Meet The Real Biggest Losers

Cuckolded men. A lot of readers emailed me this New York Beta Times story about the State of Paternity in America today. Before reading, you should grab your Pepto Bismol, because your stomach is going to turn. Get ready to descend into the hell matrix of the unwitting beta male raising another man’s child, where torments beyond your most chilling nightmares await.

The revelation from a DNA test was devastating and prompted him to leave his wife — but he had not renounced their child. He continued to feel that in all the ways that mattered, she was still his daughter, and he faithfully paid her child support. It was only when he learned that his ex-wife was about to marry the man who she said actually was the girl’s biological father that Mike flipped. Supporting another man’s child suddenly became unbearable.Two years after filing the suit that sought to end his paternal rights, Mike is still irate about the fix he’s in. “I pay child support to a biologically intact family,” Mike told me, his voice cracking with incredulity. “A father and mother, married, who live with their own child. And I pay support for that child. How ridiculous is that?”

Ridiculous is one way to put it. Evil is another.

Tanner Pruitt, who owns a small manufacturing business in Texas, paid child support for seven years after divorcing his wife. His daughter never looked like him, but it wasn’t until she was 12 that it began to bother him. He told the girl he wanted to check something in her mouth, quickly swabbed some cheek cells and sent the samples off to a lab. After the DNA test showed they weren’t related, he contacted a lawyer, figuring the lab results would release him from child-support payments and justify reimbursement from the biological father. But the lawyer told Pruitt his only option was to take the matter to court and that doing so might mean giving up his right to see the girl at all. It might also alert her to the truth. Pruitt didn’t want to chance either possibility, so he stayed silent and kept paying.“I spent thousands and thousands of dollars, and it hasn’t cost that biological father a penny, and yeah, I’m angry, but it would have been more harm to her psychologically than it was worth,” says Pruitt, who eventually fought for, and won, full custody.

This is why I support mandatory paternity testing (MPT) at birth. MPT would completely negate the risk of having to choose between loyalty to a child to whom the father has already bonded, and walking away to leave the child to the whore mother to raise. It’s a simple procedure that would intrude on no one’s rights or emotional well-being, similar to how the state requires driver’s tests for people who want the privilege of driving. By making it mandatory, all issues of trust are rendered moot. If it’s discovered the child isn’t his, the father is legally absolved of any further paternal or marital obligations, and is welcome to exit the marriage without having to pay one red cent to the bitch.

Any woman who even utters a peep against MPT has shown her cards. She is a filthy wretched cuntrag who wishes the system to be rigged in her favor — morality, fairness, and justice be damned. (hi anony!)

Some may question whether MPT is good for society, inasmuch as it dysgenically removes the option for women to carry the species forward by duping betas into raising and propagating alpha genes. This concern rests on a key assumption — that cheating women are making the eugenically correct choice. My suspicion, based on what I’ve heard about unfaithful whores, is that they are not. They are, instead, fucking around with assorted badboys.

Mike’s first inkling that something was amiss in his marriage was in 2000, when he was digging through a closet looking for the source of some mice. He didn’t find any nests, but he did come upon a plastic grocery bag of love letters to his wife, Stephanie, from her co-worker Rob. Confronted, Stephanie confessed to a fleeting affair but assured Mike that L., then nearly 3, was his.

If you recorded the answers of one million cheating whores at the moment when their doubting husbands questioned them about the paternity of their kids, only one woman would tell the truth to the man she married “till death do us part”. The other 999,999 women would lie. This is the juggernaut of female depravity you are up against, men. Never forget that.

CARNELL SMITH, an engineer-turned-lobbyist in Georgia, is the leading advocate for men like Mike. In 2001, after Smith’s own paternity struggle, he formed U.S. Citizens Against Paternity Fraud, to help the men he calls “duped dads.” In his most notable success, Smith persuaded Georgia lawmakers to rescind nonbiological fathers’ financial obligations, no matter the child’s age or how close the relationship. Smith then became the first man to disestablish paternity under that law.

Carnell Smith is a goddamned American hero. Step up to the Chateau gates, Carnell, you have more than earned your place at the table among the “King of the Alphas” greats.

With the scientific proof in hand, men like Carnell Smith began fighting back. A few months after Smith split up with his girlfriend in 1988, she announced she was pregnant with his child. Believing her, he signed a paternity acknowledgment for their daughter, Chandria.

Maxim #666: When a woman has incentive to lie, she will choose lying over honesty EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Corollary to Maxim #666: Treat woman like Soviet Russia — Trust but verify.

He obtained joint custody, paid her support and spent virtually every weekend with his little girl. When Chandria was 11, her mother sued to increase support. Smith decided to be tested, and the results excluded him as the father. In a lawsuit, Smith demanded Chandria’s mother pay back the $40,000 he had laid out in what he calls “involuntary servitude” and fraud. The court ruled against Smith, concluding that he had known that his former girlfriend had other partners at the end of their relationship and should have realized he might not be the father. By not exercising his “due diligence” and getting a DNA test early on, the court put the burden on Smith for not unearthing the truth sooner.

Did you get that? The court basically said to Smith “Hey, your fault for believing your girlfriend’s lies. What did you expect? She’s a woman. Women lie! So keep paying, bitchboy.”

