Chicks Despise Niceguys

Horror is a woman’s secret id revealed. Unenlightened men recoil, and even the women who allow the full expression of their deepest feelings are revolted by the specter of their own fallen desire.

I am severely chafed by my gentle, compassionate boyfriend.

I feel sick just writing this, and I don’t want to lose something good, so here goes:

I’m a 34-year-old single mother of a beautiful, sweet, and healthy three-year-old boy. I never imagined having kids, but accidentally became pregnant three months into a destructive relationship. I kept the child and eventually got rid of the man (with the help of a domestic violence counselor and a restraining order), which was a healthy decision.

You see, healthy decisions are not my forte. With a few exceptions, I usually date the damaged bad boy, the alcoholic who needs rescuing, or the tortured artist. I scrapped all that when I had my son, and haven’t dated since removing baby daddy from my life 2 years ago. Until recently.

Five months ago, I met a man at my sister’s wedding (one of the groomsmen), and we connected. Talked all night, laughing like crazy, connected. We hugged briefly at the end of the evening and we both felt it was worth pursuing. He lives 1400 miles away from me, and we began an email correspondence, sharing our relationship history, likes and dislikes, and getting to know each other. We have a lot in common. We fell in love. We made plans for him to relocate to my city and move in together. We decided all this before spending a great deal of physical time with each other. He’s visited once a month for the past five months, and the trips have gone from elated, nervous excitedness to awkward arguing and annoyance. He is sensitive, kind, attentive, and doting. He is so very patient and loving with my child. Because of these traits, I find myself feeling less attracted to him physically. He seems meek. It is truly something sick. I have a hard time looking at him on occasion, because every little quiver, every timid step, every noise he makes while eating makes my skin crawl. He follows me around and paws at me. He is far less experienced than I am in the bedroom, and yet I do not know how to let him know what I like, because he is not keeping up with me in that department.

I don’t have a lot going on, aside from an unsatisfying job, my son, and my love of animals. I don’t have the financial resources to pursue hobbies or interests, and this man offers stability. I love him, but I’m not sure why I’m so uncontrollably moody around him, and why he has turned me off. He is so gentle—the gentle man I always thought I wanted, because underneath it all I’m gentle, too—but I’m pushing away and I don’t know if I love myself enough to make this work. I have tried talking to him about this and he just apologizes and says he feels out of his element. He picks up on my annoyance which makes him feel uncomfortable, which triggers a neediness, which I find unattractive. I don’t want my son to have a bad boy for a father figure, but I don’t want to resent my lover over petty things. Are these petty things? Is love about being able to be annoyed by someone, and loving them anyway? I tell myself that I have a good man—and I don’t want to lose him—but how can I really snap out of this? I feel terrible, ungrateful, and confused.

A woman is as viscerally repulsed by a sensitive niceguy as a man is by a fat woman. If you want to know what a woman feels when a niceguy dotes on her in needy supplication, just remember how you feel when you see a land whale bend over in short shorts to pick up a donut crumb. The stimuli are different, but the disgust reflex is the same. And the reflex serves the same underlying reproductive purpose in both sexes: to avoid contamination of the egg with inferior sperm, and to avoid fertilizing and investing resources in inferior eggs.

Most women aren’t capable of this sort of self-reflection, and with good reason; if women had to grapple with their malignant sexual natures on a regular basis, they might very well go crazy. Or crazier than they already are. From an evolutionary perspective, mental stopgaps (aka the hamster) that block access to understanding of primal limbic impulses is a useful adaptation for ensuring women capitalize when the superior seed of self-driven, aloof, challenging, emotionally distant and often unkind men is available to them.

If you are a gentle, compassionate niceguy… a man of God…, a woman will become, inexplicably to you, cranky and moody if she’s in a relationship with you. You will be confused and wonder why she won’t listen to reason about all the good you do for her, and then you will blame her for your pain, unless you are an emasculated quasi-man, in which case you’ll direct the blame upon yourself. And through all the emotional ups and downs, the turmoil that is out of your control to manage, the cold sexlessness that feeds your spiraling resentment and unfocused rage, the microinsults that pile higher atop your wounded dignity with every increasingly despairing day together, the misplaced guilt that poisons your soul… through all that punishment, punishment that on some days will seem less bearable than the acute pain of physical torture, one demonic truth pulsates at the center of the chaos:

She has as little power over her feelings as you do.

