Game is, above all, about options. It is a toolkit and a psychological mindset that increases the number and quality of women available to you, and strengthens the attachment that women feel toward you. For the keepers of the societal cog assembly line, this is very bad news indeed, because men with options are men willing and able to put off or even entirely forego marriage and kids.
Options = Instability
For the typical man, game is probably the most powerful weapon in his arsenal of seduction that he has at his disposal. Few lifestyle changes can expand the pool of available and willing women as definitively as a concerted effort to learn game. A sudden infusion of wealth or fame, or a miracle of plastic surgery for the uglier men, would have a greater immediate impact than game, but for most men most of the time for whom fame and wealth are out of reach or would require decades of hard work to achieve, nothing gives a bigger bang for the bang than game.
This increase in sexual market leverage does come with a cost, depending on your philosophical view of the inherent tension between individual aggrandizement and societal well-being. As new vistas of poon open wide to the man who accepts the carnal word of game into his life, the context for the choices he makes and the big stages of life he is expected — worse, obligated and duty-bound according to some whiny women — to navigate are irrevocably altered. He no longer feels the pressure to accede to custom, to accept his lot like a good provider beta gear in the machine, or to join the herd of those corralled in claustrophobic pens of restricted options.
Such a man who possesses facility with attracting the opposite sex subconsciously regards his girlfriend (or girlfriends) with a utilitarian eye. He knows that should something go wrong, should she grow — heaven forfend! — bored with him, or he with her, he can find a replacement woman of equal or better quality with a few weeks effort. This self-awareness of his options, based in the reality of his experience, colors every choice he makes. And, more importantly, it instills in him a discreet take-it-or-leave-it demeanor that is unmistakeable, and unmistakably alluring, to women. It is the attitude of sex panther.
The man with options often decides, with justification, to say fuck it to marriage and all that soul-sucking suburban indentured servitude. Thus, knowledge of game and the larger selection of women it offers to the practitioner play a substantial role in the direction his life takes.
Reader Rum comments:
Getting a good grasp of game DOES disrupt the (supposedly) normal progression of life events. Indeed, it makes it dramatically more likely that you at 47 will get lascivious attention from “in-appropriately young” women. But, the thing is, with ordinary luck, you will be getting the same kind of vibes from that same chicks mother. (Its weird the way they smell the same).
So you will have to make a definite choice. Choose without thinking too much. Then pretend the mom thing never really happened. It might work.
This is no doubt true, as any man who has reaped the benefits of game will tell you. The socially-approved timetable of life stages is simply wiped clean, conventional expectations are brought to heel, and the horizon of choice pussy extends along every compass point.
The normal, 21st century progression of life events for the average beta bear who knows nothing of game looks like this:
- hit puberty
– masturbate for ten years
– attend sex ratio-skewed college full of slutty women and get lucky once or twice, despite social awkwardness
– enlist in cubicle farm, ogle sexy co-workers at sexual harassment seminar
– manage to land a 4 or 5 girlfriend through drunken social circle
– date her for two years until she dumps him
– drown sorrows for one full year torturing self with repeated viewings of ex’s Facebook relationship status updates, (“Currently in a harem!”), including make-out pics with new biker boyfriend
– meet an “amazing” 5.5 chubby girl with “more to love”
– propose 1.2 years later
– get married, have kids
– watch as his soul drains away from enforced monogamy and ingrate spawn
– surprise divorcebuttsecks!
– pay half for the lingerie ex-wife buys to titillate her new succession of fly-by-night lovers
– contemplate killing self
– work self to bone for a corporate behemoth’s bottom line
– after ten years being single and paying alimony, meet a 45 year old divorcée lawyer with saggy tits and flat ass
– “court” her, or a reasonable facsimile thereof
– suffer the indignity of pretending to enjoy kissing her as her hot daughter traipses around the house in short shorts
– live out waning days accompanying hag second wife to arts and crafts boutiques
– get sent to nursing home by “compassionate” children for sweet deliverance from the prison of wrecked flesh that holds the last vestige of his faintly man-like soul
Ok, now here’s the 21st century progression of life events for the man who knows game and uses it to successfully meet women:
- hit puberty. If a born natural, begin fucking “underage” (it’s all relative) high school girls. If not a born natural, learn from naturals, mimic them, and discover the crimson arts
– have a sweet sixteen girlfriend (or two) he will never forget, and who he will always compare, usually favorably, to future lovers, to keep those future lovers off any pedestals he may be inspired to erect in their names
– fuck like a rabbit in college if early start. Otherwise, fuck like a rabbit for the next twenty years after college
– somewhere along that timeline, meet a great girl who he rationally tells himself would make a good wife
– reminds himself that marriage is an irrational choice. Then reminds himself that he loves flirting with the cashier at the supermarket, and he marvels how easy it would be to snag her number
– laughs to himself at thought of proposing. (“Bended knee, my ass!”)
– good girl dumps him for wasting her prime years. In his sorrow, he responds by traveling and banging a couple of international hotties
– his divorced and financially raped male friends glom onto him. His harried married male friends secretly envy him
– work is just another word for lifestyle enabler
– spend waning years dating relatively younger and younger women, watching the age gap widen and his married chump friends waking up to the realization that they are shackled by law to wrinkly old bags
– society hates him. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t give a shit
– die post-coitus from a heart attack. Leave the world alone to enter a void of nothingness, no different than all those married schlubs who toiled for years to nurture and raise a legacy of strippers and delinquents
Oh, yeah, there is one question I have. I understand the Chateau has been mentioned as an outpost of loathsome, bowel-shaking truth in Kay Hymowitz’s new book Manning Up. Dearest Kay, please tell the Chateau readership…
What exactly does marriage offer to guys like us who have the tools to meet, fuck and love women?
It’s not like marriage by its very nature isn’t a raw deal for men. Even the supposed health benefits of marriage for men are a lie. Assuming the law was fair and not the man-hating femcunt swamp of legalistic ass-rogering that it is today, marriage would still be a bigger sacrifice for men than it is for women, simply because men are more naturally promiscuous than women and thus have more to lose by cuffing themselves to a legally enforced institution of monogamy. But now throw in the divorce industrial complex, the house, the kids, alimony, a washed up pussy distended from riding the cock carousel during her lean years and all the rest and that just makes the case against marriage even more airtight than it was before.
PS: Any appeals to nobility or honor will not count as a valid answer. Instead, they will be seen for what they are: a flagrant, flailing attempt to shame men into making choices that further feminists’ interests while undermining men’s interests.