The Settling Order Of Men With Limited Options

How do men with constrained options choose which women deserve their commitment and emotional and resource treasure? There’s a hierarchy to the order of settling for Men Without Options (M-WOs) and Men With Limited Options (M-LOs), but before we get to that, we need to clarify our premises so that we can better understand the settling hierarchy. A man with limitless sexual market options — aka a man who has his pick of the kitty litter aka a super alpha — wants and desires the same thing that a man with no options wants and desires; specifically, a young woman with a pretty face, a slender hourglass-shaped body and a feminine, becoming temperament.

The only difference between the piss-stained homeless bum and the captain of industry is the ability of each to fulfill his shared desire for young, slender babes. That’s it. The desires are the same but the fulfillment of those desires varies wildly from man to man.

Any fat chick who tells you that her repulsive condition is Ok because at least fat men will always be there for her misunderstands the nature of the sexual market. Fat men without compensating male attractiveness traits will only be there for her because they have no other choice; expand (heh) the fat man’s options through, say, wealth or game or wit or social status cues, and his reluctance to settle for fat chicks rises in proportion to his increasing options among thinner, sexier women.

Thus, the hierarchy of settling that describes men with options is not very interesting. It would be a short ranking that starts and ends at “young, hot, tight, sweet”. At the very top of the alpha male heap, there is no settling at all. A few super alphas have practically unlimited choice in women, and their cornucuntia could not be exhausted given one hundred lifetimes of skirt-chasing.

At the bottom end of the male SMV scale, the omega males and dick dregs lurk. Their settling order, too, would be a short ranking: it would begin and end at “take whatever female filth will have me”. A few are lucky to have internet connections and porn outlets, in which case the living flesh vaginas of obese monstrosities, toothless methheads and prognathic missing links can’t compete with remote digital simulacra and chafed fap hands.

As with the super alphas, the hierarchy of settling that describes men with no options is also not very interesting.

But what about the rest of menkind? How do the remaining 80% of men — men who are bound by involuntary restrictions lenient and punitive on their dating choices — decide how far down the female attractiveness ladder they’re willing to descend? What is the settling order of the masses of beta males who aren’t particularly attractive nor unattractive to women, but who struggle to acquire the kind of stimulating pussy they really want?

Legend

Hot = pretty face (objectively measurable, highly correlated with youth, 8-10 on looks scale)
Pretty = minor flaws (6-7 on looks scale)
Plain = medium flaws (4-5 on looks scale)
Ugly = major flaws (2-3 on looks scale)
Fugly = extinction level flaws (0-1 on looks scale)
Slender = hourglass figure, 17-22 BMI, 0.65-0.75 waist-hip ratio
Bangable = 23-24 BMI, 0.65-0.75 WHR
Chubby = 25-26 BMI, 0.75-0.80 BMI
Fat = 27-28 BMI, 0.75-0.80 WHR
Shaneequa = Same as Fat, except more hourglass, fat sits in rump, hips and pendulous tits
Sausage = Same as Fat, except more cylindrical, 0.80+ WHR
Formless Blob = 29+ BMI, WHR irrelevant at such sizes
Young = 15-25 (18-25 under existing legal constraints)
Less young = 26-30
Not So Young = 30-35
Older = 36-40
Old = 41-50
Expired = 50+ (invisible to men with options, last resort for men without options)
Sweet = feminine disposition (empathetic, nurturing, kind, generous, employed in female-oriented profession)
Sassy = femininity salted with sarcasm and insecurity
Dull = lacking in any discernible personality
Self-Centered = attention whore
Caustic = Angry, humorless, bitter, nasty
Man-Like = Aggressive, ambitious, cutting humor, selfish, slutty, employed in male-oriented field
N/A = Not applicable

Settling Order Of Men With Limited Options

1. Hot/Slender/Young/Sweet

Most of these girls are scooped up by alpha males. For a night, at least.

2. Hot/Bangable/Young/Sassy

Hotness and youth still exert the most influence on a man’s requirements in a lover, but the tier of men (lesser alpha) who must make some small concessions to snag a hot, young lover will generally accept in their women a few extra pounds and a little more annoying sassiness.

3. Pretty/Slender/Young/Sweet

Facial hotness is so crucial to a woman’s dating success that when men have to sacrifice a little bit of facial beauty in their lovers, they tend to tighten up their standards for the other three attractive female traits. Here we find the greater betas who are dating young 6s and 7s with very nice bodies and wonderful personalities.

4. Pretty/Bangable/Young/Sassy

Again, greater beta males and some lesser alphas populate this settling group. You’ll notice that the requirement for youth hasn’t yet budged a day past 25 years old. Men will choose youth and beauty before perfect bodily dimensions and heavenly femininity, particularly when LTRs are under consideration. (This post is primarily focused on LTRs, which is the romantic arrangement to which “settling” usually refers.)

5. Pretty/Bangable/Less Young/Sassy or Dull

Now we enter the realm of real sacrifice. Here you’ll find your established “good catch” beta males who must make painful concessions to achieve love with a pretty girl with a decent body. The first major concessions are usually age and personality — most men are willing to put up with annoying personality quirks and an upward age adjustment to enjoy the scenery of a pretty face and curvaceous, taut physique.

6. Pretty/Chubby/Less Young/Man-Like

What, chubby girls can be pretty?!? No. Most girls with naturally pretty faces who are twenty or more pounds overweight will have concealed whatever prettiness was there under a layer of blubber . The common refrain from desperate mothers trying to marry off their slacker sons — “but she has a such a pretty face” — is often a dead giveaway that the girl in question is a fatso. That said, there are very exceptional girls who can manage twenty extra pounds and keep a pretty face suitable for excellent blowjobs because the fat accumulates in places hidden by clothes. The slightly better than average beta male with something going on for himself will be forced into this settling category. He’ll take the extra pounds (can’t really be helped in modern America what with 70% of women obese or overweight), less sprightly upper range of youthfulness, and less sparkling personalities for a shot at a girl with a face that can inspire unbidden boners.

7. Plain/Chubby/Not So Young/Self-Centered

Welcome to beta male hell. Dear Average American Man, this is your life.

8. Ugly/Bangable/Not So Young or Older/Caustic

Here are your butterfaces. Broken beta divorcees sink to this level of settling. Very horny and indiscriminate alpha males (see: roids, teenage boys) will occasionally slum it with these ladies, but never consider them for LTRs.

9. Plain/Shaneequa/Not So Young/Caustic

See #7. Substitute black beta male for white beta male.

10. Ugly/Fat/Not So Young/Sweet

A man who has to settle for a fat chick is a lesser beta male, or an extremely depressed and unconfident beta male. He will try to get a fat chick who at least treats him like a king.

11. Ugly/Sausage/Older/Dull

Say goodbye to even a semblance of a human female shape.

12. Fugly/Formless Blob/Young or Less Young/Sweet

Some men must have youthful lovers, no matter what, because there is at least a chance their seed will find fertile ground, even if the ground is a patchwork of tar pits, quicksand, bulging calderas and deep sea trenches. Here you will find those skeezy losers who prey on impressionable young fatties with willing mouths.

13. Ugly/Fat/Old/N/A (sweetness is not possible for these women)

This is the omega male wheelhouse. The walking deadmen in this group would welcome a crossbow bolt to the head.

14. Fugly/Formless Blob/Expired/Man-Like

Why are you bothering? A furries outfit with a spooge valve would feel, and look, better.

***

So there you have it. The fourteen-step settling order, from A to O.

Executive summary: Men will yield on feminine personality and a few extra pounds to get youthful and beautiful lovers, but the acceptable threshold for extra weight is met far more quickly than is the acceptable threshold for an unfeminine personality. A hot, young woman with a lawyerly in-your-face personality and with ten extra pounds distributed in a pleasing manner on her ass, thighs and tits is still more desirable than an older pretty woman with a perfect body and perfect disposition. But once the hot young babe starts to accumulate more than ten extra pounds, the older woman begins to look better and better as an LTR alternative.

Of course, past a certain age, weight, ugliness, or mannish disposition the choices become so dispiriting that men are hardly able to summon the motivation to lift a finger and pick out one grotesquerie from another.

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Beta Female Relationship Whoring

Reader MrJohn writes:

I didn’t know where else to talk to someone about this thing I’ve witnessed, so why not here. Valentine is really a great holiday to spot the betas of the world. Here’s a beta from Sweden. All seen on Facebook. The girl (24) and the guy (about 28) has been dating for about a half year. The past months she’s openly called him ‘hubby’ on FB, although they are not engaged. She’s pretty much unemployed and has definitely gained a lot of weight lately. I don’t wanna post pictures of her, but she’s a solid 6. He looks a bit feminine, bordering on gay with his facial expressions. He works his ass off to please her. The typical Swedish guy I guess.