But there is redemption, persecuted niceguy. You just have to know where to look.

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The Sociosexual Dynamics Of Group Photos

If you hang out with a mixed group of friends on regular occasions and at venues that encourage the taking of group photos, you can’t help but notice patterns in how the women organize themselves for the camera lens. This snapshot (heh) of female behavior illuminates so much more than lighting and focal preferences.

There’s always the Lens Hog, of course. She’s usually the hottest and most sociable girl. Her spot is right up front, center, and smiling like she has a huge secret about a rival she can barely contain. She stands with her hip jutting outward for maximum femininity. She is a leader partly as a function of her looks and partly because her looks have facilitated her fearless socialization, which often cows other girls to fall in line behind her.

Where it gets interesting is in how the women below the Lens Hog on the female hierarchy self-arrange for “spontaneous” group photos. The jockeying for snapshot status is nasty, brutish and short; a years’ worth of repressed emotions often gets played out in the few seconds it takes for a bunch of women to line up for a group shot.

First up is the Court Concubine. This just-short-of-pretty girl has flirted with every man in her social group, and has probably slept with at least two of them who have high fived each other over it. She’s fun, but she’s no alpha’s first choice. She will scoot right away for a position wedged in between the men standing in the back line of the photo, with her arms draped languidly over the adjacent dudes. She’s the one whose boob “accidentally” presses into some guy’s chest. (Or belly, if she’s short.) And in every photo her headlights are on, for some reason.

Next is the Queen’s Consort. She’s the second in command girl who’s almost as pretty as the Lens Hog but not as extroverted. She shadows the Lens Hog and will quickly assume a position at her side for a photo. Her smile hints at resentment. She looks like she sticks pins in a voodoo doll of her hotter friend. She screws like she’s getting back at all the Lens Hogs who robbed her of the throne, and that’s a good thing.

Then there’s the Chubby Jester. She’s sorta cute, sorta chubby, and lots o’ fun. She has the personality of a hot girl trapped in a mediocre girl’s body. She will beeline for a spot in no-woman’s-land, tucked between the front and back lines, so that her body is obscured but her face shines for the camera, looking like it sits, disembodied, atop the shoulders of the girls situated just in front of her. It’s all smoke and mirrors with this girl, but at least her smile is genuine.

The interchangeable Pawns are next. These girls are filler for the cheap seats. Neither pretty nor ugly, sociable nor shy, they dutifully attend to their posts in the wings of the photo, adding heft and preselective gravitas to the stars at the center. Many of these girls are off the market, and have grown weary of the group photo circus. They no longer care about maneuvering for status or pleasing the men or the Lens Hog; they’re just there out of a sense of obligation and to drink and say to themselves that at least they’re not like those couples who sit at home all the time schnoococoonoocuddling. They take their sweet time finding a spot in the photo line-up, which ironically makes them seem more photogenic.

In the mix you may toss the Facebook Whore. A subspecies of the classic attention whore, the Facebook Whore angles for a position that will produce a photo she can upload to Facebook that will best reveal her carefree, sexually wild social life to the asshole ex-boyfriend she still loves. She is the one with her tongue out, like Miley Cyrus having an epileptic fit. She’s not particularly well-liked by anyone, so she often winds up at the edge of the photo leaning way in, out in front of the other girls, grabbing some of the Lens Hog’s limelight. She’s a clueless photobomb. A photoboob.

The Pained Plain Jane cuts a sad figure. She hates these stressful social tests, because she knows she’s not pretty enough to compete with most of the girls but there’s no opt-out clause that would save her dignity. If she tries to ignore the group photo, her friends will think she’s being anti-social and draw attention to her pitiful solitude with cloyingly earnest solicitations. If she joins, she looks out of place, her bland features thrown into saturated relief, her smile so fake and try-hard and now permanently recorded for history. So she loiters around the periphery of the assembling and rapidly congealing group, takes a shot at a position well within the bowels of the group in hopes she’ll get lost in the jumble of faces, gets pushed aside by another girl gunning for the same spot, and eventually settles like a gimp sea turtle shuffling into a hole in the beach sand at the far reaches of the group to lay her forgotten eggs, where ironically everyone who views the photo will notice her because she’s the only girl not being embraced by anyone.

