Catalonia Singing Separate Ways

Cheap Chalupas notes that a prominent economist has come out in favor of Catalonian secession, and that he has done so for evil, vile, naughty, emotionally human tribal reasons. It’s an interesting post more for what it reveals about the dominant narrative of our time, and how it has infected the perspective of the pundit class to such an astonishing degree that any thought remotely transgressive of this narrative becomes the stuff of Hitlerian nightmare.

Commenter “lords of lies” left this over there:

i have yet to see or hear of a mainstream economic model that accounts for robert putnam’s findings that racial and ethnic diversity reduces intergroup and intragroup trust.

Is that true? There are no major economic models that incorporate this fundamental aspect of human nature? If so, that would be evidence for the growing irrelevance of economics as a field. Maybe that explains why no two economists can agree on anything, despite learning from the same textbooks and past greats.

I wonder what roguish, Spanish-speaking commenter gig thinks about all this.

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The Age Of Flakes

When a girl flaked (i.e., unexpectedly cancelled or failed to show for a date, or screened your calls) on you in the not too distant past, it usually meant there was a lack of attraction or she lost what little attraction there was in the interim between meeting her and calling her the next day. Occasionally, flakes were legitimate consequences of bad logistics or real plans that she had.

But, today, with the proliferation of smart phones and dumb disrespect, flaking has become de rigeur in certain segments of the female population. The NewYorkBetaTimes is on top of the trend (h/t reader M Serious):

Not long before that, Leandra Medine, the 23-year-old fashion blogger behind Man Repeller, sat down at the SoHo restaurant Jack’s Wife Freda and waited for her three friends. As she nursed a glass of wine, she glanced down at her phone to learn, via text, that all of her friends had bailed.

Random missed connections? Not quite.

Texting and instant messaging make it easier to navigate our social lives, but they are also turning us into ill-mannered flakes. Not long ago, the only way to break a social engagement, outside of blowing off someone completely, was to do it in person or on the phone. An effusive apology was expected, or at least the appearance of contrition.

But now, when our fingers tap our way out of social obligations, the barriers to canceling have been lowered. Not feeling up for going out? Have better plans? Just type a note on the fly (“Sorry can’t make it tonight”) and hit send.

And don’t worry about giving advance notice. The later, the better. After all, bailing on dinner via text message doesn’t feel as disrespectful as standing up someone, or as embarrassing.

Social media isn’t bringing us together as its creators and cheerleaders promised it would; it’s tearing apart our humanity. Our social minds have evolved in a face-to-face medium, not a faceless ASCII ether. When you can’t see the disappointment or anger on the face of the person you’re shafting, you don’t feel bad about it. Smartphones feed the shamelessness of our culture.

And it is practically endemic among those in their 20s and younger, who were raised in the age of instant chatter.

“Texting is lazy, and it encourages and promotes flakiness,” Mr. Cohen said. “You’re not treating anything with any weight, and it turns us all into 14-year-olds. We’re all 14-year-olds in suits and high heels.”

Social media is also making emotionally stunted children out of all of us. Or, more precisely, emotionally blank aspie idiots. I wonder if the ability to read emotions from a person’s face and body language is declining in lockstep with the rise of texting and IMing? If it is, as I suspect, then salesmen with cunning social skills will be able to clean up in an environment of over-trusting spergy kiddies. Some of you will be able to see the connection to antagonistic mass diversity here.

Rachel Libeskind, a 23-year-old artist who lives in TriBeCa, is constantly navigating her social circles from her iPhone. She finds that she’ll triple- or even quadruple-book plans on weekend nights, knowing there’s only a 60 percent chance she’ll engage in any of them.

“People will text me, ‘Let’s do something this week,’ and I’ll have three or four plans laid out for the week, and on average, more than half of them fall through,” she said. “The social plans I make are always changing, always shifting.”

Girls especially love this age of electronic “micro-coordinating”, because the plethora of shallow plans make them feel wanted, loved, desired, popular, BUSY BUSY BUSY. It’s an incipient attention whore’s paradise. Until 4 out of 5 plans fall through, and she has to micro-coordinate another ten plans to get her lookatme! fix.

Players like this situation as well, because it allows them to juggle multiple women seamlessly and to cut girls off without undue chick drama.

