From The Spearhead . . .
(Warning: this is a very long post because it deals with a lot of issues which can be very subtle and can’t be done justice in a handful of sound bites.)
Every once in a while we have experiences which allow us to integrate a number of vague observations into a flash of insight. Previously held ideas fall away and are replaced by a new understanding of something which had made no sense to us as long as we held onto our old beliefs. It is that “aha” moment which allows a quantum leap in understanding of a problem or issue and seeing it in an entirely new way. An example often used to illustrate this experience of sudden insight is Sir Issac Newton’s moment when he perceived an apple falling from a tree as “the apple and the earth falling toward each other.”
I had such a moment regarding the topic of sexual relations back in the late 90s. It was not a spontaneous revelation by itself, but rather the culmination of years of dealing with a certain woman and how her behavior eventually forced me to abandon a lot of the beliefs I had once held.
One concept you will see mentioned frequently in the manosphere is the concept of “the narrative.” It is very important for men to understand the narrative and how it has been used by the cultural Marxists to create a belief system which is totally contrary to reality, but is so relentlessly pushed that it actually overrides reality and people’s real experiences. It is at the heart of Political Correctness – what is socially acceptable takes precedence over what is real.
Today we live in a world controlled by the feminist narrative. Feminist theories about the nature of the world and human interactions are ruthlessly enforced through social attack against anyone who dares speak the truth. Most readers here will be familiar with the case of Larry Summers being hounded out of his job as president of Harvard for even daring to suggest that there might be innate differences between men and women. Despite mounting evidence that this is true, it is a truth none dare speak – like “the emperor has no clothes.”
Today men are faced with a situation like seeing a picture of the ice palace in the film “Dr. Zhivago”, while the narrator’s voice-over says something like -
“And the blistering heat and brutal drought continued unabated.”
We see examples of the feminist narrative around us all the time – “men have ‘oppressed’ women for 10,000 years, and now it is payback time”, “gender is just a social construct and women are capable of anything men are, as long as we have affirmative action, reduced standards for women, and a huge body of law and government enforcement on our side”, “women STILL only make 75 cents for every dollar men make, not because of women’s choices, but because the dreaded ‘pay-tree-arc-keeee’ is holding them down.”
One of the best recent examples is the Duke Rape Hoax. The accuser was a stripper, drug addict, child abuser, and later arsonist, who in any sane society would have been considered a low life with zero credibility. But, the narrative of the inherently moral and pure woman, “oppressed” by “privileged” young white males from affluent families, trumped even photographic evidence of one of the accused being somewhere else when the fictitious “rayyyype” supposedly occurred.
False rape accusations depend entirely on a narrative and body of lies which women have worked relentlessly for the past 4 decades to establish and promote – males as the “designated initiators” and females as inherently pure sexless beings who only engage in sex because those dastardly men pressure them into it, and who, of course, would never, NEVER, NEVER lie about it. Males are cast as the villains in the narrative, as the “designated initiator” in any sexual interaction between a male and female – even those cases of adult women statutorily raping boys. Instead of being seen as the targets of sexual predators that they really are, such boys and young men are viewed as “getting lucky” – even in those cases where teenagers are forced to pay child support to their own rapists.
One of my biggest concerns as an MRA is this stereotype of men that we are saddled with as mindless horny beasts in a perpetual state of rut. False accusations are so easy to make against us, and so easy to make stick, because so many many people subscribe to the narrative and are incapable of comprehending that the reality is much different and more nuanced.
More than 30 years ago, feminists escalated their campaign to criminalize male sexuality. Rape on one side and “pornography” on the other became the twin sticks to beat men with for their misfortune of being born with a powerful instinct to be attracted to women. It was the perfect sting operation. The only better way to trap more men would be to somehow make breathing simultaneously shameful and criminal. The crusade by feminists like Andrea Dworkin and Catherine MacKinnon to make laws and the legal system conform to females’ subjective whims started by claiming that porn led directly to rape. Thus, it was justified to suppress porn in order to “protect women” from these horny beasts that the narrative claimed all men were.
