Science Continues Validating CH Reductionism

As I’ve been saying all along, female beauty is objectively measurable and not a function of the beholder’s eye.

The distance between a woman’s eyes and the distance between her eyes and her mouth are key factors in determining how attractive she is to others, according to new psychology research from the University of California, San Diego and the University of Toronto. […]

They discovered two “golden ratios,” one for length and one for width. Female faces were judged more attractive when the vertical distance between their eyes and the mouth was approximately 36 percent of the face’s length, and the horizontal distance between their eyes was approximately 46 percent of the face’s width.

“We already know that different facial features make a female face attractive – large eyes, for example, or full lips,” said Lee, a professor at University of Toronto and the director of the Institute of Child Study at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education. “Our study conclusively proves that the structure of faces – the relation between our face contour and the eyes, mouth and nose – also contributes to our perception of facial attractiveness.”

Just think how many wars, inventions, poems, novels, symphonies were created because some woman’s facial bone structure developed a few millimeters in a pleasing direction.

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Ogling voluptuous women will help a man stay healthy.

A rather bizarre study carried out by German researchers suggests that staring at women’s breasts is good for men’s health and increases their life expectancy.

According to Dr. Karen Weatherby, a gerontologist and author of the study, gawking at women’s breasts is a healthy practice, almost at par with an intense exercise regime, that prolongs the lifespan of a man by five years.

She added, “Just 10 minutes of staring at the charms of a well-endowed female, is roughly equivalent to a 30-minute aerobics work-out.”

I like looking, but fondling is my preferred method of interaction. This probably explains why titty bars have never held my interest for very long. I’ve got to have and to hold the goods.

If 10 minutes of staring at big round tits is equivalent to a 30 minute jog, what does one hour of titty fucking equal? A triathlon?

In addition, she also recommended that men over 40 should gaze at larger breasts daily for 10 minutes.

If you’re an alpha, you are free to gaze for 30 minutes, directly at the boobs and without blinking. Omegas must avert their eyes immediately, and their brief glance must be sidelong and then quickly evaporate under a burn of shame.

***

It’s funny when tired, hoary platitudes crumble. Guess what? You CAN judge a book by its cover.

Observers were able to accurately judge some aspects of a stranger’s personality from looking at photographs, according to a study in the current issue of Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin (PSBP), the official monthly journal of the Society for Personality and Social Psychology. Self-esteem, ratings of extraversion and religiosity were correctly judged from physical appearance.

Researchers asked participants to assess the personalities of strangers based first on a photograph posed to the researchers’ specifications and then on a photograph posed the way the subject chose. Those judgments were then compared with how the person and acquaintances rated that individual’s personality. They found that while both poses provided participants with accurate cues about personality, the spontaneous pose showed more insight, including about the subject’s agreeableness, emotional stability, openness, likability, and loneliness.

The study suggested that physical appearance alone can send signals about their true personality.

“As we predicted, physical appearance serves as a channel through which personality is manifested,” write authors Laura P. Naumann, University of California, Berkeley, Simine Vazire, Washington University in St. Louis, Peter J. Rentfrow, University of Cambridge, Samuel D. Gosling,University of Texas at Austin. “By using full-body photographs and examining a broad range of traits, we identified domains of accuracy that have been overlooked, leading to the conclusion that physical appearance may play a more important role in personality judgment than previously thought.”

Living in the city has honed my threat detection system. I can, with a split second scan of a stranger’s face, tell you with better than random accuracy the character of that person. This has aided me when walking back from lovers’ apartments at 2 AM through vibrant neighborhoods.

I don’t think I need to tell you the significance of this study with regards to alpha body language and game.

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Why 99.9% of history’s accomplishments have been achieved by men:

Researchers using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to study brain activation have found that men and women respond differently to positive and negative stimuli, according to a study presented today at the annual meeting of theRadiological Society of North America (RSNA).

“Men may direct more attention to sensory aspects of emotional stimuli and tend to process them in terms of implications for required action, whereas women direct more attention to the feelings engendered by emotional stimuli,” said Andrzej Urbanik, M.D., Ph.D., chair of Radiology at Jagiellonian University Hospital in Krakow, Poland.

Like a little fifteen year old girl, defending her feelings inside.

