Hey, horny “nice guys,” you know how you’re always saying nice things to girls and sometimes telling they’re pretty in hopes they decide to sleep with you? Or just gawking at them at the gym?
Turns out that this isn’t such a good thing. Not so much because, you know, staring at women like you’re a serial killer might just creep a lot of women out. But because all this attention might well turn these women into stuck-up you-know-whats, which is a major pain for the world’s horny guys.
In a post on Roosh’s Return of Kings blog with the lovely title “How Women Become Worthless,” some dude named Edward Thatch explains the deadly consequences of people being nice to pretty ladies.
These women, he writes,
start out as decent specimens, but somehow manage to find themselves on the red pill man’s pump-and-dump list. This is a bittersweet topic for me, because while I enjoy a random romp with girls who have managed to concentrate all of their worth between their legs, I’m also well aware of the many added benefits of girlfriending up a good one.
So how do these women become worthless bitches? Well, you see, there’s this thing called the Peter Principle, which suggests that people get promoted and promoted until they end up with a job that’s beyond their capabilities. (Never mind all those people out there who are actually a good fit for their jobs.)
Anyhoo, this happens to pretty ladies too!
A pretty girl posts a sexy pic on facebook and you click like.
You just promoted her.
The same girl goes to the gym, and a dozen guys stare at her like hungry wolves.
Promoted again. …
Everything that comes out of her pretty little mouth is super relevant and interesting to the guys who want to bang her.
Promoted again.
Her beta orbiters trip over themselves trying to please her just for the satisfaction of being near her.
Promotion!
The list goes on and on, but you get the idea. From the day she’s born until the day she slams into the wall in her mid-30s, she just keeps being promoted until she reaches her level of incompetence. When the day comes that she can’t live up to the position she’s trying to fill – most awesome, sexy and unique thing everrrrr – she becomes a worthless self-centered bore who ends up in my phone as “Blonde HB7 Tiny Boobs Wrist Tattoo.”
Who knew that life for women was nothing more than an endless parade of male flattery? Or that women feel empowered whenever creepy dudes blatantly ogle their bodies at the gym.
So some women end up thinking that they’re pretty. What’s the harm here? Well, you see, men suffer enormously when women think they’re even a teensy bit hotter than they “really” are. It’s much better for everyone – if by “everyone” you mean all the guys trying to sleep with them – if women hate themselves a little. Or a lot.
Unfortunately, Thatch laments, it’s men who are to blame for women thinking too highly of themselves.
We create these monsters by promoting otherwise good women far above their grade. If you’re doing this, I respectfully ask you to stop.
As it stands now, these poor overpromoted women end up hitting the proverbial wall when they hit the age of 30, or 25, or 15, or whatever, and suddenly become transformed from young hotties into old hags. And while this is, Thatch proclaims, “a hilarious version of downsizing that sends the old, fat or ugly ones to the feminist welfare line,” he also thinks this is not economically efficient.
Far better for men to handle the “sexual marketplace” in a more rational and efficient way, he concludes, “by knocking off the beta orbiting, white knighting, and supplication that keeps promoting these women to positions they cannot handle.”
Surprisingly, Thatch’s argument provokes some dissent amongst Roosh’s Neanderthal followers. Stuki, for example, points out that Facebook likes might not amount to a damn in this crazy world.
A problem with this diagnosis, is that a single pump and dump … by a perceived alpha or “hot guy”, counts for more than a million Facebook likes, as far as perception of being “promoted” goes. …
It’s not as if women don’t feel equally “promoted” by the guy trying to feel her up at the bar, just because he throws her some neg first, instead of a compliment. IOW, the solution to women being bitches, is not men becoming assholes. If being a whore had real, serious and immediate consequences, women would largely stop being whores. But as long as the only consequence is that she will “forced” to go out alone, and get her “revenge” on her “intolerant”, “sexist” and “Stepford Wife obsessed” ex, by being banged in a toilet stall by someone ostensibly (through beer goggles, if nothing else) handsomer and more “alpha” than he was, she’ll never get it. Whether Mr. Toilet Stall Banger negs her or compliments her first, doesn’t really matter.
Note that Stuki here apparently thinks he’s somehow not already an asshole.
VargisBitch takes issue, a little bit, with the term “worthless.”
