The Masculinization Of The Western White Female

Which of these two women is more attractive?

Commenter Ben left a link in the comments from this post to an anthropology blog written by a guy named Dienekes, who posed the above question in a post comparing the beauty of top models and actresses in 2008 to leading actresses from the 1940s.

The pictures above are computer generated composites of, on the left, eight hot babes from Askmen.com’s Top 99 Women of 2008, and on the right, seven Best Actress Oscar winners from the 1940s. If you go to the Dienekes link, you’ll see photos of the individual women used to make the composites.

A couple thoughts…

Both women are attractive. This isn’t a comparison between beautiful and not beautiful; it’s a comparison between two beauties of nuanced facial differences. My jizzbombs would travel impressive distances with either woman in my bed of sin, though I’d feel more emotional satisfaction — more OWNAGE — spackling the woman on the right because she has the look of Bambi-fied innocence. The woman on the left is only superficially penetrable.

The 2008 composite hot babe is more masculine than the 1940s composite hottie. 2008 woman has smaller eyes, slightly thinner lips, more angular jawline, and a heavier brow ridge overhang — all indicators of masculinization. She has a smaller nose, which is more feminine, but with nose jobs being standard operating procedure for modern women in the looks-based industries (actresses included) it’s not revealing to compare the natural noses of past beauties with the manufactured noses of present beauties.

I bet if I could feel the cheeks of each woman the cheek of the 2008 composite would have a soft layer of vellous peach fuzz, while the cheek of the 1940s composite would be nearly free of vestigial ape fur. I’d also bet that the 2008 composite is sluttier than the 1940s composite, and more likely to make you eat a dick sandwich.

I found these composites fascinating for what it potentially reveals about American mating preferences of the last 60 years. Is it simply an example of marketers, agents, and producers in 2008 choosing women who look masculinized based on the whims of personal (read: gay) preference? Or is the genetic pool of beauties becoming more masculinized such that there aren’t many ultrafeminine women available to rise up the ranks of the looks-based industries? If the latter, is it possible for the genetic substrate of OBJECTIVELY DEFINABLE beauty to change so rapidly? Within a few generations? My belief is that it is equally likely that genetic change drives cultural change as the other way around, and this includes the average change in women’s facial bone morphology.

Stepping back to look at the big picture, it would make sense in a world of Western decline where white men are becoming feminized that white women should become masculinized. But why are women getting a harder, badass Lara Croftian look? I submit there are three primary reasons for the change:

1. Naturally sluttier women are enjoying greater rewards than long term commitment-oriented women as the sexual market since the 1950s has evolved toward advantaging short term hookups and disincentivizing settling down:

Avery Leake, 25, knows what this is like from the other side. He’s in a relationship now, but he says that, in general, most of the young women he used to meet “just wanted sex. They’re independent.” Being in a relationship was not important to them, especially if it interfered with their careers or their pursuit of advanced degrees, he says.

Leake found that he was also up against women who had as much money as he had, if not more, and he says dating had just become too expensive. “You used to be able to get away with paying $30 for a dinner and a movie,” Leake says. “Not anymore.”

As masculinization plays a major role in determining how eager a woman will be to ride the cock carousel, the single mother slut wave of post-nuclear family America has evolved a generally manlier disposition in both appearance and attitude.

2. Women living under the new rules of the polygyny-favoring modern sexual market are choosing alpha males at greater rates than women under the older, monogamy-favoring system. And naturally, the alpha males these women choose are more masculine than the betas they are no longer keen on settling down with. When they have kids with these alpha skittles men — and it’s the low class Idiocratic brood sows who are having more kids than the play-by-the-rules plush beta herbs — the thug genes are passed on and their sons are born with their fists already swinging or holding a beer and their daughters are born with lantern jaws and a propensity to fuck with piston-like efficiency.

Behold the future that single moms with a vaginal itch for tattoos, bikers, and pimpslap game bequeath us with their vile spawn:

Boys who carry a particular variation of the gene Monoamine oxidase A (MAOA), sometimes called the “warrior gene,” are more likely not only to join gangs but also to be among the most violent members and to use weapons, according to a new study from The Florida State University that is the first to confirm an MAOA link specifically to gangs and guns.

