The Surrogate Boyfriend

From a soon-to-be-unplugged 30Darren from the SoSuave forum:

I made a big mistake and got involved with a coworker. We dated for a little about a year ago but it never went far. Never slept with her. We became close friends though. We would hang out, Go to movie, Get dinner go for drinks and just hang out. We always talked even late with text and everything. I liked her a lot and she seemed comfortable with me.

I guess i felt i always had a chance with her because when we hung out she always flirted with me and having sex with each other seemed to be the topic we most talked about. She even mentioned shooting a porno with me. I don’t know if it was just mind games or if she was serious. Right now i don’t know what i was thinking, i should of let actions speak louder than words. But i really felt for her so i grasped on anything that made me feel like she was interested in me. This went on for about 8 months.

We had up and downs. I’m not completely stupid, there were times where i was trying to leave her alone and let each other move on but then she would get this increased interest in me and id fall back in line. I would leave her alone when she would have her little flings but eventually she would gravitate towards me again.

This week was a crazy week though. We went out had she took something i said completely the wrong way. We decided to give each other space (which i did) but then she was all over again when i gave her no attention. She started telling everyone i was her best-friend and then when we went out for drinks with co-workers she started calling me her Man. I didn’t play into and give that too much attention because i felt it wasn’t real. Two days later she is completely ready to end it with me. Said she was blocking my number from her phone and to not expect to hear from her again. she said it was “time for her to spend energy talking to a guy she actually likes more than just friends and that she’s not attracted to me and cant force herself to be, good-bye”. Ill admit. That really hurt. So abrupt and harsh. And remember i work with her.. What am i to do and how do i act. Is it a power game or is this is.

Women have Girlfriends and Boyfriends. If you’re not fucking her, you’re her Girlfriend.

One of the more heinous crimes inflicted upon the men of Generation AFC is the curse of the Emotional Tampon. Hapless Betas being cast into the role of perpetually having to be “supportive” and emotionally available for a woman he’s enamored with all in an effort to prove himself the ideal boyfriend is an 80’s Brat Pack movie plot cliché now. Oh, if only she could see past the hot jock jerks and find the true love that’s been here all along,…swoon,…

Typically when I read classics like this it’s on the high school forum at SoSuave, and for good reason; usually all it takes is one or two passes at this experience for young men to come to an understanding that they’re being manipulated. As we progress through adolescence and into early adulthood (if all goes as it should) there are a series of valuable learning experiences that teach us (albeit harshly) a mature adult set of social skills. This is generally where I begin when I assess particular intergender situations – are the participants using an adolescent social skill set? Has some factor retarded this maturation (such as premature monogamy, or a stubborn clinging to Disneyesque ideals) into an adult social skill set?

What makes Darren’s situation interesting is the pseudo-relationship he’s entertained with this girl for 8 months. For all the shit slinging about Three Strikes or the sex never being worth the wait for a Wait for It girl, it amazes me how readily and willing a majority of Beta men will be to entertain a sexless, quasi-monogamy. I’d like to blame the girl for her playing along, but I can’t – she’s only doing what women do when they pursue their pluralistic mating strategy. Don’t blame the Doberman for eating the juicy steak. It’s Darren’s failure to consolidate, and consolidate early, on ratcheting up his sexual interest in the girl that’s the primary issue.

In addition, Darren still doesn’t want to acknowledge that he never had a relationship with her, instead wondering if her ‘abrupt'(?) rejection is some kind of power game, and hoping against hope that he can salvage a monogamy that only existed in his head. What his part really amounts to is a Buffer against the very real rejection he could potentially experience by putting himself out into the real world by spinning plates. The longer her perpetuates his pseudo-relationship, the longer he forestalls having to face potential rejection.

The Surrogate

Darren was playing surrogate boyfriend, voluntarily accepting and internalizing all of the responsibilities and accountabilities of being a woman’s exclusive, monogamous partner with no expectation of reciprocating intimacy or sexuality. It is the ideal situation for a woman in the same manner a Booty Call is for a man – all sex with no expectations of monogamy, commitment or emotional investment.

You essentially become a surrogate boyfriend for her – fulfilling all the emotional availability and security needs the Jerk isn’t providing with no expectation of reciprocating intimacy on her part.

How Cruel?

From the standpoint of a guy who’s aware he’s become a surrogate boyfriend, and those who can objectively see that he is, it seem incredibly manipulative and deliberate for a woman to put a guy whom she knows has a definite interest level for her into that role. I would argue that, more often than not, a woman doing so has done so repeatedly in the past so often that it becomes normalized for her.

Is she aware of it?

On some level of consciousness perhaps, but it’s comfortable for her to do so because she’s unable to have both her emotional / security needs paired with her physical needs in the same guy. So her coping mechanism is to entertain a Nice Guy (sometimes multiple Nice Guys) from whom she gets emotional support and a security response from, while wallowing in the physical rush and the resulting drama caused by the Jerk. I go into this splitting of needs in Schedules of Mating:

There are methods and social contrivances women have used for centuries to ensure that the best male’s genes are selected and secured with the best male provisioning she’s capable of attracting. Ideally the best Man should exemplify both, but rarely do the two exist in the same male (particularly these days) so in the interest of achieving her biological imperative, and prompted by an innate need for security, the feminine as a whole had to develop social conventions and methodologies (which change as her environment and personal conditions do) to effect this.

Maintaining a series of surrogate boyfriends is one of the most directly observable manifestations of women sexual pluralism.

