So, this is turning into a loooooong back and forth between me and Adam Piggott, concerning the aims of a man.
It was all prompted by a post Adam did based on an email he received from what was obviously a rather depressed guy. Adam has forwarded my post to him too. You can go to this post of mine and read the link on it to catch up if you had no idea what I am talking about.
And what has become clear to me is that there is a kind of communication gap, which I feel I am mostly responsible for as it is not a new thing.
I have a tendency to see something that to me is obvious but tends to be clearly less so to others, and so I will try to explain it from my perspective but invariably miss some apparently crucial bit of information that would allow the normal humans to understand my perspective.
Because it is not usually clear to me why so many others don’t see perspectives that are obvious to me, it tends to lead me to be more verbose in my writing than is probably good or necessary. Which also irritates me no end, yet if I write just what I think is necessary it comes across as mystical haikus by an insane person to most people. So I try to cover as many of the possible gaps as I can in the hope to transmit the crucial aspects that differentiate my view from that of most people. And it’s all mostly futile.
Nevertheless, it is good for me to practice trying to communicate better with the species of humanoids found on this planet, so here goes:
Succinctly, Adam effectively says:
You need to make something of yourself before you attract the right woman for you.
Everything else is details and you should focus on that first because chasing after some dreamgirl is pointless anyway if you aren’t amounting to anything as humans measure success.
How you feel about it is irrelevant, this is how it works.
I’ll let him say if I have in any way misrepresented him.
My points instead are:
Sure, materially speaking that is how it works most of the time, but (and it’s an important but):
Telling a depressed guy that has as an aim to be in a relationship, and who is relatively young, who has had little or almost no experience of women that that is just how it is and he should just buckle up and first make something of himself over the next few years, is unlikely to lead that man to anything positive.
Materially speaking is not just semantics; it means related to, involved with, tied to, the material world. That aspect that we as Christians are told to not indulge in.
The most important aspects of life are rooted in the metaphysical, not the material.
Really, I thought I made it perfectly clear that what I thought was wrong with Adam’s “advice” was that it was not helpful. I didn’t say it was necessarily wrong, but it missed the point of how to motivate the man towards the things he desires.
I mean, the very paragraph where I explain this is taken by Adam to mean I am somehow contradicting myself, which I find astonishing, since it’s a clarifying statement of my critique.
As for “doing things” and leaving a mark before you get the girl, sure, that is generally how it works out, but it’s wrong to think that is how you motivate yourself. The motivation is the other way round. You want the girl? So become someone worthy of whatever fantasy girl you have in your head.
That aside, the example Adam picked to possibly act as some evidence against my perspective is far from perfect since apparently the individual concerned may have worked as a male escort, and in any case was already known to police, and was a diagnosed schizophrenic. So not exactly your common incel. Frankly I find him irrelevant to the topic at hand.
Nor, did I say the man should try and get his dreamgirl before making something of himself. I simply stated that the motivation to make something of himself will not come from telling him to buckle down and carry on unloved and unknown and unsought for in his crushing loneliness for years before he can even think of getting into a relationship. Which essentially is what Adam’s advice boiled down to.
My whole point was that as a motivator, imagining who that woman might be and using that image as a motivator to get you to make something of yourself is far more effective even if you remain just as single and alone for the same length of time described above as years.
Lastly, while I accept that this is Adam’s and probably most people’s perspective on the matter, it is not strictly a fact that if you meet the right girl when you have not yet made your mark in the world you will either be in constant anxiety at the thought she might leave you, and/or that she would. The first serious girlfriend I had lasted 13 years and I had no mark to be made yet and very little money and I had left home with all I owned packed into a car to get as far from my parents as I could. My “fame” at that point was limited to the fact I was unafraid to get into physical fights regardless of numbers against me. That was really about it. In any case I never had any anxiety about being dumped, and in fact I was not. Ultimately it was me that walked away from that relationship.
I also find his statement that
Becoming worthy is conquering the world, which means making a man of yourself.
Rather telling and also amusing. I certainly never had to “make” a man of myself. I was born male and that is really all there was to it.
I have always been thoroughly unconcerned with the perspective of needing to be thought of as “manly” or “being a man” or such concepts. The simple reality is that I was born male, will live every second of my life as male and will die as a male. It is simply a fact. The obsession the Anglos tend to have with being thought of as “a man” is rather telling and a little Shakespearean. In a “the lady doth protest too much” kind of way.
And if one is that way inclined, that is, to worry about being perceived as, or needing to somehow become a man, then, yeah, I am sure one of the many neuroses such people have will certainly extend to the fear of their girlfriend leaving them. And I can see that manifesting too.
Which brings me full circle back to the depressed guy as well as Adam’s ending point about being “fixated” on finding a woman and that being wrong because it would determine the success or failure of your entire life, while it (the finding of the woman) not being entirely in your control.
There is, from my perspective, quite a bit of bad logic there.
Firstly, one could argue that being able to find the right woman and reproducing with her, for the majority of people, is the real measure of success or failure of your life. Unless you are Nikola Tesla, from any one man’s perspective, your line dying out with you is unlikely to improve mankind. There are always exceptions of course, but as a rule most people think their way and their thoughts would be best and thus, procreating and furthering such is a pivotal aspect of life. It is truly few who intentionally choose to not get married and not have children. Priests are among them. Most other men would consider it a failure at life.
Secondly, I don’t see the looking for the right person to make a family with as being a fixation at all. At least no more than I see breathing as a fixation. I hardly ever consciously think about breathing, yet it is absolutely necessary and I do it all day every day. In short, you can go about your day and do what needs doing and still be breathing, or looking for the right woman.
Thirdly, as I said at the start of my critique, the point is that there really is someone right for you out there, no matter what kind of freak you are. Obviously making yourself as appealing as possible, helps your chances, but even the misshapen, unfortunate gargoyles of life have someone out there that will love them. Knowing this is no more an obsession or a fixation than knowing that one day you will die.
Fourthly, not having something be entirely in your control is a far cry from having no control over it at all. Potentially any number of women I was with could have been suitable or “good enough” to make a life with. Regardless of that, due to my character (which may be seen as unfortunate by many, perhaps) I had certain requirements in a prospective mate that are very probably unreasonable. And yet, eventually, I did indeed find possible suitable candidates, and ultimately, even the precisely right one for me. And if someone like me can do it, believe me, most people can do it, but… you do need to apply yourself. In my experience of life, those men who focus on making money or a career and so on, in turn to eventually, get the dreamgirl, rarely accomplish it. It like guys who work like slaves for 40 years to get to retirement only to find their pension is worthless and you’re out of time and energy to even know what you wanted to do in the first place. The guy who goes through life naturally and who is always on the lookout for the right person, the way one might be on the lookout for a red Pontiac firebird, tends to more readily find it, and he’s usually less obsessive about it than the guy who wants to make a man of himself first, in order to later get the girl.
All of this simply to say that despairing at one’s loneliness and current state of the world, is not the way. And when a person confesses their despair in such a matter, the correct way to advise them, is hardly to double down on their need to be harsher on themselves and their already harsh (and erroneous) perception of the world. The way to motivate them to see the light is to remind them that one day, they will meet that woman, and they can approach life from the perspective that whatever unpleasant task you need to do today, is fine, because it advances you a little further along the path of when you do meet her, and perhaps also in terms of your material well-being.
That’s really the only point I made.
And now you see why writing is a love-hate thing for me.
I recently had yet the umpteenth comment from one of the MGTOW incels that thank God, are self-selecting for their DNA being removed from the gene pool, who, as usual, whined and bitched like the mewling excuse for a man that they invariably are, that you should “protect yourself” from women, divorce and children.
I mean, seriously, these guys make the most flamboyant homosexual look like a paragon of manliness. I also find it extremely funny and interesting that when I invariably thank them and encourage them to absolutely stick to their guns and never change their mind; that is, to make sure they NEVER reproduce and thankfully end their weak and irrelevant line of DNA, they tend to get irate and immediately begin both LOLing in text and trying to insult me, my children and wish death upon them. Truly, it demonstrates being a shadow of a doubt that they are simply absolute cowards, involuntary celibate and incapable of attracting a woman at all and are unlikely to ever do so. And like feminists try to convince other, better looking, sexier, more feminine women to become as miserable as they are, the MGTOW movement is essentially the same thing for men.
Imagine being so weak, so incompetent, so scared of life that you don’t even bother to TRY and find a good woman and make a family. Imagine being such a wuss that you whine and cry about “the gubment” not being on your side. When has it ever been on the side of actual men? Government, as Lysander Spooner pointed out a couple of centuries ago, is simply a coalition of the most violent thugs who take things by force. And they eventually get organised and call themselves government. They are composed of the laziest, most fraudulent, cowardly, vicious parasites humanity has ever created. And while in times long past sometimes these men were the result of courageous warriors taking leadership roles, and it meant from time to time their tyrannical exploits were at least mostly just, today, they are invariably toadies and worm-tongues. And have been for at least a couple of centuries for sure. So, which man, that still has his own set of testicles attached really sits there and whines about “…the government should make it easier for me to…(fill in the blank)”.
What a bunch of useless oxygen thieves they are.
Anyway, now that I have mentioned how I feel about these idiots, allow me to point out one of the infinite benefits of having children.
The littlest one, who has blue eyes like her mom, since my own mother also had blue eyes, has got a serious case of Daddy-itis. So much so that my wife has said if it wasn’t for the fact she breastfeeds, this little one would forget she exists.
The hugs and cuddles and laughter she exhibits just from simple things is amazing. As soon as she wakes up her first word is “daddy!” and then a rush to hug me and give me some kisses. Her first complete sentences are along the lines of asking her brother and mother “Where is daddy?”
She has the ability to interrupt practically anything I am doing by simply saying “Daddy…?” meaning she would like me to notice her and take time with her. The other day her eldest sister was playing a game with her, which consisted of her running towards her sister, then getting picked up and thrown in the air a little. She loved it and carried on doing it but required me watching each run. When I got distracted by missing one of the runs, she ran up to me and gently slapping my leg was like: “daddy, daddy… ook!”
She misses the L from look still.
Each one of them has their own way, the boy invariably asks me if he can help. I gave him the electric pruners the other day, standing over him and making sure he had both hands on them and instructing him all the way as he cut little branches of a bush I was clearing from near the fish pond. I didn’t let it go on too long because his mother was clearly having palpitations watching him snip branches that were several times the size of his fingers. Even so, I can see why farmer’s kids help around the farm by age five or six. A friend of mine was driving the tractor for his dad at age eight, and it was more difficult because he’s a little guy and he could barely reach the pedals. The point is that the natural way of doing things explains why people that were 13 or 14 years old even led armies a few centuries ago. We have been a few generations of molly-coddled, cotton-ball wrapped, bunch of weaklings for at least seven or eight decades now, but I am seeing how simply growing up in touch with nature helps our children return to a natural way of being that has been almost lost for Western men and women. I too was lucky in that I grew up with almost zero supervision outside the home and in as wild an Africa as you got back then, which is nowhere near what it is today. I often feel I was indeed born in the wrong century, either one from long, long, ago, or at least the 1800s might have been almost ideal for me, or then again, maybe a few centuries from now when exploring other star systems is a thing. Well, I think it might be a thing already, but I am just not privy to that aspect of it. Yet. Then again, it’s probably the case every man feels out of time when in reality they are exactly where they need to be.
I don’t want any MGTOW incels anywhere near me. I want men that understand what family is and who know what it feels like to have your little daughter have daddy-its, or your son. Or see one of your children have mommy-itis, like our second-youngest daughter has. And feeling genuine love. The love described in the Bible, that wants nothing for itself, but exists solely to give, and see the beauty in every little moment of the day.
I have never been a huge fan of Hemingway, mostly because I didn’t find his writing particularly great. I could approximate it even as a teenager. And a lot of his “manly stories” were the result of an almost obsessive need to be perceived that way. His life was a serial set of tragedy and drama and the final end of his life was frankly, pathetic. I do not say this to speak ill of the dead, I hope God had mercy on his soul and we all have our demons, but I think it was him that said that for someone to be a man he should plant a tree, write a book and have a child. Well I have done plenty of all of those things, and I have faced some dangerous situations and people, but above all, I think what makes a man is an absolutely unflinching ability to truly know yourself in the very depths.
And I have never met a man that qualifies under that definition that would not have his heart melt when at a two-foot tall little person runs at him every time she sees him, squealing “Daddy!” in delight, as if you had just returned from a six month trip to the Siberian outback, instead of just getting something from one of the garden sheds for five minutes, and who rams into your legs, hugging you then looks up at you full of joy and enthusiasm and stretches her little arms and hands up at you so you can pick her up and she can squeeze your neck into a hug that would be life-threatening if she was little bigger.
So, to those nihilists, boomers, black-pillars, incels, bitter losers at life, acidic feminists (there is no other kind, the PH of their vaginas is literally a threat to all life), and their insipid doom and gloom predictions, all I can say is: Carry on just as you are. Never change.
They are doing us the enormous favour of ensuring that genetic mishap that is them is never propagated further into the species. And that is good. All we want now are the kind of men and women that heard Urban II in the year of our Lord 1095, and listened to him, and acted accordingly with it.
Recently I have been too busy with life to cover some of the things that really matter. And mixed in between my busy life I had several different examples of young(er) men either believing in the despair of modern times, or having bought the black pill on women, or relationships, or life in general, that I tried to answer to them briefly individually, but it brought home once more, why I write.
And in this regard, although most people would never pair these two very different books this way, I think both Caveman Theory and BELIEVE! are possibly the most important I have put together. Caveman Theory is only available as a digital E-book because there is no way Amazon or the other big stores would carry it, as it exposes a bit too much truth for the various peddlers of lies, while BELIEVE! You can find as a paper book there too.
In a way they are the opposite ends of the spectrum. BELIEVE! Was written from the perspective I wish I had encountered when the very concept of Christianity in general, never mind Catholicism in particular, seemed not just absurd and stupid, but even actively evil. There is no denying the Pedophiles and Satanic nonsense and protection of the Pedos that goes on in Bergoglio’s false Church, and Ratzinger’s before him, all the way back to 1958. They ARE evil. Not just as individual fake Popes and priests and Bishops, which the Church has always had, but in their entirety, as an organisation, the entirety of the Novus Ordo fake Catholic Church IS materially and demonstrably evil. And while a LOT of good people remain in it, through ignorance mostly, the same excuse cannot be held for their fake clerics. So of course one would think Catholicism is evil. And I did too. Because they fooled the whole world and what they practice now is the destruction of Catholicism. No one who does not remember Pious XII, who died on the 9th October 1958, has even ever seen or heard a Valid Pope. You’d have to be at least 80 today to have been ten when he died. Every “Pope” after him, every one of them since that day, has been an impostor. But that is a topic I cover in far more detail in Reclaiming The Catholic Church. In BELIEVE! I just cover the very basics in a way I never encountered when I was not Christian.
