The Conventional Wisdom

Many readers sent me this article from CNN.com called “18 things to teach your sons about women”. Juicy lede, eh? Because it was written by a woman attempting to give advice about men, there is much potential for unintended humor. As little as women know about their own natures, they know even less about men’s. I described in this post why this is so:

Since men are [primarily] the chosen in the mating dance, they have to be more aware of reality than do women. If men ignore reality, they risk involuntary celibacy. If a woman looks attractive (which is most of them during their prime fertile years), she can ignore reality to her heart’s content as unicorns and rainbows shower her in cellophane raindrops and still have suitors lined up around the block to fuck her.

So I’m not expecting much. The conventional wisdom has morphed into something resembling the “femifocal wisdom”, what with the mass media infiltrated by and geared toward women, with men being relegated to small outposts like “The World’s Most Dangerous Jobs: Ice Truckers”. Anytime you read an article in a putatively mainstream outlet like CNN, even a front page article, you are actually reading a woman’s warped point of view, which, truth be told, is worse than useless information — reading it will make most men’s lives more miserable.

These 18 bullet points of WHAT WOMEN WANT seem like perfect fodder for the whip-wielders at the Chateau to examine and flay to pieces.

1. Pick your battles.

Surprisingly, the author is off to a reasonable start. Alpha males (you know, the men women find most attractive) don’t sweat the small stuff. Let her win some of the insignificant arguments that don’t matter to you. Of course, you’ll put up a false front that the issue is extremely important to your manly sense of pride, so that when you finally cave she will be awash with gratitude and blowjobs love.

2. Walk on the outside (closer to the street) of your female companion.

Meh. Standard alpha procedure. The author intuitively understands (under the rubric of chivalry) that not all male body language is created equal. Some positions are more dominant than others. 2 for 2.

3. Saying “You’re being crazy” is never an appropriate response, unless you want her to go postal on you.

No doubt the author has been called crazy by a man she dated. I haven’t had too many women go postal on me because I correctly noted their crazy-assedness. If the bitch is crazy, it’s one of many appropriate responses. 2 for 3.

4. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of kids are things men can actually do as well as women.

Is she trying to teach her future son the fine art of living like a eunuch? While this is technically true for cooking and cleaning, (the evidence suggests men are not as psychologically equipped as women for the task of raising small children), in practice men don’t do these things as well as women because they have less interest in doing them. Women need to grasp that their demands for cleaner homes are *their* oddball proclivities; most men are perfectly content letting dust accumulate, books remain unshelved, and toddlers eat their poop. 2 for 4 for teaching your son to be more like a woman. All the furious fembot shrieking to the contrary, chicks don’t dig kitchen bitches, lady.

5. Keep backup supplies of quality chocolate in the house for her to raid.

For what? To fatten her up? 2 for 5.

6. Buying tampons and other feminine products shouldn’t embarrass you –everyone knows they’re not for you.

I actually once had a girlfriend leave me because I wouldn’t go into CVS to buy her tampons. That wasn’t the sole reason for the breakup, of course, but it was one straw too many on the camel’s back. If she’s with you, she buys the feminine products, and you buy the masculine products. This is the way of the universe. To do otherwise is the way of the eunuchracy. 2 for 6.

7. Women like compliments and gifts.

Correction: Women like compliments and gifts in small doses and when least expected. A man must make his woman earn her specialness. I’ll give her this one out of mercy. 3 for 7.

8. Earning less than her shouldn’t be emasculating.

Put “shouldn’t” in one hand and “but it will” in the other, and see which one fills up first. Exception: If you are a man with game or other positive male attractiveness attributes, you can afford to handicap yourself in relative relationship earning power (RREP). 3 for 8.

9. Be on time, even if she usually isn’t.

Massive correction: Never be on time during the courtship phase, and occasionally be late while in a relationship, even if she usually *is* on time. 3 for 9.

10. Don’t be a pouty puppy when shopping with her.

How about “Don’t be a pouty puppy… ever”? Blatantly obvious. If you hate shopping, smack her ass and tell her to have fun, you’re going golfing. Women tingle ginarrifically for men with limits. 4 for 10.

11. Find out what her favorite flower is.

This is a good one, and true. I have had success recalling my girl’s favorite flower and giving it to her at a later date. It’s a small token of affection that will cost you almost nothing. 5 for 11.

12. If you like her, then don’t buy her shoes; it’s bad luck.

Never heard this before, but I’d say it’s a bad move to buy her shoes regardless of the karmic retribution. Do you really want to positively reward the blossoming of her latent princess? 6 for 12.

13. Smiling and nodding aren’t the same as listening.

But they’re close enough for government work. However, most men should do a better job of listening, if for no other reason than that it helps them get out of their heads and into the moment. 7 for 13.

