We Hunted The Mammoth
Let’s take another stroll through the strange wonderland of Men Going Their Own Way, that small and bitter tribe of men who boldly declare their independence from women, then spend the rest of their lives obsessively talking about them.
Today, let’s look at the thoughtful discussion that ensued when one such fellow known as TDG asked his Brothers in Going Their Own Way why, of all the women they have Gone Their Own Way from (but not really), they tend to prefer women who are “chaste.”
From Comedy Central’s Inside Amy Schumer, here’s a little skit taking on the phenomenon of the Nice Guy. No fedoras so be seen, but other than that she pretty much covers all the bases, right on down to the neckbeards on some of the fellas. Caution: Mild creepshaming.
NOTE TO ANGRY MRAS: This video does not represent an official statement on the part of feminism. Amy Schumer is a COMEDIAN.
Hey, Chicago readers: If you can make it up to Evanston this Monday, I’ll be giving a talk titled “Escape from the Planet of the Friend Zone,” exploring some of the mythology of this dreaded place. The talk, like my talk two years ago, will be part of Northwestern’s Annual Sex Week, sponsored by the College Feminists. (The talk itself is cosponsored by NU’s Men Against Rape and Sexual Assault.)
It’s at 7 PM in Kresge Hall 4365, which is on the Southern end of campus, near “the rock.” (Here’s a map.) If you’re taking the el, get off at the Foster stop and head east; then a little ways south when you hit campus. I’ll check about parking for non-students and provide details later.
The last time I gave a talk during Northwestern’s Sex Week, some MRAs got a little overexcited and started making up things about what they assumed my talk was about. (They were wrong.) So, just to make clear: I will not be teaching impressionable college students “how to have good sex,” except insofar as I will be talking about how sexist and self-defeating the concept of the Friend Zone is, which means it’s possible that some dude could attend the lecture and decide to stop whining about getting stuck in the Friend Zone, and thus improve his romantic and sexual prospects with that one simple step.
I haven’t finished writing the talk yet, so if any of you have any thoughts on the Friend Zone — or the closely related topic of the “nice guy” — let me know in the comments below.
I’m also curious about what role the concept of the Friend Zone plays in your everyday lives, so I’m going to spit out a bunch of questions that I may address in the talk and may ask the students as well. I’d be interested in your answers.
Have you ever been put in a situation that you or other people might describe as the Friend Zone? Whose fault do you think it was? Have you ever been accused of putting someone else in the Friend Zone? Did you find this insulting? Has someone else, through their own obsequiousness, put themselves in the Friend Zone with you?
Is the Friend Zone a male thing or are there a significant number of women and girls who find themselves friendzoned as well?
Does the notion of the Friend Zone grow out of male entitlement? Is it a fundamentally manipulative to try to pressure a woman into romance and sex? Or does it grow out of male awkwardness — the inherently difficult situation of shy or perhaps socially awkward guys who are still nonetheless expected to be the ones who pursue women rather than the other way around, as MRA types might argue?
When did the term start getting used? The concept is certainly not new, but I don’t think the term is that old. When did you all first start hearing it?
How can guys (or gals) get out of the Friend Zone?
Can a Friend Zone situation — by which I mean one in which one person is romantically interested and the other isn’t — be transformed into a real friendship, or will the different feelings/expectations of the two people make this impossible?
Alternately, can a Friend Zone situation turn into a real romance?
Is the Friend Zone really a useful concept at all? There are very few relationships — platonic, romantic or purely sexual — in which each partner feels the exact same way about the other. There are mismatches all the time. Shouldn’t we just learn to roll with it? Maybe the answer to the old When Harry Met Sally question — can a man be friends with a woman he’s attracted to? — is, “why the hell not?”
In case anyone was wondering, the Men Going Their Own Way movement has managed to survive the implosion of MGTOWforums.com that I wrote about a little while ago. Yep, the regulars from there have moved on to several new forums where they continue to celebrate their independence from the women of the world by happily discussing such manly hobbies as video games, model trains, taxidermy and knitting.
Oh, who am I kidding? They don’t talk about any of that stuff. Basically they continue to nurse their grudges against the women who wouldn’t date them in high school, somehow convincing themselves that the best way to be “free” of women is to obsess about them every minute of every day.
