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Are white male Millennials the most craven American generation ever? Is the white male Millennial the new “nigger of the world“? Reader PA encounters evidence for the proposition.

Slice of life observation. A young (maybe 23 y.o.) white man is sitting in a public waiting area. He is tall, sportingly dressed, athletic, good looking. I’m standing nearby. A middle aged black man returns to that seat to pick up a small item he left there. Seeing him approach, the young white guy apparently thinks he wants that seat he’s sitting in. So he jumps up and in apologetic voice starts to say something but the black guy in a friendly manner tells him he’s just grabbing something he forgot. The young white guy stammer some some apology and says “thanks man” submissively and the older black guy goes away.

I thought about telling the young man something along the lines of “I understand its a reflex but there was no need to be this obsequious.” But then I decided not to. You know how when a pussy whipped boyfriend can cower before his girlfriend but will go defcon 5 on a third party male who discreetly suggests to him that he shouldn’t take that kind of crap from a woman? It’s likely that the young man in my anecdote may also get in my grill or tell me to fuck off, a compensation for his submissiveness to the black guy. [ed: yup. that’d be my bet.]

Millennials. I can’t relate to having been taught white guilt since birth.

The white male faggotry is nearing an epic meltdown.

In eras when cultures change much quicker than genes, the gene-culture co-evolution process is amplified. We are in one of those eras now, (and have been since, oh, 1960). What new breed of white American male is about to be set upon the world? Or, rather, set upon the world’s lubed strap-on?

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A peculiar trend I’ve noticed in the past few years is the emergence of old-skool Americana on the walls and atop the furniture of various upscale shops and restaurants in urban blue elite-capture islands. It started with SWPL hipsters wearing ironic American eagle and American flag t-shirts, which became less ironic and more sincere over time, culminating in spontaneous outbursts of liberal patriotism on American holidays like July 4th. Recently, the trend appears to be picking up speed. Paintings of the stars and stripes adorn überwhite tapas eateries. Norman Rockwell-ish art lines the halls of globalist corporate elite headquarters.

Have liberal Americans suddenly begun believing in the idea of America, now that it’s a race cuck depot? No. This is fear speaking. The elite and striver SWPL class sense the nation is fraying, and may come undone in their lifetimes. The top-down patriotism is a frantic gesture of unity when division rules the day.

The gesture is too late, too feeble. America will break apart into regional powers within the next fifty years, probably sooner. Mark these words.

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Reader Chris from Dublin pens a stirring love letter to one of 20th Century filmdom’s most iconic (and loveable) alpha male jerkboys, and in the penning touches upon the abiding Heartistian sexual market truths that infuse the movie The Breakfast Club.

It was really only a matter of time before the Chateau would focus on John Bender of ‘The Breakfast Club’.

John Bender , brilliantly played by Judd Nelson (who was 26 at the time of shooting), easily ranks alongside Marlon Brando in ‘The Wild One’ and James Dean in ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ as one of the great cinema badboys, arguably the best of all because of his gritty suburban realism. It is deplorable that Nelson was not at least nominated for an Oscar for his performance and if he does no other work of note, ‘The Breakfast Club’ remains an outstanding achievement of his.

‘The Breakfast Club’ is John Hughes’s best film with a completeness that his other great work, ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, slightly lacks. What both films share is an enigmatic and deeply charismatic central character around whom the rest of the film orbits. ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ lacks the ensemble quality of script or performance of ‘The Breakfast Club’ and is also more of a straightforward fantasy (with it being generally accepted that Ferris Bueller is Cameron’s alter-ego, the man who the trapped and frustrated Cameron wants to be). Ferris Bueller is a far less likeable character than John Bender and, although no high-school bowsie like Bender would, in real life, possess the wit and articulacy that Nelson’s character has, this is no shortcoming of the film – it is, as the Chateau points out, a fantasy.

John Bender has an advantage over the characters played by Brando and Dean because, if for no other reason, ‘The Breakfast Club’ has a higher production standard than those films of the 1950’s and, as such, it is easier to watch. By the time John Hughes came around to the height of his career a more liberal attitude and practice had entered mainstream cinema allowing ‘The Breakfast Club’ to use explicit language and themes which would not have been considered in the 1950’s.

