to be the next ones. There's no ticker tape parade in Manhattan for the first female anything. Maybe a CNN headline.

But she'll be chasing this moment, she's having that fun.

I think about her life.

Being a child.

Being in school.

Did she get attention? Was she one of those born pretty girls or one of those ugly girls that through some force of biology grows into her looks?

She starts off her teen years once her boobs come in, with attention, which then continues at an accelerated rate.

But she hasn't really become herself yet.

She's still reacting, learning, trying to understand. Maybe she pops her cherry, maybe light dating, maybe she embraces full whore mode and is selling underage nudes to creepy old men.

But she doesn't really know it yet. She may monetize it, she may exploit boys for it, but she doesn't really have it yet.

Then one day she finds herself, maybe has some life goals, something affirming, something not just being the chick with big tits and a tight ass who the boys fawn over.

There's this brief moment in time where her SMV and her FMV (Fecundity Market Value) cross at their peak. She looks healthy, feels healthy, doesn't make noises getting out of a chair and feeling her knees, the future is all an ephemeral fantasy of her choosing. It's the fabulous time of youth when everything is on a silver platter.

And FMV is what really matters. A woman's SMV is just the pre- and post- FMV force multipliers, exactly the same as a man's FMV (Financial Market Value) which is his SMV extensions.

FMV is what everyone is actually talking about when they say SMV. It just gives a wider beam to them. Fuck ability, and breed ability, are not the same thing.

But for this brief, shining moment, she's beautiful, she is at peak breeding, she's at peak objectification and sexualization by creepy assholes like me, she has her whole future ahead of her, career plans, life, who knows what the future will be?

But I'm a cynical student of history and master of nothing, and I'm pretty sure her life will progress like everyone else's. She'll have this peak moment, then she'll chase it with makeup a bit more, her thigh gap will disappear, she'll tread water with body shaping underthings, and one day it'll all crash down. No particular year, maybe a certain fat percentage, maybe her nose continues to grow from cute and perky to a ski run, her ears may jut out more than is acceptable? But it will occur. And it occurs extremely fast. You notice it in the mirror, you notice it when you go from 20 to 0 texts from boys within 90 days. Conversations are no longer flirtatious. Those catcalls you got, start never being got.

But it crashes, it always does. Fecundity markers are precisely that. It doesn't matter what medical science can accomplish, because her personal power is gone once the markers are gone.

She has a brief flash, like when you clamp some plutonium and tungsten together, where she has power and is like, super critical and stuff.

But it's not self-sustaining, like a plutonium core and a tamper.

For another half century she'll chase this moment in time, until she basically gives up. And during this window, she has to make so many conflicting decisions. Do I focus on career? Marriage? Family? Being a Dubai port-a-potty?

It's a very narrow window. On each side she's faking getting to this point, or attempting to perpetuate it. Trillions of dollars are spent attempting to do that.

SMV is fine, I know 40 year old women that make my hot dog fill the bun, but that's not FMV, that's SMV. Most men will write a check against a good FMV, but just pretty much just use the SMV. Your SMV will get you some McNuggets after sex. Your SMV will get you the world.

My FMV will live on in perpetuity. Wealth solves problems. Despite what commies say, money can buy happiness, or at least rent it awhile. Because happiness is a temporary state and it's for sale. I can travel to Disney World tomorrow and ride Space Mountain for a moment of happiness, and it's because of money.

But beautiful girls, can't do that. FMV is not something you can buy. SMV you can, but you're just faking FMV, it's just faking those fecundity markers with makeup and body shaping devices, forever chasing that dragon of your youth. You can get fucked, but you can't always get someone who wants to stick around for the long haul. A woman I enjoy and I discuss this. She can't find a relationship to fit her needs and she's extremely realistic and will bend the knee. But no one is willing to finance that any more.

I may be a sexually perverted horror of a man, but I feel bad for that shining moment of beauty when I see a girl at her peak. It isn't what she is now, it's what she'll never be again.