They are not worthless but … western women reach a point of uselessness. They have value in the beginning but at that time, they dont use that value for anything serious other that getting pumped left and right, attention whoring etc, you know, the sex and the city dream..after many years of this they are just beyond rescue, their self insteem is inflated beyond any reasonable level…plus they are getting rather old. So yea, at that exact moment, they become wortless. But they still have no reason to panic, there are hordes of horny bluepill men, who didnt get sex during THEIR prime , to pick the sorry remains..
When you understand the dynamics behind this, you are a redpill man.
Most commenters seem to agree, though, with the broad outlines of Thatch’s, er, analysis. Madvillain complains that there are even a few “white knights” to be found even in the manly world of the manosphere.
While there are almost no white night panderers in the manosphere, when a commenter comes along with the user name like “”just a girl”, or “SunshineMary”, guys will breath in that pussy scent wafting from the female name on their computer monitor and congregate around her, demonstrating their alpha intelligence by explaining the ways of the world to the cute little lamb.
Hammer, meanwhile, fantasizes about putting fat ladies in camps.
You can’t just haul off all the worthless ones and put them in some adjacent zone to live in. Instead you have to step into every relationship with a girl knowing she’s going to lie at some point, that she’ll try to manipulate to gain the upperhand, that she will try to contribute very little if anything and that she will start acting difficult at some point along the way, and for what? I honestly don’t know how men have tolerated the crap women throw at them for so long. …
I never thought I’d say this but maybe a benevolent dictator would be good for a while. A red pill dictator, who would put all the fatties into one zone, we’ll call it the Fat Zone, another can be called the Fem Zone for feminists, all manner of zones so that they could live among their ilk. Want join the Athletic Zone where people are in reasonable good shape? Lose weight, stop eating. Want to join the Equal Zone where men and women are treated equal where men do not give most of the social, economic and legal benefits to women? Sign a contract stating such explicitly. Want to join the Man Zone where the men make the rules and rule the roost? Sign on the dotted line gals. Everyone can get what they truly want. Maybe it won’t be perfect but I sure as hell would prefer it.
Turbo the Drycleaner, who apparently is too manly to bother with the shift key, doesn’t think that technology is the issue here.
beta males are no new invention and have existed, in large numbers, since time began. they are not going away. just because online dating and facebook have immortalized their hamfisted attempts at getting poosy dosnt mean it didnt happen before. girls would get all sorts of looks, gifts, and marrage proposals way back when that fed their egos. you could say that because they are now online, a woman can have constant access to validation but thats not a whole lot diffrent than living in a rural area, as many used to, and seeing the same orbiters every day.
Days of Broken Arrows disagrees:
White knighting was less a problem before the Internet age. You could only stare at a woman so long and most Betas didn’t just walk up to strange women and compliment them.
But nowadays, Facebook and Instagram are major ego-stroking devices for women. Someone needs to do a post called “NEVER like a woman’s Facebook photo.” The massive amount of orbiters on FB makes me ill.
One day in 1955, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus for a white man, and helped to usher in a civil rights revolution. Could Days of Broken Arrows’ brave refusal to “like” women’s Facebook pictures usher in a similar revolution, this time for men who are so terribly bruised and oppressed by women with self-esteem?
That’s us Yanks. We like our beer cold and our yogurt wobbly.
Carly, I think it helps to take a look things like the beauty culture, slut shaming and street harassment. All of those things have a womans appearance is everything. Beauty culture sets up every woman to fail. Even the super models wear a shit ton of make up AND EVEN THEN have their photos distorted with computer “retouches”. Sluts are always in the eye of the beholder, how many women can tel stories of all the times they’d been called a slut while still being a virgin or having had only one partner? How many women are treated like sluts or disregarded because of men who think that’s how all women deserve to be treated? I think realizing that a womans appearance is set up to fuck us over everytime and drain away our time, money and attention form other important matters is something that helps to overcome the problem. So does shutting out the voices in media and other places at least when you’re at home.
When I was in my teens I wore make up and fashion like it was armor. That lasted a couple years until I realized that all that effort prevented me from doing things I wanted to do (because fixing hair, make up and wardrobe constatly is a pain) and the best I could hope for was a patronizing pat on the head for a fashionable ditz and the worst is being told that I deserve the harrassment I got because look at how I dress.
