OkCupid Corruption & Online Dating Tactic

I’ve always wondered how much database integrity online dating websites maintain. It would be very easy for an insider with a grudge or a boner to do the metaphorical equivalent of downvoting any one particular user’s profile. Now a reader writes to fuel my suspicions:

An ex of mine, who is/was merely an active OkCupid user, once gloated to me that she was given administrator access, ability, and privilege at the site, simply for being a cool femme type. Of course our side doesn’t get gifted with such love.

Her suggestion was that, if I ever got back on after we broke up and started scoring poon again, she could look in on me and invent ways to harass me.

Worthwhile intel for the Chateau. Wonder how pervasive that sort of thing is.

I can believe this. Imagine the hard-up nerdlings that code and administer dating sites. One of their cute babe customers gets in contact with the denizens of the IT deep. Falling over themselves with glee at having secured the (faked) attention of a non-fat whale for once in their lives, and recognizing the awesome power they wield within their manboobed, pinched milieu, they’d probably bend over backwards faster than a prepubescent Chinese gymnast to shower her with Gifts of the Honorary Vagi, which would include supersecret access to all sorts of supposedly well-guarded user data. Never underestimate the rapidity with which an undersexed nerd will give away the farm and betray his principles for a cute girl with a flirty vibe.

So, is it pervasive? Who knows. Is it probable? Yeah.

Online dating is really a shit show for (non-gaming) men. Besides the back room subterfuge and the cosmically awful ratio of men to women, you also have to deal with blowback effects from profiles that stay up after you’ve met and banged a girl. Why would a man feel like putting time and effort into a girl he’s banged when he sees her continuing to log into her profile? Online dating may streamline meeting girls feeding girls attention, but it also undermines investing in them. It’s the perfect vehicle to distribute the products of the 21st century mating market.

While online dating websites are not my go-to sexonomy, there are ways to sufficiently exploit their information asymmetries and competitor contrast opportunities to get laid fairly regularly off of them. Reader “A. Veidt” offers an example:

I’m a skeptic of “online dating” (even the term is a contradiction: dates do not happen outside of tactile range), mostly because I think chicks lie in their close-cropped five-year-old profile pictures. But I also go where the pussy is, and increasingly, it’s possible to find some decent women on free sites like OKCupid. And anyway, sometimes I’m bored at work.

The key to getting a decent return on investment is to invest as little as humanly possible in any one girl until you’ve got a phone number and a firm commitment for a time to meet up (in your neighborhood, somewhere quiet and cheap). Girls on these sites get ridiculous numbers of messages, and I’m convinced that’s why many otherwise sort-of-attractive women (who surely don’t need okcupid to get men) sign up: they love the one-way, no-commitment flow of attention. Log in once a week, read your adoring fanboy mail, and log off without answering any of it. What could be better? It’s like having a Dial-a-Beta.

As a consequence, messaging girls with the standard shit is a waste of time. “Hey, you like Perks of Being a Wallflower? Me too!” Give me a break. They’ve heard it all before: every piece of information in their profile has been used by some sad sack to try and open them. So, instead, I wrote a stock opener that I use on literally everyone. It saves time. Log in for five minutes a day, paste this to five chicks you think are interesting, and move on with your life. Plus, it’s unusual, so it might knock an attention-seeker off her pedestal and get her to (even though she hadn’t planned on it) actually write back. Here it is:

SUBJ: the bet

“so, obviously you’re aesthetically interesting, but a buddy of mine was looking over my shoulder just now and claimed that – without a doubt – your profile was written by a guy; he says any profile with so little information makes him suspicious.  [EDITOR’S NOTE: change the part after the semicolon as needed. it doesn’t matter what it actually says. don’t make it complimentary, and don’t get specific. if it’s a confusing non sequitur, so much the better. run, hamster, run.]

he claimed that there were a million dead giveaways. I came to your defense, of course, but it got a little out of hand and now we’ve got a $20 bet going as to whether or not you’re really a girl. so, just between you and me, am I about to lose $20?”