Finally, there’s the Photogeneric Fug. Ugly, knows it, has stopped pretending she’s not. She doesn’t need the excuse of a group photo opt-out clause. She just heads for the bar to munch on beer nuts and mentally formulate her next Tumblr post about cisgender privilege.

The group photo sociosexual dynamic provides plenty of opportunity for the player to exploit. For instance, take a firm hold of the shoulder of the Pained Plain Jane as she’s wandering in utter confusion and panic around the gathering crowd, and hustle her into your orbit at the center of the group. You’re now her white knight rescuer. Except little does she know you’re using her as a pawn to tease the hottie you really want. “Hey stop hogging the camera. Your big head is blocking out your friend here.” You get points for the chivalry and the neg. Caress your wallet condom, because it’s about to taste freedom tonight.

PS: There’s one other type of girl you sometimes see at group photos. She’s a rare bird, but getting less rare. Her sleazy beauty is juxtaposed against her abominable character. She’s the “group selfie” girl who will stretch out her arm and take a selfie — like Barack Kenyatta Obama recently did at Mandela’s funeral — of herself surrounded by her group of sycophants. It’s one thing to take a selfie in the privacy of your bathroom and tweet it because THIRSTY ATTENTION WHORE, or to take a selfie in public while on vacation because you’re too shy to ask for assistance; but it’s a whole other level of narcissistic indulgence to force all your friends to squat like a human halo around your awesomeness as you point that camera straight up your nostrils.

You, Group Selfie Girl, deserve exactly one pump — like Obama’s first term — and one dump — like Obama’s second term.

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Dark Personalities Get The Girl

Are you a psychopath? A schemer? A narcissist? How about a fully flowered sadist who loved to tear the wings off insects as a kid? Congratulations! You’ll do better with women than emotionally stable, sincere, modest and kind men.

Along comes another study (just in time for Christmas!) to pry into the darkest nooks of the human sexual psyche to see what it is that allows some men to succeed with women beyond the wildest dreams of romantical herbische kopfs.

The Associations Among Dark Personalities and Sexual Tactics Across Different Scenarios.

Although malevolent individuals may be willing to use any tactic necessary to obtain sex, not all antagonistic traits will predict coercion or coaxing in all situations. A sample of 447 adult men, collected in two waves, reported their intentions to engage in coercion or coaxing of hypothetical targets. Study 1 provided three hypothetical scenarios that result in sexual rejection: (a) an expensive date, (b) a stranger, and (c) a relationship partner, and Study 2 provided the same scenarios, and three additional scenarios: (d) a rival’s partner, (e) a bet, and (f) a powerful person. A Structural Equations Model indicated that a common antagonistic factor, indicated by Social Dominance and the Dark Triad traits of psychopathy, narcissism, and Machiavellianism, predicted coaxing across all situations, whereas only psychopathy predicted coercion across all situations. In addition, narcissism accounted for additional variance in coaxing when rejected by an expensive date. These findings suggest that across the different scenarios, psychopathy is primarily associated with coercive tactics and the common malevolent core among the traits is associated with coaxing tactics.

Evidence piles up that women are sexually and romantically attracted to Dark Triad jerks, and that men with the Dark Triad personality traits are more aggressive (and less ethical) in their pursuit of sex with women. The two libidinous energies combine to make life a pussy paradise for assholes and a sexually arid Abaddon for niceguy beta males waiting on the sidelines for their shot at a post-prime cougarfriend with the pre-Wall jitters.

If you’re wondering what all this has to do with game and picking up women, well, when in doubt… be a jerk. Niceguys might feel better about their romantic comportment, but all that self-righteousness and a buck buys them is ten minutes of broadband-streamed fapping.

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When Women Stop Loving Beta Males

A new study provides further confirmation of the CH view of women’s sexual nature. (For a review of the study run through a typical Slate writer’s nancification algorithm, see here.) Executive summary: women screw around with charming cads and ignore beta providers when their financial needs are met by the state or by a rich daddy, and their emotional needs are met by a supportive culture that condones the removal of all restrictions on female sexuality.