Now, 3 decades later, we have Naomi Wolf toeing the feminist party line that porn is bad, but now for the opposite reason – instead of making men have too much desire for women as Dworkin hallucinated, it is now bad because it makes men have too little interest in women. Women are now being harmed by men’s indifference. But, in the hierarchy of atrocities, a crime of omission is seldom considered as bad as a crime of commission.
There were many comments in response to Elusive Wapiti’s recent post, pointing out that it isn’t as much that porn pulls men away from women as it is that women themselves have driven men away from themselves and porn is just a conveniently available substitute. As always, women seek to place the blame outside them themselves and their own choices and behavior, and project it onto men or some vague concept.
It certainly does seem true that women in general just are not capable of grasping cause and effect. And, more than anything else this one phenomenon explains their senses of powerlessness and helplessness. If I understand that something I am doing is bringing about the results that I am getting, either positive or negative, then that gives me the power to adjust my behavior to get the results I want. But, having any power at all requires a sense of responsibility – “What I do affects the results I get, therefor I have power to affect my results by choosing appropriate actions.” But, people who absolute refuse to take any responsibility give up any chance at having power because they then have to change the entire rest of the world, and all the other people in it. Not bloody likely to happen.
I used to believe that women understood this. In fact, I had a very hard time grasping that anyone could be stupid enough to not understand it. If you point a gun at your foot and pull the trigger, you are gong to end up with one badly hurt foot. Don’t want a hurt foot? Then don’t point a gun at it and pull the trigger. Simple, right?
Ah, never underestimate the power of the Rationalization Hamster.
Over the years I have watched woman after women determinedly follow her hamster until it totally screwed up her life, and the lives of a lot of people who were involved with her. Here at the Spearhead you will see story after story about women doing this. Throughout my life I have watched women as they destroyed relationship after relationship, even marriage after marriage, simply by being so self-centered and self absorbed that they just used people up and those people got tired of allowing themselves to be used. And, it would be bad enough if they only screwed up their own lives – but most of them leave the carnage of a debris field a mile wide and a totally scorched earth in their wake. They affect not only their own relationships, but the relationships of people whose lives they touch as well.
This is the story of one such woman. It isn’t about an ex-wife or GF of mine, but about the ex-wife of a buddy of mine – one of the women I detest most among all that I have met. I’ve been wanting to tell this story for a long time, because it cuts across so many of the issues we grapple with here at the Spearhead. What spurred me to get down and write it all out was Elusive Waipiti’s recent post about how the pornification of western culture has affected relationships between men and women. The point I am making is that a man doesn’t even need to be intimately involved with a woman directly in order to get ensnared by “the narrative.”
Chapter 1 –
I’ll call them Dick and Jane. Dick was my best buddy for years and years – close to 25 years in all. We had almost perfectly overlapping interests and hobbies, and really enjoyed spending time together pursuing our mutual interests. We could go into one of our darkrooms at 6 in the evening, and come out at 4 in the morning, and have a sense that almost no time had passed. After the normal string of replaceable girlfriends for men our age in those days, he met Jane and things seemed to be going in the right direction for them.
They got married back in the early 80s and ended up having what people called a “starter marriage”. It lasted about 4 years. She was driven, ambitious, and wanted to make a lot of money. He didn’t need to stop to smell the roses, he considered smelling the roses his full-time occupation and only went to work to make enough money to be able to do that. He was so “laid back” that he made most type Bs look like type As. He had been my buddy for years when they got married, and I stood up with him as his best man.
They didn’t have any kids, so at the fatal 4 year mark, when they couldn’t think of any good reasons to stay married, they didn’t.
After they had separated, but before the divorce was final, he told me she was coming back to stay with him (he got the house, because this was during the killer interest rates period, and the house would have sold for much less than they paid for it.)
“Oh?” I asked. “Yes, she is having a ‘problem with her breasts’ and has to have some surgery, and is going to stay here and I’m going to take care of her after the surgery.” he told me.
(” ‘Problem with her breasts?!?!?!’ OH SHIT! BREAST CANCER!!!!!)
Except, it wasn’t. The first time I saw her after the “surgery”, I saw that the “problem” had been that she had been an A cup, when she wanted to be a C, or at least a B+. After she had moved out again, I confronted him – “Hey, dude, we have been friends for a long time, and I thought close ones. Why did you lie to me about the fact she was getting fake boobs?!?!”
