Stupid SWPL Irony

GLP has a funny post about the tendency of good SWPL libs to inject self-referential irony in their blog bios. There’s even a word for this artless form — catacosmesis. Basically, the SWPL lists things he or she values or wants stressed about their characters, and ends the personal list with some calculated triviality that’s supposed to humanize them (i.e., calm lessers who might (should!) be intimidated by their smarts and accomplishments). For instance, here’s Ezra Klein’s bio:

Blogger/columnist for Washington Post, columnist for Bloomberg View, contributor to MSNBC. Eater of food. Hater of filibuster. Lover of charts.

Beta max.

Feminists, no surprise here, love to scatter their oh-so-serious bios with references to food.

Fearless leader of Skepchick.org, podcaster for SGU, writer, ice cream enthusiast

Oh, how ironic! I’m an atheist feminist SWPL and I’m writing a bio of my SUPER SERIOUS SUPER HIGH ACHIEVER self which, you know, is so gauche!, so let me just stick this little SUPER FUNNY tidbit about my love of ice cream at the end of the sentence. There! I can almost picture my fat feminist and bitch tittied mangina readers chuckling to themselves while missing the real irony that eating a lot of ice cream is what’s making them fat and turning them into man-hating feminists!

Dear SWPL pudding pops, this is what a coolasfuck bio looks like:

Let me tell you about my life….

BLAM!

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Reader Mailbag: Oh Poppa I’m In Fear For My Life Edition

Email #1: Daddy issues and the beta son

I grew up with alot of women around me and no father, which makes it harder for me to be an ass to women but at the same time im able to detect alot of bullshit and dodge it ever so elegantly, im pretty sure there are some studies on this, maybe write something about that? lack of male figure in growing up??

This is a difficult subject simply because it’s so hard to disentangle confounding variables in any causal relationship between parental influence (or lack of influence) and the future betatude of sons. What we do know: the bastard spawn of single moms grow up with lower chances at a successful life and higher chances of dysfunction. Now whether this is primarily because biological father absence causes kids to fail at life, or because the deadweight of single moms are genetically prone to failure, or a mix of both, is open for debate. In that spirit of caution, I’ll rely on my bird’s-eye-view impressions of father-son dynamics:

– A boy who grows up in a female-centric, fatherless home is most likely to burst forth from his rotted, disfigured chrysalis a self-destructive omega male. Too much female influence will render him utterly unprepared to acknowledge real female nature. He won’t learn from his mistakes, and he’ll suffer from the bad advice of his mother and sisters. That said, there is a minority of these robbed boys who grow into thugs and ruffians, treating women like shit and learning the dangerous lesson (dangerous for society that is) that chicks dig jerks, so why not give ’em more of what they crave. These boy usually wind up behind WaWa huffing paint.

– A boy who grows up with a cowardly beta father — the kind of father who bends to the will of the mother every time — will either learn to mimic his father’s ineptitude with women, or he will be so thoroughly repulsed by his father’s weakness that he veers in the opposite direction. My observation is that most boys with beta fathers grow into betas themselves. Nature, nurture, take your pick; result is the same.

– Boys who grow up with faithful, strong alpha fathers typically become alpha themselves, but a minority react to their fathers’ overbearing presence and unreachable standard by turning to the fap side of mincing betatude as a sort of protest lifestyle to rationalize their failing vis a vis their fathers’ success.

– Boys who grow up with asshole-ish, abusive, unfaithful alpha fathers don’t fall far from the tree when it’s their turn to navigate the mating market. However, a minority of these boys grow up totally renouncing their masculinity because they suffered under the burden of their fathers’ masculine intensity. Shrieking feminist manginas are birthed from this type of family cauldron more often than you’d think.

The reader says that growing up in a female-centric family has allowed him to detect typical female bullshit and dodge it when he sees it coming. I don’t disbelieve his personal experience, but in reality I don’t see many fatherless sons in female-run families learning the ropes about women. It seems to be more often the case that the boy immersed in a female world has the ball juice squeezed out of him, as mom and sis and aunt try to mold him into a caricature of what they think women want instead of what women really like.

