Sexual strategy is like that scene at the end of Wargames where Joshua the computer tries to launch nuclear weapons and start World War 3; the computer cycles-through launch codes quickly while keeping the bits of code that are a positive match. Most people unconsciously allow their brain to do this work, matching behaviors with their positive outcomes, and bookmarking those behaviors while discarding the ineffective.
The conversation almost always goes like this when you tell someone that everything a person does stems from a foundation of sexual strategy: they listen patiently, provide the socially customary nods of understanding, and then say something like, “well, okay, but not everything…”
This certainly seems like it could be the case; it almost feels reductionist on some level to think that men and women are constantly being guided through their choices and actions by some invisible force emanating from their genitalia, silently screaming at them to just get it the fuck in like a pack of dogs in heat. That there must be a special designation, or a degree of intellectual sophistication , which separates the human animal from his more primitive underlings.
And this is certainly true; the human animal is civilized. We are conscious of a wider-span of potential emotions, and are gifted with the ability to fulfill more significant goals than simply eating and fucking. We can shape our consciousness with language, and vocabulary, and with language comes access to higher level thinking.
It’s a lot like when you were a kid in kindergarten, at the beginning of the school year, with all your little school supplies. You mom could have gotten you the boring eight pack of Crayolas, but you wanted the big box of sixty-four; you know, the kind that comes with the crayon sharpener. So instead of just “red” and “blue,” you had a whole variety of different shades of the same color to pick from, and lucky you, right?
There was a kind of charming innocence to Sally Rapehoax and her wild tales of repeated violation. It was the mid-1990s, a decade defined by the supposedly deep and emotionally esoteric secret lives of women. Tori Amos and the Lilith Fair exemplified this tone; the female identity needed to be something markedly different and incomprehensible to men.
Sally’s claims of rape were inoffensive because there was no perpetrator named; the claim was entirely about Sally and her own identity. To believe Sally meant that she was a victim saddled with a sexuality so strong that it engendered an overwhelming animalistic lust in men who were willing to risk their lives to have her by any means necessary; to believe Sally was a liar meant she was a deeply troubled girl with a wild imagination. Either way, you’re going to feel sympathetic to Sally, so mission accomplished. This kind of rape accusation carried with it the wistful innocence of Jack Horner shooting naughty movies on film- you know it’s wrong, but it’s not really hurting anyone either.
The most efficient way of understanding the truth about Female Nature is doing a quick reversal of the kind of Feminist theory that has become mainstream thought over the last half-century.
Women do, in-fact, need men; womanhood is defined through manhood.
If we understand the form of Masculinity as a man’s “efficiency in acquiring power, his comfort in holding power, and his ability to maintain power,” we can understand the Form of Femininity as a woman’s comfort in submitting to power.
The best horror isn’t low-brow schlock; the most effective horror plays on the subconscious anxieties of its audience. Most people need some degree of delusion to get to sleep at night; denial of death, denial of change, the affirmation of safety, the affirmation of identity. Without willful ignorance a person would be overwhelmed by life.
Horror pierces that nerve within the controlled environment of fiction; where the stakes are imaginary but the emotional ride can feel real.
If a child’s greatest fear is parential adbandomnent, and a woman’s greatest fear is sexual violation by an undesirable, a man’s greatest fear is his disposability; a man is only worth as much as the value he is able to contribute- if this value dissipates, the man is rendered worthless.
The unconfident beta-male lives in a constant state of fear that he will be rendered worthless to his woman; apt for disposal and replacement. The beta-male fears the confident, experienced Alpha male. He fears a future where the attractive Alpha may take fleeting interest in his woman, and he fears a past where his woman has experienced what it’s like to be with a real man– she knows the difference and secretly snickers at the beta-male’s pathetic little cock.
Casey Anthony epitomized something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as I sat on my couch, eating Cocoa Puffs and smoking a bong, watching the coverage of her trial during a comfortably warm evening in the Summer of 2011.
There was something missing from my life at the time… I wasn’t conscious of it, but felt its weight all the same. It wasn’t that I was unhappy, I was certainly comfortable; I had a passionless career with the faux-achievement of a master’s degree, I had a fat girlfriend who was acrazy bitch but Iloved her anyway, and I spent my free time feeling good… after all, life was about maximizing consumption while sleep-walking through minimal responsibility. The idea of ambition beyond this baseline, or the contribution of value to a community, were equally foreign and laughable to me.
But even still… alternating between video games, television, pornography, processed food, whimpering oxytocin, and marijuana left a fuzzy feeling on my brain that something wasn’t quite right, but I wasn’t quite ready to see it yet…
Does nearly limitless choice translate to a greater degree of personal happiness?
Do you spend more time picking movies on Netflix… or it Hulu? YouTube or cable… maybe your own collection, than you do… wait, did you even pick a streaming service yet?
The Paradox of Choice is a theory stating that when there is a dramatic increase in options the more difficult it then becomes to make a choice, and the easier it is to regret the choice made. The greater availability of excessive choice leads to an increase in expectation of how satisfying the options will be- this ultimately produces a less satisfying result, even when the result would have otherwise been adequate.
Women say rape is about power because that is how they primarily understand sex; an exchange of power. A woman can wield her sexuality to the detriment of a man- the proverbial carrot on a stick- in order to manipulate ruthlessly to her own end… or completely relinquish this power, taking intense pleasure in relinquishment, when a man exceeds her threshold of attraction.
It bears repeating that real rape is a vile crime on par with brutal assault and a notch below murder- as serious as a crime can get.
However, Fake Rape is an overt power-grab by abusing the cultural and evolutionary dynamic of men lacking inherent public sympathy while women enjoy a nearly infinite supply of it.
The mainstream media and feminists alike understand that people are inherently unsympathetic to men- in particular, men who have unauthorized opinions– and to easily sway a story in the favor of good Hollywood versus bad opinionated men, all they really need to say is “men’s rights activist.” Anything further is academic- the term immediately invalidates any argument presented.
The mainstream narrative will always deny that feminism has become institutionalized. If the narrative is that men are privileged, of course men who are looking to defend themselves as men in a system they see as bias against them would be viewed unsympathetically; as hateful, greedy, misogynist losers.
The system makes it clear that women are the oppressed class and men are the privileged class, always and forever. Women need our resources and support while men only need restraint and emasculation.
Make no mistake that this mindset is pervasive and trickles down to how our Education system is structured.
It was third period lunch- a bit early in the day, yes, but if that’s when you were given a lunch period, you were kind of fucked. So it’s 10:15am and I’m dipping french fries in mayonnaise, because that was “so European,” sitting with my friend Sally Rapehoax.
Sally was a boring and plain kind of girl, but in High School sometimes you’re stuck with the people you befriend in ninth grade. Fine, whatever, but my jaw dropped when Sally casually mentioned, “yeah, I’ve been raped before,” almost as if she’s telling me about her homework, or her favorite Nirvana song, or how profoundly connected she felt to “The Craft.” It all seemed the same to Sally, but my world slowed down just a bit…
The reality of emasculation and disposability was heavy for men at the tail-end of the last decade at all concerned with family values. The new role of father was to be something of a bumbling and dutiful employee of his family; open to their intense criticism at his slightest misstep.
Although The Simpsons first-season writers, nerdy Hollywood outsiders, were acutely aware of the changing value of Fatherhood, they happily accepted the modern definition of marriage as relying entirely on the fickle whims of female happiness. While Homer deserved more than his family had to offer in exchange for his struggle with modern Fatherhood, he rightfully was a slave and workhorse for his wife.