Looking at her page, she has been posting almost every hour of the valentines evening. And at mid-night she’s summing up the evening: (Yeah updating Facebook before giving him sex or any other trivial activity)

“Last pics to summarise our night  saw this movie here, got 15 roses of my favourite colours, three course dinner and finished the day with slow dance in our living room. I have such a wonderful man. Thank you (name). Love you with all my heart and hopefully 80 more years of this to come <3″

- attached are photos of them together in restaurants, with roses and all that.

I feel sick somehow. Am I just too sensitive? Perhaps this is the way to do valentines?

What has sickened you, gentleman reader, is the phenomenon of the beta female engaged in the act of relationship whoring.

You are right to retch, for beta female relationship whoring (BFRW, sounded out “Beef Raw”) is among the most transparent of ego-stroking ploys utilized by undesirable or marginally desirable women. You really want to call them out but, hey, polite society and all. That’s why we have this blog; so you can say what’s on your mind with the kind of freedom that nowadays only naive, small children or cantankerous old farts get to enjoy.

Women of questionable sexual worth who have “snagged” men of higher value, however precariously, are frequently susceptible to feeling urges to advertise on the flimsiest pretexts the undying love their loosely committed boyfriends have for them.

The reason the beta female feels this urge is because such overblown advertising of her relationship strength (as defined by the extent to which the man caught up in her shenanigans lavishes her with gifts and paeans to her awesomeness) serves multiple evolutionary purposes:

1. It signals her fidelity to her one-foot-in-one-foot-out boyfriend. Many men will settle for women less pretty than their ideal if those women compensate by offering implied (paternity) guarantees of present and future faithfulness.

2. It warns away female poachers. If her boyfriend is moveable product, there is a good chance he will bolt at the first sign of interest from a hotter girl. Women love taken men, but their predilection to act on that evil female instinct may be suppressed if the girlfriend of the desired man can fool her hotter competition into thinking he only has eyes for her.

3. It stroketh thine ego. A girl with a well-lubed ego is a happier girl who will be a more congenial girlfriend. (Congeniality nullified if happy ego results in ice cream aided fattitude.)

4. It is social oxytocin (or proxy oxytocin). The hormonally-charged bonding that naturally occurs in the early stages of a relationship can be synthesized quicker by ruses to project the relationship to a point in the future when it would presumably be stronger and more committed. Players use a modification of this strategy to speed up the time to sex, called time compression, time distortion, or future pacing.

5. If the girl is a bit prettier than average, say a 6 or 7, and on the wall side of 25, the beta female relationship whoring strategy could just as easily function for her as a self-regulating mechanism which “tricks” her into feeling stronger love for her boyfriend than she might in actuality feel, thus hindering any impulse she might have to trade up and risk a sure thing. Women have a more powerful “trading up” urge than do men, and this instinct can get them in trouble if they don’t have the self-discipline to know when they have a good thing and act accordingly.

Relationship whoring is essentially a technique employed by lower quality females for discouraging the competition and for encouraging the fence-sitting boyfriend to discard his fantasy of scouring the field for a hotter replacement. It can also serve to push a woman closer to a beta boyfriend so that she does not ruin herself on a perpetual hunt for commitment from an elusive alpha male.

If you doubt the efficacy of this strategy, here’s a thought experiment. Tell me, as a man, given two women of equal facial and body attractiveness, would you find it harder to dump or cheat on a woman who was emotionally distant and giving little indication she was interested in an LTR, or harder to dump or cheat on a woman who professed your mutual love to the world and tacitly confessed her utter devotion to you?

I mean, unlike me, assume you are a non-sociopath in the above thought experiment.

You may ask why one does not nearly as often witness this vile practice of BFRW from hot girls, or from very ugly girls.

Well, in the first case, hot girls have more options. They are thus less likely within any given relationship to feel as urgent a need to restrict their own choices by advertising their status as taken women. They are also less apt to feel insecurity about their boyfriends’ levels of commitment, (men are way more willing to stick around and invest if the lady is a champ), and they are less afraid of competition. (The threat of competition that would arise by dating a desirable alpha male is counteracted by the reduced threat of competition from being better looking than most of her female peers.)

In the second case, uglier girls (4s and under) don’t resort so much to the BFRW strategy because they don’t generally date men who are of sufficient sexual market value to entice female interlopers. The ugly girl is with a low value man, and nobody wants either of them, least of all themselves, despite the alacrity to which they resign themselves to their moribund romantic fate.

Middling girls are the ones who most benefit from BEEF RAW. Facebook is filled with 5s, 6s and 7s promoting pics of their candlelit Valentines dinners with herbish boyfriends looking for all the world like they’d rather be gunning down starships in an MMO.

What’s especially revealing about the BFRW subculture is that a man can indirectly appraise his own SMV by his inclusion or absence from BFRW antics. If your girlfriend has posted pics of you and her in all manner of romantic obsequiousness, you are probably a beta male with just enough SMV to avoid involuntary celibacy. If, in contrast, your girlfriend admirably restrains herself from the lure of online attention whoring and shouting your abject devotion to the heart of the world, you are probably an alpha male dating a good-looking lady of character. Hang up your player vestments, because…….. hahaha, who am I kidding!? You were gaming in your mama’s womb (stealing her resources) and you’ll be gaming till your last breath leaves you.

So, no, reader, this is not the way to do Valentine’s Day, unless you are a beta who doesn’t mind putting up with suffocating female crap and scaring away hotter girls who might be future conquests. Just get her a Skittles bag, enjoy her everlasting love, and be happy you aren’t getting pushed off-course your program to maintain relationship limbo in perpetuity.

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From Vikings To Vaginas

What happened to the Nordics? Once a virile, conquering race of people who struck fear in the hearts of enemies, they have been reduced to a feminist utopia of sniveling beta males who are encouraged to pee sitting down and aggro women who’d rather go clubbing with earthy foreign invaders.

How could a race of man fall so low, so fast?

In the quest for an answer to this great mystery of mass manboobization, a commenter over at Parapundit serves this up:

I suspect the Scandinavians with the strongest temperaments left long ago as Vikings, same as that the bravest Englishmen left for the colonies.

The only ones who are left are the descendants of the guys who stayed home to weave with the womenfolk.

Or pule about “white privilege”.

Yes, I think there is something to this hypothesis. The alpha males of North and West Europe either moved away or died off in endless wars and pillages, and now their homelands are repositories of soft-tittied beta males.

There’s no denying that beta male skewed societies are nice places to live. Scandinavia enjoys high standards of living, low crime (until recently), a plethora of comfort-maximizing gadgets, good-looking women, and generally non-dictatorial government (until recently). As poolside (or hot springs-side) countries go, the Norselands are right up there with the most pampering of them.

So, beta male countries > alpha male countries.

But here’s the catch. Too many betas and no alphas makes Jakob a plush target.

Pure speculation, but it has bite… a nation needs its alpha males to keep the manboobery impulses of its softer, kinder, gentler beta males in check. Otherwise, some other nation’s alpha males will fill the vacuum left by the real or cultural disappearance of the native alphas, waltzing in to do the job because the native betas decided open borders to a whole world of vengeful, antagonistic losers is smart policy.

Exhibit A: Multiculturalism. Who pushes this shit? The descendants of Viking berserkers? No. Just look at the advocates of masochistic, self-annihilating ideologies and you will see a blubberers’ row of pudgy, chipmunk-cheeked herblings, snarky hunchbacks, watery eyed dweebs, space cadet neohippies, formless male feminists and, on the other side of the gender bender ledger, manjawed clitdicks, bullheaded warboars, jet-fueled rationalization hamsters, mustachioed grievance whores and shameless status seekers.

The beta male’s greatest strengths — his cooperativeness, friendliness, credulity, magnanimity, trust and openness — are also his nation’s undoing when allowed to express unopposed. He needs the wariness, leadership, skepticism, protectiveness, fighting spirit and stone cold instinct for survival of his brother alphas to prevent him from imploding into a blob of depraved navel-gazing, hoisting his red rump for any and all who’d love nothing more than to sharpen their knives in his flesh and lube their cocks in his forgiving bottom. Exhibit B.

A nation of tops is Zimbabwe. A nation of bottoms is raped into the history books. The West would be wise to reverse course for the middle ground.

Finishing off on a positive note, the system may be self-correcting. Ironically, feminism is likely selecting for the sexual success of more aggressive, high testosterone alphas. The removal of societal constraints on female sexuality allows for the flourishing of women’s hypergamous impulses, and women, adorable hypocrites that they are, can’t help but defy their open claims to the contrary to prefer sensitive betas, and instead swoonly spread for the love of anti-feminist men strong in mind and body.

The self-correction is not guaranteed, and for this glaring reason: widely available, cheap contraceptives and abortifacients. A turn to alpha male sexual success does not necessarily mean a turn to alpha male procreative success, as it would have in the past. It could be that the West is currently experiencing the worst of all worlds: feminism-abetted unfettered female sexuality coupled with hamster tingling for irresponsible cads and migrant males.

