Dubious is an understatement of Bongish proportions. And that's just it - I'm not a teenager anymore (physically, anyway...) so I don't pop a boner 'cause a stiff breeze blows across it. Any hole is not a goal. Bitches have their standards and disqualifiers, and so do I. Bare fucking minimum: not fat - and that's getting depressingly rare these days. I don't bring much to the table, I'll freely acknowledge, but I am not [yet] a disgusting lardarse (not a heightcel, either), and slampigs simply don't make my dick twitch. I'd rather go without, and stay single, and free, because I'd struggle to get it up anyway for a fucking blob. Speaking from shameful experience, btw - not saying I've never been desperate, or drunk. Oh, and stupidity is a massive turn-off too, and obesity signals retardation, afaic - and, let's face it, most people, nevermind foids, are morons.
In the other direction, I've fluked a few absolute smokeshows as well. The last ex... well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you (I still can't quite believe it myself), suffice to say she was as close to my personal unicorn as I could ever have imagined. I think she may've permanently ruined me for other wahmens, honestly.
I suppose there's a whitepill there, for my bros who are struggling; bitches aren't always entirely predictable, and they will sometimes make the most inexplicable choices in men. E: which takes us right back around to Guntboy, et al, I guess.