3. Gender bending chemical sabotage is altering the sexual landscape. High carb, low fat diets are making women more masculine and the Pill is fucking with women’s mate selection filters. Estrogenic compounds in the water supply from urine secreted by women on the Pill may also be messing around with male hormonal profiles, contributing to the recent shift to dandyism.

Interestingly, the case can be made that it’s no accident the rise of the subculture of seduction science and its PUA practitioners follows closely the rise of the masculinized Western white woman. Ultimately, for a guy who has game, a sexual market filled with slutty, aggressive women is a pussy boon. But for the hapless beta male offering his thin gruel of a steady corporate income and clockwork dependability, the rise of the Terminatrix has been a dispiriting bust.

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Girls Who Insisted I Use A Condom

It’s interesting to recall who among the women blessed to have crossed lifepaths with the masculine juggernaut that is moi insisted I use a condom on the first night together. (Note: This is a separate issue from whether I decided to use a condom myself.)

A partial selection (because who can remember every girl they’ve slept with?):

Update: I completely forgot the DC lawyer chicks ———– NO CONDOM.

First love — Insisted on condom.
French au pair — Insisted on condom. Rolled it on with her mouth.
Bikini girl — No condom.
Riotgrrl DJ — Insisted on condom.
Library pickup — No condom.
Chinese girl — Insisted on condom.
Asian girl of indeterminate origin — No condom.
Asian girl of painfully tight hole — Insisted on condom.
Amelie lookalike — Insisted on condom.
Indian girl — Insisted on condom for blowjob (!) but not for sex (!!).
Artsy chick (#17 in a series) — Insisted on condom.
Cokehead — Insisted on condom.
Girl who was beaten by stepdad — Insisted on condom.
Ugliest girl I have ever banged — No condom.
Hard-charging MBA student — No condom.
Best friend of hard-charging MBA student — Insisted on condom.
Married Russian chick — No condom.
Russian au pair — Insisted on condom.
Married Polish chick — No condom.
Blonde with boyfriend — No condom.
Short brunette with boyfriend — No condom.
Bartender 1 — No condom.
Bartender 2 — No condom.
Bartender 3 — No condom.
Stripper — Insisted on condom.
Croatian chick — Insisted on condom.
Girl with smelly pussy — No condom.
Girl with five mangy hamsters for pets — Insisted on condom.
Black girl — No condom.
NIH nurse — Insisted on condom for round one but dropped insistence for round two.
Tomboy — Insisted on condom.
Romanian chick — No condom.
Preacher’s daughter (for real) — Insisted on condom.
Niece of semi-famous politico — Insisted on condom.
Blog groupies (6 of 13) — No condom.
Girl with furry ass — Insisted on condom.
Army girl with smelly ass — No condom.
Bulgarian girl — Insisted on condom.
Finnish girl — No condom.
Turkish girl — No condom.
Argentinian girl — Insisted on condom.
French girl with the most beautiful name in the world — No condom.
Girl who mentioned she was a Mensa member — No condom.
Chic Noir — No condom.

Rubbing my chin in deep pontification, savoring every delicious sexual memory, I detect a correlation between how long I dated a girl and whether she insisted I use a condom on the first night together. Here is a graphical representation:

The time I spent with the girl is the vertical axis. The number of times she insisted I use a condom is the horizontal axis. (Condom insistence was usually frontloaded in the dating cycle.) As we can see, the girls who insisted I use a condom on the first night were more likely to be granted the privilege of being my girlfriend. Dirty little sluts who flung themselves at my unsheathed cock had a higher chance of being a pump and dump or short term fling.

The longer a girl insisted on condom usage, the likelier I would treat her like a precious gemstone. But there are diminishing returns to this general rule. If a girl refused to start taking the pill and made me wear a condom well past the four week mark, I cut her loose. This was probably a wise decision by me. One, condoms suck. Two, she thinks I’m sleeping around on her but doesn’t care (this is a bad foundation for a fledgling relationship, even if true). Three, I wonder who else is she fucking?

