Aside from Men Going Their Own Way and others who have sworn off women altogether, the almost-exclusively straight dudes of the manosphere devote an incredible amount of time trying to figure out how to get into the pants of young, hot, “fertile” women in their teens and twenties, and complain bitterly about the terrible injustice they suffer when these women refuse to have sex with them.
And then they turn around and attack women in their thirties for actually wanting to have sex with them – because these women have committed the dastardly crime of having sex with other men when they were younger. In the parlance of our times the manosphere, this is known as “riding the cock carousel.”
Today we have a lovely example of this latter phenomenon, from prolific manosphere commenter “Deti,” who attacked former “carousel riders” in this rant he left in the comments on The Woman and the Dragon. (There may be lots of equally horrible things in the comments there as well; I haven’t looked. I found Deti’s comment because it was highlighted as a piece of great wisdom on The Private Man, yet another terrible manosphere blog.)
Here’s Deti:
In light of the incalculable damage feminism has done, in light of our society being on the brink of irretrievable and total collapse, I think women need to ask themselves, individually and collectively:
Was it worth it?
Was the cock carousel worth it?
The sex, the occasional orgasms, the attention and validation, the rush, the feelings?
The drunk dancing on tables, the hangovers, the feelings of immediate regret, the knowledge that you’ve just been used as a semen receptacle (for the 14th time)?
We’re off to a rollicking start here. Apparently, table dancing and casual sex (with dudes who aren’t Deti) have brought civilization to its very knees.
Was it worth it?
The ridiculous thoughts to yourself that, no, THIS TIME it will be different. This time I won’t get f**ked over. This time I will get what I want. This time I will save it for a good man, a kind man, the right man — who never shows up.
Did you get what you wanted?
If what they wanted was casual sex with a guy they found attractive, then, uh, yes? (Whether it was good sex is another matter entirely.)
If they were looking for a longer-term relationship, and the guy did indeed turn out to be a jerk or otherwise incompatible, then, uh, no? I’m not quite sure why Deti assumes it’s the woman’s fault if the guy turns out to be Mr. Wrong. (Actually, scratch that: I do know why.)
Did the hot man, the rich man, the sexy man, the alpha, marry you? Did he give you the brass ring of commitment? Did he pledge his life to you? DId he promise to stay around for longer than just until he’s tired of f**king you and putting up with your bulls**t?
Or did you fall (again) for the player’s smooth line that “hey, I think it’s great that a woman like you can have sex with who she wants. That’s only fair. It’s a man’s world, and you should get to partake in it just like we do.”
Yep, that’s right, any man who thinks it’s ok for women to have casual sex with guys they find attractive is clearly an evil, manipulative player. And any woman who believes this is a sucker.
You get out of his bed. You’ve got to get to work this morning. You try to find your panties and put your miniskirt and 4 inch heels on to walk to your car and get an Egg McMuffin and some coffee.
Hey, come on man. Don’t bring the Egg McMuffin into this. Egg McMuffins are delicious.
You add another notch to your lipstick case (one you’ll have to come clean about someday to your therapist or drug counselor or ER doctor, if not your husband). He says “I had a great time. Let’s do it again. There’s some coffee downstairs. Help yourself. I’ve got a lot of things to do today so I need to get going. Sorry I can’t have you stay longer.” You reply weakly: “It’s OK. Call me, OK?” “Sure. You bet I will.”
Desi, worst slashfic writer ever.
LIttle do you know that he just infected you with genital herpes. You’ll find out in a week or so after the incubation period is up and you have festering blisters all over your pubic area. The pain is so excruciating you have to take the day off work, get some treatment at the ER, and stay in bed. You can’t wear panties because the weight of the fabric on the sores is too painful. You can’t walk because the skin on skin friction hurts. Oh well. I’m sure your future husband will understand.
I think we’ve just discovered a new kink: men turned on by the idea of women suffering herpes outbreaks so painful that they have to remove their panties.
In any case, herpes happens. Big deal. It’s a medical condition, not the act of an angry god. Nor is it spread primarily by sleazy players who don’t call women back. According to the CDC, roughly one in six Americans between the ages of 14 and 49 have genital herpes. And, as the CDC notes:
Most individuals infected with HSV-1 or HSV-2 experience either no symptoms or have very mild symptoms that go unnoticed or are mistaken for another skin condition. Because of this, most people infected with HSV-2 are not aware of their infection.
