Alpha Move: Carry Her Books

Alpha Move: Tuck Her In

Alpha Move: Undress Her

How can a wife encourage her husband to be more Alpha without sabotaging her own efforts by inspiring doubt and insecurity, not confidence and authority?

When attempting to dissect masculinity and femininity and discover the scope of their roles in how we live our lives, it doesn't take long to recognize that while the two genders do use the same language, the way that they approach things and think about things is, in aggregate, very different.

(Well, duh.  Brilliant insight, Ian.)


Most folks stop there and leave the rest up to culture and society to determine.  But when you keep delving into just HOW the genders approach things differently, even more observations are possible.  For instance, while both men and women have a plethora of common values as human beings, each gender brings a different priority set of those values to the table often influenced by whether they sit or stand when they pee.

Case in point: Over at the venerable lefty HuffPo, a recent post by Jean Oelwang, CEO of Virgin Unite, the entrepreneurial foundation of the worldwide Virgin Group, illustrates this better than I could.  In an effort to find a silver lining in the crappy economy and heated gender wars, she bravely points out several ways that business is "better" in the 21st century, thanks to female values.  (In fairness, she squirms away from labelling them as such, attempting to find a gender-neutral description that encompasses these values, so she settles on Gaian Values.  After Gaia, the ancient Greek Mother Goddess.  A swing and a miss!)

She begins thusly:

"I believe that women haven't been assuming more leadership positions in the world today because the systems we've created often do not place the right value on the strengths that women can bring to the table."

This, of course, flies in the face of the fact that women have been assuming leadership positions at an ever-increasing rate.  Indeed, she takes apparent issue at the rate, and wants it to increase even more.    Why?  Because the "systems" we've created don't place the "right value" on women's strengths.


Only they aren't really "women's" strengths, because that wouldn't be politically correct, hence the Gaia imagery to encompass all.  Bowing before the female value of Consensus, she equivocates and refuses to attempt to instill a sense of Order on the subject by calling out feminine values as feminine.   But then she goes on to point them out exclusively where she sees women displaying them:

Here are three that tend to be prominent in many of the inspiring women I've had the good fortune to work with. 

 Let's break these down and examine them as Feminine Values, instead of Gaian Values.

People matter -- capitalism started out with this premise, freeing people to make a living and pursue their dreams, but as greed fogged people's views on what really matters, the increasing lack of equity has led to unacceptable human suffering.
Fortunately, our newly connected world has now put the power back into people's hands. Leaders who put people and equity first will break through the glass ceiling hand in hand with the people they are leading.

"People Matter" is the same thing as saying "Feelings matter".  In point of fact, capitalism started out with no more sophisticated premise than maximizing profits and creating wealth -- people were merely factors in the equation.  The goal wasn't to free people to make a living and pursue dreams, it was to sell a product or service at a profit.  Romanticizing capitalism (which was invented, developed, and perfected by males, according to Male Values) is no more than a clever rationalization.  People are resources to capitalism, and while they are valuable resources capitalism doesn't owe them anything but honest pay for honest work, and possibly health-insurance where mandated.

While industrial capitalism frequently sought to diminish the role of the worker's needs in an effort to simplify and streamline the process, industrial capitalism is nearly dead in our country.  The "power" in the people's hands stems from their ability to access and use the internet, not through any real evolution in business philosophy.  So while "people matter", these days "people matter" the most when their jobs can be eliminated.  And the leaders who put people first -- over profits, over policy, over efficiency -- are going to find themselves out of the job, because shareholders don't care about people.  They care about profits and retuns-on-investment.

"People Matter" means "business should be run for the benefit of the workers, and not the other stakeholders".  "People Matter", in Female Values, actually means "all people matter equally", that the product is of less value than the process.  That's not to say it isn't, strictly speaking, true -- just not in the way Ms. Oelwang presents.

The Male Value corollary of "People Matter" is "Some People Matter More Than Others", and that irks the female valued ideal of absolute consensus and fairness.  It's not egalitarian.  It's openly elitist.  And it's a Red Pill observable truth.  It is an evolved and well-trusted male value that the Right Man for the Right Job brings smoother production, higher efficiency, and a sense of competition that fuels innovation and improvement in both process and product.  Get the right designer in your firm and your kids go to Harvard.  Get the wrong one, and they're going to end up sending them to community college.

Consider: the key position in an advertising agency, Creative Director, is the one responsible for hiring artists, copywriters, printers, and dealing with the needs of the client.  Get a bad Creative Director and your clients fell like lemmings.  Get a good one and the phone doesn't stop ringing.  As impressive or non-impressive as the title Creative Director is, in most shops it is the key job.  It usually comes with more money, more responsibility, and more prestige.

Under "People Matter", the person who has the greatest need for those additional resources (pay, responsibility, prestige) should be given the job.  If Frank and Felicia are both up for it, competitively, then the president of the company is going to have to make a decision . . . and if he makes that decision based on Felicia's seniority and the fact that everyone in the office likes her and thinks she deserves it, then he may well be skipping the fact that Felicia hasn't had an original thought in two decades and still keeps a MySpace account active.  Frank might be a son-of-a-bitch to work for, and he might already have a bulging 401k and own his own home, but when the rubber meets the road his original ideas are what propel clients and move profits, not the "people matter" selection of Felicia for the job of Creative Director.

The difference in approach is telling.  It's one reason why women tend to perform better in process-oriented work, for example.  Human resource departments attract women because the "people matter" value is ingrained at a vocational level in them, whereas sales departments, the most competitive arena in business, tend to be predominantly male in most industries.

But most men understand the value of "people matter" much differently, and often in the negative.  One idiot on the team can, for example, doom the entire team if he/she doesn't know their shit.  "People Matter" is a Feminine Value . . . but to the Masculine Value system it's more of a warning.

Openness is the best policy -- as the world becomes more interconnected, this value will become more important. Honest dialogue will become the new power, the new success, the new sexy.

Uh, no.

"Openness is the best policy" can be most easily seen as a Female Value on the principal that women have a seemingly pathological instinct to expose that which is hidden for no better reason than it shouldn't be hidden . . . according to their judgement.

Men keep secrets.  That's something that drives women crazy, even if they do a fair amount of it themselves. Worse (to women), men keep secrets and then don't even have the good grace to feel horribly guilty about it . . . so guilty they just HAVE to tell someone to spare their soul the burden.

"Openness is the best policy" is a Female Value, but it comes with many, many strings.  For one, "openness is the best policy" does not in fact celebrate accountability, as it seems to on the surface.  "Accountability is the best policy" could be construed as a Masculine Value, but accountability and "openness" are two very different things.  Women value "openness", but they often fear true accountability.  Women love to "clear the air" in an office environment, for instance, because airing grievances makes them feel better.  But once a male colleague attempts to call a female teammate to account about actual work performance, perhaps asking for specific work products or a time log of hours worked, suddenly "openness" isn't quite so important as "consensus".

And as far as "honest dialog", the Female Value of Openness is highly selective about just how honest the dialog can become before it crosses a line.  TRUE honesty and accountability are not what is being promoted here.  It is the mere appearance of transparency, with the understanding that the ability to be honest in discussions ceases being a benefit when it ceases being a boon to women.

What Ms. Oelwang seems to be trying to denigrate is the male propensity for conserving information. Why do we do this, when "openness is the best policy"?

Because men compete, and secrets give us a competitive advantage.  "Openness" is an attempt to limit those carefully-cultivated advantages to the benefit of others, i.e. women who didn't cultivate secrets.  If Frank spends all weekend building a new ad campaign for his firm's new client in an effort to get the plum assignment, he isn't going to want to share that information with Felicia, because he and Felicia are competitors  even if they are working for the same company.  Competition is a strong Masculine Value, and it is the basis on which capitalism is predicated.  Therefore Openness, as Ms. Oelwang describes it, is antithetical to the male value of competitiveness.

Collaboration is queen -- the fight for the top rung of the ladder is becoming irrelevant in the face of the issues and opportunities we face as a global community.

Bullshit.

Look, I work in a creative field, and there is definitely a role for collaboration.  but beware this term.  It use to mean "equal contribution by both parties to the final product", but these days it usually means "can I get my name on that paper if I type it up for you?"

Collaboration is a rationalization for Consensus, a Female Value.  Individual efforts in a competitive marketplace promotes the individual and individual achievement.  "Collaboration" allows the consensus to take credit regardless of the efforts of the collaborating parties, and allows those parties plausible deniability to the point of escaping accountability.

The problem is that women see competition merely as a "fight for the top rung of the ladder", instead of the far more nuanced approach that men take.  Yes, ascending the hierarchy is a major goal, not because it grants you more power and resources (those are just gravy), but because it is proof of your competitive value.  Consensus and collaboration bleed achievement of its glory.  Being the author of a brilliant paper is outstanding . . . being one of seven authors of a brilliant paper is six-sevenths less outstanding.

The difference in approach is reflective of how men and women view such efforts in general.  Males value competition, because it allows them a means of distinguishing themselves among men which in turns attracts mating possibilities and social capital within the Male Social Matrix.  Females dislike being singled out for achievement, because within the Female Social Matrix women who achieve beyond the limits of consensus are singled out for attack by the rest of the crab-basket.  Women enjoy "collaboration" because it conceals the scope and quality of their individual work and allows them to hide within the collective collaboration.

Since when is position, prestige, money and power "irrelevant?"  That sounds like someone who has made it trying to convince her competitors that they can quit competing now because the game is over.  What Ms. Oelwang does not mention is that while "collaboration is queen" in the post-industrial economy, "competition is STILL King", and therefore more important.  Collaborate all you like . . . but your "collaborators" will not hesitate to use your collaboration as a weakness against you.  Cooperation is great, until the effort you spend in the cooperation becomes less than the value you receive from it.  Because at that point, you are essentially working for someone else, ala Tom Sawyer.

Remember when he got every boy in the neighborhood to collaborate on painting a fence?

Ms. Oelwang finishes with this inspiring call-to-action:

Those who join forces with others for far better outcomes will topple the ladders and build solid, equitable foundations for the emergence of a new way of living and doing business.
So women (and men) armed with these Gaia values are perfectly positioned to take on powerful leadership roles in this changing world order.

The future of successful business will incorporate these values and always do well by doing good. At Virgin Unite we've been calling this "Screwing Business as Usual." There has never been a better time and more critical need for women to embrace leadership roles and for all of us to embrace their Gaia.

This is where she essentially encourages everyone to abandon business practices that have been effective and efficient for centuries . . . because we'll feel better about things when we do.  While Ms. Oelwang is quick to point out that these "new" values are going to lead to a "new way of living and doing business", she fails to specify in any meaningful way why this should be the case . . . or whether or not it manages to achieve anything other than "feeling good".   And the last time I saw an organization who judged its success on whether or not everyone was feeling good was a kids' summer camp.

Major multinational corporations?  Not so much.

Ms. Oelwang and her compatriots can attempt to trumpet Female Values as superior in this new age and new economy, but they aren't making a compelling point for them.  At most she's putting it forward as "if you don't conform to this then the women in the workplace will throw rocks at you", hardly a compelling argument.

Its telling that the division of Virgin she leads is the . . . charitable division.  The place where Sir Richard Branson  makes himself feel better about his billions.  While philanthropic and charitable organizations are noble and important elements of the free market system, one can hardly call the same values and virtues that work with non-profits and export them to the "real" business world.   Female Values work great when the goal is to give money away.  When the goal is to MAKE money, however . . .

Just imagine a small company espousing these Female Values.  Say an advertising agency.

McWomann and Tate agency, a small competitor in a large market, wants to succeed.  Its female CEO wants to promote collaboration, openness, and "People matter" as proud mission statements.  That sounds great on paper, but . . .

. . . when artists and copywriters and other creative people on the payroll are told that their individual contributions to the project they're on will not be celebrated or rewarded, merely the team's collaborative effort, then the opportunity to distinguish oneself is gone.  The opportunity for individual merit and reward is gone.  The impetus for bringing your "A" game . . . gone.  In the end, Frank stops even going to the endless collaborative meetings and waits for the team "collaboration" to come up with a concept (even though he's got a good one . . . but he won't bring it because he knows in advance that the collaboration will get credit, not the individual).

. . . when Felicia starts to suspect that Frank isn't being fully forthcoming with the creative brilliance, due to the dilution of collaboration, she starts demanding to see his notes and sketches in the name of the female value of Openness.  She accuses Frank of holding out his best work.  Frank is understandably reluctant -- he  already brought sufficient work to the collaborative effort, more than others, perhaps.  He wants to keep his best stuff under wraps until it's well-developed and can be used to greatest effect . . . for his advancement.  Mindless devotion to consensus and collaboration, he knows, doesn't get you rewarded in business.  It doesn't get you promoted.  It doesn't get you noticed.  Being open about his work and his perspective would be working counter to Frank's goal of success.