How does that old saying go? Men win the argument to win the group. Women win the group to win the argument. Which preference is more likely to lead one away from the truth? I’ve said it before: Suffrage is the poison pill that eventually destroys the body politic of a nation.

PS: There were two obscure pop culture references in this post. Can you find them?

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The Ideal Lover Can Never Be The Great Boyfriend

Men are burdened with a duality. We feel impelled to commit to a chaste woman but we will happily sleep around with raging sluts. Women, too, are creatures of duality. They relish the emotional connection with the great boyfriend who dotes on them and pampers them but they succumb helplessly to their raw sexuality with the ideal lover. The god of biomechanics is, if nothing else, a practical joker.

There are very few men who embody both the great boyfriend and the ideal lover in equal measure. In fact, my experience in the trenches of modern decadence leads me to conclude there are NO men like this. 50/50 internal power sharing between lover and supporter, manifestly expressed in perfect synchronicity with a woman’s unspoken needs for the one or the other masculine archetype, is the myth of “the One” perpetuated by the feminist grievance industry to keep women unsatisfied and constantly searching. The truth is that most men, by innate character, lean one way, and a few men of purity wholly abandon their soul’s struggle and jettison one archetype to fully embrace its opposite.

How do you know if you are closer in character to the ideal lover or to the great boyfriend? To answer this for yourself, consider the following scenarios, and then decide if they accurately describe how you would behave in your own life.

• Holiday shopping (Kwanzaa not included)

The great boyfriend thinks of the gifts he will buy others before he thinks of himself. His time shopping is spent with a gentle smile envisioning the look on his lover’s face when she sees what he bought for her.

The ideal lover thinks of all the fantastic shit he will buy for himself before he thinks of others. His time shopping is spent with a joyous grin perusing the electronics section, and only after he has sat in the massage chair at Brookstones for a while does he put in a token effort to find reasonably acceptable gifts for his girlfriend.

• Family

The great boyfriend showers affection on his family. He is especially affectionate with little nieces and nephews.

The ideal lover is either fighting or drinking with his family. He is the first to teach his little nephew how to flip the bird and what it means.

• Sex

The great boyfriend is a master of foreplay and delaying his own gratification. He is a slow and steady lovemaker. The look of surrender on his woman’s face during orgasm brings him almost as much pleasure as his own climax. Sex is often preceded by the lighting of scented candles and the playing of soft jazz.

The ideal lover is selfish in bed. He may eat his woman out for an eternity one night while hurting her anally another night, slowly grind into her missionary style or jackhammer her like a rutting cape buffalo, but always know that everything he does sexually to her is in service to his penis. He will often not know nor care if she came, and what usually precedes sex is a rough hand up her skirt.

• Compassion

The great boyfriend will listen intently when his girl has had a bad day, careful not to brusquely offer any pointed suggestions to alleviate her sadness, instead opting to massage her shoulders and make her some soup.

The ideal lover will attempt to take his girl’s mind off her worries with hot sex. It will usually work.

• Values

The great boyfriend appreciates his girlfriend’s values, and this is reflected in his mature respect for her political views, even when he disagrees.

The ideal lover only cares for one value — his lover’s commitment to the righteousness of sexual abandon. He’s apolitical as far as she knows, because he’s very good at mentally dismissing her silly political beliefs as the earnest naivete of an unworldly little girl.

• Compatibility

The great boyfriend understands that much of what makes a relationship successful are shared goals and interests. He loves spending time with his lover doing things they both enjoy, and he will put in the extra effort to learn about those things she likes to do but which he is either unfamiliar or uninterested. For instance, if she likes tango dancing but he’d rather play pool, he’ll spend a night or two attending tango classes with her and making her feel worth his sacrifice.

The ideal lover understands that what makes a relationship successful is not spending too much time together. Quality over quantity, and in his world the best measure of quality is how often intercourse is happening. He will occasionally treat his lover to romantic nights out, but when she wants him to join her on her trip to Antartica he’ll stroke her cheek lovingly and tell her to have a good time by herself.

These examples should give you an idea where on the testicular spectrum you fall. Are you a Latin lover or a loving partner? Like I said, most men lean one way or the other, a few embrace an extreme, and only Master Casanovas balance their dual essence so evenly that their women are always breathlessly infatuated with them.