When I was a man that believed primarily in the concept of having a word, that is a man who kept his word, and had the concepts of honour, truth and justice, but no sense of any god whatsoever, and trusted only in reality as I saw it, and my wit and reflexes to navigate life. I had therefore spent my life in martial arts and doing whatever interested me most. I had spent time with many different women and even got married and divorced twice and all the pain and trouble that goes with that, and I’d hand plenty of extreme experiences in every respect, including supernatural ones that would have made any normal person believe at least something rather deeply. But nothing had moved me from my engineer’s and real scientist’s perspective of requiring empirical and objective, factual proof. I had theories. I could explain any of the supernatural events with multiple possibilities and ignore any subjective internal preference or feeling.
Being a little on the spectrum but high IQ does allow you to do that, objectively and fairly, which is why to the outside world they can sometimes assume I am some kind of sociopath, which is absolutely not the case, since it is not that I do not empathise or do not have feelings. I do, and they are usually stronger than most people’s because with a greater imagination also comes a greater ability to imagine the pain of others, but the advantage I have is a wiring of brain that means I cannot help but see the logic. The numbers. The cold reality behind it all. A little bit like Neo in the Matrix I suppose, while others get stuck in the emotions of the apparent situation, I have always been able to see the code flowing behind it. And then I can use that to get back into the apparent reality better armed and ready to take it on, which can make those more embedded in it assume I am some unfeeling alien. Capable and efficient beyond the norm, but unpredictable and at times apparently unfeeling to a degree that gives normal people a level of fear and discomfort they would rather avoid. And I, for my part, would rather avoid their frightened eyes and small minds too. I know they can’t help it and that it is me that is the “freak” from a statistical perspective, so their reaction is predictable and to be expected. But it is no less tiring for me.
Had I come across someone that had written BELIEVE! As I have —that dealt face on with the reality I saw every day and didn’t dodge the questions I had— in short, that would have presented the arguments as I have, and as I saw them, from someone that had done and been in and had done to them, everything from violence to fear, to love, and lust, and betrayal, to both pain and pleasure unexpected and surprising, perhaps I would have gone on to study the truth about Christianity sooner, and maybe I would have saved myself decades of unknowing search.
Well, in that respect, I think that little book BELIEVE! has succeeded. Many men and several women have now converted to Catholicism (the real one, Sedevacantist as we now need to specify in these times) in part at least because of that little book. And then have gone on to find their wife and marry her and now are awaiting the birth of their first child. These are all couples under thirty where the men range from being far from innocent, to generally originally fairly honest men if not necessarily pious.
In that respect then, BELIEVE! is more a text written for those men who wild and unafraid though they are, still have that sense of truth inside them, that will keep them seeking. Like me I guess, if you never stop, eventually it is true that you will find it. But it may take you twenty years or more than it should.
I wanted to help shorten that time. As far as I can tell —and honestly, to my great surprise— BELIEVE! Succeeded in that beyond my wildest dreams.
But some men (including me as I used to be) are really not interested in reading how some fool found God, and a Catholic God at that?! What nonsense. What a scam. Why would I pay some tenner or more for it, never mind read the stupid thing? No. I knew better! And besides, there is pussy to chase and women to fuck! Training and fighting to be had, and missions to accomplish! Fuck that kneeling fag and his cross.
Yeah. I been there too buddy-boy. So pick up your shield and run and charge. Go crashing into all the dragons and enemies, made of the illusion before us all. Fight hard now, mind. Don’t you slack off and be a weak-kneed bleeding faggot yourself now, you hear? No whining and self-pity when you get hurt and bleed like a bitch and are hurt and alone. No god before you, no god behind you, right? So get up. Stand. Fight hard you little bitch. Stop whining. So you go ahead and you do that. I guarantee, hard as you are, if you really do that without ever relenting, you will, in time, find the truth. And I can tell you three things about it now you might remember when you do:
First, it will take you a long time and it will hurt. You will learn and see and live through many things most men never do. But it will hurt and hurt bad. And when it does, if you quit, if you finally lie down and just die, you lose. You don’t get to find out the truth. This is the reality for most such men. The vast majority. But if you do make it, you will look back and see how long and how much error and pain you suffered that was unnecessary, and much worse, how much of it you caused in your zeal. In your honest search. In your best way… how so very wrong you were.
Second, you will know, even against your wish, against all your long-held beliefs, even if it were against the deep story of your ancestors you learned to love, against your best arguments and feelings, these two things: Jesus Christ is the King of Kings, the only King, and you owe him your eternal allegiance, and secondly, the Catholic Church is the only one that has always stated very clearly all of what that entails, and even the rules you don’t like have a logic and a reason and a divine sense to them, and following them can only result in good. There is a third little corollary to this, and it is that the Catholic Church is much reduced and only a few priests and bishops remain, they are called sedevacantists and hold to the eternal truth of their predecessors faithfully. The actual Vatican does not contain a single Catholic in it and is infested with Satanists and probably vast arrays of demons.
Third: you’ll think me a bastard for not having been more insistent that you read BELIEVE! Or at least G.K. Chesterton. But like you, I only found Chesterton after I already had my road to Damascus event.
Anyway, the fact remains many would not even look at BELIEVE! Almost on “principle” thinking I’m just another idiot/grifter/liar spouting Jesus nonsense.
But some of those guys might be interested in what I certainly was all my life: women.
Pretty, sexy women. Especially the ones willing and able to get naked with you and do all sorts of sexual stuff with you. And how to convince the ones not willing, to become more willing. Not in a bad way, not to just use them and get rid of them to hit some magic number of conquests. At least for me that was never a thing. I enjoyed women and I wanted our time together, brief or long, to be good and happy and fun for us both. Most women couldn’t keep up with me intellectually and very often physically too, so the long term stuff tended to become a kind of myth. A Shangri-La of legend, but I never became bitter or angry at women. I just treated them at the level they treated me, and moved on when they irritated me beyond a certain point, which in my case has always been a fairly low threshold, so… there was a lot of moving on. Originally, as a young man my intent was not to bang around as many women as possible. I just wanted one good one. Life just seemed to make that impossible for me. Or maybe me for them. So I just carried on. I wasn’t finding The One but hey, whatever, I was finding numbers two through to whatever, and enjoying the journey. But ideally, sure, I would have liked to find The One. And when I thought I had maybe found her a few times, it turned out to be a mirage. An illusion of my own mind, really. It was only AFTER, the road to Damascus event, only after that, that I realised how badly my own perspective in all this, women, sex, relationships, was lacking truth.
Not because I was such a liar or deceiver to women in general or any of them in particular. In fact, as a general rule I was brutally honest with them, which meant I was called a bastard more than a few times. The lack of truth was in my not having understood, or perhaps it is better to say in having forgotten, what the truth of love is.
We are all born with it originally (excepting maybe a few serious neurological malformations in the brain or soul).
I remember as a two or three year old playing in the dirt with this little girl my age, I still remember her name, Susanna. And I have since forgotten many of the names and even faces, of the women I have been inside of. So much so that I took to writing their names down at one point, because I knew otherwise I would never recall anything about them. Maybe not even any of the intimate moments. But I still remember little Susanna. Playing with her and feeling so content for that brief moment in my grandmother’s garden. Expecting nothing of her or her of me, and just being at peace and serene with her presence there to keep me company as we played. Even as a child my life was far from settled, so maybe it’s that, though I doubt it as I never saw the moving and travelling and changing country and all the rest of it as bad. It was all just a giant adventure, and I liked exploring, always have. So I really believe, as I look back now, to one of the very few clear memories I have from that age, now more than half a century behind me, that the sensation stayed with me so clear and so long because it was maybe the first time I truly experienced the real sensation of peace, and calm and calm joy that comes from love, unimpeded by anything else. Innocent, as two or three year olds are.
And that aspect, is not there anymore when you have fucked and fucked and fucked yourself into dozens of women and them into you, your heart and theirs battered and scarred by all the violent emotions of a life lived in the world and of the world, where the subtle truths of real meaning float alone only inside yourself, unable to connect with those of others except very briefly into a moment of brutal force you exert on each other to feel something. Where even the tender caresses are brutal and painful because ephemeral and not joined to each other’s hearts even when we might see them. You are there and I am here, there is no One.
So now I saw that. And I saw how I had lived and believed, and not for being a bad guy or having any bad intent, but how even so, my vision was so wrong. So mistaken. Honest. Brave even; persevering for certain at least, but alone almost always, even if not lonely. And just… mistaken. And then I took up to trying to read the Bible. And I read Ephasians. And Corinthians. And then I saw.
Then I remembered Susanna. And I knew.
I was always fascinated by astronomy. I have always understood from a very young age the distance between the stars. I was about four and certainly no older than six when I first understood what a light year was. And how far galaxies are from one another. Well, in that moment, in my bedroom at night, alone, in London, in that apartment on the Thames, the second one, not the nicer first one, after reading Ephasians, I sat there and realised how far I was from the truth of love.
That one person I had sought since I was sixteen, consciously, and then just as she became a blur of faces and bodies and orgasms.
My way of being, who I was, was so far from a man that could experience that kind of love, the real one, the one we all want and seek deep down, that I felt the distance between galaxies was short and nearby. I felt as if I was at the outer reaches of the know Universe and moving in the wrong direction anyway, the inertia and momentum of the Big Bang, making it so, regardless of my desire or even intent.
I knew then that at 43 or 44 years of age, either 10 or 11 years ago now, I forget the year but I suspect it was 2013, that I would never know that love I had unknowingly been looking for all my adult life. It simply was not possible for me. I was too far. Too far gone, too much seen and felt and experienced. There weren’t even any other humans out there, much less a woman that could or would love me that way or that I could love her that way, and she be able to experience it. It just was not a thing that could exist. I wasn’t bitter or angry or even very sad about it. A little lonely maybe, but not desperate or torn. Like an animal in a field. A dog alone somewhere with no owner and no pack. Like any animal alone. They feel a kind of something akin to mild sadness, the knowledge they are alone, but there is no sense of self-pity or tragedy. Just like getting wet in the rain. It just is.
And so I knew.
And I had seen and felt God by then, as much as any human being can without bursting into flames anyway, I guess. So I knew it was real and just how it was. And I carried on. I still had to work, and eat, and live, and yes, to fuck too. I carried on seeing women, but far less frequently and there were almost no one night stands any more. Not intentionally anyway. And I tried to put up with their nonsense calmly, because I could see now, who was I to judge them and their ways, after all? Me the voyager at the edge of the Universe. How much closer in their idiotic and irritating ways were they anyway compared to me, to a semblance of truth?
And I could not feel too much, anyway. Which paradoxically meant I spent more time with those women who are most damaged and irreparable. Their own errors of perception and life making them also… voyagers. Not as far lost as me, for they at least were ignorant of their condition. They may have not been all that far from the truth of love as I was, but their blindness meant they could not see the distance anyway. Nor could I explain it to them or even open their eyes. I could, at most, stay near them as best I could, if I could. It was another kind of loneliness. One I felt more than being simply alone by myself. The one woman I ended up spending the most time with in that twilight zone of the senses I was in for some years, was so damaged and hurt and broken, that I think there is a genuine possibility that she was at least partially possessed. She certainly exhibited aspects of it anyway. And whatever it was, emotional instability, or partial demonic influence, despite it, on some level, I did connect with her. It was fractured and partial and unhealthy probably, but on some level I did care for her, or I tried to anyway. Then I had a year in Venice. She came to visit a couple of times, but mostly I was alone and working, and I knew Venice would heal me in the most painful way possible, because that city is so beautiful it hurts. And to be there alone, walk its calles late at night, be alone in that splendour in spring and summer, and the mystic fog of autumn and winter, Christmas and New year alone, and my birthday and the ones of friends and family all far from me… it purifies your heart with beauty and calm.
And I started talking, messaging really, with a girl I had met almost a decade earlier. And just writing to each other on telegram. Sharing our lives and some things that happened in them. And so on.
The story with that possibly possessed woman ended badly. As I knew it probably would. And my work with the people that had me transfer to Venice ended in a similar fashion when I exposed to the owner that his managers were taking kickbacks.
In the films the guy who does that is the hero and wins, right? Well. I knew better, because I’d been in that position before, just not at the money I was getting paid this time. But money is just money. I like to have a clean shaven face mostly, and that requires looking in a mirror in the morning. I could have kept quiet and file false reports and would have had at least 100k stashed away which sure would be helpful now, and I don’t and I didn’t. So I kept my personal sense of honour (which I stress is only mine and may not even look remotely good to anyone else, but it is mine, and it works for me) and lost the money and the job. I moved back to London and then, that girl I had been talking to… well… we talked some more. In person. We went for dinner. We kissed. And then, one day, she just moved in. And yes, now we have 5 children between us, and yes I am no longer alone on the outer reaches of the Universe, but the whole impossible journey does not make any sense if you try to look at it with normal, human eyes. But that is where we all start from.
So I wrote Caveman Theory, to take the journey in the other way. Not after a fall, that like with Saul, blinded him for four days and then showed him God and made him a zealot that wrote half the New Testament as Paul.
That book I already wrote, and that’s BELIEVE!, and then I followed it with my attempt at doing a Thomas Aquinas, and laying out the case for the Catholic Church, and how to reclaim it in detail. And it is no wonder that both my books are both much smaller than the works produced by people they aspired to emulate (unconsciously until this very moment, and only in the dimmest sense, to form an analogy). I am no Paul, nor a Thomas Aquinas, but nevertheless those are the equivalent products insofar as my mind is able to emulate them.
Caveman Theory is the journey of the man who lives in the world and is of it and cares not for religion or God. All he knows are his senses and his untamed heart. And women (or men, if you are a woman). And if you are still a little bit human inside, however deeply buried, then, the thing you want, on some level, is to find that One.
And you may be blind. You may remain blind. But even so, in some way, even the wrong paths can lead to Rome. Honesty at least with yourself is a must, but perhaps, through your pursuit of love, in all the wrong places, through, lust, and emotion, and pain, heartache and sex, if you at least stay honest with yourself, and read the concepts in Caveman Theory, you will gently begin to see more and maybe your eyes will open when you see that ultimately, even with no God at all, with zero preaching on my side, just with the practical and the factual human truth before you, when it is stripped of all the lies, you will see a Truth that is larger than the mere whole. At least, that is my hope. And if not, well, then at least you’re still more likely to find a lasting relationship with the concepts in it than not.
Good luck soldier, or madam, as the case may be.
I hope my efforts are a help to you, it is, truly, the only reason I write anything, other than a small amount also for personal amusement (my last book In the Shadow of Monte Castello was mostly all just fun for me, but even then, a little of it was done for others too, even if less so than in any other book I have yet written so far).
But regardless of whether you ever buy a single one of my books or not, I sincerely hope you find your true Way. Your path. And that means the right people to share it with. And as far as I can tell, God intended for us to not be alone, so that means also that you find the right wife or husband for you, and are able to recognise her or him when you meet them, and not waste time in between.
See the immediately previous post below this one, before reading this one. They are linked and you really need to see that one first.
The image below has been blurred for obvious privacy reasons, nevertheless I asked the two ladies in it beside my wife if it was ok to use and they both immediately enthusiastically said yes.
These are three catholic women with their children.
3 women, 15 children.
This, ladies, is what a strong, powerful, heroic woman looks like.
There isn’t one of the women in the picture who has a husband that wouldn’t take a bullet for them. Or that doesn’t appreciate the daily sacrifices they make and love them all the more for it.
I’m not one to “gush” or pedastalise women, as any reader of this blog will know, but neither am I the supposed “misogynist” some toothless overweight shrews might try to label me as.