In terms of finding alpha moments, ‘The Breakfast Club’ has probably one of the richest repositories of such of any mainstream film. Bender spends nearly all of the film pissing off Princess Claire (Molly Ringwald) but the sexual tension between them grows incrementally and it becomes more and more obvious that Bender has seriously burrowed into her psyche – hear those tingles chime. When Brian interrupts their sexy ‘Moliere’ moment, Bender flings a damaged book at him in rage, but the sexual frisson is unmistakable.

As interesting is the vicious rivalry between Bender and Andrew Clarke (played by Emilio Estevez), the straight and serious beta jock who initially hits on Claire but gets politely declined.

Here’s why ‘The Breakfast Club’ is such a hit – it depicts the three levels of existence:-

Alpha: Bender and Claire
Beta: Andrew / Sporto and Alison / Emo (and they end up getting it on together by the end. Classic beta – Andrew doesn’t get alpha girl and has to settle).
Omega: Brian (who ends up getting nobody).

In that regard it is wrong to describe Brian as the beta nice-guy – Brian is the omega, while Andrew is the beta. Brian knows that he has no chance with an alpha female like Claire and can only fantasise, as Bender exposes him for doing, to his even greater shame. Andrew is not a nice-guy as such but he is a beta insofar as he is committed to conforming and playing within the system. Also his particular type of beta-dom manifests as butt-hurt and bitter rather than ‘nice-guy’. Remember that Brian ended up in detention for having a gun in his locker because he wanted to commit suicide. Andrew ended up in detention because he attacked a weaker boy in the locker room, very likely a subconscious manifestation of his frustration at having been pushed into an athletic lifestyle, to get a scholarship, that he did not want. Indeed, Bender makes a laugh of this scholarship nonsense during the film when he arses around in the gym and is taunting the deputy principal. This is another instance of Bender’s alpha-dom – he has taken a hit for the group by distracting the deputy principal (a great performance from Paul Gleason) while he lays on cannabis for the rest of the group (and see how that would go down in today’s America … !) As an alpha, the young prince is bestowing his weed upon the minions.

This film was released in 1985 and I remember that it made a huge impression upon us over here in Ireland – we were amazed to see how short Judd Nelson really is in real life (the photography had hidden this very well). At the time I was twelve, attending a bourgeois Roman catholic all-boys’ secondary school in Dublin, and Bender was like something from the space age, the man we all wanted to be, or to have like us. In hindsight our school was a deeply damaging environment of papist omega-dom and, in particular, our form teacher was a disgusting omega worm – unmarried, he spent his whole life in the school, engaged in the various ‘activities’ that seem to obsess such places and he boasted of how he had devoted himself to the “welfare of the boys” (* crickets *). I hated him from the start and it is interesting to recall that the other John Bender types at school felt the same way, and wanted nothing to do with him. That school was no proper environment for any impressionable teenage boy and it is significant that I felt the same way then as I do now, in my forties. As a place where adolescents could be moulded to cope with the realities of life it was hopeless and was no example for any boy.

Ultimately John Bender will always be a fantasy character, as the Chateau freely admits, but his defiance remains as inspirational and relevant today as ever before, leaving ‘The Breakfast Club’ as one of the greatest teen movies of all time.

Although the term beta gets tossed around here a bit cavalierly (as a matter of convenience and artistic license), in reality most beta males will wind up with a girl in their lives. The problem is that it will rarely be their first choice. (Omega males are the men who can spend years tormented by their incel.)

Game, or learned charisma, offers beta males the tools to increase their dating market purchasing power and thus to decrease the odds they will have to settle, or to settle very far down the female ladder. Charisma can help all men, but I believe the biggest benefactors are betas, due in part to their lower initial obstacles and to the law of diminishing returns (that latter being the reason why natural alphas are often given to scoffing at game).

In TBC, Bender was an alpha male… he got the hot girl that other guys wanted. Bender was also a specific class of alpha: The lone wolf, rule-breaking, leader of women alpha male who, I understand, would be called a Sigma Male by Vox Day.

In every respect, Bender was that cynical, aloof jerkboy chicks have a habit of falling hard for. He may not have been the most noble, or admirable, or competent man — he may even have had his personal moral and character failings that would disqualify him from leading men — but no one ever claimed that the alpha male was necessarily a paragon of virtue, nor that women would never choose men of Bender’s unruly temperament and poor character over better men. If we were to judge women’s characters by the men for whom they freely divulge their sex, I’d say the ledger of self-abasement is represented equally by the sexes.

