Beta Female Relationship Whoring

Reader MrJohn writes:

I didn’t know where else to talk to someone about this thing I’ve witnessed, so why not here. Valentine is really a great holiday to spot the betas of the world. Here’s a beta from Sweden. All seen on Facebook. The girl (24) and the guy (about 28) has been dating for about a half year. The past months she’s openly called him ‘hubby’ on FB, although they are not engaged. She’s pretty much unemployed and has definitely gained a lot of weight lately. I don’t wanna post pictures of her, but she’s a solid 6. He looks a bit feminine, bordering on gay with his facial expressions. He works his ass off to please her. The typical Swedish guy I guess.

Looking at her page, she has been posting almost every hour of the valentines evening. And at mid-night she’s summing up the evening: (Yeah updating Facebook before giving him sex or any other trivial activity)

“Last pics to summarise our night  saw this movie here, got 15 roses of my favourite colours, three course dinner and finished the day with slow dance in our living room. I have such a wonderful man. Thank you (name). Love you with all my heart and hopefully 80 more years of this to come <3″

– attached are photos of them together in restaurants, with roses and all that.

I feel sick somehow. Am I just too sensitive? Perhaps this is the way to do valentines?

What has sickened you, gentleman reader, is the phenomenon of the beta female engaged in the act of relationship whoring.

You are right to retch, for beta female relationship whoring (BFRW, sounded out “Beef Raw”) is among the most transparent of ego-stroking ploys utilized by undesirable or marginally desirable women. You really want to call them out but, hey, polite society and all. That’s why we have this blog; so you can say what’s on your mind with the kind of freedom that nowadays only naive, small children or cantankerous old farts get to enjoy.

Women of questionable sexual worth who have “snagged” men of higher value, however precariously, are frequently susceptible to feeling urges to advertise on the flimsiest pretexts the undying love their loosely committed boyfriends have for them.

The reason the beta female feels this urge is because such overblown advertising of her relationship strength (as defined by the extent to which the man caught up in her shenanigans lavishes her with gifts and paeans to her awesomeness) serves multiple evolutionary purposes:

1. It signals her fidelity to her one-foot-in-one-foot-out boyfriend. Many men will settle for women less pretty than their ideal if those women compensate by offering implied (paternity) guarantees of present and future faithfulness.

2. It warns away female poachers. If her boyfriend is moveable product, there is a good chance he will bolt at the first sign of interest from a hotter girl. Women love taken men, but their predilection to act on that evil female instinct may be suppressed if the girlfriend of the desired man can fool her hotter competition into thinking he only has eyes for her.

3. It stroketh thine ego. A girl with a well-lubed ego is a happier girl who will be a more congenial girlfriend. (Congeniality nullified if happy ego results in ice cream aided fattitude.)

4. It is social oxytocin (or proxy oxytocin). The hormonally-charged bonding that naturally occurs in the early stages of a relationship can be synthesized quicker by ruses to project the relationship to a point in the future when it would presumably be stronger and more committed. Players use a modification of this strategy to speed up the time to sex, called time compression, time distortion, or future pacing.

5. If the girl is a bit prettier than average, say a 6 or 7, and on the wall side of 25, the beta female relationship whoring strategy could just as easily function for her as a self-regulating mechanism which “tricks” her into feeling stronger love for her boyfriend than she might in actuality feel, thus hindering any impulse she might have to trade up and risk a sure thing. Women have a more powerful “trading up” urge than do men, and this instinct can get them in trouble if they don’t have the self-discipline to know when they have a good thing and act accordingly.

Relationship whoring is essentially a technique employed by lower quality females for discouraging the competition and for encouraging the fence-sitting boyfriend to discard his fantasy of scouring the field for a hotter replacement. It can also serve to push a woman closer to a beta boyfriend so that she does not ruin herself on a perpetual hunt for commitment from an elusive alpha male.