The truth is that when I saw this picture, shortly after it was taken, it encapsulated for me everything that life is really about. The kids all played awesomely together, and the two women beside my wife are awesome people. The fact that between three of them they have made 15 children is nothing short of heroic, as far as I am concerned.
One of the mums said, “Nah, not heroes.”
I reminded her, as I will any man reading, that as far as I know, there isn’t a man alive that would consider giving birth ONCE not being heroic. Meeting a woman that has given birth to five or more children, as far as men are concerned, trust me, is the equivalent of talking to a Victoria Cross recipient.
Anyway, try and argue against that, Feminists. And… what’s that? Oh, wait, we can’t hear you over the laughter of our children, and the silence of your non-existent progeny, as ours go on to re-populate the Earth after the depopulation attempts of those who fooled you to begin with.
I will be doing a livestream with Tony who was a beta reader for Caveman Theory tonight in about three hours at 21:30 Rome Italy Time on my Youtube channel here.
There will be also a generic Q&A on it so you can ask questions and as the topic is one I get a steady stream of email on, if there is enough interest and say at least 20 subscribers that have ideally read the book, I will to subscribers only livestreams where specific questions get answered.
For the braver we can maybe even do short interviews either to share their positive experience of using the Caveman Theory concepts or the issues they are having in their relationships.
Yes… terrible as it may sound, we may be straying into Kurgan as agony uncle territory!
If that doesn’t deserve a Horror Film/Law and Order style Dun, Dun, DUN! I don’t know what does!
A rather long and mostly retard-filled thread on SG about the FSSH prompted an equally long and almost as fruitless conversation with an actual autist, that nevertheless made a few things clear to me concerning why people seemed a bit confused or autistically stuck on some point I specifically stated could not and would not form part of the FSSH because… I didn’t include it.
Once again, I think a giant statue to Professor Cipolla needs to be built. Him and Tesla may have been the greatest men the world has produced; but leaving that aside for the moment, let me try and make things even clearer for the autists out there, and those challenged by lack of reading comprehension, or logic capability, or abstract thought… oh you get it, the vast numbers of NPCs.
So my original (rather long in a vain attempt at clarity, where I now realise less is probably more) is here, for reference, but in any case, the FSSH is encapsulated in TL;DR at the end.
Let me start by explaining, as simply as I can, and using short words, what the FSSH is NOT.
It is NOT A static list of “types” of what women are like —and likely to behave as— most of the time, with a rank that is at least partially based on the number of sexual partners she has had.
That is what Vox’s Male SSH is. He has a nice list of “types” and in the original he also had, linked to each one, a somewhat less relevant statistic that was based on a multiple of the number of lifetime sexual partners that each type had compared to the “average” man (which number is around 10, globally, in case you were wondering). I say this was a somewhat less relevant statistic because, firstly the math was a bit off, at least by my experiential reckoning, and also global averages. His numbers would tend to skew the various sizes of population types in a direction that observable reality does not support very well, but, that could be a locality factor. Maybe he was reflecting mostly American numbers and I was referencing lived experience in other countries around the world and/or global numbers. So howsoever much it may be off by (between 10-50% by my global estimation, and even worse if you include the “Lambdas” into the equation) mathematically, it remains relatively irrelevant, more of an indicator than a hard number, which is fine. But that aside, for me that statistic was mostly irrelevant because… well… to be blunt, like a fish doesn’t worry about how much water he has around him, I wasn’t short of female company. My specific circumstances aside though, most men, latched on to that number as if their very existence in the Universe depended on it. Which is understandable, if a little sad, and in any case, Alpha Game was also to some extent or other part of the zeitgeist created by PUAs at the time, and the overwhelmingly “important” point for men was (has always been?) the number of women they can have sex with. So men naturally understand and appreciate such a list with statistics attached. So let me say it again:
The FSSH is NOT:
A static (almost completely so) list of behavioural traits attributable to a specific “class” of female.
Related (for the most part) to the number of sexual partners she had, or will have.
In short it is NOT a parallel to the Male SSH Vox came up with. And in fairness, my naming my predictive methodology as the Female Socio-Sexual Hierarchy is somewhat badly named. The point was mostly to have people understand that there is a way to predict female behaviour that is at least analogous to the Male SSH, in the sense that it can be used to PREDICT female behaviour before it happens, which is useful and in that respect does parallel the Male SSH quite well, but not in METHODOLOGY, only in predictive ability (which remains lower than the Male SSH predictability, but is still a VAST improvement over the general floundering of the average male when it comes to reliably predicting female behaviour).
It has proven helpful to compare the MSSH with the FSSH for men to begin to understand how to use my model, though, in my defence, I really thought I explained all this quite clearly in my original post, but… the unwashed masses have made it clear that my model is a lot more useful for them once they understand the difference from the MSSH better, so… I bow to the masses.
The MSSH describes a mostly static type of behaviour and relates it to the ability/prowess of each type to have sexual relations with women.
Most men get caught in the idea of “what they should be like to get more sex” and then obsess about wanting/needing or fooling themselves that they are or should be, or will be, an Alpha or a Sigma and star in their own James Bond themed all-female (except for them) orgy. Which frankly, is mostly pointless.
Predictability is the Point!
The usefulness of the MSSH, at least as far as I am concerned, has always been it’s rather detailed and quite accurate ability to predict the behaviour of men, based on the type or class or category they fall into. Alphas will behave in ways that a Gamma simply does not understand and can’t replicate, and when he tries to usually end in sexual assault charges being levied against them.
The usefulness of my FSSH is its ability to predict how pretty much almost ANY woman will behave in pretty much almost ANY setting. So in that sense it is analogous to the MSSH, but the methodology used is of a completely different nature, and if you need another analogy, the MSSH might be like doing trigonometry. Once you have figured out the angles and variables, you can locate the needed points and they are stable and predictable.
The FSSH is like doing calculus on the fly to discover the volume or area of a constantly changing shape. It is far more dynamic, requires more intelligence and observation, and women don’t have “classes” as such other than in the broadest sense, because their “rank” best described as a pecking order really, is fluid and dependant on context from minute to minute.
A Male’s rank, once established tends to broadly apply to many aspects of his life.
A Female’s rank on the other hand is mostly contextual and changes with time and place and group one is in, to an extent that is orders of magnitude faster and more dynamic than any male counterpart.
So perhaps I should not call it a Female Socio-Sexual Hierarchy, but rather, the Kurgan’s Magic Orb of Predicting Female Activity Before it Happens.
You’ll agree that it is a tad less elegant a name though.
How Does the Magic Orb Work?
Let me try and simply list the operating mechanisms of this method and then I will break them down in turn.
You can predict a woman’s behaviour and rank (which rank is almost always temporary or specific to location, timeline, and composition of other people present at any given time) by being aware of:
The situation itself.
The relative 1-10 attractiveness of each woman in the interaction.
The fact women process the world mostly according to their emotions and most important of all:
Women are essentially solipsistic to the point of their believing the universe is there to please them!
So let’s first explain what is meant by rank in the FSSH
Rank Explained
Rank for men is mostly static. Which is why all civilisations, since the dawn of time, have been, and will continue to be built, by men. Stability in rank is absolutely required for anything involving military action (defence of the tribe) construction projects beyond the individualistic (the workers need to work, the planner to plan, the store keepers to guard the material, the managers to direct work more efficiently, and so on), the application of anything resembling justice (consistency in laws regardless of emotions, applicability to all equally (as much as possible)) and so on.
Women’s rank is temporal and specific to the event, time, place and people present at any give time. This is why they are essentially incapable of building a huge bridge, or a skyscraper, or design a rocketship. Their hierarchy of rank is constantly changing and in an ebb and flow that can mutate severely in minutes at times, and certainly is never stable enough to achieve anything on a scale that goes beyond the immediate, individualistic, or at most family orientated (yes, yes, you screaming harpies, one woman in ten million or so might be the exception, blah, blah, we don’t care, pay attention!).
So what is meant by ‘Rank” for the FSSH? It means the woman in any given group, at any given time, that is in pole position for getting what she wants. And that’s it. Because remember point number 4, the most important one of the FSSH: Women are solipsistic, so everything and everyone, is all about her or relates to her or is going to.
While male rank is generally an indication of not just what he specifically wants to achieve, but rather of how his actions are perceived by other men, not just in relation to themselves alone, but in relation to all sorts of things, from his ideas on leadership, politics, industry, or his physical and mental achievements in various fields, or even his ability to influence events and people.
Female rank, instead, is based on being the one that gets the most, of what she wants the most, at any given time, without looking like a greedy monkey snatching at peanuts more than is absolutely necessary, because a naked display of goldigging or its equivalent, is one of the few things that can alter her overall generic “rank” that is hard to overcome, especially among other females (and eventually, most non-sex-starved men too). It can be a fine balance, so it is naturally more dynamic, because the conditions under which many of the variables play out is almost always dependant on the situation at hand and the participants involved. So, at any given situation, a female’s rank is determined by the other women in the group as being higher for whoever is the woman that gets most of what she wants most. If that is male attention in one context, then it is that, if it is the respect of her church group, then it is that, and so on.
The ability to predict what actions or tactics a specific woman will use in any given situation depends on your ability to observe and evaluate the points I explained above, which in turn are:
Reading the Situation
In any given context where women are involved, you can generally make a good guess at what her primary aim is by observing her behaviour while keeping in mind these three factors:
Her brain works predominantly based on her emotions (in general terms overall, and in the situation specifically) keeping in mind that stronger emotions overwhelm any tenuous grasp on logic, rationality or common sense she may have, but these emotions are not completely chaotic and wildly unpredictable, they are regulated by two other factors, which are:
Her attractiveness, which you can use the standard scale of 1 to 10 for, and even more importantly,
her solipsism. So let’s understand these two factors in the context of her emotions, remember.
2. Her attractiveness would seem to most people to be relevant only in relation to men, and there is some truth to that, but the reality is that women notice each other’s attractiveness and compete with it to spectacular levels even if these are mostly hidden from obvious displays of naked envy. The result is that a woman’s physical attractiveness is an intrinsic part of her own self-identity and it sets a number of parameters for her that are for the most part static. But it is also viewed in this way by other women (and men) so it is both an internal as well as an external reality that they can do little to change but can “weaponise” in various ways when required to get what they want. An obese woman with poor clothing choices, is automatically ranked lower than a sexy one dressed well in almost every setting, but, if the setting is one that specifically has negative connotations with sexiness (a dignified or puritanical church, the funeral of a close relative, grandma’s 95th Birthday, and so on) then the attractiveness, especially if accentuated by actual sexiness in behaviour or clothing choices can be a temporary negative score in that situation, and the matronly and obese woman, with kindness, plentiful food for the grieving family members and effective support for the afflicted, becomes the “star” in that specific context and outranks even the supermodel with the miniskirt. And all other women present would notice and act accordingly. They may still resent the attractive supermodel even if she is dressed appropriately and behaves well, in fact, more so the obese woman, because then, even in this context, the hottie wins again, since she is not only beautiful and appropriately dressed, but she also acts kindly and supportively in a practical way). Generally speaking then, almost always (but not actually always) the physical attractiveness of a woman is about the only statistic you can count on as being mostly somewhat static with relation to her rank in any given situation or group. it forms part of the total weight that is most reliable anyway. Her baseline staring level if you prefer.
3. He solipsism is how she will mix her attractiveness, emotions and wished for outcome that makes her behaviour predictable. Gauging the degree of solipsisms takes some observation, but usually not necessarily long periods of it. One can fairly quickly establish how much or in which aspect a woman’s solipsism is most evident. Does she want to be the centre of attention by her looks, her supposed relevance to the situation or topic at hand, or some other metric? Is she the only doctor in the room and that matters to her? Is she the best skier at the mountain lodge, or just the prettiest? Or sluttiest? etcetera. And the other aspect of it is, what matters to her in this context and situation? Does she want to get the attention of all the good looking men? Of just that ONE man? Or detract the attention a rival is getting from others (on some level ALL other women are rivals, regardless of if it makes any sense or not)? In short, what is she after the most in the context. Does she want to appear to be the most interesting, or kind, or whatever it is? If you can figure that out, which a few minutes of observation in a social setting should do it, you can then begin to understand how the circumstances may affect her emotions and based on the level and direction of solipsism, be able to predict how those emotions and her brand of solipsism, in THAT specific situation, is likely to play out.
As I said, this can take a little practice and requires the ability to NOT be solipsistic yourself, because you literally have to observe another person and how they interact with the world to begin to notice certain intrinsic traits they have as well as how they get affected by the specifics of the ongoing situation.
It is easier to do in groups than one on one. Especially if you are very attracted to the woman in question. Sometimes, the misreading of a woman’s solipsism by a man, because her attractiveness confuses his calibration of it, can border on the comical. When one is in a group, it is far easier to detach somewhat and note the dynamics.
One on One at the Start can be Deceptive
I will provide a somewhat less than flattering example to make the point. There was a time when I briefly met a very attractive woman that turned out to be a stripper. I had met her in a large gathering of people and she was literally supermodel pretty without the anorexia. She was also well-read and witty and definitely above average intelligence. Seeing her in a group also made it obvious she was not only absolutely aware of her looks, but was almost annoyed at them and the reaction it had on pretty much any man with line of sight. She had no interest in any of the attempts men made to make a connection with her, however subtle, and it was clear that any attempt at direct flirtation would go nowhere. So, I stopped thinking about her that way and simply interacted with her and her friend as if they were male colleagues at a seminar or something. She then tentatively brought up rather odd topics that I was actually knowledgeable of and I responded and as a result we made a connection which meant that from then on, we very occasionally remained in touch, I saw her, always in company of other people a couple of times and whatever she was going through in life, I noticed that although she seemed still uninterested in men in general, she did act genuinely friendly towards me. Then time passed and I forgot about her and then one day out of the blue she got in touch and asked me to meet her and made it quite clear she was thinking about us getting together, yet, when we did meet up, her tendency to be stand-offish was again in full effect. Polite and friendly, but certainly not open to the usual flirting I would otherwise have engaged in, which has always been fairly direct in my case. And at this point I was really not often confused by a woman, but her behaviour seemed a little bizarre. By text she made clear references to us becoming a couple, but in person she was far from approachable.
Me being the shy wallflower type I am, I think lasted about one coffee before I told her something along the lines of, well, ok, so let’s find out, at which point she did explain certain things in her life that gave me pause. I am not going to explain here what those things were, because it’s not relevant, but at least I understood that she had valid reasons for not wanting to just end up in bed without knowing about certain other parameters. And they were serious enough that despite her looks and even the possible imagining of living to old age in blissful harmony with her, they made me realise that thinking with any kind of little head here was not going to be worth it. So we went out a couple more times with a view to getting to know each other beyond the physical, which it was clear we both were happy it ticked whatever boxes we might want ticked in that department. We spoke directly and quite brutally, if kindly about ourselves, our lives and expectations and the situations we had, and I came to the conclusion that if she was willing to chance it, I would too, and I told her as much. We finished dinner and I walked her to her car and told her I wanted to kiss her. She smiled and walked on until her car, then she stopped and stood near me waiting, and we kissed. Then she got in her car and left.