It seems retarded to me, but it keeps working. I think girls love the unusual nature of the accusation and relish the chance to prove themselves; they like the framing of a guy who’s hanging out with his friends and not sitting around lonely at home; and, of course, it’s a neg. That’s why it’s important not to compliment her except in the most oblique and ambiguous way (“aesthetically interesting”—you may have to tone this down for the stupider chicks. sometimes I use “interesting looking.” don’t say pretty.)

I sent that message verbatim to a girl today and got the following response back within hours:

“Without a doubt, more than anything I know, I am 100% female. My profile was written by me, sincere and honest.

Meaning, if this bet is real, your friend lost $20 and you should take me out for a drink with your winnings.

:)”

I have gotten this response back close to verbatim many times. “I’m a girl! Tee hee! Use your winnings to take me out!” After this, game as normal; get her phone number, meet up within a couple of days, and treat her like any other chick. (Which means, don’t actually start serving up drinks from your fictitious winnings, of course. You would, but you lost that $20 back to your buddy—it’s sort of an interesting story actually . . .)

(Two pics of the girl, who’s 23, are attached; I’d ask that you not use them on the site, but I figured you need some way to judge personally whether this just works on fatties and uglos.) [ed: the chick is a cute, slender blonde.]

Anyway, I don’t want to see the world oversaturated with this opener, but there are so many retards on OKCupid that I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Girls join the site every day and leave just as regularly; there’s always fresh blood. Plus, after biting Style’s material for years, I figure I should give back when I stumble upon something that works.

Any Chateau readers out there have similar low-investment, high-yield material for sorting through the bullshit on online sites?

The floor is open. I believe there are online game techniques in the archives of this blog as well. FYI, I’ve used the “are you really a girl?” line once on a girl I was picking up through a dating website. It wasn’t calculated game so much as a glib throwaway joke at her expense, but she did respond with glitter and confetti popping out of her vagina. Chicks love having to prove themselves to men. When they are in the defensive crouch answering your challenge, your perceived value experiences a passive rise. That’s because girls will appraise men to whom they have qualified themselves as necessarily being worthy of their sycophancy.

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The Curse Of The Player

Beware the blessings of gratification.

The relationship. The long-term relationship. The Holy Grail for some. Purgatory for others. Serene limbo for most.

The relationship — aka marriage, when in its most loathsome permutation — is supposed to be the culmination of romantic transcendence. It moves lovers beyond lust into the realm of silent covalent bond. But this bond, unspoken and understood, can’t form out of any primordial soup; it requires the presence, and the absence, of specific ingredients. The rarity of the founding broth is the reason why poets elevate inviolate love to the sublime. One isn’t liable to effuse about the commonplace or the trite, which can spring like weeds from the craggiest soil.

In every relationship, there is a transition period; that window of time when a man senses he has crossed a boundary from experimental abandon to tribute paid in increments of freedom. A man stands at the Gates of Pudenda and makes his decision for Eros: to step through, committing himself to a revised moral code etched with broad brushstrokes of obligation and the peculiar rewards accrued therein, or to turn back to gallivant another day.

The decision at the moment of transition is not the same for every man. If you haven’t experienced multiple lovers, your transition into an LTR will be easier. You won’t sacrifice much in leaving behind your life of infrequent elation for the rhythmic reassurance of content stability. Players with a lurid, technicolor memory plate filled with many women will find it harder to accede to the straitjacketing of an LTR because of an acute sense of something missing, of what could still be had for the taking, and of withdrawal from the thrill of the hunt. The man who has bedded in his lifetime more than two or three lovers (the average number for the typical beta male) has a feature length film of past and present conquests running in a continuous loop, instantly evoked, as H.H. would say, on the “dark innerside of his eyelids”, in perfect optical replication, to effortlessly remind him of the incomprehensible pleasure of vulvic variety and of all the women waiting in oblivious anticipation for the arrival of his plunderprong.

