Tomboys Vs Girly-Girls

I once dated a girl who was a professed hardcore tomboy in her youth. She played team sports where she excelled and hurt opponents with her jabbing elbows of competitive zeal. She had very little fashion sense and needed the assistance of her girlier friends (men and women) when shopping, which is an activity she hated. She loved sex and had the libido of a man.

She was not a lesbian, nor did she have lesbianic tendencies, a presumption you would be forgiven for having since it is true that there is some correlation between tomboyishness and dykery.

It’s unremarkable to point out that it is in the nature of women to dress up. They make themselves shiny not only to attract the eye of a quality man but to compete with other women in their social milieu. It is an oft heard truism that when a couple walks into a room the women will check out the girl first before giving the guy a look. A woman lavishly dresses up in context-appropriate ways not just to impress other women but to frighten them into giving up and going home so that she may absorb all the male attention like the sole whore in a brothel in the middle of the desert. As women’s fashion is spiked armor adorned with the heads of female foes, make-up is war paint for chicks.

Tomboys don’t participate in this fashion arms race, and their refusal to conform to the gender norm means they do not get along with the girly-girls, for the most part. You will rarely see tomboys and tinseltarts enjoying each other’s company, unless it is in a mating venue where the tomboys opportunistically leech off of the male attention that girly-girls naturally soak up. You’ll sometimes hear a tomboy claim to have a princess for a best friend, when in reality she only hangs out with her on clubbing nights, or at the mall for shopping advice.

Tomboys can be charmingly naive in their forwardness with men, and their total lack of guile. But the dirty secret is that most men actually like it when a woman is a little bit coy with them. Coyness inspires pursuit.

Tomboys much prefer the company of men for friends. Men, in turn, like tomboys for their friendliness, approachability, common interests and ease of sexual access, but tomboys rarely arouse men as viscerally as do feminine girls. Soft, mealy men will often wind up the long-term partners of tomboys, as these types of women tend to fill that gaping emasculated void in soft men’s souls.

A tomboy wise to the ways of men may ask her girlier friends why they even bother dressing up? Men will size you up 90% of the way in a second with a quick glance at your face, hourglass figure, ass and breasts, they might say. (Well, they would say it in so many words after it is filtered through the female voicebox transmogrification module sapping the words of all their urgency and power.) Three months later he might notice you keep your hair up instead of down.

But that’s the tomboy’s problem in an eggshell. The accoutrements of girlishness — clothes, makeup, jewelry, mannerism — are as much for the detriment of other women as they are for the benefit of men.

Contrary to perceived wisdom, it is actually harder to break up with a tomboy than with a girly-girl. You may think tomboys, with their masculine airs, would be better equipped emotionally to put the thought of a lost lover behind them, but tomboys are as hopelessly romantic as straight men. They suffer badly when dumped. It’s the girly-girls who, untethered from flights of abstraction or notions of loyalty, recover quickly from being dumped.

That is, unless they have first fallen in love. Then all bets are off.

Game Is Universal

It’s not often Le Chateau gets emails like this one about gaming your mom. For those denialists of the human condition who completely misunderstand and fervently believe that game only works on bar sluts, behold its power to improve relationships with overbearing mothers.

This is a long reader-submitted story, but it’s worth your time.

I have been reading your website for a year and a half now, got a girlfriend for almost a year now, many thanks for the advice.

The purpose of this letter is to share with you how I overcame beta-ness and improved relationship with my mom.

I was a beta before your site. While I realized that my behaviour was not right (ie doesn’t attract girls), I did not know how to correct it. I am 20, live with parents, and go to university. After reading your site extensively I started putting conscious efforts in changing my mindset, adopting the alpha mentality and DHV, being more open to people, talking to girls in class and so on. I am not the kind of guy who goes to bars and clubs so a fair portion of your advice remained in “theory” stage for me…

So, looking for ways to apply your advice I started using it on my mom. Before being judgmental, hear me out. My mother is a strong-willed, opinionated, demanding woman. My father is an alpha. Even after many years of marriage, every time my mom talks to my dad, her eyes glitter and her voice softens and even becomes slightly nervous. However, every time she spoke to me, her tone switched to loud, demanding as if I was some asian kid who got a B on a math test instead of an A+. She would not appreciate anything I do, order and command me around the house, blame everything on me, sometimes even her own wrongdoings, and if I argued back she would become argumentative and shut me up (!!!) My dad didn’t care enough to play the judge, though if he heard blatant abuse, he would shamelessly put my mom in her place.