Good result right? Great. And then the next time we met she acted like we were just friends again and I was again confused and thought, okay maybe she changed her mind, whatever. But then she called again and asked to see me again, and when we met up she was kind of enthusiastic, but I just gave her a peck on the cheek, which was the usual way we greeted, and not a kiss and she kind of froze. And I realised in that instant she’d wanted to be kissed, and I had not. And this was absolutely due to my having been unable to properly read her solipsism. From her perspective, her having been a stripper made her a kind of slut, and in her mind, the last thing she wanted was a guy that was with her purely because of her body and supposed “sluttiness”, because she literally was surrounded by guys like that for years, salivating at her while they threw money at her like a pack of drooling morons. And that makes perfect sense, in retrospect, which I realised only in that moment of the missed kiss. But for me, her having been a stripper posed precisely zero issues. I had observed her enough to know that yes, of course she was very beautiful, and I could even make a very well-educated guess at the fact that I am sure she was good in bed too, but more importantly, by having spent that time with her, I liked her general sense of values and intelligence. And if you think “what values?!? She’s almost a common whore!” I’ll have you know that aside from the fact that back then I really had no concern regarding a woman’s sexual past, aside her being healthy that is, strippers are not quite as sexually promiscuous as most men think, and common whores are still generally far more moral, reliable, and trustworthy human beings than anyone that works in finance, journalism, the media, or entertainment.
The point is that by not wanting to appear slutty, she had made some assumptions about me initially and when she realised I was, yes a man (so attracted to her), but also able to curb my basest instincts and act according to some higher principles, and in doing so reached out a bit towards me, I was still thinking she was in another space and rejected her. Mild as that rejection-interaction might seem, and easy to correct, I realised that she was quite a different person to what had been presented until then. We met up once more and we both realised that while we were attracted, and that attraction would certainly go a long way to keeping us together for a time, the intrinsic way in which we were internally would eventually clash. She explained it best in words, which I did not have, just a sense of it, that yes, we would love each other, but we would also end up wanting to kill each other, and neither of us was likely to bend, so something would break.
So, from the point of view of “wanting to get with the girl” sexually, you could say I failed, and I would be dishonest if I said that at the time I did not wonder what it would have felt like, not just for me, but for her too, if we had gotten together sexually, but I also know that the end-result would not have led anywhere good, whether it was after a week or a year.
The reality was that her internal world, her specific brand of solipsism if you like, was extremely stark. Almost pure black and white, which presents superficially as almost the perfect woman, direct, able to articulate herself well and intelligently, and with humour. Simple, direct and entertaining, what more could a guy want, right?
But, for whatever reason, perhaps the reactions she got from men all her life, she was also absolutely convinced that ultimately she knew the Way, or a Way anyway, without compromise or “give” in it. And that, to me, is the certain death-knell of a relationship between a man and woman. Or really anyone and anyone. And I had spent hours with her in polite one on one company, and totally missed this aspect of her until that moment.
Had I seen that specific type of Solipsism as she had it to begin with, I would likely not even have felt the attraction. But the attraction tends to blind men, easily and often. Which is why you need to be aware of her attractiveness, on the scale of 1 to 10, and consider it when observing her to figure out her specific solipsism and what it mostly shows up as. In what ways does it manifest? Because if she is a 7 and you are very familiar with women in general and you are also a 7 or even an 8, there will be little this woman can do to surprise you. If however, she is a 9.8 and you’re a 7, it is likely that the light blinds you, and like ea moth to a flame, you will keep going closer and closer to her, until you burn like a rat soaked in petrol and shot at with tracers.
Conclusions
Hopefully this explains how to use the FSSH to predict their behaviour, but there are a few points that the autists among you may want even further clarification on:
No there is not a “class” for women – I mean there are some broad general descriptors, but if we use the RPG analogy, these are more like ethnicities rather than classes. A woman may be an orc, or an elf, in general terms, but not an orc archer with thief abilities. So for example a woman might be more generally considered in terms of her overall looks, (beautiful or gargoyle-like) sexual availability (slutty) or lack thereof, (puritanical) but there isn’t an “Alpha” woman or an “Omega” woman other than in extremely broad categories. This is also tied to their sexual “score”, because unlike men, woman do not struggle to get sex. Even paraplegics of low quality looks, if female, can get regular sex (if not perhaps lasting love and affection), so as a metric for measuring rank among women it is functionally useless.
Body Count counts only for men – The number of lifetime sexual partners a woman has, or will have, informs what “class” she is almost not at all for women, and is “curated” by women, mostly for the benefit of men. Whether she had 2 men or 2,000 other women will tend to “chastise” or “weaponise” this information, not because they intrinsically care about the other woman’s proclivities in that regard (remember women only pretty much care about themselves and what affects them, after all) but because weaponising, in either direction by the way, serves some ulterior purpose of increasing her own rank. Sluts can be shamed for being sluts today, and virgins for being virgins tomorrow, as the situation demands. Women don’t actually care what another woman’s body count is other than in relation to how it can make her look in comparison with the other woman. Men tend to care about body count though, so women will pretend to (sometimes even convincing themselves that they do care) for the sake of men. If you have ever been present, like a fly on the wall, or in a room full of women that for whatever reason you are in no way perceived as being either available or worth competing for their attentions for, you will know what I mean. Whether in a coma or because you’re their pimp, any group of women that speaks with each other openly, will make you instantly aware that all their shyness and timid behaviour is as real as their make up and silicone implants. The reality is that other than contextually (which is nowhere near as many times as you’re likely to think) the number of lifetime partners doesn’t really feature in the FSSH as far as the majority of women are concerned. As such, it cannot be a feature by which one measures the rank or pecking order of a female with anything like the same level of authority that one can do with the MSSH.
A Woman’s SSH Can change both in the wider general sense as well as in the specific moment with far greater ease than any male SSH – It is far easier for a woman to go from being a nymphomaniac that does pornography, (General SSH: She is a porn actress) to a married housewife that has children (She’s a housewife that has children now, she used to do porn) and is accepted by the community she lives in (Oh leave her alone! She was a whore in another life! Look, she is a devoted mother! And she has more money than us, why don’t you get a better job, anyway, loser!), than it is for a man to go from an Omega to an Alpha (already mostly impossible, but even if it were…) and do so (the community itself would try to keep this guy down. Damn creeper, who does he think he is all of a sudden?)
The sexy girl on the arm of the boss at the Christmas party can suddenly drop from being THE one the middle managers’ wives want to befriend, to one they will shun like the plague if it turns out she is an escort for hire for the evening. While the boss himself, if he is a brash Alpha, will remain pretty much the guy all the guys want to chum up to, regardless of if the hottie on his arm is his wife of two decades, or an escort from the local fetish themed escort agency paid by the hour.
In short, the magic orb has constant moving parts – While the Male SSH is mostly fixed and reliable, the Female SSH is only “fixed” in the most general of terms, such as:
The Whore
The Slut (not quite the same as the Whore)
The Gold Digger (also not the same as either of the two above)
The Nag
The Nun
The Grandma
The Housewife
The Shrew
The Feminist
The Career Woman (almost interchangeable with the shrew or feminist)
The Lesbian
The Bisexual (almost interchangeable with the slut)
…and on and on and on. If you notice, many of the somewhat ephemeral “categories” are pejoratives and often with a sexual component to it, that is because most of these categories are produced by women, as labels to attach to other women.
The Final Point
The ultimate point of the Female SSH is to evaluate the ever-fluid “rank” or pecking order of a woman at a given time, place and context, when compared to the other women in the group.
It is not used to append a perennial label to a woman with regard to what “class” she may be, but simply so as to be able to predict her behaviour, which is usually (but not always) imminent, and thus anticipate your next move with respect to whatever she is about to begin doing.
Trying to use it for much of anything beyond that is almost certainly futile.
Good luck, and I hope I have now explained this topic ad nauseam for everyone.
UPDATE: A female reader of Vox’s site added a rather insightful explanation of the FSSH. It verifies my own explanation above in pretty much every respect but I think does a better job of explaining it from a bird’s eye view. My comment on it was thus:
I would say that this is generally a good take and the concept of wheel and hub are what I termed the “generic” status or “type” that is rather tenuous when compared to the male hierarchy. I would also add that while the writer is clearly more self-aware than the average woman by… a LOT, most of the behaviour she describes, insofar as it fits observable reality, is done by women mostly unconsciously, similarly to how men too for the most part, fall into their hierarchy structures by instinct.
I found it interesting that she also indirectly confirmed that the attractiveness scale, which I mention explicitly in my model, is a factor, as well as the point that amongst themselves women could not care less about body-count or the perception of them men have. They only care about it insofar as it affects them directly. The writer mentions the need to protect the wheel, and that is true, but that need is driven primarily by the fact that if the wheel suffers, so does the individual woman within it. If she did not suffer, she would not really care either, and if it would propel her into a new wheel that is higher up the social ladder and that includes more resources, or even makes her the hub of a more prosperous wheel, she will do it in a heartbeat and all her previous “good friends” will become overtaken acquaintances.
So while the writer makes some very good points and a valid argument for the “positive” aspects of female solipsism, do not be fooled into thinking that it lacks the usual scorpion sting in the tail if and when a woman feels the need to do so. And more often than you’d like, that use of the poisonous tail is very much along the lines of the story of the frog and the scorpion. Which is why I say that women really need to begin to learn to evolve themselves consciously, as they have quite a bit of catching up to do in that respect when compared to men.
And the Incidendal Drawing and Quartering of Rollo Tommasi.
Adam has recently posted a couple of somewhat interesting articles that consider the prospect of sex before marriage, fornication, and the PUA mindset in general.
The key message I personally see as most relevant in the first one is the partial quote that derives from the reading of Goldwin Smith (a 19th Century historian) by the author of the piece Adam links to, JM Smith, which he however presents only in part, and I think deserves a fuller version of it:
He [Goldwin Smith] was appalled by the prospect of women’s suffrage, correctly foreseeing that it would make democratic politics even more emotional, and that Anglo Saxon men would be to soft, silly and spineless to stop it. He explained this as the dolorous result of gynæmania, a “disease” of the Anglo Saxon male that was characterized by a morbidly excessive craving for the good opinion of women. The word gynæmania was first coined as a scientific name for satyriasis, or a morbidly excessive craving for carnal knowledge of women, but Smith saw that slavery to sex was becoming slavery to the female sex.
The emphasis on Anglo-Saxon is mine, and I maintain it remains the key point of the article, as it was indeed in the post by JM Smith, and indeed Golden Smith’s original work, even if Adam did not seem to focus on it particularly. So keep this point about the Anglos in mind for later, we shall return to it.
The second article can be summed up as a strong and unequivocal advice —almost an order, really— to men, to not indulge in sex before marriage; and he takes a post by Rollo Tommasi as his jumping off point. Tommasi is somewhat “revered” in PUA circles as being one of the grandfathers of the PUA movement. Personally, though I have weird hobbies, and looking at PUAs and their thirst for raping incels’ wallets was one of many such entertainments, I have never found Tommasi to be especially insightful of much of anything. And the article Adam links to is definitely of the stupidly degenerate category, although my take on things is considerably different from Adam’s in many respects.
Rollo’s post is a car-crash of bullshit and lies and simply illogical nonsense and deserves a point by point take-down even just on its own (non-existent) supposed merits. And… because… you know how I said I have weird hobbies? And typing doesn’t hurt me, I’m going to do just that right here below, between the fancy page breaks. If you don’t care (which is absolutely fine), or if you can’t hold a key point in your mind for more than 3 minutes, or are particularly pious and find vulgarity distatesful, then avert your eyes and skip the Rollo Tommasi take-down below, and scroll to the second fancy page break.
The key points by the way, so far are:
Anglos are weird about caring about what women think of them, and,
Rollo is full of shit. The detailed takedown below is for those not experienced/logical/clear-headed enough to see why Rollo is full of shit, and I am here to help! [insert sociopath smile here].
Rollo in fog-fart grey background your friendly host in standard text.
Rollo, do you think “Body Count” matters?
Absolutely. And the higher, the better. I need a girl who’s DTF (down to fuck) from the jump. For guys after 50, all that pretentious bullshit about long-term commitment should melt away to sexual expediency. It’s not about experience or some contrived want for a virgin bride. It all comes down to guys who fuck and guys who don’t. If we’re talking from the perspective of evolutionary effectiveness, women (and men) with higher body counts are effectively proven commodities in a sexual economy.
The sexually unfulfilled and deprived Rollo tells us several things right in the first paragraph:
He is over 50 and not married or settled down, still chasing the ever elusive “high” of some sex with a random “hottie” (but at over 50 I am fairly sure he’ll take whatever bone is thrown at him).
He in fact has given up on being “pair-bonded” as the PUAs call it, to one woman. He tries to cover it up with absolutely false bravado and machismo, but it is painfully obvious he is in pain from this. Whether his pain is always conscious or not is not clear yet, self-deception in people like Rollo is over 9,000 and also eleventy.
UPDATE: I stand corrected! He’s been married since he was 28, which means I was completely correct about his being a fraud with regard to his “experience” with bedding women, it’s literally all made up theory. And since I did not “correct” any of the subsequent points after this point, you can verify immediately that I really did not know anything about this guy besides read maybe 10 lines of his stuff over the last decade and concluding he was irrelevant, and secondly, that my dissection of his nonsense post is spot on, despite this.
He talks absolute nonsense with regard to “evolutionary effectiveness” because banging as many random women as possible, or, for a woman, even worse, as many guys as possible, throughout human history was only a recipe for absolute disaster and death, and the end of your genetic line. Staying together, regardless of the difficulties, and ensuring the survival of your plentiful children was the only successful strategy, and it still is. The obvious idiocy of his thinly veiled self-justification/rationalisation is clear to anyone with a functioning neurone or two.
“Oh, oh! but you say he is sexually unfulfilled and deprived, when he clearly has (or had) sex with a lot of women, you’re just bitter!”
No, young Padawan, pay attention now:
Firstly: PUAs LIE. And Lie spectacularly about their “body count” trust me on this, I looked into the subspecies of “male” that labels themselves as PUAs in some depth. Feel free to use the Search Me button on the right there. (heh… in light of my not bothering to research Rollo at all and then it turns out he was married the whole time he pretended to be a “player” this is kind of hilarious.)
Secondly: Let’s in any case ass-u-me Rollo does indeed still have regular sex with random hotties every week. Even if that were the case, considering by his own supposed “reality” he has been doing that for 30 years or so, you have to wonder… what can he possibly still be chasing? As regular readers of this blog will know, I am no stranger to the female form myself, and went through a lot of women in a short period of time after I gave up essentially on long-term relationships. And after a few years of it, I tell you, I was essentially bored of it. And no, I am not a guy with low T or lack of energy or any difficulty in securing a regular flow of pretty, usually above average intelligence, women to my bed. I assure you, my pointing this out comes from having lived that way and not any kind of misplaced envy, lack of understanding, or inexperience at the “thrill” of a new woman under me. The fact is that only a man that has yet to fill the hole in his soul can continue to behave this way, in the erroneous belief that if he just beds enough women, somehow, at some point, he will feel fulfilled. Don’t get me wrong, there is some truth to the fact that if you become able to essentially pick up women for sex almost at will, it does give you a certain… I am not even sure what to call it, but I guess… level of general life confidence would be it. But in reality it has little to do with how many women you take to bed and more with your attitude when with a woman. There are men that have this sense of confidence innate to them and only marry and stay with one woman for their entire lives, and there are men that may go through some women to realise they have it already. It’s a little like martial arts. There are guys who never take a class but in a certain circumstance will not hesitate to fight back, and there are guys who need to go training for a while to feel strong in their sense of justice, or whatever. The reality is that a man who forever chases sex with an ever growing number of women, is simply a malformed man. He is not, I assure you a self-actualised man, to borrow a Maslowian term. He is like the perennial teenager, still trying to be “cool” at 70. Or if you prefer, he’s like the Boomers, who keep insisting 80 is the new 40, or whatever. And that is no way for a grown man to be.