The men who have complete command over their women are the men who intuitively know when to disarm with the tender ministrations of the great boyfriend or the lustful recklessness of the ideal lover. When you are aware of this ever present immutable female desire for dualing male archetypes, you will find it that much easier to direct a woman’s emotions, like Mozart conducting a symphony. A woman’s loyalty is as much a function of your ability to seduce it out of her as it is of her character.

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The Tiger Woods Effect

It’s been said that when Tiger Woods is dominating on the fairway his opponents lose their composure and begin piling up the bogies. An analogy could be made to relationships. The greater the dating market value disparity between two people the more likely the partner with less power will lose composure at the slightest threat of loss. Another way of saying this: The partner with less hand is more emotionally invested in the relationship.

Tiger Woods may be a goofy looking guy but have no doubt — millions of hot women the world over would love to bang him. This means whichever woman lucks out in the marital lotto with Tiger is automatically the partner with zero emotional hand. (Financial hand is another matter. Thanks to insane anti-male divorce laws a world-beating alpha male like Tiger Woods can be brought to his knees by a single throwaway lantern-jawed blonde like Elin Nordegren.) Nordegren has little hand being married to Tiger and her hindbrain knows this, which is why she went psycho on him when she presumably suspected him of cheating and chased him down with the long iron.

The Tiger Woods Effect works in either direction. Look back on your own dating career. With which women did you behave in the most wretchedly beta manner? The hot ones, right? It’s usually the women who are relatively significantly higher in dating market value who will cause a man to forget everything he’s learned about women and throw alpha to the wind as he begs pleads and cajoles her for more love. Let’s say you are a 6 and your girlfriend is a 9. How long do you think it’s going to be before you’re writing her sappy poems and buying her flowers? Two dates?

Similarly, if you’re a girl who’s dating Tiger Woods and you catch him throwing a flirty glance at a waitress, you might do something crazy like this. (Thanks to Justin for the pointer. My readers always come through with great links.)

I believe it’s a good idea for men to get practice dominating a woman so fully she loses all dignity around him. Date at least one woman who is lower than you in dating market value and watch with wonder how little effort you have to put into the relationship. This will instill you with the right attitudes to have with the hotter women you truly wish to date — namely, aloofness, carelessness and selfishness.

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How Game Changes For The Mature Player

The biggest change you can expect as an older player gaming girls is this:

Don’t expect approach invitations.

Because of the economics of the sexual market, (which mechanism is amplified in the anonymous urban steambaths), as you get older than the average age of the competition in the typical bar scene you are going to have to mentally adjust to receiving fewer flirtatious looks from girls. You won’t be able to rely on female approach invitations (AIs) — in the form of shy glances, licked lips, coy smiles, or even bold icebreakers — as often as you did when you were not more than five to ten years older than the girls you were fucking.

This does not mean your days of pickup are over.

All it means is that you will have to be bolder in approaching girls who haven’t given you signals to approach them. Ironically, this could very well result in an explosion in your game success, because of two reasons: One, females favor the bold (and what is bolder than a man who hits on a woman like a thunderbolt from the sky?), and two, cold approaches minus the AI primer require a higher level of game skill.

Men who aren’t accustomed to approaching women without first receiving a flirty cue from them are going to be the ones stranded in confusion when they get older than the most desirable demographic of women (ages 15 – 25) that they chase. If a man habitually relies on an AI before making a move on a girl, then he will lock up in fear when forced to contemplate approaching a girl who hasn’t noticed him. No matter how good his game, all his knowledge will be useless because he won’t be able to hurdle that initial obstacle of hitting on a girl who is ice cold to his advances.

In fact, this is the primary problem I observe with the majority of men who discover game. They go to great lengths to learn incredibly effective game tactics like raising a girl’s buying temperature, coaxing her through compliance hoops, and logistically managing the pickup, only to limit their approaches — out of fear or cowardice or expedience — to girls who have given them the green light with a flirty glance. These men are not truly being tested; they are running what I call “Fuckup Avoidance Game” (FAG), which is running “good enough” game on a girl who initially cued her attraction for him and will go to bed with him as long as he doesn’t say or do anything too beta.