It took about 4-6 months to COMPLETELY change my mom’s attitude toward me.

-I started by ignoring her demands. (Your advice on Beta’s are reactive) So if she was relaxing in the basement and would command me to make her “a hot chocolate with marshmallows” while I was busy upstairs, I would just pretend that I didn’t hear it, turn the volume up etc.; If she persisted/confronted I would say “I’m busy” or “Get it yourself”. Similarly, I stopped responding immediately when called and would wait until she would call me about 2-4 times before showing any signs of life.

-I stopped being argumentative and confrontational. If any argument arose, I would loudly and clearly state my point of view ONCE, explain why she is wrong, and fully disengage from the situation. If she continued arguing, scolding, yelling and screaming at me I would ignore it and focus on something else like TV, txting, or just walking out. Now, she would always have the last word in every argument and with my disinterest to continue, the arguments eventually grew into ways of qualifying to me, as I would dismiss them.

-I stopped answering the house phone. (Your advice on subtle dominance plays) There was panic in the household for about a week as all calls went to the answering machine lol. However, naturally, after I stepped down from the role of the secretary my mom assumed the duty and BROUGHT the phone to ME, if somebody called.

-I learned to cook and started critiquing her cooking. (Your advice on having a checklist and knowing what you want) Every once in a while I started making really delicious meals for the family. Since she cooks most of the time if she burned food, made it bland, too dry, too salty you name it I would call her out on it and refuse to eat it. To the obvious comeback of: “well why don’t you cook then” naturally my reply was “I do, and its ALWAYS just right…”

-Finally, I started playfully negging, teasing and not taking her seriously. Don’t get the wrong idea here lol. [Ed: I hope not!] Anything she would say I would turn and twist around in a funny way, at times even in a dirty and sexual way. If she would stop and say “that’s inappropriate”, I would reply “We are all adults here, and can appreciate it for what it is” (DHV) After a couple of times she would just go with it.

The intricacy of this situation is that changing a relationship with your mother is much more complex than changing it with a girl you just met. You HAVE to remain polite and diplomatic at all times (or else you’ll get kicked out of the house and make everything worse) Looking back I realize why my mom treated me the way she did, and I don’t blame her. Now my mom treats me with respect, just as good as she treats my dad. No more batshit insane demands. Helping out around the house is now APPRECIATED. Now that is not to say that she agrees with everything I do and say; arguments arise MUCH more rarely than they used to and we are able to come to a peaceful resolution without screaming, and laugh it off in a couple of minutes.

You have full permission to use any part of this letter in your blog, though I ask you to not disclose my personal information.

Negging your mom is a great way to defuse her incipient female antagonism to a power vacuum.

I used to corner anti-game denialists on their “bar sluts” trope by asking the more honest of them to draw a comparison with “girl game”, aka youthnbeauty. Think of game as the male equivalent of female beauty: Does T&A work solely on “bar douchebags”, or does it work on all men?

The question is, of course, rhetorical. The allure of an unyielding rack, firm ass, slim waist and pretty face excites the libidos of low class and high class, young and old, douchy and awesome men alike. Equivalently, game, when executed with unforced grace and contextual refinement, arouses all kinds of women, from lawyers to nurses to teachers to SAHMs to foreigners to SWPLs to skanks to HR drones.

As this reader’s story demonstrates, not only is game effective on all types of women beyond the mythological bar slut, game is effective on family members! If you include sales and management (business or social circle) as a form of game, then you could argue that game is effective on men as well.

The only way game works is if it takes a realistic appraisal of human nature. Once game abandons the age-old truths that underlie all human behavior, it ceases to work. The fundamentals of game are as crucial to its success as the fundamentals of gravity and aerodynamics are to flight.

Facebook Is SMV Time Compression Info

Rollo Tomassi writes:

Thank you Mark Zuckerberg for creating the single greatest time-comparative engine men have ever known. I’m not a big fan of Face Book from a male standpoint, but if it has any redeeming aspect it’s that it provably shows men, in stark contrast, how women’s SMV declines. This is driven home all the better because the subject women are usually ones he’s known personally for a few years.