. . . when Frank decides he wants a couple of supplementary sketches done up real quick, he goes over and asks Fred if he can knock 'em out real quick . . . in the spirit of "collaboration".  But Felicia gets wind of it and doesn't approve -- not when there's a bright young (female) intern, Francine, who is just itching for a chance at the big time and a chance to show up boring old Fred.  Felicia intervenes and hands off the work to Francine without telling Frank, because "people matter", and clearly Fred is trying to deprive Francine of opportunity, which hurts her feelings.  The fact that Francine can't work at Fred's level is immaterial; the fact that Fred's experience demonstrates he knows what the hell he's doing isn't valid.  The fact that Frank knows Fred knows EXACTLY what he wants, and will produce it in a timely manner, is unimportant compared to the feminine value that says Francine's position matters...even if she's been there for less than six months.

When you see feminine values such as openness, collaboration, and "people matter" being promoted at the expense of traditional, proven business values like competition and ambition (which just happen to be a lot like Male Values, for some reason), then beware.  Reconsider doing business with that firm.  Not because they're being run for women based on female values, but because they probably aren't going to be around very long.

Would you work for McWomann and Tate, knowing that you will never get a chance to shine?  As a dude, are you willing to submit yourself to the female value of the Crab Basket, with no one individual EVER rising above the others in any meaningful way without being snapped back?  Consider carefully.

The whole "the future of business is doing Good!" (with "good" being defined exclusively by female values) is highly misleading . . . and any young man who tries to seriously incorporate them into his career strategy in any real way does so at his peril, unless he's in a barbershop quartet.


Because that's the place where men find the most value in collaboration, openness, and people mattering.  




PS: If you haven't seen it yet, check out this month's Prefeminist Artist of the Month page on Coby Whitmore!

MORE Beta!

1. Something they want but you don’t know what it is because she’s not going to tell you. (hint: you can’t buy her anything you’d like to see her in, you’d think she’d like, etc.  It has to be something she picks out and you just pay for, because that’s what good feminist Beta husbands do).
2. Forget about sex and ask for a honeydew list.
3. Clean the house . . . like a chick.  Because the way you USUALLY do it (which is just fine for you) sucks, and is proof that you secretly despise her.  It isn’t clean until she says it’s “chick clean”.
4. Do the laundry.  Because a box of Tide is a hell of a lot more meaningful than another stupid, expensive Pandora charm no one knows what the hell it means anyway.
5. Make dinner or “make reservations”.  As if you didn't have enough reservations at this point . . . 
6. Do all of her housework for her. 
7. Don’t have sex with her unless she specifically requests it in writing.
8. If sex is what she wants, don't really bring the penis into it.  Toss her a vibrator and then go to sleep.

1. Beta
2. Beta
3. Beta
4. Beta
5. Beta
6. Beta
7. Beta
8. and more Beta

I rarely make short (!) cryptic posts that relate to my personal life if they aren't related to the Room.  To those very few of you who know what is going on with me, this overly nerdy and hyperbolic YouTube clip is about the only hint I can give of how things are going.


It pains a writer not to be able to write about something that's affecting you.  It's therapy, if nothing else.  It's also a luxury, when your family needs you.  Hell, I might never be able to write about this, and if that's the price I have to pay, so be it.  A crappy YouTube Doctor Who trailer will have to suffice for now.

Even though y'all have no idea what's going on, wish me luck.  I can use every bit that comes my way.

Despite what some well-meaning-but-myopic feminist sex researchers might think, there are indeed more types of sex in marriage than just “bad” and “feminist-empowering”.   While the endless gentle foreplay leading to non-penetrative orgasms and non-patriarchal progressive power structures sound like a mystical forest of erotic delight, the cold hard fact is that married people – that is, people who are committed to their marriages, and aren’t just playing house until something better comes along – have all sorts of sex that have nothing to do with ensuring the proper consent paperwork is filled out before initiating foreplay.  

 Especially once you have children, the type and manner of sex a married couple has gets exotic and frustrating at the same time, as one navigates around the rocky shoals of nap time, exhaustion, and spousal resentment.  But even within childless couples there is more than one kind of sex.  That has been one of my consistent problems with the sex researchers, feminist and non-feminist alike, when it comes to their discussions of sex and “the right way to do it”.  Focusing on sex-for-pleasure or sex-for-intimacy, both with a strong emotional component, covers but a tithe of the varieties of married sex.  Most of the time when husband and wife manage to knock boots, personal fulfillment and mutual orgasm aren’t even vaguely fuzzy goals.  

Sex researchers who ignore the social component of modern sexuality, or downplay its importance (or even dismiss non-feminist-empowering sex as a “necessary evil”) miss the sophisticated and complex role that sex plays for a couple in a long-term relationship.  When you take the “sex act”, from flirtation and initiation to consummation and afterplay, outside of the context of the relationship and attempt to impose standards by which to judge the quality of the experience, most marital sex comes up depressingly short on paper.  

But if you consider sex within the context of the relationship, it can bee seen as a powerful normalizing factor in a functioning relationship, and that is due primarily to its versatility and variability as a means of providing balance to a marriage.

One of the more important, but rarely mentioned, elements of married sex is Grief Sex.

This isn’t necessarily tied to a death, although that’s when it’s seen most often.  Next to weddings, funerals seem to have an aphrodisiac effect on people, prompting all sorts of outrageous behavior as folks try to work through their grief with the most basic and life-affirming of all human acts.  People hook up after funerals – it’s a pretty common occurrence.  I've been known to do it myself.

But people grieve for other things than death.  All of us, particularly if we have children, are faced with a myriad of potential calamities that can kick the legs out of our “normal” lives.  When you’re an adult and your parents tell you they’re getting divorced, for instance, or even a couple that you are close to gets un-hitched, you and your spouse may grieve their relationship and the role that it had on your own . . . even if the two parties involved both remain in your life.  

When a cherished pet dies, or a vocational path dries up, when the dream house you got when you got married gets foreclosed on, when something awful and life-changing happens to someone you love, all of these can lead to a feeling of grief that can sap the vital spark from your sex life.  A miscarriage or other tragedy can certainly cast a long shadow into your bedroom.  Triggered memories of abuse can kill sex dead in a marriage.  So can illness, mental or physical.  Morbid obesity.  Depression.  Affairs, of course, are their own special kind of grief, and so I won’t speak to that here. 

But it’s almost inevitable that during the course of your marriage something will happen in your life that hangs like a cloud over your marital bed.  At some point, your “normal” will be taken from you, leaving you speechless, shocked, embittered, and grief-stricken.  Since men and women respond to grief and profound emotional insecurity in different ways, in general, this can lead to some treacherous intimate waters.

And when that happens, the shiny-happy-people-sex of the sex researcher’s ideal is so utterly off the table in a marriage as to be laughable.  How do you stay “fully present, attuned, and connected with your partner RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE” when the very subject of sex sends one or both of you into an emotional spiral?    When grief fills the air like a fog you move through in desperate search for your lost “normal”, trying to manage “traveling through someone else’s mind and body, while we allow them to travel through ours” when your emotions are volatile, frustrated, angry and bitter is just not an option.

So the right thing to do in a time of grief is to take sex off the table, right?  Something that everyone just knows is supposed to be “joyful” is the last thing you want to consider when your heart is breaking.  Sex is not a drive, it’s not a need, it’s merely a reward incentive system.  If there is an overabundance of grief haunting the couple, then just . . . postpone sex for better times.  Until you are both feeling "into it" enough to resume your normal sexual relationship.  It’s the prudent thing to do, right?

Wrong.

From what they tell us, “we can only have it when all the layers of us and all the ways of knowing we have are aligned, attuned, and paying attention right now to how we feel, how our partners feel, who we are together.”  And the fact is, when we are in the midst of grief our hearts and emotions can be closed, even walled up, as a means of personal survival . . . yet the need for sex and intimacy  for both people is nearly as overwhelming.

Part of the issue is how men and women view sex and grief differently, of course.  Women in the midst of grief often seek the intimacy that they find in sex in an effort to collect and build emotional sympathy for personal support.  But when it comes to the necessary precursor of that intimacy with their husbands – sex – sometimes these women aren’t just 'not interested', they can even get offended that their husband would have “that” on his mind when she is quite-clearly grieving.  

Meanwhile, the husband is merely seeking his own level of intimacy and comfort.  Male response to grief and other such strong emotions is to harden their hearts in preparation for doing something unpleasant - even when their need for emotional connection and emotional expression is just as great as that of his wife.  One would think that when both parties are seeking essentially the same thing -- comfort and intimacy -- then it would be easy to come to some resolution for this issue.  The problem is that the husband usually has a far more difficult time accessing even himself emotionally without sex to establish intimacy first. 

Or, of course, in your marriage it could quite easily work the other way around.  Grief is weird that way.


That doesn’t mean you should force yourself to have sex, exactly.  But a prolonged period of grief and sexual inactivity can be hard for a couple to recover from if they have ceased all relations . . . or even any reference to sex.  Some couples, in grief, can go months without even mentioning sex or the possibility, even if they are both desperate for it.  They have been trained to view sex as only a celebration of their love and mutual pleasure.  They have been lectured about respect and consent and emotional connection their entire lives, so when presented with a situation in which having sex would be a practical benefit to all involved, they shun it, to their mutual detriment because of their perspective on sex is so myopic.  

In a recent round of grief at Stately Ironwood Manor (no, no one died) the situation was such that even ever-horny Ian was uninterested.  Yeah.  It was that bad.  A high-stress situation, and one that made “joyfully moving toward” Mrs. Ironwood . . . difficult, for emotional reasons.  It wasn’t that we didn’t both recognize the need – we were past-due, time-wise, and overdue from the High Quality Nookie perspective.  My stress level was reaching historic proportions, to the point where medical intervention was necessary.  Mrs. Ironwood was enduring as much grief, fatigue, and emotional investment as I’ve seen without a birth or a funeral being involved.  While other events overwhelmed us, both of us understood the pragmatic advantages to tearing one off . . . as well as the desperately-needed emotional intimacy we both craved.


But there just wasn’t time nor inclination.  We had more important shit to do, and for us that’s saying a lot.  Mrs. Ironwood and I consider sex the fulcrum of the see-saw of our marriage, a way to keep things in balance and fully functioning.  For us, sex is the Great Equalizer, allowing emotional and psychological stability to prevail over our personal desires to behave unreasonably.  It's an extension of our normal on-going marital conversation and provides important subtext for it, in context.

The fulcrum sex provides in our relationship has certainly allowed us to leverage each other into a fair amount of joy – but that’s easy.  Any  couple of idiots can associate sex with joyousness, unity, and happiness.  That's a serotonin binge that's implicit in every infatuated coupling.  The see-saw ride is smooth and easy and fun.  If one of us is down, sex is an important way for the other person to bring them up.

But there comes a time when Something Happens and we’re both left with our legs dangling in the air at the same time.

Grief sex isn’t fun.  It isn’t joyous. Sometimes it’s good sex, technically speaking, and other times it’s bloody awful.  Sometimes it’s a way for you to share the burden of responsibilities by clinging to the strength of your union . . . but sometimes it’s a needfully selfish act, or laden with emotions far from joy and happiness.  Grief sex can be an opportunity to wallow in the emotional wellspring of your spouse’s feelings, gaining new perspective and emotional intimacy through the physical act.  Or it can be a desperate attempt to re-establish a lost normalcy after crisis or catastrophe, when even the hope of joy seems hollow.  Either way, the solace of a sexual embrace offers comfort and refuge even if the connection with your partner is lacking because of the nature of the situation.

It’s not something you can jump right into – usually you have to drop what Mrs. Ironwood sometimes calls “breadcrumbs”: conversational and physical suggestions of intimacy and sex without immediate fulfillment. While that sounds needlessly frustrating to a spouse with a high drive or high desire for sex, the act of dropping breadcrumbs for each other does some very important things to alleviate that sense of frustration.

Firstly, it communicates that yes, sex is on your mind in some form or fashion, even if the nature of the situation or crisis makes the notion socially appalling.  It's a recognition of the loss of normalcy, and the importance of losing that fulcrum on the health and welfare of the union.  Mrs. I’s first breadcrumb, three days after feces hit fan, was along the lines of:

“If I hadn't just stayed awake for almost three days straight, I’d almost consider talking you into sex.”  

It wasn’t a rejection – she brought it up before I even thought about initiating – but it was a polite way of saying “I’m intellectually and maybe even physically interested, but I’m also so emotionally and physically exhausted that sleep wins out over your mightiest efforts – but it’s on my radar.” That meant a huge amount to me, because yes, despite the stress and adrenaline and rage and such, a good scrumping would have revitalized me in the way only a good scrumping can.  

