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Archive for the ‘Sluts’ Category

Promiscuous men can handle their promiscuity better than promiscuous women can handle theirs.

Compare and contrast:

This is how a man looks after twenty lovers:

This is how a woman looks after twenty lovers:

That’s the thousand cock stare. You can’t miss it. It’s derangement that penetrates right to the soul.

Not only are promiscuous men more emotionally stable and contented than promiscuous women, they are also happier spouses.

Women who have several sexual partners before getting married have less happy marriages – but men do no harm by playing the field, a study has found.

According to  new research by the National Marriage Project, more than half of married women who had only ever slept with their future husband felt highly satisfied in their marriage.

But that percentage dropped to 42 per cent once the woman had had pre-marital sex with at least two partners. It dropped to 22 per cent for those with ten or more partners.

But, for men, the number of partners [sic] they [had] appeared to have no bearing on how satisfied they felt within a marriage.

Researchers said the study showed that sex with many different partners ‘may be risky’ if the woman is in search of a high-quality marriage.

If you heed not lies and accept the truth of biological and psychological sex differences, you won’t be surprised to learn that men, the sex with a trillion sperms to please their lovers, are hardwired to spread the seminal wealth without incurring psychotraumatic blowback. Men are geared from the get-go for poosy variety (though not all men will fulfill their directive and not all are geared in fifth) and therefore have the cortical capacity to easily tolerate the comings and goings of numerous lovers without having a breakdown or fretting constantly about how well new lovers match up to old lovers. Men occasionally reminisce about a teenage fling, but they don’t endlessly bemoan that one “alpha female” who got away like women are prone to do with their long-gone alpha male lovers.

This is why a man with a promiscuous past is not necessarily a bad bet as a marriage prospect, and also explains — along with the fact of maternity assurance — why women don’t care as much about men’s sexual histories as men care about women’s sexual histories. A man can sample the slits and furrows of outrageous fortune and survive the whirlwind of passion to mark a day in the future when he contentedly and without pathological second-guessing slips into a stabler, longer term commitment.

Women who have sampled a poo poo platter of penes accumulate emotional scars that never heal; promiscuous women have a mental storage closet filled with five minute montages of alpha male love, and these exciting, prurient memories rob the female id of something important. Call it purity or innocence or self-worth or ability to appreciate romantic idealism, the slut with ass chafing from riding the cock carousel is never the same as she was before she let herself get pummeled by dick. No uxorious beta male she settles down with in nuptial risk will have power over her senses like her past alpha lovers enjoyed. She is damaged goods.

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Her pockets are longer than her shorts.

Dat body language. It’s like she caught a whiff of dog shit. Betaboy doesn’t know it yet, but she checked out of their one-way playdate relationship long ago.

The story is here, in all its lurid, coalburning detail. I’m warning you so prepare yourself as you see fit. No matter what you tell yourself or others, the deepest recesses of your hindbrain will twitch in revolt. If you’re white. If you’re black, your heart will swell with tribal pride.

A white hottie with a soulless gaze cheated on her beta “””boyfriend””” (see above). And by cheated, I mean she triple lindied into a Rwandan pre-machete spree pep rally and had her clam shucked and pried by a diorama of dark continent dick. Pics and video and insta-taunting tell the tale. Rumor has it the video and pics didn’t catch all the action, and the full measure of her character was assessed by twelve mugging mandingos tickling the back of her throat.

I do enjoy a descriptive id punch.

[NB: She's leaning poolside. Looks like she's a product of a happy middle (upper middle?) class suburb. Witness born for those who want to insist race-crossing sluts are all low class land whales.]

As repulsive as is her self-mockumentary, what her sackless beta shitlapper borefriend did next was (if it’s possible) even more repugnant.

I’ll give you one guess what it was.

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Drum pail, please….

He forgave his princess.

He forgave her after being subjected, no less, to a barrage of very personal muh dikking.

A man shames not just himself, but his male ancestors and male descendants, the whole lineage in a straight line from past to present to future, when he defends the honor of a dishonorable slattern. He betrays his close kin and extended race. He surrenders his dignity. He prostrates himself for a pence of peripatetic pussy. He is the human equivalent of shit speckle on a public toilet seat. I could carve a better man out of a banana.