Off-topic, Chris adds,

***** OTHER NEWS:-

Social meltdown has hit Ireland. There is a level of social unrest across middle Ireland, across the type of people who would never cause trouble in their wildest dreams, that is unprecedented. There is a particular type of person who, when they become angry, release all hell. It’s not entering the mainstream media of the UK or North America, because the powers that be are too scared. When Ireland explodes it will take the rest of the world with it – it’s begun.

Look up “Irish Water” and “Irish Water protests”.

Bring the flames …

Any Irish CH readers know something about this? What a teaser…

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Reader chris wonders if IT’S HAPPENING.

New TV show for kids on nickelodeon’s promotes race cuckoldry.

http://8ch.net/pol/res/2090534.html

The official twitter page for it admits to it by implication of their favourites.

https://twitter.com/PurestOfLords/status/600637554853949440

This shit is really happening.

Here’s the IMDB entry for Bella and the Bulldogs. Co-creator, Jonathan Butler, also wrote and directed a movie called The Cuckold. He sounds psychologically balanced.

Bella and the Bulldogs, besides promoting anti-white (and consequently pro-black (heh)) race cucking, wallows in a panoply of filth and lies. Ridiculous grrlpower fantasy? Check. Weak whytes? Check. Evil redneck whites? Check. Numinous negros? Check. Transgenderism? Good lordnbutter, we may have to check that one off too.

Keep in mind, Bella and the Bulldogs is a children’s show. Your little white daughter, apple of your eye and continuance vessel of a glorious heritage of European civilization, sits zombiefied in front of the TV imbibing this sewage by the truckload.

Do the Western cultural elite have a death wish? Do they WANT normal, good people to hate them with a fury? Because that’s what’s gonna happen if they keep it up. And the washout won’t be pretty in pink.

It’s time to turn to lessons from Weimar Republic Germany, and the cataclysm that can bring doom to the earth when a native people feel cornered and despised by their own elite and the dominant culture. The Lamppost Swingularity… the point at which the intensity of leftoid propaganda exceeds the tolerance level of the targets of leftoid hatred… is closer than you think.

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The Spirit Within, CH’s resident disingenuous shitlib (but I repeat myself), disingenuously asks,

Re: The Great White Biker Gang Chimpout in Waco, Texas.

The silence on this website is deafening. Doesn’t fit the narrative, CH? Diversity plus proximity and all that?

Yes, because the massively disproportionate depraved violence committed by blacks, including the disproportionate black-on-white race hatred crime that goes completely unreported by the gatekeepers of valuable life-saving information, necessarily means that whites commit no crime at all. /sarcasm

Too easy.

The Sperg That Spins isn’t even in the ballpark on the particulars of this biker gang shootout. 30% of the combatants were vibrantly hued, which is 30% more diversity than open borders nutjob Bryan Caplan runs into when he’s plugging himself into his neighborhood charging station.

The Sputum Offends, there’s a reason that dissident sites like this one call uncomfortable attention to the reality of MASSIVELY DISPROPORTIONATE depraved violent black crime (which mincing faggot feebs like yourself can’t tolerate): The anti-white Hivemind won’t tell the truth, so someone has to. May as well be the fun guy wielding the Holy Heartistian Shiv.

As for the official CH press release on white crime, I can’t say it better than PA wrote here,

A trap some pro-Whites get caught in is pinning all violent crime on blacks or others. While the reality, statistics, and often sheer honor-less animalism of violent crime follows race-based patterns, it is a mistake to distance one’s nationalistic case from crime as such.

It’s a goody-goody, Ned Flanders trap because a healthy society includes a reasonably managed criminal underclass. Somebody has to rule the streets. The wilder of our girls need someone to be attracted to. We need, in a few cases the wisened older men who know what it means to steal or worse. We need the reserve army of muscle and balls. And once again, we need someone to rule the rougher streets; best it’s our thugs rather than their thugs.

Amen.

There isn’t a single instance of CH ever claiming white crime doesn’t exist. If you read stuff like Albion’s Seed and alternative anti-Hivemind outlets… or if you just leave your house once in a while and travel the land with your eyes open… you’ll know that American whites are already quite a diverse group of folk. You’ll know that white men from the South, Appalachia, and far interior West, and especially from Texas, are a rowdier, manlier bunch than white men from Yankeedom or Mexifornia. But these rowdy folk are my folk, and not the other sub-folk who like to pour bleach down the throats of pretty white girls for shits and giggles.