Moreover, it’s not considered boorish when her peers abandon one another. “Because there is very little at stake in terms of having these plans, it’s not that rude,” she said. “It’s implicit because that’s how everyone is operating.”

Social media and smartphones have ensured that nothing is important, because the second something *is* important, there are real consequences for flaking on it. And no woman-child wants to deal with icky real consequences. Yuk!

“My parents always say that when you make a plan, even if your finger is falling off, even if you’re bleeding, you can’t stand people up,” said Ms. Medine, the fashion blogger. [editor: “fashion blogger”. jesus. all i want for christmas is a day of the rope… a day of the rope…] “But to me, it’s not rude. If your plans fall through, that’s fine. We live in a city where there are a million other plans waiting for you.”

This is why the modern day player has to have, as part of his seduction arsenal, professional anti-flaking techniques. If you don’t know how to handle the flakes that will inevitably occur, you are handicapped in the mating market. And you know what kind of guy thrives in the Age of Flakes? — The guy who knows how to flip the script and get women to chase *him*, so that he is the one with the option to flake.

Ms. Medine added that she would often R.S.V.P. to five events a night, knowing there’s little chance she would attend them all. “I don’t think any plan is a plan until you’re inside the restaurant looking at someone else,” she said.

Player: “I don’t think any plan is a plan until you’re inside her vagina looking into her eyes.”

Hey, what’s good for the goose…

PS You will see a photo of MIZZ Medine alongside the article, and, well… manjaw’s gonna manjaw.

Seriously, what the fuck is up with American women acting and looking like men, and American men acting and looking like manboobs? Did a silent enemy slip something into our water supply? Are my balls just astronomically bigger than the average man’s because I don’t apologize for my manhood, and I prefer feminine women?

My techie-minded prediction is that the Age of Flaking will slowly come to an end when video-texting and video calling become widely used. Once you can’t text or IM without seeing a moving face before you, the boorishness will wither with the rising shame.

“If you text a friend that you can’t make dinner because you’re feeling sick, and then a picture of you dancing on a bar shows up on someone’s Instagram feed, you just got caught,” Mr. Blasberg said. “With the rise of social media and technology, it’s harder to use little white lies to get out of things.”

Orwell was only partly right. Big Brother is everywhere, but he is as much your friend or neighbor as he is your government.

A classic CH anti-flaking technique can be found here.

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The Value Of Makeup Is Declining

Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
– “Uninvited”

Women overestimate, and men underestimate, the impact makeup has on women’s looks. For the majority of women, expertly applied makeup adds half a point to 1 point to their facial attractiveness. A minority benefits from a generous 2 point increase to their beauty ranking. A few very ugly women see no improvement (lipstick on a pig syndrome). And a very few odd-looking catwalk models with angular, bony faces can see incredible leaps of beauty from makeup (and favorable lighting), sometimes on the order of a 4 or 5 point jump up the looks scale.

The average woman, of course, thinks that makeup conceals all her flaws (it doesn’t, particularly flaws arising from asymmetry or masculinized features, such as manjaws) and beautifies her beyond her relative beauty ranking in the general female population. The average man, who, it should be noted, has little experience bedding a lot of pretty women, thinks women won’t look very different in the morning, sans makeup. These neophyte men are often shocked by the difference dim light and eye shadow can play on their perception. Makeup may only grant a one point improvement to women, but one point is serious business on a ten point scale.

Since nearly all women use makeup on a regular or semi-regular basis, the advantage any one woman gets from makeup is that it allows her to stay in the game. Not using makeup is akin to walking into a heated mating environment with curlers in her hair and bits of tissue paper on her freshly popped zits. She’s gotta keep up with the Janeses. Unless she is part of the 1% of women with unearthly natural beauty that shines better without makeup, going out in public without her “face” on is accepting a severe handicap to her SMV.

So makeup does give women a nontrivial boost to their absolute SMV, if not their relative SMV. This matters, because absolute female beauty is more important than relative female beauty for attracting men. A plain jane in a roomful of warpigs will doubtless earn more male attention, but she still won’t be any man’s ideal mate. Men have the golden ratio embedded in their brains, and a less ugly girl is not the same as a pretty girl.

We know makeup has mating value for women, else they wouldn’t spend billions caking themselves in it. But does makeup have less value today than it did in the recent past? Think about the typical woman’s dating life 100 years ago, or even 50 years ago. She lived with her parents until she got married. Long courtships were the norm. She was dropped off at home by her date before the night was out. If there was a morning after, it usually meant wedding nuptials were exchanged the day before. If there was premarital sex, it happened under conditions (read: non-cohabitating) that ensured the woman would still be made up post-coitus.

