I've long had a theory that the whole internet-based men's movement that loosely ties together pick-up arts, men's rights advocates, angry neckbeards, and right-wing "Red Pill" politicos in disguise is ultimately unified by a single thread: autism.
More than anything, I think this entire zeitgeist is driven by autistic individuals coming to the realization that human existence is inherently manipulative. Anyone who works with autistic people in therapeutic situation will tell you that arriving at some understanding that human beings are manipulative is one of the big steps forward that an autistic individual can take.
Where I think thinks turn poisonous in the discussion among these guys is that it tends to be a bit of a half-realization that ends up being exceedingly self-soothing and self-serving. Rather than making the full leap to the concept that, "OK, they're manipulative, I'm manipulative, everyone's manipulative," they tend to lean on the crutch of "women are manipulative because they think its fun, and men are manipulative because women's behavior forces us to be that way."
That's an incredibly childish take on the problem. Even allowing for the idea that women might be more manipulative, there are strong evolutionary reasons why that might be the case. For example, if half of the members of your species are going to have a size and strength advantage against you, it's probably worth your time to develop an asymmetric advantage in order to fucking survive.
Beyond that, it's an astonishingly victim-centered view of oneself to feel that only one of other group of human beings are evil monsters who make you do something that you'd otherwise not do. Exceedingly immature, and worse the political right-wing element that's fostering the men's movement on the internet is leveraging this on a daily basis.
Worse, let's just be honest about autism and manipulation. Autistic people are manipulative. They just really, really suck at it. It's not unusual for males of prime reproductive age to get angry about their own inability to acquire a mate, but this particular subset (autistic, male, internet-heavy, prone to blaming others) is so far the fuck out in left field it's unreal.
The fact that you suck at something and therefore don't do it should not be confused with the idea that you wouldn't do it if you could. I may not be the world's greatest jumper, but that doesn't logically lead to the idea that all people who are good at jumping are engaged in an extant conspiracy to prevent me from dunking a basketball. It's just too much of a logical leap.
Making the whole problem worse is that there's a readership-writer feedback loop of validation. The more times a Red Pill blogger uses the term "hypergamy" (which is just the natural tendency of all human beings to seek the best available mate pairing) the more times he's applauded by commenters and readers for pointing how terrible the women folk are. The readers feel validated, and then the writer feels validated, and that all leads to a feedback loop of circlejerk "hooray for us" crap that doesn't help anyone become a better human being.
At some stage you have to make a bigger leap forward. It's not enough to notice the role that the manipulative behavior of others plays in your life. You have to, in order to be healthy human being, understand that all social existence is inherently manipulative. Anyone who's ever watched a baby cry and then check for its mother to respond knows how much of a bedrock principle this is.
The problem is that ultimately, autistic children with underdeveloped manipulation skills tend to develop strong victim mentalities. There's a feeling of being constantly bullied -- even in situations where it's actually just more normal social interaction. The feeling of bullying is validated by the fact that bullies tend to pick up on autistic kids' lack of social skills and target them. That's all understandable, but if you aim to lead a healthy adult life you're going to have to move beyond that.
It's not enough to glare at the rest of the world saying, "I recognize what all you fuckers are doing." Recognition isn't much. I can recognize that I have cancer, but that recognition hardly is going to save my life all by itself. It takes other steps.
The human ego is incredibly defensive and good at insulating itself from attack. A lot of pathologies ultimately start when an individual lays down that first defensive barrier that's so think that reason will not penetrate it.
There has to come a point where a healthy adult makes the effort look out from their defensive position and see a world that might be worth visiting on occasion. Autistic kids are great at building their own little worlds, and they become adults who do a terrible job of leaving their defensive fortifications for very long -- if at all.
The problem is that if you ever aim to have a healthy interaction with a member of the opposite sex, you're going to have to suck it up and move away from the fortifications. There's more to life than simply defending your ego from harm.
Feeding into an internet monoculture where damaged autistic males sit around discussing how evil women are and how we'll all totally show them is pretty much the worst thing you can do. Yes, there are basic realizations that come with the PUA/Red Pill/MRA ideology that are worth discussing and even incorporating into your worldview.
A lot of it is quite useful on a daily basis. You shouldn't go through life being the bottom bitch to everyone you meet. You shouldn't be cloying in your eagerness to please the opposite sex. You should be aware that other people are trying to manipulate you.
There's nothing wrong with any of that, but it's merely a tool kit. You can't allow yourself to become fixated on the minute details of those working to such an extent that you forget to live an actual life. You have to be bothered to do more than just succeed at approaching a couple girls and maybe get a piece of ass.
