I kept saying, “I’m not a butt girl.” as if I wasn’t good enough.
Gentleman don’t prefer blondes, they prefer butt girls.
Firstly, a butt girl MUST have an instagram account. A butt girl is a chick with a really hot body who has an instagram account that look just like every other gorgeous butt girl and yet you can’t look away. She has the thigh gap, tan skin, gorgeous other butt-girl friends, a perfect looking family, and all her photos consist of her butt, her model face, the beach, and her fabulous jet-set life. The thing is, although everyone already knows instagram profiles are curated and real life isn’t like the photos, you can’t help but want that butt girl’s fucking fabulous digital life. She’s got it all?
Don’t force the narrative. Just because she’s got a nice cheeky ass doesn’t mean she’s all that nice.
The secret no guy knows is that butt girls don’t really follow other butt girls, yet they follow each other’s formulas of butts, bikinis, fuzzy animals, and a profile headline stating that she’s a world traveler and humanitarian. Look at Dan Bilzarian’s main butt girl Sofia Bevarly. She literally follows everyone Dan follows and some vegan bullshit. He caught a rare gem.💎
Are you in?
TLG asked 20 TLG men and women “Does who someone follows reflect who they are as a person and what they’re interested in?”
20/20 texted YES, who you follow reflects who you are. 👁
I couldn’t stop trying to justify what I wasn’t.
“I’m not his type, I’m NOT a butt girl. He follows Dan Bilzerian!”
My girlfriends would brushoff that who a guy follows means nothing, but maybe that’s just want they want to believe. Everything has meaning. If a guy follows butt girls, then that’s got to be what he ultimately wants, right? Who you follow is a reflection of you. If I date a guy that follows butt girls and I’m not a butt girl, then what does that make me to him? It’s an unhealthy question, but an honest one. One could justify that I’m so much more, and that topic dates back to boys hiding playboy magazines under their beds (when magazines used to exist). But the thing is, we’re not talking about boys with boy fantasies, we’re talking about grown men and I want to get married someday one day once upon a time in the distant future whilst my eggs are still fresh.
The truth is, it’s not that I’m less of a woman, it’s that I AM so much more than a butt girl. I have a nice ass, this I know. Yes, I’d love to look as hot as a butt girl, but what would that say about me? How many photos did it take, how many minutes does a butt girl spend looking at her butt and putting a filter on it until she posted her ass for everyone to like? Her ass got likes, congrats. Call me cliche or jealous, because I’m both. Being a butt girl isn’t hard work to be and yet they get so much attention and call themselves public figures, yet here I am writing and creating and putting decent shit out into the world and have very little recognition, no one knows who I am, and I don’t have any assets to show for it. Sex does sell, but fuck, if I’m going to sell my sex then I’m going to make my sex different from a butt girl.
I started to think about what I’m NOT, but what I needed to do was not only think about what I AM, but what he’s NOT. Women get so strung up on a guy after the first couple dates, but why?
Why do women build a fantasy man like a fake instagram wall?
No one appears to be what they seem, and if you take note, butt girls look like everyone else. Do I want a guy that follows butt girls? Maybe he’s NOT all the great, so why do I keep putting myself down?
I have a ghost, I used to call him Monkey Man. Monkey Man was an extra ordinary human. I met him hanging upside down and he was selfless. Extra ordinary is an understatement. He never spoke about himself, but rather he would compliment and tell everyone else how great they were. When he’d introduce me to people he would transform me into a great, so great that I would believe it. “This is Mel. She is a surfer, she runs ten miles a day, she’s a warrior, and she is an artist that is writing books.” The truth was during that time, those were all things I wasn’t, but rather aspired to do. Though, I AM doing all those things now. He would introduce any ordinary person as if they were a legend, it wasn’t just me. A mutual friend once told me Monkey Man was secretly rich but chose to live with nothing. He was the incarnation of every great philosopher in one. He’s quoted Plato, Niche, and Socrates. His body was that of a greek god, a naked buff chiseled statue of a God. He lived in a small apartment with a hammock, a messy kitchen, one lamp, and books on the floor. I liked to think he was secretly rich and I don’t think I’ll ever know what or who he is.