All that being said, there’s nothing inheitantly wrong with make up or wanting to look a certain way. Its how others percieve you that’s the problem, and as far as I’m concerned its their problem NOT YOURS.
Just remind yourself that there is far more to you than your appearance and what other people think is none of your business.
This.
We see this in how the MRA refers to women. Make-up and nice clothes? “Vain, pretentious, good for nothing.” No make-up, jeans and a t-shirt? “Feminazi who can’t put any effort into her appearance.”
It’s a no-win scenario. If you manage to follow the the beauty standard perfectly and be that perfect person–then you’re good for nothing but that beauty. To win at the game is to lose.
The game is rigged.
The other issue is that, in the eyes of many, and as evidenced by multiple MRA comments, a woman’s beauty fades with age until it disappears entirely. Personally I find Jamie Lee Curtis, Helen Mirren,and Judy Dench as sexy as hell, and I see the younger 20s female actresses as just pretty much cookie cutter copies of each other and sooooooooo boring. But if you internalise this beauty == worth idea, then you’ll have issues as you age. You will view your self-worth slipping away.
Ah ageing. Not only are there the changes that you can sometimes minimise (depending on genetics): wrinkles (avoid smoking, sun bathing), frown lines (get laugh lines instead!), but there is also the stuff that is hard to do anything about. For example, your calorie requirements decrease as you age, I think the daily energy intake suggestions are in 5- or 10-year age bands. In your 40s (sigh) you only need something like 2/3 of the energy intake you needed in your 20s just to maintain weight. So you actually need to decrease calorie intake as you get older to not put on weight, holding it constant will actually make you gain weight.
Now, add to that that many women don’t meet calcium intake requirements (extremely important for osteoporosis prevention). Unless you like chowing down on calcium tablets each day, calcium can often be in foods that tend to have a higher fat content (e.g. dairy). So it can be difficult to get all your nutrients and still be at a good weight.
There’s always cosmetic surgery, but that can be an awful path to start on emotionally, as well as financially. Disclaimer: I do *not* put reconstructive surgery into this category, as that is clearly different (e.g. fixing a cleft palate, breast reconstruction surgery, breast reduction surgery, removal of excess skin post gastric banding). But once cosmetic surgery “fixes” one “problem”, they’ll always be another one that displays itself to you.
If it’s Suz socking as a dude, well then, that’s another nail in the coffin of her claim to be the mom of a college student.
Your logic is pathetic. Boners are caused by fluid pressure inside of a the corpus cavernosum due to constriction of smooth muscle tissue near the base of the penis blocking off blood flow. Vibration involves mechanical oscillation which would require rhythmic muscular contractions of the bulbospongious muscle. This NEVER happens. Nice try though, hellkell.
Demarq, DUH. I was making fun of your pathetic attempt swiping at drst.
Besides, they do make vibrating cock rings, which are fun. Too bad you MRAs are too insecure about your junk.
This has to be Suz.
…Weren’t we just talking about guys who don’t understand humor and just take everything at face value?
Yes, Katz, we were. And Demarcq ran right into it.
Presumably the dick of my Aunt’s dog vibrates.
Poor baby is a very nervous boy, and as a result he vibrates all the time.
Meanwhile, rats are being nicer than MRAs.
First off, internet hugs if you want them.
I agree with everything Howard said, but I want to add a touch more to it. Yeah, people here have been talking about how they don’t care about how others perceive their appearance, but the thing is, women who genuinely don’t give a shit if they are perceived as “pretty” or “ugly” are either (a) very much in the minority, (b) at that point after a process of learning how not to care, or (c) lucky enough to be so very conventionally attractive that they’ve never faced significant negative consequences for not caring. (That third one is very, very rare, because no matter how conventionally gorgeous a woman might be, there are generally plenty of douchebags ready and willing to explain how she is simultaneously too fat, too thin, too tall, too short, and too generally terrible for their personal boners.)