FAG game is great to run when you are a good looking guy in your prime, but if all you have is FAG game then expect your success to abandon you when your courage is really tested by women who aren’t making the approach easy for you. I think it’s amazing to see a Mystery in his prime running tight game and scoring threesomes with 8s and above as his feather boa tickles their faces, but my real, deep respect is reserved for those men who don’t have the crutch of flirty female AIs to help ease them into their pickup routines, and must instead rely on sheer daring and determination along with their repertoire of game skills to get the girl.

The day will come when few of your pickup attempts will be lubed with the prologue of a movie moment exchange of shy, flirty glances. When that day comes, you had better have sufficiently trained your balls to sack up for REAL cold approaches — the kind that will stop your heart if you take two seconds too long to ponder them, but will make your success that much sweeter.

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The Ultimate Shit Test: Marriage

Reader “T.A.” sent me the following email:

******

I’ll be brief – I’m a fan. Game has made my marriage palatable, and I thank you and the rest of the community for that. However, I wanted to submit a sort of “public service announcement” to the community. Hopefully so men everywhere can avoid the mistake I made. Do with this what you wish, but hopefully you’ll post it:

————————————————————————————————————————
I’m like alot of men – probably safe to say “most” men. I’m 35. I’m a handsome fellow. I’m reasonably successful. I’m fit – probably more fit than I should be at my age – due to years of pent up frustration released on various pieces of innocent gym equipment and “recreational” 5Ks. You would probably look at me if you passed me and my family on the street and think I’ve got my shit together. I’ve got a pretty, fit wife who wears stylish clothes, and I’ve got two gorgeous sons.

You’d probably think that I’m a happy man – or at least that I SHOULD be a happy man. You’d be wrong.

I’ve spent countless hours thinking about the uninspired, passionless albatross of a marriage that constantly tugs at my neck. Countless hours thinking about how incredible it would be to actually get to use my dick more than a couple of times a year. Countless hours spent lamenting my shitty marriage with my equally miserable married buddies. I’ve thought about divorce a dozen times, but social pressures and family expectations have always held me back (“grow up – sex isn’t that important!” “but you’ve got such a lovely family!” etc.). I lived in a constant state of crisis for years until one day an old friend of mine introduced me to the CHsphere.

I’ve DEVOURED all manner of PUA/MRA/CHganda with the appetite of a starved child. And I’ve come to some startling conclusions.

I won’t waste too much of your time with my personal story (trust me, it is completely interchangeable with any one of millions of men’s in this country). But I have come away with one priceless gem that I believe all men MUST be made aware of. It’s as common as a McMansion in an outlying suburb, yet its as powerful and menacing a beast as any you’ll ever encounter:

BEWARE the classic gun-to-the-head marriage pressure administered by your typical non-descript, rudderless late 20’s/early 30’s woman.

When a woman pressures you mercilessly to marry her, bullying to the point of threatening a break up – this is the shit test of ALL shit tests. Treat it as such – If you fail this shit test, you are RUINED. FOR…LIFE..

For those of you who haven’t lived through it, let me go through the script:

You’ll meet a girl. She’ll seem perfect in a lot of ways. Not only will you get to hang out with your friends whenever you want, go out to bars with your buds, etc. but she’ll encourage it. And she’ll have her own life and she’ll go out with her friends. She’ll be game for the booty call, and she’ll do filthy things in your bed (and out of your bed). She’ll fuck in public bathrooms, she’ll fuck you and blow you in cars. She’ll bend over willingly and she might even swallow. Nothing will be off limits, sexually, and she’ll wake up your neighbors proclaiming how much she loves to get fucked by you.

She’ll watch football with you, maybe even become a fan of your team. She’ll watch movies with you that you know she hates, and she’ll do it with minimal whining. She’ll cook you special meals, pick up random gifts, and generally be a perfect girlfriend. You can leave her to pay the check, shrug at her requests for attention and affection, blow off her birthday, and generally just live a normal bachelor life but with the added benefit of having a consistent and exciting lay.

Then one day it will all come to a screeching halt.