The effect of this dating system was that men would hardly ever see the women they dated *without* their makeup on. Many a man didn’t see the honest, true woman he was dating/sexing until he put a ring on it. The women of yore benefited from this system that allowed them to avoid “just being themselves” just long enough to entrap entranced men in lifelong servitude.

Fast forward to today. Morning afters happen within weeks, sometimes within hours, of meeting a woman. This means men are seeing women in all their natural glory long before any marital vows are whispered about. That hot babe you wanted to fuck so badly the night before has morphed into a moldy loaf of bread with half her face mashed into a wrinkled mess in your pillow. The illusion shattered, a relationship with this creature has suddenly seemed a lot less inviting.

The power of makeup is not what it used to be, for the simple reason that men are seeing women without their makeup sooner, and more often. This unpainted state of affairs has hit cougars and marginal girls the hardest, for whom makeup is their last salvation from a life of depressing singledom.

Is the denuded woman’s face her worst foe? A good case can be made that a culture stripped of its illusory power of makeup has contributed to falling marriage rates and delayed marriage and men in general not giving a flying fuck about impressing women. Yeah, maybe it’s not a major contributor, (female obesity would claim the corpulent crown as a major contributor), but it could play a role. The story of decivilizing cultures is partly the story of women ousted from their vaunted position in society as sublime muses for men’s hearts.

PS Occasionally a dummy feminist hater (but i repeat myself thricely!) will stroll in this happy cunting ground claiming makeup allows her to fool men that she’s hotter than she is, and to get what she wants from them, even marriage. I always respond that such a claim conveniently overlooks the reality of the morning after. You can dye, but you can’t hide…

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Viking Game In Female Porn

A book in the genre of “historical fiction”, (meaning, I suppose, that the authoress did some casual researching of the time period she’s writing about before letting her hamster roam wild and free), is a great example of literature as female porn. From the book description (h/t Randall Parker):

For as long as Arienh can remember, her Celtic people have feared the deadly Viking raids. She knows their brutality first hand, having lost the men from her own family and village to their swords. When she encounters and wounds a Viking warrior one stormy night, she has every right to want him dead. Instead, she allows him shelter in her cottage. Although she fears him, his confidence and teasing manner give her pause. He acts as if she belongs to him. As if he knows her.

Ronan didn’t expect Arienh to recognize him. Why should she? They were both just children when his uncle forced him into a raid against her village. But Ronan risked his life to protect the young Arienh from his marauding kinsmen. Now that the time has come for Ronan and the other warriors to choose wives, he has returned to claim the beautiful girl who captured his heart so long ago.

But for men accustomed simply to taking what they want, wooing the courageous, headstrong Celtic women is easier said than done. And for Arienh, who always sacrificed her own happiness for the sake of her people, trusting—and loving—a Northman may be impossible. By turns poignant and humorous, Loki’s Daughters is a stirring tale of unlikely lovers, forged in dangerously opposite worlds yet bound together by sacrifice, strength, and undeniable passion.

If you listen closely to a woman — very closely, to the subtext between the lines, and to the details that trickle from her when she’s giving her inner voice an unrestricted outlet for expression — you will catch glimpses of the true nature of her sexuality. Fleeting shadows of raw desire that flit in and out of awareness, both hers and yours. Invariably these subconscious resurrections all point in one direction — women love to be seduced by dominant men. They dream of submitting to entitled men who confidently claim rights to their quarry. The brutality of Viking violence yields to the mind capture of Viking game, apparently, in the minds of women of the vanquished tribe. This pattern — of women of defeated tribes quickly acquiescing to the rulership and the sexual privilege of the conquering men who slew the women’s brothers and fathers and husbands — is seen all over the world, and has likely evolved to preserve the female reproductive prerogative.

In other words, treacherous disloyalty of convenience is an inseparable part of female psychology. It is bred in her nature, and appeals to logic will do nothing to dislodge or amend it. The only god woman obeys is the god of WINNING.

Randall asks:

Have you considered writing some of these books? You might be able to get rich off it. You could push more female buttons per page than the average woman writer manages.