A while back, I helped a friend a little bit with her doctoral sociology thesis, which was specifically about women and body image in American culture. In the course of it, she interviewed about 150 women and girls, from a wide variety of races, ages, social classes, body types, et cetera. One question she asked them all was, “Is there a part of your body you particularly hate?” She expected most of them to have something that they hated because of how it looked – but it wasn’t just “most.” Literally all of them immediately had an answer (and quite a few of them had answers along the lines of “several,” “too many to list,” or “all of them”). Women hated their stomachs, their breasts, their thighs, their noses, their freckles, their hair – name a part, and someone in her study hated it. And these weren’t a bunch of stupid, shallow, somehow-terrible women – quite a lot of the women she studied actively identified as feminists, talked about how stupid the culture of judging women’s bodies was, and said things like “I know it’s dumb to care about this…” while describing the parts of themselves they hated. The hardest on themselves tended to be younger women – college-aged girls, in particular, are apparently mostly seething masses of self-loathing, at least based on my friend’s experience. We are, as women, absolutely deluged every day with the idea that our worth as a person is defined by how pleasing we are to the boners of every dude ever, and even if you (rightly) reject that as a load of bullshit, it’s hard to keep some of the tendrils of bullshit from snaking your way into your brain. You can know, objectively, that you are an awesome human being and that doesn’t magically disappear because you got a pimple on your nose or gained five pounds, but fear isn’t objective or rational, and we are trained and conditioned downright constantly to see pimples and excess weight (and “muffin tops” and “cankles” and “camel toes” and whatever other asinine term the popular culture comes up with next for “women’s bodies being all HUMAN and stuff”) as things to be feared, things that make us lesser. It doesn’t make you a bad feminist if you’re not impervious to culture – that simply makes you a pretty normal human being. It only makes you a bad feminist if you encourage that culture to keep tearing down other girls.
And, for the record, I suppose I should note that I say this as a recovering anorexic. I say “recovering” and not “former,” despite it having been nearly a decade since I tried to starve myself to death, because while I may have beaten the disorder enough to make myself eat normally, my relationship with food is never going to be an emotionally healthy one, and I still look in the mirror and think “ew, I’m ugly and terrible and worthless, ew” pretty much every day. I just mentally smack myself afterwards and make myself add, “no, I’m a smart, funny, kind, loving, spiffy human being whom many people care about, and that would be true even if I were terribly ugly, rather than just ugly-as-far-as-my-broken-brain-is-concerned.” And then I go try to spread that message to others, especially young girls, because every girl deserves to feel like she matters no matter what her body looks like, and that her beauty is defined not by whether her skin is without blemish or she wears a size 0 but by how she makes the world a better place by being in it. If that makes me a bad feminist, I’m pretty sure the standards for feminism have gotten silly. :-p
Yes to everything Polliwog mentioned. It really does come down to be asked to hate one’s own slef.
Of course they’re not silly. We all know the real standard for being a good feminist is that you have to sacrifice a dog to the grand high empress of women. Who is either Dworkin or Hillary Clinton. Or are they the same person? Maybe all women are really the same person, via the magic of the internet, the same way MRsteeLe is all of our trolls? I think that’s probably the standard.
Slef as a typo would’ve been okay in the funny half of my message, but I went to made my offering to Typos, god of typos, in the serious half. It makes me sad.
Nooo, not the doggies… 🙁
D’awwwwwww, all the little stubby waggy tails! *dies of teh cute*
@CarleyBlue
I’m going to second Pilow in Hell. Not caring about your appearance is hard. I’m terrified that no one is going to love me when I’m old because I won’t be cute anymore. Which is crazy because I’m smart and funny and awesome and very loveable.
And any partner worth having will think these things about you. Any partner worth having will think your gorgeous when you wake up in the morning and hang onto every word you say, and they won’t care about how much effort you put into looking “acceptable.”
My advise to you is to find new friends. Find people who don’t say mean things about strangers and like to affirm people’s worth instead of destroy. Hang out with them. Soak in the positivity. Read things that are self-affirming, like Captain Awkward. http://captainawkward.com/
And feeling like this doesn’t make you bad or shallow. It makes you human. And just remember that you are wonderful just the way you are and deserve to love yourself.
@Polliwog and others: You know, I actually think I look good and I don’t hate any part of my body. Now, I’m not trying to claim that this makes me more enlightened than other women or some shit like that; I could come up with various psychological hypothesis as to why this happens to be the case with me that doesn’t involve me being extra virtuous or profound or anything. BUT it’s a fact about my psychology that no, I don’t hate anything on my body and yep, perfectly happy with the way I look.