14. It’s OK to cry in front of her, but keep the blubbering to a minimum.

No, it’s not, unless he knows how to emote like an alpha. 7 for 14.

15. Personality goes a long way.

True, but trite. The author is really putting herself out there! 8 for 15.

16. At some point she’ll be more important than your mother.

I hear this lament from women in the media constantly, but in reality how many men remain stuck at the teat of their mothers? Most men I know hardly ever talk about their moms. Maybe this a racial thing, or a *cough* Jewish thing, but my experience is that the momma’s boy complaint is overblown. 9 for 16 for being so brave to tell a hackneyed truth.

17. You will never completely understand women.

Keep telling yourself that, toots. The lid is blown off this joint. 9 for 17.

18. Oh yeah, and no woman will ever be good enough for my baby!

What if she’s pre-Seal Heidi Klum? 9 for 18.

***

The author, a representess of the gina-soaked conventional wisdom, didn’t do too badly. 50%. With some more study into the true nature of men and women she could bump up to an F+, thereby giving her hypothetical son a chance to avoid getting LJBF’ed for the entirety of his teens and 20s. But if we were grading on a curve, she would earn a zero, because half of her points are so vaguely prosaic that it would be impossible to find fault with them, and the half that have some meat on the bone are horrendously ignorant of reality.

Now if it were me giving advice to my hypothetical son, I’d steer him down the path of illumination.

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The Romans Didn’t Like Fat Chicks Either

More evidence that thin has always been in. (Hat tip: Reader SB7.) The fourth century Romans of the Villa Romana del Casale and the surrounding town of Platia created mosaics of slender babes well within the optimal 17 – 23 BMI range frolicking in bikinis while playing outdoor games and generally looking cute.

Not a BBW or chubster in sight!

I feel the spirit of Dr. Seuss move me.

Do you like
chicks shaped like ham?
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.
I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.

Would you like them
now or then?

I would not like them
now or then.
I would not like them ever again.

I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Would you like them in your bed?
Would you like them giving head?

I do not like them
in my bed.
I do not like them
giving head.
I do not like them
now or then.
I do not like them
ever again.
I do not like
chicks shaped like ham.
I do not like them,
Sam-I-am.

Would you eat them
in their box?
Would you poke them
with your cox?

Not in their box.
Not with my cox.
Not in my bed.
Not giving head.
I would not poke them
here or there.
I would not poke them anywhere.
I would not poke chicks made of ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

I’ll be in all zee veek!

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The Myth Of The Medieval BBW

Ugly women, feminists, and fat chicks hate that men have attractiveness standards. It’s been as long as I can remember that mustachioed lezbo academics and their impressionable vajlings have been claiming that prehistoric drawings and figurines supposedly depicting fatass broads prove that female beauty standards are malleable and culturally conditioned. Riiiight. My first post-puberty boner at age fourteen for the cute, slender brunette down the street wouldn’t have happened without messages from TV telling me thin chicks are in.

Now it turns out all those ancestral BBW figurines that so enamor the sort of feminists who loathe male desire may not have been sex objects or symbolic mother/goddess figures at all. (Link via Dienekes.)

Made by Neolithic farmers thousands of years before the creation of the pyramids or Stonehenge, they depict tiny cattle, crude sheep and flabby people.

In the 1960s, some researchers claimed the more rotund figures were of a mysterious large breasted and big bellied “mother goddess”, prompting a feminist tourism industry that thrives today.

But modern day experts disagree.

They say the “mother goddess” figures – which were buried among the rubbish of the Stone Age town – are unlikely to be have been religious icons.

Many of the figures thought to have been women [by researchers] in the 1960s, are just as likely to be men.

Somewhere among my readership a fat chick just wept big bloated tears of ice cream.

Even more disheartening for the cultural conditioning crowd and BBW goddess true believers, there is evidence that prehistoric men carved plenty of sexy, slender babes for their viewing pleasure. And in mini-skirts, to boot! Yes, Cosmo B.C. must have been warping teenage minds 7,500 years ago.

“What about Rubens?!” squeal the fatties. Well, many of Rubens’ late medieval European contemporaries, such as Botticelli and Cranach, painted slender babes. And Rubens himself deviated from his fat fetish to paint normal weight women. Furthermore, it is likely that Rubens was not painting masturbation material for the masses. If he was, he probably would have ended up like Francisco de Goya, who *did* paint erotically posed slender women.

Goya was summoned by the Spanish Inquisition to explain who commissioned the “obscene” art.  I don’t know what Goya told them but he lost his job as the Spanish court painter, and this was as late as the early 19th century, though in southern Europe.  Goya’s nude maja comes close to modern erotic pinup art/photography and is the type of art that is most likely to represent the artist’s preferences or those of his contemporaries, but it doesn’t depict an overweight woman.  What were the chances of a painter coming up with something similar when the Church ruled?