Is this post speculative? Yes. Did you feel a shiver of omen in these words? I bet you did. Stay tuned.

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The Mind Of The Manboob: Hugo Schwyzer Redux

Hugs is back in the news, and I can’t resist his mewling charms. So sue me.

Two articles of note. First, a Jezebel twisted paean to May-December romances penned by The Matriarchy’s First Lapdog himself.

Age Is Never Just a Number: How Girls Got Older Men/Younger Women Right

Though “One Man’s Trash” has been the most-discussed installment of this season (and perhaps of the entire show), much of the commentary has focused on the mind-blowingly insipid suggestion that a woman who looks like Lena Dunham doesn’t “deserve” a man who looks like Patrick Wilson. The focus on the imagined attractiveness disparity between the two actors misses an equally meaningful plot line: the appeal and the challenge of age-disparate relationships. [...]

Tellingly, Hannah asks Joshua how old he is before she even knows his name: that Joshua is so much older seems to be an inextricable part of his appeal. The doctor’s affluence and handsomeness and stability are obvious, but Hannah seems more drawn by the age gap than anything else. Joshua, meanwhile, is fascinated, if a little bewildered by her boldness. Though a few male writers found the hook-up totally implausible, the mutual attraction is both believable and instantly familiar.

So Hugs is saying here that it’s totally normal for Lena Dunham’s homely character to be attracted to a high status man 15 years her senior. Ok, for a Hugo Schwyzer mental burp, this shows a reasonable grasp of the reality of sex differences in mate preference. But….

The storyline works because we live in a world where 42 year-old men are taught to find 24 year-old women more appealing than their own female peers.

Ah, that’s the old feminist water carrier we’ve come to know and loathe. Hugs, you are such a darling rimjobber. Do you even believe the runny shit you expectorate, or is it all a dog and fatty show for the benefit of your paying feminist overcunts? To ask the question is to mock you.

Like feminists, Hugo shares a propensity for boldly contradicting himself within the span of two sentences. In the confines of Hug’s hugbox, it’s normal for women to be attracted to older men, but “”"society”"” has to teach older men to be attracted to younger women. Women’s desires = natural, normal. Men’s desires = unnatural, societally conditioned.

It could never be the case for a felching manboob like Hugs who has sold his soul to the succubus that older men’s attraction for younger women is natural. Or that maybe… just maybe… the innate desires of both men and women, however divergent, are natural and normal and biologically hard-wired.

Yes, hard-wired, Hugo. From birth. Issuing from the hindbrain. Immune to cultural reeducation programs. Cemented in primeval neurons shaped in the crucible of evolution by millions of years of natural and sexual selection.

If it’s mentally taxing for you to grapple with the idea of innate, immutable sexual desire, think back, Hugo, to the time of your blossoming youth, when you first laid eyes on that young man with the broad shoulders, glistening chest, and conspicuous bulge in his Ocean Pacific shorts. Much to your surprise, embarrassment and volcanic shame which would sculpt the trajectory of your life, a boy boner sprouted from the downy thicket of your pubescent pride. You wept, beautifully.

Do you remember that time, Hugs? Yes, yes, of course you do. And you remember, as well, that it was no social conditioning or nebulous cultural influence or amorphous patriarchy that provoked those wild and lustful urges in you. Those urges, you will recall, rose unbidden from the depths of your being, like a thermonuclear blast through your sinew, to explode into the world and forevermore make mockery of the drivel you spew to this day.

Commenter anonymous writes:

…is [Hugo] real or some kind of sockpuppet. Surely no actual man believes that men are merely “taught” or conditioned into being attracted to 20+ yr old women?

He is as real as the beneficiaries of his delusional ego-assuaging largesse want him to be. No, I don’t think Hugo actually believes that men are taught to desire younger women over older women. But I wouldn’t bet on it. The West is filling up with simulacra of actual men who have swallowed the rancid feminist jizzbombs by the bucketload, and are begging for more. A willing mouthpiece like Hugo finds purchase today amongst a cacophony of loudmouthed losers who would have stayed ensconced in their hermit holes fifty years ago, brooding it out to themselves instead of polluting the internet airwaves. The Rise of the Hugo is a story of the Fall of the West.

To demand logic, reason, good faith, common sense, or accountability from the Hugo Hordes is a fool’s errand. There is apparently no contradiction or inconsistency or hypocrisy or lie too craven for the house eunuch to call into service if it wins him a contemptuous pat on his gelatinous bottom from the circle of shrikes. Hugs, is the sacrifice of your dignity worth the accolades from a bunch of psychologically and physically defective losers? Please tell me you are at least tapping some of the better feminist ass your humiliating masochistic spectacle ought by rights to procure you.

***

Article of note #2 was not penned by Hugo, but it was about him. After a quick read, I’m not all that interested in commenting on the substance of the article (it’s stupid, as is the case of most Atlantic articles lately), but I am perplexed why the Atlantic writer — a Mrs. Raphael Magarik — would write a term paper on Hugo Schwyzer’s internet persona and his psychological motivations without consulting the authoritative reference guide on the matter.

Come on, Raph, how about throwing a link bone to your betters?

Never mind. I can see when I’m not wanted. *sniff*

PS Hey, Hugo! Are gay men taught by society to desire other men?

Gotcha!

PPS Even when Hugo stumbles on a truth, he wraps it in foul-smelling lies. Here are two quotes from that Jizzebel article which demonstrate Hugo’s inability to speak truthfully.

Ask 20-something women on OK Cupid or other dating sites how many they receive from men 15 and 20 years older; ask women in their 40s how many guys their own age seem primarily interested in pursuing much younger romantic partners. The “cougar discourse” doesn’t change the reality that most heterosexual relationships with a substantial age gap still feature an older man and younger woman pairing.

Check out this slippery eel known as the male feminist. “[T]he ‘cougar discourse’ doesn’t change the reality…” Well, no duh it doesn’t change the reality! The cougar discourse affirms the reality that men of all ages prefer younger women. Hugo, is the “cougar discourse” saying something to the opposite of that reality, or are you just an oily snake dissembling for the sake of your fat cunt readership?

As she so often does, Hannah reverses the stereotype by being the sexual aggressor —

What Hugo omits here is the more reasonable interpretation that Hannah’s (Lena Dunham’s character, a hard 4) sexual aggression is not a deliberate ploy to flip stereotypes on their heads, but the necessary forfeiture of a dumpy, unattractive woman required to capture the sexual attention of an alpha male who’d sooner pursue a much hotter woman were one conveniently available. Hannah has to literally throw herself at this dude to get him to dump a fuck in her. She has to make it EASY for him. Making it easy is the only way marginal women who aren’t warpigs manage to get laid with attractive men. And then not so much; the strategy fails as often as it works, because men exercise discrimination in choosing mates, although on average men are less discriminating than women when sex is the goal. (Men are more discriminating than women when relationship commitment is the goal, and that’s why frumps like Hannah rarely get high status men to commit to them, which is the true measure of a woman’s romantic worth.)

Even if Dunham didn’t intend this interpretation, this is what actually occurs in the real world. Hugo could note that; but that would mean he had a spine.

and Joshua’s intensely grateful reaction suggests not just surprise at her boldness but also, perhaps a kind of relief that a woman in her mid-20s finds him still desirable.

The relief is for the zero effort he knows he’ll have to put in.

Forget the dick-wringing from male writers

You rang, fucker?

about how a hottie like Wilson would never go for a young woman who looks like Dunham.

Define “go for”. In real life, handsome doctors do not go for tubalards like Hannah, no matter the age. They go for slender babes. The tubalard may occasionally get serviced by a very tired or depressed Joshua who just got off the bender of a bad divorce, but he won’t be dating her or sending her flowers, or even seeing her in public. And your strawman notwithstanding to the contrary, what Hannah does or doesn’t deserve has got nothing to do with it. It’s horny turtles all the way down.

Not only does that woefully underrate the sex appeal of the Girls‘ star,

You’ve gotta be kidding me. Oh man, you are such a lickspittle. Tell me, would you say your wife is more, or less, attractive than Lena Dunham? Try not to squirm answering this.

it also obscures the reality that having a younger woman walk into your house and make the first move is a classic middle-aged man’s fantasy.

Only if she looks like Megan Fox. Try to keep it real, for once in your life, Hugs.

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Why Don’t Fathers Teach Their Sons Well?

How many of the men reading this have fathers who give (or gave) them realtalk about women? How many had heart to hearts with Pops about what women really desire in men? Reader Zombie Shane writes:

I have a theory about “The Natural”.

It’s kinda the White Peoples’ version of Amy Chua and the Tiger Mom phenomenon.

And here’s the theory: I think that some Dads CHEAT and teach their sons all the secrets at a very young age.

Kinda like what Adam Carolla and Jimmy Kimmel used to do with that fat obnoxious kid on The Man Show.