The memory and the knowledge are the curse of the player. Memory stokes the wanderlust with insistent, torrential recall of scores of curvaceous bodies and rippled vulvae. Though in theory one vagina is no different than the rest, in a man’s mind each furrow is an ecological feature etched into strange planets across the galaxy. Every vagina is a new world to a man, some more exotic than others, and the unbridled enthusiasm he will feel planting his flag on fresh colonizations is no accident of evolution. Contrary to feminized misappraisal, this is not the pretentious joy of shame or escape; it is the sincere joy of pleasure that needs no reason.

The knowledge that the player possesses at his whim the skill to seduce women is the twin sabotage that undermines relationship endurance. A player will see the world of women lit from every angle, exposed to his exploration, if he knows, through experience, through the touch of a thousand fingertips, that he can bed women fairly consistently, and with manageable effort. The psychological emollient of knowing this power is his is enough to burden the heart of a man contemplating even a facsimile of fidelity. Bound to his lover by, in turns, conscience, social opprobrium, and legal sanction, the streams of waiting conquests slipping past like rivulets of glimmering intimacies, taunting his parched loin loosely moored to the ballast of loyalty, is the torture of a lifetime of short-circuited ejaculations.

In contrast, to be the grateful man with no history of sexual plenitude, for whom omnipresent sensual possibilities seem as remote as the twinkling stars in the heavens and thus unlikely to stir his ancient calling, is to be released with the gift of the constrained vision. Where possibility is dead, or unfathomable, so is dangerous yearning. He is now free to step back from the beautiful painting and dryly ponder its geometric contours. When this man falls in love with an accessible work of art, one he can call his own, he has little else to compare its grip on his imagination. He cherishes his chosen muse, blissfully ignorant of the carelessness and glibness with which he would succumb to, and love, the millions of competing muses were they to be more tangible to him than airbrushed magazine cover placeholders.

The curse of the player, then, is ultimately illumination, tactile and cerebral. His own success in love betrays his quest for the ultimate love. He has seen vistas he cannot unsee.

He is not a disbeliever in everlasting monogamous love, quite the contrary; but his eternal search for it has corrupted the destination. Each step of his journey lands like the heavy stamp of slash and burn machinery, decloaking the mystery of the source at the mouth of the tributary. He is as certain to destroy underfoot the elixir of redemption as he is to finally catch it, leached of its nutrients.

Ironically, the man (or woman) best situated to find divine love is the one whose efforts aren’t excessively profitable.

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How Much Do Your Smarts Matter To Women?

This question comes up regularly at Le Chateau. You’ve got two schools of thought. The first insists that smarts, like any other positive attribute, can only raise a man’s dating market value because women are hypergamous and appreciate a smarter man than themselves. The other school says that women are put off by men who are too much smarter than themselves, and that experience shows women fall for lunkhead jerks all the time, perhaps because these types of men are less introspective and more unthinkingly assertive about hitting on women.

The science I’ve read on this subject has been all over the place, but the consensus seems to be that having some smarts is a net plus to a man’s desirability.

Where do I come down on this perennial issue? I stick by the Dating Market Value Test for Men at the top of this blog. A better-than-average IQ is beneficial, but the benefits to picking up women begin to dissipate past a certain degree of brainpower, because very high IQ seems to be associated with a lack of social savviness and other off-putting personality quirks. If you know a lot of Ivy grads in the sciences and maths (a group of smarties if there ever were) then you can’t help but notice how awkward they can be in social settings with women who are more likely to represent the meaty part of the IQ bell curve.

Anyhow, both schools of thought have a point. Chicks are more viscerally turned on by raw male power and alpha attitude than they are by male smarts, but because chicks are wired to seek men who are higher status than themselves on as many metrics as possible (except looks; no pretty girl likes to be upstaged by her man in the looks department) they will generally be turned off by men who are dumber than they are.

This isn’t just theoretical musing. I say this from a position of real world observation. I’ll use a short anecdote as example: I was once hanging out with some girls in my group of friends when one of them got hit on by a very good-looking guy. She had previously noticed him and was tittering about him with her girlfriends when he approached, so she was already emotionally lubed to accept his entreaty.