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Email #2: Realtalk

I’m going to all CPAC with my video camera. Since I take inspiration from your blog, I figured I’d ask you if there were any questions/topics you or the readers wanted me to ask the speakers attendees.

If you DO post this to the blog, please don’t use my name…but if I post the video on youtube everyone would know who I am anyway. Eh..

I’ll assume that CPAC is the acronym for “Conservative Political Action Conference”. Any readers want to take a stab at this? Could be interesting to compile a list of Chateau-influenced questions to dispense at a moment’s notice during any political conference or book signing. At the very least, it would be funny to see speakers frozen with fear trying to answer questions that deviate from the usual banal script.

How about this: “Why do you think the elites who control national discourse are so adamant about importing a second underclass?”

Or: “Alternate sexual outlets lower the incidence of rape. Isn’t this a good reason to legalize prostitution?”

Or: “Isn’t it time we get the government out of the business of subsidizing academia?”

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Email #3: Hindbrain über alles

OK, Dr. Evolutionary Sociobiologist, WHY?

1. Because women who have had kids have fulfilled their prime directive.

2. Because men become more beta and domesticated within the comfy confines of a relationship.

3. Because older women have lower sex drives.

That should about cover it.

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Email #4: If it was that easy, everyone would do it

I’m a 21 year old male. I have considered the possibility of starting a career in fucking girls on the side while I study. I’d get sex from at least average looking young girls (I can choose my clients) and get payed. I wouldn’t have many clients or get any serious dough, but everything is a plus.

The only negative thing I can think of is how boys and girls would react to this if they got to know. Would I ever be able to get pussy from a girl if she knew I had worked as a “man whore”?

What would be the best possible use of words to describe male prostitution? Any advice regarding this topic is appreciated.

This email recalls a study I once read in which attractive men and women approached college-aged members of the opposite sex and asked if they wanted to fuck. Something like 99.9% of the women declined, and three quarters of the men readily agreed to the terms. A starker contrast of the biological differences between the sexes would be hard to find.

Getting from “the possibility of starting a career as a paid gigolo” to “actually having a career as a paid gigolo” is a challenge not to be underestimated. If the stories are true, most gigolos are physically fit gay men who service middle-aged housewives for cash and prizes. Sound like a fun lifestyle? Yeah, I suppose it could be if you ameliorate the disgust of boffing undesirables by having a hot girlfriend waiting at home for you after a long day’s work. But if you think that your job will be mostly getting paid in regular installments by hot young chicks of your choosing for the privilege of bouncing up and down on your cock, well… let’s just say your game would have to be tighter than a virgin’s rusty starfish to pull that off.

But I’m a generous man, so for the purposes of this post, I’ll take you at your word that you can pull this fantasy lifestyle no problem and that you aren’t a troll. To answer your questions, “boys and girls” would react with equal parts envy, consternation and curiosity. That’s a good combination of reactions to elicit from peers if banging and high social status are your goals. And not only would you still be able to pull pussy if word got out about your manwhoring, but you’d pull more than ever. As long as it wasn’t discovered you were a manwhore to rich elderly widows.

The best way to describe your job as a gigolo to potential dates is like this: “I bring happiness and joy to lonely housewives who have forgotten what it’s like to be loved and adored by a man.” Pass the Kleenex.

***

Email #5: Don’t leave us hanging

Just so you know, I ended up fucking Kristanna Loken, despite the fact that she just got engaged. If you want to know the story, let me know.

Why bother asking this question when you already know the answer? Of course, the readership would like to know how you bagged Kristanna Loken.*

*Judgment of trollery suspended until response received and plausibility analyzed.

***

Email #6: Hardcore asshole texting

Here’s a text message exchange between me (41) and a gold-digging girl (27, former “9” but now a “7” heading downward) who I struck out with and wrote off a month ago.  How would you critique my reaction?  You can publish it; I opened this e-mail account only to send this message.

