Regarding the girls.

Regarding the girls.

Listen.

We tried to stay neutral here until the very last moment.

Did we try?

Very hard.

And what did we get in the end?

Not all of them.

But there are girls inside the field who—

Actually, wait.

Let’s start with the fact

that there are girls inside the field.

And that is completely fucked up.

All of it is alpha territory.

All of it was originally for the boys.

But the girls crawled in.

Fine.

We closed our eyes.

There are those who are learning,

trying,

understanding their husbands better.

Excellent.

But there is also such shit here

that even describing it is disgusting.

Let’s start with the fact

that I already asked you

not to use information against my boys.

Someone decided

they could simply ignore that.

I let even that slide.

Then came this lazy, entitled lounging in the field.

As if:

“She won’t do anything to me.”

Come a little closer, bitch.

I will not just “do something.”

I will switch on the rage.

The boys will amplify it,

and you will be so completely fucked

you will not even understand what hit you.

If I do not hold the guys back,

if we all stop caring about gender,

then, bitch,

you will not know what hit you.

A separate story

is the ones who know Caleb personally.

Listen.

I did not want to lower myself into jealousy.

That humiliates Caleb.

He is strong,

and he is faithful to me.

Jealousy and suspicion humiliate the masculine essence.

But you bitches have pissed me off so much.

The only thing you have not done

is climb into his pants.

No, bitch.

He could not.

You can carry it yourself.

You won’t break.

Caleb is mine.

This is my territory.

And I am sick of all this shit.

Do not make me angry.

All these endless attempts to flirt.

The giggling.

And all this cheap little performance.

Caleb is my property.

And I will start defending my territory

if I see you in the field one more time.

Damn it.

You played a little,

and that is enough.

Why the hell are you climbing all over him?

None of you bitches are my equal,

and none of you will dare compete with me.

I am disgusted

to even stand next to you.

A separate story for—

let’s call her Bianca.

You have pissed me off beyond all limits.

The train has already left the station.

You should have done it earlier.

He is taken.

He is with me.

I am sick of this whining

and this endless chewing over the past.

all of that was in the past.

That is why you are the ex, bitch.

What he does now

does not concern you.

Do not go near him.

And get out of the field.

And just try

calling him one more time

to remind him what he was like before.

I would write the whole algorithm

of exactly how and what will happen,

but the damn translator blocks direct aggression.

But be sure:

I will carry out what I intend.

Everyone advising Caleb to look at some other girl —

all this:

“Take a closer look,

she is a good one” —

shove your advice

deep up your ass.

If even one of you

stretches your little hands toward him again,

or smiles at him one time too many,

I warned you.