Women get off on perfecting a gestalt boyfriend from both the Nice Guy and the Jerk, but relatively few are aware of it, and among those who are, even fewer will expressly admit to it. They’ll quite happily allow a surrogate to continue in his qualifying himself to her in his efforts to “be a good listener” and “be there for her” until such a time as he grows frustrated and he becomes a liability in his own right, or a liability to her Jerk sex / drama interest. The hot guy who uses her up and leaves her on the bed wanting more will always take precedence over the emotional surrogate because they’re so easily attracted and entertained.

The Bitter Taste of the Red Pill

A lot gets made of the Dark Triad or the Dark Side of Game where a skillful player can sadistically use his newly learned red-pill super powers for evil instead of for the greater good of mankind. Game-aware women – the ones who have been forcibly exhausted of all pretense of maintaing the illusion that Game is a lie – feel as though it’s owed to them, in their concession of Game’s reality, that Men should use Game to women’s benefit. Even to the last effort women still cling to the tools of a feminized acculturation;

“Yeah, OK, you got us, Game is really what women want, hypergamy is the law of womankind, but now it’s your responsibility that you use it for the better benefit of society by molding a new breed of improved Betas to accommodate fem-centric monogamy. You owe us our security for having admitted to the grand illusion that’s kept you in thrall for so long.”

It’s an indictment of Game-aware women, and sympathizing men, that they should feel a need to delineate some aspects of Game into good camps (pro woman, pro feminized monogamy) and bad camps (manipulative, polygynous, male-centered). Even in the admission of the truth that Game has enlightened Men of, the feminine imperative still seeks to categorize the application of Game to its own end. That Men might have some means of access to their own sexual strategy is too terrible a Threat; Game must be colored good or bad as it concerns the imperatives of women and a fem-centric societal norm.

As the default, socially correct and virtuous concern, women have an easier time of this. As Game becomes increasingly more difficult to deny or misdirect for the feminine, the natural next step in accepting it becomes qualifying its acceptable uses. While hypergamy is an ugly truth, the characterization of it becomes “just how women are” –an unfortunate legacy of their evolution. However for Men, the characterizations of the harsher aspects of Game in its rawest form  (contingencies for hypergamy) are dubbed “the dark arts”.

Myth of the Dark Arts

According to common definition, the Dark Triad is a group of three personality traits: narcissism, Machiavellianism and psychopathy, all of which are interpersonally aversive. Depending upon context, that may be a convenient assessment of a sociopathic personality, but it is hardly an accurate assessment of Game as a whole. In its desperation to come to terms with a more widespread acceptance of Game, the feminine imperative had to make some effort to disuade the common man (see Beta) from embracing the means to his release from the feminine Matrix. Associating Game with Dark Triad personality traits makes this qualification process much easier, since the feminine imperative owns the definition authority of what is social and what is anti-social.

The problem then becomes one of defining what acceptable use of Game is social and anti-social. Predictably Game-accepting women will want to cast Game into terms that suit them individually and accommodating for their own personal conditions as well as the priorities of their particular phase of life. However, because of such diverse conditions, consequently there is a lot of disagreement amongst Game-accepting women about what contextually constitutes appropriate use, thus a pick-and-pull form of rationalization about aspects of Game gets thrown about in their internal debates.

For feminized men this is a very confusing debate. It’s difficult enough for them to accept that women love Jerks (despite being told the contrary for half their lives by women), but for the Game-accepting women they still think are ‘quality’ it’s a bitter pill to swallow when these women debate the aspects of acceptable, lovable Jerk-like qualities and the evil, user, manipulative, ‘dark art’ Jerk that only contextually misaligns with their present conditions and priorities. For both the plugged-in and the freshly unplugged this is an incongruency that they have a tough time reconciling against the ideals of moralism that a fem-centric society has unwittingly convinced them of.

While a broader understanding of hypergamy and Game make for useful tools for enlightened single men, the Game-accepting Beta plug-in will still see it strictly as a means to satisfying the female imperative – long-term provisional monogamy. Any deviation from this narrative, any guy using Game for personal gain, personal pleasure or to enact his own sexual strategy is guilty of crimes against (feminized) society. Since the societal Greater Good has been defined by the feminine imperative, anything counter to it is definitively evil, counterproductive, anti-social and manipulative sociopathy.

The Bitter Taste of the Red Pill

The truth will set you free, but it doesn’t make truth hurt any less, nor does it make truth any prettier, and it certainly doesn’t absolve you of the responsibilities that truth requires. One of the biggest obstacles guys face in unplugging is accepting the hard truths that Game forces upon them. Among these is bearing the burden of realizing what you’ve been conditioned to believe for so long were comfortable ideals and loving expectations are really liabilities. Call them lies if you want, but there’s a certain hopeless nihilism that accompanies categorizing what really amounts to a system that you are now cut away from. It is not that you’re hopeless, it’s that you lack the insight at this point to see that you can create hope in a new system – one in which you have more direct control over.

There are no “Dark Arts”, this is simply one last desperate effort of the feminine imperative to drag you back into the Matrix. There is only Game and the degree to which you accept it and are comfortable in using it in the context that YOU define. If that context is under the auspices of a mutually beneficial, mutually loving, mutually respecting LTR monogamy of YOUR choosing, know that it’s the fundaments of Game that are at the root of its success or failure. If that context is in terms of spinning multiple plates, liberating the affections of women from other men, and enjoying a love life based on your personal satisfactions, also understand that it lives and dies based on your understanding the fundaments of Game.