“I didn’t know anything about it until I picked her up from the hospital” he told me. That should have been the first telltale clue about her real personality.
Anyway, the marriage was over at that point. She went west and he went east. I kept in contact with him, and through him heard about her once in a while. It was one of those supposedly very civilized 80s divorces where they parted company with no real hard feelings – it “just didn’t work out.”
Chapter 2 -
About 10 years went by. She got married again, and he lived with a couple of women for short periods. Then, one day I got a call from him. Both of them were going to “happen” to be in town at the same time, and wanted to get together. So, we made arrangements to have dinner and a night on the town together – kind of an “old times” thing. A platonic woman friend of mine went with us and saw right through them, even though I fell for their lie. “They are having an affair” she said. “Nah,” I said, “she’s gotten married again and they managed to divorce without hating each other, so I can understand them remaining friends.”She looked at me with one of those “you are such a sucker” looks.
She was right, and I soon caught them in a lie and confronted them on it, and the whole story came out. Her husband had no interest at all in her sexually, so she had approached her ex (the safest man in the world for her considering the circumstances) about having an affair. He had never gotten over the sense of failure regarding their marriage, and jumped at the chance to “win her back.”
They had been going at it for about 3 months when this took place, and within another month or 2 he had applied for a job transfer to the area where she lived. Since I lived between the 2 locations, he got me to help him move.
I spent a few days hanging out with him after we got there and got the truck unloaded, which also meant hanging out with her a lot. The topic she most wanted to talk about was how bewildered she was that her current husband didn’t want her sexually, in front of the ex-husband who was doing everything the could to “win her back”, including listen to this drivel of her whining about another man.
I felt both a bit sorry for him and a bit disgusted by him – where the hell was his backbone? But, hey, he was a Niceguy™ and thought that if he was nice enough that would turn the tide in his favor. Today I would send him to read Roissy.
The 3 of us ended up going out to eat together most nights that I was there. I have no idea what she told her husband about where she was (or if he even cared, which I was beginning to suspect he might not) but she was spending almost every evening with my buddy, and since we had once been friends in the habit of doing things together we fell right back into that pattern. Only this time the difference was that the topics of conversation she wanted to talk about were almost exclusively the problems she was having in her marriage – with her ex-husband playing the role of her emotional tampon, and me as an annoyed and impatient 3rd wheel observer.
One evening during dinner she made some statement about the “political differences” between her and her husband. I was operating in that “yadda, yadda, autopilot” mode that men often adopt with women and nodding my head like I was actually listening to what she was saying and offering appropriate cues for uninterrupted verbal output whenever she paused. So, I asked “What sort of political differences?” (mistake on my part, I know – I can only say in my defense that I was only listening to her drone on and not really thinking about what she was saying.)
“Well, let me give you an example” she said. “If a woman goes into a bar wearing sexy clothes and no panties and later gets raped, did she ‘ask for it’? ”
I was in full bore MRA mode in those days, so I was neither going to let that pass nor play into it. I could tell that she was stacking the deck like a typical feminist with her addition of the “no panties.”
After much discussion, and using the example of me going into a poor part of town and waving around a handful of $100 bills just to rub in people’s faces that I had something they wanted and didn’t have and that they might just decide to knock me in the head and take it from me, I finally forced her to concede that if the hypothetical woman had acted differently that, yes, she would have experienced a different outcome.
But, the hamster was not going down without a fight, and she finished lamely “BUT, I still think a woman ‘should’ be able to go anywhere she wants, wearing anything she wants, and do anything she wants, and still not have anything bad happen to her.”
I took that statement as an admission of defeat.
But, that was back in the days when I was in full-bore MRA jihad mode, and I had had a belly full of her pissing and moaning about her current husband and how he didn’t want her, in front of her ex-husband, who at that time I still considered a close friend, who was desperately trying to woo her back and was in full-bore AFC/emotional tampon mode, so I was going to shove her bullshit back down her throat.
I asked what the hell was the woman doing in the bar in the first place – attention-whoring and hustling attention and free drinks, obviously.
