Saturday, August 23, 2014

Being Mr. Darcy

There are times when I realize precisely how very fucking little men even bother to try to understand women. Want proof? How about the Jane Austen classic romance novel (and satire, if you're inclined to believe the feminists and the lit geeks) Pride and Prejudice.

Pride and Prejudice is basically a weapons manual that explains how to unlock the full power of the human pussy. Or a story of social moorings and love blooming in the face of initial rejection. But really it's a how-to guide for getting women wet, and that's why it's lasted more than 200 years.

Pride and Prejudice is a parallel story about two relationships, but there is literally not a woman on earth who gives a fuck about anything except the one relationship. The relationship that gets women wet for a 200-year-old fuck fantasy is between Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Lizzy meets Mr. Darcy at a social gathering and he pretty much treats her like dirt. In fact, that's the entire theme of the book. Mr. Darcy basically calls her an unfuckable pig in polite, early 19th Century terms. Again and again and again. Even when he fuckin' proposes to her he tells her that's she's "reprehensible" and pretty much a worthless and unfuckable lump of unwanted carbon and water.

Here's the real punchline: women fucking worship this novel. I've read reviews of Pride and Prejudice that actually lament that men don't read it! The crux of such reviews is basically that men would know how to romance a girl if they read Pride and Prejudice.

A reminder: Pride and Prejudice puts the worst of PUA game to fucking shame for its raw and hateful view of women. Lizzy is treated like dogshit even at the high points of her relationship with Mr. Darcy. He constantly explains to her again and again and again what a seriously unfuckable manbearpig she is. And the more he does it, the more swoon-worthy he becomes to her.

Of course he goes off and does manly things. Hell, he even does nice things. And then he turns around and pretty much says, "There ya go, you worthless, unfuckable pig on two legs."

Being Mr. Darcy

I've been called Mr. Darcy on multiple occasions by women. I tend to find that a bit funny for two reasons.

One is my raw and abiding hatred for 19th Century English romance novels. I cannot express how very fucking much I'd like to desecrate the graves of the Bronte sisters. I hated 11th grade English for the specific reason that between Bobby Burns and Jane Eyre that I became convinced there was zero redeeming value to anything literary that had floated over from the British Isles. Thankfully, we did Shakespeare in 10th grade at my school, so he managed to be quarantined from the shit mess of terrible English lit that followed him. Seriously, folks, once men stopped wearing bloomers, writing in Britain went to hell.

Two is that I'm not an insulting guy at all. I'm just distant and difficult and more than a tad inaccessible. When I read Mr. Darcy, I just don't see much of myself there. He's an overtly offensive human being and very direct in his rejections. That's not me. I just leave everything in a very information-poor environment, where a chick is never going to really know anything of whether I may or may not like her.

I have, however, gotten the Mr. Darcy comment (compliment?) often enough that I know that it's salient at least to those women who dig that. Probably the biggest kick I ever got out of it was when a chick who was a couple years younger than me (I'm 36 these days . . . fuck I'm old) made the Mr. Darcy comment and really acted like she had simply said the most novel thing that anyone had ever uttered. She crashed down pretty hard when I told her that lots of women said it, and that first chick I recalled saying it to me was just out high school. (For reference, the Mr. Darcy remark didn't start appearing until I learned some game in my 30s.)

Mr. Darcy has classic push-pull jerkboy game going for him. I suspect that he's someone who'd be considered autistic spectrum these days. He has socioeconomic status, treats everyone at parties like shit . . . UNTIL!!! . . . after having been criticized by Lizzy he decides to play nice for no readily apparent fucking reason. Of course, despite having repeatedly called Lizzy the most worthless pig that ever stuck her snout in a trough to hog down some slops, Mr. Darcy slowly takes an interest in Lizzy.

Yup . . . Pride and Prejudice is basically the worst form of girl porn possible. It's the core "I'm so worthless but somehow a handsome stranger with some bank suddenly takes an interest in me despite my clear and present worthlessness" fantasy that pervades all good pussy-wetting novels. Total bullshit, of course. I mean, a guy can be a bit bit distant and perhaps take an interest you. I know that from personal experience. And a guy can warm up to you. But, if he's treating you like dogshit from day one and clearly stating that he wouldn't fuck you with a ten-foot pole, then there's no hope.

What Mr. Darcy really teaches us, from a game perspective, is the importance of engagement. Women don't care what vile shit you say to them. They just care that you're interested and present. In fact, constantly trashing them while remaining engaged is an intoxicating mix.