Can you imagine how much more poontang you would have scored in the early years if your Dad had taught you the forbidden secrets?

But instead your Dad forces you to be self-taught and to learn all the lessons for yourself.

Yeah, long-term, it’s a much better character-building exercise to absorb all the “hard knocks”, and to learn from experience, but wow, can you imagine if you had had the “White-Peoples-Amy-Chua-Dad” in, say, Middle School?

Being an 8th-Grader and hitting on all that fine-assed perky young just-barely-pubescent poontang?

Shit damn, man, shit damn.

Actually, on second thought [thinking about all that jailbait tail], maybe I should thank my Dad for keeping me out of prison [or at least out of Reform School] at that age…

The fact that you had a dad around to raise you is a leading indicator he is a beta male who himself didn’t know the secrets to women. That’s my theory for why more fathers don’t teach their sons the truth about women: they don’t know it themselves!

Not that there’s anything wrong with having a beta male for a father. If you like civilization you can thank beta male fathers.

Another theory that perhaps explains why so many fathers neglect their duty to impart the lessons of love to their sons is that they feel embarrassed talking about these topics. Even the most cold-blooded womanizers would squirm a little when the time came for them to teach what they’ve learned to their sons. And it’s easy to understand why: when you know women inside and out, you can’t help but be aware of their unsavory natures. Any talk with your son is going to necessarily implicate his mother.

Finally, there are some fathers who are so alpha that they actually view their sons as competition. To them, revealing the secret of snatch is like fraternizing with the enemy. These aging Lotharios wistfully long for the days when pubescent poose clung to them like dryer lint. In some dark recess of their minds, they harbor an envy for their sons which motivates them to conceal their knowledge.

Ultimately, though, I think the best explanations for the dearth of fatherly wisdom regarding female nature is that there are too few fathers experienced in the ways of women to know what to teach, and there are too many fathers protective of their children’s mothers who fear the risk that dangerous knowledge would tarnish by association the esteem with which the children hold their mothers (and sisters).

There is also the theory — and I throw this out here for completeness — that fathers are somehow genetically or psychologically predisposed to encourage their sons to attain resources and status to win the attentions of high value women, and that this mitigates against them teaching their sons the dark arts of seduction which would enable them to short circuit the laborious process that is the conventional method for attracting women.

As regards the origin of Naturals, the greatest influence on them is likely to have been their peers rather than their fathers. Or, if they have been influenced by their fathers, to have been influenced *despite* their fathers’ reticence to share their wisdom. I suspect Naturals benefit from three advantages, in varying degrees of imprint, that most men don’t have:

1. Fathers and friends who teach them the effective (note: I did not say morally righteous) alpha attitude through their own behavior with women.

2. Favorable genetic traits in whatever ratio, which may include sociopathy, narcissism, lack of empathy, mesomorphy, good looks, high sociosexuality, intelligence, artistry, humor.

3. Fortuitous successful early encounters with girls that set the budding Naturals on a path of alluring self-assurance.

So… if your father was an unapologetic cheater, you see vaginas in every Rorschach test, and you got your first knob job at the ripe age of seven, chances are good you are a Natural with women. Chances are also good you would not be able to teach other men what you know, because you only know it intuitively.

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Petraeus And The Infidelity Risk Curve

A reader writes amazedly:

I like sex as much as the next guy, but I’m amazed at what men will throw away to get it: a Presidency (B. Clinton, DSK), a 38 year career, CEO positions, money, respect, freedom…it just doesn’t make sense. No matter who she is, she’s not worth it. IMHO, obviously.

He speaks of Generals Petraeus and Allen and their Lebanese immigrant, faintly masculine mistresses (last I checked of this labyrinthine lovers’ octagon.) Yes, the scent of an attractive, height-weight proportionate woman is strong, stronger still when her surroundings are populated by bloated pustules formerly known as women. Scent of a Womb, you could call it. Men sniff it in the air, like a wolf picking up the odor of prey animals, and they are sprung to action. But it is useful to remember that as strong as that fertile pussy odor is to men, equally strong is the alpha male odor to women. Perhaps even stronger in women, since alpha males are so much rarer, and thus more exciting when discovered, than are young fertile women to men, who need only stroll around a SPWL neighborhood for a few minutes to ogle ten or fifty babes who can adequately stiffen the staff.

A woman in a room with a four star general is as overtaken by powerful urges to FUCK AND FUCK NOW as a man is when in the company of a pretty, young woman with suppleness in all the right places. You just don’t fiddle with the god of biomechanics and expect a slurry of sexual harassment lawsuit threats or career-ending consequences will keep His Dark Eminence at bay and the work environment safely borg-like and aridly void of sexual tension.

Feminists can screech and shriek, manboobs can pule, white knights can huff and puff, but, like all of us, their knees too will bend to the cosmic prime directive.

The scandal itself — so mundane in its predictability* — is only noteworthy for three reasons:

1. The conspiracy angle. It’s hard to avoid suspicions that Petraeus was not going to be fully cooperative on Benghazi and was therefore summarily deep-sixed by timely revelations courtesy of Team HopeandChange.

2. The male archetype on display of the “beta male in alpha clothing”. Too many people readily confuse occupational status for alpha maleness, when it’s a man’s attitude, first and foremost, which imbues him with the alpha allure. Although very high social status and alpha maleness correlate, it is by no means exact. Petraeus’s (or was it Allen’s?) self-incriminating email avalanche is some proof that he harbors the soul of a beta. A real alpha male does not do the email equivalent of gushing like a lovestruck schoolgirl, unless he really was lovestruck. (More on that later**.) He especially does not do this when he is high ranking military brass with a lot to lose should his illicit effusions be discovered.

As for the archetype of Beta Males In Alpha Clothing, these types of men get action from women entranced by their status, but then quickly lose these women’s interest when their betaness reveals itself in manifesting clinginess. The leader of men can be just as blind to the nature of women as the celibate omega male or the cloying beta male. Leader of Men beta males are often victimized by their mistresses because the women don’t have the strong feelings of love and loyalty to them that they would have to attitudinal alpha males.

3. The game lessons contained therein. Petraeus and Allen both miserably failed the Jumbotron test. You do not write tens of thousands of sappy emails to your mistress that you wouldn’t be comfortable airing on a Jumbotron for the world to see. That goes doubly for CIA directors. I like to follow the KISS principle in matters of the heart: Keep It Scarce, Stupid. And for God’s sake — the Draft folder? Have you dumbasses never heard of anonymizing remailers?

There are many tawdry twists and turns in this saga soon to come, I’m sure, but you really only need to see two pictures to understand pretty much 99% of what’s going on.

The wife…

And the mistress…

Wow, notice that masculine digit ratio she has? That, plus the squared off, clenched jaw and forehead zit are leading indicators that this broad is well on her way to breaking a land speed record for cock gobbling the alpha males in her midst.

How in tarnation is Petraeus’s potato sack poster wife for Puritan living supposed to compete with this fuel-injected sex machine? There isn’t a man alive who would pass up a chance at tapping that harlot if his only alternative was Miss Massachusetts 1687. You may as well dangle a chunk of raw meat in front of a starving lion’s maw and expect it to sit still for twenty years.

Look, I’m not claiming Broadwell is any raving beauty. She’s probably around a 7, adjusted for age. And she has that incipient manjaw going on, a classic tell of the late stage America, careerist shrike tankgrrl female with clit dick. But in relation to the wife, she’s a hard 10. Hard enough to cut diamond. If your wife — and I say this with the utmost clinical detachment — is utterly unbangable, then a 7 prancing around your office day in and day out, year after year, in high heels, pencil skirt and a sexpot squint will test the resolve of the most religiously indoctrinated or divorce theft-averse man. Every day you don’t expel yourself in the tramp’s come hither wicker is one more day you drag yourself home to suffer in stark contrast the sad, depressing sight of the Michelin Ma’am dutifully holding down the home post. Your guilty thoughts will eat you alive either way, so you may as well enjoy the benefits of the burden of that guilt.

The God of Biomechanics does not reward virtue. His works are Total Gonad.

I find the notion coming from some quarters (feminists and white knights and manboobs, oh my!) that Petraeus ought to have been more virtuous absolutely laughable. The man’s station in life, if nothing else, made him a rock star in his milieu. Women would have made their sexual intentions known to him rather blatantly. Virtue is easy when there is little to realistically tempt one to vice, as is typically the case for nearly all omegas of either sex, and betas of the male sex. This was not the case here. Petraeus had the equivalent of a thousand attractive men’s temptations thrown in his face every day. A choir of heavenly saints would have trouble keeping the Boner of Light in their pants under such circumstances.