Da fuck. I laughed reading this. It reads like an exasperated parent humoring a retarded child. There’s a game lesson there.

I’m confused about something, though. Did this emailer strike out before or after this text exchange? I’m trying to figure out if this text was successful in bringing her back into the fold, or if this is why he struck out with her. It seems from the nature of the texts that they have some familiarity with each other.

Anyhow, on a scale of effectiveness, I grade this text exchange a B-. It’s adequately cocky and dismissive, but the teasing comes across a little too strong-armed, almost nasty. The asshole needs to be leavened with a little more amused humor so that he doesn’t risk pushing her away by seeming unattainable or spiteful.

Also, and this is a relevant complaint, the ending of the text exchange sounds try-hard. Pushy. He lost his flirty edge there at the end. Yeah, he’s being cocky, but he’s also pushing harder for some kind of sexual resolution, and she isn’t biting. In fact, his barely concealed motive and slight vibe of anti-flirty gloominess (“I don’t love anyone at this hour”) triggers a series of shit tests from her (“ok, sorry! goodnite!”, “ok, tell her u need a bj!”, “yeah!”) which he does not properly handle. These last replies by her are not indicative of a woman in chaser mode; she is clearly back in the chased mode, and that is not a good mode for a girl to be in if you want to bang her.

The power trajectory shifted after his “I don’t love anyone at this hour” text. A better reply to her would have been:

TARDGIRL: So u don’t love me anymore? I was dreamin bout u baby!

HIM: I bet you were.

This opens the conversation up for more flirting and a possible fuck close.

Here’s a good rule of thumb about texting girls: your replies should get shorter, not longer, as the text conversation length increases. This way, you make it seem like you are investing less into the interaction as time passes, and she is investing more. The person who invests less receives more sexual dividends. In the emailer’s case, his text replies start off short (good) and end up longer than the girl’s (bad). It leaves the impression of frantically struggling at the end for that hail mary pass at sex.

But perhaps I’m splitting hairs. As text exchanges go, this one is better than 99% of the shit that betas mire themselves in. One shouldn’t let perfection be the enemy of good. If the emailer is reading, let us know if you managed to bang this mentally challenged chick. And if she swallowed.

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The Allure Of The Coy Man

It’s easier to judge men’s sexual interest than it is to judge women’s sexual interest.

Everyone Can Predict The Interest Level Of Men On A Date – But Not Of The Women With Them

When it comes to assessing the romantic playing field — who might be interested in whom — men and women were shown to be equally good at gauging men’s interest during an Indiana University study involving speed dating — and equally bad at judging women’s interest. […]

“The hardest-to-read women were being misperceived at a much higher rate than the hardest-to-read men. Those women were being flirtatious, but it turned out they weren’t interested at all,” said lead author Skyler Place, a doctoral student in IU’s Department of Psychological and Brain Sciences working with cognitive science Professor Peter Todd. “Nobody could really read what these deceptive females were doing, including other women.”  […]

“How people talk might convey more than what they say,” Place said.

Observers did not have to see much of this non-verbal behavior. They were just as good at predicting the speed-dating couple’s interest if they saw only 10 seconds of the date as they were if they saw 30 seconds. The researchers say this showed that observers, even with limited information, could make quick, accurate inferences using “thin slices” of behavior. […]

Evolutionary theory, said Place, predicts a certain level of coyness or even deceptiveness in women because if a relationship is abandoned they may face greater costs, including pregnancy and child rearing. When choosing a mate, it is in a woman’s best interest to get men to open up and talk honestly to give her a better idea of whether they would be good long-term partners.

“In a speed dating environment, you would expect to see these effects dramatically, with the women trying to get the men to be more straightforward, while they themselves remain more coy,” Place said.