Not Being Mr. Darcy

As I mentioned, I don't see myself as Mr. Darcy. My approach to women is to never give them anything to hang their hopes on, good or bad. I like to watch women swing helpless in the wind, hoping that I'll somehow wake up from my disinterest. I'm typically friendly enough that they don't feel hated, but I'm also unengaged enough that they don't feel like they're the object of any of my fantasies.

The worst part about me is that I can like a chick and then completely forget about her. I can remember this one girl who worked at the grocery store deli that I regularly go to. Pretty girl but with a lot of slightly off features that certainly could feed into a low sense of self-esteem, especially in girl world. Small-chested, skinny, a bit lanky and awkward, a bit of an over-bite, a bit drowsy-eyed . . . but a very pretty girl. In fact, the type that modern modeling agencies love to find. She was always very enthusiastic when she saw saw me. I liked her, but the impression never stuck with me. Every time I saw her I was kind of taken aback, because I always managed to completely forget about her.

The one day I managed to run into her at the deli on an off-day. She was there as a customer. And I could see her instantly go into "oh-shit-oh-shit, dammit, play it cool" mode when she spotted me.

A normal and sane person would of course take this as his opportunity to pipe up. And she was giving every indicate of interest. Looking then looking away. Play with her hair. Adjusting her outfit. For her, this was clearly game time. The barrier of the counter was removed. The limitations of talk to a customer were removed. I could easily tell that she thought that this was her big chance.

I am of course not a sane or stable person. Watching a woman squirm and start to hate herself because I don't engage her the way she wants is precisely what gets me off. I have a weird gift for timing things well across long distances to ensure that I extract maximum torture value out of ignoring a chick. In that spirit, I managed to run into her again at the check out line, and she set to trying to show interest again. I, of course, once again ignored her.

Needless to say, the next time I saw her at the deli counter, she was less-than-enthused.

Perhaps I'm a covert Mr. Darcy

The one thing I will say is that it rarely matters what you do or do not say to a woman. What matters is how you make her feel. In that regard, perhaps the Mr. Darcy tag applies better than I'd like to admit. I'm very good at making a woman feel like dogshit. I just do it in a much more subtle fashion.

It's a very weird form of passive aggression. Trust me, I get that. The thing is, if you really want a woman to feel like dirt, you can't mistreat her. That just doesn't work, as Mr. Darcy proves in Pride and Prejudice. Women are typically submissive and emotionally enslaved by nature, and they'll take whatever scraps of attention they can get from a guy if he finds them attractive. You'll watch women kiss a guy's ass no matter how filthy he treats -- you can break a woman's eye socket and she'll love you simply because of how powerful your feelings are. Your raw anger makes her feel better about herself, even if you leave her looking like she went through a car wreck.

What really drags a woman down is nothing. Just pure nothing. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Just fucking nothing. Nothing to latch onto. Nothing to hang her hopes on. No hatred. No love. No interest. Not even on the radar screen. Treat her like a complete non-entity.

It occurs to me that the Mr. Darcy characterization is an attempt to rehabilitate me from being Captain Nothing. It's like doing auto body work on a really rusted out panel. If you had any goddamned sense, you'd just replace it, but . . . instead you put a mesh over it, apply filler and make it work. Build it up, prime it, paint it, wax it and make that fucker look like new.

That's what I think women are trying to do with me when they drop the Mr. Darcy remark on me. They're using the jerkboy template to fill the big, rusty gap between what I want (to kill their souls by keeping them tethered to a hopeless attraction to a guy who gives them nothing) and what they want. They jam Mr. Darcy in there because it gives them something to hang their hopes on. After all, that's what the Mr. Darcy archetype is all about -- the sexiness of just hoping and willing an attractive man of means into fucking you.

I probably should just learn to take it as a compliment, but it just runs so fucking counter to what impels me.

Saturday, July 19, 2014


I haven't posted for a while. Figured I'd drop by to let anyone who reads this stuff know that I'm still alive.

I haven't posted largely because where I'm at in life right now defies being put into this format. Not seriously dating -- no worries there, I'm still more than emotionally unplugged enough that there isn't going to be a sudden "OMFG" moment where my life changes. I'm debating whether and how I want to post what's going on. Until I resolve that debate, there's likely not going to be much to post.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Gender difference

Something I've been trying for quite a while to try to figure out how to communicate to other people is the idea that while I believe in gender differences, and I may even be more than a tad sexist, I don't feel that women are inferior to men. The thing is . . . I feel like the difference between men and women is radical enough in human beings that you can't treat men vs women as an apples-to-apples comparison. And I think I've largely come up with an apt and rather labored metaphor for explaining it.

Think of the relative intelligence of a crow versus an octopus. Both are pretty goddamned clever animals. But they're also very different and very adapted to specific purposes. A crow is not inferior to an octopus or vice versa. Even if you wanted to prove the point, they're just so radically different as to defy comparison.