If your paintings would have caused hard-ons to spring up among the drooling public, the Church would have had a word with you.

Bottom line: There is no evidence that Rubens’ paintings of unpleasantly plump women were representative of the kind of women that most men of his time considered hot. Except for a few weird outliers like the Mauritanians and fatty fuckers like Rubens, and allowing for some minor variation in female attractiveness standards between the major races, the vast majority of men across cultures and historical generations have lusted for thin young women (BMI 17 – 23) with 0.7 waist-hip ratios and feminine dispositions. No amount of railing against the “system” or engaging in sophistic pseudoacademic hocus-pocus is gonna change this fact.

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Sluts Are Not Less Discriminating

We were drunk. Words we would later wish hadn’t been spoken came tumbling forth.

HER: Amber got a fuckbuddy. She couldn’t wait around forever for a boyfriend.

ME: What’s forever? Ten minutes?

HER: There’s nothing wrong with having a fuckbuddy.

ME: Have you ever had a fuckbuddy?

HER: I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with it!

ME: Holy crap, you’ve had fuckbuddies?!

HER: [open mouthed stare]

ME:

HER: [getting visibly nervous] What? I’m not saying *I’ve* had fuckbuddies.

ME: Jesus, are we talking double digits?

HER: Oh, like you’re one to talk.

ME: [thinking about the girl with the purple saguaro] You know, vibrators were invented for those downtimes!

The next weeks were spent with me recalibrating the pseudovirginal goodness of my woman. Clearly I had missed some red flags. Then I wondered how widespread the fuckbuddy phenomenon was. I wistfully pondered my past conquests. Memories that were once bathed in divine light suddenly acquired a darker hue. Emily? Yep, she must have had a fuckbuddy at some point. Julia? A stable of fuckbuddies. Kim? Doubt she could even make it through the day without a cock buried to the hilt.

I give sluts a hard time when they attempt to redefine the terms of debate with sophistic pretty lies. No doubt they do this because they know, deep down inside, that being a slut is gonna lower their value in the sexual market, and that’s the value that matters most, because it resides at the core of all other values. Nonetheless, my glee at tearing apart the lies sluts tell themselves shouldn’t be confused with animosity toward the sluttastic lifestyle. Sluts provide a valuable public service to guys like me — namely, a clearer path to sexual release. I also want to be able to identify them early on so I know to cross them off my potential girlfriend list, and to double up on the condoms.

There was a time, way back when I was a stripling, that I imagined a world full of slutty girls would be a boon for beta males. Experience with sluts has shown me otherwise. While they may be less discriminating in how often and how quickly they spread their legs, their rebuke of natural female restraint doesn’t necessarily translate to a similar rebuke of choosiness. Bad news for the betas: Sluts are slutty, just not with you. Sluts share the same target acquisition system for the top 20% of males as all women do. Hypergamy uber alles.

Reader Tupac left this comment:

Even if the women only garner a few pump-n-dumps out of such men, they are now keyed in on tenor, timber, warp and weft of the day-to-day life habits of such men and in so doing acquire a more finely honed radar for lesser men who don’t “make the cut.”

True. It may seem counterintuitive, but a loose, cavernous chick will often be *less* forthcoming with her sexual favors if the man she is with exhibits the tentative meekness of a beta.

Reader Arpagus:

And thus it comes to pass that sluts tend to be *more* picky than women with few prior partners, in a kind of twisted paradoxical way. If you are beta, don’t get your hopes up because a woman has had 80 sex partners. Someone with 5 is more likely to sleep with you, perhaps even a virgin.

Sluts may be pickier than chaste women about weeding out the betas, due to their spoiling from illusory experiences with alpha males, but they are far less modest within the circle of alphas for whom they readily part their furrows. That is why, when you hear a girl has racked up 80 partners, you should make the necessary qualification: She has racked up 80 alpha male partners who used her like a convenient sperm receptacle until something better came along.

Naturally, as you slide down the female attractiveness scale (but before you hit the 2s and below), you’ll find more sluts, and sluts more willing to slum it with betas and omegas, because easy access to their wet holes is all they have left to barter. This explains the phenomenon of fat chicks getting more sex than hot slender babes. In response to someone’s contention that fat girls have all the fun, I wrote the following comment over at the FeministX blog:

more precisely, [fat chicks] are too busy getting pumped and dumped. fat chicks have higher cock counts because in their desperation to snag a loyal boyfriend they open their thunder thighs for all and sundry hoping the easy access will win a man’s heart. the higher value women can afford to be more discriminating.