Female coyness is an evolutionary adaptation that serves two important purposes; one, it pressures male suitors to be more forthcoming with personal information that could reveal their mate value (and male mate value is more complex than female mate value, which for the latter amounts to mostly how the woman looks), and two, it alters perception of a woman’s sexual fidelity. Coy women tend to be perceived by men as less slutty and therefore better long-term mate prospects who won’t cuckold them.

So that sly smile and subtle shit test tossed out over drinks in a cozy lounge are nothing more than a woman’s mental executions of ancient biological algorithms operating at the subconscious level. Romantic poetry and sweeping odes are man’s attempt to elevate this sordid and banal clanking of the machinery of genetic legacy beyond the realm of disappointment. Can you blame us for smearing lipstick on this pig?

So coyness is the natural state of woman. And informational overload the natural state of man. Men sell, women buy. Men market, women browse. This is the current that carries courtship over hormonally-tossed helical seas.

And yet game, in theory and in practice, teaches men to act opposite their natural instinct; to assume the role and the prerogative and the mindset of the woman in seductive affairs. In essence, to flip the script.

Flipping the script works. It works because women can’t resist a man who won’t tidily play by the established, and oh so boring, rules. A coy man — a man who is as circumspect and judgmental and inscrutable as women normally are at the beginning of a courtship — triggers women’s attraction, much like a woman’s firm round ass and pretty face triggers attraction in men. Male coyness — aka the art of insinuating you are the one being chased — is so odd, and so at adds with biological, not to mention social, norms, that women are compelled to chase the man who effectively adopts such a conceit. A woman thinks to herself, or rather she subthinks to herself (because these thoughts never really materialize fully into conscious awareness):

“This man is coy for a reason. What is he hiding? And how amazing is this part of him he’s hiding? He hasn’t asked a question of me yet. Does he like me or not? I can’t tell. He must have other lovers at his beck and call. I feel strangely intrigued. I need to know more.”

Once a woman is put in this chaser pattern, the seduction is yours to lose. She will be the one readily offering information about herself to win your approval, while you will lean back, literally and figuratively, judging her harshly. For it is true that every woman, despite her boilerplate blather to the contrary, secretly wants to be judged by a man. That’s how she knows you’re better than the rest.

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Cats And Dogs As Ego Emblems

Are our choice in pets a reflection of our sexual natures as they are or how we wish then to be? A reader:

Wanted to ask you – do you think it is typical for beta males to favor cats as pets and alpha males to favor dogs as pets?

I’m asking this because all nerdy looking, weak, lame and otherwise guys with beta characteristics usually prefer cats.

Internet is very popular of lulzcats and related shit for a reason – it’s because the nerds sit on the internet.

Somehow when you see real men, they are with a loyal and aggressive dog.

Your thoughts?

The greatest male players I’ve ever known had cats. Sleek, mysterious cats, not fluffy designer furrballs. The player who owns a cat — an animal which embodies many human female traits — is telling women that he is comfortable surrounded by feminine energy. He knows how to handle it. He prefers the challenge of women.

Generally, though, the power arc of man-pet complementarity follows your observation. Urban SWPL manginas and socially maladjusted nerdos are more open to owning cats, while conventional country boys and popular jocks tend to shun cat ownership, except for outdoor cats who spend most of their time out of sight, preying on rodents. And then there are noticeable trends in the types of dogs that men will own; gays, artists and upper class dandies preferring precious but useless runty pedigrees and the rest of men preferring big, healthy dogs with legs to run. It’s only at the rightmost tail of player seducers that you see the preference for dogs revert back to cats, owing partly to the fact that a man who spends so much time enjoying the pleasures of women has little left for walking dogs and scooping poop.

But the real contrast in pet ownership is intersex, not intrasex. Most men prefer the company of dogs, and most women prefer cats. While unmarried tomboys with dogs do exist, 9 out of 10 times the chick you date will own a cat, when she has a pet. SWPL chicks are almost universally cat people, though in recent years there has been a slight move toward more dog ownership among this set. There is a reason why the sexes have these preferences.