If you are an American male, know this: Your women aren’t on your side. Your government isn’t on your side. Your law isn’t on your side. Your culture isn’t on your side. You are expendable. Your use is as cannon fodder for pointless wars, cannon fathers for bastard children, and cannon dollars for whoring sluts.

Would you die for this country that so despises you? Would you care if women who aren’t related to you or fucking you got raped? Would you care if *any* woman got raped? Orwell had it half right — a boot stamping on a beta face and high heels grinding into a beta crotch – forever.

Chandria now attends college in Georgia. She has seen Carnell Smith on the local news and on the Internet and cannot reconcile the man who seems to her so insensitive with the father she knew: attentive, seemingly proud of their relationship and eager to spend time with her. “He was what a father was supposed to be,” she says, “but when things changed, he completely disconnected. That’s just not fair. You’ve been in my life my entire life and for you to just cut that off for money, well, that’s not fair to anybody.”

Carnell Smith, if I ever meet you, beer’s on me. And I don’t buy beers for just anyone.

Chandria, if you think it’s not fair, you have but one person to point your accusing finger at — your whore mother.

For the rest of you rationalizers who think that Chandria’s bitter tears prove that rectifying paternity fraud should take a back seat to the welfare of the child, kindly redirect your effrontery at the perp who deserves it — the cheating woman. If the child suffers, the unfaithful mother should have thought of that before spreading for the thug du jour.

Child-welfare advocates say that making biology the sole determinant of paternity in cases like Smith’s puts the nonbiological father’s interest above the child’s.

You don’t say! And all this time I thought eighteen years of financial and psychological enslavement was in the nonbiological father’s interest.

Besides, society has increasingly recognized that parenthood is not necessarily bound to genetics.

Society is an ass.

“Having been involved in cases like these, I think the answer to ‘Is it my kid?’ is irrationally important to the cuckolded husband,” says Carol McCarthy, an officer of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Academy of Matrimonial Lawyers. “My own biases are going into this because I’m adopted, so I’m real into ‘your parents are the people who raise you.’ I couldn’t care less who my biological parents are. My parents are the ones who went through all the crap I gave them growing up.”

And people wonder why I have so much hatred in my heart for sophistic bitch lawyers. (hi al!)

Let’s rephrase Mizz Carol McCarthy’s quote for clarity:

“Having been involved in cases like these, I think the answer to ‘Is it my kid?’ is irrationally important to the falsely impregnated wife,” says Carol McCarthy, an officer of the Pennsylvania chapter of the American Academy of Patrimonial Lawyers. “My own biases are going into this because my mother who unknowingly had another woman’s fertilized egg implanted in her womb went through with the pregnancy, so I’m real into ‘your parents are the people who raise you.’ I couldn’t care less who my biological parents are. My parents are the ones who went through all the crap I gave them growing up.”

There, that should uncloud Mizz McCarthy’s mind. PS Please put your head under a rolling bus.

WHY IS IT THAT we imbue genetic relationships with a potency that borders on magic?

It’s funny when smart people ask these kinds of questions as if they don’t already know the answer. It’s as if in the asking they absolve themselves of the guilt they feel for following the same amoral code that is followed by the proles and untouchables to whom they feel superior.

It doesn’t need to be answered, but I’ll answer it anyway, coyly: The reason we humans have evolved to be capable of wondering why we imbue genetic relationships with potency is because genetic relationships have potency.

Three and a half years earlier, at a federally convened symposium on the increase in paternity questions, a roomful of child-welfare researchers, legal experts, academics and government administrators agreed that much pain could be avoided if paternity was accurately established in a baby’s first days. Several suggested that DNA paternity tests should be routine at birth, or at least before every paternity acknowledgment is signed and every default order entered. In 2001 the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court urged the state to require that putative fathers submit to genetic testing before signing a paternity-acknowledgment form or child-support agreement, arguing that “to do otherwise places at risk the well-being of children.”

In other words, the same care that hospitals take ensuring that the right mother is connected to the right newborn — footprints, matching ID bands, guarded nurseries, surveillance cameras — should be taken to verify that the right man is deemed father.

Good to see the CH worldview is being considered. It’s easy to be right when you hold firm to your conviction that the truth, no matter how dispiriting, is your guiding principle. For in the end, the truth always wins out —
one
way
or
the
other.

Mandatory DNA testing for everyone would be a radical, not to mention costly, shift in policy.

So was WWII. But we fought to the end. The bottom line is this: Either men have equal rights to women under the law, or they do not. As it stands right now, the courts are deciding in favor of men as being lesser citizens than women.

In other news, Barack Obama’s health care plan would ensure government coverage of mammograms for all women over the age of 40. No word on coverage for men’s prostate exams.

“I got a picture in my head,” L. [the bastard daughter] said, “that the test people would call and say they had been wrong, that he really was my biological dad and that everything I had thought before never really happened.”

Fury and unconsolable sadness
she anguishes
pain is her fate
blame needing to be cast
she searches haphazardly
when her demon
stands right before her
hi mom.