There’s more bad news for betas hoping to drain their blue balls in sluts. Not only are sluts more apt to restrict their no muss no fuss sexual favors to high(er) status men, they find it harder to emotionally bond with men, particularly men who are lower status than the highest status men they fucked. This isn’t entirely the sluts’ fault. If blame is to be placed, it should go equally to the alpha males who occasionally dumpster dive with less attractive women. There is no surer way to raise a woman’s hopes of winning a high quality boyfriend than to have an alpha seduce her for a night, give her the hottest sex she’s had in years, and then leave in the morning and not call back for weeks. Once a woman has had that faint hope instilled in her, she can go months or even years rejecting more suitable beta males in favor of pining forlornly for that one alpha male who will certainly, she tells herself, come around and decide she’s a catch worthy of commitment. And the sluttier she has been, the more fly-by-night alpha males she’ll have lodged in her memory to pine over.

A few years of getting her heart broken again and again, and even the most romantically idealistic slut will turn crassly cynical. And cynicism is the venom that slowly clots the lifeblood of love.

Interestingly, this is further proof that female obesity, just as much as the other factors I’ve written about, has heavily (heh) skewed the mating market against the interests of the average man. Not only does a growing mass (double heh) of fat women result in fewer acceptable partners for men and thus more intense competition for the remaining thin babes, but the fatties have likely poisoned their ability to bond with men because of their history of getting pumped and dumped by promiscuous alphas.

The fate of America may very well hinge on getting her women to push away from the table.

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Never Take Girl Advice From A Beta Or A Gay Man

In what has to be one of the most ignorant interpretations of game and its associated techniques I’ve read in a long time, some mincing little betaboy named Conor Friedersdorf, who looks like he was born to be a stay-at-home cuckold, wrote an article lashing out at men who dare to learn how better to attract women. Andrew Sullivan, the jihadist Homosexualist gay man who knows what it’s like being a straight man picking up women, gave Conor (what a precious name!) a platform on his blog to berate men who use negs as a courtship tactic. Conor found great offense in a post he read by occasional commenter Sebastian Flyte at his blog Elysium Revisited, and cried emo tears of sanctimonious envy that his cotton candy la-la land of soulmates and Hollywood love was being crapped on so mightily by men who know a thing or two about how women operate.

Of course, the belief that one acts amorally by manipulating women quickly leads to abhorrent behavior. The rogue who is zealous for sexual conquest at least understands that he acts badly if he uses deception to get sex. The cerebral “player,” exemplified by [Sebastian Flyte], doesn’t grasp that anything is the matter with his behavior.

As a result, he is quite unabashed as he describes a male behavior that I’ve observed on many occasions, and that I abhor more than any other mainstream pickup technique. Though I’d never heard it referred to as such, Sebastian Flyte dubs it “the Neg,” and calls it “the Swiss army knife of pickup.”

All goal-oriented communication is a form of manipulation. When you try to convince a friend to see a movie that you saw and loved, you are attempting to manipulate your friend’s emotions so that he cannot resist the urge to go see it himself. Manipulation is as permanent and commonplace a feature of the human condition as is eating. Some of us are just better at it than others.

Friedersdork “abhors” the neg. It’s “abhorrent behavior”. Funny that something so abhorrent should cause women to respond so positively to its use.

I’ve never seen anyone do this to a woman [the neg] who hasn’t seemed to me a complete asshole even beforehand — and I’ve been dismayed at the frequency with which it works.

Betas like Conor HATE HATE HATE alpha males. The guy who doesn’t kiss up to women like the proudly chivalric beta champion of all that is noble and good is an automatic asshole. What motivates this tepid beta spittle? Is it that assholes discredit the Power of the Pedestal that betas reflexively place women upon? A lifetime of illusions shattered by one well-placed neg? I bet Conor is a feminist.

Fascinating, isn’t it? The author perceives a world wherein women unjustly pass over beta males in favor of alpha males. He justifies the insults in the same way that MIA justifies Third World robbery and murder: as a tool that is the only choice of the dispossessed to achieve equality.

This must be a first. Freidersdorf compared the neg to robbery and murder. A helpful clue, Conor: Women *like* being negged. It turns them on like a nice rack and a tight ass turns on men. Robbery and murder victims don’t get sexually intrigued by their assailants as far as I know.

Over at Sullivan’s histrionically Ghey Emporium of Steroidal Delights, our intrepid Master of His Own Domain further reflects on the seduction community and posts comments from readers.

The difference [between a neg and a compliment] is that while compliments or put downs can be either truthful or disingenuous, only put downs lower the self-esteem of the target. In most contexts, it seems obvious that it is wrong to gratuitously put people down for selfish ends. Why is dating different?

Newflash: The mating market is inherently selfish. How many women are offering free pussy access to homeless bums or pining niceguys? How many women expect *absolutely nothing* from a boyfriend or husband? You are a product, on display in a window case, for potential mates to inspect and deem worthy or unworthy. This goes for men and women. Humans are not exempt from the basic laws of the market just because we have the mental capacity to gussy up the dismal bartering of our innate goods and services with soul-sparing pretty lies.