While a great diversity of sexual norms exist around the world, ranging from strictly enforced monogamy to polyamory, according to Scelza’s new study there are two environmental contexts where women commonly choose multiple partners. The first is where women have more material support from their kin or economic independence from men more generally. This may explain why multiple mating is most common among small-scale matrilocal societies (in which women remain in their home village after marriage), such as the partible paternity societies of South America or the Mosuo of China. It may also explain why female infidelity has increased in Western societies as women have gained greater political and economic independence. (For example, Iceland was ranked first in gender equality by the World Economic Forum in 2013 at the same time that 67 percent of children were born out of wedlock, the highest rate in the Western world.) Under this scenario, women choose multiple partners because they have more options available to them, they can rely on their support network during transitional times, and they have greater personal autonomy.

The second environmental context Scelza identified is where the sex ratio is female-biased (indicating a scarcity of men) or there is a high level of male unemployment (indicating a scarcity of men who can provide support). Women may be trying to “make the best of a bad situation and capitalizing on their youth to improve their reproductive prospects.” In such environments women tend to have higher rates of teen pregnancy as well as illegitimate births. Multiple mating may be a way of hedging their bets in an unstable environment. By pursuing an ardent sexual strategy, women are able to choose the best potential males as well as gain the support they need in order to maximize their reproductive success.

The Slate author digesting this study is another one of those borderline males suffering from cerebral Scalzi. You can tell by how dutifully he parrots feminist boilerplate in a vain effort to whitewash the real implications of the study or to redirect readers away from crimethink. “OMG I DON’T EVEN WOW JUST WOW SLUT SHAMING LET OUR WOMEN BANG TRUE SEXUAL EQUALITY WHEN WOMEN CAN SCREW AROUND LIKE MEN”.

If you can get past his vagina flapping, there are some nuggets of inference to be made. For instance, when the provisioning and support services of beta males are rendered extraneous by the economic self-sufficiency and pro-independent tankgrrl cultural agitprop afforded modern Western women, those women are more likely to chase alpha cads for fun and genetic profit. Chateau Heartiste called attention to this phenomenon years ago, and now ♥science♥ — as is its wont — has once again vindicated eagle-eyed CH observations about the machinery of the sexual market. (You gotta swim with the sharks to know how dangerous they can be.)

Or think about what a world of financially and sexually freed women pursuing an “alpha fux betas chucked” strategy looks like. Yeah, if Sub-Saharan Africa leapt to mind, you’re on the right track. A feminist utopia is not far removed in practice from the worst shit pits in the world. You take away any incentive for beta males to invest in cock carouseling post-prime women and to cooperate with shameless sluts to raise the next generation, and you are looking down the barrel of civilizational rot.

Luckily, there’s much ruin in a population group’s ingrained sexual mores. The West — still mostly white — has an evolved store of genetic imperatives that drive them to favor monogamy over promiscuity or free love “sex at dawn”-style polyamory. As Razib demurred, the problem with these sorts of studies so beloved by the degenerate freak mafia over at Slate et al., is that the “main gripe is not west vs. rest. eurasian ag. vs. rest”. In other words, be careful about international comparisons of sexual behavior; you may not like what the data imply about your beloved pet cultures.

But that Western store of monogamous feeling can run out, or become so warped from mismanagement that dysfunction blooms in the absence of once-venerated social constraints. Genetic predisposition can become overwhelmed by strong cultural forces acting in the opposite direction. Enervate the people of the West enough — acclimate their women to state largesse and shamelessness — and any desire for monogamy and paternal assurance will wilt under the pressure.

Pussboys who cheerlead for a female-led promiscuous feminist future have a blind spot regarding any blowback. It’s a “there’s no victim” party all the time for leftoids, who are incapable of considering the consequences of their childish, narcissistic acting out. Like most manginas, they lack the intellectual integrity to tackle the reality of female hypergamy, and wrongly assume that a free love paradise that impugns marriage and female chasteness will mean more sex for all men. No, what it will mean is more sex for alpha males.