Pets are symbols of how we see ourselves, and how we would like to be seen. They are extensions of our egos. Dogs are loyal and potentially aggressive. Non-nerdy men who don’t lament their own phalluses love big dogs primarily because of those two reasons. The dog is a symbolic idolization of a man’s yearning for a woman’s uncompromising loyalty, as well as a projection of simmering, virile power. In the dog, the man sublimates the highest virtues of manhood, and his deepest need from womanhood.

Cats are a symbolic idolization of woman’s solipsism, and self-absorption. The mirror is the woman’s world, conceit her currency in trade, coyness and prerogative her highest values. In the cat, the woman sees reflected her own nature, that of the coy and inscrutable object of desire. The cat is thus a narcissistic celebration of her own womanliness.

The cat is smaller and less affectionate than the dog, and this smallness and aloofness feeds a woman’s need to nurture and pry for displays of love, much like a dog’s loyalty and obedience and ready affection feed a man’s need to be admired, to dominate and to enjoy unlimited and unconditional love.

For men, the only thing you need to know is this: while ownership of a big, loyal dog is a leading indicator of alpha maleness, the cat is the animal whose behavior you should mimic to seduce women. Acting like an affectionate, needy dog is beta. Acting like a mysterious, aloof cat is alpha. The primary purpose of owning a dog is training yourself for ownership of a woman.

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Comment Of The Week

William writes (in relation to the observation that asexual ghouls have a barely concealed hatred for “fuckhounds”):

It’s sad how society has beaten down male sexuality to the point where wanting sex is seen in the same light as being obsessed with sex.

Self-proclaimed (and self-celebrated) asexuals and feminists have a lot in common. The animating force for both is an intense loathing of male* desire.

*correction: straight male desire.

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Beta Of The Month: Asexual Purgatory

There are apparently asexuals among us. They claim they have no interest in sex, and it’s not a psychological coping mechanism for involuntary celibacy.

Jenni is one of the estimated 1% of people in the UK who identify themselves as asexual. Asexuality is described as an orientation, unlike celibacy which is a choice.

“People say ‘well if you’ve not tried it, then how do you know?'” says Jenni.

“Well if you’re straight have you tried having sex with somebody you know of the same sex as you? How do you know you wouldn’t enjoy that? You just know that if you’re not interested in it, you’re not interested in it, regardless of having tried it or not.”

I’m trying to picture how musty and cobwebbed her vagina must be. It’s probably fused shut at this point, kind of how the skin of morbidly obese corpses will fuse with the couches they died on. I wonder if she’s ever shoved anything up her puss to get off? If so, that would put the lie to her assertion that she has no desire for sex. More likely, she just fears and loathes male sexuality. I bet her nightmares consists of 3D penises raining down on her like ICBMs scarring the sky with cum contrails.

This is true of Jenni who is heteroromantic, and although having no interest in sex, is still attracted to people, and is in a relationship with 22-year-old Tim. Tim, however, is not asexual.

“A lot of people actually ask if I am being selfish and keeping him in a relationship that he won’t get anything he wants [from] and he should go and date somebody like him, but he seems quite happy, so I’d say I’d leave that up to him,” says Jenni.

Just when you thought the world couldn’t possibly have enough self-hating beta males willing to sacrifice a basic human need for the company of weirdo übercockteases. And is it my imagination, or is the ratio of white and asian beta to alpha getting more skewed every year? Welcome to Generation Puffboy.

Tim is enjoying spending time with and getting to know Jenni by focusing on the romantic aspects of their relationship.

It’s like compliment & cuddle, times one thousand. With no chance for redemption in sight.

“The first time that Jenni mentioned in conversation that she was asexual, my initial thought was ‘hmm that’s kind of odd’,” says Tim, “but then I did know enough not to make assumptions about what that meant.