Newsflash #2: Negs aren’t insults. They are edgy teasing. Is this distinction so difficult to grasp?

Newsflash #3: If “putting down” women is so wrong, why does it feel so right to them?

That some men cannot understand this really boggles my mind, and makes me suspect that they aren’t even thinking of women as being people (interestingly, some of these men seem to think of women as less than human, and others as superhuman). Every man can imagine how he would feel if a woman approached him at a bar, assessed his dress or some physical feature, and breezily made some cutting public remark: “You dress like a guy who has a small dick.” Yet numerous correspondents seem utterly unable to imagine that women might also feel badly if criticized this way.

Conor Friedersdorf, beta of the month candidate, has no understanding of negs.

Moreover, if I concede that some women find these kinds of put-downs thrilling — I’ll do so for the sake of argument — the problem remains that a guy out approaching strangers in a bar cannot reliably distinguish between that kind of woman, if indeed she exists, and the kind of woman who’ll be quite wounded by a deprecating remark made about her by a stranger.

Conor Freidersdorf suffers from the same mental disease that afflicts most betas and all women — the frantically held belief that women are individual wonders of joy and incomprehensible mystery who cannot ever be generalized about. Except that their belief is bogus. Women mostly share the same criteria in what they find attractive in men, and beautiful women with high sexual market value share these criteria even more strongly than less attractive women who must compromise more to find a mate. Men don’t need to reliably distinguish between women who like getting negged and women who don’t, because almost all women like it. It’s part of their prehistoric coding. The only distinctions men need to take into account when deciding whether to use a neg are the hotness of his targets and the edginess of his negs. The less hot the chick relative to his own status, the lighter he can go on the negs without dooming himself to rejection or the LJBF zone.

[T]hose who use “the neg” concede that the pickup techniques they use succeed in part because they are unabashed about getting shot down many times in a night before they find someone for whom the technique works. Thus “the neg” is used on many women who are insulted but unsold, and who haven’t any intention of having casual sex.

Selection bias is an overused gotcha! counterargument by betas who wish to believe men cannot control how many women find them attractive. They think they are onto the “real” reason PUAs do well with women — numbers of approaches! game only works on girls that game works on! — but they are engaging in tautological handwaving. Certainly there is a learning curve where a guy will approach a lot of women to get his technique down pat, but once his skills are acquired he can dial down his approaches to the same number of women he approached before he learned game and still experience much greater success.

Advice: being yourself from the beginning might result in fewer relationships begun — but it’ll also result in fewer relationships lost.

This sounds like the happy slogan of beta self-abnegators anonymous, but the opposite could just as easily be true. If being yourself results in fewer relationships begun, it will also result in losing more of the few relationships you do manage to get. For if women don’t like aspects of your personality up front, they are going to like those aspects even less two years deep into an LTR.

This pretty lie is heard so often by guys like Conor that it’s become a Rorschach test for glimpsing the sordid inner workings of the beta mind. To the typical equalist pissbucket beta, there is no such thing as a useful generalization. Women are all individual creatures of deep deep individuality who go for all kinds of men. So maybe you can arouse that girl over there by using a neg on her, but there are ten more girls who would never fall for it. So you must… MUST… treat women as individuals. Eventually, you’ll find that perfect match who LOVES YOU FOR YOU. Nevermind that a guy like Johnny Depp or Scott Peterson gets thousands of times more attention from women than Milton the stapler guy.

Friedersbeta goes on to quote his favorite reader e-mail:

How does one determine if a pickup technique has “worked”? What counts as success? You say that “the neg” does indeed work sometimes. What does that mean? I guess it depends on what the pickupper’s goals are. But I bring this up because that discussion about pickup techniques seemed to assume that women are all looking for nice guys to have solid relationships with – they could be seduced by “the neg” and then get burned. But women can spot pickup techniques that are disrespectful and still respond positively (outwardly). A man who uses “the neg” or some other slimy pickup technique can be taken to be someone whose feelings are not of great importance. So he could be used for free drinks, free tickets, meaningless sex, whatever – and all without guilt because, hey, he’s no better, right? It may not be moral, but it is fair. A man’s pickup techniques can signal exactly where he belongs on the relationship food chain. Has a guy who has used “the neg” and then ends up buying lots of drinks been successful? Depends on if he likes buying women drinks, I guess.

I hate to break it to this reader, but a man who knows about negs and uses them to great effect is a man who is smart enough to know not to buy women drinks. Until after sex. Heh.

Beta of the Month candidate:

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Self-Defeating “Romantic” Lines You Should Never Say

There are times when we men can’t help but gush our feelings of love for our woman. It’s Ok. Passionately pouring out your heart is not inherently un-alpha. But there is a right way and a wrong way to do it. For instance, right ways:

“I love you more than you will ever know.”