For solid girlfriend material, you’ll want to aim for a condom usage insistence number of three sexual encounters. This allows her to maintain the fiction that she isn’t a slut, while not pushing you past the point of grudging acceptance into resentment at having your pleasure circumscribed by some smelly latex.

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Slut Strikes Back

Occasionally I get linked by the kind of blog which makes my heart swell with pride. This happened recently when the self-professed polyamorous slut over at The Errant Wife linked to my post about identifying sluts and set a new land speed record for projectile menstruating an uncontrollable tizzy. Let’s see what she really thinks of yer ‘umble paladin of slutty truths:

How to tell if you are a premature ejaculating, insecure, mother-fucking cock/asshat/wannabe/loser:

1. You criticize a woman who “talks about sex first” or “ask for kinky stuff.”
What, your “masculinity” can’t handle being asked for something she likes? You don’t like a woman to be interested in sex? This seems odd, given that you like to ‘tap ass’ as you so eloquently put it. Hmmm, maybe you don’t like to be asked ’cause you don’t know how to give it to me? Just putting it out there.

[…]

5. You have a small cock.
Hate to break it to you, darling, but all that ‘cavernous cunt’ stuff you are spouting – not so much a problem with the ladies…

[…]

6. You talk about all the ass you tap, but want wife/mother material with under 3 partners.
You know, I can’t stand a man who can’t handle a girl who knows what she wants. Not to put to fine a point on it – put if you have been with THAT many women to be able to identify THAT many different kind of sluts then we have a bit of a pot/kettle situation here, motherfuckers. And really, I am going to limit myself to three or under sexual partners so I can wear your cheap ring and bear your shallow end of the gene pool dim children? Yeah, I think I’ll pass.

[…]

Let me tell you something: real women, interesting women, women with brains and women that are going places – even if these women have had the three or less sexual partners you require – they are not going to be interested in the likes of you. They want a man who sees them, who appreciates life and people and who is looking for a person and a relationship that is fulfilling for both parties, not someone who is in the market for a misogynist idea and the pretty girl that matches it.

For the record, I a woman of mind and beauty and body, a woman of education and spirit and soul – a woman who has had more than three sexual partners and has enjoyed and adored every one of them – and you are completely unworthy of a woman of my calibre.

I am utterly out of your league.

I admire her spunk (note: not a barely concealed reference to any vaginal toxic sludge). What she lacks in original thinking she makes up for with energetic verve. I bet she piston-fucks like a man.

How much do you want to bet that the guy who wrote the article would respond to that last statement with: whatever, I am sooo not interested? Like that would be an insult.

Although Miss Proudly Polyamorous Cumfunneler wisely blocked out her face, judging by the half-naked pics of herself on her blog, she looks potentially attractive. Late 30s? Body is decent. Given the evidence at hand, I’d respond: “I’d keep the conversation to a sanity-preserving minimum and fuck you all night long into the morning, then eat your leftover chinese food and leave.”

The commenters were unanimous in their love:

Some time ago I wrote something in our blog about what I called the “whiny male bitchassness” women have to put up with when they aspire to and own their sluthood, and that fucktard who wrote the post you responded to is a good example of what I was talking about.

A woman aspiring to sluthood is like a nerd aspiring to social ineptitude. Frame that accomplishment and hang it on the wall, grrl! And what does “own your sluthood” mean? Is it anything like “own your facial”? Femspeak: War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Sluttiness is courage.

On behalf of the majority of men out there I apologize for this scumbag’s post. We all do not think this way and it really does point out his insecurities.

Beta.

i guess this is probably a bad time to tell you that i’ve never wanted you more than i do right now, eh?

Supremo beta.

I read his blog for awhile and while he definitely is prone to humor and satire, actually some pretty good stuff too, the blogger in question does have an overall theme of thinking a good woman is the traditional woman myth. That their man should be their center of their universe and gives them purpose and all other good things. He suffers from a lot of ignorance.