But I also knew that approaching the subject, under the circumstances, would be “delicate” at best.

So Mrs. I took the pressure off by basically saying subtextually “Yeah, I’m horny too, but not now . . . but real soon now.”  That’s different from the more-typical female response, “how can you think about sex at a time like this?!”   Needless to say, it's far more preferred to the masculine ear, too.  Rejection is one thing.  Rejection and a follow-up questioning your emotional depth is just insulting.

She followed up the next day with some sexually-suggestive kissing in a rare private moment that was filled with a confusing mix of desperate need and deep appreciation . . . but ended the session with “that’s all we’re going to be able to manage for a few days . . . God, I need some intimacy about now!”

I nodded.  I needed it too.  Good and hard.

I dropped a breadcrumb of my own that night, when I was tucking her in– a bit of routine normalcy that made her squeal with delight.  “I missed you doing that for me when I was on the road,” she said with a wistful smile.



“Gosh, y’know, there were a few things you do that I missed while you were on the road, too!” I answered.  She smiled and nodded.  I didn't push it.  It wasn't time yet.  I was just dropping a breadcrumb.  We went to sleep.  Message received.
The next breadcrumb was when things were – finally– settling down from acute emergent crisis to merely profoundly serious crisis requiring most of our energy and attention.  After a particularly emotionally draining day in which several important decisions had to be made, we were both feeling  shell-shocked and emotionally exhausted.  In crisis mode, we usually relocated our base of operations to our covered and screened back porch, where I’m free to chain-smoke without giving the kids cancer and we’re both free to speak candidly about the freaky shit going on without them overhearing.




I’d snagged a double Irish on the rocks, because the Irish invented whisky to fortify you for just this kind of grief-tinged situation (ever been to an authentic Irish wake, with the dead guy on the dinner table and gallons – GALLONS – of liquor?  No one grieves like the Irish).  Mrs. I had elected to pop her prescription anti-anxiety meds instead.  It was the first real “calm” moment we’d had in days, and the quiet exhaustion led to a peaceful silence that was tantalizingly close to our lost sense of normalcy.  It was the first time either one of us had seriously considered sex.  The kids were in bed.  It was dark.  We were awake.  Motive, method, opportunity.

I looked over at her, the barest hint of a suggestion in my eyes.  Thanks to marital telepathy and her own unique insight into the masculine soul, she didn’t even blink.  

“I get eight hours of sleep, minimum.  Then a shower.  Then you are going to take me to Pound Town like you just got back from sea.”

“It would be rude to argue with such compelling reasoning,” I agreed.  “I’m almost at the point where some titties in my face would prove a welcome distraction.”

“I can make that happen . . . tomorrow.”

“It’s a date,” I agreed.  And it was.  The last breadcrumb was in place.

It wasn’t great sex.  It wasn’t even good sex, from a technical standpoint.  It was almost like (but not nearly as dreadful as) the first sex postpartum, when you know you should want to but you’re so wrapped-up in being gentle and tender or desperate and needy that “good” sex can be defined as any kind of sex at all. 

It wasn’t great sex.  But it was seething, passionate, emotionally explosive and physically challenging.  It was an opportunity for her to feel owned and protected, and an opportunity for me to feel like I was in control– of something – for the first time in days.   Grief sex is like an emotional dam bursting. The frustration and the anger and the helplessness turned into a frenetic need to drive away thought and replace it with the splint of soul-cleansing sexual pleasure so that – for at least a few cherished moments – we could pretend that the Normal had returned.  

And in some ways it had.  When you’re on the Red Pill and married, getting laid regularly and frequently becomes a part of your life.  When anything from travel to birth control to grief can stand in the way of that, then the very absence of sex in your relationship (in addition to other factors) becomes a problem, perhaps as much as the original problem, and certainly compounding it.  

So by having sex – even a mediocre, emotionally-overblown and largely un-fulfilling quickie in your hour of desperation – you can help re-establish the normalcy of your life.  For dudes, especially, the metric of sex is important to define the scope of a relationship.  By trying to return to the sexual rhythms of your marriage, even if the sex sucks the attempt will be important in and of itself.

For women, the emotional connection implicit in sex builds the intimacy she needs to feel safe.  Due to long cultural association, if not biological holy writ, women in insecure situations often seek to find security through connection and community, and intimate connection with a partner.  If she is aware enough of her own psychological needs, then the frustration she may feel at her partner's masculine emotional detachment in times of crisis can be seen as what it is: a cry for intimacy and connection, but not necessarily sexual intimacy and connection.  

Conversely, men need the physical release of sex  not just to re-connect with their deeper emotions, but also to validate their actions in crisis.  If sex is a "incentive reward program", then a crisis requiring a robust response from a man (such as defending his family or making a herculean effort to save the house) is going to encourage his body to seek just such a physical validation . . . while his bruised psyche cries out for the soothing and healing of caritas.   When men push for sex in a time of grief, it's a request for validation and approval, as well as a path to allow him to feel what he had to put aside in crisis.

Understanding this dynamic properly, and appreciating the suggestive and gradual power of "breadcrumbs", can allow a couple to cut past the bullshit and both get what they need . . . if not always when they need it.  Avoiding the topic entirely is not recommended, unless the issue involves sexual abuse or rape and you are under the guidance of a mental health professional.  

Sex can, indeed, be about joy, and a married couple who has made it past the decade hump usually has it in bucketfuls.  But in grief, even fondly-remembered joy can turn bitter in your mouth like ashes.  Remembering that things were once better often just makes you sadder.  Trying to imagine things being better seems a betrayal of your loss, as if hoping for better times and lighter feelings diminishes the value of your grief.  

Sex in grief isn’t about joy, it’s about sadness– and tenderness, and need, and pain.  It’s about the selfish desire for comfort and understanding when we do not necessarily deserve it or invite it.  It’s about the fundamental agreement not to just be a rock for your mate when the storm clouds come, but to indulge their sometimes jagged response to grief with understanding and support. Sex in grief can be the frictiony abrasive needed to trim away the illusions and impractical perspectives, to gel both our emotions and resolve during a time of turmoil.  Sex is our desperate, individual cry for the Normal to return, as if we could wipe away the tragedy one orgasmic stroke at a time.


The fun and exciting sex is the sex you remember most.  Those happy times of joy in the past, where the physical met the emotional and even the spiritual in a vortex of infatuation and the seeds of nascent love.  The times where you did something particularly well, or made a particularly good impression, those are highly memorable.  Hotel sex weekends, heated quickies at a friend’s party, that one night after those two bottles of wine – those are the highly-positive experiences we want to associate with sex.  

But the reality is that the interplay of eroticism and emotion really is in flux in a marriage.  Consider it an Advanced Sexual Skill, and one your marriage will not survive without you becoming proficient in.  That's one of the biggest myths about sex-in-marriage: depending on the infatuation-laden blush of a fun-filled single life to sustain you through all of the Bad Times to come without a more sophisticated approach is to invite suffering and misery into your marriage.  Married sex isn’t like single sex much at all.  It’s more complex, more sophisticated, more complicated.   Sometimes your wife isn’t even thinking about sex at all when you recognize a good scrumping would improve both her mood and her effectiveness tremendously.    

Sometimes sex is the last thing on your mind.  She proposes it out of the blue for reasons you clearly don’t understand and you have to make a conscious decision whether or not to have sex – all the while wondering how she will react if you decline.  Does she need affirmation?  Normalcy?  Comfort?  Connection?  Intimacy?  Assurance?  To feel safe and protected?  Even if that doesn’t mesh with your level of arousal at that point, rejecting her out-of-hand could be devastating, for her and for your relationship.  But if you really just can’t, for whatever reason . . . drop a breadcrumb.  

Let your spouse know that it’s on your mind, you understand it’s on theirs, and that it is on your agenda . . . but your mind/body/spirit combo is just too weak to indulge it at the moment.  Always remember to thank them for asking and assure them that it’s the situation, not your feelings for or attraction to them, that is behind your reluctance.  If you’re smart, you’ll bring it up before they do . . . and then just leave it alone. Grief takes time to process, and “soon” might well mean two weeks, not two days.  You might need to follow a dozen breadcrumbs, not three.  Harping, nagging, and complaining are all annoyances that can compound grief and exacerbate an already-stressful situation. Don't do that shit.  If you make a suggestion and she passes, understand that it isn't time yet.

So drop a breadcrumb . . . and then back the fuck off. Your spouse will know how to follow them, and until you can both manage the mental and emotional transition from “crisis mode” to “clitoris mode” these hints/promises/wishes are the best way to ensure that you both face the problem together, not blame the other for keeping their feet dangling.  

 Dominant . . . and Dynamic

Walk the Walk

Get With The Group . . . The Right Way

Your Face Is The Place

 Just like in regular Game, in Office Game eye-contact is key.  If your boss is speaking, listen thoughtfully, especially if other people are watching.  When it’s time for questions, ask one that you know that your boss knows the answer to, and hold eye contact while you do it . . . and then look away.  If you lock eyes with a female competitor, DO NOT DROP YOUR GAZE.  Most women are more intimidated by being stared-down than they’re willing to admit, and when it happens unexpectedly it can be unnerving.  If she persists, slowly shift your gaze about one inch below her eyes . . . it makes you look more intimidating for no reason she can consciously see.

When Going Beta Is Alpha

“I don’t feel appreciated.”

You Are Just Going Through A Stage.

“Relax.  He really does appreciate you.  Far more than you realize.  If you don’t feelthat, then you have to consider that part of the problem is with your expectations, and not with his performance.  Your attitudes and perspectives will change as you mature, and a better understanding of yourself and your husband will – ultimately – allow you the space you need to feel the appreciation you crave, and that has been there all along.  This is perfectly natural, perfectly normal.  This will pass.
 “You're just going through a stage.”

When we think about the Female Social Matrix, we might think of it as a three-dimensional grid -- and that would be a poor metaphor.  The FSM is not a rigid or hierarchical structure -- far from it.  It's organic and fluid and often-times ephemeral and inconstant.  It's also freakin' IMPOSSIBLE for most men to figure out.  Who are the women in your woman's life, and how do they relate to her?

Your first instinct is to draw a line extending to your wife's mother, sister, best-friend, the ones you know and are sure about . . . but after that, things get murky.  What about her friend from high school, whom she only sees twice a year but has an active Facebook relationship with?  Or hell, how about any of the people on Facebook?

Social networking sites have actually helped men parse-out some of the complexities of networking -- not one of our native skills.  Google +'s circles and Facebook's endless methods of forcing more and more detailed information out of you about your relationships has let many men finally understand how social dynamics and social relationships can play a vital role in how things work.

But again . . . after that, things get murky.

Mrs. Ironwood and I have had occasion to discuss this topic at length, recently.  While we're both highly intuitive about the opposite sex, there are plenty of areas where we both need enlightenment.  During our recent troubles, I wondered what criteria she used to decide who got told and who didn't.  It was a fascinating display of social mastery in action.

The result of our discussion was helpful.  Gentlemen, pray attend.  When you "map" out your wife's place in the FSM, you shouldn't think grid . . . you should think concentric circles or nested spheres.


Put your wife in the center of the circle. (That's where she sees herself, anyway).


Around her in the closest circle, her most intimate friends are her Grooming Circle.  That is, the women with whom your wife feels comfortable discussing all sorts of things that you would probably just rather not know about.  The women in the Grooming Circle are the ones who get to tell her when she looks like shit, when she needs to lose weight, when she needs to pluck her nose hairs, when she needs to try a new conditioner, when she needs to pluck her eyebrows and ohmygod are you going to go out wearing that?

There is a level of familiarity and intimacy within the Grooming Circle that some men find startling.  For many women, sisters, daughters, cousins, aunts, and mother are included in this circle . . . but not all women feel that comfortable with the women in their families.  There's usually at least one best friend who lives close by, and probably someone at work or in the same building or neighborhood.  And there may in fact be women in your wife's Grooming Circle that she doesn't particularly like . . . but whose opinions and advise they value.


For our purposes, your wife's Grooming Circle are those people close enough to her to challenge her and share with her the most personal, intimate, and occasionally gross details of her life. There will usually only be a few, no more than half-a-dozen, but they are her closest friends and advisers on everything from men to shoes to retirement plans.  They help her bury bodies.  They bail her out of jail.  There are traveling pants and yah-yahing involved, and funky dances when they clean the kitchen after dinner and margaritas.  The Grooming Circle are the girls you invite to your slumber party after you break up with your boyfriend, the ones who become bridesmaids and godmothers, the ones who can tell you when yes, those pants really do make your ass look fat and your'e lucky your husband loves you anyway.