No effort is given to understanding the male reaction to unfettered female sexual autonomy. Not a scintilla of curiosity how men will respond when women “choose multiple partners because they have more options available to them, they can rely on their support network during transitional times, and they have greater personal autonomy.” Do Western women live in a vacuum? Or do they live in a world where men exercise choice and respond to incentives? Where men loathe the prospect that their girlfriends or spouses might be carrying the love child of a DJ or yoga class instructor?

That feminist-lauded “support network” with Hillary-esque “it takes a village” overtones will surely become less supportive as increasing numbers of men disillusioned with the growing ranks of cad-chasing sluts drop out, taking their sweat and their money with them, ultimately depriving the state of its ability to transfer resources from men to women. Civilization banks on getting men to invest in its continuance, and the tool it uses is monogamy and guarantees of one woman-one man. If women renege on their end of the deal… well, don’t be surprised if men renege on theirs.

The sexual market is a giant biofeedback loop. More female economic and sexual autonomy will cause perturbations throughout every facet of life. And you don’t need to cast afar to see what a free love society that caters entirely to women’s sexual prerogatives means. Just listen for the sound of gunshots in the ghetto and the silence of empty playgrounds in the suburbs.

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The Female Preference For Badboys, Quantified

Reader Never Mind the Balzac writes,

It’s estimated that around 100 British women are engaged or married to men on death row in the US at any one time.

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2003/jan/13/gender.uk

Given the logistical/administrative difficulties of starting/maintaining one of these relationships, I suspect the women that are inclined to this behaviour vastly out-number the ones that actually go through with it.

A chorus of platitude pushing women and their thimblepeen allies that is growing more silent and enfeebled by the day thanks to the yeoman efforts of your humble proprietors, insists only a few crazy women way out at the extremes of female behavior have relationships with death row lotharios. But, as Balzac astutely notes above, what you are seeing in those newsworthy stories of women with their inmate lovers is only the tip of the viceberg. For every one woman who hurdles all the obstacles put in her way to feel the reptilian embrace of a man who once spilled blood for fun, there are a thousand more women who experience a similar simmering desire for the thug but who don’t have the vajflaps or the taste for high adventure to consummate their lust.

This doesn’t mean those lazy or astonishingly prudent women don’t krave killer kock. Inertia is not the opposite of desire. Neither, for that matter, is fear.

I like to softly twist the shiv in the hides of beta males (wake-up call? or sadistic hobby? you be the judge), so now’s a good time to ask them when the last time was a woman jumped through a million logistical, legal and administrative hoops to hungrily soak in their special brand of beta male love? What’s that? Never, you say? Well, then, you know what to do. Hie thee to thy masturbatorium!

Read the link provided. The melancholia-tinged laughs are inexhaustible.

Three years ago a German waitress called Dagmar Polzin fell in love with a murderer while waiting at a Hamburg bus stop. She saw his photo on a Benetton anti-death-penalty poster. Bobby Lee Harris, a North Carolina man with an IQ of 75, was on death row for stabbing his boss to death during a robbery on a shrimp boat. Polzin was overwhelmed by the picture,

“It was something in his eyes,” she later said. “There was this remorse, sadness. I was attracted. I knew he was the one.”

Within the year Polzin and Harris were engaged and she had moved to America to live with his family. This story seems a little surprising, but if you see the picture that Dagmar fell in love with it is, frankly, astonishing. He may have many charming accomplishments to recommend him as a husband, but Harris is not a bonny boy.

Low IQ, badboy killer charm >>>>>> male looks.

It was recently reported that Ian Huntley, the Soham man charged with the murders of schoolgirls Jessica Chapman and Holly Wells, receives bundles of fan mail from women every week – many containing photographs of themselves.

Child murderers are reportedly the most hated of all criminal elements. And yet, even they have no trouble inspiring women to swooning declarations of everlasting love.

Prison romances seem in no danger of dying out. But the cliche of the prison bride as wig-wearing trailer-trash is misguided: the women come from all sectors of society. Carlos the Jackal become engaged to his lawyer last year. The famous Glasgow hard man Jimmy Boyle married a psychiatrist he met in prison. The most common form of contact, certainly for many of the 100 or so British women currently engaged or married to American men on death row, is through anti-death-penalty campaign internet sites.

REVOKE THE VOTE, 2013.