Think of the worst things women can do to men. Draw up a list. I’ll start:

Flirt with other men in front of him.
Steal from him.
Cheat on him.
Give him an STD.
Entrap him with pregnancy.
Withhold sex for favors.
Prick holes in his condoms.
Dick sandwich.
Get fat.
Disrespect his privacy and gossip about him.
Falsely accuse him of rape.
Use the rigged divorce courts against him.
Cut him off from his children.
Cuckhold him.

Of all these monstrous expressions of the female id, one rises above the rest in sheer malevolence — the act of cuckolding. Nothing else, save perhaps a successfully prosecuted false rape accusation, comes close in distilled essence of ovarian evil. Cuckoldry is slavery. It is metadeath. It is soul murder. It is the motherfucker of all lies. As men, we are beholden to guard against it by any means necessary. Today, in 2009 America, that means refusing to participate in the corrupted institution of marriage and hiding your assets overseas.

Here are the faces of society’s ultimate losers:

If beta has a “look”, these men have it.

Carnell Smith is the man in the third photo. He is a genuine American hero; a warrior fighting the long hard battle for our benefit. Send him a note of appreciation and support. A nation is saved one righteous man at a time.

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The Ultimate Shit Test: Marriage

Reader “T.A.” sent me the following email:

******

I’ll be brief – I’m a fan. Game has made my marriage palatable, and I thank you and the rest of the community for that. However, I wanted to submit a sort of “public service announcement” to the community. Hopefully so men everywhere can avoid the mistake I made. Do with this what you wish, but hopefully you’ll post it:

————————————————————————————————————————
I’m like alot of men – probably safe to say “most” men. I’m 35. I’m a handsome fellow. I’m reasonably successful. I’m fit – probably more fit than I should be at my age – due to years of pent up frustration released on various pieces of innocent gym equipment and “recreational” 5Ks. You would probably look at me if you passed me and my family on the street and think I’ve got my shit together. I’ve got a pretty, fit wife who wears stylish clothes, and I’ve got two gorgeous sons.

You’d probably think that I’m a happy man – or at least that I SHOULD be a happy man. You’d be wrong.

I’ve spent countless hours thinking about the uninspired, passionless albatross of a marriage that constantly tugs at my neck. Countless hours thinking about how incredible it would be to actually get to use my dick more than a couple of times a year. Countless hours spent lamenting my shitty marriage with my equally miserable married buddies. I’ve thought about divorce a dozen times, but social pressures and family expectations have always held me back (“grow up – sex isn’t that important!” “but you’ve got such a lovely family!” etc.). I lived in a constant state of crisis for years until one day an old friend of mine introduced me to the CHsphere.

I’ve DEVOURED all manner of PUA/MRA/CHganda with the appetite of a starved child. And I’ve come to some startling conclusions.

I won’t waste too much of your time with my personal story (trust me, it is completely interchangeable with any one of millions of men’s in this country). But I have come away with one priceless gem that I believe all men MUST be made aware of. It’s as common as a McMansion in an outlying suburb, yet its as powerful and menacing a beast as any you’ll ever encounter:

BEWARE the classic gun-to-the-head marriage pressure administered by your typical non-descript, rudderless late 20’s/early 30’s woman.

When a woman pressures you mercilessly to marry her, bullying to the point of threatening a break up – this is the shit test of ALL shit tests. Treat it as such – If you fail this shit test, you are RUINED. FOR…LIFE..

For those of you who haven’t lived through it, let me go through the script:

You’ll meet a girl. She’ll seem perfect in a lot of ways. Not only will you get to hang out with your friends whenever you want, go out to bars with your buds, etc. but she’ll encourage it. And she’ll have her own life and she’ll go out with her friends. She’ll be game for the booty call, and she’ll do filthy things in your bed (and out of your bed). She’ll fuck in public bathrooms, she’ll fuck you and blow you in cars. She’ll bend over willingly and she might even swallow. Nothing will be off limits, sexually, and she’ll wake up your neighbors proclaiming how much she loves to get fucked by you.

She’ll watch football with you, maybe even become a fan of your team. She’ll watch movies with you that you know she hates, and she’ll do it with minimal whining. She’ll cook you special meals, pick up random gifts, and generally be a perfect girlfriend. You can leave her to pay the check, shrug at her requests for attention and affection, blow off her birthday, and generally just live a normal bachelor life but with the added benefit of having a consistent and exciting lay.

Then one day it will all come to a screeching halt.

I’m not quite sure what causes it – I suspect its a “special” night out with her yenta friends. A night spent drinking and dreaming about designer wedding dresses, champagne flutes, Pottery Barn registries, and giant rocks. Whatever the case, sooner or later they end up muttering to each other how unbelievable it is that their boyfriend hasn’t popped the question and made the self-absorbed dream that they’ve held dear since they were a little girl into an expensive and soul-sucking reality. They might even become hostile – proclaiming what a “waste of time” it is to date this horrible creature who is so selfish that he’s denying them a $50k masturbatory spectacle that benefits no one but them, and a subsequent life of enslavement and misery. Things will get desperate, and you’ll start seeing the signs.