 Just beyond the Grooming Circle is the Grief Circle.  These are the women with whom your wife shares her deepest sorrows.  These are the people to whom your wife can bare her soul and expose her emotions, the people she would call first for her husband's funeral or the loss of a career.  This circle is often marked by tragedy, but it isn't defined by it.  Usually (but not always) the Grief Circle is inclusive of the Grooming Circle, but there are notable exceptions to this.  Family is usually the majority of the Grief Circle, but close friends and long-time neighbors can be included.

Beyond the Grief Circle is her Gratitude Circle. These are the people your wife would call with good news, such as a pregnancy or a graduation, but not people she chooses to share her more intimate emotions with.  These are the people she wants to appear happy and successful to, without revealing her troubles.  This is where the line between her inner and outer society begins to form, where her real social masks in the Matrix begin.  People in her Gratitude Circle are "friends", but they aren't friends.  They often include professional colleagues and clients, neighbors, family friends, distant relatives, favorite teachers, and other folks "in the tribe" but not "in the family".

Beyond the Gratitude Circle is your wife's Greeting Circle.  These are the "friendly acquaintances", other neutral nodes on the network that do not automatically promise to threaten or benefit your wife's social position.  That doesn't mean that they can't be cultivated, and brought relatively closer to her at need, but they rarely know much about your wife that they can't learn on LinkdIn and Facebook . . . if they care to.  These are people whom your wife knows by reputation and sight, the other women in the PTA and the Scout Troop she hasn't gotten to know personally.

That's not to say that they won't pass judgement on your wife, and vice versa, just because they don't really know her.  Reputation is half of the gossip game, and any excuse to trash someone you don't really know is a great one.

Beyond the Greeting Circle is the Grapevine.  These are the hundreds of women your wife may know on sight, may know by name, may have waited on once in college, used to babysit for her sister, the woman who does her nails, the secretary at her gynecologist's office, her second-year college roommate who works at a daycare center on the other side of town, her ex-boyfriend's mother, etc.  They are not closely acquainted, they are barely even casually acquainted, but they are all willing participants in each-other's Grapevine.  This is where the unfiltered news comes from, the more outlandish and scandalous the better.  It's possible to get "news" from the agency of the Grapevine when the usual avenues of the inner-circles are, for whatever reason, unproductive.

The Grapevine is constituted from the Common Woman motif: that all women everywhere share similar goals, ideals, aspirations, and passions, and using the Grapevine to avoid either operating without information or to escape accountability is justified to improve one's personal position in one's personal matrix: the Just Us Girls vibe.  The Grapevine is where the nebulous idea of universal sisterhood comes in . . . because the little bit of dirt you know about Sarah showing up to the party with a strange dude is HUGE news to, say, that strange dude's girlfriend. The Grapevine has been used successfully against men in almost all societies.  Indeed, that is its stated purpose: to provide intelligence and dispositional reports from the field to those women engaged in courtship with a man.

Lastly, there is the Gratification Circle: the tangled network of tabloids, women's magazines, blogs, forums, soap operas, chick flicks, daytime talk shows, and celebrity gossip venues that constantly serve to inform a woman of her proper place in relation to everyone else.  The Gratification circle is what informs the Matrix, tells them what hair looks best, what heels look best, which causes are the most deserving, which men are the most alluring, and what that fucking ignorant SLUT on TV did right in front of the TMZ cameras -- and she has a baby!?!


The Gratification Circle provides the all-important social context within which your wife - and every other woman - lives her life.  It determines whether she's a slut, a whore, a virtuous mother, a wicked wife, a tramp, a provider, a bimbo, a diva, too emo for words, a basket case, a big hot mess, or a stunning paragon of feminine virtue just waiting to be eviscerated by her sisters.

The Gratification Circle is where you go to talk shit about people you don't know and have never laid eyes on, to compare notes with other women over your common pursuit of social gratification via celebrity and scandal, and to arrive at a local general consensus about what a slut any particular Kardashian sister is.  It's where women retreat to feel better about themselves and their lives.  It's where they find fault with the "best" amongst them -- or at least the most popular.  The Gratification Circle is the whole of the the collective feminine subconscious, always ready to render judgement and go after the highest crab in the basket.

And that's the anatomy of your wife's Female Social Matrix.  Awareness and understanding of this matter can lead to HUGE improvements in your Game, and a far better understanding of why she says some of the crazy shit she does from time to time.  It's not something to fight against -- we can't, and shouldn't -- but it is something that we should be aware is constantly controlling their attitudes and compelling their actions, and what the implications are for us as men.

1. YOUR HUSBAND

“Because I am afraid.  And he gives me Courage.”

If you are a Beta dad and you're reading this, spend the next month reading The Hobbit out loud to your boys every night until you finish.  Watch the expressions on their faces.  Share in their delight and fear and surprise and adventure.  Look into their eyes, see the eager boys they are and the strong men they can become, and realize - if you haven't yet - that the only person in the world who has the responsibility for them becoming men is not your wife, your ex-wife, their teachers, their neighbors, the government, society, or any particular village . . . it's you.  Only you.  

And if that scares you . . . good.  It's a scary thing.  It should be.  Look at your sleeping son's face some night and try to imagine the unforeseen challenges he will be forced to face in his life, and understand that you alone can prepare him for them. 

But take heart, if you don't feel up to the task ahead.  If you're afraid you'll screw up, you have all the courage you need, right there in front of you.  You'll discover reserves of strength and patience that you didn't know you had while you do it.  In the process of helping your son become a man, you yourself will become a much better man.  

If that's not a good enough reason to break your Beta and go forth into the world like a conquering hero, then there isn't one.

When I was a lad in the late 1980s, when we had to start the Internet by hand with a crank every morning, the buzz around the dorms wasn't about a girl's "number", it was about her "V-card".  Her virginity.



Losing your V-card is a big deal for any young person, of course, but it means dramatically different things to young men than it does to young women.  A young woman often jealously guards it, while a young dude will be happy to give it to the first vagina who walks by -- hey, 5 times the legal limit of testosterone makes you slightly less discriminating -- who knew?  Dudes find it important, but not the same way.  We want to ditch that V-Card ASAP, preferably to someone hot, slutty, intense, knowledgeable, and from someplace far away where she can't disagree with how great it was.

For a dude, losing your V-Card is like signing your Selective Service card:  It's something you need to do, and once it's done you can move on with your life a little wiser, a little closer to being a man.

While I'm not as heavy on virginity as a prerequisite for love or marriage as the Christian end of the Manosphere, or even Athol's reasonable "Try to marry a virgin or as close to virgin as possible" advice, I'm not going to deny that a girl's V-Card is a highly emotionally significant issue to her.  How and why she loses it/gives it away/sells it to the highest bidder becomes an important part of who she is. Indeed, until she gets engaged (maybe someday), has a baby (but not a husband) or completes her PhD. in Women's Studies, it's the first and last Big Thing that happens to her as an adult woman.

Of course, once gone, many women see the lack of virginity as carte blanche to enjoy the fruits of the Sexual Revolution with abandon.  I bring this up not to influence anyone in particular to do anything in particular with their hymen, either literal or spiritual.  No, I bring this up because while I believe we all understand the concept of the "V-Card", few men understand the concept of their "C-Card".

C.  For Commitment.

Before you recoil in horror at the mention of The Word That Shall Not Be Named, it's important you understand a few things about it, and about how you deal that card.  For you, it's as important as a sixteen year old girl's hymen.

Firstly, just like you wanted to ditch your V-Card ASAP to the "right girl", most women want to collect a C-Card with the "right guy" . . . but really, any ol' guy will do, at first.  Turning down a proposal of marriage is a sign of strength and notability within the Female Social Matrix, like getting hit-on by a pornstar would be for a dude (believe me, nothing gets your ego pumping like politely rejecting a pretty pornstar who has propositioned you.  It's happened a few times, and - you Gentlemen will be pleased to know - in all but one occasion, the ladies in question congratulated me on the level of respect and esteem I showed for my wife. (They did also usually show me their boobs anyway, to be fair, but it's not like I haven't seen them professionally already).)

Those who have the wit to hear and learn the Red Pill truth, attend:

Women control sex.  They have all the pussy and half the money. Unless you want to go Lambda (and that has some advantages), you have to deal with women to have sex with another person.  Women have known that for millennia  which is why the FSM's control of sexuality is so vital to their integrity.  Just one unattached Sexually Liberated Uninhibited Tart in the village and their ability to control their husbands through sex is compromised.  One whore in town, and the nookie supply is in flux.  The classic Greek play Lysistrata demonstrates the power that women united in their control of sexuality can ostensibly wield over men.  The women want to stop a stupid war and go on a sex strike.  Hilarity ensues.

BUT . . . what women do not often understand, explicitly, is that just as they control sex, MEN control
commitment.  Women can choose whether or not to offer us sex, and just what kind and how much.  They can NOT choose to offer us a commitment we have to take seriously.  Don't believe me?  Then why in a world where feminism has run-amuck are even hardcore feminists reluctant to break the social taboo of women proposing?

Because they know what would happen if they did.  Even a rational, level-headed egalitarian feminist in a relationship understands that while men and women might be "equal", the social shame and humiliation she would face by having to ask herself - and then the ignomy if her proposal was rejected (what are the odds?) - is such that a female-led proposal of commitment is as undesirable as a dude who's first line after introducing himself is "Hey, wannafuck?"

Among non-feminist or feminist-light women?  Forgetaboutit.  If a woman has to propose to a man, then there is something wrong with one or both of them.  No, women have to just sit there and wait for you to escalate the relationship.  They might try to encourage you with a number of incremental "mission creeps", but they can't actually make you their boyfriend/fiancee/husband without your permission.  I looked it up.

Most of women realize (and the FSM instructs) that men get skittish if you come on too strong and even mention commitment too soon in a courtship.  It's as tricky as just when to agree to sex.  A chick who slips an "after we get married" comment in on a third date is  as doomed as a dude who asks about anal on the first.  There's a time and place for everything folks, and while you might get lucky and get precisely the answer you're looking for ("Married?  How's next Thursday sound?", "Anal?  I thought you'd never ask!"), more than likely you're just crashing and burning.



Its common knowledge that women are naturally reluctant to be free with sex and men are reluctant to agree to a commitment.  It's implicit to the concept of Body Agenda.  But despite ample exceptions to both rules,  both parties measure the suitability of the other in part on how they express those desires. I'm not breaking new ground here.  The difference is that women usually do understand (via the FSM's two-tiered, subtextual communication system) the ground rules for sex.  Men in general have no real understanding about commitment . . . until it's too late.

While men can force women (and other men) into sex against their will, it is exceedingly difficult to force men into commitment against their will.  Indeed, women cannot proceed to a commitment without your willing consent.  In the past that has been manipulated through pregnancy tests, shotguns, and uneasy crossings of state lines by moonlight, but in most cases a couple can't be married unless the man in question has actively consented. Given up his big C-Card, as it were.

And like virginity (theoretically), you can only give up that big card once.  Thing is, you have no idea just how important that card is to the woman in your life.  Once you understand that YOU control commitment, then you gain power.  You gain hand.  But it doesn't end there.

You see, there are degrees of C-Cards, just like there are degrees of V-Cards ("Twenty-two blowjobs and two anal encounters, but I'm still a virgin!"). Marriage is, of course, the biggie. But it's just the last spot on the ticket to get punched.  Your C-Card usually gets punched more gradually than her V-Card (after she loses it, it becomes her "N-Card", but we'll still call it the V-Card.  I'm sure you can think of a handy mnemonic), and sometimes it can get punched without you even realizing it.

First Love

The first box to be punched on that card is the "first love", usually a high-school or college girl who touched your junk (or maybe more) for the first time causing your hormones to fall in love with her in a fit of undying gratitude.  Oh, you might pin it to your "first kiss", or your first real date, but it's all just romantic infatuation until the penis gets involved.  When she touched your dick for the first time, you were in First Love, whether you knew it or not.  Don't dismiss the power of First Love/first handjob in a man's mind lightly.  Hell, James Joyce built a career on it.

You usually let her punch that "first love" ticket on your C-Card, and you gave your heart to her whether she was worthy or not (usually the latter).

If it was more than a long weekend or a couple of days, then you may move up a notch.  Luckily, the "First Love" punch is almost a freebie. Very rarely does that turn into a legitimate commitment, unless intercourse and pregnancy get involved.  But you only get one.

Girlfriend

The second punch on that ticket is "girlfriend".  That's a big one on the C-Card, especially the first time, and this day and age you usually get anywhere from 7 to 10 of these before you seriously consider progressing.