Now, if the “””boyfriend””” had just said (in so many words), “Hey, I had my (weirdly platonic) fun with this discount bin whore, and now I’m cutting her loose based on the available evidence of her unsuitability as a long-term mate”, all would be forgiven of him. Her… not so much. But that is stain for another day.

Naturally, given that the attention whoring has grown beyond her limited means of message discipline, the party favor skank has tried to play the “I wuz drugged” get-out-of-slut-shame card, but no one is buying it. As well they shouldn’t. Post-cock rationalizations always carry a whiff of desperate image consultancy.

Where was her father in all this? Has he self-delivered in the aftermath, or did he essentially self-deliver from raising his daughter long ago? There are 99 ways a father can fail his children, but this way is FATHER FAIL numero uno. You’d have to be less than human to not feel the burn of shame if you were this father. Will he show his face in public again? Or doesn’t he care? Is this escapist self-annihilation — by both white father and white daughter — the new growth of an invasive society species that chokes to memetic death the value of fathers and the forward-thinking modesty of daughters?

The less judgmental among you could argue she and her pitifully loyal white knight lapdog and absentee father are sick in the head and deserve compassion. Maybe. But I tend to another hypothesis: What we see happening around us is the symptom of a society that has relinquished all controls over female sexual prerogatives. Female sexuality, when left unattended and free to do as it pleases, often travels into very dark and depraved cul de sacs, and can circle there for generations, creating a vortex that sucks in all civilized life to a pathetic and predictable doom.

Worse, this removal of restrictions on female sexuality has been accompanied by a perverse reaction in the opposite direction to confound men about the true reproductive nature of women. We see rising lockstep with rank sluts a hapless loser beta peasant class who are so ignorant of the masculine behaviors and vibe women crave that they meander helplessly through a sexual market minefield, bouncing bettys bouncing them from one bloody heartache to another. Repeated romantic failure inculcates in the young beta male’s mind a hopelessness that circumscribes his options well beyond what a realistic appraisal of his SMV would demand.

And so what we have here is what you see with this particular beta male… a stockholm syndrome-type of pathological clinginess that feeds on a feared lifelong incelibacy and is conditioned by this fear to rush to the defense of manipulative psychocunts who play ping pong with his blue balls while joyously gobbling the knobs of hooting ferals who live and die on liberating instinct.

***

Flyover naifs claim that plenty of “good girls” can be found. I’ve no doubt. I have lain with many good girls, and have nothing but the fondest memories (of memories made and memories in motion). But that is a non sequitur. The question isn’t whether there are good girls left in America — there are — but whether their numbers as a percentage of the whole are retreating. We have only our life experiences, anecdotes, and coldly sterile data to consult for answers. (Which normally is enough for examination of routine human behavior, but never is when we put the microscope to the monstrous vitals of the lust-fueled id.)

On the life experience and anecdote metrics, these sordid self-debasements of the slut-proud social media class seem to be increasing in frequency and dramatic flourish. Each week brings a romantic ignominy to top the previous week’s sexhibitionism. Girls raging gleefully at the dying light of patriarchal civilization; men raging impotently at the dying loins of their once virile majesty. One simply can’t help but notice change is a-blowin’ in the wind. And personally, I have accrued enough boudoir time with enough high society ladies to know that there is hardly a one — no matter her class, education, intellect, or family background — who doesn’t have clattering skeletons in her walk-in closet, and fewer still who aren’t practiced in the art of camouflaging otherwise.

(And bless their ladylike hearts for feeling the need to attempt the camouflage to appease my masculine prerogative. Truly.)

Data-wise, the evidence is murkier. GSS self-report surveys hint at a sexual cocooning strangely at odds with the growing portfolio of Facebooked frolicking. If true, it perhaps suggests less a hidden chasteness than a bifurcation in the sexual market, split between evangelical virgins and blue city girls gone wild.

The current CDC data veer more toward affirming the anecdotal, but there too the pussy picture is unclear. Some sexually transmitted diseases are on the rise, but teen sex is down (while teen pregnancy is up *head scratch*). Age of first sexual intercourse is up, but rates of throat and anal cancers in younger women are up as well. “Technical virgins”.

(Do white girls slot a 12-dick coal train into the “technical virgin” category? Kind of like how fucking a dog doesn’t really steal a girl’s virginity? It might explain a lot.)

It is as if two worlds — one a last stand by a besieged former empire, the other a new world disorder where chaos reigns supreme — are in our day locked in a death struggle for preeminence. And here we are, living it in technicolor splendor.