Third: Remember that point about the Anglos being far more desperate in general for female approval than say, well, your average dago, spic, South American, Greek… oh look… it’s a divide between Protestant and Catholic or Orthodox religions… again. Things that make you go hmmmm, eh?
Are you starting to understand what I mean by deprived and unfulfilled yet? (It seems clear he wishes he was a “player” which he clearly is not, and never was so…)
Guys who don’t fuck spend lifetimes consoling themselves with moral high-ground narratives to explain why they don’t fuck. At least 80% of guys don’t fuck, so there’s a lot of narrative inbreeding and self-congratulatory bullshit passed around among them. This bullshit has been de rigueur for millennia, but in the social media age, it’s an obvious cope. We’re just more aware of it now.
Of course, the best narratives are the ones that make guys who don’t fuck feel good about not fucking while simultaneously making guys who do fuck feel bad about fucking. This disqualification tactic is one of the many forms of bloodless intrasexual competition tactics that 80%er men have consoled themselves with since the Middle Ages. If you can make your intrasexual rival feel guilty about fucking – because God hates fucking for any reason besides making babies – then you have a tactical advantage in the sexual economy. It works even better if you can gaslight a superior sexual rival to believe he (or she) is going to Hell if he pursues his biological imperative to his fullest potential.
Good God. Talk about gaslighting. If you take him at his word, Rollo is saying that fucking, just that, fucking, not procreating, not making children, just fucking, as many women as possible, is what makes life worthwhile. I have met men like this. Several PUAs are like this, and let me tell you, they are absolutely pathetic. They are a kind of Gollum about pussy in general. My Preciousssss they say, obsessed, salivating, masturbating furiously, whether alone or inside someone else, and that is all that their lives revolve around.
He also further blurts out obvious absolute lies, imputing 80% of men in the Middle Ages did this thing: which was about telling you that way to live (that he thinks is the epitome of existence) is a shallow, discivilisational, unfulfilling, unhealthy way to exist, and not live at all, and they did it to prevent other men from having sex with lots of women. This is complete nonsense, since most men in the middle ages got married, did not have lots of partners, and raised children with their wives, and in the Catholic world at least (which was the ONLY Christianity), most marriages lasted literally until death parted them.
According to him, the entire structure of the Catholic Church was set up so the celibate priests could get all the poonani. It’s ridiculous on its face, ahistorical, and frankly smacks of Gollum-like backward rationalisation that would make a crack whore trying to justify her habit blush with shame.
Generally, lesser men cannot openly challenge greater men (men who fuck) in physical prowess. So, more intelligent men who don’t fuck contrived forms of social gaslighting to improve their chances of reproducing. Smarter lesser men have always devised workarounds to solve their reproductive problems. It’s actually one of the strengths of our species. Nothing sparks innovation quite like a man solving his proximate need for sex and his ultimate need to reproduce. And nothing has been more expedient a tactic than convincing a greater man that he ought to disqualify himself from the sexual economy.
According to Rollo, the Gammas have been “successful” throughout the ages at getting Alpha men to not reproduce. Oh, no, sorry, to fuck, for the sake of fucking alone; reproduction be damned. Once again, anyone who has actually been successful with women over a period of some years, can tell you this is absolute bullshit, and it makes me suspect Rollo, like so many PUAs after him, is likely also full of shit about his supposed sexual prowess with women. It doesn’t matter what the Gammas do. Alphas and Sigmas (that are that way inclined, some Sigmas are not) will be with women sexually even if you imposed the death penalty for doing so. And they would still find ways to get away with it. Gammas have never been very successful at anything really, except being annoying, redundant, and getting women to avoid them like radioactive plague. And notice also that for Rollo the sole qualifier of what makes a man “great” is how high his body count is. Truly it is so pathetically ridiculous that it makes me laugh at both the stupidity of it, and Rollo’s own intrinsic amoeba-like existence. And while he wants very much to paint my view of this as some sort of “envy”, there really is absolutely zero of any such intent or reality in my perspective. It is genuinely the somewhat ironic mild amusement one gets from watching a complete fuckwit trying to be clever and spectacularly showing his ass to the world for the fuckwit he really is.
The problem is, guys who fuck are usually too preoccupied with the logistics of fucking to be bothered by the self-loathing moralism of guys who don’t fuck. At least, that’s how it’s been in a post-Sexual Revolution sexual economy. If it ain’t broke, fixing it isn’t even an afterthought. When you watched the now infamous AMOGing scene in The Wolf Of Wall Street where Leonardo Di Caprio swoops Margot Robbie from a trust fund yuppie, you’re really watching the intrasexual combat between a guy who fucks and a guy who doesn’t. It’s how human males lock horns over sexual access in rutting season. The only thing a guy who doesn’t fuck has in his arsenal is his cunning and nerve.
The emphasis is added by me to point out yet again another logical fallacy. The men who are successful with women do not preoccupy themselves with the logistics of fucking at all, beyond possibly getting their maid, sister, or slutty FWB, to change their semen-stained bedsheets from the night before, because they have a new girl coming over. Literally every man I have known that was… well… a “guy who fucks” like Rollo wants to put it, gave his interactions with women less consideration than he did his enjoyment of a film with a good friend, or his sport of choice, or reading a book he was into. The fact Rollo does not know this, again, makes me suspect he is not quite the lady-killer he presents himself as.
This is why body count only matters to guys who don’t fuck. Their moral crisis isn’t about their inability to find a virgin bride. Guys who don’t fuck couldn’t give two shits about whether a woman’s ability to pair bond with him is impaired by her body count. All they really want is the kind of sex women give to guys who do fuck but never need the ‘value added’ benefits he had to qualify for to get her to fuck him. You see, the gaslighting goes both ways – outwardly towards a sexual rival and inwardly to convince himself that his purpose is righteous. Moralizing over body count is as much about the guy wagging his finger at women as it is about their indiscriminate fucking. There’s actually nothing indiscriminate about it, but sour grapes and making your necessity a virtue are necessary to make Strategic Pluralism an unfalsifiable sexual strategy.
There is a hint of truth to this paragraph, but it is presented as the only absolute, which, as usual, is nonsense. Most men in general actually do care about body-count for any woman they would consider as a long term partner, and at times even for ones they would consider only for a temporary fling. The fact Rollo does not know this, is a clear indication that he is still at the teenager level of sexual immaturity.
Strategic Pluralism Theory
According to strategic pluralism theory (Gangestad & Simpson, 2000), men have evolved to pursue reproductive strategies that are contingent on their value in the mating market. More attractive men accrue reproductive benefits from spending more time seeking multiple mating partners and relatively less time investing in offspring (guys who fuck).
In contrast, the reproductive effort of less attractive men, who do not have the same mating opportunities (guys who don’t fuck), is better allocated to investing heavily in their mates and offspring and spending relatively less time seeking additional mates.
From a woman’s perspective, the ideal is to attract a partner who confers both long-term investment benefits and genetic benefits (true hypergamy). Not all women, however, will be able to attract long-term investing mates who also display heritable fitness cues (guys who fuck). Consequently, women face trade-offs in choosing mates because they may be forced to choose between males displaying fitness indicators or those who will assist in offspring care and be good long-term mates (Gangestad & Simpson, 2000).
The most straightforward prediction that follows is that women seeking short-term mates when the man’s only contribution to offspring is genetic should prefer muscularity more than women seeking long-term mates.
Guys who fuck are usually typified by physique. Usually.
All that theory says is what has been known since the dawn of time. Women want the fittest and most successful male to breed with, and those types of men have unlimited options so tend to make use of them. Also, water is wet.
Much as I despise Destiny, the guy DOES fuck. Maybe not like Justin Waller, Jason Momoa, or Mike Sartain, but he certainly ruts like a feral animal compared to Ben Shapiro. Guys who fuck don’t sit around comparing dick sizes or bask in the glow of the imaginings of the third-party validation they get from filling a void in their souls/egos by fucking. These are tropes that guys who don’t fuck tell themselves to explain why guys who do fuck are fucking the women they’ll eventually fuck because those women ran out of options. The concept of fucking for some ephemeral form of validation is part of that gaslighting I mentioned above.
Here we see a rather convoluted bit of chaff-firing, self-delusion and gaslighting in order to justify and rationalise both to himself and the world, his ultimately meaningless way of existing.
He says guys who have his (supposed) lifestyle do not worry about their image which can be “true” to the extent that some men do not care how their womanising makes them look to other men (or in some cases to women too) or society in general, but they tend to be the exceptions, most Alpha types do care about the way they are perceived, and in any case, they all care at least about what women, or at least any given woman in particular, at a point in time, thinks of them, if only to get them in bed. It is also generally true that men who are successful with women do not tend to over-analyse themselves (unless they are PUAs) but the fact remains there is a deeply unfulfilled part of them, whether they realise it or not consciously, that has quite a lot to do with needing to feel loved, and paradoxically, their womanising tends to almost ensure they are ostracised from that very sensation they crave (consciously or not).
But ultimately he ends with yet another nihilist absolute. According to him, such men (as he presents himself to supposedly be) fuck for… just the orgasm I guess. They don’t do it for any self-validation, they don’t do it for love, they don’t do it for procreation, they don’t do it for long term companionship… right Rollo, nice of you to finally admit (if passively aggressively like a whiny bitch) that all people like you do, is really masturbate themselves to death, and it really makes little difference if you do it alone or with a human you empathise with about the same as you do with your no-doubt well-used fleshlight.
It’s intended to get your genetic superior to disqualify himself by contemplating his filling the void of existence with meaningless sex. Meaning plays another big role in the game of guys who don’t fuck. “Meaning” is a container word. It’s a term you can subjectively fill with anything you like. Even fucking if you’re clever about it. Meaning is intentionally ambiguous, and that’s what makes it so effective in being unfalsifiable. As a rule, gaslighting depends on unfalsifiable concepts, but meaning is one of the capstones. Any time you listen to some child on the Fresh & Fit podcast prattle on about how she’s living her truth, you’re listening to a variation of the meaningfulness horseshit.
And here Rollo doubles down on the idea that his life has no meaning. None whatsoever. All there is, is the fuck, for the sake of the fuck, the ultimately masturbationary orgasm for the sake of the orgasm itself, not any other reason. Not self-validation, not self-improvement, not marriage, not reproduction, nope, nope, nope, just the ever omnipresent “fuck”.
Do you see why I compared him, and people like him, to Gollum?
Guys who don’t fuck, like Ben Shapiro and Jordan Peterson, are actually the ones who need validation. Because soul-void fulfillment means confronting the reality that they’ll never enjoy the uninhibited feral lust their wives reserved for the men in their past who fucked. Men who never had to prove their value-added bona fides to fuck the women who would become their wives. Men who don’t fuck live lives of ceaselessly qualifying for a desire they know their wives were capable of with other men but can’t seem to provoke themselves. This is why validation is a thing for guys who don’t fuck – and women who need a Jungian term to explain why guys who do fuck won’t fuck them.
And now he takes the doubled down absolute idiocy to truly stupefying levels. According to him, the men who “fuck” are the be-all and end-all of life, the utter epitome of manly manness. Yes, there is some truth to the self-soothing half-truths and lies men and women tell themselves for not being as successful in the sexual marketplace, but what Rollo tries desperately to shove under the carpet with his tracer-firing barrage at what he considers “inferior” men is the question: What, exactly, are the men who “fuck” better for, or at, in life? And the ONLY thing Rollo keeps coming up with is the purpose of “the fuck” itself. Which is, of course, either ridiculous or nihilistic and pathetic to a suicidal degree. And we know more than one PUA has gone the suicide route too. (And as it happens, Rollo himself turns out to be one of the guys who “does not fuck”, in his own terminology, which according to him, makes him the same as Ben Shapiro. Well… I got nothing, the man is entirely a fraud whichever way you look at it.)
Guys who don’t fuck are the dutiful, loyal, supportive, and nameless husband who Rosehad children and grandchildren with, yet pined for Jack (a guy who fucks) and dropped a priceless diamond to the bottom of the sea in the final moments of her life at the end of Titanic. Hypergamy doesn’t care about the moral crises and ethical concerns of guys who don’t fuck. Validation and body count are just two heads of a conjoined twin. They haven’t gotten the memo that their 20th-century moralism-as-strategy is meaningless in a 21st-century sexual marketplace.
Ah yes. Using Titanic as the masterpiece of philosophy that it clearly was, and making the vapid, stupid, callous, utterly self-absorbed narcissist Rose, the “heroine” of the piece, because she throws away a fortune she could have given to her progeny, in quintessential, wicked, super-boomer format, is indeed, a bold strategy, Rollo! Not a good one, valid or sensible one, but certainly “bold”. As in the same kind of “bold” that would stick his dick in a bar-cutting industrial machinery to “prove his manliness”.
Body count only matters to nameless husbands who don’t fuck. It doesn’t matter to anywoman because they would rather fuck a lot of Jacks on a sinking ship than be bothered by the purity (paternity) concerns of guys who don’t fuck. Guys who fuck don’t care about body count because they know women hate guys who don’t fuck, and those guys care about body count.
Again, it is quite obvious that Rollo protesteth too much here, as he has throughout the entire vapid, ageing PUA post.
Rollo is the male equivalent of a post-wall woman who has ridden the cock-carousel so long she is now left on the shelf. And Rollo is the post-wall “bad-boy” (assuming he ever really actually was one at all) who is left with spent cigarettes, a ruggerised fleshlight, wrinkles, and increasingly creeping despair, at the beginning of the end of a life wasted on ephemera.
FINAL UPDATE: As I said right from the start, PUAs lie, and as it happens Rollo lied about pretty much everything concerning his supposed “ability” concerning women, and he advises men to do the exact opposite of what he himself has done, which is to stay married to one woman for 26 years. If he had been the ladykiller he presented himself as, the above vivisection would be absolutely correct, and as it happens, remains so, regarding the fictional would-be Rollo. And since he is an absolute fraud that advises others to go down a path he knows nothing about and leads to nothing good long term, one can hardly imagine anything he has to say is relevant or worthwhile. Even by his own (retarded) “measuring stick” Rollo himself is the exact guy who “does not fuck” that he so denigrates in his post. And yet he also advises against being married. So… what exactly is Rollo, what does he actually have to say that is relevant, or true, or valid?
Right, now after that vivisection, let us return to the original points, which are that:
Anglos are weird about caring about what women think of them, and,
Rollo is full of shit.