Which brings me to my next jeremiad: Tossing men and women together in the workplace is a recipe for dissolving marriages, sexually dispossessing beta males, and corraling women under the banner of a few industry captain alpha males. Men and women in a putatively monogamous society are simply not meant to be in each other’s company, away from family, all the day long and night. Is it any wonder, really, that female infidelity rates are now approaching that of men’s rates? The gender neutral workplace experiment has brought alpha males and fertile females together like no other arrangement yet devised by man. And it happened under everyone’s noses, because no one bothered to note that human nature is real, and it isn’t going anywhere soon.

There is a reason why newly minted wives rush their husbands out to the suburbs, and it’s not just to get their kids into good white schools: it’s to sequester their men from the sea of luscious young pussy that swims the streets of the cities. Similarly, most husbands are much happier when their wives either stay at home or work in jobs where they are mostly surrounded by other women or beta males, like teaching or accounting. The goal for each is the same: to reduce excessive alpha male/hot female temptations.

Of course, don’t bother telling feminists this undeniable aspect of society: they’d rather stuff purple saguaros in their ears than contemplate the merciless, gender aneutral reality of humanity. Their willful ignorance is rivaled only by their catastrophic stupidity.

*How predictable was this affair? Very. The greater the sexual market value disparity between a husband’s wife and his female coworkers, the likelier the odds of his having an extramarital affair with a woman closer in SMV to himself. This postulate is best expressed graphically:

A high status man whose wife is a full 10 points lower on the looks scale than the women he works with is guaranteed to cheat, and cheat a lot. You will notice that some alpha males advanced in the ways of self-abnegation can resist the temptation to cheat, so long as the other woman is no more than a couple points better looking than the wife. But once the other woman crosses that threshold from “kind of prettier” to “yup, she makes my wife look like a duffel bag of laundry”, the infidelity is set in stone. And only those who loathe male desire will see fit to condemn such a man for his actions.

For the recent members of the studio audience: Feminists and their lapdog beta supplicants tend to be the types to nurse an irrational loathing of natural, normal male desire.

There are those tricky little trolls who will innocently(!) ask “Don’t you feel sorry for the wife? What did she do wrong?”

I do feel a twitch of pity for her, but it stops there. She did nothing “wrong”, in the Biblical or PC sense, but the fact that she obviously felt it reasonable to so fully let herself go is evidence that she cared not a whit for her husband’s animal desires, and was probably up to her ears in feminist ideology about the uselessness and evil of appealing to the visceral demands of men for physically attractive, slender lovers. Had she stayed thin (something which is entirely possible, barring very rare physiological ailments), she would have enjoyed more loving sexual attention from her husband. But she is undoubtedly a creature of the zany zeitgeist, and as such was likely imbued with latent hatred for the idea of pleasing one’s husband in the way that husbands prefer to be pleased.

There is also the matter of expectations that are inevitably placed on women who have managed to capture in unholy matrimony a rising star alpha male. The pressure to stay sexy and feminine will be much more strongly felt by a wife hitched to a valuable alpha male. After all, he has options most men don’t. The luxury of resting on her wifely laurels to scarf down a pint of Edy’s is not in the cards for such women. To put it mildly: Ladies, if you want the alpha male, be prepared to put in the hard work to keep him amused. If you don’t want that responsibility, then go marry a beta male who won’t have the SMV leverage to complain or seek alternate humanistic outlets for his needs.

Naturally, some of you women will balk. But try this thought experiment on for size:

The fat wife of an alpha male is the SAME THING as the unmotivated, dull, needy husband of an alpha female.

If you would be hard pressed to place full blame on the alpha female for her succumbing to infidelity, then so should you think twice before placing full blame on the alpha male for his succumbing to infidelity.

If you cannot grasp this elementary logic, then you are either a raving feminist loon, or a very feminine woman who confuses feelings for reason.

**Was Petraeus in love? I bet he was. Broadwell was considerably younger than him, and considerably sexier than his wife, and those two things are prerequisites for illicit love to bloom in the heart of a man. Feminists often sputter angrily when they see a much older, powerful man with a younger woman, a reaction which arises because they are aware that what they are seeing is an asymmetrical power relationship, but even worse, that the subordinate woman in the relationship ENJOYS IT! The man likes having a pretty girl look up to him, and the woman likes having a powerful man to look up to.

I think it is within the realm of possibility, then, that Petraeus really loved Broadwell, and saw her as much more than a fun fling. He returned her love, though in the end it appears she didn’t get what she wanted from him, and her knives came out.

Will anyone in the media beside this blog talk about the genuine love Petraeus, or Allen, had for their respective mistresses? No. The belief that a man cannot love more than one woman at once is ingrained deeply in the psyche of the masses. Most cling tightly to hopes that non-monogamous relationships cannot be loving. And who wants to believe that an older man can truly fall in love with a younger woman? Certainly not the legions of older wives!

Then there is the uncomfortable fact of female nature: who among the media elite really wants to confront the reality of the base desires of women, of their yearning for powerful men, and of their natural inclination to happily assume the subservient role to such men? Who will mention how cavalierly women will dismiss the far-reaching consequences of their actions if such actions bring them closer to joyful fulfillment in the arms of their married lovers?

Love can thrive in relationships where lust is the driving force. When I read that Petraeus was having an affair with Broadwell, I was happy for him. Imagine the torment such a man with his temptations must suffer, just to keep up appearances in service to his political career and his dreary family life. But he went ahead with his affair anyway, and he did it for love. He put love ahead of duty and the wrath of the PC Kommisars. He chose to live not as the mass of men live — empty of any joy. Petraeus may be a fool and betrayer, but he is also a bold, exuberant romantic. A man willing to risk it all for a pretty woman’s love, the best thing that there is in this godforsaken world.

In the final analysis, the magnetic appeal of this story is clear:

Petraeus is us.

PS I predict that the cuckolded beta male hubbies, both of whom are “conventionally alpha” doctors, of Broadwell and Kelley will be the least examined aspect of this story by the media. Remeber, folks, men are expendable! And that goes triply for beta males. They are the forgotten lepers in the wilderness of unspoken tabulations of human worth. We will hear a never ending tale of woe about Mrs. Petraeus, but hardly a peep about the sad sacks who suffered their wives’ unfaithfulness. Some sexes are just more equal than others.

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Reformed Beta Of The Month

Le Chateau has highlighted great and gruesome stories of alphas and betas, but what about those beta males who transcend, through sheer force of will, the prison of their supplicating souls? More than a learning tool or a life lesson, these enlightened post-betas are inspirations. The 80% or so of men who qualify as beta males need a role model like them; someone who can show them the way. There is a better life if they would just take it, and the reformed beta is proof that you don’t have to be born an alpha to have the good things in life and experience the flush of power that the alpha male takes for granted.

My prudish husband has left me because I lied about my sex life

When I met my husband 40 years ago I knew he was ‘the one.’ He had firm opinions on sex before marriage (outdated even then) and was a virgin.

As I got to know him, it became clear that he’d never consider marrying somebody with ‘history.’ He thought sex special and wouldn’t want to imagine his wife having it with others.

But, by 22, I’d been having sex for four years. Madly in love and wanting him to marry me, I lied.

He was bound to realise I wasn’t a virgin, so I made up a story that I’d been in a long engagement, giving up my virginity under pressure only a month before my wedding day, then reluctantly had sex twice with my fiancé, who then dumped me, leaving me devastated and ashamed.

He was very understanding and proposed soon after. We married and moved to his home town — a relief, as I’d worried we might bump into a friend who might speak out of turn.

We had two children and a very happy and successful marriage. But a few weeks ago, an old friend contacted me over the internet, and I invited her round.

My husband left us to talk and went off to the garden. Inevitably we talked of the past.

After she left, I found my husband looking devastated. He said he’d gone into the conservatory to read and heard everything.

He said he felt utterly betrayed, as he had a right to expect honesty, but our entire marriage had been based on a fundamental lie.

I said we’d had a wonderful 40 years, so what could it matter what I did before I met him?

He moved in to the spare room and avoided me. A week later he moved to a bedsit and told me he wanted a divorce.

Nothing would change his mind. Our adult children have tried, but he is absolutely fixed.

Men who want to find a woman for a long-term relationship or marriage (a codified LTR) are put off by histories of a slutty past. The woman who has given herself freely to men before him proves that old GBFM aphorism that it makes no sense for a man to pay for the pussy that was handed over no strings attached to other men when it was younger, hotter, tighter. You don’t seriously invest in a rode hard and tossed away wet pussy; instead, you ride it harder and wear it out a little more, then look for fresher pussy that doesn’t need its 60,000 cockas maintenance as soon as you sign the dotted line.

My method may be glib, intended to inflict maximum emotional pain for make benefit of my personal amusement, but the foundation upon which the glibness rests is true. Men have evolved intricate mental algorithms that subconsciously push them to devalue women with extensive sexual histories as long-term partners. The reason for this is obivous: the slut is a bigger infidelity risk, and thus a bigger cuckolding risk, than the chaste woman. Science has proven this, in yet another example of the lab coat crowd catching up with conventional wisdom and common sense observation.