This spot on the card was really developed in the post-WWII 1950s, the Archie/Veronica/Betty-in-Riverdale ideal.  "Going steady" originally meant that you were a girl's steady (weekly) date, the girl you experimented sexually with in the back seat of a borrowed car every weekend after working each other up in anticipation all week.

The original industrial-age protocol was to swap steady dates around through High School until people were more or less reasonably happy with their choices, looking forward to a steadily escalating exchange of sex and commitment until the Big C-Card and the Big V-Card (or a reasonable facsimile) got exchanged on the Big Day.  Then you bought a starter home, started having kids, and went to work for someone you'd retire from thirty years later.

Eventually people started smoking weed and having sex in the 1960s and your "steady" turned into your girlfriend. And that first girlfriend could be a doozy.  Sometimes (but not always) the same girl who punched your "First Love" ticket ends up checking the first "girlfriend" box on your card, and may even have the first taste of real expectation of commitment beyond bringing a corsage to Prom to a woman, so pay attention carefully.  I've known guys who -- through no fault of their own -- ended up having a girlfriend just because they weren't paying close enough attention.  One moment you're getting your oil changed by some chick in the back seat, and the next you're going to her house for dinner to meet the parents on Saturday . . . and all you really wanted was a handjob.  Don't let this happen to you.

Basic Girlfriend

While the exact nature and expression of the Girlfriend commitment changes, there are a few fundamentals:

1) You commit to not "see other people".  You are committing to be (at least temporarily) monogamous.
2) You are both willing to tell other people of your exclusivity and even engage in acceptable PDAs.
3) You agree to spend a certain amount of time together in the pursuit of both sexual and non-sexual intimacy.
4) You agree to not openly leer or talk about other people for whom your loins may incidentally ache.
5) You agree to attend each other's non-family social events "as a couple". (we'll get to family in a minute).

Okay, that's Basic Girlfriend.  You can knock all of that out in a week or two, and still call it a relationship in this day and age.  Failure to agree to do any of the above means you haven't really handed over your C-Card -- you aren't treating her like a girlfriend, and if she calls herself that before you've granted her permission, that's potential chump-bait  (say, if she calls you her boyfriend before she's touched your junk more than once. Arbitrary, I know, but it's a place to start the metric).

Consider any assumption of prerogatives not expressly given as a failed Fitness Test, indicating an unlikely choice for a long-term relationship.  You can safely rack up quite a few of these "shorties" without too much worry (and if they're short enough, it's likely she won't even count you toward her "number").

Beyond that, there's...

Intermediate Girlfriend

At that level, a chick who punches your C-Card has established social control over you, theoretically in exchange for increased sexual access.  It implies all of Basic Girlfriend, but includes:

1) Actual dates - social excursions designed for the sole purpose of entertaining and increasing both non-sexual and sexual intimacy.

2) A shared circle or pool of friends. Often this is the point where a woman will start evaluating your potential for a long-term partnership and begin trying to influence your development through whom you spend your time with.  Your friends she sees as "bad influences" will be pruned from your combined social calendar, while friends she sees as good influences (say, dudes with girlfriends she can stand) are encouraged to remain.  NOTE: your girlfriend and her girlfriend will automatically form a node of the FSM, a node which they --collectively -- will try to establish control over you and the other dude -- collectively.

3) Gifts and expressions of sentiment on appropriate occasions (to be negotiated).

4) Spending the night occasionally after sex.

5) Notification of parents/Facebook that you are a couple.

6) Sharing meals together on a regular basis.

7) Daily communication.

8) She can legally keep tampons in your bathroom, in moderation.

9) Your BFFs are introduced, and then introduced to each other.  Hilarity often ensues.  Just ask Harry and Sally.

The Intermediate Girlfriend box isn't that bad, and usually begins anywhere from 2-6 weeks into a standard-issue relationship.  If you've started having sex and getting to know each others' bodies, then it's still exciting fresh and new.  The novelty and the serotonin and the vasopressin and the oxytocin create a thick, rich cocktail and her boobs look perfect and you don't even notice the annoying way she laughs.

At this point, the punches on your C-Card are still fairly innocuous and fun.  You've only committed your emotional, sexual and social life to her, nothing further (to a chick, please remember, the emotional and social enjoy a much higher value and the sex a much lower value . . . but she's usually willing to pretend otherwise -- yay, hamster!)

This is also the point where most nascent relationships begin falling apart.  Extended contact and knowledge of the other person begins to reveal flaws behind the "good girlfriend behavior".  We might start to get the first glimmerings that she is

a) a closet feminist

b) batshit crazy or

c) actively husband shopping.



In addition, by Intermediate Girlfriend you should be able to evaluate whether or not she is

a) sexually compatible,

b) socially compatible (say, if she's a racist and you aren't, might be a problem)

c) flaky as hell.

Depending on just how good the sex is, you should keep all of these in mind during the Intermediate phase and determine whether or not to abort the relationship.  Most dudes get blinded by pussy and the Blue Pill and social expectations and end up ignoring the obvious warning signs, ending up with the Hellbeast Girlfriend. I'm not saying avoid her - she's instructional.

So is getting your assed kicked by a prison gang.

If you decide to bail, don't fret it.  Women Are Fungible.  Finding another and starting over means a brand new chance and brand new pussy and maybe a chick who's a little freakier than your last one.  You can get another girlfriend as easily as you can get another car.  But if you don't bail when the danger signs are clear, then you can expect her to make more demands on your C-Card.  And this is when things start getting bad.  This is . . .

Advanced Girlfriend

Your mileage may vary, but you can trace Advanced Girlfriend to a combination of any two of these three occurrences: Meeting the parents/siblings; going on a multi-day trip alone as a couple, or attending any wedding together as a couple.  Any one of these, and you're in danger of getting your AG box punched.  Any combination and . . . dude, you got a serious girlfriend.  Says so right on your C-Card.  You either accept that, or you find a graceful way to bail ("Your parents are LUTHERAN?  Die, blasphemer!" often works).  Of course, even if you avoid the above, if you celebrate your One Year Anniversary, you've got a bad case of Advanced Girlfriend.

AG comes with a whole lot of baggage.  Sexual, social, personal, psychological, if  you leave a relationship any time before this box gets punched you have a reasonable hope of bouncing back and recovering fairly quickly.  But the longer a girl has your AG box punched, the more and greater the expectations.

From her perspective, if she's introduced you to her parents and they actually like you, you went to a wedding and danced with her and looked half-way decent in a tux, and you made it for three days at that run-down Bed & Breakfast in the Catskills without killing each other (you might have gotten anal as a reward for your good behavior - and if you didn't, take that into consideration.)  If you passed all three of those tests, then you have Serious Boyfriend Potential, and her pursuit of your C-Card begins in earnest.

Serious Girlfriend

The Serious Girlfriend box gets checked on your card about the Year Three mark, and/or your decision for real.
to cohabitate.  A live-in boyfriend is a test run for a more permanent relationship.  It's also the point at which the wise Red Pill man starts vetting his girlfriend

It's not all-bad.  Some dudes see Serious Girlfriend as a safe spot between Hopelessly Single and Married.  And this is where most dudes start pressing the serious sexual stuff.  Because while she's starting to think about wedding locations and honeymoon destinations, you're thinking about anal, oral, and what her sister looks like naked in your imagination.  By this point, you probably already know what she will and won't do in bed, and what she does and doesn't like.  You might be wrong, but you know.  And you should be getting laid like a champ for a while, too, as your SG tries to upgrade her spot on your C-Card.

This is usually where the gloves come off sexually, too.  During the evaluation-and-vetting period, you've got to establish if she's going to be sexually-compatible long-term.  You have to settle the issue of kids.  You have to determine future birth-control options.  And you have to decide if you really can stand hitting just that one pussy for the rest of your life.  So think about this carefully.  Then think about it some more.


At the SG point, many of the mundane domestic matters have already been settled.  The toilet seat question, the grocery-and-cooking question, the housework question, the religion question, the social issues, and the day-to-day minutia of a relationship have been gone over exhaustively, and you still haven't broken up.  During the SG phase, this is where you turn up the heat before proceeding any further.  Despite its name, SG is the last step you have before the serious commitment phase.  Use it wisely.

I'll cover good vetting and wife-testing in future posts, but for now just assume that you have assembled your list and have begun figuring out whether she's going to work out, long-term.  While three years might SEEM long-term, the fact is it's the minimum time I would spend investigating and vetting any woman who wasn't a brilliant, independently wealthy "10" with incurable nymphomania and an oral fixation.  For at least a year, you need to put this woman through her paces and challenge her, observing and noting every reaction to adversity or provocation.


But your serious vetting shouldn't go more than two years.  If you don't know by your fifth anniversary, then you really DO know, and just don't want to admit it.  If she passes the tests (and you pass yours) then you can consider proceeding to the next box on your C-card: Engagement.

Fiancee

This is the Penultimate Step.  The second-to-last box on your C-Card.  Fuck this part up, and you're going miserable.
to be

The Fiancee stage comes (ideally) when you have decided to offer a woman a pledge of open-ended commitment. It's stating your intent to be with her for the rest of her life.  It's not a "celebration of your love", it's the point at which you've agreed on general terms, and now it's time to begin the negotiation process for permanent status.

Once you give a girl an engagement ring, they're notoriously hard to get back.  But it's still a pencilled-in commitment, with no real legs in court ("breach of promise" notwithstanding, thanks to feminism).  You still have the power to end the relationship at any time and clear your C-Card.

Fiancee is where you decide between the two of you the Big Questions: where shall we live, what jobs should we have, how many children and should they be raised Jewish, dog or cat, whose parents get Christmas and whose get Christmas Eve, live tree or artificial tree, blinds or curtains, etc. etc.  These are Advanced Domestic Issues, and they need to be settled.  The Fiancee slot is where you start consciously knitting your family cultures together.  That's not always easy.  Hell, it's never easy, unless you marry an orphan (HIGHLY recommended . . .).

But a wise man doesn't proceed to this step unless he has already assured himself that he will not regret it.  And that means either doing a whole lot of vetting or a whole lot of luck.  While the latter is nicer to have, it's harder to come by.

The process of vetting your future spouse is worthy not just of another post, but of another entire book.  Let's just pretend you've done all that, and you are certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that this woman is The One, or at least A Real Good One, and you feel comfortable taking that last step, the last box on your C-Card save death: Marriage.

(First) Wife

This is the big one.  This is the point past which no man may tread lightly.  When you put a ring on it, you're legally becoming one person with your wife.  There are sacred obligations implicit with the office, and while technically you can "go back" and un-punch your WIFE box, the process is painful and expensive -- akin to a woman having her hymen surgically re-attached.

Wives can be your greatest joy or your greatest curse, the reason you go to bed every night and get out of bed every morning . . . or the reason why you hide in the bathroom, masturbating gloomily.  They can watch your back and make your bed, or they can sabotage your plans and spend your bread.  Letting someone get that far up your C-Card who doesn't respect the measure of commitment implied in marriage is a recipe for chaos and disaster.

Second Wife

Unless you're a widower, remarrying is nothing less than the victory of optimism over experience.  Yet many
men find wonderful partnerships in their second wives for a number of reasons.  Honestly, the man I know who historically was most down on marriage after his divorce is now blissfully happy with a woman sixteen years his junior.  He claims his earlier screeds against the institution were based on a poor selection sample.  His second wife was vetted far more thoroughly than his first, and being older and presumably wiser my friend had a much better idea about what he wanted in a wife . . . as opposed to what he wanted in a girlfriend.

But other second marriages are no better than first marriages, and sometimes far worse.  The native enthusiasm and tenacity you had with your first wife are broken -- you know for a fact that things can go horribly wrong, and the ideal of True Love is no longer the untarnished trophy you once thought. Age and desperation also play a role.  My grandfather remarried a few years before his death, and while the two of them got along great while he was alive, I cannot help but wonder what would have happened had he lived far longer with her.

Summary

That's your C-Card, Gentlemen.  From First Love to Second Wife and beyond, your commitment level is the biggest card you have in your hand when you meet a woman.  Sex is easy -- she can get it anywhere.  But a woman who craves commitment (and a thunderous majority do) the way you crave cooze is just as determined to get it from you as you are determined to relieve her of her virtue.  Of course, the old-style exchange of sex-for-security no longer applies, strictly speaking, but even in our post-industrial civilization commitment is still coin-of-the realm in the Female Social Matrix.

The important things to take away from this are the following: a woman who is a great girlfriend does not necessarily make a great fiance or wife.  And a woman who will be an ideal wife may be a mediocre girlfriend.  But as you contemplate expanding your commitment with the woman in your life, be mindful of the pros and cons of such a move.  I would no better counsel my sons to propose marriage on early acquaintance (say, anything under three years of courtship and vetting) than I would condoning my daughter having sex without thought of consequence.