Male “attention” is not “free” and women are not “entitled” to be the center of male attention the way many of them seem to think they are. They are playing a high risk game which will sometimes get them hurt, and very often will incur the hostility and animosity of men. A woman who attracts male attention by wearing low-cut tops forfeits the right to bitch about men paying attention to her tits, because all of her actions are designed purely for the purpose of attracting attention. A woman who goes into a bar dressed to attract male attention – down to shoving her panty-less twat in men’s faces in a gesture that is as old as time and has always meant “mate me” – is not going to be able to maintain absolute control over exactly what kind of attention she gets and who she gets it from. By acting as she did, she is taking a risk.
But, typically feminist (or FEMININE-ist) Jane absolute refused to even see the way that the woman actually had power over the situation – by acting differently she would have certainly gotten different results. And there is the core of the sore point – you are always hearing women demand how MEN have to change, and the whole world has to change, so that they can do whatever they want to and still get the results they want to get. But, the world does not work that way – never has and never will – and the fact that it doesn’t is not some plot men have hatched for the purpose of frustrating women.
Men are not warm-blooded vibrators who exist for women to flip on and off like light switches purely for women’s entertainment. We are human beings with our own set of needs, and will keep demanding that women respect those needs as long as they continue to refuse to do so.
What Jane is talking about and committing is interpersonal fraud at the most fundamental level. It is essentially the same as a man who lies through his teeth and says “I love you” frequently just to get women to sleep with him. People who play that sort of vicious exploitive game have already violated the social contract of mutual civility, and thus do not deserve to have the benefit of it keeping them safe.
I responded to her hypothetical panty-less woman with 3 hypothetical men in the bar and pointed out to her how her beliefs and attitudes were contributing to the very pain that she was boring the shit out of me with having to listen to.
Man #1 is your typical naive “NiceGuy™” He hasn’t seen enough of women to have wised up to the vicious games they play, so he reacts to the woman’s mating display the way men are hard-wired to react. He is your basic AFC just waiting to be taken for a ride. He buys her a drink or two, she shuts him down and blows him off believing that she is just entitled to his attention and free drinks, and he slinks away feeling hurt and pissed off. Man #2 is your typical low-IQ semi-thug. He is the type of petty criminal who is poorly socialized, and considers selling meth or burglarizing houses to be perfectly acceptable vocations. He is already a criminal, so additional criminal behavior don’t bother him one bit. Where the NiceGuy™ gets hurt and slinks away to lick his wounds, BadGuy™ decides to not let the bitch get away with jerking him around and decides to push the issue and make her deliver what she was seeming to promise.
Rape is a crime, and people who rape are criminally-minded. But, all this will get denied and swept away and NiceGuy™ will get blamed and branded a rapist for the event even though he was well socialized and did not commit a crime. The rape hysterics are doing something very evil, and in the long run very bad for women, when they do not differentiate between ordinary men and criminals. More on this later.
Which brings us to man #3. He is Jane’s husband, and has seen this game being run before. He knows enough to know that the woman is committing sexual fraud to feed her inner attention-whore. So, instead of falling for the sexual scam she is running and allowing his instinctive and reflexive responses to be used to manipulate him, he shuts them down, turns his back on her, and turns his attention back to the ball game on the TV.
And, when he gets home, and Jane would now like a little bit of attention – on her schedule and strictly according to her demands – he remains shut down and wants nothing to do with her. So, rather than face being such a stupid bitch that her own husband doesn’t want her, she goes out and cheats on him. But, remaining as gutless and dishonest as ever, she doesn’t take the risk to put herself out on the open sexual marketplace and take the risk of having to compete with other women and possibly be rejected (she was, after all, at this point almost 50 years old). No, she approaches the safest man in the world for her, a man who still loves her enough that he would just about cut off his own arm rather than hurt her, and enlists his cooperation in cheating on her husband.
Am I managing to convey the depth of my contempt for this woman?
And, through it all, she cannot and will not step out of the narrative. The very concept that a man might shut down on women in general, or on a particular woman – her, for example – simply will not fit into her nicely furnished hamster cage.