There will be inexplicable weeping at inopportune times. Cold shoulders for no apparent reason. Sex will dry…up. Blow jobs will be something you only see in pornos. Hints at marriage will drop like snowflakes at first – then like a barrage of hail. Any resistance to the wedding yap will incite riots of rage and tears, and screams of “if you loved me you’d want to marry me!!” and “why am I wasting my time with you?!!”

This is the beginning of the end, my friend. And you should fucking RUN…LIKE…HELL!

You see, there is no winning this fight. I know – I tried. But there is no victory – and there sure as shit are no spoils. I know what you’ll be thinking: “I don’t really want to break up yet – maybe its time to settle down?” and “surely the sex will resume once we get over this hump and get married?” You’ll start wistfully looking at little kids on the street, thinking “maybe I’d make a cool dad?” and “I’m not gittin any younger – maybe this is for the best.” You’ll fall prey to the oldest trick in the book – thinking that things will get “better” if you just cave to this, the queen of all shit tests.

Listen to me – things will not get better. I didn’t really understand at first, but after becoming part of this community, I understand it all perfectly now. Things will not only NOT get better, but they will get much, MUCH worse. EXPONENTIALLY WORSE. To degrees that you cannot imagine. Think that you’ll start having sex again after buying that ridiculous fucking rock? Dream on – it gets WORSE. You’ll be lucky to get laid on your birthday from now on. And when you do get laid it will SUCK. The term “doggystyle” will be like a fucking cuss word in your house. Anything cool and interesting that ever happened in your bedroom will be a long lost memory.

Think your girl will relish her role as wife and cook you up a nice meal from time to time? Fuck that – get used to picking up fast food and frozen dinners. That is, unless you like to cook yourself or take it upon yourself to maintain a healthy diet – in this case, welcome to the role of homemaker, you beta pussy. And you better not have the audacity to leave it up to the Mrs. to plan/cook a meal. You’re on the hook now.

Oh and you’ve still got all of the “man duties” too, didn’t you know? Make sure the oil in BOTH cars is changed, make sure all of the tires are inflated. Want to sit on the couch and watch the game? Fuck you! Cut the grass. And pay the bills when you’re done. Mama needs to go shopping with the girls. Because hey, maybe if she buys herself something nice from time to time (and by “from time to time” I mean “increasingly” until she’s buying EXPENSIVE shit every other day) she’ll be happy again and you guys can get to fuckin again, right?

Wrong. Its over dude. You’re on a sharp, downward beta-slide that will just make her more and more revolted by the day. It was over before you started.

See, if you fail this shit test, you have failed every…single CH tenet in one fell swoop. Worse, your girl is going to have a front row seat to this total and complete collapse of your manhood. She’s gonna watch it in what seems like slow motion – like witnessing the carnage of some kind of disgusting ten car pileup where gas and steel and body parts are spewed out in a violent ballet of carnage. And make no mistake – she will be sickened. She will have to hold back the vomit upon witnessing your more-beta-than-beta act of total surrender. And your dick will be as appealing to her as a fresh turd. You will be completely and permanently doomed from that day forward, and your sex appeal will hit negative digits.

It has a sad sort of snowball effect – you’ll think that the more sensitive, caring and compassionate you become, the more she’ll reward you. But all it does is make you more beta – more repellent. She’ll hate you more by the day, and she’ll mask it less and less.

Whatever you do with your life, to whatever degree you practice game, if you remember one single thing from any of these blogs, remember this – you MUST pass the Marry-Me-Or-Else shit test. Your future depends on it. Its basically like someone holding open the door to a prison cell and cheerfully inviting you in. There’s no earthly reason for you to EVER step into that cell, and ultimately they will HATE you for getting in that cell. Not only that, but they’ll lift up their skirts and get fucked by some bad boy outside that cell – right where you can watch but are powerless to intervene. Its a cruel, beta joke and they know it. Turn it back on them – just say “NO.” The world needs another yenta wife like it needs another stinking landfill.

******

I’ve had a few instances where the girl I was dating began pressuring me for marriage. What did I do? I walked. And I will probably walk again. If a lover told me “marry me or else” I would choose “else”. I would inform her that I don’t heed ultimatums, for that road leads to soul death.

Only weak betas cave at the first hint of pressure. Fear motivates their decisions. The fear of being alone, the fear of going sexless. This fear is mostly a phantom. Remember, gentlemen, no matter how badly the dating market skews against your interests, no matter how much your woman withholds sex, no matter how deviously she threatens to leave you if she doesn’t get the ring, you hold the trump card, the dick detonator, the MOAB in the eternal battle of the sexes — you can walk away, forever.

Exercise your right to walk.

Once you’ve walked you might be surprised to see her come running back to you, suitably chastened.

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How To Propose Like An Alpha Male

Despite my well-researched and logically unassailable warnings to the contrary, some of you who read me will someday decide to marry the woman of your best available options. If you do insist on acting in such a personally disadvantageous way, you should at least pop the question like an alpha male. That’s how you set a precedent.

Here are some suggestions.

Alpha move

“Whaddaya say we get hitched?”