The 21st century Red Pill gentleman will understand the role that his C-Card plays in motivating the women in his life, and he will play that card very cautiously, appreciating it for the treasure it is. When he is too eager to turn it over to a woman, it's usually because of sex in some form or fashion -- which is ironic, because with an open C-card, a dude with Game can get sex in part on the basis of his open card.

The value of your C-card to any particular woman is going to be variable, of course, and some will judge you harshly because of it.  A long history of short relationships is going to be a red flag for all but the horniest ovulating women -- and those ladies are going to be convinced they can fuck you into it, if they tried hard enough.

Be a sport.  Let them try.

But hold onto your C-card like its the One Ring, and be as stingy as possible with it.  Why?  Because men who are too willing to commit too early raise red flags with women too, just  like a woman who sleeps with a dude on the first date raises red flags with men.  If you do not value your C-Card for what it is -- your Precious -- and are liberal with how you commit, you lower your own value.  And the lower you value yourself, the lower the women you meet value you.

It is hard, but it pays off.  The more you value your C-card, the higher value you have.  And the more you bring to the table as a potential husband, the higher value your C-card has.  That means having higher standards in the early days, and keeping to them later on.  That means considering and reconsidering the situation seriously before being willing to even be called someone's "boyfriend".  That means understanding that your ability to make a woman a wife is one of your most desirable characteristics (after wealth and power), even more important than the size of your dick.  That means breaking an engagement (or postponing it) if you are not absolutely happy with how things are going.

Men are not taught to value their own commitment, not overtly.  Of course, when society values their commitment less, men tend to downgrade their commitment value as well.  The advent and popularity of divorce culture has cheapened the very meaning of a marital commitment in most men's eyes, as demonstrated by the plummeting marriage rates and the higher median age of first marriages.  Why take the risk your girlfriend will be a bad wife or a future ex-wife, when you can just break up, move on, and get another girlfriend?  The C-card lets you do that.  Don't leave home without it.

The other piece of good news is that your SM value naturally rises over time, and the value of your C-card goes up as you become more and more successful.  Again, most men have no idea that a 40 year old single man with a job and a car and a roof over his head is actually a HUGE catch, compared to the alternatives in the Puerarchy.  He might feel utterly inadequate about it, and some are quite mystified how it happens, but a middle-aged man who has conserved his C-card wisely is gold bullion to the commitment-starved women in America.


Gentlemen, be aware and mindful of your C-card status.  Don't pretend that this shit happens "naturally", that you'll propose when you know the time is right (but not necessarily the woman).  Dangle that C-card over her head until she demonstrates her true colors, and then decide whether or not to let her punch it . . . or to move on to someone with better prospects.

Athol Kay's post today at MMSL (Yay, more blog posts!) "Everything Is Better Except I'm Not In Love Any More" concerns what I suppose I should call a Side Effect of Long Term Use of the Red Pill.




The question revolves around what happens when you take the Red Pill, institute the changes to your home and life that are needed, redefine your relationship with your wife . . . and it works.

That's amazing enough for most Red Pill dudes - after all the years they spent shuttling between Mars and Venus looking for the answers, when they stumble across a skillset that actually produces tangible results it can come as quite a shock.  I consider that first year the "Superpowers" phase, when you start understanding everything under the influence of the Red Pill.

But then a kind of complacency settles in.  When you get to the part Athol talks about, where you have incorporated so much of the Married Game skillset into your relationship that it is automatic and you’re looking around going “okay, I’m getting laid like Hefner, now what?”, the next step can be a renewed cultivation and appreciation of your marriage.

When you realize, much to your amazement, that the issues that use to preoccupy you constantly ("Is she mad at me?  What did I do wrong?  Am I getting laid tonight?")  no longer occupy any of your attention, then you may well find yourself puzzled with what to do with the spare capacity . . . and you may realize that some of the perverse fun you took out of your Blue Pill relationship was the constant sniping.  It was how you interacted back then, and when you no longer spend all evening arguing over who was funnier on Seinfeld, you might find some of the enthusiasm you once had for your relationship has waned.

Part of it is the Red Pill.  Once you have a proper understanding of Love, you lose the Mystery of it.  That can be depressing, because everyone wants to believe in Love as a cultural constant.  Knowing it's a chemical soup of hormones and psychochemistry makes some of the magic fade even as you use your knowledge to improve your life.  Kind of like discovering a Santa costume in your dad's closet when you're 11.  You still like the presents, but the mystery is gone.

But that's not the end-game of the Red Pill.  The second year, as your family adjusts to its effects, is when you solidify the foundations and make a concerted effort to not just enjoy the benefits of your marriage, but to actively pursue renewing your interpersonal relationship with your wife.  You can engineer your way into falling back into love, if you approach it right. You can re-ignite love in your life after the Red Pill – hell, you can realize heights and depths of love (and it has both) you never imagined, post-Red Pill.

The key is novel shared experience. As comfortable as your marital routine is, it’s routine, even after the Red Pill. Complacency is the enemy of Romance.  While the Red Pill might show you the unpleasant innards of the beast, it also informs you that adults need novel stimulation in order to maintain a healthy level of attraction to our mates.  There's research aplenty on this, and its supported by fieldwork.  In order to burn some new and exciting pathways, it’s essential to indulge in novel experiences together, from the utterly mundane (say, churning butter on an Amish farm) to the fantastically exotic (say, “churning butter” . . . in the couples room at the Bunny Ranch).

An active approach is best. As much fun as watching television or movies together can be, it’s also essentially passive. Going panning for gold together? Much more active. Seeing a Broadway show in New York? Much more active.  Taking fencing or dancing lessons together?  Much more active.  Taking a Introduction to Mandarin course together so you can talk dirty to each other in Chinese in front of the kids? Much, much more active (h/t Firefly).

Or be utterly daring. Crank up the kink. Indulge in that most intimate of connections . . . the creative collaboration.

It doesn’t have to be good, it doesn’t have to be artful, but if you work together on a shared vision, help each other create something, and do so in a context that is personally meaningful you help re-ignite that sense of individual ego that’s essential to developing the mindset you need to spark “in love” again.  Most of us are amateur artists of one sort or another, and most of us have at least one artistic talent we want to explore . . . but never had time to.

So challenge each other.  If your wife used to paint, then dig out her easel and draw a pencil sketch for her to paint.  Bonus points if it's erotic.  If you used to write, then start a dirty story, get it to a really good part, and then have her do the next chapter.  If both of you are interested in sculpting  then buy five pounds of clay and get really dirty and really creative.  Construct a vibrator shaped like your penis using Adam & Eve's Clone-a-Willy kit together. . . and then make another one for your recently-divorced sister-in-law, just because your wife likes to brag.

And everyone can fingerpaint.  It takes no talent, and no one expects great art.  Try doing a fingerpainted portrait of your naked spouse while they do the same, and then enjoy the result.  Tack it up in your office.  Hell, post it on your fridge.  It'll screw with the kids.

This is important for a couple of reasons.  Being creative accesses new parts of your brain, and once accessed, they're open for new experience . . . all new experience.  If your brain is open to the idea of sculpting, it's also open to the idea that your wife's eyes look dreamy when she's thinking really hard about something.  Indulging in a mutual creative project gives you both the opportunity to appreciate new things about your old spouse, or discover capacities you never imagined they had.

Creativity – art in particular – is all about ego. Collaborative art is about vision, compromise, and communication. It doesn’t have to be good art – and it won't be - it’s the process that’s important, not the product.  Making art is an investment in your personal culture, an opportunity for you to be both manly and communicative, subtle and bold, playful and serious . . . all of those hard Alpha traits that dampen panties like a wet bus seat.  But more importantly, it's art.  It doesn't have a purpose.  You can't fuck it up.  You can throw it away afterwards (Art Is Not Forever), or you can frame it as an heirloom of your house.

And that's important to remember, too: using art as shared experience to build both attraction (Alpha) and a sense of shared vision (Beta) is an ideal way to open your heart and mind to the inrush of yummy neurotransmitters that we pretend is a noble and timeless emotion.  The art produced is thus not merely a decorative piece, it is a physical testament to your ability to inspire, teach, and learn from each other in ways that we don't often get otherwise.

It's also important not to be too critical -- it's supposed to be fun.  If it's not fun, then you won't get the positive novel experience you're looking for.  Don't take it too seriously, and if it gets fucked up cheerfully chuck it in the trashcan and laugh about it.

That's the kind of thing that helps someone fall in love.

Vox had a commenter who expressed a deep interest in Sigmas, bucking the Alpha trend.  I approve, of course, being a Sigma who has learned to present Alpha when I want.  It gives me some insight on the subject.  Sigmas are not rare in the wild, but they are uncommon.  And they are uncommonly intriguing mates.  Some have expressed that Sigmas are a kind of mythical unicorn.

But Sigmas aren't unicorns.  They're centaurs.



Sigmas are a mystery by design, and in their immature form can resemble hapless Betas, misguided Gammas, or even a desperate Omega, for short periods of time.  That is because they don't come by social skills naturally, they usually have to observe and consciously integrate them.  Especially about sex.  The immature Sigma can stumble and flail wildly with this subject in his early years because he hasn't yet discovered a comprehensive set of instructions on how to properly dip his wick (i.e. Game), but the desire to do so is very much there.

Hence the centaur.

The centaur represents the cthonic combination of the primal strength and majesty of the horse with the manual dexterity, intelligence and reason of a man.  In mythology, centaurs were either rapacious beasts or wise counselors, or some combination of the two.  That's a Sigma: incredible passion and incredible intellect.  In an immature Sigma, the Beast often rules, to disastrous result.  As the Sigma matures, however, he tames his passion with reason, intellect, skill and education, essentially harnessing the beast to his command.  A Sigma who develops self-mastery transforms from a clumsy, earnest, and often-misunderstood young man into a powerful and versatile mature man.  And that versatility is key.

Mature Sigmas can develop the ability of inserting themselves into any social situation and find the place where their skills and abilities will do the most good.  If there is no better leader available, a Sigma can display very strong Alpha characteristics.  If a more-natural leader is available, a Sigma is content to fade back and advise in Beta mode, rather than contend for leadership.  If there are leaders aplenty, then the Sigma will often step up as a mediator and negotiator.  And if things are running smoothly, a Sigma is often
content to accept a very minor role, but one which affords him an opportunity to still have subtle influence and a wide field of observation.

He is not afraid to use deception and misdirection, and his subtlety is often mistaken for passive-aggression by those unfamiliar with his methods.  He can even mimic a Gamma Rabbit or uber-pathetic Omega, if it suits his purposes

The good news?  If you catch them young and care for them properly, a mature Sigma also has the capability of morphing into an extremely powerful Wolf Alpha or Bear Alpha (though rarely a Bull Alpha) with the right woman.  Some of the most devoted family men I know are Sigmas-cum-Alphas.  When a Sigma sets his mind to do something, he often submerges himself in it . . . and if you can get him to do that with wife and family, its as good as hitting the Dude Lotto.

Sigmas are the Gandalfs, the Merlins, the Spocks.  They are the men of skill and quiet, men of deep thought and calculation who seek not their own aggrandizement (although they have powerful egos) but the prosperity and success of themselves and those around them.  A Sigma who has mastered himself often turns toward using his talents to a greater goal, inspiring people with his passion and persuading them with his reason.

Mature Sigmas like to get things done . . . by getting other people to do them.  Enthusiastically.

The best places to find the immature Sigma in the wild often revolve around obscure and esoteric subjects, such as origami, comic books, robotics, technology, science, art, history, gaming, music, etc.  All of the great disciplines of Nerdology.  Sigmas are slow to commit, but once they do they tend to go all-in.  They often seem petty or shallow at first, as they test and probe and try to figure you out.  Don't let it shake you.  They're watching everything you do with the calculating mind of a supercomputer.  Sigmas tend to prefer women who don't get rattled easily and who are not high maintenance, so displaying either of these will get you dropped.

Sigmas like to think their way out of problems.  If one suddenly appears at your elbow, and you're interested and want to hook him, a woman's best counter-line is to propose a challenge involving skill or intelligence, and promise an increase in intimacy as a result.  Be ultra-cautious with your presentation at first, as Sigmas tend to be skittish and will often bolt if they feel things aren't going well (it's a cost-benefit analysis sort of thing, don't take it personally).

But don't rely exclusively on your mind to intrigue him - don't forget that big smelly beast with the eighteen-inch equine phallus lurking under the brainy exterior.  Sigmas are calculating opportunists. If you extend an invitation he can accept, he'll be on like a pot of neckbones.  Or just show him some boob.  Sometimes we're that easy.