Back to Detiland:
Tell me: does it occur to you that you did it again? Does it occur to you that you’ve f**ked up yet again? Are you getting it yet that the guy who blasted another load on your chest or in your hair last night has no intention of returning the texts you send him, unless it involves an encore performance?
I’m guessing that most women probably aren’t that interested in having any sort of ongoing relationship with a dude who “blasted a load” in their hair on the first date.
Does it dawn on you that maybe what you’re doing isn’t working and maybe you need to try something else? Does it dawn on you that the only things you really got out of last night were a couple of bottles of beer and bragging rights?
And sex, which may have been good or bad. Which is pretty much what the guy got.
It’s 6:45 am on a Sunday morning. You stumble through yet another Walk of Shame across the quad back to your apartment, with your hair and clothes reeking of Aqua Net and stale cigarettes and Old Style and semen.
Like I said: Worst slashfic writer ever.
You pray to God above that you don’t see any of your friends. He smiles on you and today, you are spared the agony of your good friends observing you in all your disheveled, deflowered ignominy. But you see mirror images. You pass by other girls in miniskirts and heels, some of whom lost their bras last night and couldn’t find them. You see other men on their way home, some of whom are hungover, some of whom have little smiles on their faces. You exchange knowing glances with both the men and the women, some of whom you kind of know, others you don’t — but the looks are the same.
“I know what you did last night”.
“I know WHO you did last night.”
Um, no, I’m thinking that most of those who see women walking across the quad on a Sunday don’t actually know who they had sex with, if anyone.
“That sex sucked. But he was hot.”
So again, if a man is crap in bed, women are to blame for not guessing this beforehand?
“I’m never doing this again.”
So as you get home, exhale a breath, disrobe and try to wash the stench from the oddly arousing yet horribly convicting things you did and you allowed another human being to do to you, on you and in you, do you ask:
Is this worth it?
I have a question of my own here: WTF is a “horribly convicting thing?”
Do you have anything more to show for your life than N>10, an STD, recurrent UTIs and probably an abortion in there somewhere?
If you assume that women are defined entirely by the bad casual sex they’ve had, then I guess the answer is “not much.” If you assume that women are actual human beings, like men, free to live the sexual life they want but not defined entirely by it, then I’m guessing the answer is yes.
Manosphere dudes complain (bitterly) when their critics describe them as dudes bitter because they can’t get sex. It’s hard not to describe them as such when they talk about this shit endlessly, and bitterly, on their blogs.
This was made up of awesome, stuffed with awesome and garnished with awesome.
Re: partner count. IME people generally get together with people who have similar feelings about sex. This may. or may not correlate with partner count.
Yeah, I had a Nice Guy who always wanted to dig for dirt between Beloved and me. So I annoyed the shit out of him with how happy we (still) are. Then one day a friend mentioned where Beloved works, and Nice Guys response? Oh well no wonder she won’t date me when he’s making so much money. My friends laughed and dared him to say that to my face. When I heard about it, I pointed out to him that I’d known him long before I met Beloved and wouldn’t date him then either. And then I told him why I wouldn’t date him. The asshat alcoholism was a real dealbreaker for me as was the filthiness of his apartment and his sexist attitudes.
drst – yes, that’s the sad, or rather scary, part. Scary because they try to impose this shite on others. Their views are bad fiction, they just don’t realise (or refuse to realise) it.
Uh huh. I hear you, pillow. You played it well.The scariest part was that this Nice Guy never heard my rejections. You know? I was a character in the movie playing in his head, so my actual opinion in real life didn’t matter. Luckily, he graduated two years before me.
And yes, kitteh, ewww indeed.
@dualityheart – THIS. I can’t do casual sex. It’s just not who I am. I’ve only ever had relationships and very few of those. And yet, despite fitting some of the wretched “good girl” bullshit of the MRM, I am about as raging a feminist as you will ever meet. Because I know casual doesn’t work FOR ME. I don’t really give a damn what other people do so long as it’s consensual and everyone is of legal age, because they should do what works FOR THEM. I have no reason to think that what I know is what I want must automatically be what everyone should be forced to do.