Just as Alpha is not inherently nobel or deplorable, Game is neither inherently good nor evil – the Devil is in the details and whomever’s defined context in which you use it. In the introduction section of the 48 Laws of Power, author Robert Greene explains the same about power. Power is neither good nor evil, it simply is, and your capacity to use power, your comfort in using it, doesn’t invalidate the principles of power. Likewise, your discomfort or inability to accept those principles does not excuse you from the consequence of having that power used upon you.

The unwritten, 49th Law of Power, is denying the utility of power itself, or demonizing its use both moralistically and socially. With the wide dispersion of Game theory this has been the reactionary tact of the feminine imperative; appeal to the deeply conditioned moral, ethical, honorable, virtuous ideals engrammatically planted in men by a fem-centric society, while redefining the acceptable use of the same Game the imperative demonizes for its own purposes.

Hear Me Now, Believe Me Later

One of the most common lamentations I read in the manosphere usually goes something like this,…

“Where the hell was all this info and wisdom when I was single? I so wish I’d discovered the manosphere / red pill before I proposed / had kids / got divorced / got burned by listening to what my girlfriend said / was younger,..etc. etc.”

It’s even more of a shame because so often it’s guys in what should be the prime of their SMV who relate this. I wish I had a better response than “better late than never.”

Blunt Force Trauma

Unplugging is difficult enough in and of itself, but realizing and accepting that your previous mindset might not be entirely accurate is a hard conversation to have with yourself. It’s unfortunate that experience teaches harsh, but teaches best. However, I’ve found it much healthier to accept that, like the majority of  men, we don’t want to come to terms with  our faults and inaccuracies in mindset until we’re shaken awake by a trauma sufficient enough to break us down.

Religion has long realized that the best opportunity for conversion is when a person is at a low point in their life. Depending upon the intentions of the person doing the converting this can be a good or a bad thing, but what they’re seizing upon is a point at which we’re the most receptive to influence because we’re earnestly reconsidering our beliefs in light of some failure or tragedy. Perhaps unfortunately, it’s a state of the human condition that we learn better from our failures than our successes.

This is due to painful experiences making a more profound impact on our psyche’s and memories than pleasurable ones. While the birth of my child and my wedding day were pleasurable, benchmark memories, I learned less from them than when I finally tore myself away from the neurotic BPD woman I’d been a voluntary prisoner of for years. It’s been written into our brains to learn from pain. It was a selected-for survival trait that corrected us when we were repeatedly making the same fatal errors. The things that are important to us as evolving beings are associated with what we most vividly remember.

Patience

So, it’s with this in mind that I came to learn to have patience with men who were diametrically opposed to what I offer as positively masculine enlightenment here. Over the years on the SoSuave forum I gradually made friends of formerly hostile opponents for no other reason than patiently awaiting their having an experience that validated some principle  or behavior I was trying to relate to them. Former critics (JOPHIL, R.I.P.) became fantastic friends once they’d experienced first hand the dynamic I was describing. All it took was a bit of patience, and a consistent, cogent explanation of idea.

I’ve stated in the past that unplugging chumps from the Matrix is dirty work, akin to triage; save the ones you can and read last rites to the terminal. However it’s equally important not to casually NEXT a guy that could be unplugged once he’s been made brutally aware of the system that’s keeping him trapped. Often enough it’s his lack of traumatic experience combined with an extensive conditioning that’s holding him back from really understanding a Game-aware perspective. He’s not an asshole, he simply hasn’t had the experience that would make him reconsider his perspective.

In the same respect that I feel relationships based on negotiated desire are disingenuous, I also believe that coercing someone else to see my perspective is not a valid expression of genuine desire. I cannot make a person believe what I do, I can only present my belief to them. A person, man or woman, has to come to that genuine change of their own volition. I’m not interested in a readership full of yes-men clones; there needs to be challenges in perspective for a marketplace of ideas to thrive. I encourage people to tell me I’m wrong, because if my ideas can’t weather open scrutiny then they aren’t strong enough ideas to profess.

I don’t want to unplug robots from the Matrix just to make them robots of my own perspective. I may be guilty of a tough-love approach by a well needed kick in the ass to understand the reality of what a guy may be going through in that moment, but I know that a real shift in understanding comes not from force, but from a person determining that shift for themselves. Jarring a person awake isn’t the same as attacking them personally.

So at the end of all this I want to encourage all of my Game-aware readers not to give up too readily on the guys they may think are hopeless. In fact I’d suggest that the guys you know who are the most hostile to your perspective are the ones who’ll more readily accept and understand your wanting to make them Game-aware. Their fervency in the Matrix is only a short trip to fervency in positive masculinity if you’re patient enough. All these guys are just one traumatic experience away from grasping the truth of Game.

Rationalism in the Matrix

It would appear that I mixed up the proverbial shit pot with last week’s The Gift of Anxiety post, which was itself a response to another post on another blog’s response to yet another post made by your humble author here. If it sounds like a tangled mess, just know that it’s happened before. For my readers, I feel apologies are due, because I think this blog’s purpose deserves more than to be dragged down by the petty machinations of fem-centric Matrix-speak; and particularly the variety that censors any rational challenges to its venerable vulnerable ideologies.

If you find fault in my having even entertained a response to this, well, I can’t say as I blame you. If I’m guilty of anything it was in attempting to logically reddress what amounts to a brick wall of socially reinforced fem-centric ideology that by definition has no margin for any critical analysis of it.