Superalpha move

“Whaddaya say we get hitched, my number one bitch?” Then slip this ring on her finger:

If your woman is not willing to wear a ring with the diamond on the inside, away from public view, then you’ll have all the proof you need that she is a grubby status whore. This ring is pure deviousness; there is no way out for her. She can’t accuse you of cheapness; the diamond is in there. And if she wears it she can’t go around advertising her ring finger for inspection by all of her yenta friends to show that she is prettier than them to be able to land a man with discretionary cash to blow on a useless rock. I would almost be willing to spend cash money on this diamond ring just to see the look on my beloved’s face.

Alpha move

Walk up behind her, wrap your arms around her, lean over her shoulder, and while placing the ring box into her hand whisper in your deepest, most gravelly voice: “Let’s do this.”

Superalpha move

Same as above, but instead of an engagement ring box, put two tickets to Vegas and a brochure for the Elvis Chapel in her hand.

Alpha move

“You know, I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but… ah fuck it, let’s go crazy and get married, babe.”

Superalpha move

“You know why I’m asking you to marry me? Cause you’re the kind of girl who would sign a pre-nup. That’s what I cherish about you.”

Alpha move

“How long we been together? Five years? Ten years? It’s time…” Slide the ring box over to her.

Superalpha move

“May as well dot the i’s and cross the t’s and get married already.”

Alpha move

Take her to a secluded nature spot. Dance with her under the clear moonlight. Gaze into her eyes and slip the ring on her finger, saying nothing.

Superalpha move

Take her to a secluded nature spot. Dance with her under the clear moonlight. Gaze into her eyes and slip a handcrafted origami paper ring on her finger. Tell her “You know you want it, babe.”

Alpha move

“Marry me, lovechop.”

Superalpha move

“Marry me, dirty whore.”

You’ll note that the common theme to these examples is the refusal to drop to one knee or to ask for her hand in the traditional (read: beta) way. There is no “Will you marry me?” nauseating pleading, and there is certainly no doing it on your knees like the indentured servant you are about to become by agreeing to ratify your copulations with a marriage license.

Some alpha males get married for social or religious reasons, and for them following my proposal advice above will go a long way toward ensuring they enjoy many years of grateful wifery and minimal backtalk. But for the truly self-aware alphas who have transcended petty societal concerns and stifling tradition, marriage is seen for what it is — a self-inflicted prison sentence to curb one’s masculine allure. These men will never worry about when or how to propose, for the issue has been rendered moot by clear thinking.

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The Lie Of Locking Her In

It’s a nagging crescendo in my ear. Family is saying it, friends are hinting it: When are you going to settle down? Usually the words they use are along the lines of “Is she the one? You should think about sticking it out with this one. Do you want to be alone the rest of your life? Do you think you can play the field forever?”

Yes, I think I can play the field forever.

Why do people balk at those who choose the lifestyle of the love mercenary, of the wanderlust warrior? Envy, mostly. Sincere concern, rarely. These voices — social pressure that sows self-doubt — will influence most men. Very few men have the fortitude to live the life of Oswald Hendryks Cornelius. Marriage, and probable divorce, is in the cards for most men.

Why do men bother to get married? There’s really nothing in it for them. All that marriage offers a man can be had in a loving, long term relationship. So why? These are the best reasons rationalizations I can think of:

• I have to lock her in because the snatch must flow.

As any dead-eyed married man will tell you, the sex is always hottest until that first bite of wedding cake. Sure, marriage might mean fewer extended dry spells, and a more consistent output of pussy, but the quality of that output is going to take a nosedive.

Fact: Once in a secure relationship (and nothing is more secure for a woman than marriage — the law sees to that) a woman’s sex drive plummets. If you like your girl to move around a bit in bed and actually, you know, enjoy getting jackhammered by your beefy breach, marriage will see to it that she reads a trashy romance novel and sighs with boredom while asking “you done yet, honey?” while you huff and puff your way to another anti-climactic climax.

Fact: Women pack on the pounds after getting married. What good is consistent sex if it’s with a hippo? No wonder so many married men sneak away in the middle of the night to jack off to internet porn.

Fact: Your wife’s pussy will always be the same. Yep, one year, five years, ten years — that pussy looking back at you is like an old, very old, friend — that you no longer want to have sex with. Familiarity breeds contempt. When you’ve memorized the length and location of every pube and the droop of labia draggle, you’re going to ache for fresh meat. For men, variety is the spice of life. If older men maintained the libido of their younger selves you’d see extramarital affairs shoot through the roof.

• If I don’t marry her, she’ll leave me. And then I’ll be alone.

There are two things wrong with this reasoning. One, if you don’t have the confidence to score another woman in case of a break-up, then you don’t have the confidence to keep your current girlfriend attracted to you. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Think you’ll be alone, then you will be alone, even when you’re not. Or: Fear is the mindkiller.

Two, marriage is no insurance policy against being unceremoniously dumped. Maybe it was at one time, but not anymore. A woman loses NOTHING that can compare to what you will lose if she decides to divorce you. Worse, in 2009 America there is every incentive in the world for a woman to divorce at the slightest drop in her attraction for her husband. Financial, legal, social, sometimes even sexual. The god of biomechanics does not take a holiday from reality once you slip a ring on your beloved’s finger.

• I might not do better.

Sure, but then you could lament the same thing in non-marital relationships. Look at your LTR. You might not do better. Look at your fling. You might not do better. Look at your fuckbuddy. You might not do better. Look at that old pic of your college sweetheart. You might not do better.