Overall my impression was a talented writer who was a total narcissist who truly does think he knows everything from quick observations into his life where his thoughts of himself and beliefs seem to always magically get validated.

This was from a commenter named Crystal, a woman who is drawn, despite her better judgment, to my awesome vortex of masculine power and devilish charm. Crystal, did you know that narcissism is one of the “dark triad” male traits which compels women to shimmy out of their panties? You do now, sexxxysuga.

OMG I love your rant, so incredibly well said. The guy is a complete ‘fucktard’ & is obviously as intimidated as hell by women who are sexually confident and secure.

Ego-bruised female armchair psychological diagnosis #349 in a series.

I’m not sure what makes my head spin more, this fucktard or all of the comments who appear to agree with him.

Please believe me, all men are NOT like that guy!

Do betas get laid with this lame white knighting suckassery or do they get a platonic hug buddy and blue balls? Rhetorical.

And my favorite comment of all (from a man, no less):

words can’t even express how well — how perfectly — this diatribe responds to the caliber of idiot that is me. “the 16 commandments of poon” — really? “the dating market value test,” segregated arbitrarily into two versions for the two genders society perceives.

i’ve met a lot of amazing womyn in my four years of college but it’s so rare to find a powerful gem like you so far from a place like a university or community center. i could hug you!

“… the two genders society perceives.”

😆

What do you say about a man who seriously uses the word “womyn”? David Alexander’s non-date girlfriend laughs at you. “… it’s so rare to find a powerful gem like you so far from a place like a university”. Oh, my sides! The rot in academia has reached the core. Nuke the cult from orbit and start over.

A lot of the commenters shared the peculiar habit of thanking the host “for the rant”. This is something I’ve noticed is very common on femtard blogs — a shrieking chorus of yes-women and raisin-sacked beta suckups exhaling loudly with deep guttural gratitude for the host’s reaffirmation of their dearly guarded prejudices and prerogatives. It’s as if without the nourishment of a constant cliched drumbeat of “you go girl” in-group agitprop their fragile egos would pack up and leave them a shuddering mess of self-doubt and suicidal tendencies.

I was curious about the Errant Slut, so I read a few of her archived posts.

I am not sure how I am going to blatantly proposition hot class guy if he never comes to class. Seriously, I know the year is almost over – but get your butt in the chair, dude, so I can tell you to put that butt in my bed.

I actually wore mascara today in an effort to better bat my eyelashes alluringly. Pearl earrings to encourage him to give me a pearl necklace. My lucky high boots that say I will fuck you hard, bitch. This is my top game people and no one was there to appreciate it!

Motherfucker. Well, at least I hope he is…

Cross your fingers, won’t you, that I will be able to open my legs.

Slut pride is often a +5 Mask of Empowerment for the insecurities that spring from fear of aging and becoming invisible to men. Many of these sluts are true to their word and sleep around in vain hope of silencing the dread knock at the door by Father Time, but then there are those sluts whose stories are more bragaddocio than truth in advertising. If you’re looking for a no muss no fuss no wedding ring quickie, you’ll want to steer clear of the braggart sluts. By their brazen lewdness you shall know them as cockteases.

Oh sweet baby slut, I found some posts about her husband. Surprise, surprise, the whore cheats on him and gleefully recounts her sexploits in public for guys like me to wield as instruments of psychological torture.

So, where to begin? The background, as is always the case, is huge and undramatic.
Normal and profoundly unsatisfying life. Three beautiful children and a husband who pays the bills and ignores everything and anything I say to him. 10 years of marriage during which I guarantee my opinion has never mattered – I try and try to tell him what I need from the relationship, he agrees and sees my side of EVERYTHING, and yet, there are no changes.
I am talking to the wall.

Rude translation: My attraction for my sexless beta husband is gone. He never challenges me. I now have all the reason I need to rationalize sitting on a carousel of random cock.