Well, the day of my flight home finally arrived. She was going to take me to the airport and we had lunch before my flight. My eyes were not yet opened to the full depth of her game playing, and I bought the narrative that she was “confused and conflicted” about the whole thing. I laid it out for her and told her that I thought she was behaving in a reprehensible manner. “Don’t keep playing these two guys off against each other” I said. “If you realize now that you made a mistake when you divorced Dick and want him back, then tell your husband that, and get a divorce, and marry Dick again. But don’t keep playing these guys against each other in a bidding war to see who will offer you the better deal.”
I could tell by the look on her face that I had hit nerve. I flew back home thinking she was one of the stupidest, vilest, most self-centered, cunts I had ever met in my life, and for all his good heart and being a Niceguy™, that he was dumber than dogshit to put up with her. But, stupid me, there was still enough of that damned Leo loyalty in me that I still saw her as a misguided friend and not as an evil selfish, self-centered bitch.
Well, my faith in her was justified in one respect – she would eventually help me over that hurdle.
Chapter 3 -
(and this is where the plot curdles)
Another 3 years or so go by, and she sends me an email that she is planning a big surprise party for his 50th birthday and since I was his best friend, she wants me to come. I was “between jobs” at the time, didn’t want to spend the money, and not too hot on birthdays or her, so I declined.
Then, another friend of his that I had met started working on me. This guy stated that if I came, that Jane would dance naked. (they live on the left coast)
“Yeah. Right!” was my response. This woman was so sexually uptight that she would go to a beach or something like that, wear a 1 piece bathing suit out of the 50s, and still spend her time huddled up in a beach wrap. I expected the next thing the guy to do was try to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge.
They kept at me for several weeks and finally figured out that I was serious about not wanting to spend the money, so they finally offered to pay for my plane ticket. “Now, you’re talking!”
It was Californication to the max. The “theme” of the party was “leather, lace, or nothing at all” and everyone there was either pretending to be a biker-wannabe or part of the nudist crowd. It was supposed to be a total surprise, so everyone hid in the next room when he showed up.
The ruse was that the 2 of them were going out to dinner with another couple. When he showed up, she started this elaborate game of “I planned something special for your birthday” and dropped the coat she was wearing to reveal that she was wearing nothing but a body stocking. Then, the female half of the other couple came in and dropped her coat, wearing nothing but a similar stocking. Of course, everyone was tittering over how excited Dick was going to be over the idea of a threesome with these 2 women.
At that point all the guests walked in shouting “surprise.”
The evening wore on with some of the most bogus, shallow, game playing I’ve ever had to endure. The women were all half or completely naked, and never got too far from their male SOs. There were enough single-unattached males there that the women got plenty of attention, but were perfectly safe from having to follow through on the reason they were getting it, because they had their protective husbands or BFs close at hand.
Many drinks into the evening, Jane stood up and started telling the story of getting me to the party. Of course, the idea that any man would pass up the chance to drop a few hundred bucks on a plane ticket and rush halfway across the country to watch any woman take off her clothes (including a 45-ish one with fake boobs and a saggy ass) was just too unbelievably funny.
Trapped in the narrative – any male of any age will of course spend any amount of money it takes to be able to see any woman naked.
It was my best buddy’s birthday, and I was a bit socially trapped – having been picked up at the airport and taken to a location I had no idea where it was, and dependent on these people for transportation and lodging – so I played along with the joke. I could have walked out, and if I had known in advance what shit she was going to pull, I probably would have walked somewhere and gotten a taxi to a motel and then one to the airport. But, there I was – so I played along.
“Show me the money!” I said.
She then went on to set the stage that she really was going to dance naked, but that she was going to “make him” (meaning me) “work for it.” The game was going to be Trivial Pursuit about Dick, since I supposedly knew him better than anyone else in the world. For every question I got right, she would take off one piece of clothing. She made a BIG deal out of exactly how many pieces of clothing she was wearing right then – which was 3 if you counted each of her shoes as a separate article, plus a totally see through body stocking which left her breasts, nipples, pubic hair, and even cameltoe, totally visible. (BIG, LONG, ELABORATE DRAMATIC buildup here – totally giving away her intention to do something unbelievably bogus)
So, the “game” commenced, with cheering squads for each “side.” Every time I missed a question, the women cheered, every time I got one right the men cheered and the women booed – the battle of the sexes in microcosm – Team Woman against Team Man, played like a sick version of the child’s game “keepway”with the sexuality of a woman in whom I had absolutely no interest being dangled as the “prize” – as the narrative dictates.