So… how is marriage going to save you from this fear-induced soul searching? It’s not. If anything, marriage is only going to rub your face in your testicular impotence. If your wife thinks you can’t do better, she’ll begin to treat you like women treat every man who can’t do better — shittily. Except now, she’s got the long arm of the marital law on her side, so you don’t even have the option to find out if you can do better without taking a world class ramming up the ass. As bad as dry spells are, they’re even worse when the pussy you used to tap has closed up shop and taunts you nightly from across the bed.

• She’ll stop loving me if I don’t marry her.

Assbackwards. Women don’t stop loving men for any reason except one — he turned beta. What about cheaters? Nope. Talk to women about their most cherished loves. You’ll notice something. Scorned women harbor their deepest love for the men who gutted their hearts. Not marrying her is more likely to have the opposite effect; the more you resist, the stronger her love for you.

Sure, some women do eventually leave men when it becomes clear to them that they aren’t going to propose. But that’s not the same as losing love for those men.

• She’ll never agree to a non-marital long term relationship.

You’d be surprised how quickly women will agree to your terms when you have her gina tingle on lockdown. And if she doesn’t agree? Find yourself a woman who does. The mere threat of leaving her over this issue will often be enough to bring her around to your way of thinking.

• I’ll just get married when I’m older. Late marriages have a lower divorce rate.

The reason younger marriages fail more often than marriages later in life is because younger people in their 20s have more options in the sexual market. Options = instability.

But don’t crow about the benefits of later marriages. For one, older women don’t have as many prime fertile years left in which to bear children. Two, later marriages often feel more like business propositions than ecstatic vows of love. That is not a good thing.

• I’ll live longer as a married man.

Leaving aside that this statistic may be more myth than reality, what benefit is it to you to live a few extra years shuffling along painfully in well-worn slippers and gazing longingly outside windows at youth frolicking with the joy of health and vigor? My take on getting older: It’s immortality or bust.

• It’s the right thing to do.

Right thing? I don’t give a shit. Good man? Fuck you! Go home and play with your pud. You wanna good life — don’t close! You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this, how can you take the abuse you get in divorce proceedings?

• It’s good for society.

You’re right, it is. But since when did society give a fuck about you?

• But I really love her.

Did you not really love her before you dropped to one knee?

• I want to have kids.

This might be the only halfway acceptable reason to get married. If you want the best for your kids, raising them in a broken home is not the way to do it. But even here, women have the upper hand. No matter how much you love your kids, if a divorce happens (50% chance, 70+% chance the wife initiates it) you are going to be paying child support for the new lingerie your ex-wife buys to sexually please her blogger lover.

I don’t see how any man could want kids, though. Kids are a complete fun suck. They don’t get enjoyable until ages 11-13, after they’ve evolved from bratty ingrates and before they’ve turned into brooding ingrates. If men would think long and hard about kids, they’d come to the same conclusion I did: Changing diapers or sex in the woods? The choice is clear.

To all those imploring that I settle down, I say: Don’t hold your breath. Yes, I will get older. But then, I would have gotten older in a marriage, too. Yes, there is a risk I could live out my final, rapidly deteriorating years in solitude. But then, marriage is no guarantee of a life lived loved. A signature on a dotted line and a jointly filed tax return does not protect you from living loveless and solitary. There is also the small matter of my inquisitive eye. Even when I love the girl I’m with, it seems that when I’m out I can’t help but admire another beautiful woman in the vicinity, and to desire her in the most intimate manner. I imagine scenarios flirting with her, making her smile and her eyes sparkle, her legs cross and uncross in sublimated autoeroticism. This urge of mine does not have an off switch.

I know that hedonic convergence does not magically manifest in the gleam of a gold ring. Life is a parade of worry and high wire risk, of love and loneliness, and no socially manufactured arrangement exists to insulate you from your dreaded fears. To imagine otherwise is beta.

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Why Do Some Men Bang Below Their Level?

Take a look at this picture:

This is Steve Phillips, 46 year old ESPN baseball analyst and former Mets GM, with his 22 year old mistress, a lowly production assistant he met on the job. The bitch mistress filed for a restraining order against Phillips the day *after* she left a taunting letter with his wife saying she (the bitch mistress) and Steve were meant to be together. Chutzpah, thy name is woman.

(Note that stalker behavior is more likely to occur when the status differential between the man and woman is significant. A woman will fall in love VERY quickly and effortlessly with an alpha who deigns to dump a fuck in her, while this same woman would need years to decide whether she loves the provider beta who dotes on her.)

Here is a photo of Phillips’ aged wife, Marni, mother of his four children:

After viewing the first picture with much disgust and confusion, most of you were probably asking “What the HELL was he doing with her?” And you’d be right to wonder. Phillips is a good-looking dude, high status, and presumably loaded. There are thousands of hot 22 year old women who would gladly smoke his pole.

The mistress looks like a fat dyke. I’d rate her a beer-fueled 2. The only thing she has going for her is her youth (24 year age difference between Phillips and her), which goes to show that even an ugly dyke-ish 22 year old can be more sexually appealing to men than their aged wrinkled wives. Although after looking at the pic of Marni Phillips for many minutes of close examination, I’d have to conclude that it’d be a close call deciding which one I’d fuck. I think I’d choose Marni. Her boobs give much love.