“I thought about your smile today.”

“I want to kiss you all over and make love to you all night.”

“My gargantuan member throbs for your squeezebox.”

Notice a pattern? Alpha passion is proactive, assertive, conspicuously noncommital, temporally ambiguous, and decidedly non-goopy. Here are the wrong (beta) ways to express your love:

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

Way to demonstrate lower value, champ.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Just what a girl wants to hear — she’s with an unworthy man. This is David Alexander’s go-to line.

“Our hearts beat like one.”

Homo say what?

“I love you SOOOOOOOO much.”

Are you a 15 year old girl?

“You are my everything.”

Poon Commandment III: You shall make your mission, not your woman, your priority. (Chicks dig guys drawing up blueprints for world domination.)

“I couldn’t go on without you.”

What she hears: “If you dump me I’ll kill myself.”

“Say you’ll never leave me.”

What she hears: “I’m a loser who can’t get another woman.”

“I will always love you.”

Great. You just gave her carte blanche to act like a high maintenance prom queen.

“You pooped in my toilet, and I haven’t flushed it in a week.”

This could work as humor if you say it deadpan. But if your eyes well up with tears and you clutch your chest in anguish while saying it, the effect will be ruined.

See the difference? Beta passion is needy, desperate, cloying, self-effacing. Some might argue that the whole idea of passion is to drop pretense and embrace the freedom of vulnerability, but I disagree. A woman’s alpha radar never stops monitoring for beta blips on her emotional space, so the next time she complains that you don’t show your soft side enough, you can take that to mean you’re doing your job, Skittles Man. Anyhow, it’s better to be romantic through actions rather than words.

If you do slip up and catch yourself uttering one of the above sappy beta romantic lines, you can save face by immediately following up with “… for me to poop on!”. Yes, even for the last one.

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Washington Post Fembot Tells Cuckold ‘Suck It Up’

A diligent reader emailed me a ‘Beta of the Month’ submission about a guy who fears he may have been cuckolded and who turns to a Washington Post advice columnist for support in his time of need. I read the article and decided that the real value to be gleaned was not in the unearthing of stupefying betatude (after all, at Chateau Heartiste where the better angels of humanity are handcuffed to bedposts and repeatedly gangbanged by their demonic cousins, mewling cuckolds are mere run of the mill betas), but in the reply to the beta chump by Carolyn Hax, a Washington Post Style columnist.

I reprint the column in full along with my remarks, so that you may glimpse the true face of woman.

Here is the original cry of anguish by the man who believes his child is not of his beta loin:

Hi, Carolyn:

I’m writing to you because I don’t know who else to ask. My wife and I have been happily married for six years. We have a beautiful daughter, age 2. For about the past six months I have suspected my daughter isn’t really “mine.” I have never suspected my wife of cheating on me, but for a number of reasons I cannot quiet my suspicions about the baby. I have not confronted my wife because I know that might devastate our marriage. But I have to know. What should I do?

Suspicious

If a man suspects his wife has cuckolded him, the odds of his child not being his rise to 30%. The general nonpaternity rate is around 4%. Low confidence “fathers” are right to be worried. Cuckoldry is serious business because it is the female form of rape.

So by the second sentence I know this guy is a Natural Born Beta. It’s always the guys getting most screwed by their wives who persist in believing they are “happily married” seconds before she’s caught with her boss’s dick in her mouth. Another telltale sign of the beta: If he cajoles tepid sex out of his wife once a month he thinks that is proof the marriage is full of love. If you want to know how well a marriage is doing, don’t look at the husband’s face for hints of marital bliss; look at the wife’s face.

Now we’ll examine the Style columnist’s family counseling advice. You may want to prepare a crucifix and garlic.

Give careful thought, please, to what you “have to” know.

This is going to be good. The first words out of her mouth are a slopbucket of shame aimed straight at… the man.

When just seeking the truth could change your life in dramatic and irreversible ways, it’s best to start not by actually doing something but by inviting each possible truth into your imagination as fact.

What the fuck does she mean here? This is postmodern therapeutic age gibberish squared. Nonsense on stilts. “Invite each possible truth into your imagination as fact”? Screw action, just imagine everything is true. Embrace the female way: Wallow in your psychodrama while getting nothing accomplished. It’s no wonder the newspaper empire is crumbling with the third rate hacks they have writing for them nowadays. I spewed more sensible shit after a 12 hour dorm room pot and Milwaukee’s Best bender.

That way, you can figure out the way you want your life to look before you start saying things you might regret.

Wait, did I miss something, or did Miss Hax Off Your Balls just guilt trip the guy who got cuckolded?

If your life were a physical structure, this would be the “blueprint before sledgehammer” approach.