Monkey Man and I would have late night dinners and talk on the phone for hours at 3am. We were friends for 7 years and I used to think of him as a teacher, my zen master, but now he’s nothing but a feeling; a ghost. For the record, he didn’t ghost me, I ghosted him.
During one of our deep space and time unravellings, we came to the topic of patterns, which lead to the topic of losing site of what is real.
Fact versus Fantasy.
It had become a pattern for me to chase men. I’ve always had issues with developing relationships past the third date, especially if I really like the guy. All the guys I’m not interested in chase me, but the ones I’m taken back by fizzle out before I have a chance to take a sip. They quickly became a stale can of LaCriox. Why? No one wants stale flavors.
Monkey Man once told me that if I can look at just the facts, I’ll have all the answers I seek when it comes to relationships. Women tend to fantasize, big time. Before a woman goes on a second date with a man, she has most likely not only stalked him via every social media account he’s ever obtained including his twelve-year-old Myspace account, but she’s already built up a story; a story that she knows nothing about.
If a young TLG and/or millennial woman doesn’t hear from a man she’s interested in after the first or second date, she’ll channel her inner Sherlock-ness and hawk eye every detail of his social media for the clues. Maybe he’s not interested? Maybe he’s dating someone? Oh he’s been out of town. I think he just got out of a relationship. Maybe he’s busy? Maybe he’s not into texting? All these maybe story building beats with no real facts will drive a girl into bitch be cray. Already she’s about to reach her climax, her psycho girl climax of pretending to play it cool but nothing feels fucking cool. Why doesn’t he like me?! Why the fuck haven’t I heard from him? Then she explodes and texts him something stupid and that energy vibrates to him thumbs and down to his dick and poof, she’s now ghosted.
Energy is real and thoughts become things. If you put out frantic weird girl energy toward a guy, know now, it’ll never work. If you say you are NOT something, then you won’t be, it’s as simple as that.
The real question is, why is she so interested and stuck on a guy after a few meetings and flirty banter? Is he really all that great? Women in their 30’s will instantly decide if he’s marriage material. Most young women will already decide if he’s a “good guy” or a douche or a total catch. What does it mean to be a catch anyways? Do you really want to catch someone so they can’t get loose? To catch someone is not like scoring an over-the-fence home run, it’s simply a trap.
Why do women start to build a story before the first chapter can be written? It’s only natural, as women instinctively seek a provider and protector, and let’s face it, if you’re in TLG, you’re already considered an old maid by your grandparents standards. Overnight men your age are wearing wedding rings and you have to look out for a ring as if it’s a forcefield.
Holy hell! He’s hot, my age, and he’s married! WTF am I doing with my life?
You still call yourself a girl and think men ten years older than you look like old men… and that’s because they are! You were like 10 when they were 20, ew! 😉
Monkey Man instructed, “Tell me the facts about this guy you can’t seem to shake off but barely know.”
I started with, “We had a unique connection.” He stopped me like a qi’ed out wax-on-wax off ninja master and said, “That’s not fact. You feel you had a connection. That’s a fact, but you don’t know if he felt the same way. Tell me the facts.”
“We went on one date.”
“Now that’s a fact.” said the zen Monkey. 🙉
“We went on one date. He surfs. He is passionate about what he does. We’re the same age. He lives at home with his wealthy parents. He follows “butt girls” on instagram. He didn’t want to sit outside. He seems like he’s got…”
“No seems. Don’t assume anything. Just tell me what you know,” said Monkey Man.
The more facts I stated about the guy, the less I liked him. He didn’t show much interest in me. He preferred to be stoned. He talked over me. He didn’t ask me anything about me. There was nothing that stood out other then the fantasy I built about him being this awesome dude, but I really didn’t know if he was awesome at all.