Men and women are adapted to different purposes. For whatever reasons, evolution has made humans one of the species where there are very obvious differences between the two genders. Those adaptations make men and women different enough that you can't meaningfully ask them to be or do the similar things and expect similar results.

None of that is bad in itself. Someone does need to take risks. Someone does need to raise their hand and ask, "Does anyone else think this might be a stupid idea?" Yin and yang are wonderful things.

A great deal of social engineering effort has been committed to changing the dynamic between men and women as genders. And not only has it largely been to no avail, I think you can argue that feminism has largely backfired on those who wished for greater equality. While the sexual revolution provided gains that shouldn't be reversed (trust me, I ain't livin in a world without birth control!) it also did almost nothing to ding the basic dynamic of submissive women seeking male mates who are dominant. If anything, by pacifying the weaker and more middling males, it only accentuated the gap between aggressive men and non-aggressive men.

But here's the thing . . . reflect on other social engineering projects. For example, look at the painfully slow process of freeing black folks in America. For good or ill, the dynamic between white folks and black folks in America changed. In fact, the dynamic of race changed so radically that whole groups who never appeared in America, such as South Asians, are here now.

Whatever you think of racial social engineering projects, you cannot deny that they radically changed the dynamic. Once you did away with the presumption of white dominance, black submission was thrown out the window pretty hard -- even in the face of rather violent blowback, first in the form of counter-demonstrations and killings in the 60s, and later in the form of tacit oppression through the use of the police in the 80s and 90s.

Conversely, social engineering and awareness as applied to gender doesn't seem to have done a hell of a lot. In the last decade especially, it appears that women are openly drifting back toward submission. The only thing that feminism and sexual revolution really did was afford women a larger window of opportunity for seeking a mate. The actual idealized mate that women choose has not meaningfully changed. He's still basically 6'2" tall, white, 180 lbs, educated, aggressive, successful. If you took the image of Christian Grey, packed him in a time machine, and sent him back to 1950, the lady folk of the time would have no issue hitting on him.

Where racial social engineering projects have yielded massive changes within a limited time, gender-based social engineering has simply moved the existing dynamic into a larger playing field. While the results of feminism aren't going away, it's quite clear that a fourth-wave form of feminism isn't coming. Women have largely cherry picked the victories that they like (birth control, working in their 20s, starting families late) while casting aside the things they don't care for (actual equality). They've essentially leveraged feminism in order to play a long version of the game as it existed before birth control. But at the end of the day, it's still the same game.

That's not a good thing or a bad thing. Evolution is agnostic. Evolution don't give a fuck. But it's important to realize that gender differences are significant enough that social engineering not only doesn't seem to change them, but it appears to have actually amplified them.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

The core difference between men and women

For women life is something that happens to them.

For men -- and here I mean the 20% or so who are dominant men, but those are the only men who count as men as far as women are concerned -- life is something that they make happen.

It's a fine difference, but it lens out into a major difference with time and repetition due the rewards of aggression. If you wait for life to happen to you, you are unlikely to accrue any wins beyond those that nature blesses you with due to biology. You can cheat a little here and there, but at the end of the equation small cheats don't accrue wins.

Ultimately this is why dominant men run the world.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Good advice from a PUA blog

The money quote . . .

A girl by herself does not care if you are an inspiring writer, or want to travel the world.  But, she would love to show off to her  friends what an ambitious, reach-for-the-stars kind of guy you are.

I haven't posted much lately, but this reminded me of a first date experience I had recently. I'm a big believer in salsa dancing as a first date. To start with, even if your data flakes on you, you're going to an event that's going to be like 70% female. It shows culture, sexiness, a willingness to engage in fun activities. Salsa dancing is killer. (Also, I'm an NFL-size white guy who people tend to incorrectly peg as kinda of conservative, so it tends to just blow the doors of assumptions.)

Anyhoo . . . my last real first date I went on a couple weeks ago I took salsa dancing. Needless to say, yeah, I closed that deal. But that's not the point of this post.

One of the first things my date did after we finalized our plans was to post it repeatedly on her Facebook wall. Straight up "hah! bitches! I gots me a man to take me salsa dancin so fucks youz!!!" type post. OK, not that loud, but in girl logic, bombing your friends with the great shit a guy does for you is pretty much always a polite way of screaming "ha bitches!"

It's good advice to model yourself into something that she can show off to her friends. I'm not wild about a lot of the PUA advice out there, but it's important to realize that women prefer their male partners to be success objects that they can exhibit to their friends in the form of "ha bitches!"

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Sorry for the slow posting

I've actually been off having too much work and too many adventures to really post. Not much has changed in my worldview from those adventures, but a few have reinforced some attitudes that I already had.