So you wanna keep playing this game, The Semen On Chin? You’ll lose. And I’ll relish twisting the shiv in your guts for as long as it takes for you to slink outta here tail between legs.

PS Anyone else notice that many of the biker gang members were middle-aged men? It’s like the last dying gasp of unfettered testosterone in this fractured nation. We’ve reached a nadir when the warrior spirit lives on in an aging generation, assuming the duties of the androgynous generations to follow.

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Creator and anti-WASP bigot Matthew Weiner ended his show Mad Men, in his usual style of conspicuously pushing the neurotic propaganda of feminist empowerment and WASP old order cultural displacement while sabotaging his good progressive beliefs by giving in to the exhilarating temptation to sneak morsels of Realtalk™ into his lavish set piece scenes.

(For the record, I thought the show was pretty good 2/3rds of the time. 1/3rd of it was too muddled, directionless, and boilerplate liberal to be worthy of my undivided judgmentalism.)

Mad Men ended on a lot of happy notes. Happy, if we judge by the satisfaction of feminist and manlet pop culture critics crowing about Joan’s new business venture or Peggy’s bright, barren careergrrl future. But CH has the Crimson Pill which will enlighten you about what really happens to all the characters if they were representations of real world people instead of fantasy pewter figurines in the equalist’s curio shoppe.

Joan – She starts a successful video production company spin-off from the contacts she acquired as part of a bonanza of largesse from generous Sterling Cooper men who fucked her or wanted to fuck her over the years. Gradually, her female influence — sexual harassment seminars! — erodes the company’s bottom line, and she has to bring in a male COO to right the ship. As is typical of aging, buxom women who are va va voom in their prime, she bloats up to the size of a tugboat, and at age 45 has to face the prospect of romantic isolation with a son who hates her more each day for selfishly robbing him of a father. She consoles herself with cats, her bank account, and feverish shopping sprees, while wondering in her spare moments if she should have hung up the phone as her lover, Richard, was heading out the door for the last time.

Peggy – Stan and Peggy marry, but Stan comes to resent, despite his best liberal intentions, his subordinate occupational and social role to his wife. This perfectly natural male resentment eats at their marriage, until they divorce and Peggy spends the next twenty years in the bowels of corporate America becoming that ballbusting cunt employees will brag about having worked under as proof of their ability to survive the Worst Boss Ever. She has one Downs Syndrome kid with Stan whom she promptly gives up to an orphanage like she did with her first bastard. She ages poorly and kills herself at age 55 on an overdose of Vicodin.

Betty – Betty dies with a cigarette in her mouth, and Henry finds a younger hotter tighter woman to marry within the year, defying his grief and tears and earnest belief that no one like Betty will ever grace his life again.

Sally – The cock carousel is Sally’s calling. She rides with abandon.

Pete – As a somewhat charming, egotistical prick with executive status, Pete is never wanting for sexual attention from young women. He breaks his promise to Trudy and cheats on her with a Wichita beauty queen. But Pete loves Trudy and treats her well through the haze of his sexual peccadilloes… she is after all his main squeeze and mother of his children… so this complicates Trudy’s anger toward her husband. Trudy loves her prairie life and Lear Jet so much she puts up with Pete’s indiscretions, breaking her promise to him and to herself. There is no worse betrayal than betraying one’s own principles.

Roger – Aloof alpha male to the end, (and CH’s favorite character… “and bring one for my mother…”), Roger learns just enough French to coax hot MILF Marie to offer him anal access. She hates him and loves him for this. Also, he comes to his senses and threatens to rescind his Last Will and Testament to write his bastard son out of it until Joan gives the kid his surname.

Don – Don returns to McCann the most self-assured he’s ever felt. He creates the Coca-Cola “I’d like to teach the world to sing…” ad, which catapults him to superstardom status within the ad-making communitaaaaah. He also returns to chasing skirt and charming the pants off everyone, but now that he’s found inner peace, he no longer feels guilt for his choices. A yogic serenity allows him, for the first time in his life, to accept himself as the alpha male juggernaut people can’t help but love and serve. He stops beating himself up for possessing a skill set which earns him nice things in life, like money, women, and beta male admiration. He bangs Peggy across his desk after she comes to him confessing marital troubles with Stan.

tl;dr

Mad Men is the expectoration of Matthew Weiner’s low T combined with his envy of the Winkelvoss golem and his lifelong mixed feelings for his overbearing Jewish mother.