Monkey Man said, “Then why are you so worried about what happens next?”
The fact was, I wanted to like this guy, he was gorgeous and did everything I wanted to doing. He had traveled everywhere and was paving his own wild path, he came from a good family, and he wasn’t your average bro, he was passionate about some really cool stuff, but there was this unspeakable fact, it just wasn’t there. By that time, I had already pieced together every puzzle I could about this guy. He followed “butt girls” and Dan Bilzerian on instagram. He acted like he wasn’t attached to his phone, but his instagram was perfectly curated. The guy I liked was the guy I saw on instagram, his formula of the hang loose cool guy worked. I kept saying, “I’m not his type, I’m not a butt girl.”
The blunt brutal truth is, yes I’m probably not his type and he’s not mine either.
He was practically a butt girl, but a guy. Maybe I convinced myself I didn’t like him, but the fact is, I barely knew and know him and you never know where the universe takes you with time. Every moment and every person you meet is meant to happen. Sure I wish I got to know him better, but I’m also not wishing.
As Monkey Man and I kept talking about facts I learned that if I just looked at the facts of every guy I’ve ever chased, I would have saved myself so much energy, time, and mental sanity. Just because you have a nice time with someone doesn’t mean it’s the end-all-be-all and you have to start thinking if you want to marry someone. What happened to just taking something for what it is and enjoying the moment? Maybe he is busy. Maybe he is interested and maybe he isn’t, but
don’t force the narrative.
Don’t question your character and what you aren’t in this chapter because a complex character is the most memorable character. In Game of Thrones, butt girls get fucked and killed pretty fast, but girls that are no one and of many faces get top billed and remain in every season with multiple plot lines and become everyone’s favorite character.
Would you rather be?
The fact was, I met a guy once and the date was decent. I enjoyed his company, but we weren’t compatible, he just saw it right way. I tried to make up a story just to keep it going. Women make up stories and that’s where they get it wrong, it’s what scares guys off. It’s not just women, but there’s a reason calling a woman psycho has stood the test of time.
Write the facts. We’re consumers of fake news because they’re all fantasies and we love fantasies. Fantasies feed our demons and unconscious. The facts can be brutal, they can be boring AF, they can be not what you want to hear, but you might learn that it’s not, he’s not, even worthy of a story. Take what you want! Create that shit.👊🏾
So down to the question, to be or not to be a Butt Girl?
Fact: A butt girl is pretty and has pretty photos
Fantasy: A butt girl gets rich off her butt and is going to do big things with her life and people are doing to remember her name.
Fact: Shit comes out of butts!
Moral of the Story
It’s important to not try to be someone else. If someone makes you feel like you are NOT something, then they’re NOT meant to be in your life and you need to work on what YOU ARE.
“Butt girl” is a term made up here at TLG. I put my heart and soul and original words and thought into TLG in hopes someone will give me a shot, so please credit us or let us write for you if you are going to use it.
I’m so blessed to have readers. Recently so many people seem to think they know me because they read TLG. 🙏🏽 All I will say to this is, people change every day and the only person you truly will ever know, if you’re lucky, is yourself.
I am a girl with a big butt and I have taken one photo of my butt ever and it was for an non-sponsored advertisement for Justin’s Peanut Butter (guaranteed to get a bigger butt) and it is this photo below. I’m kinda proud of my butt in this photo, so maybe these butt girls are onto something. 🍑💁🏼🐶
Notes: Monkey Man is a ghost. He is someone of the past, someone I fantasized about being a legend. When I took his advice and looked at the facts, I saw a man who was stuck in a pattern, a man that quoted other great men but did nothing and had no quotes of his own other then telling people they were “Gold”, so I choose to hold on to the fantasy of him rather than the facts. I believe what he was was “fool’s gold.” He was a nice human with a good body who was positive and like a great first date, I appreciate the facts for what is was.
As always, I’m a hypocrite at the top of her game. 🍑🍑🍑
Get in now. We’ll send you a butt girl photo.