I entered my 20s in the early 90s, well before the internet went mainstream. I can vividly remember the women I was banging then and the ones who wouldn’t have a thing to do with me. Now I see them 20 years later thanks to social media and every single one is just ravaged by time and lifestyle. I’ve accepted friend requests from women whose memory from 20+ years ago are ones of flirtatious, beautiful lust-inspiring youth, all to be shattered when I see photos of them in their late 30s and early 40s. Then I pray to God and thank Him for sparing me from being yoked to cows like that in spite of my consuming desire at the time to get with them.

Take a minute to digest this: we are really the first generation of men to have such a convenient comparative tool. There was a time when a man could get with (or not) some girl he fancied and never see her again. Young men hear all the time how inconsequential the women they pine for really are in the grand scheme of things. Now the older men giving him advice have a tool to prove and emphasize that advice, and women have cause to lament the ugly, provable truth.

It used to be that you had to extrapolate the deterioration of a hot girl’s looks by seeing her mother, preferably side by side. (The mother-daughter couples I see at the mall are testament to the chasm of difference in attractiveness. In a mere twenty years, the majority of women go from deliciously fuckable to sexually worthless. Rampant obesity worsens the decline, as most American women don’t hit their fattest, blobbiest years until after their 30s.)

Even then, the extrapolation was never anything more than an academic exercise. After all, it is easy to compartmentalize the mother from the daughter. Men could logically tell themselves this is what their lovers would look like in short order, but it didn’t have the visceral impact that actually seeing *an older version* of their young lovers would have.

Looking at old photos of exes was always a dreamy nostalgia trip, because men have rarely had access to newer, updated photos of exes or high school and college crushes: you left a girl or she left you, and that was that. You never saw her again, unless you really went out of your way. So your memories remained untainted by fresher biosystem information.

But now Facebook gives us that instant-comparison tool, and holy shit on a breakfast platter, is it effective, and disheartening. As Rollo said, there is now, for the first time in human history, a whole generation (or two) of men who have millions of saved photos of their younger lovers, not to mention sweet memories of them, side by side with instantly accessed photos of those same lovers five, ten, even twenty years later, thanks to the proliferation of social media and female attention whoring. And as the Facebook culture becomes entrenched, this “time-comparative engine” will only become more widespread, and eye-opening to millions of men.

There could be no more powerful way to inculcate to a man new to the game the first principle that women are largely interchangeable in the dating market than by handing him the keys to Facebook and the dangerous secrets locked within. The female aging process of past lovers compressed into seconds will shatter the hardest pedestals and deflate the headiest romantic idealism. There is no poem in the world that can fully express that disenchanting feeling.

Mexico’s Marriage Contracts

Not too many innovations come out of Mexico’s ruling white elite, but this legislation seems to fit the bill.

The left-leaning assembly is studying a new initiative to introduce temporary marriage licenses that would expire after two years if the couple so desires.

The proposal, intended to reduce the bureaucratic costs and emotional toll of divorce, has garnered as many fans as foes: Some see it as a pragmatic alternative, while others, including the Roman Catholic Church, see it as an attack on family values. It comes as Mexico grapples with its own culture war in the world’s second-largest Catholic country. […]

To its authors, the proposal reflects social changes in Mexico City, where they say most divorces occur in the first two years. If after two years, couples decide to [stay married] until “death do us part,” they can renew their licenses. If not, the proposal specifies how children and property are handled.

“The proposal is, when the two-year period is up, if the relationship is not stable or harmonious, the contract simply ends,” Leonel Luna, the assemblyman who co-wrote the bill, told Reuters. “You wouldn’t have to go through the tortuous process of divorce.”

Divorce is now woven into the cultural fabric of most modern and modernizing nations. It’s entrenched, and while rates seem to be leveling off in the US, there is no indication that lifelong marital vows are making a comeback. In fact, the lower, and later, rates of first marriage are  likely the primary cause of the leveling of the divorce rate: with fewer couples getting hitched, and fewer still getting hitched at a young age when options are highest and instability is greatest, there are fewer bad marriages coming to fruition and boosting the divorce rate. Selection bias.

The marriage contract is a last-ditch attempt to address the ill effects of the divorce culture, and it may be a lifesaver for Western men who have been getting the ass ramming end of divorce court since the 1970s. Wifey drifting away and implicitly threatening you with theft of your house and half your savings? Just opt out when the two year contract hits its renewal date. Marriage still going strong (i.e., wifey still gobbling your knob)? Renew, baby! For another two.