A woman must be willing to tolerate some idiosyncratic behavior from a Sigma, sometimes bordering on the neurotic.  Luckily it's rarely dangerous or unhealthy - more "quirky" or "eccentric".

Sigmas get bored easily in relationships, so if you are not up to near-constant intellectual challenge, you might want to find a nice Beta who likes sports.  Keeping him intellectually stimulated is as important as keeping him erotically stimulated, or he can lose interest.  If you can combine the two, so much the better.  Many Sigmas are secret freaks in the bedroom, expressing their lustful passions with intense intellectual vigor.

What kind of woman is a Sigma seeking?  While that varies greatly, in general a Sigma wants a trustworthy companion, an intriguing and inventive playmate, an intellectual equal willing to debate him passionately without taking it personally, a woman who is capable of being self-sufficient but who sees the advantages of a union and is not afraid of making that case.  Sigmas are wary of entanglements, but appreciate a straightforward proposition despite their enjoyment of subtlety.  Sigmas may marry late, and often vet a woman far beyond what a normal Alpha or Beta will.

The wife of a Sigma should be understanding of his peculiarities and appreciate them as features, not bugs.  Trying to change a Sigma around the way you want him is an effort doomed to failure.  You might think you got what you want, but more than likely he's fooling you.  Sigmas often attract attention from other females without realizing it - if they don't know Game, then they don't often recognize clear IoI's.  A woman who marries a Sigma should be prepared to mate-guard as needed, but with the understanding that (if he's happy in the sexual end of things) he likely has little interest in pursuing an affair.



Emotionally, Sigmas can seem very distant . . . but when they do open up and connect, they do so unreservedly and sometimes overwhelmingly.  They use humor and misdirection and verbal wittiness to maneuver their ways through social situations, and can often appear very charming and confident.

Remember that Sigmas are adept at masks, and the truth is under that mask there is a beast and a man.

Cater to both, and you can ride him off into the sunset.

The Manosphere is often accused of misogyny . . . but we're freakin' amateurs at the art, compared to women.

potential woman has issues complying with her medication schedule, that's a red flag.  If she misses time from work because "I just wasn't feeling good", then that's a red flag.  If she displays manic or outrageously flaky behavior, then that's a red flag.  Too many red flags . . . and then there's a flag on the play.

Noted research psychologist and gender scholar Dr. Peggy Drexler released a post at Huffpo recently entitled Men 2020. In it she tries to portray the struggles of men in our society - a point in her favor - while attempting to dismiss most of the current crisis as mere "growing pains" as we accept our new, diminished lot in life - minus half a point.

But it did suggest that a look ahead might be in order.  Since I am also, in addition to being a humble pornographer, sex nerd, author, bon vivant, old married guy, also a science fiction writer and futurist, I thought I would give some thought to the subject of the Future of Men.  Dr. Drexler gets some parts of it right, but she relates it in a slightly patronizing (matronizing?) manner, and I don't feel her conclusions are taking in the scope of the problem.

Luckily, I did a chapter on this very subject for the Manosphere book, and this looks like a good place for an excerpt, of sorts.

Let me begin this way: the situation is both more dire and less dire than Dr. Drexler reports. First, while the
 "confusion" she talks about men suffering in contemporary society is real, that's not quite the right word for it.  More "confusion, anger, resentment, and suspicion".  Everywhere men look, the misandrous pronouncements of media are throwing us under the bus.  We're obsolete, we've been told.  We no longer matter.

Bullshit.  We matter quite a bit, and you ladies are about to learn just how much we can matter.  More, the people we matter the most to is you, and you are, collectively, fucking things us.  We're not happy about it, but like Dr. Drexler said, we're adapting . . . just not in the ways you want us to.

She tries to hold out the Millennials as examples of men "bettering" themselves.  She gives several examples that seem to rate that measurement purely in terms of how much Millennial men are willing to make themselves more useful servants to womankind . . . but very little that considers the innate masculine values.

True, she points out the increase in time spent fathering that the Millennial men seem to display as a sign of progress, and I cannot disagree.  My heart is warmed with the number of young men I've seen take an active hand in the fathering of their children, largely (in my observation) due to the utter lack or estrangement of fathering in their own lives.  

These young men are, indeed, committed to family, as they have seen (despite its innate fragility in our era) how family is one of the few constants in our lives.  They want kids.  They want wives.  They want wives . . . who won't divorce them.  And they want wives they can stand.

So you can expect them to be a bit choosy.  Hell, we should encourage them to hold on to that C-Card as long as they can, hold out for the best deal possible, the highest quality woman . . . and not settle for less.  Teach them how to make the mommy-wannabes come to them, and demonstrate what they bring to the table.

But as I said, the future is bright.  The Millennials are still young.  They are still impressionable.  And they haunt the internet like ghosts.

And the internet is where the Manosphere is.  For the young men of the Millennial generation, things are looking bright, believe it or not.  If they play their cards right, everyone will learn Game, the future fathers of America will use their pump-and-dump Puerarch palls to weed out the poorer specimens of femininity, and focus on the few high-quality future wives in the bunch.

Do it, dudes.  Be PICKY.  Don't settle for less.  And you can afford to be.  You know why?  Because when I said you were in high demand, I wasn't tugging your jockstrap.

You see, within the Sexual Market Place, Dads are more highly valued than Cads, but around the time you're getting married few of you know which one you are, and the women in your lives are banking a lot more on your potential return than on your present value.  If you decide to go the Cad route, then your best bet is to get a vasectomy, learn Game, and hump everything in a skirt for the rest of your life.

But if you decide to go the Dad route, and are serious about it, then you build your value and your potential value now . . . and focus on searching diligently for a woman worthy enough to match your level of commitment.  And that ain't easy.  Luckily, thanks to this bit of light-hearted banter, your value is about to skyrocket.  Next, she tells us that men of the future . . .

They will be androgynous followers of a new and superior model of female leadership.

She says that like its a good thing.  It's not, for either gender.  If you want any indication of where the status quo will actually lead us if we go down Dr. Drexler's happy, testosterone-light path, we need look no further than Japan.  And the Herbivores.

If you want to see what Dr. Drexler's "new and improved Millennial men" look like, here's a perfect example. See if you really want to face this future, ladies.  And fellas, this is what you'll have to compete against in the future if you want to be even a mediocre dad.  You might be the worst bull in the herd, the roughest-looking pup in the pack, the puniest bear in the den, but at least you, Gentlemen, are carnivores.  This is what your sisters have to look forward to.

Excerpted from the Manosphere book:

If we stopped there it would indicate that we are headed toward a new improved model of males -- kinder, gentler, more accepting and more attached to home and family then men of the past.

racing antique cars, or spending endless hours playing WoW or guitar or just watching YouTube or any number of other "fun" stuff we like that doesn't involve a complicated, demeaning relationship with a Western woman who, in the final analysis, does not have his best long-term interest in mind.

For women the fall of gender boundaries has meant freedom, choice and opportunity. For men it has meant confusion. The expectations and assumptions that formed the superstructure for manhood for generations has fallen away, with nothing yet emerging to take their place.

And what's this?

Most are adjusting nicely to the withdrawal of past entitlements. They will form the core of 2020 men who compete and win without privilege.

"Outta here!"

 Ah, no.  That's wishful thinking, I'm afraid, Dr. Drexler.  If that is your assessment of modern young men and their attitudes toward the future, I suggest that you are not looking closely enough.  What you see as "adjusting nicely" is just the parts you want to see.  The parts you don't want to see are still there, and WE sure as hell see them.

"Mediocre or Average? Just what do I want in a future ex-wife?"

If young women today want to get married but have no interest in being wives, the young men today don't want to be their husbands. Nor do they want to commit to a society where they will STILL be accused of using privilege in competition in 2020, STILL be given unfair handicaps to overcome said "privilege" and then STILL be considered undervalued, atavistic, disposable.  Young men will not "compete" in the future, Dr. Drexler, because women in aggregate (which you feel will be dominating the leadership positions, due to their inherent superiority . . .) do not value competition.

Therefore they will seek to further handicap the men in the office with competition-reducing measures and consensus-building organizations that are designed to keep achievement from happening or male leadership from being valued.  No glory, no value, no honor, not in a system where the rules are set one way for women, another for men.

We will not compete with that.  We might show up, work 8 hours, and take home a paycheck, but compete?

Fuck that, boys.  Save it for something important.  Like building your own fighting robot.  

That's the proper response to the whole "decline of men" meme.  Demonstrate to the women gloating about their "victory" that they won through forfeit, because we just don't want to play in a game that's fixed, so we didn't show up to play. While they re-defined femininity to involve corporate achievement and team-building exercises, we will re-define masculinity to involve the issues and interests that are ours, and ours alone.

And that doesn't mean sitting our fat asses in a cube farm so that our female boss at work is happy and our female boss at home is happy and we're fucking miserable.

The time for that has passed.  Now we live in the time of the Manosphere, where clues to every man's masculine destiny are just a click away.

My prediction is that we will see the rise of Gamma and Delta and Omega "herbavores" arise, but not quite like in Japan.  But we will also see a lot of those boys ditching their fears, learning Game, hitting the gym, dropping their responsibilities and catching a ride someplace interesting to go meet a girl who's not so complicated and do something a lot less permanent than marriage.  While I agree with Dr. Drexler that going back is not happening, her vision of "going forward" is not a happy one, even for the male Progressive.  But that's not the only way forward, fellas.  Androgyny and female domination aren't necessarily in your future -- there's an escape clause!


Dr. Drexler says:

Others will struggle: some to the point that they simply choose to opt out of the competition -- in education, careers, even relationships.

I maintain that this is not a struggle, Gentlemen: the answer is powerfully abundant.  This world does not have your interests at heart, nor do the women around you.  You will NOT be rewarded for being a good and diligent employee.  You will NOT be rewarded for being a loving and capable husband.  You will NOT be valued for being an attentive and involved father, no matter what they say.  And you will NOT see an over-abundance of marital comfort as a result of your dedication to laundry and dishes.  It's a lie, a damnable lie.

So prepare yourself to drop out.  Roosh did.  Jonathan Frost did.  There is a world of adventure beyond the jaded vaginas of the UMC white college-educated woman.  The corporate feminists who insist that a career can come before family, leave them alone.  Pretend they have dicks.  They might as well have -- they damn sure aren't going to be the kind of wife you can rely on.

Cede her the "power" implicit in a 70 work week, let her revel in making partner before she's 40, let her sneer at how she "beat" you "fair and square" and gloat how you just weren't competitive enough.  Let her languish in her glass-floored office and soak up the thrill of running something she didn't build . . . let her think she's won.  Let her gloat.  Let her feel superior.

Then bang her 23 year old sister and her best friend instead.  

No, it's not responsible.  It's not sensible.  It's not mature.  But that's fine -- you aren't looking for a wife anyway. You're looking for a choice piece of ass or two to enjoy before you have to open the shop in the morning - aren't you happy you dropped out of school?  The woman close to your own age who keeps pressuring you for a date/commitment?  A career woman?  Don't date her.  Don't fuck her.  Don't commit to her.  And DAMN sure don't marry her.  It just isn't in your best interest.  She's not going to want to stay married anyway.  So leave her alone . . . it's one of the things she fears most in the world.

This is an opportunity for you to use the leverage you have (and it is little enough) to free yourself from the idea that you gotta do college, gotta get a career, gotta make some money and marry some chick from college and gotta get a divorce ten years later when "she's not haaaapy."  Use your leverage to build each other into strong, unassailable men, men for whom the self-important rationalizations of their female peers are beneath them utterly.  Approach every new relationship with a huge degree of caution.

The real look at Men, 2020 is like this: seven years from now, the median age for marriage will go up.  The divorce rate will continue to decline as the marriage rate does (GIGO).  Women will be bitterly complaining about the lack of "good" men, while feminist decry the number of dudes who are getting a temporary vasectomy, ditching college, and heading for the beach for an extended adolescence.

Meanwhile, the Manosphere will be going crazy as the Red Pill philosophy grows . . . and younger Millennial women start catching on to the bullshit implicit with "co-equal partnerships" and start reconsidering their futures.  But they had better not take too long.

Our sperm is viable until we're 70, and our attractiveness grows while yours fades.  Our sons have plenty of time.  If you haven't wised up to the idea that men like feminine women and won't settle for less by 2020 (and that does put almost all the Gen X women beyond the safe age for procreation - sorry!) then you really do deserve (for once) what you'll get: increasing frustration and hopelessness is one of your biggest fears - "being alone" - comes true for you, one by one.  No True Love.  No Happily Ever After.  Your best bet will be sex tourism and finding a foreign dude who needs a green card.  Good luck with that.