The horror of it, at least as far as I can see, is that young men are making a monstrosity out of the very thing that they want.
One of the things the Freud got right -- and despite all the point and laugh factor people have with Freud, he got a lot of shit right despite working at the very dawn of time within his profession -- is that objectifying the opposite sex is an act of aggression toward them. To look at women as monsters because they don't offer you the ready supply of happiness and pussy that you expect is an act of aggression. Like most acts of aggression, it arises from a feeling that active defense is better than taking an ass-kickin'.
If all you feel toward the opposite sex is a need to engage in acts of aggression in order to not be caught defending yourself, you need to get your head straight. No one owes you sex. No one owes you happiness. No one owes you the best mate available. You have to make yourself a person worthy of the things that you want.
Villifying the opposite sex as a bunch of mean and manipulative brutes is dumb. Actively seeking to fuck them as a form of revenge for making you feel that way is creepily Freudian.
You really want to live your life being "creepily Freudian"?
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
How quickly a woman can switch tempo when she wants a guy
I was doing a bit of reading -- yes, I've slowed down enough to read this week! -- and came across something discussing the idea that if a woman wants a guy, she won't make him wait. In fact, she'll move mountains to make a piece of ass happen.
This got me to thinking about a specific story.
I have a friend who I like to call the Internet Pimp. For whatever reasons, he's good at online dating. I tried to figure it out once, but I realized that online dating chicks are just the same annoying shit only with more work, lies and distance involved.
Whatever the case, he can pull it off. To a point. Probably his biggest weakness is an unwillingness to commit to a brutally pervish alpha male approach to things, despite the fact that he sure seems to be turning these chicks around on about a two week timeline once he has them properly engaged and pushing toward meeting and sex. He grew up in a very social conservative environment (practicing Catholic, lifelong Republican), so all I can ever guess is that some of his more beta behavior is a self-defense mechanism where he's protecting himself from the truth of his own rather ruthless sexual intentions.
Every so often he manages to get an attractive chick talking. I've seen no evidence that he can close these chicks, but just hooking a non land whale into a convo through an online dating site is in point of fact an accomplishment.
I hang around his place enough that I get mentioned pretty often in these convos in the form of "I have a friend here". Every now and then a rather frisky chick will ask for a pic (yes, single women know no bounds of rudeness). I'm not a fan of this stuff, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to have a few predictable laughs at a chick's expense. This, however, gives rise to one of the more, "Wow, I did not realize how stupid women can be in the pursuit of dick," moments.
He was talking with this chick who works at a federal law enforcement agency in an in-the-field capacity. The friend thing came up, and the pic thing came up, and suffice it to say she went full retard.
She wanted to chat me up a bit, but I took a pass, so he just opted to annoy me on here behalf (did I mention he can do some obnoxiously beta things?). Being who I am, I just blew it off and responded to the questions in pretty much my standard form: treating her like a non-entity, an idiot and a total piece of shit.
Within two hours this evolved into her offering to travel more than two hours at that exact moment. Beyond that, she indicated that she'd use government resources to do it! Apparently she was in a position within law enforcement where she could insinuate herself into local happenings and use that as an excuse to travel on the government's dime whenever she wanted. (Yes, these are the people protecting you.)
Aside from the fact that fucking a federal agent seems like a pretty obvious "no" to me, I thought the whole eagerness to meet factor was creepy as fuck. I'm all for telling women that their behavior is creepy. They don't get told it enough.
She kept pushing the issue, so I finally told him to tell her that if she's that hard up for a piece of ass, I'm sure we could just order her a male prostitute in her area and save her some travel. She tried to laugh it off as impractical and haha, but I noted that wherever there's a federal presence of any size there's definitely going to be prostitutes of all genders and orientations available for ready exploitation.
She took umbrage to this, and he brushed it off as me having a strange sense of humor. (I do, but that's not what this was about. I just don't like encouraging women's creepier tendencies.)
The conversation subsided. Several days later, he saw me and said, "You know that chick asked about you again. She wanted to know how you're doing."
I asked, "What did you tell her?"
He replied, "I told you're my friend, not my kid. I don't keep track of how you're doing."
I'm pretty sure sometimes he engages in these exchanges just for the benefit of taking notes on how I respond to women, because that response seemed like a significant and sudden upgrade for a guy who had recently humored her attempt to bypass him and seek his friend's attentions.
What's funny is that he told me he had been trying to work her over for two months. Further proof that a woman isn't willing to advance toward the finish line, cut her loose.
