“femoids; noculture ; I am man of culture”
Yeah, no. You could not recognize a real cultured person if they sneaked up on you and kicked you in the nuts, which they wouldn’t lower themselves to either, since we are talking a real culture, not your degenerate, channish nostalgia for the fifties(fuck knows why, it’s not like your types got any more laid back then).
You’re very eager to look into others panties, for a cultured man, you should be more eager to learn exactly what books is she reading and perhaps strike a conversation about one or two titles, which pick your fancy. Though, of course you’d need to read anything yourself, first. When I first met my husband, we weren’t interested in how many times each of us had sex before(that came up much, much later), we were interested in the books we’ve both read, movies we’ve watched, what were each other’s thoughts and all that joyful, almost frenzied exchange you tend to get, when two actual bookworms meet and click in a social manner.
You are not a man of culture, you are a degenerate who lusts after underage girls and propagates positively disgusting chokehold of males over everybody else, had you actually been a well read, cultured man, you would have known a priori, that the concept in itself is as absurd, as it is odious to any emphatic human being. Good day, sir!