From the original article on November 28, 2012. Author: Chateau Heartiste.
This commune of cosseted corporeal delights gets its fair share of female readers emailing the proprietors with requests (nay, more like demands) to rank them on a 1 to 10 beauty scale. Photos are included, along with promises that all info will be kept private (naturally). The proprietors abide the second request, but rarely the first, because it is quite obvious that what these women seek they already know, and are simply fishing for a little of the ol’ ultrastroking of their egos by the lead pack animal with fur of woven gold and claws stained with mortal triumph.
A recent example of the genre appeared in the Inbox of Consummation, and, as is usual in these cases, the woman in the photo is quite fetching, a solid 8. She too, asked for privacy, so I will not reveal any details here, except to say she is younger than lawyercunt age and was eager to leverage her looks for a family and babies before it was too late, evidencing a feeling of deadly urgency not often observed in women so young which she acquired, so she says, through reading this blog. She valued the opinion of the Rectory’s Grandmaster, and wished to know if a “lesser alpha” was within her purview.
Yes, you slinky pantherette, you can get a lesser alpha if you put your heart to it.
The overwhelming majority of these “rank me” emails feature women sitting comfortably above the 7 and above looks rating. I can only remember two who were otherwise; one girl was a 6 and the other was frolicking dangerously close to the soul-burning fires of a 4 or 5 rating. A lopsided number of them are 8s and higher.
Why would only good-looking women email for reassurances of their good looks? If women were really oblivious to their sexual market values, you’d expect to see a more even distribution from women at all points of the looks scale searching for unbiased third party opinions.
The premise is, of course, all wrong. Women are VERY AWARE of their SMVs, both absolute and relative, and that is why ugly women rarely ask for opinions on their looks: even the nicest niceboi would be hard-pressed to sufficiently conceal his discomfort at having to gently fib to a mastodon that she really looks like a Venus. And women are quite skilled at picking up subtexts and subcommunications and subsubmeanings within submeanings telegraphed through body language and quivering supplicating voice.
The same reason fugs avoid tempting the sizzling light of judgment is the reason hot babes welcome it: the latter love reminding themselves how hot they are by provoking reactions from men (betas) eager to feed their womanly need. Unless you are running an online presence and don’t go out of your way to meet such women IRL, you’d best follow the hallowed prescription to avoid giving attractive women the ego boosts they crave if you don’t want to be chucked into the boring manboob discount bin.
The other interesting angle to all this is the question of why, when the world is full of men with nearly universal tastes in women, do some hot women feel compelled to coax unnecessary flattery from an ASCII ghost? The answer to that, I leave as an exercise for the reader.
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