This is also why I’m not a Republican. *eyeroll*
I admit, I get a little wistful sometimes, and lonely, but hello human experience! Most people feel that way. I know people who are insanely happy and married who have those moments too. There is no magical state of relationship where you never have another bad moment.
Shiraz…this guy was my next door neighbor for two years and we shared the same balcony. I could go out for a smoke at three AM and he would come out to chat with me. I couldn’t be outside my door anywhere around the building without him showing up.
And he refused to hear the many many times I told him point blank why I wouldn’t date him. He kept hanging around hoping Beloved and I would break up and complaining to my friends that he couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t date him. And they would explain it.
Wait, Shadow’s here!!! Hi Shadow! Howdily doodily to youily?
kitteh, thank you for dusting Tulgey off. Tulgey tends to get very dusty if we don’t provide regular maintenance.
Wow, that sounds familar, pillow. Whenever I had to work at the campus TV station he was always JUST THERE. Like magic. He obviously skimmed the work schedule every day. Damn. I would have enjoyed my first few years of college so much more if he just wasn’t around.
And yes, its scary to have someone you’ve repeatedly turned down flat continue to pursue you like nothing was said. Especially if you know the guy has a temper, or in my case, is working his way into a deep and abiding bitterness.
Shiraz, I actually had to move to the other side of the building just to get some space away from him. And then he’d whine about how I never come to see him any more? Wut?
Oh pillow…*shudder*
But see? Why don’t they listen to the words coming out of our mouths? Because women don’t really know what they want? Or some other bullshit? These assholes really don’t have clue.
Shiraz, I think they just don’t listen because they have to do something that would inconvenience themselves. Like find someone else to potentially date or maybe change some behaviors that might make them more suitable to the person they want or learn to accept the fact people don’t always get what they think they want.
Really, if I had caved he would have had a miserable time of it because it was clear to me that he had this whole “I’ll save you from your terrible life as a single mom!” Attitude. I can’t imagine a more demoralizing situation than realizing that the person you want to heroically save a) is quite happy with her life as is b) qite capable of fixing her own problems and c) has no interest in getting other people to fix her life problems for her d) does not see being a single parent as a desperate situation she’s willing to sell her values out just to have a man.
Wow, pillowinhell. That sounds deeply disturbing and creepy.
Chuckeedee said:
Oh, does “authentic love” refer to fucking someone who’s too intoxicated to say no? ‘Cause last time I saw you around here you were saying that wasn’t “real rape” so it must have been “authentic love”.
@Pillow- I actually had a guy like this who was basically the sort who, once he decided he wanted someone, could not get over them. From the beginning when we met, I told him I was already involved with two other people and was not open to adding a third sexual partner into my closed triumverant. He said he was ok with that, and then would pay for all my food no matter where we went (I was a literal starving student, had just moved away for the last two years of college and all my money was going to rent- I had zero food money and my parents would not give me any money for food). When my living situation became abusive (I was living in a converted hallway- my “landlord” who rented me the room was living in the apartment and would shout at me for trying to run to the bathroom to pee and when I locked the door or was talking on the phone, he’d stand out side the door and shout “I KNOW YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT ME” (I think he was on drugs or something), I would sleep on the couch at his apartment (he shared it with three other guys who were always up in the common room and were incredibly geeky/nerdy types who were not at all interested in me sexually, so it was relatively safe). Even though he generally never pushed boundaries, there were a couple times when he got a bit more grabby than I was comfortable with, and he was the sort of guy who would wait and then walk with me to the midnight eatery and pay for a meal because I was starving after having worked back to back shifts at the computer lab.
He was a needed person in my life at the time, and I explained to him in detail before he did all of these things that I would likely not be able to pay him back or start a sexual relationship with him, but I think he just thought if he pushed hard enough he’d get me to date him or something.
I did my best to clean his apartment and cook dinners for him and his roommates and offer use of my car when he wanted to go to Costco, but other than those things, it was very hard for me to feel like I wasn’t being one of those “evil bitches” who mooch off of the Poor Nice Guy ™.
But I was in a really horrible place- alone, without any support network, neglectful (but fairly rich) parents who wouldn’t help me with any money for food when I was seriously starving, etc, and he really saved me.