It shouldn’t bear repeating, but every time one of these slutbombs explode in the Chateau gardens, there are invariably “players” who chastise Your Unholy Greatness for his perceived judgmentalism and self-defeating yearning for a better past filled with better women.

Yes, reports tell of a past America that was better. Not better in every way, but better in the ways that mattered. And yes, I will admit to some giddy despair over the dissolution of a nation that no longer lays claim to my heart. But I also won’t look a gift ho in the mouth. If a cute girl makes it easy for me and wants to screw after ten minutes of meeting her, I won’t stop her. I won’t conspicuously judge her, either, except by the bewilderment and pain I plant in her when I prematurely recuse myself from her girlfriend expectations a few weeks (or months, if SMV is 7+) later.

The slut is souldead! God save the slut!

The slut is a useful tool. Great fun, great sex, horrible long-term investment. And that’s not just a gut feeling. The whitecoats confirm. There’s a sound evolutionary reason (white) men are attuned to signs of sluttitude and women are aggrieved by sluts in their midst.

And that’s really the crux of the whorecrux. A girl who surrenders her every orifice to a pack of howlhounds live-streaming for a studio audience the slow flaying of her soul will become the woman no worthy man will think twice about marrying. Her humiliation, so abject and complete and perfunctorily recorded for posterity, (though for now she only feels it in fleeting sensations on the back of her neck late at night through the self-medicating haze delivered in warm liquid doses by her muscly rationalization hamster), will render her utterly unmarriageable to the vast majority of quality men with options. This stone cold reality will make her life incalculably harder, and wrest an incalculable torrent of tears from her mother and an incalculable tribute of emotional withdrawal from her father.

A merciful god would find some way to attenuate their torment. God helps those who help themselves. (If by chance some cleansing… salvation… were to befall the family, it would serve a valuable lesson for the others.)

A father’s shame, more profound, maybe, than his daughter’s. Because what is a father’s mission critical job as regards his daughter? It’s to preserve his daughter’s honor and see her off into the world the kind of woman a good man would want to take up. A failure to complete this job discredits him as a father like few other failures can.

This is the normal state of affairs, and shame and guilt have evolved to ensure that civilized fathers and daughters comport themselves in line with the prevailing social norms. But shame is dead in the West, and guilt is following soon in its brother’s wake. Social norms divide and redivide like a multicellular demon embryo, partitioning into separate and competing camps unsurprisingly in line with the diversity of seed that contributed to the demon’s corrupted cuckolded conception. Le Chateau stands a citadel against the alien revocation of these timeless forces of civilization, and for that we are despised by the wayward and wanton. More deserving enemies we could not pray for.

These horror stories always remind me of a fitting song.

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A distinct pleasure of being alive during the decline and fall of a Western world power is bearing witness to the technicolor debris that spins off of rapid cultural collapse. CougarLife.com is one such belch of asocial ejecta. The promo video is short and sweet, so recline poolside and sip your Molotai cocktail as CH presents to you a dating website dedicated to matching imminent Wall victims with inexperienced younger men hauling a knapsack of blue balls.

CougarLife.com’s catchphrase is “Meet divorcees, single moms, and sexy singles looking for a young stud!” (Studs are called “cubs” for female members trying to emulate Mrs. Robinson.)

The revelation in this cheesy ad is the surprising bounty of (unintentional) bracing truth. Of course, the truth is mixed in with a dollop of sophistic slop, but it doesn’t take much reading between the lines to uncover some timeless Heartistian shivs.

So let’s play a game. (“Let’s not and say we did”, says the recovering beta practicing his alpha chops.) Watch the vid, and list all the ways it conforms to sexual market realities. See if you found as many sterile Easter eggs as CH.

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OK, here’s what I found.

1. Right out of the spinster gate, a roar of propaganda hits us. Few cougars are as Hand-Alternative-Threshold-Exceeded (HATE)* fuckable as porn star Julia Ann. Your typical cougar looks like this:

grandma why are you clawing my chest?

The Wall feasts most gluttonously on former beauties who never thought the day of reckoning would come. I’m not about to make an account to tally what kinds of mangy cougars are on offer, but I’d be surprised if Julia Ann quality cougars numbered more than 1 out of 100. 1 out of 1,000 might even be pushing the odds.