Reader BJ’s comment:

RT, you’re engaging with an emotionally charged being in an analytical argument, a battle whose W.O.M.D are the very tools which make you a man, logic and reasoning, for which there are no comparable counter measures.

However it was reader Höllenhund who really brought this home for me:

By the way, older, experienced MRAs have stated that it’s completely pointless to try to have a rational debate with women about these issues. They’ll always get angry or react in some other irrational way, and you can bet white knights will immediately come to their defense. It’s a waste of time. As Alte said, “if you have a rational argument, take it to the men”.

Guilty as charged, but if there was any benefit to this clusterfuck of idealism vs. censorship it brought to light the necessity to protect the social system that is the feminine Matrix.

Censoring for Affirmation

Reader Umslopogaas wrote an interesting post in reference to just this dynamic that inspired an awareness in me. The feminine social Matrix is a system that was built upon, and depended upon an older social paradigm that never accounted for a globalized connectivity. If men becoming aware of their true SMV was a primary Threat to that system, then the rise of social media and global connectivity was its facilitator. For men, the Meta Game and true unplugging began as a result of meta-connectivity and the free exchange of observations and ideas that followed.

Although I think it’s a bit of a dramatic stretch to compare Aunt Giggles’ censorship with the Gestapo, I do think there’s another, more apt comparison – that of religious figures’ censorship.

The rise of social media has inspired a more open means of discourse in previously closed social arenas. Nowhere is that more obvious than in religious / theological debate. Where in previous times a religious leader’s ‘inspired insight’ was closed to interpretation or discussion, now they must be prepared to defend their position online to the global consortium of the internet.

This globalized marketplace of ideas doesn’t make for a comfortable environment for people with an absolutist mindset used to receiving constant praise, if not acquiescent silence. Now, courtesy of blogs, social media, and the general connectivity of the internet people can voice their criticisms of ideas that, in a ‘real time’ social setting, they would never dream of initiating out of repressed courtesy or fear of ostracization.

For those unaccustomed to a contrary position in their ego-invested beliefs, this proves a to be a challenge. To remain effective in their message they must stay contemporary and use the ‘voice of the age’ – in this case social media – however they also must entertain the risk that some dissenting voice will call them to the carpet on their perspectives. The inherent problem with this is that it necessitates a critical insight that may conflict with that ego-invested belief.

For religious leaders this is a very tough trade off: Posting your sermon on your blog to reach the massess is simply good marketing, and implies certainty in the relevance of that message and/or idea. However the strength of that message must stand up to public scrutiny for it to be considered a strong theory, assertion or  perspective. The same holds true for the religion of the fem-centric society.

Since the apex of feminization in the 90’s, fem-centrism has taken its social positions as articles of faith. It just is because it always has been, and no one questions its purpose or validity. Old ideologies die hard, but are the ones most tenaciously clung to by those whose livelihoods depend on the old paradigms to endure. To preserve this system in the face of a building volume of social critique, a degree of dissociation has to be instituted. Thus we have the professors and pastors of previously unchallenged ideologies selectively filter out conflicting ideas, thus recreating the echo chambers they were accustomed to under the old paradigm, or take the lazy way out and simply brook no audience for any feedback by turning off anyone’s ability to comment on their ideas.

People who have questions don’t frighten me. People who have no questions scare the shit out of me.

The Code in the Matrix

“You get used to it. I don’t even see the code anymore, all I see is blonde, redhead, brunette,..”

One of the premier posts I wrote for this blog was about women’s propensity to give men advice that is completely counter to anything in men’s interests. The prey does not teach the hunter how better to catch it. Essentially the ‘chick advice’ dynamic is a meta-shit test meant to filter for the guys who ‘get it’ on their own (despite deliberately countermanding female advice) and those who need to be told ‘how to get it’.

I think I addressed this dynamic fairly well (and here too), but every so often I’ll be made aware of an article in which a woman attempts to ‘enlighten’ men not only about how better to achieve success with their sex in general, but also to disabuse themselves of the “myths” they believe men subscribe to that hinder them from a more complete understanding of women. Never mind that dating “success’ to the feminine mind always involves a committed fem-centric monogamy, while men’s definition usually involves lingerie and KY jelly. What’s telling in these particular articles is women’s attempt to explain social dynamics from a male perspective while still defending the social conventions that serve their gender interest. It’s a very entertaining read for the unplugged man – like seeing the code in the Matrix.

The longer you’ve been unplugged from fem-centrism the more sensitive you become to registering the nuances it employs to keep you in doubt of it. However the comedy of it is of the black and tragic sort when you realize how long you yourself subscribed to such now-obvious tropes and flimsy rationales in an effort to identify with women to get laid.

With very few notable exceptions, all women are by default plugged into the girl-world perspective with very little motivation to see past the pre-established constructs that serve them so well. So it’s almost comical to read women encouraging men to retake the blue pill and plug themselves back into their perspective.

Marni Kynris’ Wing Woman article is a mercifully brief example of this. (For the record, no woman will ever be your willing wingwoman, the sisterhood forbids it).

OK, lets run this down point by point then:

Women have baggage, too, especially the attractive ones.

Translation: “I’m fat. In fact at least 66% of my sisters are, or will become overweight too. My BMI is well above the norm and I don’t have the motivation or self-discipline to trim down in order to compete with the physically superior women men are naturally more aroused by. So in order to compete in this realm I need to disqualify these competitors by advising men steer clear of them (and give us fat women a fighting chance) by perpetuating the ‘hot girl = dumb/damaged’ archetype.”