I even wonder whether children would suffer any more under a marriage contract system than the no-fault, female rape-y one we have now. If you’ve got a couple of kids and you’re on your second marital renewal at four years, is the amicable opting out of the marriage any worse than the rending of a surprise divorce? Naysayers may argue that marriage contracts encourage abandonment, but I dunno about that. It’s a good bet that societal shaming mechanisms would organically come into place that limit the ease with which spouses turn to leaving contracts. And it’s kind of like abortion: when you know you have that option to end the marriage after two years, you are probably more likely to be relaxed (read: more alpha, sexier) with your partner and therefore more inclined to do the exact opposite of behaving in a way that the contract system is designed to mitigate.

Feminist Self-Owned On Male Porn Star Theory

Slate, that bastion of feminist mental gymnastics, has an article about some male porn star who appeals to women because he supposedly embodies nonthreatening boyishness.

In the winter issue of Good Magazine, Amanda Hess has a fascinating profile of James Deen, a young, handsome porn star who is becoming famous for actually appealing to women. Due to his boyish, slightly skate-punk aesthetic, naturally toned body, and ability to connect emotionally (or at least appear to) with his female co-stars, Deen has garnered a following of devoted young women in an industry that in most cases ignores them entirely. Hess explains that Deen’s school-boy charm is what makes him approachable—and sexy—to his female fans:

Deen has carved out a niche in the porn industry by looking like the one guy who doesn’t belong there. Scroll through L.A.’s top porn agency sites and you’ll find hundreds of pouty women ready to drop to their knees, but just a few dozen men available to have sex with them. These guys all have a familiar look—neck chains, frosted tips, unreasonable biceps, tribal tattoos. Deen looks like he was plucked from a particularly intellectual frat house.

Hess goes on to discuss why there aren’t more guys like Deen in the male porn-star stable, and her findings tell us just as much about male viewers’ hang-ups as they do about women’s erotic preferences. Part of the problem is that men (who largely control the porn industry) imagine that women want everything big—“Big arms. Big abs. Big dicks,” as Hess puts it—when what they really want is something a little less overwrought. One of Hess’ subjects described her attraction to Deen thusly:  “He was almost like a guy that you would just hang out with at Hebrew school.”

What a robust theory from sex-positive feministland! A hardcore male porn star women love because he’s a caring, emotionally available niceguy. Except it isn’t true.

A number of commenters familiar with the field pointed out the factual problems with Hess’ theory.

You’ve got to be kidding. This guy, while lacking in tribal tattoos, makes up for it in being like every other incredibly raunchy porn star. As a normal heterosexual male, I’ve seen him in tons of porn (as there’s really only like 5 male porn stars, as the article says, and there [sic] in everything), and, past looks, he is in no way some sensual lovemaking hebrew camp dude. He does not stare longingly into their eyes and whispers in their ears. He chokes women, slaps them, does pretty degrading things to them. He fits perfectly into the stereotype of porn as a male-centric, women-as-objects display of power. If women actually watch him, If a women who did not like porn watched one of his, they would in no way find it any different, save the frosted tips, ect. This artice is really silly.

***

Do a google search or xvideos search for “pornstar punishment” with “James Deen” and you can see for yourself how well he “emotionally connects” with the women while he chokes them and slaps them. The article seems kind of funny after seeing that. Poorly researched.

Hilarity. Another crackpot feminist theory bites the dusty muff. It seems the truth is as it always was, particularly of women who love to watch male-oriented porn: chicks dig jerks, especially jerks who choke and slap them during “lovemaking”.

Why do feminists run like rats from a spotlight beam whenever they are confronted with the reality of female sexual nature and women’s preference to surrender to dominant men? What is it about that fact that sends them into paroxysms of nonsensical deconstructivism babble?

Steve Sailer has pithily remarked that the goal of feminist writers is to rearrange the world so that, come the revolution, ugly feminists will be desired by men. I have a corollary to that theory.

Feminists loathe the objectification of women because they know they don’t measure up as objects of desire.

The natural female desire to submit to a powerful man is especially galling to feminists, because it strikes at the heart of their conceit: that women can, and more importantly, *want* to scale the heights of achievement just like men do, and the only thing stopping them is misogyny and the patriarchy. If feminists were forced to acknowledge that most women have no such inclination, that in fact they prefer to support with their love and affection a worthy alpha male, they would have to face the unpleasant truth that they are a minority of masculinized freaks out of touch with the majority of their own sex. Outcasts are always fighting to make the rest of the world seem deluded and tyrannical.