If you doubt the efficacy of this strategy, here’s a thought experiment. Tell me, as a man, given two women of equal facial and body attractiveness, would you find it harder to dump or cheat on a woman who was emotionally distant and giving little indication she was interested in an LTR, or harder to dump or cheat on a woman who professed your mutual love to the world and tacitly confessed her utter devotion to you?

I mean, unlike me, assume you are a non-sociopath in the above thought experiment.

You may ask why one does not nearly as often witness this vile practice of BFRW from hot girls, or from very ugly girls.

Well, in the first case, hot girls have more options. They are thus less likely within any given relationship to feel as urgent a need to restrict their own choices by advertising their status as taken women. They are also less apt to feel insecurity about their boyfriends’ levels of commitment, (men are way more willing to stick around and invest if the lady is a champ), and they are less afraid of competition. (The threat of competition that would arise by dating a desirable alpha male is counteracted by the reduced threat of competition from being better looking than most of her female peers.)

In the second case, uglier girls (4s and under) don’t resort so much to the BFRW strategy because they don’t generally date men who are of sufficient sexual market value to entice female interlopers. The ugly girl is with a low value man, and nobody wants either of them, least of all themselves, despite the alacrity to which they resign themselves to their moribund romantic fate.

Middling girls are the ones who most benefit from BEEF RAW. Facebook is filled with 5s, 6s and 7s promoting pics of their candlelit Valentines dinners with herbish boyfriends looking for all the world like they’d rather be gunning down starships in an MMO.

What’s especially revealing about the BFRW subculture is that a man can indirectly appraise his own SMV by his inclusion or absence from BFRW antics. If your girlfriend has posted pics of you and her in all manner of romantic obsequiousness, you are probably a beta male with just enough SMV to avoid involuntary celibacy. If, in contrast, your girlfriend admirably restrains herself from the lure of online attention whoring and shouting your abject devotion to the heart of the world, you are probably an alpha male dating a good-looking lady of character. Hang up your player vestments, because…….. hahaha, who am I kidding!? You were gaming in your mama’s womb (stealing her resources) and you’ll be gaming till your last breath leaves you.

So, no, reader, this is not the way to do Valentine’s Day, unless you are a beta who doesn’t mind putting up with suffocating female crap and scaring away hotter girls who might be future conquests. Just get her a Skittles bag, enjoy her everlasting love, and be happy you aren’t getting pushed off-course your program to maintain relationship limbo in perpetuity.

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The Modern Sexual Market In A Picture

Met online? Check.

Beta herbling? Check.

Chubby American woman on the wrong side of 30? Check.

Pretentious SWPL photo? Check.

Rode the cock carousel until age limit was reached? Check.

Two people settling for each other when options have run out? Check.

From this article, a treasure trove of dating tawdriness and romantic bleakness confirming many CH maxims.

I was 30 years old, just out of a long-term relationship and no longer interested in playing the field. It was time to settle down with the right man, get married and start a family. At the urging of several friends (and my worried mother), a strategy was settled upon: I joined Match.com and JDate, a website for Jewish singles.

What followed was a series of bad dates worthy of a romantic comedy: stupid sexual remarks, too much alcohol consumed (by them). A surprising number of men high-fived me, for reasons that remain unclear.

You can read the rest at the link, if you have the stomach for it. Warning: it’s bad. Here’s a taste:

I quickly realized that the popular women seemed to know something I didn’t; they were clearly attracting the sort of smart, attractive professionals who had been ignoring my profile. Being hypercompetitive, I wasn’t about to let some bubblegum-popping blonde steal the neurotic Jewish doctor of my mother’s dreams.

Here’s some advice, ladies, straight from the lords of the Chateau, and you don’t even have to reverse engineer online dating by making dummy JDate profiles and Excel spreadsheets to benefit from this advice:

1. Don’t get fat.

2. Don’t be ugly.

3. Don’t act like a man or a bitter feminist.

3. Don’t wait until you’re over 30, rode hard and tossed away wet, to start looking for a serious partner worthy of marrying.