Just because a woman is hot does not mean that her life is perfect

Perhaps, but if she’s fat, you can see she’s less than perfect. Newsflash: Men aren’t looking for perfect women. We’re looking for hot, sexually available women with the baseline of a workable personality.

Women prefer personality to looks.

Translation: “The ratio on which women place the importance of personality to looks is directly proportional to their depreciating ability to draw and maintain consistent male sexual attention. So make sure you focus on staying a nice, safe, sweet and dependable guy, making about six figures and be a little confident about it when you hit 35. When I can no longer hold the sexual interests of the douchebags, criminals and sociopaths who make me hot, it’ll be your ‘personality‘ that finally wins me over.”

Women DO NOT like bad boys.

Translation: “Look, there are far more ‘Plain Janes’ and chubbies in the world than men would ever realistically settle for if they knew any better, and we can’t allow men to think that Alpha Bad Boys are the only demographic hooking up with hot (i.e. desirable) women, so we’re going to appeal to your introvert insecurities and silly notions of chivalry and tell you that even Mr. Nice Guy still has a chance with us. We innately crave being sexually dominated by an Alpha badass (even when he’s incarcerated for murder), but that doesn’t mean we don’t also crave being able to ‘tame the savage beast’. We need the Alpha to inseminate us, and we need the Beta cuckold to provide for us; it takes a constant effort to keep you unaware of this.”

There’s no “right” line, but there’s a right way to say it.

Translation: “When it comes to communication, women care less about content, and more about context. It’s not the information that’s important, it’s the way we ‘feel’ when you deliver it. But please, do go on believing that women are completely rational agents, perfectly capable of relying on deductive reasoning.”

Women want to be approached, as long as it’s by the right person.

Translation: “If you’re cute/hot, you’re the right person. If not, you’re a sexual predator. If I’m attracted to you it’s an office romance, if I’m not it’s sexual harassment.”

Women want you to respect them, not admire them.

Translation: “So be sure you’re respecting us, not admiring us when you’re looking at the millions of our self-shots. Remember, were doing this to garner respect, not admiration.”

It’s difficult to be unplugged and know that you’re living in a society literally immersed in fem-centrism. You’re sensitive to it, you can see the underpinnings of why the canards exist and the utility of the social convention for the feminine imperative, but you know that even in drawing attention to them you risk ridicule and ostracization. That’s the scope of the feminine Matrix.

This is just one, easy to disassemble article written by what I’m sure was a well-meaning author, but think about how fem-centrism permeates just your small, localized social circle. How many times have you overheard your female ‘friends’, coworkers and plugged in men you know prattle off some variation of one of Marni’s gender appropriate aphorisms I detailed above?

The Threat

Nothing is more threatening yet simultaneously attractive to a woman than a man who is aware of his own value to women.

My use of the word “threat” here isn’t to imply malice. I’m sure more simplistic associations with violence or conflict is the natural one, but a “threat” is a challenge – how one deals with it is what’s at issue. As I stated in the Three Strikes thread,

Women’s sexual strategy is very schizophrenic – ideally women want a Man that other women want to fuck, but in order to assess his sexual market value to other women he’s got to have exercisable options for her to compete against, or at least display indirect social proof to that effect. So, she needs to limit his options while simultaneously determining he has those options.

This internal conflict between a want for security and provisioning, and a need for the ‘gina tingles that only the excitement indignation, drama and Alpha dominance can stimulate is the fundamental root for women’s shit tests. From Plate Theory VI:

Essentially a shit test is used by women to determine one, or a combination of these factors:

a.) Confidence – first and foremost
b.) Options – is this guy really into me because I’m ‘special’ or am I his only option?
c.) Security – is this guy capable of providing me with long term security?

Women’s shit testing is a psychologically evolved, hard-wired survival mechanism. Women will shit test men as autonomously and subconsciously as a men will stare at a woman’s big boobs. They cannot help it, and often enough, just like men staring at a nice rack or a great ass, even when they’re aware of doing it they’ll still do it. Men want to verify sexual availability to the same degree women want to verify a masculine dominance / confidence.

For a woman, to encounter a man with a healthy awareness of his own value to women, this constitutes a threat. Here is a man for whom’s attention women will demonstrably compete for, AND he knows this. This is the most basic affront to the feminine imperative; to be unplugged, of high SMP value and to derive confidence from it. Therefore, in order to actualize her own sexual strategy, his self-confidence MUST be put into self-doubt, because if such a man were to use this knowledge to his own benefit he may not select her from a pool of better prospective women. Thus she must ask “Are you really sure of yourself? You think you’re so great? Maybe you’re just egotist? Don’t tempt fate.”

In this example we can see the conflict inherent in women’s sexual strategy; she wants the Alpha dominance of a confident Man, but not so confident that he can exercise his options with other women well enough to make an accurate estimation of her own SMV.

Ambiguity in men’s assessment of a woman’s true sexual market value is the primary tool of the feminine imperative.

The same characteristics that give him his confidence and acknowledged sense of worth are exactly the same things that women want to be associated with. Even the most controlling, domineering wife still wants to tell her friends that the AFC she married is a “real Man”, and even after privately berating him, will defend him as such because anything less is a reflection on her own self-image. She wants to be with a Man that other men want to be, and other women want to fuck, because it confirms for her that she’s of an equal or higher value to attract such a Man.