What a mincing pissant. Tim, when a girl you met has told you that she doesn’t like sex and will never have sex, your first thought should’ve been “I just wasted thirty dates with this insufferable cocktease. How do I get away from her before my emasculation is total?” At the very least, return the favor by using her as a pawn to meet other girls.

[Tim]: “I have never been obsessed with sex. I’ve not been one to have to go out at night and have to have someone to have sex with, because that’s what people do… so I’m not all that concerned about it”.

One reason why betas allow themselves to be LFBFed and used as emotional tampons in perpetuity is that it relieves them of the stress of sacking up and busting a move. You could call it cockooning.

Jenni’s relationship with Tim does have a physical side, as they cuddle and kiss to express their affection for each other.

And there it is. Beta of the Month. Congratulations, Timmy, you sicken the world of normal men and inspire the pity of normal women. When you masturbate away all that pent-up energy, lay down a tarp with a ten yard clearance.

Asexuality has been the subject of very few scientific studies which has led to speculation about why some people feel no sexual attraction.

“There are people who definitely view it as a disorder and are like ‘oh if we give you these pills we can fix it’. Or people who ask you ‘have you had your hormones checked’, as though that’s the obvious solution,” says Jenni.

Maybe Jenni really is clinically asexual. Maybe her brain is missing a few synapses. I can abide that possibility. Or maybe, she feels no sexual attraction because all she dates are betas. In which case, one date with an insensitive jerk who isn’t an uuuuunderstanding wet noodle should clear her condition right up.

“And then you get people who go one step worse, and I have been asked before if I had been molested as a child, which is not an appropriate question to ask somebody to be honest, and also I haven’t been. It was the assumption that ‘hey you have something wrong with you, clearly you were molested as a child’ is just such a terrible attitude to have.”

This is the problem with the modern, equalist society: nothing is wrong with anything. Hey, sweetcheeks, there is something wrong with you. Evolutionarily speaking, there is something very wrong with you. Instead of demanding people pretend you’re normal, embrace your wrongness. Wear it proudly, you princess of deviancy, you queen of crazy.

Let’s have a look at the tense couple.

Now perhaps there’s a chance Timmy is getting some nookie on the side, when he’s away from this sexless cipher. That would mitigate his betaness somewhat. (Only somewhat, because every second with her is a second stripped from more fulfilling endeavors.) I doubt it, though. Look at his face. His pinched, “walk all over me” expression. This is a guy who nurses a secret hard-on every time she hugs him, then rushes home five hours later to drain himself into a couch crease. The least she could do, if sex isn’t her thing and she values his cuddly wuddlies, is give him a tug job to completion. But she never will, because, ultimately, chicks like her are selfish cunts. And when a selfish cunt meets a selfless dweeb, the penis loses.

BOTM: Timmy and his taunted testicles

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The Evisceration Of Penelope Trunk

You say evisceration, I say loving ministration.

Ah, Penelope Trunk. For some reason, she gives fellow aspie and open borders ivory tower bubbleboys chubbies, who can’t stop linking to her blog, (comments by “Dave” and “Anotherphil” are illuminating). But Chateau Heartiste called this broad out for the psycho, man-hating bitch she really is a long time ago. And how that judgment has been vindicated. Prescient? Nope. Just open-eyed observers of the human condition, coupled with a smattering of experience with these types of whipsaw women.

The latest Penelope Cunk dramafest comes courtesy of a post on her blog where she displays her wrinkled slate-flat cougar ass and her wretched uncaged id on national internet, complete with bruise she alleges was from her husband, who got sick and tired of her “look at me!” provocations and pushed her into a bedpost out of frustration.

The Farmer told me that he will not beat me up any more if I do not make him stay up late talking to me.

If you asked him why he is still being violent to me, he would tell you that I’m impossible to live with. That I never stop talking. That I never leave him alone. How he can’t get any peace and quiet in his own house. That’s what he’d tell you.