And seeing what that says about men who chase after women for sex and so on in general terms and in spiritual terms.
First of all, I think the point about Anglos being afflicted by gynæmania is a real thing. The English speaking world of the Anglos is indeed, culturally, regardless of whether British (though these are the epicentre of it) Australian, New Zealand, Canadian, or even the more Anglecised parts of America, tends to be irrelevant, as a people, they tend to be grossly united by the Protestant Zeitgeist and a kind of fear/intimidation/shyness of women in general.
Certainly none of the Catholic countries suffer from this to anywhere near the extent the English people do. And it has been this way for centuries. The writings of Italian travellers to England recounts the same view of things that we Southern European tend to have even today of the English men and the English women.
I believe in part it is due to the nefarious influence of Protestantism, as it is an invariably mechanising of humanity and the minute you do that, the first errors will be with your understanding/handling/appreciation of women, because human females are in a way the very embodiment of the chaos of humanity at its best and its worst, and any reduction at binarium pensierum (binary thinking) will invariably produce vast errors in your model of reality with respect to women. And as such they will become only more mystifying, unpredictable and dangerous for you. The other part is due to the fact that as a rule, the Anglos tend to be a logical and shy people, neither of which quality lends itself particularly well to being easy-going in relation to women, who as a rule are not logical and only pretend to be shy in the company of men, if at all.
For such men, the eventual “ability” to bed a lot of women does in fact begin to become a form of validation for them. It remains essentially a false one, but one they believe in and buy into as much as the people they try to convince around them.
These are the men that despite having slept with a hundred or even a few hundred women or more, remain nevertheless prey to their own desire for women and susceptible to how they are perceived by the women they are attracted to. They invariably appear as what the Zoomers call “cringe” to men who have the self-assuredness internally that these Anglo types seek perennially, and hardly ever find. I have known men that only had two women as sexual partners, the first was their wife and the second also their wife, after the first one died, and yet these men would have zero problem genuinely attracting almost any woman they set their eyes on, and they would do so free of the anxiety and self-doubt that plagues the supposed ladies men with hundreds of notches on their belts.
For me, discovering I was able to get women to have sex with me successfully, was not self-actualising in any way. It was more like discovering I had a natural aptitude for fencing, or skiing. A kind of pleasant surprise about something I never really gave much thought to one way or the other. And a good part of why I was successful has very much to do with the fact that that is pretty much how I treated it, not because I wanted to pose as such a person, but because I am such a person. And I cannot with certainty say what makes a man that way or not. I think at least some of it is genetic, but life experiences probably formed in childhood also has something to do with it.
And if I had to give it my best guess, I would say it is probably mostly due to whether your relationship with your parents, and primarily your father, was honest and direct and loving or not. The English sense of “logical detachment” I think is ultimately damaging to children, which is why the entire Anglosphere is a fucking mess of feral youfs with no sense, no honour, no dignity, or discipline to speak of, and increasingly illiterate at that.
The more instinctual and visceral love of an Italian father, who may well kick your ass, literally, for some small or even wrong reason, but who would unquestioningly jump into a harvesting combine to save you, is a far healthier way to be raised than the cold logic of the Anglo-Saxons. And instills in you a profound sense of self-assuredness that I think nothing else does. And that sense comes through to women like a lighthouse in the dark, whether they are aware of it or not consciously (mostly not).
I hope this explains the reason why some men, regardless of how many women they have slept with, ultimately remain on some level… uncertain. Doubtful. Unfinished. And women can in fact sense that.
Now, let us get to the concept of fornication in general and so on, which in fairness, was the topic that Adam was trying to cover, and to which, my extremely long preamble above is merely introduction to give you my context.
On Fornication
First of all, let me state unambiguously that yes, in an ideal world, the way that the Catholic Church says we should behave, both as men and women is indeed, the best and ideal way. No question. I unreseveredly agree.
That said, being as I am Catholic, and being as I lived like a heathen for at least 43 years of my time on Earth, and given that I made no attempt to resist temptations of the flesh in that time, I think I can say with some authority that:
We live on a world that is decidedly fallen and very far from ideal.
Every one of us is utterly flawed in many ways even after we see and realise and accept the truth of Catholicism.
Men who have yet even to see the truth of Catholicism cannot, in all likelihood, even begin to see why what are known as the sins of the flesh are even bad, never mind actual mortal sins.
So, if unmitigated fornication is the equivalent of a blind and deaf man walking towards a cliff-face, how can I possibly begin to even make him aware of this truth? The temptations of the flesh after all are not a fairy tale. They are very much real, and they certainly never felt bad or sinful to me when I indulged deeply in them, nor, do I expect they feel that way to the average 20-something or even 30-something year old male that is “finally getting some!”
And while Adam and people like him, including Catholic Priests and Bishops are absolutely correct that it is a damaging thing, it’s not as if I had not heard that sort of preaching when I was indulging deeply in fornication and then some.
And my reaction to it all was usually, something like, Eh, poor bastard isn’t getting any and he either doesn’t know what he’s missing, or maybe would like, much as the feminists, everyone to be as miserable as him.
And I expect any young man that has got this far (if any have) in this long post, is probably thinking the same thing, and they also do not have a counter-example as a reference frame. Not one they have lived certainly, because that counter example you only get once you are married, and fully committed to one woman, and she is to you too.
It sort of feels like a lie. Oh, don’t you have any fun now, boy, you just wait and just take the ONE sweet, and only that one, for the rest of your life, and trust us, it’s better this way. With all the bullshit you have ingested by age 20, and your at least seeing some of it (if you are not completely retarded) one can hardly be blamed for thinking this too is a massive lie.
And because I am Catholic, and because I have also the example of my own life, and the awesomeness of a real priest that Baptised, Confirmed and presided over my Marriage, and had the benefit of his wisdom and kindness, I also understand that fallen as we are, erroneous as we are, mistaken as we are, we are not necessarily evil or shunning God. We are just wrong. Badly, desperately, tragically, sadly, wrong, but mostly just wrong, not intentionally evil. And we are sad, weak, feel unloved and uncared for by anyone and we try, like drowning rats, to scrabble some sense of worth and love and kindness, wherever there is any illusion we might find some. And so we make mistakes.
And most of you reading this who are unmarried will be in the midst of those mistakes, and I am not here to chastise you, or rain thunder and fire and brimstone and judgement from God on your weighted and desperate heads. Far from it.
I was one of you. I walked your path deeper and longer in the swamp of godless life than most. So, young man, if you will, after this very long set of words, take a seat near my camp-fire and let me tell you a story and may it help you navigate your own swamp, and may it be shallow and brief.
So you are fornicating. So you may even like a girl you are with and be boyfriend and girlfriend, and you may even be thinking how it would be nice if it will last. Or maybe you’re so infatuated with the sensations of sex that a new girl every week or every day or two, or whatever, is intoxicating and draining all your thoughts and actions, wallet and testicles. Whatever the case may be, listen to this and think it over:
What do you want for your life? What do you want to think about your life when you are 99 years old and on your rocking chair and you can see the grim reaper finally walking towards you? And you’re fine with it and smile at him even, recognising that this supposedly terrible and fearful boogeyman is nothing more than a tired and misunderstood boatman, taking you across the veil (or the river Styx if you prefer).
Do you think you will be pleased reminiscing over your 287 sexual conquests, aided by your printed out spreadsheet in large letter format, because your eyes are no longer what they used to be? Playing out the sex tapes on the projector of your study to remember better what you did or felt or what they did? Or who they even were? Do you think that will warm your heart as you face the final journey?
Or your sporting achievements?
Or your financial ones, absent children and grandchildren to leave it to?
Tell me, young man, what do you think will make you able to face the final boatman with serenity and peace?
I’ll tell you what it is for me now and what I hope it will be for me at 105, but I say only 105 because I started late, otherwise 99 would be perfectly acceptable to me too. And yes, I know I’d be lucky to get there.
It is the idea of my children grown up and married and with children of their own, and doing well, and if God grants me the energy and the fortune to do so, the idea of leaving them as much as I possibly can, to make their lives and those of their children good ones.
It is the idea of watching my grandchildren and possibly even my great-grandchildren (hence 105!) running around nearby, screaming and making noise and playing joyfully and laughing full belly-laughs and thinking my sons and daughters and their wives and husbands are good women and men who will be with them to the end of their days and help them raise the next lot of joyous Crusaders for God, Truth and Justice, as my family line has done since the literal original First Crusade.
Now you may have a different religion from me (because you’re still young and stupid, heh, heh, heh) but I don’t think it changes the equation. I don’t think it changes it at all.
And here is what else I think. I think if what I just told you is NOT what inspires you, is abhorrent to you in some way, then I hope very much it’s only because, as I said, you’re young, and really fucking stupid, and you have bought in to a lot of Boomer-era lies, And I sincerely hope you grow out of your mental retardation.
And if not, if that is who you really are, then fuck you. I hope you die young and rid the world of another noxious creature that only spoils the Earth and everything on it. And I’m not talking about climate change, you fuckwit.
Now, if you get the impression that I am a kind of bastard for an old man, I would say, fuck you at the “old man” I can probably still kick your ass at 54 if you are in your twenties, depending on some factors, but that aside, yeah, I am not the most pleasant human being. I don’t like humans much because mostly they are weak, and because they are weak they lie. And they lie a lot. They lie to themselves first and then to everyone else around them. And the lies cause the harm. They cause ALL the harm. Which is as the god of this world wants it. Because this Earth is under the dominion of Satan. And no, young man, I don’t give a shit if you think “The Devil” is a superstition. He is more real than the heart-attack all the poor imbeciles that took the genetic serum are probably facing in the not too distant future.
Oh, and this is just a side note, but listen up: The Earth is NOT Flat!
And if you think it is you are a stupid bastard and I really don’t care what happens to you and with a level of stupidity that high it is definitely a better thing if you do not pass on those retarded genes at all.
Back to my story, now.
So, if you agree with me so far, then you also must realise that you get that kind of old-age satisfaction only if you make children and raise them well. And this means finding and marrying a woman that will also want to be with you until one or both of you die and raise children together. No matter what difficulties you will both face. No matter if you are so fucking stupid one day to fuck your secretary, or hire a prostitute, or become a heavy drinker, or make a bad business decision and lose your shirt. And conversely, no matter if she is so fucking stupid to spread her legs for the sexy postman, or her co-worker, or the neighbour, or she becomes a heavy drinker, or more worried about what the neighbours think of you and her than looking after her husband and children, or she splashes out on stupid shit and drives you to the brink of bankruptcy.
So is it easy to find such a woman? No.
Is it easy to stay married to such a woman, delightful as she might be? No.
Will you come across things in life that will hurt you in ways you never imagined, and that would seem to make leaving her a better option? Yes.
More than once? In all likelihood, yes.
And will she come across such things? Yes, without shadow of a doubt, and probably even more often than you.
And if you are thinking right now, Well Old Man, this is a really rosy picture you’re painting for me, what the fuck do you want me to do, and is the light at then of the tunnel also an oncoming train?
I say this to you:
Firstly fuck you twice for the Old Man again, you wet behind the ears know-nothing. Secondly, it’s not rosy. It’s just how it is, so you know what you’re facing. Forewarned is forearmed as they say. What I want you to do is immaterial. It’s what you want to do, or not do, that matters. Realise whether you pick something, or pick nothing, you’re still picking something. So choose, and choose consciously, because at least then you got no one to blame but yourself.
Oh, and yeah, in the end, the light at the end of the tunnel is always an oncoming train. Sometimes it’s got a boatman riding up front. Smile and run at it, because fuck the train. Live like a man and die like one too if need be.
So now you might be thinking, Ok Old Man, so how do I find such a woman?
And I say to you, firstly, fuck you three times for the Old man. Secondly, unless you have uncommon good luck, unless God for some reason decides to send you an Angel in disguise as a human woman, most likely, you cannot find such a woman walking the Earth today.
Young man stares blankly at me.
You have to build her.
Young man says: What?
You have to build her, boy. You find one that is as close as you can find to a finished product, and I sincerely advise you to find one that is in your category of looks. If you are a 7 don’t try and stay with a 9. You’ll be so worried about keeping her that you will fuck up a myriad things and she will end up fucking your “best friend”, the neighbour, your boss, her boss, and if you did marry her, she will take the kids and your house too when she inevitably divorces you.
Take your time in your courtship. Learn who she is and pay attention to what she does and how she acts in various situations and feel free to almost totally ignore whatever she says she is like. You can really only go badly wrong if you believe her when she describes all her good qualities. Pay her words no mind. Observe her actions instead.
If you feel you have enough to work with (at least 51% good is a minimum) then begin to go about leading by example. Do NOT request of her efforts or sacrifices you are not willing to exceed. And yes, some things are not comparable on a like for like basis, because she is a woman and you are a man, you can no more give birth or breastfeed your child than she can write the alphabet in the snow when urinating, and don’t think the one is equivalent in value to the other, but realise that as a general rule, women can provide three things to a man:
So do your part and gently show her the way, so she feels better about herself, as women invariably do when they begin to act in accordance with their God-given, biological imperatives, that have been subverted by lies for the last hundred plus years or so.
That’s about it, boy.
And if you are still wondering where this puts you in the fornication scale, well, to not put too fine a point on it, according to the Church, until you marry and commit, your fornication is going to send you to Hell. So I would hurry up and get to finding that woman as quick, yet also as careful, as you can. And try not to get hit by a bus until you get married to her and repent and foreswear your heathen and fornicating ways, you miserable sinner.
And if you have any brains at all, about now, young man, you might be having a little smile at the apparently hypocritical, arrogant, bastard, old man in front of you.
UPDATE: So, having received some feedback already, it seems that in my effort to try and make things clear I have apparently made it less so, so I present two shorter versions of the FSSH below, that stick to the cold facts without the longer explanations. Some people find these easier to grasp or at least easier to process, and the point is to be helpful, so… here it is:
Keep in mind that the WHOLE POINT of a SSH is for it to be able to make accurate predictions of human behaviour in any given situation. The Male SSH predicts male behaviour and my FSSH predicts female behaviour; not quite to the same level of accuracy that the male SSH does, but certainly at a probability that is correct comfortably over 50% of the time (I’d say at least in the region of 75% of the time and considerably higher when the women involved have average IQs). Here it is then:
The FSSH does not have a list of “types” like the Male SSH (yes, one a few autist complained there was no lists at all! Which I thought was obvious from the longer post below but whatever).
In fact, the FSSH is a dynamic cloud of probabilities within which each woman shifts up or down the pecking order depending on various factors.
Whatever those factors are, the effect on each woman can be approximately predicted by considering:
The situation itself
The relative 1-10 attractiveness of each woman in the interaction
The fact women process the world mostly according to their emotions and most important of all:
Women are essentially solipsistic to the point of their believing the universe is there to please them!
That is the shortest description I can make for the FSSH.
Another attempt is here below a bit longer than the above and then the original post below that.
The reality is that there isn’t so much a FSSH with various categories but rather more of a cloud of probabilities that is dynamically shifting at any given moment due to 1. Situationality 2. The relative attractiveness of the (female) participants on the 1-10 scale 3. The fact women operate mostly on their emotions and solipsism. If one considers those points in any given scenario, he can make general predictions about the behaviour of each female in the group that will likely be correct more than 50% of the time. That, in a nutshell, is the cold reduction of my observations into a short post. But that tends to be difficult for the average man to grasp so I detailed it out with some examples in the much longer post below. If one is looking for a nomenclature like gamma, alpha etc I think that doesn’t exist as such for the FSSH, as it is always situational and relative to the other female participants.