By way of comparison, your typical man — cub, as it were — who joins a dating site specializing in cougars, single moms, and divorcees looks like this:

it’s been ten years! my precious fell off.

2. “So are you tired of meeting the same types of girls in bars?” Translation from the cougarese: “So are you ready for an easier if less visually stimulating lay?”

3. Julia Ann shoves a sandwich in the face of a not particularly skinny younger woman, (the girl’s reply: “Ugh, meat!”), implying she needs to grow some curves. Notwithstanding the absurdity of the implication (the younger woman is far from anorexic), this amply demonstrates the anti-feminist ugly truth that women are other women’s most misogynistic enemies.

4. A younger woman snidely remarks on her date’s job as a “computer geek”. Julia Ann leans in (her giant tits leading the way) and reminds the girl she folds sweaters for a living. Awesome reframe… which would be far more useful to a man who wanted to knock down the self-esteem of a bona fide hottie a peg or two.

5. Older women may know what they want (“young guys”, according to our esteemed MILF, because apparently the older guys are too busy chasing younger women), but that doesn’t mean they automatically get it. The presumption that cougars can get sex when they want it from younger men rests on the unspoken premise that the kinds of men most likely to take up the offer are undersexed goons or desperate virgins. Or non-famous YOLO black guys. And even that low grade supply will get cut off once terminal Wall impact is achieved.

6. Younger woman (to her date): “Buy me a drink?” Cougar drop kicks her and assumes her place. She smiles at the man, “How about I buy *you* a drink?” This is just a plain admission that older women have to price themselves lower if they want a scrap of male attention that younger, hotter, tighter women take for granted. (Note: The guy sitting across from her doesn’t look all that young.)

A sexual landscape of prowling unmarried cougars, single moms, and divorcees forced into settling for two minutes of cartoon love with awkward dweebs ten beers deep is indicative of a fraying society. All boundaries are coming apart; the hedonist impulse is the last standing principle. Interestingly, CH not only predicted the rise of cougardom, we held it up as an ideal arrangement in an anarchic sex bazaar where the broken incels and insols pile higher than the 99% vacancy rate Burj. Neophyte beta males increasingly getting shut out of the sexual carnival can get their rocks (and their apprehensions) off in the dusty muffs of grateful cougars, while older, suaver players can scoop up the younger morsels for long time love.

*Hand-Alternative-Threshold-Exceeded (HATE) Fuckability is a simple concept: Given a den of cougars (or other category of mostly undesirable women) and a lack of better options, how many are more interesting to your penis than your crabbed hand? For most normal men with functioning self-esteems and some experience bedding younger women, there will hardly be more than a tiny fraction of cougars capable of stimulating arousal beyond that which can be accomplished with one’s hand and imagination. The few cougars that can outclass your hand are said to be HATE fucks.

The HATE fuck ratio is actually a very useful stat for measuring a man’s standards and discriminating taste (which, ultimately, are themselves contributing factors as well as conspicuous indicators of his overall SMV). For example, if urgency and circumstance dictate an opportunistic cost-free 30 second rutting, and you are willing to fuck one cougar in a roomful of one hundred stalking cougars, then your HATE fuck ratio is 1:100.

The higher your ratio, the lower your standards, and the more you hate yourself for requiring the shabby hole of a bottom shelf jezebel to alleviate your incel. That is the essence of the HATE fuck… a tepid squirt of pallid pleasure in exchange for your dignity and psychologically distressing confirmation that this is the best you might ever do.

Consider yourself lucky if you have a HATE fuck ratio of 1:100. Some omega males shuffle along this mortal coil carrying the burden of a 1:2 HATE fuck ratio. Imagine being that guy who surveys the wrinkled menu at a cougar convention or the buffet at a NAAFA mixer and thinks to himself, “Yeah, I’m desperate. I could make myself sexually available to at least half of these assembly line rejects.” If you’re that guy… WAYSA?

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Sex survey accuracy is suspect because of “social expectation bias“, which influences sex survey participants to respond in the way they think is socially acceptable. Sex surveys are back in the news because word is getting out to the masses that recent survey data shows younger generations are having less sex, something that strikes people as odd given the current Western cultural climate of utter depravity.

But besides social expectation bias (and the verified observation that women tend to lie more than men on sex surveys), there is something else at play that corrupts social survey findings: The ambiguity of the terms being used on the surveys and in synopses of results.