I did not go home with him that night but instead commenced a IMing relationship with him. Dirty talk. Friendly talk. Utter Escapism. And then we met. In his apartment.
For an evening of the kind of sex that you remember. The kind of sex where you each have a sheen of sweat. Fantastic. (Fucktastic?) He tastes good. He is good in bed. AND I have no guilt. None. I have realized that I have the one life and I refuse to limit it within other people’s moral structures and I refuse also to be unhappy anymore. If my life as it stands does not make me happy then I will do what it takes to create happiness for myself.

“Not my fault. You didn’t give me what I want.” What we learn:

Women are amoral and will act according to the ethereal justification of their emotions. If she’s unhappy, it matters not how virtuous, devoted, dependable and loving the husband is to her.
All women are cheap whores by nature.
Children will not alter her calculation.
In a woman’s eyes, to be a beta male is worse than anything else. Even serial killer.
Sluts are more likely to cheat. Monogamously inclined men should beware. Players should delight.
Don’t get married!

More from the pit of woman’s soul:

Friends always says “oh, your husband is so nice” – but the reality is that nice will only take you so far.

Niceguys finish cuckolded.

I spent a lot of time in high school having sex I did not really want to have.

I had sex to create something – a feeling, a relationship, an image of myself, an attitude, a perception, an emotional space. Now when my husband wants to have sex with me – and he constantly badgers me – I feel liberated to say no. Liberated to say no in a way that I did not when I was younger.

I would get into situations where I felt bad saying no, where it was easier to say yes, where it would just seem like I might as well. But now I don’t want to have sex that I don’t want to have – and I am sorry if my husband is not happy with that – truly I am – but I am not going to force myself. Forcing myself: closing my eyes and thinking of England, spreading to keep him happy, makes me feel like a prostitute. It makes me feel dirty. Fucking my adorable younger boyfriend does not make me feel guilty, or dirty or anything other than free.

[…]

In an unsettling turn of events, I think the husband may be on to me. Mr Ashley Madison # 3 is sending me emails that are eerily familiar. It is cheesy like the husband, it has appalling spelling like the husband, and there is just something there. When I read them and the things he is saying and the questions he is asking – it is exactly what the husband would say to draw me out. I checked the profile and he also identifies as the same height and weight – although the age is different. I wonder if I am being snaked?

Stare into the abyss and breathe deeply the dank stench emanating from its womb.

The Revolution is beginning to spread to the most blighted corners of humanity, but some are incapable of salvation. They are not to be reasoned with. They are not to be cajoled. They are to be steamrolled with extreme prejudice and sadistic humor. And unlubed anal sex.

And so it begins…

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Predator Sluts

Welcome to the New Whore Order.

The author of a controversial new book says she was so desperate for a baby she got pregnant ‘accidentally on purpose’ in a one-night stand. KATE SPICER admits that – like many women  – she’s played the same dangerous game…

Three weeks ago, I bought a pregnancy test. As a single, childless woman in my late 30s, my exact thoughts while I was waiting for the result were as follows: ‘If I am not pregnant, then good. I’m happy.

Life continues as before. Panic over. If I am pregnant, then that’s terrifying. But thrilling, too. A happy accident that was meant to happen, whether I stay with the father or not.’

If you’ve been a regular reader here, you could see this coming a mile away. Aging careerist shrikes on the cusp of sexual invisibility, like spent fuel rods from years of putting out for pump and dump alphas who wisely chose not to marry these damaged goods, are feeling the pangs of childlessness. Awash in discretionary income and free of the constraints of social shaming, they could afford to avoid dating the provider betas in favor of slutting it up with the same rotation of cads their girlfriends are banging. Oh, the drama was so enticing!

Then she woke up one morning, pressed a hand against her vacant, nearly barren womb, and shuddered in silence as the icy finger of irrelevant spinsterhood sent a shiver down her spine. She had made a mistake.

So what does she do now?

Why, she tries to rope utterly self-interested guys like yours truly into fun-killing fatherhood!

Some of these women approach the task in a far more ruthless manner than Mary Pols did, purposefully going out and sleeping with men when they know they are at their most fertile.

In America, they even have a name for this – they call them ‘gotcha’ pregnancies. Many of the women involved deliberately avoid birth control and have no intention of letting their unwitting bedfellow know this.