The most melancholy story concerns two middle-aged Christian sisters, Avril and Rose, who left long-term “boring” marriages for men in prison.

Sometimes women despise beta males so much they don’t even want their bux.

One man had been convicted of a string of minor property offences, the other man had killed his previous wife.

Once a woman’s love algorithm is executed (heh), not even knowing a man’s history of killing his previous wife will stop her from delivering the male to her box. Throw caution to the wind, will a girl with tingling quim!

His new wife, Rose, said: “I have faith that if you’re genuine with the Lord you’re a new person. A lot of people have said I should be worried about him because of what he did and his background – which is pretty awful and violent – but I have no fear.”

This is the deformed, quasimodo version of Christianity.

Despite the women’s faith, both relationships ended tragically: a week after his release the thief bludgeoned Avril to death with a hammer. The other husband ended up back in prison after trying to cut Rose’s ear off and pull out her teeth with pliers.

However, it is rare that the most disturbing type of relationship is formed. Hybristophiliacs are sexually excited by violent outrages performed on others. These women often send pornographic pictures of themselves to prisoners. The self-styled “most violent prisoner in Britain”, Charles Bronson, publishes photos he receives on his website.

Beta male: Will u text me pic of your boobs?
Girl: Creep! Don’t ever call me again.

Charles Bronson: *rolls out rap sheet a mile long*
Girls: MY TITS. MY PUSSY. ALL YOURS. MARRY US!!!

Funny things is, I’m not even exaggerating.

But, as clinical psychologist Dr Stuart Fischoff says, the love object is “almost irrelevant at this point. He’s a dream lover, a phantom limb”. Such fantasy projection can be used to wish away any aspect of reality. The excuses the women give for their partner’s alleged crimes operate as in all other relationships. They do what we all sometimes do when faced with negative information about loved ones: they refuse to believe it.

It’s informative to compare and contrast the rationalizing behavior of women with law-abiding betas and alpha killers. Women have no trouble, no trouble at all, believing negative things about their beta hubbies, and will often go to great lengths to exaggerate those negative impressions so that their transition away from the beta to a world of freedom to pursue anti-betas is as painless as possible. This behavior is quite unlike what we see women doing with alpha assholes, for whom every readily apparent flaw is instantly and vigorously denied or waved away by their women with the acumen of a star lawyer on a cocaine-fueled semantics bender.

On one website devoted to Richard Ramirez his wife says, “I appeal to all intelligent persons not to believe everything that is being presented about Richard in the media. The facts of his case ultimately will confirm that Richard is a wrongly-convicted man, and I believe fervently that his innocence will be proven to the world.”

Beta housepet: I forgot your mom’s birthday.
Wife: Is there anything you can do right? Remember when you forgot our 13th anniversary? Do you even care at all? Maybe if you got your head out of those video games you play all the time you’d stop being so goddamned selfish. I want a divorce.

Serial killer: I killed 20 people. Eh, it might’ve been 45.
Female admirer: Oh, I’m sure you had your reasons. Please love me like only you can.

Anyone who comes to this blog to insist, against the mountain of evidence proving otherwise, that only skanks or fugs or very rare specimens of womanhood with mental illness fall for the alluring charms of alpha male killers and crooks will be summarily banned for possessing the lethal combination of trollery and studied ignorance.

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Chicks Dig Psychotic Killers

Charles Manson, 79 years old and still proudly sporting a swastika on his forehead, has a 25 year old girlfriend.

Charles Manson, perhaps the most infamous convicted killer of all time, is 79 years old and still locked up in California’s Corcoran State Prison, where he walks with a cane and sports chipped prison dentures. Star is a 25-year-old brunette who’s been loyally visiting Manson in jail since she was 19 years old and maintains several websites devoted to defending Manson and his pro-Earth environmental causes.

For those two of you who don’t know, Manson is one of America’s most infamous killers and cult leaders. When you combine fame with that sexy psycho vibe, pussy juice erupts all over the fruited plains.

And Star [ed: girls with one name are same night lay guarantees] says she can prove Manson is more devoted to her than any other girl: “I’ll tell you straight up, Charlie and I are going to get married,” she tells us. “When that will be, we don’t know. But I take it very seriously. Charlie is my husband. Charlie told me to tell you this. We haven’t told anybody about that.”