I’m not quite sure what causes it – I suspect its a “special” night out with her yenta friends. A night spent drinking and dreaming about designer wedding dresses, champagne flutes, Pottery Barn registries, and giant rocks. Whatever the case, sooner or later they end up muttering to each other how unbelievable it is that their boyfriend hasn’t popped the question and made the self-absorbed dream that they’ve held dear since they were a little girl into an expensive and soul-sucking reality. They might even become hostile – proclaiming what a “waste of time” it is to date this horrible creature who is so selfish that he’s denying them a $50k masturbatory spectacle that benefits no one but them, and a subsequent life of enslavement and misery. Things will get desperate, and you’ll start seeing the signs.

There will be inexplicable weeping at inopportune times. Cold shoulders for no apparent reason. Sex will dry…up. Blow jobs will be something you only see in pornos. Hints at marriage will drop like snowflakes at first – then like a barrage of hail. Any resistance to the wedding yap will incite riots of rage and tears, and screams of “if you loved me you’d want to marry me!!” and “why am I wasting my time with you?!!”

This is the beginning of the end, my friend. And you should fucking RUN…LIKE…HELL!

You see, there is no winning this fight. I know – I tried. But there is no victory – and there sure as shit are no spoils. I know what you’ll be thinking: “I don’t really want to break up yet – maybe its time to settle down?” and “surely the sex will resume once we get over this hump and get married?” You’ll start wistfully looking at little kids on the street, thinking “maybe I’d make a cool dad?” and “I’m not gittin any younger – maybe this is for the best.” You’ll fall prey to the oldest trick in the book – thinking that things will get “better” if you just cave to this, the queen of all shit tests.

Listen to me – things will not get better. I didn’t really understand at first, but after becoming part of this community, I understand it all perfectly now. Things will not only NOT get better, but they will get much, MUCH worse. EXPONENTIALLY WORSE. To degrees that you cannot imagine. Think that you’ll start having sex again after buying that ridiculous fucking rock? Dream on – it gets WORSE. You’ll be lucky to get laid on your birthday from now on. And when you do get laid it will SUCK. The term “doggystyle” will be like a fucking cuss word in your house. Anything cool and interesting that ever happened in your bedroom will be a long lost memory.

Think your girl will relish her role as wife and cook you up a nice meal from time to time? Fuck that – get used to picking up fast food and frozen dinners. That is, unless you like to cook yourself or take it upon yourself to maintain a healthy diet – in this case, welcome to the role of homemaker, you beta pussy. And you better not have the audacity to leave it up to the Mrs. to plan/cook a meal. You’re on the hook now.

Oh and you’ve still got all of the “man duties” too, didn’t you know? Make sure the oil in BOTH cars is changed, make sure all of the tires are inflated. Want to sit on the couch and watch the game? Fuck you! Cut the grass. And pay the bills when you’re done. Mama needs to go shopping with the girls. Because hey, maybe if she buys herself something nice from time to time (and by “from time to time” I mean “increasingly” until she’s buying EXPENSIVE shit every other day) she’ll be happy again and you guys can get to fuckin again, right?

Wrong. Its over dude. You’re on a sharp, downward beta-slide that will just make her more and more revolted by the day. It was over before you started.

See, if you fail this shit test, you have failed every…single CH tenet in one fell swoop. Worse, your girl is going to have a front row seat to this total and complete collapse of your manhood. She’s gonna watch it in what seems like slow motion – like witnessing the carnage of some kind of disgusting ten car pileup where gas and steel and body parts are spewed out in a violent ballet of carnage. And make no mistake – she will be sickened. She will have to hold back the vomit upon witnessing your more-beta-than-beta act of total surrender. And your dick will be as appealing to her as a fresh turd. You will be completely and permanently doomed from that day forward, and your sex appeal will hit negative digits.

It has a sad sort of snowball effect – you’ll think that the more sensitive, caring and compassionate you become, the more she’ll reward you. But all it does is make you more beta – more repellent. She’ll hate you more by the day, and she’ll mask it less and less.

Whatever you do with your life, to whatever degree you practice game, if you remember one single thing from any of these blogs, remember this – you MUST pass the Marry-Me-Or-Else shit test. Your future depends on it. Its basically like someone holding open the door to a prison cell and cheerfully inviting you in. There’s no earthly reason for you to EVER step into that cell, and ultimately they will HATE you for getting in that cell. Not only that, but they’ll lift up their skirts and get fucked by some bad boy outside that cell – right where you can watch but are powerless to intervene. Its a cruel, beta joke and they know it. Turn it back on them – just say “NO.” The world needs another yenta wife like it needs another stinking landfill.