Women don’t want a man to cheat, but they love a Man who could cheat.

That is the threat and the attraction. Women want a Man that has confidence in his own value; that’s sexy, but the more he self-realizes this the greater the anxiety is that she’ll be found wanting as he better understands his options. So it becomes necessary to develop social contrivances that are standardized across the feminine gender that limit the full recognition of masculine self-value. Thus masculinity is ridiculed, men become characterized as slaves to their sexuality, and masculinity becomes doubted by virtue of itself. In a global sense, the feminine imperative relies on the same ambiguity women will individually employ to confuse the efforts of men to assess their true SMV. By means of social conventions, psychologically force him to doubt his own SMV and women become the arbiters of it.

Race to Awareness

Because of women’s relatively short window of peak sexual viability it is imperative that men be as unaware of their slower, but progressively increasing SMV for as long as possible in order for them to achieve the prime directive of female hypergamy; realize the best genetic options and the best provisioning options she has the capacity to attract in that peak window. If Men become aware of their SMV before a woman can consolidate on her options with monogamous commitment her sexual strategy is defeated.

The mistake (and the binary retort) is to think this need for contrivances was concocted in whole as some grand sisterhood conspiracy. This just proves an ignorance of social constructs. For a social contrivance to be such, it necessitates being repeated by society WITHOUT a formal conception – meaning we learn the contrivance from seeing it, internalizing it and repeating it ourselves without forethought. The best social contrivances are inconspicuous and rarely questioned because they’ve been learned without having been formally taught. This is why I think encouraging men NOT to bother trying to understand women is in itself a social convention. Don’t look at that man behind the curtain, just accept it for what it is, enjoy the show, you’re better off that way, the Mighty Oz has spoken.

This is the threat that Game represents to the feminine imperative. Widely shared, objective assessments of Men’s SMV and how it develops is the antithesis of the female sexual strategy. Women’s greatest fear is that they could become the ‘selected’ instead of the ‘selectors’.

Last Rites for Joseph

Unplugging chumps from the Matrix is a lot like triage – save the ones you can, read last rites to the dying.

It’s one thing to be an Omega Male, but quite another to be an internationally recognized, Omega-gone-viral. Joseph Dobbie’s epic email has circulated around the world for 6 years now. I actually wrote a response to this on SoSuave when it first surfaced, and since that time I’ve always held it in esteem as the seminal work on the epitome of Omega-tude. In 2006 I wasn’t formally using terms like “Omega”, but on some level of consciousness I think I instinctually knew this degree of Beta Game crossed a line. It transgressed into something beyond Beta – this is the grey area of sincere belief in Disney-esque idealizations of not only women, but circumstances destined by fate, and the border of unhealthy social retardation (i.e. the creepy effect).

Defining the qualities of being Alpha is an exercise in subjectivity, but Beta pretty much reeks of Beta; you know it when you see it. Men who’s beliefs and behaviors drop them into the Omega tier of hell kind of blur the distinction between Beta and social / mental autism. So in the interests of better clarity on this distinction I submit for my esteemed colleague’s critical review, verbatim and unedited, Joseph Dobbie’s immortal classic, Lady of the Cake:

To: Kate Winsall
Subject: Lady of the cake

Hello Kate,

It?s joe – we met at Andrew?s party.

I hope you don?t mind me getting your e-mail address from the e-mail
that Andy sent to us all; it is a bit sneaky of me.

It was wonderful to meet you on Saturday, and I wonder if you would
consider meeting me for coffee sometime; maybe at the Tate Modern?

OK. This is where my common sense is telling me to stop? keep it simple
and positive joe.

And the probability of me listening to that voice? Experience has taught
me that it is not worth putting up a fight; I will end up giving in to
the part of me that never wants to find itself shaking its head and
muttering ?if only?’

This is the part where I throw caution to the wind; the part where I
listen to my heart and remember that I should live my life as an exultation and
revel in the opportunity to try; the part where I refuse to apologize

for who I am; the part where I trust that the lady I met on Saturday
night is, as I suspect, able to see sincerity where others would see
clich .

I am fortunate enough to have been able to collect a number of special
memories. They are memories of moments that made any struggle leading up
to them worthwhile. They are memories of moments when I am struck by
something so beautiful, time stands still and all of the ugliness in the
world ceases to exist.

Your smile is the freshest of my special memories.

Regardless of whether we see each other again, I will use it as I do my
other special memories. I will call on it when I am disheartened or low.
I will hold it in my heart when I need inspiration. I will keep it with
me for moments when I need to find a smile of my own.

I am unsure of all my motives for sharing this with you and, if I am
honest, not ready to examine them too closely. However, I know that it
makes me feel good to believe that maybe, if you are ever upset, knowing
that I will be keeping your smile alive might help you through.

If you are half as intelligent and aware as I believe you to be, I am
sure that you will find what I have written, in the very least, sweet.

If I am twice as lucky as I would dare to hope, you will find this note
charming and agree to contact me and arrange a date.

Either way, I trust that your reply will be candid – you told me how
much you value honesty.

One last thing, I promise that it is enormously rare for me to stray as
far from sobriety as I managed on Saturday night.

Be safe.
Joe

This reads like a Hallmark “Special Moments” abortion splattering Emo effluvia indiscriminately on any who could get past reading the first 3 ‘stanzas’.

In the interests of science, lets see if I can save the patient,..and maybe the patient is you?