Translation: If you just take a breather and don’t let your anger and pain get the best of you, you’ll find that life as a beta provider for an alpha’s kid isn’t so bad. Your wife will love you for your measured approach and self-sacrifice, and the most important thing is to keep your wife happy, right? Right? At the very least…

…do it for the children.

If your “number of reasons” points to infidelity, for example, then you need to imagine the worst, and assume your wife did cheat — Imaginary Scenario 1 — and then you need to decide whether you’d want to stay in the marriage or leave.

I’d think the decision would be self-evident, but hey, we’re talking about spineless betas and amoral women here, so everything is up for grabs. Bizzaro America!

If the answer is to stay (Scenario 1a), then you need to ask yourself, is that outcome better served by not digging into the past?

If the guy decides to stay and prove to the world what a pathetic sap he is, then I suppose he deserves the indignity of having his worthlessness as a man rubbed in his face every time his non-kid is in the same room with him. If he’s that low on the self-esteem pole then he might be able sack down and survive eighteen years without once mentioning his wife’s whoring and the kid who doesn’t look anything like him. I can imagine the thoughts going through his head, when years later our protagonist is coaching his daughter’s soccer team: “Wow, she’s so athletic and assertive. And so attractive, too. Maybe it’s for the best that my genes weren’t passed on. Life is beautiful!”

If the answer is to leave (1b), are you ready to challenge your paternity — or have it challenged by your at-that-point-estranged wife?

1b? Is this superfluous numbering system supposed to make her sound scientific? Maybe it’s just my male logic, but if the guy decides to leave the marriage on account of strong evidence — say, oh I dunno, a paternity test — that he is a cuckold, then it wouldn’t much matter if his cheating whore of a wife is estranged from him or challenges what he already challenged.

If, on the other hand, your suspicions are based solely on your child’s appearance, then you need to ask yourself if you’re being irrational; genes are a lot more complicated than the “She has a cleft chin and therefore can’t be mine” parlor games would suggest.

More shame. You starting to notice a pattern? This is what women do when they have nothing left to fall back on but hollow arguments. Fact: Babies look more like their fathers than their mothers. This is an evolutionary adaptation that ensures fathers will stick around to care for the infant. “Cleft chin” red herring notwithstanding, if the guy thinks his kid doesn’t look like him and therefore could be the cable guy’s kid, he’s got a 30% chance of being dreadfully right.

But let’s say instead you have an unshakeable gut instinct that this is someone else’s child. If you’re right, then the percentages would be obviously (and heavily) in favor of infidelity, which loops you back to Scenario 1.

Still, you can’t entirely rule out the rarer than rare, yet not unprecedented, hospital error — Scenario 2 —

She’s flailing.

so you also have to imagine your way through to the conclusion of a different worst-case altogether: If the baby turns out to be neither yours nor your wife’s biological child, would you still love this baby?

Alpha answer: No.
Beta answer: No, but I’ll say yes because it’s what’s expected of me.

Want to raise her?

Alpha answer: Hello, orphanage drop off box!
Beta answer: My wife said she’ll stop giving me biannual handjobs if I don’t say I’ll love the child as if it were my own.

Want to find your biological child and switch?

Style columnist Hax either has a weak grasp of human nature, or a weak grasp of rhetorical devices.

In other words, would it make a difference if this were error vs. deception?

No. If it was a hospital error, then the wife should be equally pleased as her husband to know the truth. Their marriage would remain strong, or at least viable, as they made arrangements with the hospital to find their true baby and swap kids with the other victimized family who mistakenly got their kid.

If it was deception, then their marriage (hopefully, but you can never know for sure with these congenital betas) will dissolve, but the cuckold will have spared himself the humility and genetic metadeath of providing for another man’s legacy with his sweat and tears while his own sad seed withers to dust.

If you decide you’d want this child no matter what, then the question becomes, again, why you’d want to risk everything to scratch even a torturous itch.

Is the idea of robbing a man of eighteen years of his life and a chance to bear and love his own children meaningless to this Style columnist? Here’s an analogy, Miss Hax, you could try wrapping your twisted cancerous soul around: A man getting cuckolded is the moral equivalent of a woman getting secretly implanted with another woman’s fertilized egg, giving birth to it, and raising it for eighteen years.

Is any of this getting through to you? Bitch?

And finally: What if you started digging, wrecked your marriage and learned your daughter is “yours”?

Q-tip swab of the kid’s cheek while the wife is away takes two seconds. He can have the sample tested with no one the wiser. If the kid is his, hey, he can sleep easy at night and feel good about helping his kid with her homework. The proof of his paternity might even motivate him to go down on his wife. If the kid isn’t his, the marriage was wrecked long before he “started digging”.

I urge you to imagine your way down every painful avenue here, best cases as well as worst.

Translation: I urge you to find it in your heart to put aside your doubts for the good of your wife and bastard child.