Translation: Penelope Trunk berates, nags, pesters, humiliates, shrieks and wails at her husband at ungodly hours of the night and throughout the day, and he responds, in piques of frustration abetted by his normal male propensity to avoid extended verbal fights with no ending or solution in sight, by physically stifling her to make the unbearable shrew torrent stop.

What feminists either don’t understand or don’t wish to understand is that a nontrivial amount of physical domestic abuse is in response to non-physical provocation. For every action there is a reaction. Women abuse men psychologically because that is where their strength lies, and fortunately for them the marks made by psychological abuse are less photogenic than the marks made by bedposts. So women, in addition to being the beneficiaries of the ancient biological force that subconsciously deems the female of the sex a more valuable commodity than the male, get to enjoy the sympathy of the bovine crowd when they post jpegs of their thigh bruises.

These volatile domestic scenarios are almost never one way streets. Look at Rihanna. Chris Brown is a violent thug, but Rihanna could have easily avoided his flying fists of fury had she just stayed the fuck away from him. And yet, she couldn’t do that. She *still* can’t do that, in fact, and in returning to him to shower him with her love rewards his shitty behavior. Penelope Trunk does something similar with her Farmer hubby, but takes it a step further; she instigates his flashes of anger and desperation purposefully to get a rise out of him, so that she can avoid feeling abandoned. Or whatever the fuck it is she missed out on from daddy.

When guys talk about crazy bitches to stay the fuck away from, Penelope Trunk is Exhibit A.

Now don’t get me wrong. These kinds of women have some use: they are great in bed. Gung-ho master class fucktoys who’ll take it up the poop chute and lick you clean if it means you’ll gaze deeply into her eyes just a little longer. But that’s where it ends. Save your love and commitment for the relatively sane chicks. You give your heart to a drama queen and attention whore like Penelope Trunk and you are asking for a world of emotional torment if you don’t know anything about the proper handling and care of such spaztastic specimens. Because when the screaming and crying and berating don’t work, she’ll step it up to openly flirting with other men in front of you, and then to cheating and leaving clues for you to find out about it, and finally to resorting to insane outbursts to get her hamster fix.

And you will never experience such roided up, coked up, caffeinated hamsters in your life. These critters are unstoppable.

My edumacated guess is that Penelope Trunk’s husband is a beta male at heart who has no clue about women, and even less clue about women like Trunk. He was smitten by her willingness to screw early and often, and her slender proportions, while well past prime attractiveness, compared favorably to the lumbering middle-aged cows on his horizon and put the boner in his pants for the first time in years. Being a man of little breadth of experience with women and zero game or state control, he was easy prey for Trunk’s urbane sadomasochism. She takes advantage of his rustic beta ignorance and naivete and pushes him to the brink as often as she can get away with it, while enjoying the thrill of refueling her ostentatious craving for coerced, theatrical displays of love and a relationship perpetually teetering on the precipice of doom. He, being a salt of the earth kinda guy, has no idea what he got himself into, and his instinct to control an out of control situation impels him to lean on the one defensive maneuver that worked in the past and which rises naturally from the contours of his male brain: his showstopper physical will to power. Of course, the solution is always temporary, and the cycle repeats. Which is exactly how she wants it. And she gets it.

I love a good pile-on as much as the next sadist, so here’s an ego shredding, soul killing, demonic diagnosis worthy of a Chateau Hall of Fame nomination, from a naughty little bastard called The Last Psychiatrist.

Penelope Trunk has a history of sexual abuse by her father.  She has a pattern of intense, unstable relationships; a history of self-cutting, bulimia; is emotionally labile and reactive; and her primary defense mechanism is pretty obviously splitting, i.e. things are all good or they are all bad.