Having a ringside seat to this blossoming courtship, I happily eavesdropped on the proceedings from a half-concealed vantage among the crowd. It didn’t take long for the whole thing to implode in entertaining failure. The flash point was when she used a two-dollar word and he replied in a way that proved he didn’t know what the word meant. Lemme tell ya, you never saw a woman’s flirty face turn sour so fast.

Afterwards, she confided that his apparent dumbness made him seem so much less good-looking to her.

So maybe this is the best way to view male smarts from the perspective of pickup success: all else equal, it’s better to be smarter than the girl you are hitting on than dumber than her. Sounds obvious, but I think this simple point gets missed. Girls may not be immediately turned on by men who are smarter than them, but you can bet girls are immediately turned off by men who prove themselves dumber than them. Men’s smarts then, act as a threshold test of fuckability for girls; too much won’t necessarily help or hurt you, but too little (relative to the girl) will definitely hurt.

The above is not a maxim, because I find that it applies primarily to overeducated girls in the cities. Less educated and less intelligent girls, who, it should be reminded, occupy the bulk of womanhood, are neither as impressed by male smarts nor as turned off by male stupidity as are their smarter sisters. Mostly this is because the mediocre mamacitas are not going to be throwing around two-dollar words that test the verbal acumen of the men they meet. Secondarily, dumber girls don’t have the cortical horsepower to quickly ascertain male dumbness the way smarter girls do; therefore, other sexy male traits, like dominance, loom larger in the dumb girl’s head.

But no matter how smart you are, if you aren’t using your smarts to light up a woman’s limbic lust center, you may as well drop your pretense to genius and try to speak to her on her level; no man ever incited tingles in a girl by solving quadratic equations or philosophizing deeply about deep stuff. After all, the reason women are drawn to male smarts is not smarts per se, but the promise of resources and power that typically accrue to the smart man. It’s proxies all the way down.

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Why Are Feminists Against The Male Pill?

How often have you heard feminists bitch and moan about the responsibility that women must bear for using birth control? You’d think the womb whiners would be happy that a male Pill was tested and found effective, ready to market. But, no. That would be thinking rationally, and feminists are allergic to reason and logic. Here’s a video of a Brazilian endocrinologist who recalls the time he was at a conference discussing the male Pill when a gaggle of feminists led by the ugly Betty Friedan (his words, accurate nevertheless) shouted him down with chants of “No male pill!”.

So why would feminists be against a male Pill? According to the doc, their answer is that they don’t want the decision to have a child or not taken away from women. In other words, they believe that men having decision-making power over their own reproduction is tantamount to taking that reproductive power away from women. The male Pill, in a twisted feminist’s mind, is akin to outlawing abortion or the female Pill.

I’ve said it before, but it always bears repeating because the message isn’t getting out fast and far enough: feminists don’t give a rat’s ass about “equality” or phantoms of inequality; all they care about is power. Feminism is a power grab, plain and simple. It is war by politics, its artillery ideological zeal and the veneer of intellectual sophistry. Feminists want the ability and unanswerable freedom to have a kid or not have a kid completely at their own whim, regardless of the man’s feelings on the matter and with no concern for his opinion or his presupposed legal rights. A male Pill robs women of the option to ensnare men in gotcha pregnancies, and that is a dilution of female power that feminists just won’t tolerate.

The motivating impulse of feminists, besides the ugliness of its fiercest advocates, is hatred for male sexuality. Feminists loathe male desire. Their envy of men’s relative sexual freedom, men’s libidinous vitality, and men’s broader psychological landscape manifests as an abhorrence of the peculiar characteristics that distinguish the male sex, in drive and personality, from the female sex. Feminists routinely lie in service to their hatred, a hatred which is unquenchable.