Therefore, when a long-loyal husband finds out his wife rode the cock carousel, even if discovered to have occurred in a prior life of hers, his respect for her drops a notch. His love for her shrinks three sizes. His honed beta ability and predilection to put her on a pedestal and adore her suffers a grievous diminishment. She has, in a word, become a less worthy woman in his eyes. And, likewise, in the eyes of all men, because men, like women, share universal preferences for certain types of mates.

So good for this reformed beta for walking away from his once-whore wife. In the big picture, the sin she committed may be small, but sometimes it takes horrible and swift retribution by a man to violently shake a woman, and women in her sphere of influence, from comfortable delusions and easy expectations regarding the self-imposition of controls on their behavior. All it takes is a relatively few betas to toss a stone cold rock in the world of women and the ripples will eddy and swirl through the masses. The beta male has suddenly become uncontrollable, unpredictable, untamable! This is the stuff of revolution, and it will set women on the path to happiness more powerfully than a million grrlpower tomes, feminist blogs or fat acceptance hugboxes.

The haters are apoplectic. Their splutter is the stuff of delicious slo-mo videos. “But but but,” they will protest, “I can be slutty and still land a man! Any man who leaves me because I’m a slut doesn’t deserve me!”

Deservin’s got nothin’ to do with it, honey. It’s biomechanical turtles all the way down.

But I’ll throw the haters a bone, here. Yes, it’s true that a slut, assuming she is sufficiently physically attractive, can cajole a man into a relationship. Men are, before all else, born slaves to a pretty female face, and it takes effort to break those chains forged of unalloyed pulchritude. Many men do indeed slavishly pursue sluts simply because those sluts are hot with perfect apple bottoms.

But “sufficiently attractive” is the key word. The higher value the man, the more beautiful the slut has to be to ensnare him in a relationship. High value men, aka alphas, have options in the mating market that beta males don’t; these men, when they aren’t just plowing through sluts for fun and penile profit, will generally balk at dating sluts in favor of settling down with more modest, and less sexually experienced, women.

There is, then, a tacit assumption that the sorts of men the feminist sluts are pulling aren’t exactly the top of the alpha male heap. They are likely beta males, maybe some of them greater omegas with cute undulating manboobs and receding chins, who are so desperate for sex and female love that they can readily suppress their distaste for sluts if it means having a girl on their arms.

Maxim #56: The more limited a person’s options in the sexual market, the laxer his or her mate standards.

(For those interested in the science behind this, I believe there is a study floating around internetland which purports to show that very beautiful women with extensive sexual histories don’t suffer too much of a hit to their marriage marketability, because the betas who marry them are quick to forgive their slutty ways. In short, very hot women are so intoxicating that many men will assume the higher risk of getting cuckolded by them for the chance to enjoy a few years of glorious, incomparably pleasurable sex.)

In stark contrast, have you ever seen what an alpha male does to plain-looking sluts? It isn’t pretty. To call it pump and dump would be a euphemism. Think more along the lines of “facelessly screw and scatter to the wind”.

These realities of the sexual market aren’t often instantly apprehensible. You can go a few years only subconsciously picking up cues that your behavior is hurting your mate value. But in the aggregate of many lifetimes, and over each lifetime, the god of biomechanics imposes his relentless, merciless, unavoidable will. And you will bend the knee to him, sooner or later. You have no choice.

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When The Handicap Principle Is Just A Handicap

The Handicap Principle, or what is known in layman terms as conspicuous consumption, is an important biological hypothesis that explains why the males of some (most?) species have evolved costly status signaling displays. The idea is that a high fitness male demonstrates his high status to females by showing he can afford to waste resources on, for example, showy plumage or sport cars. It is objectively better for the male’s survival to not have heavy plumage that could make escape from predators more difficult, or to save money for future contingencies instead of waste it on an expensive car; yet, males of different species will often acquire these presumable maladaptations or waste resources on nonessentials because sexual selection exerts a force equally as powerful as natural selection.

So goes the theory. In reality, the theory bumps up against a wall.

You can’t get much more handicapped that that, unless you were limbless and genital-less with a concave forehead.

People open to the ideas of evolutionary psychology sometimes forget that nature operates within a system of checks and balances just as free markets and republics (putatively) do. The Handicap Principle helps explain some odd evolved male traits in species, but nature is always ensuring that the evolved handicap never gets too far out of control. Because when that happens, it’s no longer a status signal; it’s a real handicap that will repulse women or get you killed.

Game and the Handicap Principle have a rocky relationship. Handicapping yourself — a la Mystery with his furry hats and Victorian coats — is a great way to signal high status, IF you have compensating alpha male traits. Mystery has those compensating traits; specifically, his height, his grace under pressure, and his renowned game ability to handle the inevitable female shit tests and seamlessly escort women through the stages of seduction.

If, on the other hand, you are short, ugly, nerdy, insecure and without any game at all, dressing like Mystery is apt to backfire. Your calculated self-handicapping will not be a signal of confidence and high status, but an actual handicap that makes your job of getting laid harder than it need be. For you, the appropriate level of self-handicapping would be something along the order of uncommon shiny cufflinks or a gaudy ring. Just enough to incite curiosity in women, but not so much to banish yourself to the realm of weirdos.

Maxim #55: The degree to which you handicap yourself in an effort to signal high status to women should be commensurate with your game expertise and your confidence level.

The more confidently you can pull off showy clothes or an asshole attitude, and the more effortlessly you can deflect the shit you will invariably get from others offended by your ostentation, the more the Handicap Principle will work for you instead of against you.

Keep in mind, as well, that Mystery’s fraught couture is a game tactic in itself, designed to provoke reactions from women that allow Mystery to demonstrate his alpha prowess through his unperturbed handling of those reactions. You should welcome shit tests from women, because that means you have aroused interest in them. Mystery’s garish dress is a short cut to coaxing those much-valued shit tests out of women. But you need unshakeable confidence bordering on delusion to successfully pull it off, which, in my observation of fledgling PUAs, most men practicing the dark art of pickup don’t have in sufficient quantity.

For the average man who has leapt above the fray and grasped that important sex differences in psychology exist and thus interactions with women require a different toolkit than conventional wisdom offers, the Handicap Principle will be most relevant to him during the comfort stage of seducing a woman into bed (or into a longer-term relationship). In CH parlance, this is known as “vulnerability game“, and it is vital, in small doses, as a quasi-handicapping game technique for strengthening emotional connections with women.

Signaling that you possess beta provider potential is a powerful bonding glue to women who are at heart creatures of duality seeking the best of both alpha and beta in men. But since alpha is in rarer supply and harder to acquire, and since beta comes naturally to most men and is easier to acquire, the trick to finding the right balance is to emphasize your alpha while leavening it with droppings of beta. These beta droppings are the equivalent of handicapping yourself with costly displays of provider plumage and emotional vulnerability. They will only work when you have already established your attitudinal alpha male seed-cred.

If you haven’t established that alpha seed-cred, your beta droppings will go over like an elephant’s dung heap, because they won’t be droppings so much as “more of the supplicating same”. This is why women love to feel like they have to struggle to get a man to admit his emotional core, and dislike having men dump a bucket of their emotional core all over them. As women perceive it, the struggle is an irrefutable sign that the man is non-needy, has options with other women, and will give her the challenge she subconsciously craves.

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Hookup Men Vs “For-Real” Men

Ah, the knee-slapping never ends when two feminist spinsters on a fast track to wall collision gab about their dating exploits and using men for either fun or profit. Naturally, their window for “using” men in any fashion is rapidly closing in lockstep with the degree of their drooping flesh, so any gchats that conspire bewteen these pitiful specimens often provide hours of voyeuristic entertainment watching what amounts to this:

Is anyone else down for a good, old-fashioned soul flaying? I know I am!

Chatting About Hookups and “For-Real” Dates with Sex Writer Tracy Clark-Flory

By Amanjaw Marcuntte

After reading Tracy Clark-Flory’s Salon piece from Saturday extolling the glories of traditional courtship, I knew I had to talk with her in more depth.

Clark-Flory’s (never trust a woman with a hyphenated name) swan song to her sexy and vital youth is basically an admission against interest that her high flying, alpha cock carouseling 20s are over and now that her sexual market options are dwindling she has to settle for boring dates with beta herbs who promise they will stick around like office fixtures instead of bolt while she’s coming off a multiple orgasm. Naturally, she hamsters this as a paean to the glories of “traditional courtship”. What’s the scientific term for this cognitive function? Oh yeah… making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Tracy, who has been writing about sex and relationships for years, often in defense of the casual hookup, expressed a more nuanced view of the entire situation,

“nuanced” = deluded.

explaining how her increased interest in taking-it-slow, more formalized dating

“increased interest” = panic.

doesn’t, in any way, mean that she thinks that a past of more casual hooking up was the wrong choice.