So I’m not really sure how I feel about that situation. I mean, on one hand, I felt like I was taking advantage, but on the other hand I was honest about it, and he seemed willing to behave like that.
I am not really sure I’ve ever been so ashamed of taking help in my life. 🙁
I still feel dirty that at some point I felt that after all he’d done for me that he “deserved” some kind of sexual “payment” even though I never actually did anything sexual with him.
I fucking hate the transaction model of sex.
So it must have been “authentic love”? What have you been smokin’, dude?
Authentic love includes the ability to recognize that an intoxicated dingbat has nothing that you could possibly desire. Authentic love includes the ability to understand that for an intoxicated dingbat without the capacity to take responsibility for her dumb choices, sex has little meaning, her sexuality is of little value, she has little capacity to love, and rape, at its worst (presuming that on the odd occasion she failed to enjoy it), has all the impact of a bad-hair day. Authentic love also includes the ability to pity, but this does not diminish one’s capacity to see that such a person has nothing to offer you.
As a side-note… why do feminists keep wanting to embrace intoxicated dingbats as allies? Shouldn’t you be distancing yourselves from them, telling them to get a grip and take responsibility for their idiotic choices? Aren’t intoxicated dingbats diametrically opposed to career grrrls in charge?
I am vehemently opposed to any person being taken advantage of, even if they are being stupid.
Or do you also think that people who go up to their date’s apartment only to find out he’s a serial killer and get murdered were “asking for it”?
Do you think that people who let a friend borrow some money are “suckers”?
Do you think that pretty much anyone anywhere DESERVES to be exploited if they are “stupid” or someone else “gets away” with doing somethint unwanted to them?
It’s just as wrong to steal a wallet from someone’s pocket as it is to steal it from their car, even if they were “stupid” and left the doors unlocked.
Why should sex be any different?
Or, once again, let’s change this to you being drunk for whatever reason- do you believe that if you are excessively drunk that a gay man should “get away” with raping you while you are passed out?
What is the difference between this situation which would affect you directly and the aforementioned drunk dingbat who gets raped?
Being raped sucks. I don’t think that ANYONE should be raped. EVER. Regardless of how “stupid” they behave.
PS: Let’s not make straw feminists, ok (seriously? “Career GRRLS?”)? I have a job because I need a job, because I have a family and my husband (who has to work too), kids and myself have to eat. We need medical benefits. We need a roof over our heads. This shit doesn’t magically appear out of nowhere. Only a very very select privileged few really ever get the “career” that they WANT to have. Most of us just have JOBS- we make the best of said jobs and often enjoy doing them, but they are still jobs for money- I wouldn’t do that shit for free. Most poor women in most of the world have always worked, it’s just that most of them have always worked for shitty wages at jobs that are not recognized by society as being worthwhile (caretaker, washerwoman, wetnurse, teacher, etc).
I am not a feminist because I have a job. I have a job *AND* I am a feminist. I can’t understand why this is so hard for certain people to comprehend. I can be both things without them having to directly relate or correlate to one another.
No disagreement here. There is no excuse for anyone to rape, ever. But that does not mean that you should trash the rights of the accused on the say-so of a dingbat who possesses all the flawed character traits of a pig and a liar.
Uh, dude, intoxicated dingbat pigs are raped too. In fact, there have been rape survivors that I found *incredibly* obnoxious as people, but I still supported them in whatever way I could (mostly raising awareness within the community that their rapists had raped them).
Also, I’ve had a lot of casual sex, and a rape still has more effect on me than a bad hair day. I assume the same would be true if I had casual sex while drunk.
Also, the reason I embrace intoxicated dingbats!
1) People are allowed to do what they like with their own bodies, and that includes getting drunk and having casual sex.
2) Lots of people get drunk and have casual sex *and* have careers; they are not mutually exclusive categories.
3) Getting drunk and having casual sex is not morally wrong, as long as it makes you happy and you aren’t hurting anyone else.
4) Fuck the idea that a “career grrrl” is the only right thing to be.
Authentic love does seem tied very closely to the phrase “intoxicated dingbat.”
What are you deliberately misrepresenting me for? I’m not saying let the accused go. I’m saying respect his rights, in accordance with the rule of law, in the interests of basic standards of evidence and fairness… all the more crucial, given that an intoxicated pig has a higher likelidhood of being a bare-faced LIAR.