Feminine women are not like this. Feminine women love men for who they are, love to bathe in the energy of male sexuality, and love the innate advantages that men bring to the division of love and labor between the sexes. Feminine women are not feminist women. It’s good to remind the good women of that truth, and to beat the soulless ugly machine feminists, male feminists included, over the head with that same truth.

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Proof That Power Corrupts Absolutely

Power has an effect on the brain almost identical to cocaine.

More than a hundred years after noted historian Baron John Acton coined the phrase ‘power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely’ scientists claim the saying is biologically true.

The feeling of power has been found to have a similar effect on the brain to cocaine by increasing the levels of testosterone and its by-product 3-androstanediol in both men and women.

This in turn leads to raised levels of dopamine, the brain’s reward system called the nucleus accumbens, which can be very addictive.

We all know women are unable to control their primal attraction for powerful men. A cursory examination of the world around you will aptly demonstrate. It makes sense, if you are a man who loves the company of women, to work to become powerful OR to adopt the mannerisms of the powerful, which can have the same influence on dopamine release as possessing objectively measurable power. The behavior of powerful alpha male baboons has some game lessons for humans.

Power has almost identical effects to cocaine and too much of it can produce too much dopamine leading to more negative effects such as arrogance and impatience.

The claims by Dr Ian Robertson may go some way to explain the outlandish and impulsive behaviour of city fatcats, tycoons and celebrities.

Writing in the Daily Telegraph today, he said: ‘Baboons low down in the dominance hierarchy have lower levels of dopamine in key brain areas, but if they get ‘promoted’ to a higher position, then dopamine rises accordingly.

‘This makes them more aggressive and sexually active, and in humans similar changes happen when people are given power.

Women don’t love *power* per se. What they feel instead is a visceral attraction for the ATTITUDE that powerful men exhibit. Attitude and personality are more important to a man’s success with women than his looks, bankroll or material possessions. You can have the latter but still fail with women if you act like a self-doubting beta. But if you have the former you can succeed with women without having the latter. Of course, having all of it is better than having either, but if you had to choose, choose jerkitude.

Arrogance, impatience, outlandishness, entitlement, aggression, sexual voracity and overconfidence — these are the male personality traits that win women over. If you don’t want to toil for 30 years to gain the social or economic power that will imbue you with these sexy characteristics, you can take a short cut and plug into the god machine directly by altering your personality to one that is sexier to women.

“Just be yourself!” is really girl code for “Just be your beta self so I can quickly screen you out!”

Fuck that. Just be your better self. Then sit back and enjoy the exquisite pleasure of screening girls in and out of your rotation.

A reader writes:

How does the elite justify its consistent fucking over of the beta males today?

Glib answer: Because they can.

Glib Lite answer: They’re power tripping.

Have you ever tried to bring a coke fiend down from his exhilarating high? It’s impossible. Nothing will bring those fuckers down until the drug wears off. And coke is so addictive that you are searching for the next bump within seconds after the first one has stopped working. Same with the elite. Their dopamine rush is going full blast. They’ve been snorting lines off whores’ asses since 1965. Best we can hope for now is that they OD and their hearts just give out.

Game is like the cocaine version of power. Same feelings, quicker rush, less work. I know guys who run their best game while doing coke. Cocaine Game. Combine any two of the three and you are unstoppable. Game + societally high status = ladykiller. Game + cocaine = ladyslayer. Societally high status + cocaine = golddigger glue. Game + societally high status + cocaine = Plunderer of Vaginas.

This is all in the Bible somewhere, isn’t it?

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Framing Flirting

Overcoming Bias has a post up about hypocritical flattery. RH might feel a little embarrassed getting a link from this universally beloved and highly influential blog, but his post is very interesting for what it implies about successful methods of flirting that men can use to pick up women. (See what I did there?)

