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A comment from Tiberius that had me chuckling,

The strip clubs around here are more circus than anything. We went to one on a friends birthday. The hottest one had only one arm. She dragged the birthday boy up on stage, ripped the elastic out of his underwear, took his belt, wound it tight around her stub and whooped his ass with it. I’ve never seen anything more surreal in my life. I do not get boners recalling this experience.

I’ll take a wild guess which region in the US this “Weird Americana” titty bar is located: West Texas.

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Because niceguys excuse women’s shitholistic behavior.

There will always be an urge in people (not just couples therapists and marriage counselors, although they are more prone to experiencing the urge) to relieve women of and burden men with responsibility and accountability. This is a consequence of the Fundamental Premise, which states that eggs, being pricey, add value to the vessel which houses them, and therefore that vessel commands deference and apologia from all social and institutional forces.

The feminist complaint of an oppressive patriarchy that puts women under the jackboot of men is literally the opposite of reality, but we should not be surprised by feminist delusion because it’s also in the nature of women to ignore their advantages and to focus on those perceived injustices that insufficiently coddle them to a torrential splooge.

On female unaccountability, @TrevorGoodchild notes the connection to Game and the modren dating market,

Women are also more attracted to men who hold them to account, and are actively repelled by betas that give them a free pass (they’ll still take the freebie, though)….

This may be one of the clearest definitions of Game and sexual market dynamics I’ve read outside of my own very stable genius scribblings. What kind of men hold women to account? Jerkboys. What kind of men absolve women of personal responsibility? Niceguys. Women love the former, and hold the latter in contempt.

Women don’t want a toady, regardless of any claims to the contrary. Women want a challenge. A man who will call them out on their shit. And jerkboys are the men who will give them that thrill.

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A great comment by SebastianX1/9 over at Sailer’s blog, musing about the Me Too, Please sex panic and its end game,

You are watching the real-time abolition of romantic love and courtship, to be replaced with mediated social media. Unmediated human interaction is being fazed out. They mean to abolish physical reality and the possibility of talking in person. Flirtation, romance, banter, charm, poise, casual human interaction – all of these things have been diminished.

I have a lot more to say on this subject, but for now take a moment to think about the path to anhedonic hell our culture is determined to travel, and why it has come to be at this point of history that love is under attack from the very forces which claim the mantle of love.

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Men (and lately women too, thanks to the endless sex denialist propaganda stream) underestimate the vast difference in physical strength between the sexes, and as a consequence also underestimate the psychological impact men’s size and strength has on women’s emotional state when in the company of men. The strongest woman would be no match for the average soyboy, and this fact of life has implications for how women have evolved to behave around men. Specifically, women are evolved to be both aroused and scared of male physical strength, and particularly so when alone with a man and no nearby white knights to aid her in case the man she’s with turns out to be a psychokiller.

Women have evolved this way because a dominant, potentially dangerous man is both a benefit and a risk to her. His benefit is obvious: in a harsh environment filled with predators human and animal, he can protect her. His cost is obvious as well, but maybe less so to the muff-struck girl: a dominant man may turn his ire on her if she crosses him or his entitlement or rage escape his self-control.

Thankfully for you readers, years in the wench trenches and a compilation of personal experience from hundreds if not thousands of aspiring womanizers who told their stories in online forums have revealed some extraordinarily potent pre-bedroom maneuvers to heighten a woman’s sexual arousal and consequently lower her inhibition.

The goal is to walk that fine line between a display of dominance which excites women and a menacing threat which scares women. Foreplay is maximally inflamed with a quick, yet unmistakable, hint of your manly power.

The move is simple. Grab a woman’s wrist HARD in the heat of the moment. Pin it against the wall, or against her shoulder or hip. This motion is AC/DC electricity, and as segue to sex it’s both boner and beaver fuel. You see, your dominance display will not only arouse her, it will arouse yourself seeing her submit so deliriously to your entitled whim and overwhelming physicality. Dominance is the limbic lube that both men and women secretly crave, the former for its powerful alpha penumbra, and the latter for its submission summoning sexiness.