Never mind that these succubi claim to have no intention of hitting the guy up for child support. Women, bless their amoral hearts, are known to change their minds on a whim when it suits them. A woman’s slapdash principles and the vast anti-male legal industrial complex are cold comfort for the modern playboy. You must look out for yourself.

How to spot a potential predator slut with designs on the babymaking power of your ball juice?

There ya go. Just look for the crows’ feet, saggy tits, and chest age spots.

The most dangerous woman in the world to sleep with is the childless, unmarried cougar. Their clock is rapidly winding down, their dying eggs are sending out distress signals, and they have no cuckold beta husband upon which to foist a bastard child. Either avoid them like the plague or double up on industrial strength condoms.

Here’s a handy reference guide for precautionary measures to take when banging the childless woman.

• If she’s under 25, college educated, lives in the city, has had an abortion, spends more than 40% of her take home pay on drinks and clothes, concurrently dates, has slutty girlfriends, and talks about spending a couple years to travel the world:  Skip the condom and enjoy some skin on skin action. Blast inside her, you renegade! Odds are she’s on the pill, and if not, no worries — she’s on a first name basis with her abortionist. Bonus creampie if she’s a lawyer.
• If she’s 25-30 and all of the above, you had better start being careful where your boys lodge themselves. Use a condom for the first few weeks, then tentatively move to rawdogging. Check if she’s on the pill, but that’s not always a guarantee of child-free bliss. Too many girls — woops! — forget to take it the day you shoot inside her. To avoid this breach of contract, exercise the pull out option. Over the years collecting notches, your timing will become exquisite. You’ll be able to calculate down to the millisecond when you’re about to unload, and pull out at the exact moment you jizz. When you get really good at this, the narrow escape, optimal money shot reposition to her belly, back, or eye, and first stream of jizz will all happen elegantly in one smooth motion, like a hardcore ballet dance — The Nutbuster. It is crucial that you wipe her off with a towel or dirty sock yourself. Don’t leave that responsibility to her. I’ve heard horror stories of girls taking a dollop of the guy’s bellybutton load onto their fingers and inserting it into themselves while he was in the bathroom pissing.
• If she’s 30-35 and has a stupidly fluffy cat or toy dog, you are sailing into stormy waters. Why you would even bother with this kind of woman is beyond me, but let’s assume for purposes of discussion that she is well-preserved and has a hot body. Not only is this chick desperate to get impregnated, she is also more likely to be loaded down with a petri dish worth of STDs. If you insist on rawdogging it with her and blasting on her belly or back, scrub her down with sperm killing soap afterwards. You can do this by gently cajoling her into the shower after sex. Keep an eye on her hands, making sure they don’t go anywhere near your spooge or her vaj. If you use a condom, dispose of it in the toilet, not the garbage. Remember to flush!
• If she’s over 35 and without child or husband, you cannot be too careful. Use two of your OWN condoms (pinprick free) and drop them in an incinerator when you’re done. If no incinerator is available, place the used condom in an airtight iron lockbox for disposal at the local landfill or off the side of an ocean liner. If you make a mistake and blast on her belly, vacuum that shit up. Wiping with your underwear isn’t failsafe enough. If you are truly stupid and blast inside her — drop to your knees and start praying to the god of infertility (Jennifer Aniston) while arranging for your accounts to be moved overseas.

Whatever you do, never let a girl dispose of the condom for you. It sounds crazy, but I’ve been with more than one woman who would do just this. She would grab for the soiled condom and say “I’ll take care of that for you.” I was smart enough to know not to trust a woman with my spermed up condom by herself in the bathroom, so I told her she was acting weird, and flushed the condom myself. Fucking nutso broads.

People have asked me: if you don’t want kids why not just get the ol’ snippity snip? If you treasure your glorious package as much as I treasure mine, you’ll understand why I don’t want scalpels anywhere near there.

It’s too bad men don’t have a right to rip unwanted fetuses from the wombs of women who duped them into fatherhood. At the very least, a law predicated on true fairness would allow men to abort their financial responsibility for any child they didn’t agree on having with a predator slut. I won’t be holding my breath for that day to come.