Humans usually have a social norm against flattery. Yes we flatter each other, and often, but we usually flatter indirectly. So just how big of a fig leaf does it take to hide flattery? Consider item #1 from a post on “the seven techniques for ingratiation and influence that are most effective in moving up the corporate ladder without looking like a kiss-ass”:

Frame flattery as likely to make the boss uncomfortable. …one manager whom we interviewed noted that he commonly prefaces flattering remarks with such phrases as “I don’t want to embarrass you but. . . ,” or “I know you won’t want me to say this but. . . ,” or “You’re going to hate me for saying this but.” (more)

Note that this approach makes the praise seem no less glowing, and it offers little reason for observers to less suspect the praise was designed to gain favor. So how could flattery without this addition be unacceptable, yet flattery without this addition be acceptable?

This example suggests that the key social norm is that you should not encourage others to flatter you. While there is a weak norm against praising others to gain their favor, the stronger norm is against your explicitly rewarding others for praising you. So by directly claiming that someone is not encouraging you to praise them, you declare them innocent of violating the key social norm against encouraging flattery from others.

The key to effectively flattering your boss (or any higher status person who could be useful to you) is to clear him of suspicions that he may be encouraging the flattery. Similarly, the key to effectively flirting with a girl is to clear her of suspicions that she may be encouraging your come-on.

Girls know better, of course, that when they pretty up their faces and flaunt their bodies they are encouraging come-ons from men, and hopefully the right kinds of men. But that doesn’t mean they want to be reminded of that grimy little fact about their natures.

Girls are very sensitive to being thought easy or slutty (and with good psychosexual reason). Cloying flirtations that are tacitly sexual run the risk of triggering a girl’s anti-slut defense. There is also the quirk of the female hindbrain that she values, admires and, yes, feels more physical attraction for the man who does not make himself too readily available. Chicks dig chasing aloof alphas. A man’s conspicuously flirtatious proposition is more likely to lower his value than raise it.

Thus, the best flirting is a type of anti-flirting; flirting without directly signaling that you are flirting. Or without signaling that sex is on your mind.

A few examples:

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but you look like someone who’d be cool to talk to.”

“I don’t consider myself in the market, but if I was, I’d say you’re kind of cute.”

“Why is it every time I just want to say something nice to a girl, like that your eyes are… unique, she thinks I want to have sex with her?”

“I hope you don’t think this is a come-on, but you have a certain grace about you.”

“Don’t be too embarrassed that I’m flirting with you right now. They’re just words.”

The idea behind these examples is that you disarm a woman’s inclination to pigeonhole you as a man angling for her sex. Once the outer labia force field is disarmed, a woman’s inner labia defenses are easily pried, and it’s a small matter to later “change your mind” about her.

Personally, I’m not a big fan of flattery flirting. There are better ways to flirt that don’t require the egregious use of compliments or greasy innuendo. But if you do like to go direct with your flirting, then framing your flattery like the examples above will improve the reactions you get from women. Especially very beautiful women who are used to “suffering” direct and insinuated solicitations from men.

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The Reality Of Male Choice

Satoshi Kanazawa, a popularizer of evolutionary psychology before Psychology Today canned him for insufficiently footnoted and massaged crimethink, has frequently been fond of asserting that women exercise ALL the choice in the mating market. Men are just along for the ride, hoping to be one of the chosen. (Kanazawa’s absolutism on this matter is particularly galling, since he should know better. His claim is easily refuted. For example, I’ve had chubby chicks come onto me, and I’ve turned them down. Direct, stone cold rejection must feel a hundred times worse for women than it does for men.)

A certain breed of slutty tankgrrl feminist likes to claim the same thing; that women can have all the sex they want, whenever they want, and with whomever they want, and men have no say in the matter. A willful ignorance — or, more accurately, a clinical self-delusion — about the wall and men’s attractiveness standards is required to hold this position.

Then there are the beta and omega male trolls, a truly abhorrent species who occasionally squirt their tepid loserjizz in the comments of this blog when they announce — almost gleefully — that women rule, and men are hopeless horndogs who happily fuck fat and ugly chicks, making life difficult for the betas who have to deal with ego-pumped fatties.

They’re all wrong. Men do exercise choice in the dating market, and men with options — the men most desired by women — exercise the most choice of all, usually with extreme prejudice.