The odds of divorce for a woman go way up the more partners with whom she has premaritally casually hooked up. Clark-Flory needs to think with more clarity.

Her take really cuts to the heart of what so many pro-sex feminist commentators have been trying to say for years about dating and sex, so I grabbed her on Gchat yesterday to talk more about it.

What follows is a beautiful digital mutual clit diddling wherein two mangy cougars assert they can have their cake and eat it too.

Amanda: I really liked your piece on going on a for-real date.

Tracy: This was literally my first for-real date ever.

What a catch! You know men — or should I say, desirable men with options — just love throwing tons of money and time and sexless dates at has-beens who spent their prime pussy years hooking up for free with men who agreed with them that dates were an unnecessary nuisance.

Tracy: Well, I should be clear: I’ve online dated. I’ve gone on dates. But most often they’re presented super casually. Like, hey, “Let’s hang out.” This was the first time someone clearly said to me: I want to take you out on a date, and here is the plan. Typically, whether it’s with “hang out” dates or hookups, it’s very low-investment—emotionally, financially, you name it.

A man will invest only as much as is required to get in a woman’s pants. Clark was obviously a pump and dump stock in her 20s who’s now trading for pennies but acting like a tech IPO. You know who invests in loser companies? Suckers.

Tracy: Right. I think it’s great that people can get to know each other casually. Grab a burrito and a beer! Make out at the bar! But it’s also nice to not feel totally stuck with diminished romantic expectations—as in, I can’t expect more than a taqueria “hangout” arranged last-minute via text message.

You should have thought of the danger of diminished romantic expectations while you still had the goods to entice worthy buyers. PS Having a history of being a big fat slut is not exactly an advertisement that you’re marriage material.

Amanda: That’s something I’ve noticed that a lot of friends complain about since I’ve moved to NYC: They think a lot of guys are just a little too eager to keep it casual. Which makes me wonder if it’s just that now that I’m in my 30s, my friends are developing higher expectations, or if it’s a geographic thing, where men in Texas, where I used to live, were more serious from the get-go?

No, it’s just that now that your female friends are in their 30s, and looking even more like fuzzy Chinese Crested versions of Samantha, they’re desperate to get hitched before the god of biomechanics cruelly escorts them to spinsterland, where cats compete with noodly beta males for their attention and the men they really want peer around them like they’re annoying houseplants obstructing the view of hotter younger tighter women.

Although it is a refreshing change of pace to see cathedral mascot Amanjaw give redneck Texas men a shout out for their chivalric wooing. I guess SWPL manboobs are finally grinding on her? (Double entendre intended.)

Tracy: I think both are probably very real factors! For me, at least, “hookups” have been a great way of getting to know myself, getting to know other people and getting to know what I want, romantically and sexually.

Hilariously self-serving cliché. How many penises does she have to straddle to get to know herself? Does the penis imbue some sort of special “consciousness raising” enlightenment once it has parted the labia? Should high school guidance counselors tell graduating girls to hop on a cock for career advice? I bet Clark has no trouble, being a member in good standing of the feminist cooperative, explaining to her acolytes that women require penetration by erect penises to discover the strong goddess inside them.

Now, personally, I think that a good rogering does help clear a woman’s head, but I’m not sure feminists would be happy to hear that from me.

But as I’ve gotten older—how I hate that phrase—I’ve wanted a broader spectrum of romantic scripts. And that’s when the hookup/low-commitment default became frustrating.

“broader spectrum” = loosened standards. “romantic scripts” = hiding her slutty compulsions. “hookup/low-commitment default” = couldn’t get a high value guy to stick around. “frustrating” = pumped and dumped.

Amanda: I think that’s what I really liked—your high regard for diversity.

Gabba gabba hey.

It’s not that hookups are bad, you said, but that they seem mandatory.

When all you have is a lack of options, the world looks like a mandate.

Why do you think it got to that point?

Gee, I dunno… age, attitude, obliviousness?

Tracy: I can at least speak to my own experience: I think I gravitated toward casual hookups during a time when I wasn’t quite ready for more serious commitment. I needed some time to play and experiment.

It’s all fun and games until no one wants to play with you anymore.

I think many people feel that way in their 20s.

There’s a reason why, historically, women were encouraged to get married before they hit 30. People used to be wise to the fact that women can easily forget how little time is on their side.

Amanda: That’s something that really was brought home in Hanna Rosin’s Atlantic piece about hooking up. She spoke to researchers that said that women were driving the culture as much as men, in no small part because, frankly, boyfriends can get in the way of other goals like getting your career underway.

Higamous hogamous
man is polygamous
hogamous higamous
woman is oblivious.

Amanda: A lot of people still buy the line that it’s something that men impose on women, that men are taking advantage of women’s, uh, “easiness”.

Well, men won’t exactly look a gift whore in the mouth.

That always bothered me, because there was never really a clear line for me between how quickly you slept with someone and whether or not it turned into wuv.

Here’s a clear line for ya: The hotter you are, the more quickly it will turn into wuv for the man, the other party involved in the interaction.

Amanda: Your point was really satisfying,

“Thank you, I needed that.”
- Ego

which is that what we really need is the ability to diversify: hook up if we want, go slow if we want, just do a bunch of different stuff depending on where we’re at.

Feminists, and women more generally, hate the idea of judgment and of consequences for their actions. They want to slut it up, take it slow, hook up, hang out, drag it out, do the woo, and try a bunch of different stuff without the judgment of men or other women cramping their uteri, and without worrying about the consequences which might ensue as a result of their panoply of choices. This is what is known in the literature as a fantasyland: a wonderful place in the puffy white clouds where human nature doesn’t exist and actions don’t cause reactions, except those reactions that the feminist dearly desires, which desire is subject to change at any given moment depending on the feminist’s whim.

But reality, so ugly in its clunking machinery, has a different plan for such utopian fruitcakes. Women *will* gossip unfavorably about sluts because those sluts represent a mating threat to their interests. Men *will* push for sex faster, and avoid commitment more studiously, with women they perceive as slutty. Sluts really *do* have tells that experienced men can clue in on. Cockteasers really *do* risk losing alpha males if they drag out the waiting period for sex too long. Aging, unfeminine spinsters with hairy chins and cheese grater attitudes really *will* have to settle for less desirable men than they could have gotten when they were younger, better looking and more docile. And hamsters really *will* spin their wheels more feverishly the higher the pile of delusional self-medicating lies grows.

I think that sort of thing causes a lot of men anxiety, though. I’ve noticed a lot of men in online spaces clamoring for a script.

Nah, that’s just you noticing that men are noticing your stupidity.

Tracy: Yes! There’s anxiety now about falling back on the more traditional dating script (which is not an entirely bad thing, mind you).

Can you blame these men? I’d be anxious too, if I had to traditionally (i.e., sexlessly) date a woman I knew gave it away for free in the past. And maybe present.

I think it feels too desperate, too eager to many young men. And, of course, intimacy and vulnerability have always been absolutely terrifying.

Why do feminists assert nonsense that intimacy is terrifying to men? Answer: it’s a female-friendly response that explains in elaborate mental calligraphy why they can’t keep a man around for more than a few ruttings, conveniently sidestepping the role that their physical unattractiveness might play.

Men are terrified of large, charging predators, like bears or lions or drunk fat chicks. They are not terrified of showering your overworked vagina with their warm seed. Get some perspective, will ya?

Amanda: Did you go on a second date with flowers guy who wanted to do nothing more but make out on the first date? Do you mind my asking? (I’ve been in a relationship for over six years now, so other people’s stories are my entertainment.)

The parameters of her… relationship… must be unique. Try to imagine the epic manboob who would have to settle for Amanjaw for six years, and then try to picture how long a normal man, such as yourself, would be willing to listen to her insane yapping.

Tracy: Actually, we’ve gone on something like five dates in a little over a week!

Lessee… guy wants to do nothing but make out on the first date. Clark dismisses his rapist effrontery by going on five more dates with him in the span of a single week. The femborg will be disappointed to hear this.

Tracy: Yes! It’s incredibly refreshing. And a large part of it is that I’m ready for that for the first time in my life, you know?

We know, Tracy, we know. You’re ready… because you have to be ready. That door won’t stay open forever.

It’s not like I’ve been yearning for that this whole time and have only now found a guy willing to give it to me.

Funny how you suddenly yearn for the self-abdicating loving lovingness of a desperate beta willing to lap your weirdo feminist shit when your expiration date is coming into focus.

Amanda: LOL yeah, that strikes me as an incredibly critical point.

Strike while the ego is exposed.

But that really leads to the question I know a bunch of men are asking themselves, which is how do you know what script a woman is interested in?

You misspelled “how do you know what script a hot woman is interested in?”

How do you know if you should keep it light or show up with flowers and a request that you take it slow?

