From the original article on April 26, 2012. Author: Chateau Heartiste.
Libertardian (nice nick!) writes:
That article clearly struck a major nerve and it saddens me to see Aussie women have fallen prey to the madness as well.
One commenter shouts “Karma!” and the reply is: “Karma? For getting an education, having a well-paying job, having some drive, spirit and independence, living life as one sees fit? What a strange mentality to have towards other human beings.”
They just don’t get it.
Women have no idea of the bleak odds most men have been living with for years, or how disaffected it has made them. I’d guess the average beta, by the age of 30, has been rejected or flaked on at least one thousand times. What this teaches him is to keep a lot of irons in the fire and minimize his emotional investment in any of them.
He’s been brainwashed into thinking women are angelic and pure and like nice men, and admittedly that mindset is probably in his nature as well. Civilization, which we had up to a few decades ago, rewards this mindset. The jungle we live in now does not. The result is years of painful cognitive dissonance and, eventually, a pervasive cynicism born of the need for simple emotional self-preservation.
If he’s mature for his age, he probably even prefers the company of older (thirtysomething) women. They’re more mature than the ones his own age who are still partying and drinking and chasing bad boys, after all. But of course that’s a dead end too. The thirtysomething women are busy chasing fortysomething men with money, and when they want to dally with a younger man it’s hardly going to be a beta.
Our beta is in the 80% of men who spends his twenties watching 80% of the women go after the other 20% of the men. The kind of men he sees these women chase after, again and again, has been discussed at length here and hardly needs repeating. Needless to say, this adds greatly to his disillusionment.
He also knows about the 70%+ divorce rate and the fact that 70% of divorces are initiated by women, who need no cause for doing so, and he knows that the result is having half or more of his assets stripped. He may well have seen, at first hand, his father or another older man having his retirement cleaned out. No matter how “in love” you think you are, you’re a moron if you take on these odds. It’s like playing Russian roulette with five chambers loaded.
Someone once said a beta is like a baseball player who’s been kept on the bench for the entire game, until in the bottom of the 9th he’s suddenly called up and told to hit a sacrifice fly. Thing is, by then, he may well have dropped out.
He’s long since learned to treat sex as a bodily function, like eating or shitting, that he can accomplish with the help of some porn. He had to learn that during his decade and a half in the beta wasteland.
He’s learned to channel his passions into something else, like a hobby, or work, or volunteering. Indeed he can do whatever the hell he wants, outside of work, all day every day. Women, meanwhile, take it for granted that men are supposed to do things they don’t enjoy in exchange for the pleasure of female company. Thing is, why is the guy going to volunteer to be told what to do and how to spend his money? Women have treated him like shit for fifteen years while they chased the alpha male bad boy. Modern society has taught women to be entitled to the point of delusion, emotionally volatile and manipulative to the point of being bipolar, and above all to BLAME MEN. So why, after the experiences he’s had already, is he going to want to tune into this channel 24/7?
And the blaming continues when the beta mysteriously opts not to shove his head into the trap. The name-calling and the shaming and the cries to “man up” assail him from all sides. But what does he care? He tried doing just what women said they wanted for fifteen years and his reward was a bowl of piss with a brown submarine cruising in it. Scolding him is like putting out a fire with gasoline.
Sure, some betas learn game and find success with women. Most men seem to take a quantum leap in attractiveness to women just by crossing the age of thirty, having a few bucks, and not being omegas. The point is, the scales have long since fallen from their eyes. They’ve seen the beast and they cannot unsee it.
There’s been some clamor in the manosphere lately about there being a false impression created by “gamers” that the currently operative sexual market is very good to men. This manosphere subspecies claims that in reality women have it better than men, and this can be seen in women’s entitled attitudes and their avoidance of marriage and historically high divorce initiation rates.
The sexual market is a roiling, turbulent beast about which any poking and prodding is best served by sterling precision. We have mentioned this here before, but it bears repeating: the modern dating scene has been, and is, very good to ALPHA MALES. Beta males more than ever are the biggest losers under the post-sexual revolution regime. Contraceptive freedom, social destigmatization and female economic self-sufficiency have joined forces to enable a sexual libertinism that redounds most beneficially to alpha males, and most disadvantageously to beta males.
What about women? Where do they stand in the rushing river of romantic license? For women, it’s been a mixed bag. Unleashed hypergamy brought on by a diminished need for beta providers and a contraceptively nullified fear of pregnancy allows them to pursue charming alpha males to their hearts’ content while delaying marriage or relationship fidelity until they are vaginally or emotionally spent and ready, if needed, for the Great Settle with some grateful beta who has wandered the celibate wilderness a little longer than he’d hoped.
As GBFM colorfully put it, this is the “Alpha Fucks and Beta Bucks” strategy. Be cognizant, though, that this is not the optimal female strategy, which, logically, would be “Alpha Fucks and Alpha Bucks”. Of course, only the hottest women can realistically achieve this ovarian nirvana.