A simple program of getting out of the house and mingling in a social context should suffice as all the proof of male choice that you’ll need, but since a significant percentage of internet theorizers appear to be shut-ins or trollish cranks, it sometimes helps these wayward souls if a scientific study or two is posted to clear their muddled musings. In this study, evidence is given that men with more resources raise their mating standards.

Resources are a cardinal component of male mate value in the sexual exchange between men and women. Inspired by theories and research suggesting a link between mating and resource constructs as well as studies linking money and valuations of others, the current study tests the hypothesis that cues to resource availability may lead to higher mating standards for men, but not women. Participants were exposed to either stacks of paper, a small sum of money (104 Singapore dollars ∼USD$84), or a large sum of money (2600 Singapore dollars ∼USD$2100). Consistent with the hypothesis, after male – but not female – participants handled a large sum of money, they raised their minimum requirements for a date. [Physical attractiveness requirements drove this effect most significantly.] We discuss how the results are consistent with an evolutionary perspective on mating and how future research can further investigate environmentally contingent self-assessments and strategies.

The short and sweet of it: when men get more money, they start to screen for hotter chicks. That is, men with cash CHOOSE better looking girls.

I’ve no doubt similar studies that examined the relationship between social status, fame and game would find that men who acquired more of these positive traits would also begin raising their standards in what they will tolerate in a sex and love (but I repeat myself) partner.

It should be noted that studies like this demonstrating the reality of male mate choice do not imply that men exercise as much choice as women. That is false. Women are, by virtue of their more expensive and scarce reproductive life source, the more discriminating sex. It is absolutely true that a lot more men are willing to dump a lazy fuck in a fat chick than there are women willing to spread for a degenerate omega male.

But it’s simply a mistake to then extrapolate this relative leniency of male standards into evidence for a total lack of any male mating standards. Girls do experience rejection by men. The rejection may be more often indirect than direct (i.e. girls rarely approach, so when you don’t return their eye-play, or when you ignore their flirting, it subconsciously registers as the equivalent of a direct rejection to them), but it’s rejection nonetheless. Men with a thing or two going on will reject plenty of less attractive, older, sluttier and fatter women in their lifetimes.

The men having sex with all those fatties, fugs, sluts, single moms and cougars are not the high value, in-demand alphas that whiny beta trolls like to claim they are. It’s the loser males and the expedience cads — the men either most desperate for sexual intimacy or most uninterested in long-term commitment and a woman’s “special qualities” — who drop their standards to roll with a hippo for a night.

So the common trope that fat chicks are getting laid with no trouble is misleading; they’re getting laid, but it’s not with quality. And for women, quality is job one. Few women except the most deluded freaks feel good about themselves or confident in their sexual market value after enduring years of excessively short-term hookups with losers, or repeatedly failing to extract long-term commitment from the occasional dumpster diving winner. This is why it’s more common for ugly women to go years without sex; women, far more than men, prefer the life of celibacy to the life of being reminded of their low value by loser lovers.

For men, standards rise and fall with one’s relative status, social savvy, charisma, looks and resources. When any or all go up (looks being somewhat age-dependent), men tend to filter out less attractive women more aggressively, and pursue hotter chicks. When any or all go down, the opposite happens. A man’s options will dictate how ruthlessly he weeds out unacceptable women.

For women, standards are mostly set by conception, and cemented by birth after the hormonal chaos in the womb has been integrated. The looks a woman is born with will, with minor exceptions (for instance, sex ratios), determine her mating standards later in life, up until the age when her appearance begins to abandon her.

This is the one, intrinsic advantage that men have over women in the eternal and escalating reproductive arms race: a man has the opportunity to improve his lot in life, or improve his attributes, and mate up the attractiveness ladder. With this opportunity comes risk; a man can also find himself mating down the ladder. Women, by contrast, have no such opportunity. They are issued a short list of achievable standards at birth, and this list cannot be altered; it is only revoked at such time that she has exhausted the mate capital she was bequeathed before she even gained consciousness.

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