******

I’ve had a few instances where the girl I was dating began pressuring me for marriage. What did I do? I walked. And I will probably walk again. If a lover told me “marry me or else” I would choose “else”. I would inform her that I don’t heed ultimatums, for that road leads to soul death.

Only weak betas cave at the first hint of pressure. Fear motivates their decisions. The fear of being alone, the fear of going sexless. This fear is mostly a phantom. Remember, gentlemen, no matter how badly the dating market skews against your interests, no matter how much your woman withholds sex, no matter how deviously she threatens to leave you if she doesn’t get the ring, you hold the trump card, the dick detonator, the MOAB in the eternal battle of the sexes — you can walk away, forever.

Exercise your right to walk.

Once you’ve walked you might be surprised to see her come running back to you, suitably chastened.

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Ugly People Made Me An Atheist

Sometimes, dark ominous thoughts intrude, and a feeling of utter hopelessness overwhelms me. I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, fearing that god may exist, and that I will be punished in eternal hellfire for my many, many, MANY years of sinning.

And then I see people like these…

…and a wave of relief sweeps over me as I happily reaffirm that god does not exist, and I am free to go on sinning without worry.

Made in his image, indeed. I wonder if game would help these guys?

(Hat tip: el chief, for pointers to the omegas among us.)

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The Lie Of Locking Her In

It’s a nagging crescendo in my ear. Family is saying it, friends are hinting it: When are you going to settle down? Usually the words they use are along the lines of “Is she the one? You should think about sticking it out with this one. Do you want to be alone the rest of your life? Do you think you can play the field forever?”

Yes, I think I can play the field forever.

Why do people balk at those who choose the lifestyle of the love mercenary, of the wanderlust warrior? Envy, mostly. Sincere concern, rarely. These voices — social pressure that sows self-doubt — will influence most men. Very few men have the fortitude to live the life of Oswald Hendryks Cornelius. Marriage, and probable divorce, is in the cards for most men.

Why do men bother to get married? There’s really nothing in it for them. All that marriage offers a man can be had in a loving, long term relationship. So why? These are the best reasons rationalizations I can think of:

• I have to lock her in because the snatch must flow.

As any dead-eyed married man will tell you, the sex is always hottest until that first bite of wedding cake. Sure, marriage might mean fewer extended dry spells, and a more consistent output of pussy, but the quality of that output is going to take a nosedive.

Fact: Once in a secure relationship (and nothing is more secure for a woman than marriage — the law sees to that) a woman’s sex drive plummets. If you like your girl to move around a bit in bed and actually, you know, enjoy getting jackhammered by your beefy breach, marriage will see to it that she reads a trashy romance novel and sighs with boredom while asking “you done yet, honey?” while you huff and puff your way to another anti-climactic climax.

Fact: Women pack on the pounds after getting married. What good is consistent sex if it’s with a hippo? No wonder so many married men sneak away in the middle of the night to jack off to internet porn.

Fact: Your wife’s pussy will always be the same. Yep, one year, five years, ten years — that pussy looking back at you is like an old, very old, friend — that you no longer want to have sex with. Familiarity breeds contempt. When you’ve memorized the length and location of every pube and the droop of labia draggle, you’re going to ache for fresh meat. For men, variety is the spice of life. If older men maintained the libido of their younger selves you’d see extramarital affairs shoot through the roof.

• If I don’t marry her, she’ll leave me. And then I’ll be alone.

There are two things wrong with this reasoning. One, if you don’t have the confidence to score another woman in case of a break-up, then you don’t have the confidence to keep your current girlfriend attracted to you. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Think you’ll be alone, then you will be alone, even when you’re not. Or: Fear is the mindkiller.

Two, marriage is no insurance policy against being unceremoniously dumped. Maybe it was at one time, but not anymore. A woman loses NOTHING that can compare to what you will lose if she decides to divorce you. Worse, in 2009 America there is every incentive in the world for a woman to divorce at the slightest drop in her attraction for her husband. Financial, legal, social, sometimes even sexual. The god of biomechanics does not take a holiday from reality once you slip a ring on your beloved’s finger.