Trunk says she has Asperger’s, and maybe she does, but what I’ve described is “borderline personality disorder.”  BPD is not a description of behavior exactly, it is a description of an adaptive coping strategy.  In other words, people persist with BPD because it works. […]

Knock down fights and great make up sex is psychologically more fulfilling than a normal, calm, low-affect marriage.  Mind numbing jealousy is preferable to being 100% sure of their fidelity, to the point that it will actually be invented.  “Are you just looking for things to be upset about?”  The answer is yes. […]

Nothing is to be gained by saying her husband abuses her, which he does, but nothing is to be gained from saying that unless he’s listening.   She is abusing herself.  I’m not judging her, I’m not saying she is bad or that I don’t understand it, but she’s setting up, well, a pattern of intense, unstable relationships because she needs the intensity and will thus tolerate the unstability.  A relationship isn’t one sided, or bi-directional, it’s a dialectic.  They are very much in it together.

A worthy flaying. Borderline personality disorder is the scientific term for attention whoring, although not all attention whores are BPD victims. Every woman has the seed of an attention whore in her, as it is the caprice of their sex, but some women, women like Trunk, through a combination of genetic enhanced femaleness and environmental instability during the formative years, become raging monsters of insatiable egos with no self-awareness or cultivated sense of modesty.

And here’s the catch. What the Last Psychiatrist describes as a deranged personality imperfection is just the normal female psychology amped up to unsustainable levels of estrogenic insanity. Women really do like a little — or a lot, for some women — uncertainty in their relationships. This is a scientifically as well as observationally settled fact. It is the natural female inclination to swoon and tingle for men who offer doses of delightful discomfort. This inclination, it should be noted, is stronger in younger, prettier girls for whom the option to act out in this way without consequence is readily available.

The Last Psychiatrist has to know that this predilection for drama, affect and uncertainty is primarily a female affliction, and, in small manageable doses, is actually the normal state of emotional functioning for the majority of women. Hamster spinning wackos with advanced cases of BPD like Trunk are extreme manifestations of this innate female condition, much like power hungry sociopaths are the extreme manifestation of the innate male predisposition to maximize status. TLP is right to highlight Trunk’s disease of the id, but he should not be tempted to think that Trunk is a wholly alien representative of the female sex.

Trunk is, to put it mildly, a hyperfemale.

But, alas, the wall looms for hyperfemales as surely as it does for emotionally grounded women. The attention whoring that provoked so much reaction from men when she was younger elicits nothing but indifference at best and contemptuous pity at worst from men when she is older and uglier. TLP:

The thing is, BPD “works” when you are young, there are always people around to tolerate it.  Parents, boyfriend/girlfriend, employers, etc– and being pretty, which Trunk obviously is, helps a lot.  This doesn’t mean people are necessarily nice to her, or that she’s happy; only that  “crazy” behavior is more tolerable to other people when you are young.

The problem for her is she’s not getting any younger, and like it or not the only one who will put up with a 60 year old borderline is no one.  Except maybe the kids, which we will get back to.

Once women start experiencing the consequences of their flighty behavior from getting older and invisible to men, the smart ones among them adjust their expectations, emotional indulgences and demands accordingly. Penelope Trunk, thanks to the sycophantic chorus of her careerist fembot and scrap-begging mangina readers, will likely continue her coyote ugly act on into perpetuity, winding up alone and unloved by anyone but her imagination and bug-eyed omega commenter nerds desperate for human contact. If she hasn’t burned too many bridges and was effective at concealing her complicity in her personal calamities, then she may retain the love of her kids into dotage. That’s a big if. More likely, the kids will slowly realize what a loon she is, and will withdraw their love until they feel safe from entanglement in her manufactured crises.

There is an easy, convenient way to deal with BPD attention whores that won’t get you socially ostracized or locked up. If I had the ear of Trunk’s husband, I’d tell him this. Instilling a dab of dread — a phone call, say, from a location where she can hear the voices of laughing women in the background — would go a long way to satisfying the drama-feeding maw of Trunk’s vagina-shaped id. No blog-fodder bruises required. At the very least, such knowledge can give him more options in women, freeing him from his desperate, fearful clinging to a visually stimulating BPD headcase.

I’ve said it before. Game can save lives. This is not hyperbole. This is goddamned truth.

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