The downside for women of the feminist-inspired and alpha male-co-opted sexual revolution is that false hopes engendered by a few fantastic nights with an alpha male can lead them to squander their prime beauty years chasing illusory commitment from exciting cads. Freewheeling soft concubinage also spoils a woman’s sexual expectations, rendering the second-best bedroom love of the beta male disappointingly meager.
And then there are the less attractive women, those who are caught up in the hypergamy house of mirrors but can’t find a way out like their prettier sisters. Has the sexual revolution been good to them? As a system conducive to gratifying immediate superficial needs, yes. But for long-term needs of the sort that are particular to women, no. A dearth of economically higher status beta males and/or maritally inclined alpha males has made it tough on women in both the lower and upper SES tiers, whose growing populations respectively of single moms and childless mimosters attests to their difficulties navigating the present dating market. After all, no woman REALLY wants to grow up to be a single mom or mimosa-sipping spinster.
So there you have it. The diagnosis. The sexual/feminist revolution delineated. Women, on the whole, have it better than men, but alpha males have it the best.
Alpha males =======> WINNING
Beta males ==> LOSING
Alpha females (.)(.)(.)(.)(.)(.)(.)> TREADING WATER
Beta females (.)(.)(.)(.)> PYRRHIC VICTORIES
******
The Raven writes, in regards to the ability to influence human perception:
Professional shooting instructors have known this for a while. I have heard it referred to as “The Henry Bowman Effect”. Nearly every woman I teach to shoot gets gina tingles so blatant that you can practically see the snail trail when I send them downrange to paste their targets. Now, it doesn’t work so well if you’re a neckbearded fatty, but let me give you a sample of an email I got from a 24-year-old nurse I taught some defensive shooting to last summer:
“Now that I’ve gotten my upper torso out of the gigantic pile of bricks that took me out about 1/2 way through the day today, I’m trying to shake the brick dust out of my ears and get a clean thought process going.... aided by some Ambien so excuse me if spelling and grammar doesn’t match my level of intelligence. Maybe and I had too much time up in the truck talking, or I had time to myself to think about things, or I saw you with – but something has absolutely snapped in my brain- and I am in LOVE with you. I don’t get it. You’re not mine. You will never be, and have never been. I can’t help the way I feel. It’s almost like when I was watching you teach today, my brain was saying “he’d make a great father”, and when you were shooting, the brain was saying “He can protect you” and talking about your job stuff lately says “he’s a provider”... and not to mention I think your calves are sexy—– I think my ovaries and screaming at me to reproduce and I think they chose you. I don’t actually WANT children, but you get it. That’s where I’m at. I love you for who you are, and how you’re a friend to me, but then my body wants to jump in and decide that you’d be the perfect sperm for me? It’s a little fucked up but I’m becoming more aware of these weird biohealth things going on with my hormonal 24 year old body. I’m hornier than ever, I cry at Gerber baby commercials, and watching my sister breastfeed makes MY boobs sore. How is this fair?!?!? This is wrong on so many levels. You are happily married. I WANT to be happily married to . I eventually wouldn’t mind children (distant future), but I can’t figure out why today I had to come to terms with the reality that I LOVE you but nothing will ever change (as It should NOT). That kiss was phenomenal, but far too short. All that really did was jab a knife into my already aching heart that I can’t kiss you every time I leave, or when I say hello, or good morning. It makes me sad I’m actually crying right now and this is fucked up..
Even more so, I will get married in the future and unless he’s a complete douche, you guys will be invited to the wedding. I’ll be in my poofy dress and you in a suit and you’ll come up for a dance and we’ll just look at eachother and *sigh* because I’ll be secretly wishing it was you. Do you know how FUCKED UP THAT IS??? I will love my husband, and he will be great- but there is already a man out there that I think would make a good partner for me. That’s not supposed the way it’s supposed to work. I have more thoughts but I cant even type sentences anymore. I’m sorry.
Peace out.”
I saved that email just because it was such a classic example of HBS.
Anyway – the other chick was practically humping my leg too. It’s a hazard that has served me well.
The Raven
I’ve often wondered what would happen to the sexual reciprocity continuum if beta males discovered en masse how boldly and shamelessly women throw themselves at the few alpha males in their midst. Would it rip wide open the fragile sperm-vagine fabric and create a wormhole leading to an alternate dimension where white knighting was a mockable offense and no beta male, anywhere, ever again paid for a date or wrote sappy love poems? Would princess pedestals shatter like the cymbal crash in a symphony, freeing men’s minds of hallucinatory dreamscapes? The female id uncaged is a sight to behold, crueler and more subversive than the reckless thrashing of the unchained male id, and it’s with good reason civilization only flourished once it was patrolled and the pleasure of its vessels redistributed.
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