Point 1 is the situation itself, which if you want to predict behaviour you need to process from HER (solipsistic and emotional) perspective.
To you, you’re having a cocktail party with your cool friends. But to HER, Jennifer might be a 9 (with her fake tits, bitch!) to her 8.5 and the stakes here are high and Jennifer (the bitch!) laughs at all your jokes and Brad, Jennifer’s husband is meek and quiet. So that Bitch is making eyes at you!
So when your wife behaves in a casually and uncharacteristically cold manner at Jennifer… or YOU, because you smiled at Jennifer! Twice! The dirty whore! You pig!
You can resolve the issue by praising your wife and making it obvious you love her.
Average man: Uh… (quietly in the kitchen) honey… why you being such a bitch to Jennifer? Result: female meltdown
In that situation, in case it wasn’t clear, Jennifer has the higher pecking order; at least until you act in a way that makes it clear you see no one but your wife, then your wife has the higher pecking order, especially since Brad is quiet and meek, meaning despite your wife’s 8.5 on the hot scale to Jennifer’s 9, she (your wife) scored the better male, and so she is now higher on the totem pole.
I agree, of course, that any man that says he has totally figured out how women work is either crazy or —usually more often— a liar; of the PUA variety. Nevertheless, some things can be known, as Vox indeed pointed out regarding the fatness issue.
But I think we can figure out a lot more than that, at least in gross terms. The female socio-sexual hierarchy, (FSSH) is both simpler and more complex than the male one Vox has detailed (and isn’t that paradox typical of the females of the species!)
My version of the FSSH is a little like my own original version of the male SSH, which I had come up with long before I met or read anything at all by Vox; that is, it is more general and rough, nowhere near as detailed as his. I only had three categories: Alpha, Beta and Scout. Which compared to his equate to Alpha, everything else, and Sigma.
My reasoning was based on evolutionary biology, which in many respects is a kind of pseudo-science, a little like hypnosis. It’s not that it is all quackery, there are some very solid pieces of information in it, but it’s just that a lot of it is not clear what exactly it means, (at least to most people) or even, if it means anything at all (it does, but as I say, it is a complex subject). So it’s a mix between art and science. Given I tend to be more on the engineering side of the equation than the artistic one, my premise was simple and based purely in the practical aspects: Alphas are the movers and shakers in the social world of humanity. Betas is pretty much everyone else, and I did not bother to categorise them beyond noting which were loyal, reliable and mostly honest, and those who were not, because these were the only qualities that had any real meaning to me. Aside their quirks of personality or things they did or were good at or whatever, they were not really of any consequence. I considered Betas mostly like NPCs, some good, some bad, mostly just background noise. They are not and have never been anything dangerous. They can be annoying or helpful, but lions, even quiet ones, are not concerned with hyenas, or whatever. But I also reasoned that for mankind to move beyond small tribes of about 200 people each, some guys, and yes it had to be guys, must have had the scout skill, that is, the ability to infiltrate other groups different from his own not only without getting killed, but also being able to procreate with this other tribe.
That, especially in primitive societies) takes an uncommon level of chameleon-like quality, discarding of personal bias at the drop of a hat, and intelligence, and even then it’s risky business. I knew I was not Alpha material, because the trappings of social power, to me, are just that mostly: Trappings. With precious little to off-set that cost. And despite their social power I never feared Alphas. I kept an eye on them, because they could be dangerous if they got it into their head to make you an enemy of theirs, but no matter their level of social power, it never had any effect on me. And I could recount many times that my genuine absence of status-worship or “celebrity-dazzle” or even sometimes awareness of it altogether resulted in somewhat comical effects. Alphas on the other hand, tended to have an almost visceral and instant aversion to me. And I am certain it is because they could sense I was a potential danger. Making an enemy of a scout means the king might wake up with his throat slit, his wife having delivered the dagger to his assassin, and his throne usurped; not for the sake of power, but merely as securing the Scout’s best option for survival.
Vox detailed the various versions of what I called Betas in far more detail than I ever cared to, and that is a good thing of course. But I explained the above to make a parallel, because my version of the FSSH is going to be akin to my simple version of the Male SSH, it is not particularly detailed, nevertheless it is useful. Even very useful, given the apparent dearth of understanding I notice around me.
First of all you need to grasp that women do NOT operate on the basis of Logic. They operate on the basis of emotion. Which is the part that makes them difficult or even impossible to always predict. In short, this is the “complex” element of the FSSH that means a detailed breakdown of various “types” is probably impossible to do other than in the broadest terms, as you will see shortly.
Secondly, you need to understand that women operate as if the entire Universe is built and exists only and solely for them. If it rains when they want to wear a sundress, then she will be angry at the fickle and exasperating God that is DISOBEYING her needs!
If you think my two paragraphs up there are hyperbole, do yourself a favour, run with my model anyway and observe women around you for a while and you will see it’s a useful model all the same.
If you can appreciate the subtlety of the second point especially, that is, their intrinsic solipsism, you will also begin to understand that if the entire Universe is built exclusively for them, and everyone else in it is basically just an NPC that is the backdrop of the film in which she is the star, you begin to appreciate what her relationship not just to other people in general is, but more especially, to other women is; who, remember, are all the stars in their own mind of the film of life that everyone else is just an NPC in.
Now, imagine a giant film set in which every single woman in it believes she is the central character of the film. Regardless of if she is a fat ball of lard with a half-shaved head and blue hair, or a svelte supermodel with the entire works of Shakespeare, Milton and Keats committed to memory.
If you keep this image in mind, while the detailed actions of any one of these “starlets” may certainly surprise you from time to time, if not outright kill you (yes, it can, trust me…) you can probably make decent educated guesses at what kind of thing they may do or how they may react in any given situation that involves other women.
The fat balls of lard KNOW they are fat balls of lard, but they are the STAR, remember, and as such, the svelte looking supermodel with the hot-looking chiselled featured stud in tow is just another snooty bitch that thinks she is so great just because she is not a fattie, BUT… let’s not forget, the fattie is the STAR, so she will tell anyone who will listen how the supermodel is really quite dim, and she only gets any parts by spreading her legs wherever she goes, and the Brad Pitt lookalike is even dumber than she is and either being taken advantage of (if he is polite and kindly to fattie) or is just as mean, mercenary and stupid as the supermodel (if he tends to shun fattie).
On her side, the supermodel is quite happy to shower the fattie with obvious praise in public, because why should a STAR like herself even feel threatened by a frumpy ball of lard like fattie? Besides it makes everyone around her like even more! Supermodel looks, Brad Pitt lookalike on her arm AND she is kind to the unfortunates that look like fattie, and small animals. It all just makes her more of a STAR!
Now, what if fattie starts going to the gym and eating salads? Well, it’s fine at first, the supermodel might even compliment her, especially if fatties genetics mean it will be impossible for her to ever compete really with the supermodel, but there is a dangerous tipping point, where fattie, even if only a 6 in the looks department, especially if she keeps her head down, just gets on with it and behaves more reasonably and logically and gives everyone around her (men especially) their dues… well… guess what… many a man would rather spend a pleasant evening with a friendly and non-self-absorbed (well, for a woman, anyway) 6 than a vapid, or egomaniacal 9 who looks like a supermodel. And that pleasant evening might even stretch itself to an evening or ten of passion, and maybe even a lifetime.
Brad, might be getting sick of Angelina and her insane bullshit. Brad might begin to think that frumpy Janet who lost a lot of weight, looks after herself and acts at least 2 or 3 levels closer to sanity on the Universal Hot Crazy Matrix scale, might start to look attractive in more ways than just casual coffee on Fridays before shooting for the day starts. And Angelina can’t have THAT! So she will begin bringing doughnuts fried in lard and covered in sugar to those Friday meet-ups and make sure to offer them daily to Janet. By the way the Universal Hot Crazy Matrix also has a version for men, right at the end of the video, which takes about 20 seconds, and aside from accurate, it’s funny too, so watch it, even if you have seen it before.
Now, what confuses most men about this is that while the above is a perfect representation of the dynamics of the FSSH, the problem is that it is not as directly linear as the MSSH. And this is because women operate on emotions, not logic and objective reality.
And this also affects what I term their self-awareness level. So, if Angelia is having a fantastic day, she may even be nice to Janet and tell her genuinely that she really is making a good effort in her own life (which will still feel like condescending snobbery to Janet, regardless of actual intent in that moment), but if Angelia just had a fight with Brad, she will be a complete harpy to Janet, and vice-versa.
Those of you old enough to be familiar with the legendary video of the Universal Hot Crazy Matrix I linked to up there, or who just watched dit, may recall a very important point the man says, which in some ways is the most pivotal point of it all and goes something along these lines:
“Now it’s important to understand that any woman can appear or disappear from any one location on the chart and appear or disappear in another location of the chart, and it is only once you have a cluster of data points that you can approximately place her on the chart.”
And this is very much the same here.
And for those men that lament the emotions of women, allow me to point out that while it is true that no man will ever really understand women fully, there is a sliding scale and if you lament the emotions of women, you sir, are dimmer than most.
Let me paint you a picture of what women would be like if all you left them with was their ravenous solipsism. Their naked egomania if you like. Unmuted and unsoftened by their ever ephemeral states of mind. Just where do you think that “mythologies” like the Gorgons (Medusas), the harpies, and the demonic Succubi come from? And more fool you if you think such women are only the stuff of myth and legend.
So, be grateful, you foolish mortal, for the God-given emotions that rule their hearts and minds. Yes they can become like a storm in the high seas, but they can also become the calm waters of an idyllic lake whilst the hurricane of life rages all about you.
If you keep these two points in mind, that they are ruled by emotions and that these in turn are affected by their hormones far more than your hormones affect your own emotions, and that the central belief of every woman under the sun is that the entire Universe was created solely for her and her pleasure and happiness, then, you can truly begin to predict quite a lot of their behaviours.
You can even make broad generalisations that will fit vast categories of females.
For example, the good looking ones do tend to be higher on the crazy scale. Why? Think about it. Men will do almost anything to bed one of these women. They will lie, pretend, posture, spend stupid amounts of money, time and energy to impress them enough just so as to get their knickers off them and a taste of what lies beneath them. But most men are not like Ulysses (Odysseus) and do not have the mental fortitude to tie themselves to the mast of their ship so as not to be driven onto the rocks by the Siren’s song. So… when this vision of beauty gets into one of her “moods” they will fold to her will in a desperate attempt to please her, which will make her eventually resent and be disgusted by the weakness of such a man, or run from her in despair and fear or at least self-preservation, or attempt to weather the storm only to find their lives dashed on the rocks like so many sailors before them. And this pattern for a beautiful woman, especially if she is also intelligent and has at least a smattering of potential at doing logic, invariably embitters her towards men in general and certain attitudes or behaviours will also tend to set her off even when nothing underhanded is meant by them.
For example: the normal and natural tendency of every man alive under the sun to enjoy, want, think about, plan and act, pretty much throughout 90% of their day with a direct or indirect intention towards sex, will end up making her think all men are disgusting, sex-starved pigs. The damage done to her by these unfulfilling temporary relationships with sub-standard men, will naturally embitter her, because, without her natural appreciation as a woman, she will forget that while, yes, indeed we all are close enough to disgusting sex-starved pigs, the truth is also that if you have the right attitude, pigs are very intelligent, loving, fun animals to have around. Besides, if we don’t crucify you for being ego-mosters thinly veiled with a veneer of emotive camouflage, don’t begrudge our almost male praying mantis proclivity for wanting to mate with a creature that is far more likely to cut off and eat our head than we are theirs (at least emotionally speaking, certainly).
So, the damage caused to women’s souls, minds, hearts, by the men that are attracted to her but for whatever reasons end up being incompatible with her (almost always as a result of the man being a weaker specimen than his ancestors ever were) tends to make her indeed, more skittish, more egomaniacal when in one of her tantrums (justified or not), and overall more unpredictable and deadly for any man.
On the other hand, the sixes and five of life, those unfortunate ladies that just can’t compete in the looks department, will tend to be taken for granted, used and discarded by men as a second or third hand “prize” to merely salve the wounds received by the nines that shred their hearts to war-torn flags of despair.
As a result, when (or if) they finally snag a husband, that is, a man that will commit to them, they will either tend to gradually catapult all the resentment they accumulated over the years onto him (because remember the Universe has been unkind to her and the Universe must now PAY for this outrage, and if you married her, well, guess what, YOU are the central NPC that obviously must pay for it, since you too are just part of HER universe, you dolt!), or become so desperate in their fear that he will sooner or later leave them (because they simply don’t feel good enough) to either suffocate him with unrelenting jealousy, or smothering subservience to his every whim. Neither of which makes for an attractive quality to a man.
It is a rare woman indeed who is not a solipsistic ego-machine throughout most of her life, and if you find one… beware… as the man said, she might be a tranny, but even if not… she might actually be one of the worst of the lot; those Gorgons of supposed Myth: Female narcissists. The Medusae of life, are truly a beast forged in Hell, and with the ability to shape-shift before they slash your heart open while you sleep to feast on it like the vampire-succubi of death they really are.
Anyway, with those two simple pointers about emotions and solipsism in mind, you are forewarned at least 90% more than most men, who for the most part remain entirely clueless.
I will add two further pieces of advice that are also extremely valuable to keep in mind.
Women are as they are. If you are weak, stupid, and/or bitter enough to hate them for it, regardless of how you got there, then you too, are really, behaving in the same way as the woman who gets upset at, the weather being rainy when she wanted to wear a sundress, and who spoils the whole day for everyone around her too because of it. In short, you are NOT behaving like a man, but like some wimpy, pussified, emotional, effeminate, gay version of a “man”; that is, more like a woman. Look in the mirror and bitchslap yourself back to your senses.
Do you hate the sun for doing what it does? Or a snake for biting you if you step on it because you were not paying attention? Or a lion for eating you for the same quality of obliviousness? A lot of men do. And that’s because a lot of men fall into the category best expressed by Professor Cipolla: There are always more idiots around than you can possibly guess at.
So that’s the first suggestion. If you are bitter at women for being as they are, you are only making your own life more miserable. You might as well rage at the weather, or the sky for being blue.
The second suggestion is literally as old as the oracle at Delphi:
Man, know yourself.
It doesn’t matter what a woman is, harpy, narcissistic demon, sweet angel (of death and/or of life), or anything in between. If YOU know who YOU are, it doesn’t much matter what anyone does or says. You will act in accordance with who YOU are. That, has been the one saving grace I have had in my travels through the Odyssey of women I have lived through. And while Odysseus only took ten years to get back home, or if you count the siege of Troy too, twenty, my own journey was about twenty-eight years long before I landed in my metaphorical Ithaca.
I have probably made every mistake and survived every kind of female sea-monster that it is possible to survive, and if I did so it is only by the Grace of God and the fact that since a very, very, very, young age, I have always known right down to the molecular and atomic level of my DNA, who I am. And when you exist that way, they might kill you, they might break you, but they can’t bend you. And even if they break you, if they don’t kill you, you will rise from the ashes and be even more formidable after it.
