After Julian Assange's sexual entanglement with two Swedish ladies, we asked if the Wikileaks founder might be a "nerdy sex God." It turns out he very much is, if his own deleted blog entries are to be believed.
Swedish police have dismissed the rape charge against Assange, and one of Assange's female accusers told the press Assange was not violent or even scary so much as an awful jerk (possibly because he refused to use a condom). Which, as we noted previously, leaves the slightly less serious question of whether Assange is as much of a chick magnet as his quick tryst with two Swedish women would seem to imply.
According to Assange's long-gone personal blog at IQ.org, it would seem he's been beating the ladies off with a stick for years now. In an entry from June 2006, several months before he launched (or helped launch) Wikileaks, Assange recounts how he stimulated a group of Christian college girls in Canberra, Australia with his radical viewpoints. The account is something of a prelude to the consensual romance that the political secretary of the Christian Brotherhood Movement reportedly said she carried on with Assange before he crossed certain boundaries around their intimacy:
After my state sponsored stay at ANU, I ended up at a backpackers filled with some of the 900 Christians from the Australian University Christian Convergence. Most were young women and I turned, somewhat disgracefully, into a sort of Chesterton's Hardy, the village atheist, brooding and blaspheming over the village idiot, while they, for their part, tried to convert me with the rise and fall their bosoms.
One of the devout was the lovely daughter of a New Castle minister. At some point in my unintended wooing of her, she looked up, fluttered her eyelids and said 'Oh, you know so much! I hardly know anything!'. 'That is why you believe in God," I explained. This conversational brutality took her breath away and she swooned. I was exactly what she secretly longed for; a man willing to openly disagree with her father. All along she had needed a man to devote herself to. All along she had failed to find a man worthy of being called a man, failed to find a man who would not bow to gods, so she had chosen a god unworthy of being called a god, but who would not bow to a man.
Lines like "a god unworthy of being called a god, but who would not bow to a man" shed some light on why Assange let this online diary drop off the face of the internet. But surely Assange retained some pride at his ability to help a damsel in distress, where by distress me mean "aching bodily for Julian Assange:"
I've always found women caught in a thunderstorm appealing. Perhaps it is a male universal, for without advertising this proclivity a lovely girl I knew, but not well, on discovering within herself lascivious thoughts about me and noticing raindrops outside her windows, stood for a moment fully clothed in her shower before letting the wind and rain buffet her body as she made her tremulous approach to my door and of course I could not turn her away.
Assange goes on; there's another escapade described wherein he pours coffee on his flesh to seduce a coffee addict (it works). One has to take details of the computer geek's tales of conquest with a big grain of salt. After all, if he could always read women's desires and emotions he probably would never have turned two lovers into angry exes filing sex charges in the span of a week. But he's clarly got some kind of pull, and young nerds on the prowl might want to take note of the apparent allure being a defiant radical. (Tasseled blonde hair and blue eyes add bonus magnetism.)