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It has been fairly well-researched that women aren’t as committed to tribal loyalty as are their men. Men are defenders of their property; women are defenders of the social consensus. But there is a short window when, under threat from invaders or subversives, women will fight the usurpation of their men and their way of life. Via Brabantian,

[Anatoly Karlin] above links to Vincent Law’s article on this topic, and it’s worth sharing VL’s view in more detail, explaining the paradox of why Russian women are still nationalist but Western women are ‘refugees welcome’

VL reasonably posits that in female attitudes regarding foreign migrant invasion, there are

two parts – the early stage and the later stage

when a threat emerges, and the barbarians come to the gates, women do not just [immediately] run into the arms of the invaders

Initially, it is the women that will spur the men of their own tribe to fight to defend them. And that is what I believe is happening in Russia. The young Russian women feel the hot breath of the hostile tribe on their necks … so they spur the men to defend them.

Only after women sniff the air and see which way the wind is blowing, and when the situation becomes dire [i.e., the men are cucked and not fighting and defending] do they [the women] start hedging their bets, or engaging in open treachery to their own tribe. This is arguably the state of Scandinavia and much of the Anglo-Sphere as things stand now.

But beyond the Hajnal line, there’s still some fight left

Western women have spurred their men to fight, and they have shit tested them to gauge their willingness to fight…..but in the end, having found their men wanting, they threw in with the colonizing dirt world hordes, because if overrun by barbarians doesn’t mean their deaths (like it does for the men of the defeated tribe), they’re not going to risk their lives stopping the barbarians. They will instead spread their legs for the victorious alphas and be happy assuming the mothering position and helping form and police the new consensus once the dust and blood has settled.

Interesting theory, but have Western women ever, in significant numbers, spurred their men to fight against third world immigration and depredations? It seems like our women went straight from civilizational bliss to Globohomo shit testing and welcoming refugees, without so much as a moment spared for the thought of how their radical antiracism virtue preening would affect the well-being of their own men.

If the inheritor of the White races is Russia, I suppose that’s not all bad. At least the women will be slim and hot.

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Happy fresh pumpkin is deluded about its shelf life.

Sad rotting pumpkin is deluded about its freedom of choice.

Corrective: A Great Patriarchal Pumpkin rising from the pumpkin thatch.

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Commenter days of game offered the “normie” objection to female hypergamy that I’ve come across from other readers in previous posts on the topic: specifically, both sexes want the best deal they can get in the mate market, so “hypergamy” isn’t limited to one sex.

I don’t understand the manosphere’s interest in “hypergamy.” It’s the most obvious thing… girls are looking for the best opportunity. That’s not girls… that’s everyone.

And then: Eggs are expensive, sperm are cheap. Got it.

So… girls have more bargaining power, and thus… a lot of guys lose (due to low SMV)… and girls hop around (because they can)… as that egg is in demand (until it isn’t).

Why does this need a billion hours of analysis?

This particular research continues the pattern of underwhelm:

A seller with a high-demand product (her pussy), that can find more and more markets (online)… can charge a higher price, and/or burn more potential buyers (for fun or profit).

Econ 101.

When I see guys that get frothy about MUUHHH HYPERGUUHHHMEH… I increasingly read all that as signals of beta reality/paranoia. And a waste of our time as men to go over this again and again.

The cool guy get the girl. Dur.

For a simple concept, a lot of men (and women) dismiss female hypergamy out of hand as having no basis in reality. And that reality is this: There is no equivalent male hypergamy to female hypergamy. “Everyone is looking for the best possible deal” is a trivially true statement which obfuscates the fact that men and women look for mate market deals with differing intensities of commitment and with differing emphases on what constitutes a good deal. These differences are so profound in both a quantitative and qualitative sense that they may as well be representing totally different mate selection strategies (which they are).

I’ll quote myself here on the subject of “male hypergamy”, before illustrating the Fake Comparison of male and female sexual market bargaining using a car dealership analogy,

Some readers would demur that hypergamy isn’t sex-specific, pointing out that men also strive to find the best possible lover they can get.

My rebuttal is two-part: One, men don’t date up based on social, economic, or occupational status. Men, if and when they are able to date up, do so based almost entirely on women’s looks. We’ve all seen or experienced how men trade up when they’ve come into a financial or social status windfall — younger, hotter, tighter women, as the GBFM would put it. So male hypergamy — what is more precisely termed “physiogamy” — is different in kind from female hypergamy.