So why do some men with options choose to date, or cheat with, unattractive women below their level?

First, keep in mind that the reason we notice weirdo combinations like Phillips and his pig-faced mistress is because they are so rare. We notice that which defies expectation, and we ignore that which is the same old same old. 99% of men with Phillips’ status are either dating or cheating with much hotter women. So don’t get your hopes up, ladies.

Remember, too, that what you see is not always what you get when a good-looking man slums it with an ugly woman. Because a man’s dating market value is determined by so many more variables than those which can be observed by the naked eye, we cannot always assume that a good-looking guy is high status in the same way we can safely judge a good-looking girl is high status. (A woman’s social status is based almost completely on her looks.) That good-looking guy with the ugly girl may have crippling personality flaws, no money, no job, no charisma, no humor, no self-confidence, no ambition, or no game. He may also be too lazy or fearful to put in the extra effort to get a girl closer to his level.

But these unusual dating disparity exceptions do exist, and here are the reasons why I think some high status men will choose to lay with gross women:

• Variety is the spice of life. Sometimes a new, ugly pussy is more rewarding than another night of the same, slightly less-ugly pussy.
• Convenience. Many alphas won’t make the minimal effort required to meet hot chicks in the wild savannahs of their cities. The pigmalion intern you see every day who will drop to her knees instantly to suck you off can be, from a cost-benefit calculation, the better deal of the moment.
• Pure laziness. Some men think it’s undignified, degrading, or less than manly (ha!) to actively chase women. They prefer to have the ugly pussy fall in their laps. This rationalization by lazy men is known as “sour grapes”. Unfortunately for them, it’s actually more degrading to bang an ugly woman than it is to pursue hotter women, even when that pursuit leads to rejection. There is honor in the chase.
• Insecurity. A powerful man with deep-seated psychological issues who likes to be in control may opt for the ugly mistress he can easily dominate. A hotter mistress would require more tact and manipulative ministrations to keep in line, a tall order which could send him into a self-hating spiral of spite. Some men don’t like a challenge; they prefer a supplicative sex slave. These are the same kinds of men who solicit hookers. Also see: laziness.
• Hidden lack of self-confidence. He’s alpha on the outside, beta on the inside.
• Paper alpha. There are men who are alpha with other men, but graceless, befuddled pussies with women. It’s not many, but they do exist.
• Youth is its own quality. A man quickly grows bored of sex with an old wife. An ugly 22 year old will suddenly start to look a lot more appealing than even sex with a “beautiful for her age” older wife.
• Experimentation. Many unattractive girls will do things in bed that a wife or a better looking woman would never do. If a girl is willing to accept A2M and post gym workout teabagging, she will bump up the queue.
• Odd fetishes. There are guys who like to fuck sheep. Rare outliers are part of the wonderful tapestry of humanity.

Some of you will suggest that maybe the ugly mistress has a sparkling personality, and Phillips was drawn to that. No. When a man is an alpha, women all around him, including hot ones, will suddenly have sparkling personalities. Bitch shields drop as fast as panties with the right man. Compatibility and sparkling personalities can be easily spoofed when the proper incentives are in place.

None of what I listed above should provide succor to weak, lazy men who wish to dumpster dive and enjoy their buddies’ approval at the same time. Steve Phillips forever sullied his good name by hooking up with this beast. If you’re going to take a mistress, be sure to take one who brings honor to the title.

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The Beta Crisis of American Men Marrying Older Women

Take me to the club where the boobs all hang
Give me old poontang that’s what I bang yeah
Hey take me to the club where the MILFs are queen
And from what I’ve seen that cooch is free

-Gonna use no game
-No need to mack
-Gonna get me some old maid
-Got a cougar on my back

Take me to the club where the ass hang down
Gonna grab that round – (yeah yeah yeah!)
Take me to the room where the young’s all old
And the old’s all bold take me back to her shack

-She don’t take no prisoners
-Gonna give me the business
-Got a cougar on my back
-It’s a cougar attack
[righteous drum solo]

Reader “Silver Fox” included a link in the comments to this New York Beta Times graphic showing that over the past 30 years more American men are marrying older women than themselves.

The betatization of the American male proceeds apace.

Naturally, the perpetual lie machine known as the mass media will play up a stat like this as proof that cougars are coming into their own, and strong men “secure in their masculinity” are beginning to “appreciate the older woman” and everything she has to offer, including her “higher sex drive”, “experience” and “full blossoming of her mature womanhood”.

As usual, they would be wrong. I will explain.

If we liken the typical cougar to a 1975 Toyota Corolla…

…then we can see that, if we were in a rush to get to the hospital and had no car at our disposal except this one, the Corolla with 250,000 miles on it would serve in a pinch to take us from point A to point B. Sure, it wouldn’t be the most fun ride, or the quickest ride, or the ride with the best handling (the torn vinyl on the heavily used bucket seats symbolize deep cleavage wrinkles), but it would do the job when we had a motor vehicle dry spell. Hell, tooling around in the Corolla for a few days might even be funny as an ironic hipsterly statement embracing the working class.