See how simple that is? 1,2,3,4. Voila, love! But I suppose the simplicity is the problem for you girls. There’s no way to hamsterize the advice into something palatable to your egos.

PS As a bonus, here’s some CH advice for the men:

1. Don’t be a beta.

2. Don’t act like a woman or a manboob.

3. Learn game, bust a move and date the women you really desire before you’re forced to settle for the above.

Yours in Yahweh,

CH

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Lots Of Feminists Are Getting Banged Out By PUAs

Ronin asks:

Just out of curiosity, have any of the real PUAs here ever used game to nail a Jizzabel-type feminazi?

As an aspiring womanizer, you don’t need to act with intent to nail an avowed feminist. If you scavenge snatch in the SWPL regions of any major American city (barring a few notable exceptions*), you WILL have collected more than a few feminist notches on your bedpost. This is because most girls in the big blue population sinks of SWPL-Land are feminists of one stripe or another. You can’t swing an Emperor Deluxe condom without hitting a feminist in the cooch if you live or operate within these zones of misandry.

Of course, not all SWPLcity feminists are cut from the same unsanitary napkin. SWPL chicks generally fall into three main groups of feminist identification:

1. The Femcunts

These are your Jizzebomb fanatics, the devotees of feminism as a life-affirming ideology. They are the smallest in number, but the loudest in bitchery and kookery. This is the kind of manjawed girl — typically a lawyer, academic, organic farmer or diversity consultant — who reads and comments daily at sites like Feministing and Slate/Salon/SuckMyClit with furrowed brow, regurgitating what she learns therein at parties and in the middle of dates, exposing a vile expectation that all the world should agree with where her retarded logic takes her. As long as you don’t embroil yourself in her occasional tantrums at invisible enemies, and keep the pick-up light and breezy while steering her in different conversational directions whenever you sniff the approach of another feminist tirade carried along by the id winds, you will get the bang. She is, underneath her femcuntery, still a woman, and as such (however much you may need reminding) she will respond viscerally to ancient cues of your mate worthiness, and her vagina will flower in spectacular opposition to the wilting of her mind. You don’t want to stay with women like these beyond a few hate smashes, so for shits and giggles I suggest you regale her in the morning with your support of the Second Amendment and the ludicrousness of the equal pay myth. For bonus soul-shivving points, casually muse aloud, after you have sprayed her mug and she’s inserted her glazed face into your armpit nook, that 1 in 5 women who are being raped will orgasm during the act.

2. The Partisans

These are the girls who occasionally read feminist blogs (usually when a fat femcunt friend passes along a link) and parrot the benumbing Cathedral crap they hear on TV and read in approved MSM papers. But these soapbox episodes are blessedly infrequent and pass unremarked, unless they manage to corral some dipshit manboob into acting as a sounding board for their cockamamy nonsense on white male privilege and socially constructed beauty standards (Hugs Shyster, Scrotumless Scalzi, I’m looking at you two distilled estrogen pools.) They believe the feminist canon, but live and conduct their dating lives in a decidedly non-feminist fashion. You will rarely, for instance, find a fattie or a mustachioed Marcuntte wannabe amongst this group. At the end of the day, they like being girls, and are all too happy to ignore the inherent contradictions between feminism and their love of shopping for shoes and falling for assholes.

3. The Lemmings

You have to understand that the anti-feminist/pro-rationality message does not get out in America’s major cities. There simply isn’t an anti-Cathedral reporting or opinion outlet with enough heft to influence more than a tiny fraction of women away from the idiocy that is feminism. This being the case, MOST women in the cities will have spent the better part of their sexually adventurous single girl years steeped in the platitudes of feminism, and they will know nothing else. Combined with women’s natural aversion to abstract thinking beyond immediate, selfish concerns, what you wind up with is a population of lickspittle lemmings who mindlessly nod in agreement every time a talking head exploiting this deficiency in the mental circuitry of half the voting public sonorously intones something about “equal pay for equal work”, or “war on women”. The Lemmings, by far the largest group of women you will likely encounter unless you live in South Dakota, include all types of girls, from club sluts to self-important HR robots to daddy’s princesses to deliriously frantic scenesters. Luckily for your sanity, these girls do not take feminism seriously; not if we measure “seriousness” by the frequency and intensity with which a person holds a belief. They are far more interested in looking hot for you, and gossiping endlessly about relationship drama in their circle of friends. Sure, if you press them “What do you think of free birth control?”, they’ll eagerly approve and perhaps segue into a condemnation of those “rape-y Republicans” and Sandra Fluke’s godliness, but mostly they just go about their lives oblivious to feminism’s charms.