That Slate article has another doozy of a theory about why there aren’t more James Deens in male-centric visual porn.

But the real obstacle to the proliferation of female-friendly male porn stars is, oddly, a rather nasty and subtle strain of homophobia, revealed in the following double-bind:

The straight male performer must be attractive enough to serve as a prop, but not so attractive that he becomes the object of desire.

Hess is spot on. Men need to see a penis in straight porn (presumably to stand in for their own), but not one that is attached to a guy who might be threateningly attractive, not to mention plausibly appealing to the woman involved. Maybe this insistence on a male blank slate (a kind of reverse objectification, when you think about it) makes it easier to project oneself onto the disembodied penis, but it also protects men from the potentially scary experience of being turned on by both partners of a heterosexual encounter—which, yes, does involve another dude. In other words, the bland interchangeability of the “unreasonable” looking men allows them to avoid confronting the terrifying specter of homosexuality.

Yup, homophobia is the reason why there aren’t feminist-approved male role models in porn.

Folks, you can’t make this shit up. Unless you’re a graduate of Columbia University.

Gay fabulosity is most likely biological in origin, so straight men are not going to be turned on by the penises pounding away in porn or the men attached to those penises, no matter how nonthreatening they look. Straight men watch porn because the sight of a hot babe’s body in the throes of sex, and the visual of various female orifices getting penetrated, is arousing. Straight men don’t like to see the faces of the male porn stars because it’s distracting from the action, and BONER KILLING.

The NewYorkBetaTimes, of all organs, even had a story about a study which proved that the sight of penises or men engaged in gay sex has no effect on the penile responses of straight male viewers. But I guess to the gatekeepers of the homophobia grievance flame, such inconvenient truths are mere speed bumps in the road to an ego-ensconcing distortion of reality.

I wonder if people realize that three quarters of mainstream internet websites would disappear overnight if a law mandated that no more than half of their content could be feelgood, made-up shit.

Supply Your Own Caption

From this story:

I’ll start.

“King Kong swats at a cheap tipper.”

The Handsome Man-Ugly Woman Couple Syndrome

I was participating in a mobile conference which included question and answer periods, and I noticed an odd couple standing to my side. He was youngish and good-looking — most women would agree on his physical attractiveness — and his wife was a snout-nosed, inbred-looking, stringy-haired, big fat pig dressed in sweatshirt and ill-fitting jeans. In other words, the typical American woman. I assumed they were married because I saw their rings and she had her hand on a stroller with an infant tucked away in it.

What abomination is this! I thought. But then the reason became crystal clear after only a few moments watching and listening to them interact.

Speaker: Any questions?

Big Fat Pig: [nudging her hubby with her elbow] Honey, remember…

Handsome Husbandry: [tentatively raising his index and middle finger, and haltingly talking] I have a question… I have a…

Speaker: Yes?

Handsome Husbandry: [his question-asking hand lingering in mid-air, other hand stuffed in pocket] What did [X] bring to the event that caused [Y] to happen? It seems like.. it seems as if…

As he asked his question, he kept looking over at his wife — in fact, staring at his wife more than the speaker, although he was ostensibly addressing the speaker. One would be forgiven for having the impression that he was seeking constant real-time assurance from his wife that his question was acceptable for public discourse. Nervously shifting from one foot to the other, leaning into his wife, gazing downward when the speaker responded to him, his body language was so beta it was painful to watch. No, it was repulsive to behold, almost as repulsive as the visual effrontery of his wife’s blubbery carcass.

The wife, meanwhile, assumed the posture and countenance of the alpha male. (Never trust a power vacuum to be left unfilled by man or woman.) She looked straight ahead when her husband was simultaneously asking his question of the group leader and craning his neck to her for approval, and she never once softened her expression into a sympathetic, let alone loving, smile at him. (Some men go through life never knowing the exquisite pleasure of a woman’s appreciative gaze of admiration.) There was no unspoken, feminine job well done crease of the eyes on her porcine face. Just stone cold indifference, spiced with a hint of contempt.

Yep, like I said… CRYSTAL CLEAR.