But goddamn if you’d be caught alive driving this POS on a daily basis, picking up your friends with it or tossing the keys to the valet to have it parked when you pull up to Bar Pilar. No man with car options would choose a 1975 Toyota Corolla as his daily commuter.

Analogously, you might entertain the notion of riding a cougar for a night if you’ve been suffering a six month pussy dry spell. You might even rationalize your decision to bang the cougar as a sort of statement against the patriarchy, or a mighty enlightened blow for 10th wave feminism. If your friends saw you leave the bar with the cougar, your face-saving embarrassment would compel you to sing the false praises of older women and how much they love sex and how well they suck dick.

But in the glaring, pore revealing light of morning, you’d turn over, take one look at your cougar conquest snoring fitfully next to you, and make for the exits like Road Runner. You would then feel so shitty about your dumpster diving that self-doubt would cripple your game for months. You’d retreat to the pallid glow of Creampie porn.

The NYBTimes graphic showing more men marrying older women should be viewed in light of my Corolla analogy. Men aren’t marrying older broads because they mysteriously and suddenly find them hotter than younger women; they’re marrying them out of necessity BECAUSE IT’S GOTTEN HARDER FOR THE AVERAGE BETA MALE TO MARRY THE YOUNGER WOMEN HE PREFERS.

What you are seeing in that graphic is a massive, paradigmatic shift in the sexual market. As the economic empowerment, entitlement complexes, and slut celebration of American women has reached epic proportions, they are living it up in their late teens and 20s with the alphas and settling down in their 30s and 40s with younger, desperate, easily controlled betas who serve as sub-par alpha substitutes when the alphas no longer desire them. The betas, for their part, would prefer to date and marry women younger than themselves, but they are being priced out of the younger woman market, and for many men a wet flabby hole is better than no hole.

The alphas, meanwhile, know it’s in their interest to use a woman during her prime and jettison her before marriage legally and financially binds him to an old jalopy. When an alpha does marry, he makes sure to marry a younger woman (preferably 10 years or more younger) so that he enjoys the ripeness of her sexuality for as long as possible. There are other benefits to older man-younger woman pairings — when he’s 50, and his younger wife is 35, she will seem relatively more attractive to him than she would to a 35 year old man. He will be more loving and attentive toward her than he would be to an “age appropriate” 50 year old wife.

The graphic above is a stark visual of just how betatized American men have become. They are so bereft of game and economic leverage over women that older wives now seem like an acceptable deal to them. They need to be schooled in the fine art of the ugly truths. First, I’d helpfully remind them that marrying a woman is a raw deal on its own, because all women are rapidly depreciating assets after age 25 or so who can take you for half your worth for no other reason than that they sport a vagina. Then I’d point out that marrying an *older* woman is like buying at full retail price in 2009 dollars a 1975 Toyota Corolla; she’s already past her physical peak, and he’d be lucky to get ten more miles out of her once he pedals her off the lot. It would be pissing money, and opportunities for better vehicles, away. It’s such an affront to nature when a younger man with the world before him marries an older woman that the Catholic Church should qualify it as a mortal sin.

Speaking of younger men marrying older women…

PS: A blast from the archived past!

PPS: And another!

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Women Want You To Cheat

Here’s a quote from a female commenter to an article about emotionally unavailable men that was posted over at one of those loser feminist sites that rhymes with Jizzabel:

This is me, I love my husband but every once in awhile I wish he weren’t so into me. I think I’m still emotionally unavailable but pretending not to be, because I know that deep down I do care about him, I’m just not really into caring yet.

The verdict is in: Women want men to cheat on them. Oh sure, they don’t *consciously* want their men to cheat, but unbeknownst to all but the most self aware women, their ginas tingle uncontrollably for men who can — and do — score some poon on the side.

Whenever a wife says she “cares about” her husband, you can bet her pussy has turned drier than Death Valley. Female “caring” is the anhedonic guilt blurt of the higher brain rationalizing the disgust of the hindbrain. This commenter’s marriage is doomed. Her husband is a romantic beta with visions of pedestals dancing in his head. He needs to pull back fast if there is any hope of avoiding divorce rape. Going to a hooker won’t cut it; the wifey needs to know her husband can win over women with his natural charms. Going to marriage counseling won’t cut it; tag teaming with a pseudoquack to berate her husband mercilessly while he sits there taking it like a dutiful herb schlub is no way to excite ginas. Doing more domestic chores won’t cut it; contrary to popular belief women aren’t aroused by men acting like women.

Here is my five point plan for saving faltering marriages:

1. Stop giving compliments, flattery, and gifts.
2. Come home from work late every night.
3. Buy yourself new, stylish clothes.
4. Cheat. If she asks, deny. No need to confess to the wife. She’ll be able to smell the competitor vaj juice on you.
5. After three months of executing the above four points, unexpectedly tell your wife her ass looks great.

I challenge any multiple credentialed psychotherapists to prove me wrong. My simple five point system based in a clearheaded understanding of male-female biosocial differences VERSUS the peer reviewed, academically accredited expertise practiced by the husband-shaming marriage counseling industry. Mano a mangino.

Care to bet whose solution saves more marriages?

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