Take the charming fella who calls himself ManWithAPlan, who has managed to win himself nearly 1900 “likes” from his comrades on the MGTOW HQ message boards with comments like the following:
I hate [women] because most of them acted like stuck up cunts when they were young and hot. Then they hit 30+ and decide to settle down, and when there are no men to settle down, they start shaming men. This is where most of my hate/negativity comes from, the fact that these women feel entitled to “good” men after having spent the last 15-20 years telling guys “just because you bought me a drink/dinner doesn’t mean I owe you sex”.
And every woman acts this way. Oh you want to slut it up? Sure go ahead and be a cum rag, but I would never date a cum rag. And how would they react to that? “Oh well that’s your preference and you’re entitled to it”. Yeah right, they’d flip their shit and go into shaming language ahoy.
The reason I derive so much pleasure from this is because for the first time in their lives women are being held accountable for their actions. And they don’t fucking like it. Remember when some girl/woman got you in trouble for just crying while you weren’t in the wrong? This is fucking payback.
(Emphasis mine.)
This may sound a little harsh, but you need to remember that for most young women, life is just an endless VIP party:
Women are born with their so called value. By 15 or whatever they have the looks and power to attract most men. By 18, depending on how attractive they are, they’re either dating 30 year old millionaires or (if less attractive) fucking the football team. And they retain this value until at some point into their 30’s, sometimes 40’s. Men get nothing. We are born invisible. We have to claw, work and suffer for 2-3 decades before we get any recognition. And by that point, we no longer have the energy or fast metabolism we had in our youth. So that means double time for us.
Women are handed the world on a silver platter, men have to fight for it.
Is the MGTOW movement the least successful “independence” movement ever? They’re like someone who breaks up with you, angrily marches out the front door, slams it behind them — and then spends the next five years on your front porch peering in the window.
Oh, dear. Our old friend Roosh – the rapey, racist expat pickup guru – seems to be having some sort of existential crisis. In a new post titled “Men Are Nothing More Than Clowns To The Modern Woman,” – yes, really – he laments the sad fact that women are no longer forced to rely on men.
There is definitely not a single woman alive in the Western world who needs a man. While in the past a woman had to put forth effort to obtain a husband who would help her survive, today she is protected by a welfare state that ensures she will never go hungry or spend one night on the street.
The HORROR!
Well, Roosh can rest easy, because, at least in the United States, his nightmare of women not going hungry or being forced to sleep on the streets is just that, a bad dream. Presumably he will be pleased to learn that lots of women (and children) go hungry. Lots of women (and children) are homeless.
Even a child she has out of wedlock from a drunken night out will not have to suffer from her mistake, and that’s in spite of the fact that many nations already provide her with free contraception to compensate for her lack of judgement in selecting worthy mates.
A tad ironic coming from a dude who constantly brags about “raw dogging” it – that is, having sex without a condom – with drunk women he’s just met.
Anything required for a woman’s survival or pleasure can be easily achieved without her having to put forth commitment, sacrifice, or labor. She can shave her head, gain 50 pounds, and disfigure herself with tattoos yet still have many suitors to—at the minimum—have sex on demand.
Such a terrible injustice, that women Roosh finds unattractive are actually able to have sex.
Her food and shelter will be provided by a state which has embarked on an extraordinary effort to compete with men for her devotion and loyalty.
So instead of looking for women who say that they “need a man,” Roosh has begun to focus on women who say that they “want a man.” Unfortunately, when he’s asked women if they want a man, “[o]nly in a few instances did a woman outright say yes, and these usually happened in Ukraine.”
Huh. Not sure that’s a real scientific poll there kiddo, as I imagine that very few women are going to answer “yes” to that question when it’s asked of them by this guy:
Anyhoo, so all this has given poor old Roosh a sad. Because women who don’t need men, who actually have options in their lives, are less interested in jumping into traditional long-term relationships than those with few options in life other than hooking themselves to a male provider.
And so, Roosh has sadly concluded, the typical young women of today
will treat you as a distraction to her more important job, girls’ nights out, and social networking validation happy time. Men have become an utterly replaceable and expendable commodity in a girl’s life. Her interest in a man is not unlike her interest in a new television show or Apple product … .
Huh. Or perhaps this is because you’re dating women at least a decade younger than you, in their early 20s, and this is how people in their early 20s often approach dating?
When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see a man who has improved himself over the years to be the best that his genes allow—I see a glittery skirt that a girl encounters in the mall.