Second, male physiogamy is also different in degree from female hypergamy. Women are biologically compelled to aim for a man higher in SMV from themselves, and this compulsion is strong enough that many women will accept long bouts of solitude before settling for a man at their own SMV level (usually at the moment when The Wall first looms on the horizon). When men aim higher, they a. don’t aim quite as high as women aim and b. won’t opt out of the sexual or marital market (like women will often do), if they don’t get everything they want in a lover.

Another point of difference between male and female “dating up” limbic algorithms which I alluded to in that quote but didn’t clarify is this: Male SMV is largely contextual and relational. Social, occupational, financial, and prestige status have to be measured against a backdrop of other men all competing along the same metrics that women use to assess male mate worth. Women only have to look young and pretty, which can be accomplished with or without other women to use for comparison purposes.

This has an impact on how each sex dates up. Men will upgrade to a hotter younger babe after they have spent considerable time improving their SMV, either through amassing resources or social/psychosexual capital (Game). Men’s ability to date up is thus limited by the time and energy commitments required to do so. Men respond to this sex-differentiated mate market reality by de-emphasizing dating “up” and settling for dating “as good as possible for right now”.

In contrast, women have to commit relatively little time and energy to improving their SMV, largely because their mate value is set at conception and there isn’t much they can do to improve upon what they were given by their parents. There’s no point working hard to improve that which has only a tiny margin for improvement (unless we’re talking about a fatty who could slim down and gain 5 SMV points). What this means in practice is that women can spend a lot more time and energy “dating up” while their looks are holding up. Their window for primo action is smaller than it is for men, but within that window they have a lot more leeway to entertain suitors and hold out for the best, even if the best is a cad illusion who offers empty promises of commitment (the age-old risk that women take when they hold out for mr right aka mr beta bux and mr alpha fux in one man). Dating up comes more naturally to women because it comes more easily; as long as they aren’t old fat or ugly, women can leverage their looks almost as an afterthought to attract attention from a lot of men, both low and high SMV.

The analogy of female hypergamy is this:

A man goes to a car dealership. He’s a sensible fellow, and just needs a commuter vehicle. He sees a cherry red Corvette center stage. He salivates. He walks over, runs his hand across the finish. Maybe he asks to sit in it and dream, gripping the leather steering wheel. But he knows he can’t afford it, so he quickly focuses his thoughts and leaves fantasyland behind, to browse the boring sedans. He consoles himself with the hope that maybe, someday, he’ll have made it and can return with enough to buy that Corvette. In the meantime, he haggles like a champ with the seller to drive down the price of his sedan and maximize the amenities at his budget. No undercarriage rust protection, thank you! Finally, he signs on the dotted line, and drives off content that he got the best deal he could, and as he’s heading home he thoughtfully itemizes all the good things about his new car. The smell! The climate control! The gas mileage! He’s happy for himself.

A woman goes to a car dealership. She’s a sensible lady (for a lady), and just needs a commuter vehicle. She sees a cherry red Corvette center stage. She salivates. She walks over, runs her hand across the finish, sits in the car, applies lipstick in the rearview mirror, lays across both front seats in a languid pose, asks to take it for a test drive, motors giddily around town for an hour until the seller has to gently chide her to call it a day, returns and labors some more over the Corvette, sighs heavily as a penny drops out of her purse, shuffles over to the boring sedan and gives it a perfunctory once-over, noting with depressing self-encouragement that it gets 35 mpg on the highway. She haggles with the seller for five grueling hours before announcing she needs more time to think on it. (meanwhile, the seller wonders why she’s shit testing him.) On her way out, she stops by the Corvette again, for one last flirtatious hand graze. Over the next six months, she stops by the dealership weekly to cavort with the Corvette, until her current rust bucket dies in an intersection to a thousand honking cars and sheer embarrassment drags her shamed butt back to the dealer to grudgingly trade in her dead clunker for the boring beta sedan. She resents her new car the second she rolls off the lot in it, and abuses it daily with cigarette butts, spilled coffee, and unchanged oil, until she has to repeat the process, except next time with even less money in her pocket, which forces her to browse the sub-compacts. Oh lord, what will her friends think?! They’ll know she settled because she waited too long. Maybe she can get a bike instead and rationalize it as environmental activism. One night, in a horny and desperate mood, she sneaks into the dealership and fucks the Corvette’s stick shift. She slumps spent, in the love puddle she left in the bucket seat, and whimpers softly for a romance that will never be.

***

I hope that clears things up.

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