PS: The title of this post is the working title for my coming magnum opus.

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Contraption

I didn’t bother unhooking her bra. I never do anymore. I pulled it off her like a t-shirt. As I’m squeezing her boobs (and taking a mental note of her remaining “years-to-sag” based on a complicated formula I devised involving underside crease length, armpit spillover when prone, and depth of press), I glance over at her bedside table and notice an unusual object illuminated by the thrift shop lamp. It was a huge, purple vibrator — the luxury model, by the looks of it — with ridges and nubs and hooks and multiple arms sticking out from it, like a saguaro cactus.

I’m pretty sure there was even a scrolling LED screen. It sat there nonchalantly like a potted plant, or a paperweight. Wow, this is embarrassing, I thought. She forgot to put it away. It was so large and ridiculous that I had to interrupt our foreplay to ask her about it.

“Um, that’s quite a contraption you have over there. Just… laying out.”

“Oh yeah, that’s my little toy.” She didn’t sound embarrassed. “I use it every Sunday to masturbate. I can cum ten times with that baby.”

“Ten times? Straight through, or spread out over the day?”

“Like, within an hour or so.”

“Yeah. Impressive.” I tried to figure why her naughty “secret” wasn’t more titillating to me. Back when I was 18 this sort of discovery would have been exciting. Oh, yeah, I would have thought, This chick is kinky! She’s gonna do all sorts of crazy shit in bed! Now that I’m older and more discerning of women I sleep with, a giant purple saguaro vibrator staring at me from across the room doesn’t make me more turned-on by the woman who uses it. In fact, just the opposite. I lower my estimation of her as a worthy girl in whom I would be happy to take out on creative, exciting dates. Ladies, this is what a man thinks of you when he notices your purple saguaro and you don’t seem fazed by him discovering it:

1. novelty seeking (slut)
2. sexually adventurous (slut)
3. horny all the time (slut)
4. unconcerned about men’s opinions of her (good god, what a slut)

Now 1 – 3 aren’t problems if the girl possesses reasonable degrees of those urges, or if you’re just looking for an uncomplicated fling. You don’t want to hitch your weenie wagon to a frigid ice queen. Number 4 is a flashing red light that she is a cheating whore at heart. Any girl who can’t be bothered to take the two seconds worth of effort to hide her absurd sex toys when a man comes over is a girl who won’t think twice about cheating on you. Even if most girls aren’t delicate, precious chaste creatures, you at least want the girl you are dating to pretend like she is and acknowledge your opinion of her matters — and one thing that matters very much to guys, even if they won’t admit it to the girl’s face, is that the girl he is with isn’t the town orifice. Men want their women, at a bare minimum, to take token stabs at modesty. It’s endearing to us and suggests you will be worth keeping around. We don’t want women to embrace their sluttiness as if it were a postmodern badge of honor. A good woman understands this and heeds a man’s romantic sensibilities.

The trick for men is finding a balance in women between unrepressed sexuality and faithful frigidity. Too much of the former = cumguzzling slut. Too much of the latter = blue balls. A proudly displayed purple saguaro says “I’m a slut, and you’ll like it.”

I’ve found that the more power I acquire over women, the pickier I’m becoming. I won’t call back a girl who has a purple saguaro on her nightstand. This choosiness has strengthened my character. I’m a better man for it.

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No You Don’t Sound Bothered At All

I got a lot of trackbacks to my post on identifying sluts, and I was able to read the comments from a few of the links. This one was from a Facebook discussion forum:

It’s fun sometimes to listen to people talk, because they’ll broach the subject of slut. I’ll ask them whats their definition? They’ll give me some silly vague definition about women who sleep with lots of men. I have slept with more than 3 dozen (and I have no shame in it) and I remind them of that. Then they will say, but you don’t dress like one! You aren’t a tease! You aren’t a liar!
Haha.