You see a what now?
Is the skirt too expensive or is it on sale? Is there only one left of her size or is the rack full of them? Does she already have something similar or is it totally novel? Does her friends think it’s cute or just alright? After trying it on, does it flatter her body or make her look fat?
Dude, this metaphor really isn’t working for you.
We are like glittery pieces of fashion to women—items that she truly doesn’t need. Not only has she already collected so many of them, but she can easily obtain more within walking distance from where she lives. She can even browse online from home while in her pajamas through a nearly unlimited selection.
Oh no! WOMEN HAVE CHOICES!
We are not men in the traditional sense—we are clowns.
Well, some men are.
With our tight game we have to be entertainers who create drama and excitement in a girl’s life, just long enough so that she spreads her legs and makes sexy noises, and even though she did commit such an intimate act with us, she will soon lose interest or simply get bored, and then move on to the next shiny cock that catches her eye.
Gosh, who would imagine that the women you have one-night-stands with after meeting them in a bar would treat you like a one-night-stand?
Also, if your penis is actually shiny, you might want to check with your doctor about that.
The other side of this coin is that we no longer need women. We don’t need them to maintain our home or cook good meals for us. We don’t need them in an age where having children is no longer important or valued.
That is true. Men are not incapable of cooking. I can even manage a grilled cheese sandwich once in a while. And, no, you’re not obligated to have kids. Heck, as a man you can get away with not having kids and not even have to take a lot of shit about it.
Whatever natural connection that once existed between the sexes has now been severed. Neither sex needs each other so we dedicate ourselves to corporations, entertainment, and base pleasures instead, and this is a great tragedy that most people believe is a sign of progress, a cause for celebration.
Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha.
I think Roosh think’s he’s had some sort of profound insight here. All because the 22-year-old women he spends his life pursuing don’t seem interested in properly genuflecting to him as a real man.
For the next girl I meet, I’m not going to ask her if she needs a man, because I know she doesn’t. Instead I will simply ask her if she wants a man, and if the answer leans yes, I will perform like the good clown I am so that she is entertained enough to have sex with me. Either she or I will eventually get bored and the relationship will end. Then I will simply repeat my performance on a someone new, because I’m a skilled clown, and that’s exactly what women today want.
You do that, Roosh, honey. Just try to make sure she’s actually sober enough to consent to your “performance” first. I know you have a little trouble with that.
Here’s a little video for Roosh to watch the next time he’s feeling down.
Ok, ladies. Go do some lady stuff, like vajazzling or banning bossy or having pillow fights or whatever it is you ladies like to do, because we have some MAN STUFF to talk about today. Oh, gay guys, you can leave too. We STRAIGHT MEN are going to be talking about how to develop MAD GAME with the ladies so we can become Master Pickup Artists.
I’d like to start by sharing some dope new information I found on the game blog of ALPHA PLAYBOY “Christian McQueen,” who despite the obviously fake name is an actual real game guru taken seriously by dudes who apparently spend considerable amounts of money on his ebooks and “coaching” and whatnot.
But sometimes, in little acts of mercy for the financially challenged, he shares some of his wisdom with the thirsty men of the world for free.
And that’s the case with his brilliant STARBUCKS OPENER which, again, I am not making up. It is an example of INDIRECT GAME, in that you don’t just walk up to a woman and ask her if she wants to have sex with you. It’s a DAY GAME opener, which you use in the DAY and not at a night club.
Anyway, this is what you do. (You might want to write this down.) You walk up to a sexy lady on the street and you say:
“Excuse me. Do you know where the closest Starbucks is?”
BAM! And you’re IN LIKE FLYNN!
Ok, ok, I can sense that some of you may not appreciate the genius of the STARBUCKS OPENER. Some of you even think it sounds a little dopey and not really very sexy at all. Did Casanova go around asking ladies for directions?
Well, let’s let Mr. McQueen explain why his idea is so freaking brilliant:
The Starbucks Opener is absolute GOLD because of a few reasons that I’ll break down right now:
EVERY girl in the world, well 99.9% of girls, LOVE Starbucks. The moment they hear the word ‘Starbucks’, they get happy.
I went and looked for some polling data to support this statement of his and discovered a Rassmussen poll from 2011 showing that 34% of American coffee drinkers have an unfavorable opinion of Starbucks; an earlier Rassmussen poll found that 73% of Americans think that Starbucks is overpriced and 76% say they rarely if ever visit the stores.
