There are three abiding truths about chicks and their attraction for jerks.
- The romantic allure of charismatic jerkboys is stronger than the romantic allure of dependable niceguys, in nearly all circumstances.
- There are environmental conditions that can repress or amplify women’s innate love for jerks.
In this post I make the case that we are living in a Golden Age for Charismatic Jerkboys.
Note: I did not say we are living in a Golden Age “of” charismatic jerkboys. Rather, the age is ripe for jerks, should they assert themselves, to exploit the presently configured sexual market to their hedonistic benefit.
It’s not a surprise that, among those nethers-deep in the American dating scene, there is a shared opinion that jerks do especially well with women. It’s neither a coincidence that this opinion has disseminated through the dank and vile with the same gusto that the overarching culture alternately chest thumps and whimpers its way toward a new norm of masculinized women and feminized men.
All one need do is peruse the SJW oeuvre on the usual striver media outlets for accumulating evidence of an epidemic of low T faggotry sweeping through Millennial manlets. Men, White men mostly, have become cringing, feminist boilerplate reciting, race cucked suck-ups to every group making a claim against their impudent White male privilege.
Opposing this gathering effeminacy are the women, who seem hellbent to secure the blessings of frat bro licentiousness to themselves and their twerking posteriors. No one seriously argues that megaphony feminists aren’t mostly a collection of ugly manjaws with masculine behavioral profiles. But there remained hope that screeching feminist stridency was a niche market, leaving the wider society unscathed.
That hope may be premature, if vagnettes like this one recounted by Jonathan Haidt, the popularizer of the five moral senses that distinguish shitlibs from normals, are indicative of scenes across the fruitless plains.
Mean girls and cowed boys. A sure recipe for sexlessness and false rape accusations, leavened with romantic entreaties for pre-kiss consent forms and Title IX Damegeld.
This is the manginarrific milieu the amused jerkboy find himself navigating. And if he is perceptive, he’ll know this means his time is now.
How so? Think about the CH maxim that the best way to understand women is first to accept the disconnect between their words and actions. When leaned-in careerist tankgrrls shriek against slut shaming, the patriarchy, and phalloaggressions, as sycophantic eunuchs scrape and bow before the clitdick juggernaut, these women are really projecting a mournful need for the ministrations of the very type of men they hold up as exemplars of chauvinist misogyny.
The weakness and effeminacy of the males around them is the very triggering (or one such triggering) that impels women to lash out at men in the aggregate; and, as is the wont of the supremely rationalizing sex, to lash out specifically at a fantasy simulacrum of the exciting, dangerous, sexually irresistible badboy who is regrettably missing from their alpha-parched lives.
The charismatic jerkboy will stand out as a sexual savior from among this melange of mewling manboobs. His product, so rare and valuable in a sexual market saturated with softies, will be sought after with a vengeance by economically self-sufficient and urban heat island-anonymized women intoxicated to apoonplexy from the merest whiff of unapologetic, sexually entitled alpha maleness.
We are currently living in an environment that is amplifying women’s desire for jerks. What was once a latent female lust, controllable with the proper societal and peer inputs, for the ZFG jerk has exploded into a delirious hunger that no social control, even if it was available and willing to be deployed, could possibly dampen now.
Women HATE HATE HATE weak men, with the same passionate revulsion that men HATE HATE HATE uglyfat women. Of course, few women have the cognitive awareness or discipline, or the sadistic stones, to come right out and say they hate male weakness, so they engage in a little of the ol’ ultratransference of their negative feelings onto socially approved targets of hate, i.e., sexy patriarchal jerkboys.
So every time there’s a public showing where beta manlets once again perform down to feminist lapdog expectations, the howl of women for the heads of wished-for patriarchs on spikes intensifies. And, every time an amused jerkboy steps into this chaos to plunder the down under, he walks away from the scene of his 50 shades of crime glowingly reviewed by those very same shrews. In fact, his pleasure vessels might send him a post-cortical thank you note for his efforts to restore their faith in mankind.
Lesson for aspiring jerkboys: Stop paying attention to what women say, and start giving them what they truly, deeply, want. Your journey begins on your feet, instead of at hers.
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