It’s illuminating to compare our reactions to different mismatched couples. Think about what you say to yourself when you see the following pairings (remember that you have nothing to go on except what they look like):

Handsome man with beautiful woman

All is right in the world. You infer the man has alpha characteristics to complement his good looks, and he has cashed that in for a hot babe. You would be surprised, were you to talk to him, if he wasn’t charming and a bit arrogant. You do not doubt the woman’s judgment.

Ugly man with ugly woman

All is right, if depressing, in the world. You infer the ugly man has beta or even omega characteristics, and that an ugly woman was the best he could do. You assume the ugly woman resents him for having to settle, but knows she has no other options. Love between them is less about passion than it is about task delegation and avoidance of suicidal loneliness.

Ugly man with beautiful woman

Wow, he is shooting out of his league! But then, thinking on it a bit, you recall that you saw quite a few couples like this mismatched pair during the week. It’s less rare than popularly imagined. You may ask yourself “What does she see in him?”, and from that you infer the ugly man has compensating alpha attributes to snag such a hottie — maybe he’s wealthy, or slick, or funny, or a dominating asshole, or some combination of each. You assume this ugly man has options to be able to choose a beauty for a girlfriend.

Handsome man with ugly woman

Whoa, what is he thinking?! An uncommon sight, (occurrence less frequent than its polar opposite), you presume the handsome man has some debilitating personality flaw — maybe social awkwardness, or shyness, or micropenis — that prevents him from fornicating with his true potential. Unlike the mirror image couple of the ugly man with the beautiful woman, you do not give the ugly woman the benefit of the doubt in assessing why she was able to catch a handsome man. You simply conclude, reasonably, that the handsome man is not the alpha male on the inside that he looks like on the outside, and therefore the ugly woman is not really dating out of her league. There must be something wrong with him, you think.

***

The last mismatched pairing is the subject of this post because it so powerfully illustrates a fundamental tenet of game: a man’s looks are of limited utility as a measure of his alphaness and, hence, his attractiveness to women.

When we see couples out and about we usually resort to sizing them up based on immediately discernible criteria like looks and style. This judgmental shorthand works well on women for whom looks are their most salient sexual currency, but shows its limitations as a method of discerning a man’s dating market value, as exemplified by the couple in the story above.

This is why most people have a tendency to assume the best about ugly men who pair up with beautiful women, and assume the worst about handsome men with ugly women. There is an instinctive, deeply primitive understanding chugging away behind the prefrontal cortex in every one of us that women sexually respond to a suite of male attractiveness traits, of which looks are only one desirable male quality. It is therefore not inconceivable to most non-brainwashed observers that an ugly man might have other characteristics that appeal to a beautiful woman on his arms, or that a handsome man might be crippled with weakness and self-doubt that constrains his ability to attract no better than a big fat pigwoman.

Contrast that instant appraisal we all have of the men in mismatched pairings with how we think about the women in such relationships. A beautiful woman with an ugly man does not have beta characteristics; she is simply drawn to other attractive attributes in him which we are not as privy to as his looks. (E.g., He must be a rich/famous/funny/charming dude!) An ugly woman with a handsome man does not have positive compensating alpha female attributes; she is simply settling for a beta who happens to look good. (E.g., What’s wrong with him?)

In the mismatched couple I witnessed, it was clear that whatever good will or tokens of desire that the handsome man had inspired in his pigwoman were completely squandered by his beta behavior. It was easy to see by her loathsome demeanor that his looks no longer held — if they ever did beyond the first couple of dates — any sway over her feelings for him. But being the big fat pigwoman she is, she knew she could not do better.

And that is why the generational increase in human beauty is a slow, painstaking process, punctuated by tragic reversals to a sloping brow norm (see: Appalachia, Detroit). Handsome betas are polluting the gene pool with pigwoman blood.

Maxim #59: We tend to defer to looks as a judgment of a man’s sexual market value because that is what is most easily observable given situational and time constraints, but a man’s looks are only one male attractiveness trait among many that account for his desirability to women.

Corollary to Maxim #59: A woman’s sexual market value is more accurately judged solely by instant appraisal of her looks.

The next time you see a handsome man with an ugly woman, before you scratch your head in confusion remind yourself that you are not seeing the whole picture. A beta male’s soul is not always judged by his cover.

Then parade your hot girlfriend in front of him and his pigwoman. Hopefully, it will ignite a spark of manly fortitude, and his sack will grow three sizes that day.