Star says there won’t be any conjugal visits because “California lifers no longer get them.” If they were an option, “we’d be married by now.”

Manson, however, seems less convinced the impending nuptials are a reality, “Oh that,” he says. “That’s a bunch of garbage. You know that, man. That’s trash. We’re just playing that for public consumption.”

Young hottie falls deeply in love with imprisoned killer 54 years her senior (and looking kind of badass for a geezer if you ask me). Young hottie wants to marry her old killer. Killer brushes aside her nuptial dreams as a PR ploy.

Alpha Achievement Unlocked: Supreme Aloof Overlord.

I want to say that a million loveless betas wept, but I’m sure by now they’re moved on from weeping to seppuku.

PS: For those perennial dumbasses who babble indignantly about how only ugly skanks fall for psychopathic murderers:

I got a hold on you, baby!

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The Modern Corporate Harem

Senior Management: the harem kings.
Management: the first wives.
Accounts Support: the inner circle concubines.
Sales Support: the trafficked East European sex slave.
Support Team: the royal penis washers.
Account Managers: the threesome coordinators.
Business Managers: the young dick sucking upstarts.

There you have it, the modern corporate harem, in all its flowcharted glory. Seven women per one high status man. A more illuminatingly succinct snapshot of the Western sexual market aligned with the globalizing economic market you won’t see. The only surprising thing about it is the lack of any land whales or witches among the female staff. This is Britain; you’d have to spend years scouring the countryside to find and place that many bangable women under one corporate umbrella. So you know a lot of hard work went into developing a staff that looks like a country with all its men and war pigs removed.

The other thing that’s missing from the chart: Beta males, the invisible demographic.

The four kings at the top of the Spermular Solutions organization may or may not be boffing their happily indentured servants (but if you had to bet…), however the exact dimension of their relationships with their underpantslings is irrelevant in the bigger scheme. These women are, no doubt, enthralled by the power of their male masters. They don’t need to be taking their masters’ cocks to experience the same feeling of submissive joy that a real concubine would feel. All those women are de facto harem girls, at the beck and call of their four alpha kings, gossiping and tittering amongst themselves like court mistresses to determine who is the favored girl of the moment.

This social and quasi-sexual dynamic, playing out across corporate hierarchies all over the West, pollutes the minds of women and renders them less able to appreciate the dull ministrations of the less-than-senior-management beta males that buzz about them outside the office. In the company of beta males, a de facto corporate harem girl is emotionally aloof, cocksure, unfeminine, petulant and entitled. She has felt the presence of a real modern king, a maestro of the symbol manipulation secret society, and now peasant men simply won’t do. So she lashes out at the piss bucket boys with undirected, malevolent spite, for their naive importunings fill her with disgust. Who are these nobody betas, to consult her? She has warmed the cock…les of a king’s heart! No commoner’s girl is she!

What the corporate West is becoming is a soft concubinage of a few alpha males and many attractive female HR drones whose job it is to protect the privilege of the transnational globalists by acting as a gatekeeper against infiltration by wrong-thinking elements and potentially powerful competitors. That’s the real story behind the graphic above: the total disenfranchisement of the West’s beta males. If the poor bastards can’t be disappeared the old-fashioned way, drive them out with “anti-discrimination” sophistry.

Naturally, foul feminist cunts and their bubble-headed beta male toadies immediately saw a “glass ceiling” at work in this corporate chart. For them, a workplace that is 90% female is discrimination against women if the top four positions are held by men. All the lesser men who are missing from the bottom 90% ranks are completely forgettable, nebulous specters resembling some human shape and form. Beta males? Who? What? Is that a new social media app?

I have a helpful reminder for the feminists and kingpin ruling elites waving victory signs and placards demanding further concessions from the sexless masses of men who have little left to sacrifice: When you lock out 90% of men from productive society, really bad things tend to happen in the wake of your short-sighted selfishness.

Update

It gets better. As if more confirmation was needed that what we are witnessing is the legitimization of soft concubinage, the fine alpha males at Spermular Solutions held a bikini contest featuring their charges. The winner was the guy holding his mic.

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