I guess they forgot to ask the cute girls what they thought, huh? Probably a bunch of BETAS.
There’s Starbucks all over the world. If you live in Japan and you’re reading this, you can use this line. If you live in Texas or Canada you can use this line. It’s a Global Friendly Line.
Well, pretty much. I mean, Starbucks is in 64 different countries out of 196 in the world, which means that technically speaking most of the countries in the world don’t actually have any Starbucks in them. There are no Starbucks at all in sub-Saharan Africa, or most countries in South America, or much of Eastern Europe or Central Asia. But frankly, most of the countries that don’t have Starbucks aren’t countries that ALPHA PLAYBOYS want to be hanging out in anyway. Just make sure to check to check this map before you try using this line!
‘Starbucks’ equals comfort drinks/food for most people who go there. When a girl hears the word ‘Starbucks’ come from your mouth, she subconsciously goes to that place of feeling happy, safe, comfortable and content. By it coming out of YOUR mouth, she will automatically associate you with those feelings, albeit to a lesser degree. ANYTHING that you can say that gives you an edge from your opening line is good, because it builds comfort in her.
Other “comfort” words and phrases you might want to try to work into your openers: “pillows,” “puppies,” “mashed potatoes,” and “some place far, far away from Chrisian McQueen.”
When you mention ‘Starbucks’, you’re mentioning a globally recognized BRAND. By being a fan of Starbucks and seeking it out, you’re a part of the ‘club’, the fan club of Starbucks that it.
Chicks LOVE BRANDS! Here’s Forbes’ list of the World’s Most Valuable Brands. See how many you can work into your conversations with the babes! It should be easy to incorporate such well-known names as Microsoft, Oracle, General Electric, Samsung, and Frito-Lay. Extra points if you can manage to mention Siemens without giggling.
When you ask a girl where one is, she’ll automatically put you in the ‘normal human being’ category, because ‘normal’ people drink coffee and usually from Starbucks. Any association with something that is popular and normal helps you build comfort.
Asking where the nearest STARBUCKS is, because you want to drink COFFEE, like a NORMAL PERSON, is good. Asking where the nearest GROCERY STORE DUMPSTER is, because you want to EAT FOOD FROM THE GARBAGE like some DAMN HIPPIE DUMPSTER DIVER is not so good. Unless the babe you’re hitting on is a damn hippie dumpster diver.
You can use STARBUCKS OPENER even if you already know where the nearest Starbucks is, because lying is ok if it helps you to get into a woman’s pants. Just don’t use it if you are literally standing in front of a Starbucks, as field-testing indicates that this approach tends to elicit responses like “right fucking here, you asshole,” and “what the hell is wrong with you?”
Now, Christian McQueen’s advice is good for beginners, but if you’d like to learn how to hit up the ladies Man Boobz style, I suggest that you send me $10,000 for my ebook, MAN BOOBZ GAME which I will start writing the moment someone sends me $10,000 for it.
In it you will learn about 100 different INDIRECT KITTY OPENERS from the basic “I have a kitty,” to more advanced versions like “I have two kitties” to others you’ll have to pay me $10,000 to learn and which I haven’t actually thought up yet, but trust me, they’ll be good.
You’ll learn about DIRECT MAN BOOBZ GAME, achieved by taking indirect openers and adding the phrase “in my pants” to the end of them. Thus “I have kitties” becomes “I have kitties – in my pants.”
You’ll learn the fine art of MAN BOOBZ NEGS and how to respond when the woman you’re talking to gets pissed off that you came up to her out of the blue and insulted her. Take this sample dialogue, using my brilliant “that looks infected” indirect opener which I just thought up thirty seconds ago have extensively field tested.
You: “That looks infected.”
Her: “What the fuck are you talking about? What looks infected?”
You: Um, your nose.”
Her: “My nose is fine, you fucking creep.”
You: “Well, I’ve JUST STARTED MEDICAL SCHOOL so I’m not too good at this diagnosis thing just yet. But in a few years, when I’m MAKING LOTS OF MONEY AS A DOCTOR I will be much better.”
Her: “I only just now noticed how charming and handsome you are.”
Just think, fellas, five or six pages more of this sort of wisdom can be yours for only $10,0000!