— [removed to protect the guilty]

😯

The accompanying profile pic showed a somewhat attractive girl in her mid 20s. 36+ partners. Saddle up! Here’s something I’d like to remind her: The median number of sex partners for American women is three. You are a cheap, easy lay who has spread for more than ten times the number of cock as the typical woman. Don’t think you can fool the alphas for long by dressing conservatively. Attractive men have enough experience to recognize the subtler slut cues. No self-respecting man who knew of your past would take you seriously as a long term or marriage prospect. A lot of them will fuck you, but that’s not the same thing as winning their commitment. No, you will wind up settling for a grateful beta in your mid 30s, stewing in your resentment and bitterness, wondering why it all ended up like this. On the upside, when you divorce him after two years because he had the gall to discover you cheating, the law will look kindly upon you and your scoured aging vagina and give you half his hard earned money. Plus the house and dog.

I bet she has a masculine digit ratio.

Personally, I prey on girls like this because I know they will put out faster. I’m a huge fan of sluts and when I know I’m dating one I will spend less money on her and push harder and sooner for unlubed anal sex. If I was interested in a relationship, I wouldn’t even think twice about dumping her for a higher value girl with fewer past partners. (Or, more accurately, moving the slut to third string.) Sluts know this is true deep in the crevices of their souls, which is why, despite (or because of) their indignant protestations and transparent sophistry to the contrary, they really do get bothered when called out.

I can hear the lamentations of the cumhounds now.

“Oh, but you write a game blog all about making it easier for men to pick up women. You’ve had way more partners than me. Hypocrite!”

Dear sluts,
Don’t you know it’s different for guys?

It’s important to screen out slutty girls like the one above if you are looking to get married, otherwise you run a higher risk of ending up like this poor beta.

GARDEN CITY, New York: A New York doctor is demanding his estranged wife pay him $US1.5 million ($2.1 million) to compensate him for the kidney he gave her while they were still on good terms.

Richard Batista, 49, said he gave his kidney to Dawnell Batista in June 2001, and she filed for divorce in July 2005.

The couple has three children, aged 8, 11 and 14.

The New York Post reported that Dr Batista was dumped after his wife started seeing a physical therapist she met in 2003 while recovering from a knee injury suffered in karate lessons. “I saved her life and then to be betrayed like this is unfathomable. It’s incomprehensible,” the Post quoted Dr Batista as saying.

“She engaged in an extramarital affair and refused to go to marital counselling and reconciliation.

“She slapped me with divorce papers in the operating room while I was trying to save another patient’s life.”

😈

Like an innocent beta lamb to the slaughter. Funny how people think being a doctor automatically confers alpha status. And then they scoff when I helpfully remind them that women are inherently amoral animals, and thus should never be taken seriously as moral equals. I have your kidney? You saved my life? Big deal, you’re a beta! And the physical therapist got me wet. What did you expect?

This gullible schmo probably thought toiling away for four years in medical school would guarantee him a smooth, happy ride with women. Fool. A few hours spent reading my blog would have better prepared him to avoid the ex-wife ass raping he got.

Squeal like a beta, boy!

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How To Tell That Being Called A Slut Matters To Girls

Maxim #77: Women will screech louder the closer your words get to damaging or exposing vulnerabilities in their sexual market value.

Based on the above maxim (and as amply demonstrated by the recent histrionic howling of the jezguzzling automatards shrieking on cue when confronted with my disconcerting words of truth), the top three soulkilling disses, in descending order of female ego destruction:

• Being called ugly
• Being called old
• Being called a slut

Corollary to Maxim #77: Assuming your words aren’t too wide of the mark thus blunting the serrated edge of their slice, the worst insult you can call a woman is “hideously ugly old cougar cumfunneling whore”.*

This has been a public service announcement courtesy of The Hell Matrix From Which You Can Run, But Cannot Escape.

PS The male equivalents are:

• Being called a loser
• Being called a coward
• Being called a fag

*Note that some women, particularly those of the fat, slutty and spinstery variety, will co-opt these words and use them among themselves in a transparently feeble attempt to mute their power to psychologically wound. When you hear women doing this, know that their soft underbellies are turned up for the quick and easy evisceration. “Cunt” is an especially vicious insult that never fails to get under the skin.

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