Then, once you’ve figured out what you can live with emotionally, please, if you’re considering any action at all, have a lawyer vet it legally.

Vet? Vetting is beta. Get the paternity test done before consulting any lawyers, and when you do get a lawyer with test results in hand, make sure your wife doesn’t find out about any of it until you slap her with the divorce papers. You don’t do battle with a whore by playing nice.

Only then can you be confident whether truth-seeking serves your interests — and your family’s — or smashes them to bits.

Shame! It’s what’s for dinner! Gotta love her admonishing a cuckold — the victim, remember? — that he needs to serve his family’s interest along with his own. I guarantee every woman reading this Post article nodded their heads in agreement with the author, and probably quite a few limpwristed faggy SWPL betaboys agreed, too. A better illustration of the second class status of beta males in society — as foretold by our evolutionary heritage — would be hard to find. Women are simply assumed to be moral paragons and Vestal Virgins, and betas are… there to be ransacked.

Give, betas, give till it hurts. And when the hurt begins, don’t bitch and moan about your endless torment. Just keep giving. While you’re paying the last ounce of tribute in self-respect, here’s some porn to keep your senses dulled.

***

Whenever I read articles by women attempting to grapple with the evil of cuckoldry, the impression I am always left with is one of fear. I can smell the fear in their words. It emanates from every ill-conceived shaming maneuver and transparent rationalization. The emptiness of their amoral excuse-mongering is beyond lame.

“If you confront your wife over her cheating your family will shatter.”

If she cheated the family is already shattered.

“You have to suck it up for the good of the child.”

She should have thought of the child’s welfare before spreading wide for the alpha interloper to blast in her pussy.

“What good will come of the truth?”

Good has got nothing to do with it. But justice and dignity do. Not to mention the Darwinian prime directive.

Finally, my favorite of all the cuckoldry excuser tactics:

“Be the GOOD MAN and take one for the team. After all… *wink wink*… it’s not like you’re gonna find another woman.”

To which a man should answer in the only way acceptable: FUUUUUUUCK YOU.

The fear coming from women when the spotlight is on efforts by men to expose cuckoldry is perfectly understandable. Humans fear most the loss of mating power, and the prerogative of women to get impregnated on the sly with an alpha while foisting the bill on a beta is a hardwired preference millions of years old. Any threat to the established order, especially an existential threat as game-changing as DNA paternity testing, will send women into involuntary apoplexies of hair-raising moral myopia. The beastly decrepitude of their animal souls will lay bare for all to see.

Hallmark doesn’t make cards for moments like these.

The first Sexual Apocalypse was heralded by the death song of the following Four Sirens: the Pill, No-Fault Divorce, Economic Gender Egalitarianism, and Misandrist Laws. But a new era is upon us. As I see it, the future of humanity will radically change once again with the coming of the Three Horsemen of the Second Sexual Apocalypse:

Widespread, accurate and accessible paternity testing.
The male Pill.
Realistic sexbots.

Paternity testing alone is enough to alter women’s sexual behavior in a big way. Mandatory paternity testing is already on the docket in some legislatures. There have been hopeful signs of justice being served. It’s not enough to say “Well, only 3-4% of women cuckold their husbands. So really, not much will change.” The impact isn’t in the marginal loss of cuckoldry as a mating strategy, but in the *perception* of loss by *all* women. Even the most faithful, loving wife has the corrupt core of a cheating whore buried deep in her hindbrain. Blasting rays of sunlight on her gnarled, caged id won’t be met with good cheer. I predict very few fertile-age women will be emotionally invested in men’s paternity rights, and in fact most of them will advocate against it. Pussywhipped beta males and opportunistic alpha males sufficiently sequestered from the negative consequences of their decisions will likely defend the women in hopes of short term gain in payment of sexual favors. If you think alpha males of middling resources would vigorously support mandatory paternity testing, remind yourself who benefits the most from cuckoldry.

Here is Miss Hax’s contact info:

Write to Tell Me About It, Style, 1150 15th St. NW, Washington, D.C. 20071, or tellme@washpost.com.

It would be fun if my readers sent her a link to my post under the ruse of fan mail. The goal isn’t to change her mind — no, that will never happen — the goal is to drive a chainsaw through her soul. To make her hurt. To sear her ego with the harsh, ugly truth. Sadism is an exquisite pleasure for those practitioners trained in the art of administering it.

***

A final note: I will play therapist for a moment and give proper counseling to Mr. “Suspicious”:

Q-tip. Swab. Paternity testing clinic. The rest is commentary.

And because I am a gracious and good man of charitable inclination, I also give my tender and supportive counseling to Miss Hax:

“Please, Miss Hax, take a seat on the couch over there. Yes, that’s good. Ok… now… tell me only the bad things that come to mind when you hear the word

C  U  N  T.”

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