I honestly think at least part of that is genetic. I come from a very long line of men that you could class as adventuring warriors with a code of honour. It is unbroken for at least some 820 years we can track the history of, and I see it in my own small son, so I cannot say that I am personally wholly responsible for it, but I am absolutely certain that I always did everything in my power, from even before the age of seven, that I could do, to deepen that sense of self, that knowing who I am, and therefore of knowing how I would react to any given situation even if I never even imagined it before.
Whatever happens, if you are the kind of man that is ready to die for his ideals, and not in a grand-showing of glory, but quietly and silently without anyone ever knowing you did so or why, and yet you would choose it still, then, my friend, perhaps not every woman will fall at your feet adoringly, but no matter what they do, you will survive it and not remain bitter; and you will be able to walk away even from Aphrodite herself, if she crosses certain lines, and the wrath of the gods be damned.
You may be too young to remember the absurd Feminist war cry that came out in either the 1980s or 1990s, I forget, that said:
“Women need men, like fish need a bicycle.”
And yet, here we are today…
It looks like it’s women that need men more than men may need women.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I have always ignored anyone with even a hint of feminism in their make-up with studious and amused indifference, except to entertain myself by at times simply saying something that would instantly turn their heads into IEDs as well as also make it obvious to everyone present they were bitter, insane, harpies that no one wanted to have sex with, and that was the primary cause of their “feminism” (mental instability) to begin with.
If you doubt me, just go look at images of the “luminaries” of radical feminism. Start with Andrea Dworkin. Before you do, make sure you have an empty stomach. The dry heaves will stop after about an hour.
But the point is that men, left to their own devices, will find or create a solution to almost any problem. Again, I am certainly not advocating for sex robots, far from it, but the reality is that a LOT of potentially perfectly suitable males that in the past would have got married and had children and had a happy and meaningful life, will in fact go down this hellish route, and they will do so in larger numbers than you expect, because the hard reality is that while men have, over the last couple of hundred years, overcome extremely large aspects of what one might call their “primitive” biological wiring, to become more tolerant and tractable, women, if anything, have only increased their solipsism, and intractability in general.
The future belongs to those women who embrace their femininity while doing the necessary violence upon their own base instincts to begin to act logically, honourably (a concept that is at best nebulous for the females of the species) and reliably, to a degree that makes men take notice.
Women who embody such qualities and look reasonably attractive will literally have the pick of quality men, who, rare though they may be, are usually always in more plentiful supply than the aforementioned type of woman.
I have been observing this trend since about age 16 and the last almost 40 years have done nothing to dissuade me from the idea that I am correct about this required next step in human evolution. The only question is whether women will catch up before we go extinct.
As I said, the future belongs to evolved, feminine women; or possibly, albeit briefly, to sex robots with agreeable AIs.
I have posted a couple of videos by this guy and I have watched a few more. So far, he’s got a pretty high percentage of videos watched (maybe 6-7 or so) vs videos I personally generally agree with in regards to relationships, and this video covers a lot of ground and I think gets it mostly right. I have summarised his percentages in a simple table below for ease of “first glance” summarising all he says in one image.
As he says, there are only 5 possible end games for a woman. I have summarised his percentages but any notes in italics are my own additional notes.
A – She is a High value woman, keeps her high value and gets the High Value man she wants
B – She is a High Value Woman, but lowers her Value in Order to get the High Value Man she wants
C – She is (or more likely by far, perceives herself to be) a high value woman, she does NOT lower her (usually self-perceived/deluded) high value, fails to get the high value man she wants, and settles for a lower value man.
D – She lowers her value, still fails to secure the man she wants and settles for a lower value man.
E – She fails to secure a man, even if willing to settle for a lower value man. This can be because she is really low value herself, (ugly, crippled, damaged from trauma to the point she avoids men altogether, etc) or because she is deluded about her value and has delusional expectations compared to her actual value, whatever that is in reality.
Now, the interesting thing is that as per the above chart, only 1% of women could be assumed to be in what they consider a happy relationship.
Another 6% of them also should be happy, but they may at times feel they deserve a little more time/attention/from their spectacular husband.
The rest, can be said to be at various degrees of disappointment. The smart ones, will understand that facing reality head on and making the most of it is the smart play. If we were optimistic and aid about half of the women in C and D did this, that would still leave about 30% of women that will in all likelihood eventually file for divorce. In my estimation nowhere near half of the women in C and D will make the smart play, so divorce rates will approach more like 40 to 50%
And then there is roughly one on four women that never pairs up.
He also mentions that 80% of women who end up childless do so UNINTENTIONALLY, and only 10% of those are the result of medical issues.
Furthermore, the ones then up being left on the shelf, are skewed more towards the high value women that did not secure a husband earlier, and are now less physically attractive, closer to the age at which being childless is normal, and probably are heavily invested in their work or career, so it is not advantageous for a man to commit to her fully.
In short, these are the cold hard numbers, and while exceptions exist, they are even rarer than the 1%of “power-couples” that supposedly exist on the planet.
Personally, I never settled on the things that mattered to me, and although it’s far from scientific, if I use this calculator, the chances of finding a woman that fit my criteria when I first met my now wife were in the region of 0.4%. Interestingly enough, my own calculations at the time, before this online calculator existed, placed the chances of me meeting the ideal woman at quite a bit lower than that, because I also had a minimum IQ requirement, that while not hard-fixed, still needed to meet a certain level of intellectual ability that is really quite rare among women.
And that figure did not really change in those things that mattered to me about her, but by the time we did get together, slightly over a decade after we first met, I had relaxed on one point, if it was for a woman that fit the other criteria that mattered to me, and using the same calculator the value had changed to roughly 0.8%, which means it doubled, but was still below 1%.
From her perspective I think she is somewhat atypical because although they counted, the things that most women probably place high on the list were not as important to her, so on the female delusion calculator, she was probably looking for someone that externally was probably relatively “easy” to find when compared to most female delusions, and she was probably at the 2% or even 4% mark in terms of the externals she wanted, however, she is a rather complicated woman, and even if I dare say so myself, I think the internal qualities that she looked for, coupled with the ones she would swear blind at the time she did not want or need, but in fact both wanted and needed, probably means the number of men she would actually end up staying with permanently is, honestly, less than 0.1%. Frankly I doubt if it’s 0.01%, but we’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.
Add to this the fact that we both had a considerable amount of baggage, both practical as well as historical, and the chances of things working out well for us, by all indications that apparently make a difference, was kind of like some of those absurdly unlikely propositions in the stupidest and most unrealistic action adventure films. You know, the sniper shot that hit exactly the right button from 5k away in a high wind, at night.
In short, Luke blowing up the Death Star is quite literally much, much, much, easier than my wife and I having worked out, given the train-loads of “red flags” that conventional wisdom would allocate to each one of us separately and then a few more train loads if considered together.
And yet… here we are. And this is why I always say that our relationship has often reminded me of the ending of the Mel Gibson film Payback.
From my perspective, I did get the woman I wanted, but… probably at least a decade later than would have been ideal. From her perspective, she would probably make unkind but funny comments about how she doesn’t know how to use morse code to signal a need for a special ops team to extract her, but if she doesn’t turn up late at my death bed, (no chance if she has to get herself to a hospital in time. If I am dying at home, perhaps she might make it, assuming she doesn’t get distracted by making the tea just right, a shiny reflection in the window, or ordering a gadget that just came out for rescuing shrikes from bullfrogs) and assuming I last another 50 years or so to give her “perspective” she would probably confess, to my ears only, that she got the man she wanted too. If I croak first though, she would spend the rest of her days regretting not shouting it from the rooftops. She’s English. They are weird that way.
The point is that anyone that would plan their chances at blissful marriage based on our parameters is at best retarded, and quite possibly clinically insane. And I really am not joking. So, although, yes, the heart wants what it wants, I STRONGLY recommend teaching your heart to be quite a bit more reasonable and practical. Especially if you are a woman, because while for the decade or so between 20 and 30 you very often can take your pick of men if you are moderately intelligent and good looking, if you do not curb your delusions of what you “deserve” in the next decade, between 30 and 40, you will find yourself being used and discarded with increasing frequency, and have a more than 1 in 4 chance of ending up alone and childless. And probably another 1 in 4 chance of being with child/ren but perennially “single”, if you consider serial relationships as not being permanent, because… well, they aren’t, are they.
Do not be fooled by the illusions. Films, TV, the Internet. Do the cold, emotionless, hard numbers, ladies. That middle aged guy who doesn’t look like Brad Pitt and is not a millionaire, but is kind and handy around the house and actually loves you? It may make a lot of sense to love him right back and make it good. After all, to a great big level, love is a choice.
On the aim of life
So, this is turning into a loooooong back and forth between me and Adam Piggott, concerning the aims of a man.
It was all prompted by a post Adam did based on an email he received from what was obviously a rather depressed guy. Adam has forwarded my post to him too. You can go to this post of mine and read the link on it to catch up if you had no idea what I am talking about.
Adam has since responded by a further post here.
And what has become clear to me is that there is a kind of communication gap, which I feel I am mostly responsible for as it is not a new thing.
I have a tendency to see something that to me is obvious but tends to be clearly less so to others, and so I will try to explain it from my perspective but invariably miss some apparently crucial bit of information that would allow the normal humans to understand my perspective.
Because it is not usually clear to me why so many others don’t see perspectives that are obvious to me, it tends to lead me to be more verbose in my writing than is probably good or necessary. Which also irritates me no end, yet if I write just what I think is necessary it comes across as mystical haikus by an insane person to most people. So I try to cover as many of the possible gaps as I can in the hope to transmit the crucial aspects that differentiate my view from that of most people. And it’s all mostly futile.
Nevertheless, it is good for me to practice trying to communicate better with the species of humanoids found on this planet, so here goes:
Succinctly, Adam effectively says:
I’ll let him say if I have in any way misrepresented him.
My points instead are:
I mean, the very paragraph where I explain this is taken by Adam to mean I am somehow contradicting myself, which I find astonishing, since it’s a clarifying statement of my critique.
As for “doing things” and leaving a mark before you get the girl, sure, that is generally how it works out, but it’s wrong to think that is how you motivate yourself. The motivation is the other way round. You want the girl? So become someone worthy of whatever fantasy girl you have in your head.
That aside, the example Adam picked to possibly act as some evidence against my perspective is far from perfect since apparently the individual concerned may have worked as a male escort, and in any case was already known to police, and was a diagnosed schizophrenic. So not exactly your common incel. Frankly I find him irrelevant to the topic at hand.
Nor, did I say the man should try and get his dreamgirl before making something of himself. I simply stated that the motivation to make something of himself will not come from telling him to buckle down and carry on unloved and unknown and unsought for in his crushing loneliness for years before he can even think of getting into a relationship. Which essentially is what Adam’s advice boiled down to.
My whole point was that as a motivator, imagining who that woman might be and using that image as a motivator to get you to make something of yourself is far more effective even if you remain just as single and alone for the same length of time described above as years.
Lastly, while I accept that this is Adam’s and probably most people’s perspective on the matter, it is not strictly a fact that if you meet the right girl when you have not yet made your mark in the world you will either be in constant anxiety at the thought she might leave you, and/or that she would. The first serious girlfriend I had lasted 13 years and I had no mark to be made yet and very little money and I had left home with all I owned packed into a car to get as far from my parents as I could. My “fame” at that point was limited to the fact I was unafraid to get into physical fights regardless of numbers against me. That was really about it. In any case I never had any anxiety about being dumped, and in fact I was not. Ultimately it was me that walked away from that relationship.
I also find his statement that
Becoming worthy is conquering the world, which means making a man of yourself.
Rather telling and also amusing. I certainly never had to “make” a man of myself. I was born male and that is really all there was to it.
I have always been thoroughly unconcerned with the perspective of needing to be thought of as “manly” or “being a man” or such concepts. The simple reality is that I was born male, will live every second of my life as male and will die as a male. It is simply a fact. The obsession the Anglos tend to have with being thought of as “a man” is rather telling and a little Shakespearean. In a “the lady doth protest too much” kind of way.
And if one is that way inclined, that is, to worry about being perceived as, or needing to somehow become a man, then, yeah, I am sure one of the many neuroses such people have will certainly extend to the fear of their girlfriend leaving them. And I can see that manifesting too.
Which brings me full circle back to the depressed guy as well as Adam’s ending point about being “fixated” on finding a woman and that being wrong because it would determine the success or failure of your entire life, while it (the finding of the woman) not being entirely in your control.
There is, from my perspective, quite a bit of bad logic there.
Firstly, one could argue that being able to find the right woman and reproducing with her, for the majority of people, is the real measure of success or failure of your life. Unless you are Nikola Tesla, from any one man’s perspective, your line dying out with you is unlikely to improve mankind. There are always exceptions of course, but as a rule most people think their way and their thoughts would be best and thus, procreating and furthering such is a pivotal aspect of life. It is truly few who intentionally choose to not get married and not have children. Priests are among them. Most other men would consider it a failure at life.
Secondly, I don’t see the looking for the right person to make a family with as being a fixation at all. At least no more than I see breathing as a fixation. I hardly ever consciously think about breathing, yet it is absolutely necessary and I do it all day every day. In short, you can go about your day and do what needs doing and still be breathing, or looking for the right woman.
Thirdly, as I said at the start of my critique, the point is that there really is someone right for you out there, no matter what kind of freak you are. Obviously making yourself as appealing as possible, helps your chances, but even the misshapen, unfortunate gargoyles of life have someone out there that will love them. Knowing this is no more an obsession or a fixation than knowing that one day you will die.
Fourthly, not having something be entirely in your control is a far cry from having no control over it at all. Potentially any number of women I was with could have been suitable or “good enough” to make a life with. Regardless of that, due to my character (which may be seen as unfortunate by many, perhaps) I had certain requirements in a prospective mate that are very probably unreasonable. And yet, eventually, I did indeed find possible suitable candidates, and ultimately, even the precisely right one for me. And if someone like me can do it, believe me, most people can do it, but… you do need to apply yourself. In my experience of life, those men who focus on making money or a career and so on, in turn to eventually, get the dreamgirl, rarely accomplish it. It like guys who work like slaves for 40 years to get to retirement only to find their pension is worthless and you’re out of time and energy to even know what you wanted to do in the first place. The guy who goes through life naturally and who is always on the lookout for the right person, the way one might be on the lookout for a red Pontiac firebird, tends to more readily find it, and he’s usually less obsessive about it than the guy who wants to make a man of himself first, in order to later get the girl.
All of this simply to say that despairing at one’s loneliness and current state of the world, is not the way. And when a person confesses their despair in such a matter, the correct way to advise them, is hardly to double down on their need to be harsher on themselves and their already harsh (and erroneous) perception of the world. The way to motivate them to see the light is to remind them that one day, they will meet that woman, and they can approach life from the perspective that whatever unpleasant task you need to do today, is fine, because it advances you a little further along the path of when you do meet her, and perhaps also in terms of your material well-being.
That’s really the only point I made.
And now you see why writing is a love-hate thing for me.
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By G | 16 April 2024 | Posted in Relationships, Social Commentary