So, we got into the game with questions like “What is his niece’s pony’s name.” The funniest thing was that she was so drunk by this point, that she would ask me a question like this, and when I didn’t know it and she told the answer, she would come back and ask me the same question again – at which time I would give the answer she had just told me, and claim the “point.” The women always booed, but the guys stood by me – “asked and answered!”
So, I got about 12 points for 3 items of clothing. By her own rules she was going to end up completely naked. However, I had followed the running gag in the Peanuts cartoon strip about Charlie Brown, Lucy, and the football, long enough to know she was going to weasel out of it somehow.
She disappears for about half an hour with a couple of female helpers, then an accomplice cued her music and she made her grand entrance.
She must have brought a damn trunk full of clothes with her and put on every one of them. She left with 3 items of clothing on, and returned with about 30.
She started out dancing to a song from the movie “9 1/2 weeks” that Kim Bassinger danced to. By this time, she had had to get so drunk in order to do this at all that she was basically falling off her shoes.
I looked around at the people in the room cheering her on and thought to myself that if there had been one damn person in the room who cared about her even a little bit they would have dragged her out of there, stuck her head under cold running water, and slapped some sense into her.
But, that was the weirdest and saddest part of the whole macabre scene – not one person there cared enough about her as a person to intervene in her making a complete ass of herself. Obviously, she had manipulated me into a situation where I couldn’t do it, and by this time I was pissed off enough at her that I probably wouldn’t have even if I could have.
The dance ended at some point, with her wearing a hat, a pair of panties, and some sort of scarf arranged so that her fake boobs teased out without being actually “on display.”
I wandered off to ponder what amazing insanities the human race is capable of and a little while later she sought me out.
“Are you having a good time?” she asked.
“Not really”, I replied. “Being around all these nearly naked women with their men just makes me really aware of being here alone.”
“WELL, at least you have all these beautiful ladies to look at”
What a glib cutoff and dismissal. In her unbelievable narcissism, she seemingly thought that because being looked at and having her ego fed by being the center of attention and being able to pretend that she was still 18, that gratifying her ego should be equally gratifying to me.
I made the simplest of human comments, that no, I really wasn’t enjoying it, and she had to cut me off and silence that. A simple human gesture of understanding on her part would have made me feel very warm toward her, but what I got from her made me hate her guts.
Skankus Americanus. She played the victim game with her boob job by insinuating that she might have cancer, worrying the shit out of my buddy, and still her husband at that point in time. She pledged with complete sincerity to be his wife for life, and didn’t live up to that for more than 4 years. She made the same pledge to another man, and when their differences (and behavior she supported other women in doing) resulted in him turning off on her, she sought out the safest man in the world to have an affair with (no risk for her, no way). She strung my buddy along for 4 more years playing on his hope that she might leave her gravy train (oops, I meant “husband”) and come back to him. She “celebrated” his birthday by demeaning him over his sex drive and fantasies, played a bogus game she never had any intention on following through with, and when a man who she had known for 20 years and had been pretty much a friend that whole time told her that he really wasn’t enjoying the whole charade, she blows him completely off in the belief that gratifying her ego should gratify him.
In a blinding flash of insight I grasped all at once what Ferdinand Bardmanu would later come to call “The Eternal Solipsism of the Female Mind.” Every idea I had had about friendship, and how people conducted themselves toward people they called (or thought of as) “friends”, got thrown out the window. Her utter and complete lack of conscience about using men in her life who were or had been her husbands, or anyone else within her circle of acquaintances, would have seemed cold blooded and ruthless if she had appeared to give it any thought. It was the complete lack of any thought or concern which was the most chilling and enlightening.
I realized then that she was simply incapable of regarding other people as human beings with thoughts, desires, and needs of their own, and simply regarded them as resources to use to gratify herself – much like someone might regard a tree as nothing more than a source of lumber to cut down and saw into planks to use to build a house or garage. She was incapable of regarding or dealing with people as people, and saw them merely as objects.
While my experience doesn’t even come close to what some men have had to go through with divorces, or child custody fights, or false accusations, it still illustrates the need a lot of men have to TOTALLY rethink what they believe about women – and about other men as well.