Lady of the cake? Who the fuck are you, Percival? I realize AFCs think chivalry isn’t dead, and that women secretly want, and appreciate it. I have news for you, they’re the ones who killed it and all you do is telegraph your beta-ness to the 1% of the female population who would actually understand what you’re alluding to here. Relax KingArthur.

Hello Kate,It?s joe – we met at Andrew?s party.I hope you don?t mind me getting your e-mail address from the e-mail
that Andy sent to us all; it is a bit sneaky of me.

Translation: It’s me Joe, the chump who stared at you across the room for the better part of the night unable to muster even the rudimentary courage needed to ask you out, so I’m using this Buffer called email to blunt the potential for real rejection that I was too petrified to risk at the party last Saturday.

Her: Note to self – Kill Andrew for not blind copying his group emails.

It was wonderful to meet you on Saturday, and I wonder if you would consider meeting me for coffee sometime; maybe at the Tate Modern?

Translation: I use terms like ‘wonderful’ in order to telegraph my already overt interest in qualifying for your intimacy because I haven’t even the basic understanding that women prefer covert communications. So I wouldn’t want you to have any doubt about my intent, even though I copy/pasted your email from Andy’s group send. Perhaps we can meet for coffee at Tate Modern so I can show you how much I can identify with the feminine sophisticated I am in my appreciation for fine art? Oh what the hell, I’ll just show you now by writing you a sonnet,..

OK. This is where my common sense is telling me to stop? keep it simple and positive joe.And the probability of me listening to that voice? Experience has taughtme that it is not worth putting up a fight; I will end up giving in tothe part of me that never wants to find itself shaking its head andmuttering ?if only?’This is the part where I throw caution to the wind; the part where I
listen

to my heart and remember that I should live my life as an exultation and
revel in the opportunity to try; the part where I refuse to apologize
for who I am; the part where I trust that the lady I met on Saturday
night is, as I suspect, able to see sincerity where others would see
clich .

I am fortunate enough to have been able to collect a number of special
memories. They are memories of moments that made any struggle leading up
to them worthwhile. They are memories of moments when I am struck by
something so beautiful, time stands still and all of the ugliness in the
world ceases to exist.

Your smile is the freshest of my special memories.

Her: What was your name again?

Regardless of whether we see each other again, I will use it as I do my other special memories.

Translation: I’ll be masturbating to visions of you in my head – like all my special memories.

I will call on it when I am disheartened or low. I will hold it in my heart when I need inspiration. I will keep it with me for moments when I need to find a smile of my own.

Translation: I am so desperate for sex, and am such an Omega male that the pedestal I’m putting you on was reserved for Christ the Messiah. Congratulations, you’re my new religion, and only after having met you once at a party – it must be destiny.

I am unsure of all my motives for sharing this with you and, if I am honest, not ready to examine them too closely. However, I know that it makes me feel good to believe that maybe, if you are ever upset, knowing that I will be keeping your smile alive might help you through.

Translation: I would really like to get laid, but since I don’t want you to think I’m like “other guys” who only want to fuck you I’ll sweep that under the rug and desexualize myself to steer you away from that thought. Instead, contemplate how reliable, familiar and comforting I’ll be (like a stuffed animal) as your potential boyfriend, again, so unique and unlike those “other guys” who just want to fuck you.

If you are half as intelligent and aware as I believe you to be, I am
sure that you will find what I have written, in the very least, sweet.

Her: So essentially a woman half as intelligent would fill the same poetic role you’ve sickeningly cast me into after casually meeting me at Andy’s party. I swear I’ll kill that bastard.

If I am twice as lucky as I would dare to hope, you will find this note charming and agree to contact me and arrange a date.

Translation: In case you are only half as intelligent and aware as I hope, let me explain for you how you’re supposed to react to my quasi-marriage proposal – you should think I’m charming and shouldn’t give me the rejection I never risked in person last Saturday.

Either way, I trust that your reply will be candid – you told me how much you value honesty.

Translation: Lord, please, say yes. You said you liked art, poetry and appreciated honesty (like every other girl on Match.com) in a guy, haven’t I identified and qualified myself with you for your approval?

One last thing, I promise that it is enormously rare for me to stray as far from sobriety as I managed on Saturday night.

Translation: I swear I wont be an alcoholic when we’re married.

Be safe.
Translation: I’m safe

I’m sorry, we’ve done everything we could, this patient is terminal, call the Deacon to read last rites.
Time of death,..

The Death of Rollo Tomassi

Rollo,  I’m only 17 (soon to be 18..) but I am looking for some wise advice from some older men..

Anyway, I am in my Senior year of high school and throughout it all I have slacked off completely. I am actually half a credit behind, in order for me to graduate in June. I am just barely scraping by. I have not taken any foreign language courses so I am very unlikely college/university bound.

For these past 4 years I have been obsessed with the idea of becoming a rockstar. I have been playing bass since I was little, I am very good from what people tell me and I have talent, but anytime I get a band going it becomes a failure.. I really don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere in life. My friend (who is also the guitarist in my “band”) wants to go to music school up in Hollywood which would help us out a lot, and maybe even find more/better musicians.. but I do not come from a very wealthy family. This school is just like the cost for a university, and I don’t think they give loans to these kind of schools.. even if they did. There’s no guarantee I could even make a living afterwards. My mom has been pushing me to go to graphics art school, which is what I wanted to do for awhile, but I don’t think I can make it because of my grades.. and to be honest, I really don’t feel like that is what I want to do with the rest of my life. So not only am I in my last year of HS and have no idea what I’m going to do.. I’m so far deep in a hole that even if I choose to do something it would be impossible to get there. I just feel really hopeless right now.