I, of course being an arrogant bastard, thought the whole thing was funny. He couldn't get her to agree to anything in two months, but all I had to do was treat her like dirt for a little while and she was offering to use government resources to come meet me right away.
That's your ladyfolk for ya. Thoughtful, kind, well-adjusted, decent and capable . . . right up until a mean boy who they want to fuck refuses to give them the attention that they seek. Then they turn into corrupt, dangerous idiots who are willing to commit a federal offense and lose their jobs.
It doesn't paint a reassuring portrait of the fairer sex, but it certainly explains a lot of bullshit.
This got me to thinking about a specific story.
I have a friend who I like to call the Internet Pimp. For whatever reasons, he's good at online dating. I tried to figure it out once, but I realized that online dating chicks are just the same annoying shit only with more work, lies and distance involved.
Whatever the case, he can pull it off. To a point. Probably his biggest weakness is an unwillingness to commit to a brutally pervish alpha male approach to things, despite the fact that he sure seems to be turning these chicks around on about a two week timeline once he has them properly engaged and pushing toward meeting and sex. He grew up in a very social conservative environment (practicing Catholic, lifelong Republican), so all I can ever guess is that some of his more beta behavior is a self-defense mechanism where he's protecting himself from the truth of his own rather ruthless sexual intentions.
Every so often he manages to get an attractive chick talking. I've seen no evidence that he can close these chicks, but just hooking a non land whale into a convo through an online dating site is in point of fact an accomplishment.
I hang around his place enough that I get mentioned pretty often in these convos in the form of "I have a friend here". Every now and then a rather frisky chick will ask for a pic (yes, single women know no bounds of rudeness). I'm not a fan of this stuff, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to have a few predictable laughs at a chick's expense. This, however, gives rise to one of the more, "Wow, I did not realize how stupid women can be in the pursuit of dick," moments.
He was talking with this chick who works at a federal law enforcement agency in an in-the-field capacity. The friend thing came up, and the pic thing came up, and suffice it to say she went full retard.
She wanted to chat me up a bit, but I took a pass, so he just opted to annoy me on here behalf (did I mention he can do some obnoxiously beta things?). Being who I am, I just blew it off and responded to the questions in pretty much my standard form: treating her like a non-entity, an idiot and a total piece of shit.
Within two hours this evolved into her offering to travel more than two hours at that exact moment. Beyond that, she indicated that she'd use government resources to do it! Apparently she was in a position within law enforcement where she could insinuate herself into local happenings and use that as an excuse to travel on the government's dime whenever she wanted. (Yes, these are the people protecting you.)
Aside from the fact that fucking a federal agent seems like a pretty obvious "no" to me, I thought the whole eagerness to meet factor was creepy as fuck. I'm all for telling women that their behavior is creepy. They don't get told it enough.
She kept pushing the issue, so I finally told him to tell her that if she's that hard up for a piece of ass, I'm sure we could just order her a male prostitute in her area and save her some travel. She tried to laugh it off as impractical and haha, but I noted that wherever there's a federal presence of any size there's definitely going to be prostitutes of all genders and orientations available for ready exploitation.
She took umbrage to this, and he brushed it off as me having a strange sense of humor. (I do, but that's not what this was about. I just don't like encouraging women's creepier tendencies.)
The conversation subsided. Several days later, he saw me and said, "You know that chick asked about you again. She wanted to know how you're doing."
I asked, "What did you tell her?"
He replied, "I told you're my friend, not my kid. I don't keep track of how you're doing."
I'm pretty sure sometimes he engages in these exchanges just for the benefit of taking notes on how I respond to women, because that response seemed like a significant and sudden upgrade for a guy who had recently humored her attempt to bypass him and seek his friend's attentions.
What's funny is that he told me he had been trying to work her over for two months. Further proof that a woman isn't willing to advance toward the finish line, cut her loose.
I, of course being an arrogant bastard, thought the whole thing was funny. He couldn't get her to agree to anything in two months, but all I had to do was treat her like dirt for a little while and she was offering to use government resources to come meet me right away.
That's your ladyfolk for ya. Thoughtful, kind, well-adjusted, decent and capable . . . right up until a mean boy who they want to fuck refuses to give them the attention that they seek. Then they turn into corrupt, dangerous idiots who are willing to commit a federal offense and lose their jobs.
It doesn't paint a reassuring portrait of the fairer sex, but it certainly explains a lot of bullshit.
Dropping by to say hello
My apologies to folks who were regular readers. I managed to dig myself pretty deeply into a major math project that's had my attention since the middle of the fall.
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.
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
Howdy
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.
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.
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