False dichotomy. A man can keep it heavy and fast, too. In fact, that’s the best way to get a woman into bed, if you’re needing a script that has a high success rate.

Worst script: Pre-sex flowers. Never do that, at least not with women who still have more than a few eggs left in the chamber.

Tracy: Well, see, I think timing is so much of it. It really isn’t something that can be faked.

Oh rilly? I’m pretty sure in the history of the world there were more than a few men who successfully faked long-term romantic intentions to get speedy sex.

You can only do what you’re ready to do.

Bromide pie to the face.

If you want to bring a woman flowers, do it.

Hey, you can do anything you want, but that doesn’t mean it’s an advantageous course of action.

If you want to have casual flings, do that.

What if Clark’s flower guy decides during week number two he wants a casual fling?

Eventually you’ll find a lady who wants the same thing.

A lady now! How polite of you, madam. Will a Furry who likes to masturbate into soft bunny costume velour eventually find a lady who wants the same thing? What about a Bronie? A street flasher? A serial killer?

Oops, scratch that last one.

Amanda: That’s something I think gets lost in the overflow of dating advice out there, which is that it really is something you can figure out for yourself.

Then why the hell are you flapping your gums? And more relevantly, why the hell do media outlets continue giving shell entities like yourself a publishing platform? Mysteries of the universe.

Allow me to cut a serrated swath through this post-gender, social constructivist swamp muck. Amanjaw Marcuntte and her ilk absolutely hate men in the abstract and loathe unrestricted male desire. They work tirelessly for a world, however ultimately fruitless the endeavor, where female sexuality is free to roam wild and unjudgeable and male sexuality is straitjacketed, regulated, restricted, demonized, ridiculed and made obedient through law or eunuch alliance to female, particularly feminist, caprice. This is modern, critical theory feminism in a desiccated ovum. It’s a farce, but the bigger joke is that media organs happily provide advocates of this farce a forum to dazzle their awomen choruses.

Her’s a little slice of truth… just a little mind you, enough to qualify as hope and change but not so much to entice pointing and sputtering… for the Slate and Salon crowds and the Clark-Flory-Hamster-Hi-I’m-A-Useless-Self-Gratifying-Hyphen contingent:

There is no difference between hookup men and “for-real” men. The men you skanky, aging broads want “for real” are the hookup men who weren’t interested in the same thing you wanted back when you had more to offer. So you dropped your standards and unilaterally declared the more pliable men willing to play by your newly-discovered “traditional cougar courtship” rules the “for-real” men you claim you always desired.

That hatetalk is drawn from real world observation. Mine, and the collected wisdom of millions of men like me. Now, if you don’t like common sense derived from real world observation, then you can always turn to science, which has a funny habit of frequently confirming what we can all see with our lying eyes, and of debunking cherished feminist narratives.

“Under the hormonal influence of ovulation, women delude themselves into thinking that the sexy bad boys will become devoted partners and better dads,” Durante said. “When looking at the sexy cad through ovulation goggles, Mr. Wrong looked exactly like Mr. Right.” [...]

“When asked about what kind of father the sexy bad boy would make if he were to have children with another woman, women were quick to point out the bad boy’s shortcomings,” said Durante. “But when it came to their own child, ovulating women believed that the charismatic and adventurous cad would be a great father to their kids.”

“While this psychological distortion could be setting some women up to choose partners who are better suited to be short-term mates, missing a mating opportunity with a sexy cad might be too costly for some women to pass up,” said Durante. “After all, you never know if he could be the ‘one.’”

If you didn’t get that, what it means is that women want their alpha hookups to turn into “for-real” men, but, unlike Clark’s assertion that she’s the one making the choice in which men she considers “for-real” dates, it’s actually the men (coupled with her desperation fueled by her rapidly closing attractiveness window) who are indirectly deciding for her which of them she’ll have to settle with in happily “for-realness” after.

Yes, the hookup jerks chicks love are also the jerks chicks wish would stop dicking around and CHOO CHOO CHOOSE them.

If you are a man, the lesson is obvious:

Do you want to live free as a hookup man with the option to convert to a “for-real” man, or live knowing you’re the backup plan as a “for-real” man with no option to convert to a hookup man?

I think I know which man most men would prefer to emulate. But don’t tell it to Clark-Flory. She might ask you out on five straight dates in the same week after your tongue has been down her throat wooing the shit out of her.

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182 Days Of Blue Balls

Are happiness and sex antagonistic? A new study reports that couples who waited to have sex were happier in the long run. (Usual caveats about the accuracy of Daily Mail reporting apply.)

A study of hundreds of couples found those who waited to have sex were happier in the long-run.

Women particularly benefited from not leaping into bed at the first opportunity. Marriage also seemed to make them happier than co-habiting.

The researchers said delaying sex gave couples time to get to know each other and work out just how compatible they were.

Without this period of courtship, judgment can be clouded, leading to couples falling into unfulfilling long-term relationships. [...]

Analysis of the data clearly showed the women who had waited to have sex to be happier. And those who waited at least six months scored more highly in every category measured than those who got intimate within the first month. Even their sex lives were better.

The link was weaker for men. However, those who waited to get physically involved had fewer rows.

Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder? Would seem like it. But not so fast.

First, I’m not surprised women who waited — or, more precisely, made their beta boyfriends wait — were more satisfied with their relationships. Women are psychologically, and ultimately biologically, predisposed to prefer holding out for sex, because it allows them more time to judge men’s mate quality and investment potential without risking a pregnancy by a man who might flee the next morning. There are very good evolutionary reasons why a woman would make a suitor wait as a test of his commitment to her. A man who is willing to suffer 182 days of this:

…is a man who is likely to stick around after she pops out a newt.

Second, selection bias. Does waiting to have sex really make couples happier, or are couples who are more likely to wait for sex also more likely to be content and fight less within long-term monogamous relationships? I suspect the latter. The kind of people who empathize easily and go along to get along are also the kind of people who have the patience of a saint. I bet people like this also have lower sex drives. It’s doubtful that sex itself, or refraining from having sex, is the causative factor in their happiness.

Third, some recent studies have shown that men derive their happiness within relationships from their lovers’ happiness. That is, when their women are happy, men are happy. The reverse is not necessarily true. So a woman who has held out for sex to make an “unclouded” judgment — and isn’t it funny that women think more clearly when abstaining from sex, while men think more clearly when sexually fulfilled? — is more likely to be happy with her choice of man, and consequently her happiness will infuse her man’s happiness level. But a man would be just as happy with a sexpot who put out early and often as long as she was happy with him (and faithful).

The biggest problem with this study is definitional. Happiness is not love, and it’s not sexual attraction. Love is passion. Happiness is contentment. Love is volatility. Happiness is calm acceptance, even noble resignation. Love is dizzying crescendos. Happiness is rhythmic tempo. Love is hope. Happiness is the relinquishment of hope. Similar contrasts can be made between happiness and lust. Conflating all these as if they were of equal merit, or equally valued, is misleading.

Most couples do not wait 182 days to have sex with the goal of maximizing their mutual happiness, and so we can conclude that most couples are willing to forego long-term happiness for short-term ecstasy. Our revealed preferences indicate that happiness is not high on our mental checklist of values or emotional states.

It’s an intriguing hypothesis, though, that the happiness women gain from lengthy periods of enforced abstinence they sacrifice in sexual and romantic satisfaction. The committed beta provider that female-compelled (and it’s rarely male-compelled) abstinence selects for comes at the cost of losing the sexy alpha cad that female-compelled abstinence selects against.

Maybe some massively underacknowledged subculture of preternaturally abnegating abstinent Evangelicals exists of which I’m only dimly aware that skews the average time couples spend in sexless purgatory well into the double and triple digit days, but in the world I live in — the one that’s pretty much a given in any community that isn’t orthodox religious — a 60 day wait for sex is nearly unheard of, let alone a 182 day wait. In fact, a wait beyond three weeks is pretty much folly for any man dating your typical SWPL chick; by that time, she will have moved on to fucking some dude who actually turns her on. Even the women who say they want to wait longer than convention would react with disbelief if a man told them he would be willing to wait six months before having sex. It’s that weird.

What good is long-term happiness if you can’t even score the short-term thrill? There’s the rub. As a man, you are really rolling low odds by pursuing, or, more precisely, by abiding the woman’s pursuing, the “wait to elate” strategy. The far-future happiness and relationship stability that a long sexless courtship might offer is greatly outweighed by the high risk that you de facto castrate yourself to the woman you are chastely wooing. You’d be a fool to avoid the bedroom for very long, when there is a good chance some other man will distract your girl’s attention during her prolonged bout of purity. And an even better chance you’ll accidentally say or do something during the dry months of your courtship that extinguishes the spark of her attraction for you.

This severing of happiness from sexual triumph, for both sexes, is one of the great unrecognized repercussions of the past 60 years of our Wild West mating market. And it seems like this is exactly the way most of us want it.

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