Have you ever been in my situation and got out of it? Can I still be successful?

After reading your initial post I feel like I’m typing this response back to my 19 y.o. self because over 20 years ago I WAS you. So please bear with me by reading this carefully.

In 1987, at 19, I wanted nothing more for my life than to be in a band. I’d actually learned this from the time I was 14 when I discovered that just by saying I was in a band and had long hair girls would be more interested in me. I muddled my way through a big inner-city high school in L.A. as a C student just doing what was necessary to get passable grades since this was a hinderance to what I wanted to do – be in a band. Notice I didn’t say “be a musician”; the music had to be good and rock hard of course, but it was the status and social proof that came from being a band member and the effect this had on girls that really prompted the desire.

I didn’t know how to play a guitar and I literally stole my first guitar. I HAD to learn how to play it. I’d always been a very creative kid, I acted in drama, and I could write well, but my true, natural, God-given gift was my ability to draw and paint. I loved guitar as well, but it never came to me naturally, I had to want to do it and to this day I still study and practice it because I want to be good at it.

By the time I’d graduated, I’d had my first real girlfriend and my first ugly AFC break up. I had no direction to my life and my very passive aggressive, and masculinity-deficient AFC father had never had the interest to guide me or prepare me as an adult. He too was more interested in securing a nominal supply of pussy than be a father, but in all honsety his father before him was kind of whipped too. So I went and did what any metal-head kid in the late 80’s would do, I joined a band.

I worked at a music store in L.A., not because I was trying to live the dream, but because I had to have a job and go to community college to rent what was my own room for 18 years with my dad and his ’empowered’ 2nd wife. I met up with a LOT of musicians, but back then you didn’t have to be a good guitarist, you had to be a guitar god (which I wasn’t), so I joined a band and played bass. I stole a bass and I “borrowed’ long term a good amp and some other equipment to play. To my surprise the bands I played in became very popular in the Hollywood metal scene, but I certainly wasn’t playing for the money – because there was none. In fact we payed to play more than we actually made money. No, it was the top shelf ass I was pulling every time I played that kept me going at it. I loved the scene. The music was great and it was a new adventure every weekend we played. I bought a motorcycle and would literally roll up to gigs with my bass in a gig bag slung over my back.

I lived the minor league Hollywood rock star fantasy for about 4 years. Eventually I got good enough at guitar to play as a studio musician and do session work. I played on TV several times as a hired guitarist for up and coming solo acts. I played in about 4 original projects, 2 of which were openers for national acts. My hair was blonde, down to my ass and I was rail thin (I did start bodybuilding at this time though). All of this was going on and I was getting into networking with L.A. producers, just looking for an opening to get on with a national act, until I met her,…

Lucifer’s Daughter

I didn’t meet Lucifer’s daughter at a gig, I met her in the community college bookstore; you know, the place chumps tell you is the best for meeting ‘quality women’. I still had my education to entertain in order to get what was basically a free ride at home and I met her buying books for a semester. She was a ‘good’ girl, but hot as hell – close to an HB 9 by my high standards of that time. I had to actually work to get with her. I took her out on real “dates” rather than banging her the night we met like the girls in a club as I was used to. Nothing prepared me for the living hell of an LTR I had with her. Once I’d locked into a monogamous relationship with her the party was over. The band I was in disintigrated and she was so insanely jealous of my previous fuck buddies that I didn’t even consider looking for another band to join. I was a prisoner of hers. She went off to a university and I played the good sacrificial savior. My life was ruined because of this woman. In actuality I was trapped in her borderline personality disorder (BPD) cycle and associated myself as being the source of her problem.

After a 4 year psychotic episode of an LTR I was a shadow of what I was previously. She had a degree and was moving on, I had shit. At 26 I was ruined. After this I decided it was time to grow the fuck up and do what I needed to do, but I was starting over with absolutely nothing. I started using my real talents, I got into commercial design and became a successful art director for multi-million dollar companies and only later, at 32 did I get my BFA and Psych degree. My wife and daughter had to pay the price for my lack of foresight and earlier decisions.

I did well for myself once I’d made that cross over to real adulthood. There was no manosphere then and no men I knew who could open my eyes to anything. I had to come to terms with the direction I’d let my life go. I still play guitar and I’ve been in 3 bands since then, but I play now because I love to play, not becasue I get payed or laid. I use my real, natural gifts to pay the mortgage. I write, I’ve played the lead role in MacBeth in theatre, I use my artisitic talents everyday in my work, I do video and web work, I’ve done peer counseling, I lift weights and I’ve been a B class competitive fencer all in this time. All that and so much more.

You have to live your life. Life is a process of doing. I can sit here and type and everyone else can too, but it’s ultimately you who’s going to do what you will. You’ll still probably get into the scene no matter what us mature men will tell you. I WAS you. My advice is to grow yourself up now rather than later. You can be independent, you can live on your own, but ask yourself what are your real gifts and talents? How can you best enhance them? College? You CAN go to college if you want. The thing I lacked at 19 was this insight and the courage to act on it. I wanted pussy and I got it, but I was unprepared to deal with being an AFC in the long term.

I had to kill the old Rollo Tomassi after my hell relationship. He needed killing.