• I might not do better.

Sure, but then you could lament the same thing in non-marital relationships. Look at your LTR. You might not do better. Look at your fling. You might not do better. Look at your fuckbuddy. You might not do better. Look at that old pic of your college sweetheart. You might not do better.

So… how is marriage going to save you from this fear-induced soul searching? It’s not. If anything, marriage is only going to rub your face in your testicular impotence. If your wife thinks you can’t do better, she’ll begin to treat you like women treat every man who can’t do better — shittily. Except now, she’s got the long arm of the marital law on her side, so you don’t even have the option to find out if you can do better without taking a world class ramming up the ass. As bad as dry spells are, they’re even worse when the pussy you used to tap has closed up shop and taunts you nightly from across the bed.

• She’ll stop loving me if I don’t marry her.

Assbackwards. Women don’t stop loving men for any reason except one — he turned beta. What about cheaters? Nope. Talk to women about their most cherished loves. You’ll notice something. Scorned women harbor their deepest love for the men who gutted their hearts. Not marrying her is more likely to have the opposite effect; the more you resist, the stronger her love for you.

Sure, some women do eventually leave men when it becomes clear to them that they aren’t going to propose. But that’s not the same as losing love for those men.

• She’ll never agree to a non-marital long term relationship.

You’d be surprised how quickly women will agree to your terms when you have her gina tingle on lockdown. And if she doesn’t agree? Find yourself a woman who does. The mere threat of leaving her over this issue will often be enough to bring her around to your way of thinking.

• I’ll just get married when I’m older. Late marriages have a lower divorce rate.

The reason younger marriages fail more often than marriages later in life is because younger people in their 20s have more options in the sexual market. Options = instability.

But don’t crow about the benefits of later marriages. For one, older women don’t have as many prime fertile years left in which to bear children. Two, later marriages often feel more like business propositions than ecstatic vows of love. That is not a good thing.

• I’ll live longer as a married man.

Leaving aside that this statistic may be more myth than reality, what benefit is it to you to live a few extra years shuffling along painfully in well-worn slippers and gazing longingly outside windows at youth frolicking with the joy of health and vigor? My take on getting older: It’s immortality or bust.

• It’s the right thing to do.

Right thing? I don’t give a shit. Good man? Fuck you! Go home and play with your pud. You wanna good life — don’t close! You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this, how can you take the abuse you get in divorce proceedings?

• It’s good for society.

You’re right, it is. But since when did society give a fuck about you?

• But I really love her.

Did you not really love her before you dropped to one knee?

• I want to have kids.

This might be the only halfway acceptable reason to get married. If you want the best for your kids, raising them in a broken home is not the way to do it. But even here, women have the upper hand. No matter how much you love your kids, if a divorce happens (50% chance, 70+% chance the wife initiates it) you are going to be paying child support for the new lingerie your ex-wife buys to sexually please her blogger lover.

I don’t see how any man could want kids, though. Kids are a complete fun suck. They don’t get enjoyable until ages 11-13, after they’ve evolved from bratty ingrates and before they’ve turned into brooding ingrates. If men would think long and hard about kids, they’d come to the same conclusion I did: Changing diapers or sex in the woods? The choice is clear.

To all those imploring that I settle down, I say: Don’t hold your breath. Yes, I will get older. But then, I would have gotten older in a marriage, too. Yes, there is a risk I could live out my final, rapidly deteriorating years in solitude. But then, marriage is no guarantee of a life lived loved. A signature on a dotted line and a jointly filed tax return does not protect you from living loveless and solitary. There is also the small matter of my inquisitive eye. Even when I love the girl I’m with, it seems that when I’m out I can’t help but admire another beautiful woman in the vicinity, and to desire her in the most intimate manner. I imagine scenarios flirting with her, making her smile and her eyes sparkle, her legs cross and uncross in sublimated autoeroticism. This urge of mine does not have an off switch.

I know that hedonic convergence does not magically manifest in the gleam of a gold ring. Life is a parade of worry and high wire risk, of love and loneliness, and no socially manufactured arrangement exists to insulate you from your dreaded fears. To imagine otherwise is beta.

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