For instance, what exactly does it mean to “have less sex”? Yes, it means numerically to have less frequent sex (say as measured on a per month basis), but the assumption then is that this means fewer partners. It doesn’t. It is possible, (in fact, as CH will argue, probable), that less sex means more partners.

Compare a 1950s 25-year-old woman to a 2014 25-year-old woman. If sex survey results are to be believed without qualification, that 1950s woman was sluttier; she had sex 6 times per month compared to the 4 times per month the 2014 woman is having. The unthinking reader may exclaim, “holy crap those 1950s housewives sure got around!”

Ah, but that’s where a little knowledge of the sexual market can help your powers of induction. A married, faithful 1950s housewife who deeply loved and admired her bring-home-the-bacon husband would welcome sex six times per month. She would be ravenous in the sack. A sexually voracious woman is not a slut unless she spreads her sexual voracity among many men.

Now fast forward to our 2014 Götterdämmerung sexual market. Our 25-year-old woman is not married, and she is not dependent on any man for her discretionary cash needs. She dates a lot, but needs at least three dates before having sex with a man. She had one long-term relationship in high school, but since then it’s been all short-term post-collegiate flings. She meets a new man she’d like to bang about once every four months, which means she endures long dry spells between dates. She has a lot of sex with a man after he’s stuck around for longer than three dates, but her dry spells mean that her average sex frequency is only four times per month. Her relationships usually top out at six months now, so although she has less sex than her 1950s counterpart, she is far sluttier, having amassed a lifetime partner count in the double digits.

The lesson of this post is that the only reliable way you’ll get accurate data on how many different dicks the typical American woman invites into her chamber of intercourse is by insect-sized drone spying on her and recording every moment of penetration. Otherwise, it’s just her word on a piece of paper, and that plus a buck will get you a buck.

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The recently outed Duke porn whore Belle Knox (real name MIRIAM WEEKS) was interviewed by an intrepid CH reporter.

You can watch the interview here.

Ok, so she’s not much for words. Her mouth is busy doing other stuff. And yes, she really is a women’s studies major. Like millions of other women with useless degrees and six digit student loan debt, she had no choice but to turn to facial abuse porn to survive.

At least one member of her immediate family will self-deliver before the year is out, count on it.

ps MIRIAM WEEKS. She wants the publicity, she and her family will get the publicity, good and hard. I’m sure she can accommodate.

pps This story is less about MIRIAM WEEKS than it is about our leftoid, pozzed media who love to jam stories like these down everyone’s throat. I dunno, but I imagine in halcyon days of American yore a stone bold slut like MIRIAM WEEKS would be shunned by everyone, including the media, to live out her diseased days alone and isolated from normal human contact. She might not be a changed person, but the culture that enveloped her would be different. And what worse fate for the BPD attention whoring sociopathic slut than being utterly ignored?

pps I love that porn whores and obese monstrosities are the only real allies feminists have left.

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The infamous lawyercunt is an archetype first identified (and happily ridiculed) by CH artisans of the hairy oyster. But the lawyercunt has gotten a little long in the fang. It isn’t that she’s grown mellower with age, or that her occupation has started attracting a less lizardly class of humans. It’s just that times change, and new opportunities for leeching off productive society attract the attention of master class attention whores with a taste for gratuitous drama and lying through their teeth.

Enter the social media consultant, aka Twittercunt.

If anyone can usurp the lawyercunt in cuntishness, it’s the Twittercunt. I was reminded of the Twittercunt’s foul ascendence up the social status ladder of our declining American empire whilst perusing the musings of the Lead Sadist over at MPC (My Patriarchal Cocksmanship):

real talk all the social media consultants I have met, which is a few, have been amoral opportunistic scumbags

I’ve also seen a few partners of mine stung by them, where they’ll bring in a social media person who will then shmooze the client and steer all the business to him and his friends

really they make used car salesman seem like altruistic do-gooders

It’s funny because around the time of reading that I was retelling a salacious story to a friend about a past lover of extraordinary wantonness who transmogrified into the very thing we both assumed she was fated to become: A social media consultant. I’ve known in the French way five or six Twittercunts (all women), and all but one were sociopathic sluts, capable of lying to their mamas’ faces if it meant an extension of family credit to shack up with a bike messenger. (The one exception, ironically, happened to be one of the sweetest, kindest girls with whom I’ve had the pleasure to share pleasure. I do fondly recall her on occasion.) I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that some of them amassed cock counts in the triple digits.

