Operation Finnish Princess. PART I

ON A QUEST FOR THE REAL LOVE- The KIWI GAL.

Sep 15, 2024

Pic above: Me in full partyrantspaz to the gals. A digital photo of a “real” photo. I was trying to embody Glen Danzig back then.

As a young man full of hopes and dreams, I wanted an amazing life partner.
Me and Her against the world! I romantically thought.
I was obsessed with the 80s and early 90s romantic movies and they had of course warped me badly.
Sixteen Candles, Some Kind of Wonderful, True Romance, Heathers, and others….
Watch them all in chronological sequence and message me your mental state.
Me and Her against the world!
I had tried to find this partner in New Zealand…
Now the following is what I found in NZ… and I consider myself quite the social scientist…
NZ DATING SCENE of the 90s: - a totally uneducated social scientist’s look.
BUT on lots of research. Intense personal quests into empirical evidence and the best test, romantic beat downs.
. . .
My first good beating was at a late 15 finally asking a girl out in my class.
She was a wonder.
Well above my league, looking back now.
A Blond beauty with boobs and ass and friendlyness and intelligence.
I always thought I could do anything and was the greatest so I made a romantic play!
Fail.
She informed me she had a boyfriend.
”Who? I know everyone in school!”
Oh, he’s not at school. He works…
I just reeled back…
Works… what the fuck? Like a grownup? I thought.
Standing with my slack mouth open… she sadly smiled at me and walked away.
I secretly spied on her. She was being picked up by some motorbike-riding leather jacket-wearing dude… probably 18 years old or so, with a mullet, who literally slapped her on the ass in greeting. She seemed very happy about this and got on with him and they roared off in helmet-less freedom.
To probably have sex in a field somewhere!
This destroyed me. But it burned into me what might be successful, and I made a mental note to grow my hair long and buy a leather jacket… I decided I would skip the ass slapping though, because I hoped to fancy myself as an intellectual ladies’ man.
Ok so moving forward in life I learned that in order to find a partner in New Zealand you must have something to offer that helps the woman SURVIVE!
The reason “something good to offer” is such a thing in New Zealand is because it’s cold and there is a resource scarcity. It’s a thin island way off on the edge of the map. Financially it’s a bit rough. I would say poor. People think NZ is a great country and it is of course, from all the pictures but it is actually quite poverty-stricken compared to many places.
Any country sucks if you're poor. Being 16-17 and having no money in a poor country trying to find a good woman sucked assssss.
We will never say NZ sucks, because we need your tourist money.
There is an actual branch of New Zealand that is dedicated to getting people to come and give us their money.
It’s called The New Zealand Tourism Board, and one class a week at school was called “Tourism” where we learned about other countries and cultures and basically how to treat tourists from these areas in order to maximize dolla dolla billz.
-
I was obsessed with American shows and movies.
Shows like Beverly Hills 90210 and movies where kids’ rooms were full of toys, and they would go and open full fridges and just grab out armfuls of food and cans of pop! These kids’ parents didn’t scream at them or do drunken insane shit either.
The kids had phones in the shape of footballs in their rooms and also TVs and video game systems. I mean just fuck right off. It killed me to see it but I couldn’t stop watching.
So the shows showed me that NZ was pretty poor, ( like one phone and one TV and one car ), and when I traveled … I found out that it was prety true.
I write this in South Africa so there are exceptions…
Two of our NZ fridges could fit into one of these big Yank fridges… and all ours ever contained was a quarter loaf of stale bread, a jar of vegemite, and the lower half was all dads beer.
So that’s the scene… feel the cold rain and hunger…
So back to the story of survival and getting ahead with a good woman.
The mindset was that if you hook up with a serious gal, you can both join forces with another three couples and rent a rundown freezing-cold four-bedroom house in the city.
You do the bills and food sharing the roster wheel on the fridge and the wine nights and the pot plants and the cats.
You grind your job for years and your save save save so you can get out of New Zealand get overseas and get the Auzzie or British or American real money and actually make enough to come back and buy a real place and eat real food and be a real person.
Well, I saw people pairing off and doing this major grind ladder climb undertaking.
Or even just giving it a go and coming apart like soft bread under the stress of it.
I saw the interview dates… where the guy had to show that he had a vehicle and a job and could buy dinner and maybe a gift and had his own place that she could move into… like some sort of nest-building peacocking bird thing.
“LOOK! I’ve made a nest for us to drink cheap booze and bang in, while we grind out the 50-hour weeks at our bank and landscaping jobs, to afford to go to Fiji for a week and bang and drink cheap booze where there is no freezing ice-filled sideways rain 7 months of the year.
The girl would subtly ask about income, and prospects for the future and the guy will play big daddy with gifts and bought dinners and small shopping trips.
There would be parent dinners and nods of approval and it would lock in.
Sometimes the gal would leave a guy for a better survival prospect… I’m sure this has been going on since caveman days.
But I truely witnessed the following:
I was out at a party with a bunch of friends. There was a couple there that was having a rough time. The guy had lost his job and had become angry and depressed.
Depression was a new thing back then that I think had come over from America in magazines.
It was a luxury. I daily wished for a time that I could be doing so well in life that I could get depressed.
When you are fighting for survival you don’t get depressed… you're just trying to survive.
But obviously, he was doing well enough at some point to become depressed and stopped wanting to go out to parties or find a good job, and his car was in the mechanics, and he had quit mountain biking and was going to sell his record collection and other depressed crybaby rubbish.
He complained about how rough his life was to us. We were floored. He had this great-looking gal that he could bang, he had a place to live and money and food. He was trained in something that paid good money, I think he was an accountant… and wasn’t just a monkey grunt laborer meat axe like us.
He went to the bathroom and both my friends made a frenzied play for his girlfriend.
This was totally within their rights per our twisted New Zealand survival code.
“Girl, Billys fucked! He’s gonna cap himself soon. You don’t wanna deal with that - let me tell you what I can offer. I have a big room in a nice bush rental with good mates, I have a good job at the plant nursery, and I’m going to be managing soon …” Said one.
“My parents have money and land and a holiday house and a boat that I can sail and I can take you out on it …Im working in my dad’s fencing company that I will own one day.” Said the other.
She listened attentively… thinking hard… weighing the options.
Her eyes flicked to me.
“Im funny, intelligent, and great in bed. I have spent many years as a wandering wastrel. I have a deep hatred of the establishment, and anything resembling the middle class or the rich. I’m a beatnik but no one here knows what that is, because no one reads.
I have an encyclopedic knowledge and a deep understanding of all boho literature from the 50s through to the 90s. I think I’m quite possibly Jim Morrison reincarnated, having a wee rest down in rainy New Zealand.
My brain is damaged from mind-altering drugs. Im not sure if anything is real and If you wind up with me you will certainly come to ruin. My motto is “Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion.
Tune in, freak out, get beaten.”
Well, I didn’t really say those things… but I of course didn’t need to… she could feel its essence humming out from my 1.21 Gigawatt auric field.
She broke up with Billy that night.
The next weekend she was on the boat with Jimmy, eating KFC.
Winner winner chicken dinner.
So that’s the NZ gal scene… but there is a dark outlier… that floats across to NZ on dark shrieking wings… to taunt and tempt … to break apart the system…of control and kiwi sexual matriarchy…
The Auzzie gal!
Lookout!
Part two coming.