I really hope no ladies were reading this because I was really hoping to use the “that looks infected” opener the next time I actually leave my apartment.
So our dear friend Heartiste, the white-supremacist woman-botherer, has assembled a little “Chateau Heartiste Crib Sheet of Game,” a compilation of some of his best pickup advice, boiled down to a few handy tips and clever one-liners that wannabe alpha males can use on the ladies during conversation in order to get their ginas tingling. (Sorry, that’s the way these guys talk.)
Looking at Heartiste’s list of “lines” I was struck by how generic and, well, frankly unoriginal most of them were, from standard issue negs like “nice shoes. Those are really popular now” and “is she always like this?” to old-school PUA cliches like “I don’t buy girls drinks but you can buy me one” and “what else do you have going for you besides your looks?” both of which come straight from peacocking PUA pioneer Mystery, the guy with the fuzzy hat and the long-ago-cancelled VH1 show.
Indeed, a lot of Heartiste’s “lines” are as old and stale as he is:
Don’t get clingy
Miss me already?
Hey, hands off the merchandise
If i didn’t know any better i’d say you were trying to pick me up
So I thought I’d do Heartiste a little favor and write up some new lines for him and his fans that are both more original and a bit more honest. Next time you’re in “da club,” Heartiste, why don’t you try some of these out? Some of these I made up myself; some are taken, or adapted, from things you yourself wrote.
Hi, I spend most of my life on the internet trying to figure out how to manipulate drunk women half my age into bed.
People on the internet know me as Heartiste. No, not Fartiste. With an H. No, it’s not a joke. I thought it up myself.
I like to call black people “darkies.” No, not to their face. Anonymously, on the internet.
I’m an alluringly savvy man self-assuredly parrying the clit-hardened jousts of intrigued women.
Too much outbreeding decreases charitable kin-feeling and incentivizes a decadent ennui that severs the citizen’s sense of obligation to his nation and co-ethnics.
A gentlemanly selectiveness honed by years of experience and psychological nimbleness has proved adequate at filtering out women likely to lay like dead fish in my roiling sea of sperm.
If anyone can usurp the lawyercunt in cuntishness, it’s the Twittercunt.
The walls are closing in on the lords of lies and their feels army of emotabots.
Whether our ruling class knows it or they bumble along like drug addicts seeking the next pleasurable injection of power at any cost, their sex-swapping project will turn the West into matricentric, female forager Africa.
Every time we had sex over the following weeks, it ended with her tucking her knees under her chin naked on the bed to quietly cry into the wrapped bubble of her body.
The only bond that matters in a woman’s heart is the one you caulk in her cock vault.
The ruling elites despise whites, despise the concept of whiteness, and despise especially the idea that the territory and nation and culture from which they parasitically suck the lifeblood was created and sustained primarily by white men.
The id of the Like Me Generation is a furry suit wrapping a toddler.
Women should avoid trying to be funny altogether and stick to maximizing the return on their authentically valuable assets. That would be your tits, ass, face and pussy, in case you were wondering.
That last bit was pure Heartiste. (As were the previous ten.) Like the women of the world, I can’t hope to attain such pinnacles of wit.
Sometimes I scour the internet for hours in search of material for this blog. Other times it just plops right in my lap. Today, it plopped, in the form of a new visitor to this blog by the name of J.S., a 52-year-old married farmer (he said) who brought with him some very old-fashioned ideas about love and romance and how men can best access the “secret gardens” of the pretty ladies of the world.
No, really, he did,proclaming himself an infallable guide to
the ‘secret language’( sub and non-verbal communication), the dating game, or how very attractive women go about choosing which men they let into their secret garden and which ones they don’t.
The primary lesson he tried to impart: that the “secret garden” is a little bit like Fight Club: The first rule of Secret Garden is that dudes can never ask to enter Secret Garden.
How stupid do you have to be to actually believe the following nonsense? Not just regular stupid. Men’s Rights stupid.
Heck, this is even stupid by normal Men’s Rights standards. It made me think of this line from Ruthless People.
So manosphere dudes have a theory of sorts about young women that they frequently boil down to the handy catchphrase “alpha fucks, beta bucks.” The idea is that women — oh, you evil women! — have an insatiable desire to mate with and capture the sperm of hot but unreliable alpha males, and an equally innate tendency to try to con some hard-working beta schlub into paying the bills, with his beta bucks, for the resulting alpha spawn.