 

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This scorched-id ashvomit from a bitter, unattractive androgyne is representative of a lot of spoiled word salad written by emotionally shattered Millennials. It’s featured on the hallowed screen of the Chateau because it encapsulates just about every psychological disorder afflicting the inhabitants of the currently operative mating market.

See if you can spot the try-hard misappropriation of Heartistian ideas in her snarkbark.

My Tinder match decisions had grown more rapid and decisive. Handsome but no bio and all shirtless gym selfies? Dick is abundant and low value. Lists only an Instagram as a bio? Dick is abundant and low value. Quotes Jack Kerouac’s “The only ones for me are the mad ones…” Dick is abundant and low value. Went to Burning Man…twice? Dick is abundant and low value. Member of an improv troop? Dick is abundant and low value.

Technically, she’s right. Dick is abundant (aka sperm is cheap) and, therefore, low value. But if she were to finish her thought — she wouldn’t dare — she’d have to admit that high value dick is scarce, in fact scarcer than is high value pussy, and that her real problem is getting too much attention from loser men and not enough attention from the winner men she wants who aren’t desperate enough to momentarily flatter her self-conception as part of a low investment strategy for an easy lay with a rancid skank.

Dick is abundant and low value. I had gotten my new motto amidst the worst break-up of my life.

Break-ups are especially hard on women when they are the ones getting dumped. Women in their sexual prime are rarely cast off outright. Usually, when a man tires of his girlfriend, he strings her along and starts to check out while keeping his eye open for new possibilities. A man would have to be completely fed up with his girl to dump her cold before having another plate in his cabinet.

Shaken to my core by the degrading insults my ex had hurled at me but also mourning the permanent departure of some poetically good dick,

A frequent semantic ploy of Millennial chicks is their straining to ape the sexual prerogatives inherent to men, or their claiming to do so to an audience of like-minded bitterbitches cheering them on. The urban warrioress wants the world to know she has the sexual appetite of the most promiscuous men, because it infuses her with a false sense of power in the face of personal crisis.

I was spending a day mindlessly refreshing Twitter and reading up on how to spot sociopaths.

Dead giveaway she loves her some sociopath schwing.

Send an unsolicited photo of your lower body in your laundry-day underwear with your hand suggestively but not sexily placed over your semi and not even bothering to crop out your poor cat? Dick is abundant and low value.

If you look weird and have an unfeminine personality, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the kinds of men contacting you are also weirdos with a poor grasp of of the concept of selling themselves.

Some will read my gleeful rejections on the many faces I encounter on Tinder as evidence of a disturbing uptick in malevolent, anti-male sentiments among single straight women. It is not. It is evidence of us arriving nearer to gender equilibrium where men can no longer happily judge the clear and abundant photos and carefully crafted profiles of women but become incensed when they take the opportunity to do the same.

This paragraph doesn’t make any sense. How does she reject on Tinder faces? With a vigorous clit flick? And how can men no longer judge the clear and abundant online dating photos of women? Are men blind, or just the men who contact her?

It was not always thus.

Painfully bad writing. If it weren’t for the internet, what would all these feminist Austen-wannabes do with their time?

I hoped that the obvious would become clear and that he’d do what I would do when faced with rejection: slink away to a remote cave and hope to find a sudden and merciful death. Instead, he flooded both my email and Facebook page with accusations of egregious superficiality and a sudden change of heart regarding my own attractiveness.

Note the subtle attractiveness-affirming humblebrag. Typical self-contradicting feminist. “I reject your patriarchal beauty standards, forthwith and egregiously. But not before I mention this one guy I rejected who acted like I wasn’t cute when it was so clear to both of us that he did think I was cute when he thought he had a chance.”

And, for all its faults, I still find Tinder delightful. […] No one can address me without my consent, which I can withdraw with an unceremonious “Unmatch” at any time. […] It is a special joy to left-swipe such profiles back into the bowels of Hades from whence they came.

Woman with low SMV imagines that a technology particularly suited to the insta-courtship, low investment preference of fly-by-night men is somehow a blow for female sexual empowerment.

When Tinder matches occurred, these men stormed into our messages with all the social grace of Steve fucking Urkel but none of his endearing sincerity with appeals like, “Sexy dress. Hook up?”