Not that I’m complaining. If you have game, a challenging demeanor, and an asshole attitude (to which she deeply relates), the social media cuntsultant is a sure thing, and down to submit to just about every degradation under a harvest moon. Just don’t expect her to make even empty gestures toward fidelity. She’ll fuck around on you, but as long as you go in knowing what she is, there’s poon gold to be mined until the bloom wears off the romance (three months, tops).

We now live in the age of high-tech, field tested, focus grouped, multimodal mastery over human perception, and the social media cuntsultant is its most psychopathically committed avatar.  You think I’m exaggerating? Take a look at this list of occupations which attract the most psychopaths. Number 2 is Lawyer, and number 3 is Media (TV/Radio). If you add number 4 (Salesperson) to number 3, you birth the social media whore anti-christ.

Oh well. A declining nation gets the middlewoman, amoral, self-promoting parasites it deserves.

(Good rule of thumb: If your nation has a lot of engineers working to put a man on the moon, you live in a golden era. If your nation has a lot of hucksters spinning gold out of carts of dung, start thinking about early overseas retirement.)

So here’s to you, Twittercunt, ouster of argumentative lawyercunts. You’re just as untrustworthy, slutty and good to go as your sophistic sisters, but at least you don’t make a federal case out of every minor disagreement.

A song for the new kunt in town:

There’s talk in the bars it sounds so familiar,
great expectations everybody’s watching you.
Players you meet they all seem to know you,
even your old friends treat you like the town screw.

Twittercunt maven,
the new ho in town,
everybody bangs you,
so chug your Pill down.

You look in her eyes the crazy is on display,
sex in the bathroom, here we go again.
But after awhile you’re thinkin’ she’s gonna stray,
it’s those restless muffs that always spread.

Twittercunt maven,
the new ho in town.
Will you catch VD
from her sideways frown?

There’s so many cocks she went and holstered,
but night after night you’re willing to bone her,
no rubber,
pray you recover.

There’s jive on Facebook it’s there to inflate her,
doesn’t really matter which client she sucks.
She’s LinkedIn and buzzed, creating nothing of value,
they will never forget her ’til her boobs are hitting the floor.

Where you been lately?
There’s a new ho in town.
Everybody bangs her,
don’t they,
and she’s SEOed
every penis around.
Oh my my
There’s a new ho in town
Just another new slore in town

hooooo, hoooo
Everybody’s banging out
hooooo, hoooo
the new ho in town,
hooooo, hoooo
Everywhere she’s walkin’ like
hooooo, hoooo
the town pound.

There’s a new ho in town,
(and you’re gonna hear it)
There’s a new ho in town,
(you just wanna hit it)
There’s a new ho in town,
a social media clown,
Her life’s a PR campaign.
Everybody’s talking
There’s a new ho in town
Players start to working
There’s a new ho in town…
and she gets passed around…
like her padded CV…
people say she’s easy…

It would be great if the reader who performed The Wreck of the Beta Male Cuckold could do a rendition of There’s a New Kunt in Town. He has a good voice.

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A new study provides further confirmation of the CH view of women’s sexual nature. (For a review of the study run through a typical Slate writer’s nancification algorithm, see here.) Executive summary: women screw around with charming cads and ignore beta providers when their financial needs are met by the state or by a rich daddy, and their emotional needs are met by a supportive culture that condones the removal of all restrictions on female sexuality.

While a great diversity of sexual norms exist around the world, ranging from strictly enforced monogamy to polyamory, according to Scelza’s new study there are two environmental contexts where women commonly choose multiple partners. The first is where women have more material support from their kin or economic independence from men more generally. This may explain why multiple mating is most common among small-scale matrilocal societies (in which women remain in their home village after marriage), such as the partible paternity societies of South America or the Mosuo of China. It may also explain why female infidelity has increased in Western societies as women have gained greater political and economic independence. (For example, Iceland was ranked first in gender equality by the World Economic Forum in 2013 at the same time that 67 percent of children were born out of wedlock, the highest rate in the Western world.) Under this scenario, women choose multiple partners because they have more options available to them, they can rely on their support network during transitional times, and they have greater personal autonomy.