When I get a chance, I shall try to fire those up.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

I should rename the blog

I think we should start calling the blog "Ragefest for Bitches Who're Angry About Guys Being Mean to Them and Are Going to Yell at the Aloof Guy Since That Sexy, Distant Guy They're Pining for Stopped Returning Her Texts".

OMFG, ladies . . . please . . . shut . . . the fuck . . . up.

I get it. You're going to say a bunch of mean shit to me because I made you haz a sad by telling you the truth about men being mean to you.

Seriously, if you have nothing valid to contribute but your own rage and your desire to put me in my place by telling me that I'm a nice little boy who you'd chew up and spit out, please, please consider giving your vibrator one more hit and then curling up with your cat while reading 50 Shades for the fifth time in a year.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

2014 state of the blog

I never imagined that this blog would attract any attention. Much of my reasoning for writing what I write is to just barf it out there. So I'm always mildly amused, impressed, and weirded out when other people try to make sense of it.

I figure the blog's been up a while, and it might be worth going over some thoughts about where it's at now . . . here goes . . .

So many female readers

If there's one thing that disturbs me most, it's that this blog attracts a largely female readership. Nothing here is written from a female perspective or for a female audience. So the only reasonable answer I can imagine for why that might be is that a lot of women have a taste for angry, distant men that treat them like shit. Not that that's a particularly novel discovery, but it never quite ceases to amaze me.

Upset female readers

When I say this, I'm mostly referring to this post: Why are men so aloof and mean to the the girls they love?

One thing that really pisses me off about the female readership of this blog is that they're not looking for any real insights into dealing with a real relationship. They're just hoping that someone will hand them a quick trick for unlocking some aloof guy who they wanna bang.

It's disappointing. As this blog goes along, it becomes more and more a cautionary tale.

Except that begs the question, "Who the fuck am I bothering to caution?"

It's not like women want to be cautioned. When a chick wants to fuck a guy -- and especially when she wants to unlock an aloof guy and fuck him -- all bets are off. Women complain that men only have enough blood to operate their brain or their dick at any one time, but I've seen little evidence that women are any better. Guys may get stupid for more random girls, but when women get stupid for a specific guy it's pretty goddamned scary compared to how guys are.

I do wish they'd take some time to appreciate that it's not my job to help them better embrace their own pathology.

What the hell are the male reader doing?

This blog may be written from a male perspective, but I honestly have no fucking clue what most of the male readers are up to.

My anger toward women who've been in my life

It never fails to astonish me how little women hold men accountable. For that matter, how little accountability figures into anything that women do when they like a guy. Sometimes I'm just thankful that I'm more of an avoidant than a sociopath, because I could leave behind a serious trail of wreckage if I were so inclined.

It's depressing because there comes a point where you simply realize that women serve no policing function in their own sex lives. They just don't give a fuck. If they want the guy, there's no limit to where they'll allow the game to go. It makes it hard, as a man, to look at women with any level of respect at all. Women simply don't take ownership of their sex lives or their relationships in any form.

If everything in your world lands at my doorstep, then please be aware that I consider the people who put those things at my doorstep to be complete pieces of shit. It is not possible to respect a person who doesn't take ownership of their own life. By definition, that means that it is not possible to respect the overwhelming majority of adult women.

Everything in a relationship stops with how a woman feels toward a guy on a sexual level. If he keeps her in a terrible emotional state, but she's still aroused by him, then nothing else matters. Frankly, it makes it very hard to see women as anything except the suppliers of a warm hole.

Mind you, outside the relationship arena I believe women have immense value. There are whole industries that I believe should be turned completely over to women (banking, in particular). Successful female leaders are generally of greater value to society than successful male leaders. Competent women are very useful creatures.

Just . . . for the love of gawd I wish the female sexual response worked in a manner more conducive to modern living.

My own aloofness

I would like to say it has improved. It hasn't. It's gotten worse.

I cannot bring myself to take the idea of a meaningful, long-term relationship with a woman seriously. Honestly? At this point in my life I find women so unbelievably laughable that I cannot picture allowing one to stake claim to half of my shit or have any say in how I go about my life. I have no clue why anyone would allow that to happen to themselves.

To be blunt, women are highly interchangeable. I could easily count on one hand the number of women I've known who I even remotely think were worth my time.

In truth, I simply do not get what the value proposition is supposed to be. What the hell use is a woman in a man's personal life? Why would any man want a relationship? I just don't see it. You're welcome to answer those questions in the comments.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

How to please your aloof man?

Saw this one in the search logs and just had to answer it . . .

You can't. An avoidant person craves distance. Pleasing them isn't going to please them.