It’s a good question why more men don’t write romantic pulp fiction (aka female porn) for profit, under a female pseudonym if necessary. I guess men aspire to greater accomplishments in life.

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Manly Men Confused Why Unmanly Men Get Girls

Commenter aspic writes:

[W]hile i’m on the subject of [Neil] Strauss: he’s a metrosexual who comes across like a slimy worm. These are exactly the kinds of men who are inheriting the high positions in our society. See also: Obama.

I don’t know if Strauss comes across like a slimy worm, having never met him, but if video and pictures are accurate he does dress and comport himself with an urbane flair that violates traditional manly men norms. Strauss’ success with women using game and a deep understanding of female psychology reminds me of a quote from the anti-feminist prophet, Anthony Ludovici:

Among the vices of woman, “constantly characteristic of her,” [Ludovici] enumerates “(1) Duplicity and an indifference to truth; (2) Lack of Taste; (3) Vulgarity; (4) Love of petty power; (5) Vanity; and (6) Sensuality.”

If manly men want to know why unmanly men can outscore them in the sexual market sweepstakes, they need look no further than Ludovici’s stunning insight into the character of woman. The unmanly man, no leader of men he, can reduce women to puddles of swoonage because he drinks from their bottomless well of vanity, he lies to them prettily, he trades in the currency of sensuality, and, most importantly, he appeals to women’s “love of petty power” by exploiting relative social status differentials in microcosm. He is, in short, a leader of women.

This is how the manly men are outgunned. The manly man’s refusal, born of pride or disgust, to sink into the insufferable torments of the child-like, capricious, feckless world of women and frolic in it as if it were his own world leaves him exposed atop his hill, strong and dignified and self-righteous, to the cunning shamelessness of the unmanly man absconding with the women languishing under his paternal gaze.

Our current time — the decadence and silliness preceding the painful fall — is perfectly suited to the strengths of the unmanly man. He rules in this nebulous miasma that was once a culture. The manly men will have their day again, when the fall has swept away the last illusion and the weak are revealed uncompromisingly for what they have always been, but until then the manly men yield to the awesome power of the metrosexual with a nasally voice and a penchant for spinning riveting stories which may or may not be true.

This post Hugo Schwyzer approved.

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Hookup Men Vs “For-Real” Men

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

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

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

By Amanjaw Marcuntte

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

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

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

“nuanced” = deluded.

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

“increased interest” = panic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gabba gabba hey.

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

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

Why do you think it got to that point?

Gee, I dunno… age, attitude, obliviousness?

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

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

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

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

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

Higamous hogamous
man is polygamous
hogamous higamous
woman is oblivious.

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

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

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

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

Amanda: Your point was really satisfying,

“Thank you, I needed that.”
– Ego

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strike while the ego is exposed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bromide pie to the face.

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

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

If you want to have casual flings, do that.

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

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

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

Oops, scratch that last one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you are a man, the lesson is obvious:

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

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

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Why So Many Vegetarians Are Dumpy

I’m not surprised by how many out-of-shape vegetarians waddle among us. Since most vegetarians are women, this means I’m not surprised by how many self-declared vegetarian women are dumpy. The media-pushed image of the slender vegetarian woman is far from the reailty.

Is it because fat women are more likely to adopt vegetarianism to lose weight? No. Fat women are more likely to continue eating whatever is put in front of them. The real reason so many self-righteous and putatively health-conscious vegetarian women are chubby is because they substitute their hated meat with a much worse food-based product: sugar.

You may as well call vegetarians “sugartarians”, or “pastatarians”. Spend any amount of time eating with a vegetarian and you’ll see that they don’t actually eat all that many vegetables. What they eat in place of meat is a lot of pasta, chips, noodles, rice, beans, cereal (oh lord, do they eat a lot of cereal), bread and pretzels. In other words, they have replaced an under-appreciated fat and protein source with an inordinate amount of simple, high glycemic carbs. Result: bloat.

Vegetarians should get off their high horses and realize that the pasta they shovel down their gullets is worse for their health and looks than the T-bone steak they claim is the root of evil and the gender pay gap. A healthy meat-eater like a paleo dieter probably eats more real veggies than a zealous vegetarian. And they look better, too. That suggests one tactic for moving the lemming sex away from a stupid status whoring trend: impress upon women how their sanctimonious diet is ruining their looks. They’ll stampede for the exits.

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