- Epilogue –
Several months went by – close to a year – and I got an email from my buddy. They had taken me to the airport the day after the party and I had spent the flight back reflecting on what was one of the most bizarre events I had ever experienced in my life without pharmaceutical assistance. His email was just standard “hi, how you doing?” chit-chat. I wrote back and almost idly asked how things were going with him and Jane. He said that he hadn’t seen her for about 6 months after the party and then she showed up again. At least he was no longer carrying a torch for her and had copped the attitude “If she shows up and wants to fuck, I will fuck her. But, if she doesn’t that is fine, too – I have other women to spend my time with.”
Well, if you have hung with me so far through this long prologue, here comes the punch line.
As usual, being a feminist, Naomi Wolf gets it all wrong. The “porn” that women really should be concerning themselves with is the kind walking around on stupid uncomfortable shoes all around us every day. It is the women shoving their tits, and panty-less twats, in men’s faces, and absolutely demanding that none of the men that they do not want to react to them do so in any way – but if they do, calling it “rayyype” and “sexual harassment.”
FEMININE-ism is about absolute and total control of the external environment by women who refuse to exercise any control over themselves. It is also about absolute and total control of men – demanding they not even think about being human beings, and instead exist only as manbots, whose only option is to follow the instructions given by women – always in the form of a sentence which includes the world “should” - with a grinning army of brain-dead manginas and White Knights as their enforcers.
Women, en masse, have been subjecting men to a sort of culture wide Ludovico technique, in which women are allowed, “empowered”, to beat on men’s instinctive reactions to female sexuality, and then clobber any man who reacts that they deem “unwelcome” with the full clout of the criminal justice system, destroy their careers, reputations, and everything they have worked in life to achieve. And, just like the ultimate anti-hero in the film, Alex, men begin to associate a stimulus they previously considered quite nice with nausea and all sorts of unpleasantness.
Like the old Aesop’s fable about the boy who cried “wolf”, women who dishonestly cry “wolf”, or “rayyype”, or “abuse”, or “mate me”, and lie about it eventually destroy all their credibility and people no longer believe them – even in those cases when it is true. That is the hidden long-term cost of using lies to manipulate other people to get what you want in the short term.
Unfortunately for men, the sex drive is extremely powerful. And, it takes a whole lot to suppress it. But, once a man masters the skill to do so, he immediately starts to reap lots of benefits. It makes him much more difficult to manipulate. He is able to evaluate women not on their sexual attributes, but on their character. And, he puts a layer of insulation between himself and a false rape accusation of the “he said, she said” type.
I contend that the real underlying cause of women and girls having to become so outrageous in flaunting their sexuality in order to get even a little bit of attention from men is women like Jane – who consider that it is a god-given right of women to shake men’s trees, whether or not they actually want any of that man’s peaches. It is the women shoving their tits, and their panty-less twats, in men’s faces and then demanding, under threat of punishment by law, that those men not react as they hare hard wired to react, who force men to learn not to react even when those women change their minds and start wanting a particular man to react.
And, this totally solipsistic exploitation by men, and the women who support it, eventually erode away even the strongest of relationships. Jane went from being a woman that my buddy Dick would have done anything he possibly could to win back, to being a woman who he will fuck if she shows up and wants to fuck. TOS limitations prevent me from being totally candid about my opinion of this woman that I had thought was a friend for close to 20 years.
I have always believed that men would get through these social changes we are living through. I didn’t think that women would like how men adapted, but I had no doubt that they would adapt. The problem for women is that they have thrown away their power base in exchange for unlimited “empowerment.”
It does not matter that “NAWALT.” Sooner or later we are going to have to face a cultural admission that SOME women really are like that, and that the ones who are can do a great deal of damage to the people around them – especially including the NAWALTs.
And, here is the core of that damage: not only do fewer men want those women at all, having been trained by walking pornography to shut down their desires, but to return to Jane’s hypothetical woman – if she goes into a bar wearing sexy clothes and no panties, in order to use men’s instinctive and reflexive reactions against them in order to feed their inner attention whores and get free drinks, and later gets raped…
… the question is not whether or not “she asked for it”, but instead “who gives a shit?”