Now if you add to this fact that I’m
– a philosopher (clearly a useless job)
– 35 years OOOOOLD
– has slept with lots of people in my life
– and SWEDISH
… do you think I might qualify as an MRA antichrist?
Oh, I hope so… 😀
I just read Polliwog’s post and yes. All of that. I have never met a woman (who talked to me about it) who is truly confident in her looks. We have a cultural disease.
Which is part of why I dislike random compliments. This random person, by commenting on my appearance rather then my deeds is reinforcing the idea that that is all I’m worth. And I’m scared that it’s true.
Also, I love the concept of Schrodinger’s Bits.
Carleyblue – seconding what everyone said, and adding any internet hugs you may want!
I had the process of learning not to care about what randoms think about my appearance, too. It was a combination of things. First, all the kids at high school who started the “you’re ugly” bit for me were the nastiest, most bullying, ignorant pack of louts (boys and girls) you could imagine. They despised anyone who knew anything about anything except the latest pop group or football. I despised them in return and certainly didn’t want their good opinion, and I had no interest in boys whatsoever; they could have disappeared from the planet and I wouldn’t have missed them. But that sort of insidious, constant belittling sank in, and I had most of my adulthood so far living with the “I am not attractive” meme even though I knew the source was poisoned and it meant nothing.
But I was never looking for male approval in general because by the time I was eighteen I’d seen Louis’s picture and fallen for him, and he’s been my focus – without the expectation of return – most of the time since. I’ve never liked male attention because it was never going to be reciprocated and, like others, I don’t trust the motives. Add to all this the joys of growing older (I’m nearly 50), middle-age spread and gravity, and it didn’t make for an “I love my appearance” mindset. It was only when Louis and I got in contact about six years ago and he made it very clear (word and deed, heheh) that he loves me because of who I am, because we’re the matching pieces in the jigsaw, and that he loves every damn thing about this earthly body just as it is, regardless of what I do about my appearance, and finds me beautiful, that my feelings about myself changed. Sure, I wear makeup – I need sunscreen anyway and it smooths out the colour of rosacea. The “you must present yourself in X fashion” message still has its hangovers; I doubt I’ll be free of that for a while. But my ability to think “get fucked” about what random men might think of me comes from very particular circumstances. It’s only partly to do with feminism. Like everyone said, your feelings do not reflect on your Official Feminist Status one little bit.
Hugs again
Yeah, I can’t claim any virtue about not giving a fuck about my appearance. Its just the way I am.
Carve yourself out a little space where you can just be you without the judgement Carly. It helps. Also, so does life drawing classes. That’s when I saw what real living human beings really look like, and those bodies may not be beautiful, but they are pretty wonderous to sketch. Or you could study art history, where your body type or facial features are a better match. Those women and men in the paintings aren’t any less beautiful because they no longer conform to the beauty ideal.
I also would like to say that for some of us at least, the “fuck what everyone else is thinking about my appearance” is at least partly a “fake it till you make it” attitude. Just because you understand the mechanics of it doesn’t mean you’re not ensnared in it.
RE: yogurt
I am a Greek yogurt FIEND. It probably supplies a heavy percentage of my protein, and it is so delicious. I’m lucky; the only variety I can get that’s not fucking low fat or flavored happens to be a good brand, and also the cheapest. (Cabot Greek-Style. GOOOOODDDDLY.)
One of the things I miss most about NZ was how omnipresent making your own yogurt was. Damn but I miss my Easi-Yo maker. 🙁
I have issues regarding food, which means I tend to be that obsessive label checker. I don’t want anything in my yogurt but yogurt, dammit. If I’m going to sweeten it or put fruit in it, I’ll do it my own damn self with fruit, honey, or Carnation Breakfast Essentials. Gelatin and HFCS just… D8 (My husband is trying to wean me onto the idea that ocassional HFCS is not a terrible thing, but it’s slow going.)
RE: Appearance
It’s different for me. I am not the body I wear in public. MY body is one only a single digit number of people have seen or ever will see. So the corporeal body to me is just a car, a vehicle and interface for me to get around in. I try to take care of it, because you know, it’s the right thing to do, but anyone who fixates on it much just gives me the creeps. It’s like a guy mistaking your car for you!