Men give women what they think women deserve. If you look like a good-to-go slut and you have a Tinder profile, most men will think you deserve little more than a dick pic.

They wore jerseys for teams that suck.

She’s got to pare down her 463-bullet point checklist by at least 462 bullet points.

And almost every last goddamn one of them found their whiskey habit absolutely fascinating.

Fascinating enough that she remembered them and wrote about them.

When these tactics repeatedly failed them,

Did the tactics fail them? This chick seems to have no comprehension of the appeal to men of the low investment, mass mailing seduction strategy. If 1 out of 100 drive-by “hey baby” Tinder come-ons work, that’s a roaring success considering the few seconds of effort it requires to put the plan in motion.

It would be sad that they inadvertently admitted that they actually just have no game if there wasn’t such a spiteful sense of entitlement in such sentiments.

Chicks dig entitled men.

Bless their blue-balled little hearts.

Alert: Unloved harridan enjoys visualizing herself in the role of temptress heartbreaker.

Meanwhile, a substantial number of other men guessed that women using Tinder might enjoy wild romantic gestures like using punctuation in sentences instead of winky faces, or asking which trains we lived off of to pick mutually convenient meeting places, or bringing their own condoms because safety is everyone’s responsibility. These men who care more about women’s realities than their own fantasies are the ones who still actually get laid on Tinder.

She’s yet to form a lasting bond with this kind of man. Mysteries of the universe.

While some women only use Tinder to seek long-term relationships, the assertion truth is that many of us are actively trying to find no-strings attached sex and even more are at least open to the possibility of it on an initial meeting.

Slut wants NSA sex, shocked to discover men who want same thing aren’t Prince Charming.

It is understandably non-negotiable for many women that this meeting take place in public because the law does not look kindly on us if we are assaulted after showing up at a new man’s home nor is it any kinder to women who welcome new men into theirs.

rapesthatwillneverhappen.txt

I am one of many women who has upgraded these initial encounters into sex and have grow increasingly skilled at selecting for only the most exceptional sex with every swipe.

David Fatrelle smiled knowingly.

One guy was 20 minutes late to our museum date and it turned out it was actually closed so we went to Ikea for our date instead. Ikea where love goes to die! Ikea. I carried his clunky-ass light fixtures across an industrial part of town in August heat wearing skinny jeans and still let him see me naked that day.

Well, that’s the kind of thing desperate LSMV women who love entitled jerks do.

I halfway had sex with an investment banker who insisted on bringing his shitty little dog into my pristine cat’s lair.

What you are witnessing is the raw, uncensored id of a loveless and unloveable shrike having a mental breakdown online as she recollects with exquisite detail and simmering rage all the badboys who dumped her after they squared away a few jackhammer sessions with her shredded snatch before moving on to less crazy pastures.

The truth is,

Autonomic female verbal tic meaning “the truth is not”.

sluts like me are everywhere on Tinder but we aren’t impressed by men who are positively beleaguered by the prospect of having to put effort into getting laid,

Funny, if you aren’t impressed by these men, why did you fuck so many of them that you were able to recall and write up a compendium of them as part of your mental health rehabilitation?

nor do we like it when they mock the boundaries of our girlfriends who want to use Tinder only for traditional dating.

Strange non sequitur. I’ll leave it as a challenge for the readers to parse its hidden meaning. My guess: She’s been used a few too many times by men as a pivot to score with her hotter girl friends.

But I’ve found enough value on Tinder to keep going, swiping and unmatching bad profiles out of my life at the first sign of unreasonable expectations.

Power Swiper. With any luck, Tinder will still be around when she’s really old (and not just old-looking), and she can assuage her butthurt spinsterhood by swiping away randos who love her as much as they love the other 100,000 Tinder ladies they’ve gallantly wooed.

Their corner of Tinder is a dark place, dense with hapless souls who didn’t realize that the centuries-long period of dick overvaluation is over.

Yet there she is, in the dark place with these hapless souls. So that makes her…?

The writer — and I use the term loosely — of this soul-scarred confessional is Alana Massey. You can follow her on Twatter here.

Esteemed winner of the CH Attention Whore of the Month award:

29-year old Millennial, or 50-year-old meth addict? If she’s the slut she says she is, she’s a great PSA for women to lay off the cock carousel.

(My shiv needs sharpening after this carving.)

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