The second environmental context Scelza identified is where the sex ratio is female-biased (indicating a scarcity of men) or there is a high level of male unemployment (indicating a scarcity of men who can provide support). Women may be trying to “make the best of a bad situation and capitalizing on their youth to improve their reproductive prospects.” In such environments women tend to have higher rates of teen pregnancy as well as illegitimate births. Multiple mating may be a way of hedging their bets in an unstable environment. By pursuing an ardent sexual strategy, women are able to choose the best potential males as well as gain the support they need in order to maximize their reproductive success.

The Slate author digesting this study is another one of those borderline males suffering from cerebral Scalzi. You can tell by how dutifully he parrots feminist boilerplate in a vain effort to whitewash the real implications of the study or to redirect readers away from crimethink. “OMG I DON’T EVEN WOW JUST WOW SLUT SHAMING LET OUR WOMEN BANG TRUE SEXUAL EQUALITY WHEN WOMEN CAN SCREW AROUND LIKE MEN”.

If you can get past his vagina flapping, there are some nuggets of inference to be made. For instance, when the provisioning and support services of beta males are rendered extraneous by the economic self-sufficiency and pro-independent tankgrrl cultural agitprop afforded modern Western women, those women are more likely to chase alpha cads for fun and genetic profit. Chateau Heartiste called attention to this phenomenon years ago, and now ♥science♥ — as is its wont — has once again vindicated eagle-eyed CH observations about the machinery of the sexual market. (You gotta swim with the sharks to know how dangerous they can be.)

Or think about what a world of financially and sexually freed women pursuing an “alpha fux betas chucked” strategy looks like. Yeah, if Sub-Saharan Africa leapt to mind, you’re on the right track. A feminist utopia is not far removed in practice from the worst shit pits in the world. You take away any incentive for beta males to invest in cock carouseling post-prime women and to cooperate with shameless sluts to raise the next generation, and you are looking down the barrel of civilizational rot.

Luckily, there’s much ruin in a population group’s ingrained sexual mores. The West — still mostly white — has an evolved store of genetic imperatives that drive them to favor monogamy over promiscuity or free love “sex at dawn”-style polyamory. As Razib demurred, the problem with these sorts of studies so beloved by the degenerate freak mafia over at Slate et al., is that the “main gripe is not west vs. rest. eurasian ag. vs. rest”. In other words, be careful about international comparisons of sexual behavior; you may not like what the data imply about your beloved pet cultures.

But that Western store of monogamous feeling can run out, or become so warped from mismanagement that dysfunction blooms in the absence of once-venerated social constraints. Genetic predisposition can become overwhelmed by strong cultural forces acting in the opposite direction. Enervate the people of the West enough — acclimate their women to state largesse and shamelessness — and any desire for monogamy and paternal assurance will wilt under the pressure.

Pussboys who cheerlead for a female-led promiscuous feminist future have a blind spot regarding any blowback. It’s a “there’s no victim” party all the time for leftoids, who are incapable of considering the consequences of their childish, narcissistic acting out. Like most manginas, they lack the intellectual integrity to tackle the reality of female hypergamy, and wrongly assume that a free love paradise that impugns marriage and female chasteness will mean more sex for all men. No, what it will mean is more sex for alpha males.

No effort is given to understanding the male reaction to unfettered female sexual autonomy. Not a scintilla of curiosity how men will respond when women “choose multiple partners because they have more options available to them, they can rely on their support network during transitional times, and they have greater personal autonomy.” Do Western women live in a vacuum? Or do they live in a world where men exercise choice and respond to incentives? Where men loathe the prospect that their girlfriends or spouses might be carrying the love child of a DJ or yoga class instructor?

That feminist-lauded “support network” with Hillary-esque “it takes a village” overtones will surely become less supportive as increasing numbers of men disillusioned with the growing ranks of cad-chasing sluts drop out, taking their sweat and their money with them, ultimately depriving the state of its ability to transfer resources from men to women. Civilization banks on getting men to invest in its continuance, and the tool it uses is monogamy and guarantees of one woman-one man. If women renege on their end of the deal… well, don’t be surprised if men renege on theirs.

The sexual market is a giant biofeedback loop. More female economic and sexual autonomy will cause perturbations throughout every facet of life. And you don’t need to cast afar to see what a free love society that caters entirely to women’s sexual prerogatives means. Just listen for the sound of gunshots in the ghetto and the silence of empty playgrounds in the suburbs.

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