So there you have it. Given that 90% of your city’s women are feminist in name if not in execution, the odds that you will bang out, or currently are banging out, a feminist are pretty good. Most hardcore feminists, whether or not they know it, are fucking men who either pretend to give a shit about their precious ideology, or don’t even bother with the pretense of pretending to give a shit about it. In fact, the majority of men, and an even bigger majority of players, are like me: they find feminism absurd on its face and will dismissively change the subject anytime the girls they are seeing make the mistake of veering into feminist bromide territory. Most girls are sensible and will know when their feminist retardation is turning off the men they like, and will quickly fall in line with the change of subject.

There are exceptions. A few supercharged feminists will eventually wind up with sycophantic manboobs for lovers, and a more perfect pairing I couldn’t imagine.

*I currently live near one of those notable exceptions, and damn straight I’m keeping that info close to the vest.

**Many SWPL cities have geographically extensive ghetto areas, which I don’t consider part of the SWPL, or feminist, world. Ghettoes are like exotic locales that SWPLs like to brag they’ve lived in for six months, when in fact all they did was read about them in the crime section, or pass through them on a bus.

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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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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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182 Days Of Blue Balls

Are happiness and sex antagonistic? A new study reports that couples who waited to have sex were happier in the long run. (Usual caveats about the accuracy of Daily Mail reporting apply.)

A study of hundreds of couples found those who waited to have sex were happier in the long-run.

Women particularly benefited from not leaping into bed at the first opportunity. Marriage also seemed to make them happier than co-habiting.

The researchers said delaying sex gave couples time to get to know each other and work out just how compatible they were.

Without this period of courtship, judgment can be clouded, leading to couples falling into unfulfilling long-term relationships. […]

Analysis of the data clearly showed the women who had waited to have sex to be happier. And those who waited at least six months scored more highly in every category measured than those who got intimate within the first month. Even their sex lives were better.

The link was weaker for men. However, those who waited to get physically involved had fewer rows.

Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder? Would seem like it. But not so fast.

First, I’m not surprised women who waited — or, more precisely, made their beta boyfriends wait — were more satisfied with their relationships. Women are psychologically, and ultimately biologically, predisposed to prefer holding out for sex, because it allows them more time to judge men’s mate quality and investment potential without risking a pregnancy by a man who might flee the next morning. There are very good evolutionary reasons why a woman would make a suitor wait as a test of his commitment to her. A man who is willing to suffer 182 days of this:

…is a man who is likely to stick around after she pops out a newt.

Second, selection bias. Does waiting to have sex really make couples happier, or are couples who are more likely to wait for sex also more likely to be content and fight less within long-term monogamous relationships? I suspect the latter. The kind of people who empathize easily and go along to get along are also the kind of people who have the patience of a saint. I bet people like this also have lower sex drives. It’s doubtful that sex itself, or refraining from having sex, is the causative factor in their happiness.

Third, some recent studies have shown that men derive their happiness within relationships from their lovers’ happiness. That is, when their women are happy, men are happy. The reverse is not necessarily true. So a woman who has held out for sex to make an “unclouded” judgment — and isn’t it funny that women think more clearly when abstaining from sex, while men think more clearly when sexually fulfilled? — is more likely to be happy with her choice of man, and consequently her happiness will infuse her man’s happiness level. But a man would be just as happy with a sexpot who put out early and often as long as she was happy with him (and faithful).

The biggest problem with this study is definitional. Happiness is not love, and it’s not sexual attraction. Love is passion. Happiness is contentment. Love is volatility. Happiness is calm acceptance, even noble resignation. Love is dizzying crescendos. Happiness is rhythmic tempo. Love is hope. Happiness is the relinquishment of hope. Similar contrasts can be made between happiness and lust. Conflating all these as if they were of equal merit, or equally valued, is misleading.

Most couples do not wait 182 days to have sex with the goal of maximizing their mutual happiness, and so we can conclude that most couples are willing to forego long-term happiness for short-term ecstasy. Our revealed preferences indicate that happiness is not high on our mental checklist of values or emotional states.

It’s an intriguing hypothesis, though, that the happiness women gain from lengthy periods of enforced abstinence they sacrifice in sexual and romantic satisfaction. The committed beta provider that female-compelled (and it’s rarely male-compelled) abstinence selects for comes at the cost of losing the sexy alpha cad that female-compelled abstinence selects against.

Maybe some massively underacknowledged subculture of preternaturally abnegating abstinent Evangelicals exists of which I’m only dimly aware that skews the average time couples spend in sexless purgatory well into the double and triple digit days, but in the world I live in — the one that’s pretty much a given in any community that isn’t orthodox religious — a 60 day wait for sex is nearly unheard of, let alone a 182 day wait. In fact, a wait beyond three weeks is pretty much folly for any man dating your typical SWPL chick; by that time, she will have moved on to fucking some dude who actually turns her on. Even the women who say they want to wait longer than convention would react with disbelief if a man told them he would be willing to wait six months before having sex. It’s that weird.

What good is long-term happiness if you can’t even score the short-term thrill? There’s the rub. As a man, you are really rolling low odds by pursuing, or, more precisely, by abiding the woman’s pursuing, the “wait to elate” strategy. The far-future happiness and relationship stability that a long sexless courtship might offer is greatly outweighed by the high risk that you de facto castrate yourself to the woman you are chastely wooing. You’d be a fool to avoid the bedroom for very long, when there is a good chance some other man will distract your girl’s attention during her prolonged bout of purity. And an even better chance you’ll accidentally say or do something during the dry months of your courtship that extinguishes the spark of her attraction for you.

This severing of happiness from sexual triumph, for both sexes, is one of the great unrecognized repercussions of the past 60 years of our Wild West mating market. And it seems like this is exactly the way most of us want it.

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How To Do Anniversaries The Alpha Way

V. writes:

Yesterday it was my 7th month anniversary with my girl. She has been nagging about never celebrating it, so I wrote her name on the street with piss right in front of her and took a picture for the memory.

Anniversaries. The word conjures images of beta males frantically buying gifts at the last second for wives or girlfriends to honor nearly forgotten calendar dates the poor saps believe will earn them major romance cred. But anniversaries are not inherently beta.

If your girl imparts great significance to off-year anniversaries, or to any anniversary having to do with dating milestones rather than the much more onerous (and drably expected) marriage milestones, you are likely an alpha male. A girlfriend who wants to celebrate a seven month anniversary with you is thankful for each and every second of your company. To her, the months are as magical as decades would be to the woman married to a dutiful beta provider.

The weirder the reason for, and the timing of, the anniversary, the more alpha you are. So if she wants to celebrate the one month anniversary of the time you took her out on a real date, you are probably an alpha male. If she starts saying stuff like, “It’s 8:35, Wednesday evening. Remember this time? It was the first time you kissed me. And it was raining outside, just like tonight…,” you are probably an alpha male.

If you are a man who surprises your girlfriend with trivial anniversaries she had no idea existed nor even the remotest interest in celebrating, please lop off your balls. They are obviously doing you no good.

PS You don’t have to spend a lot of money on anniversary gifts. You don’t have to spend any money, for that matter. A woman will, over the years, recall more fondly her name pissed on the street or in the snow than she will the tennis bracelet wrapped by department store staffers.

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