But if you ladies aren't willing to learn how to be a wife, then you can forget about our boys becoming your husbands.  We won't let them.   We've been down that road and know where it leads.  Our boys deserve better than that.  If you won't let them become the men they want to be, then we'll find them wives who will, wives who will be devoted, warm, comforting, respectful and appreciative - all the things we are finding lacking in the women growing up today.

And don't think we can't find them wives like that.  We don't mind Asian or Latino grandchildren.  They're adorable.

Hopefully, by 2030 y'all will get your collective head out of your collective ass before you ruin another generation of young women by advocating the disrespect and derision with which you see men today.  But if not, that's not the fault of men for not shaping themselves to be compliant to women.  That's women not being able to themselves see past their own privilege in our society long enough to see the damage they've done to it.  And if they don't . . . well, it's not because we didn't warn them.

The fact is, there are plenty of things a man can walk away from, despite what John Wayne said.  The social expectation that he must marry and reproduce and become a productive and driven member of society is one of them.  Without any kind of incentive of having any kind of good wife out of the equation . . . why should we bother going out with you, much less marrying you?

One of the things I didn't anticipate about starting a Manosphere blog was the number of chicks I'd meet.


One of my readers is the growing number of women I call Red Pill Wives.  For those of you in the hairer parts of the Manosphere, the MGTOW, MRA, PUA, and Puerarchy in particular, the idea of women in the Manosphere is abhorrent or laughable, I remind you that there are plenty of women just as pissed off and disgusted at the present intergender situation as you are, and are seeking resolution. So in the interest of good faith and positive growth, I ask that you chillthefuckout about their motivations and such.  I mean it.  I'm invoking the Patriarchy card, here. Don't make me stop this car.

Red Pill Wives are women who are desperate for the kind of ALPHA in their marriage that impels most EPL divorces.  They love the men in their life - or devoutly want to find a man to put into their life to love.  They are the Real Deal.  And they are just as confused as we are over all of these issues, but theyare making a real good-faith effort at trying to figure them out.  I'm not saying they're perfect little Stepford wives, either.  They're real women with real issues and real problems, and they fuck up ALL the time.  Just ask them. They are mothers and ex-wives and veterans and some of them have been as abused by feminism as we have.

But they learn from their mistakes, share their results, and encourage us to be the manly, masculine men we aspire to be.   They aren't shoving us up on a pedestal . . . but I don't think they would mind it too much if I referred to them as the "Manosphere's Cheerleading Squad".


Among the newest of these ladies who blog is a reader of mine who just began her blog, Motivational Heirarchy, with essentially a challenge:

 Can you guys in the Manosphere knock off the chick-bashing a few minutes and tell us how to encourage our dudes to ALPHA up?  Pretty Please?  Because our BETA men need some guidance on issues of confident, positive masculinity and a few words of wisdom might, y'know, give them a good solid shove in the right ALPHA direction?  

And she asked really nicely, so I told her I would.

Consider this a plea on the order of Leia's hologram: "Help me, Manosphere, you're my only hope!" and I'm a sucker for that sort of thing.


I've started a book on it, already.  Indeed, I want to build the ultimate guide to Breaking your Beta, with suggestions of how specifically a devoted woman can help get her man more manly.  I've already mentioned the importance of knowing how to Extend an Invitation as part of your girl game, and if anyone needs advice on practical humpiness, feel free to write.  But there seems to be more a woman can do to get her man to lead without directly telling him.  That's Solomon's Dilemma -/if your woman has to ask you to take charge, then she's the one initiating and you're just doing what she says, so it doesn't really count.

But you can't just up and decide one day you can go from buttery-soft Beta to lean, hard Alpha.  It takes work, it takes time, it takes patience, and it takes a Plan. I personally recommend Athol Kay'sMale Action Plan.  If you're new to the concept of the Red Pill, Athol's books, blog, and forum are the Muppet Labs of the Married Manosphere.  The forum in particular is generating quite a community of people who are more or less in the same boat: trying to save their marriages without paying a fortune to the divorce industry.

If you need remedial assistance, then read Married Man Sex Life Primer first, which outlines the concept of Game and Married Game, as well as giving the most comprehensive and meaningful Sex Ed a dude will ever get. It's the Introductory Dose of the Red Pill that you need, and it will help you begin down the road of the MAP.  It will be strangely like having superpowers for a while.  Seriously, if we knew this shit in high school, we'd be . . . well, thinking far more pleasantly about high school.  Also commonly recommended is Robert Glover's No More Mister Nice Guy.


We'll likely explore all sorts of methods of getting your dude to Alpha up, but there is one thing you have to understand, right at the outset: the Red Pill is a personal, not political response to the issues of a twenty-first century, post-industrial, post-feminist marriage, and if all of this sounds scary to you because it goes against everything you've been told . . . well, you're going to have to re-examine some of your personal sacred cows and decide if you think political consistency and what your college roommate thinks about you is more important than your marriage.

Think really, really hard about that one before you go down this road with us, because once you take the Red Pill, well, there are things you can't unsee.  Things you can't unlearn.  You will be forever changed, even if you reject it utterly.

But if you want to strive for a happier marital life and get your dude to break his indecisive, limp-ass response to life, then start reading.  And check back here periodically.  This blog is also a laboratory of sorts, and even if you find the politics wonky, the practical advice on Married Game will be worth the effort, I think.  We all work too hard at our marriages to give up lightly.  The advantage of the Red Pill marriage is that it's relatively cheap.  All it takes is a couple of bucks for some cheap e-books, some sort of gym membership, and a willingness to dare a challenge to your preconceptions.  Pretty much for the price of a single marriage counseling session you can re-learn what it is to be husband and wife.

But here's a few caveats about how this is going to play out:


YMMV: everyone's situation is different, and no one plan works for everyone.  What you are doing is collecting information that you may or may not use in your own Marriage Action Plan, which you can think of as an outgrowth of your personal Male Action Plan.  That's the thing that starts to get rid of the Beta.  But like sex advice, only about 30% of it is likely to stick solidly enough to be of use.  That's fine.  Your Mileage May Vary means you take what you need and leave the rest, no regrets and no worries.

Implicit in Breaking Beta is the redemption of you or your man's masculinity.  And while you think you know what masculinity is, ladies, I'm afraid we're the experts on this stuff.  Listening to women for advice about how to be men is how we got here.  I know you think you're helping when you make valuable suggestions, but there are large parts of Breaking Beta that are going to have to be your man's responsibility alone.  He will either fail or he will lead.


If he fails, there are things you can do.  If he succeeds, there are things you will have to do.  But don't offer him helpful advice on Man Things unless he directly solicits your perspective. And even then, it's a perfectly reasonable thing for you to decide, "You know, that's really outside of my feminine comfort zone.  I have every faith in your ability to figure it out though."

The path toward redeeming his ALPHA masculine profile is going to involve a lot of things you will initially feel uncomfortable with.  That's fine.  The stuff you are comfortable with is the stuff that's fucking up your marriage.  You need to be willing to change your approach, or you can't expect results.  And you have to be willing to discard your rationalizations and risk trying something new.  It's hard, just ask the Red Pill Wives out there.  But that's why we're all here.  Our failures are the laboratory, that is where we learn.  Share what you find works, and what doesn't.  It adds to the over-all data pool.  But you can't have illusions.

The Red Pill, at it's core concept, means that you have to perceive your world how it actually is, not cloaked in the subtle exaggerations  rationalizations, and outright lies we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel better about our failures. Like telling your dentist "I brush and floss twice a day" when you know damn well you remember to brush your teeth maybe every other day if you're lucky.  The only one you're fooling you.  You feel guilty, you rationalize it so it won't be your fault.  Man or woman, when you take the Red Pill, you have to own up to the fact that, yeah, it really is my fault.  Accountability is key.  

Sometimes you have to be able to stare your dentist in the eye and say "I don't floss.  I hate flossing.  I know I should floss, but I don't, and I can't think of a damn thing that will motivate me, so we should really find some other way or just stop talking about it."  It's like that.


Along the way you or your dude are going to experience friction as you find your way.  It's expected and normal.  As a dude, for example, you may have to learn to embrace what it is to be Strong, the way our grandfathers were strong when they jumped out of leaky boats to storm a beach or strong the way they were when everything in the world saw Man as either predator or prey.  You Must Get Stronger.  No excuses.  That could mean working out, that could mean adjusting your diet, and that could mean being assertive in ways that make you uncomfortable.

Some ladies may be put-off by the crudity of the our approach.  "Why can't you guys work out your stuff without all the name calling and homophobic stuff?" is a common complaint.  But the fact is, men need profanity in their lives in order to become men.  It is part of our social networking system, a means of establishing dominance and hierarchy   We don't compare shoes, we talk about our junk and how that fucking moron needs to drop the Nice Guy shit and bend his woman over his knee.  Profanity is male subtextual language. Try not to faint.


"Swearing like a sailor" or "Cussing like a trooper" are apt phrases because both the military and the maritime vocations were almost exclusively the province of Men, built on Male values and Masculine principals. So was hunting.  Therefore you can consider a scalding command of invective to be an implicitly male style of communication.

We know how this stuff works, you don't.  Cutting out the cussing and crude metaphors doesn't help.  It hurts. Our verbal abuse is how we learn to toughen up, detach, and objectify things, and that is going to be part of the process.  If you have to pretend not to have heard something that sounded horrifyingly misogynistic or sexist or homophobic, well, that's how dudes talk and the focus of the Red Pill is getting dudes back on track.  Deal with it.  When men talk to other men, this is our language, like it or not.  We can't change it just to please your sensibilities.

Because that's what got us here in the first place.


Some would argue that the goal should be "building a better BETA".  That is, a Nice Guy six days a week and then Conan on Saturday night.  The problem is, you cannot convincingly fake ALPHA over time.  Your presentation eventually has to be assumed, and you can't pussy-out about it. If your milquetoast husband suddenly tried to give you a spanking and be dominant one night, out of the blue, you might not laugh . . . but you wouldn't be convinced, either.

 Let's be clear, we don't want to build a better BETA because regardless of how nice that sounds masculinity doesn't work that way.  If you want your dude ALPHA, then you have to work ALPHA.  You can cultivate plenty of great, comfort-building BETA skills and emotional support and still be a bad-ass.  You just have to be the bad ass first, or it doesn't work.  If you truly want a Leading Man, the only way to get one is to let him be masculine, in all of its ugly glory.  Despite what you think, you'll be happier that way.  Promise.

And dudes, you men who have found your way here and are considering the Red Pill Marriage seriously, you're going to have to escape your comfort zone.  A lot.  Do dangerous things and think dangerous thoughts.  Develop self-discipline and social mastery.  Learn about a lot of shit you never thought you'd think was worth learning.  Go to the damn gym even when you don't feel like it . . . because dedication and resolve are sexy and discipline, the art of doing stuff we don't want to do, is hard.

Betas, you're going to have to tell your woman NO and be able to handle the consequences.  You may have to tell your woman off, even, if things get out of hand but we'll teach you how to deal with that.  You may even have to tell your mother NO or tell her off or otherwise push back against the women in your life so that you may have the space to cultivate your masculinity.

You can't do that with just your wife.  This process involves cultivating solid relationships with other men, establishing masculine zones where feminine proprieties are ignored.  Such places seem alluring to you ladies, because it feels like that's where we hide all the Macho.  You have an almost irresistable desire to invade, to listen in, to overhear and inject yourself into the equation in such Man Caves.  Some of you may even wonder why you can't hang out there as well.  It seems like so much fun!

And it is.  Because there are no women there.


That's not a misogynistic statement, that's a Red Pill Fact.  Men need zones of exclusive masculinity the same way you need feminine spaces, and while your suspicions about what we're talking about are normal, they are also immaterial.  Men need the company of other men to first be initiated into the culture of the mature masculine, and then periodically it needs to be refreshed with our dudes. When we do invite you in, consider it a rare privilege and treat it with the respect it deserves.

Which brings me to the issue of respect.  That's a big one.  You wanna know why we have this bumper crop of Betas on the market?  Part of it is disrespect.  Women in general have developed an active disrespect of the culture of masculinity as "silly" or "antiquated" or "obsolete", and tend to ridicule masculine memes.  That's part of the problem.

The Betas of the world have a hard time respecting themselves because they get little respect from the women in their personal lives.  Mothers, sisters, teachers, girlfriends, all his life he's had women with the "Boys are stupid! Throw rocks at them!" mentality of our popular culture, where husbands are portrayed as bumbling fools and incompetent without female attention and guidance.  When women disrespect masculine memes, that detracts from our ability to find strength in them.  We're struggling against forty years of such disrespect, and it has taken a toll.  You want to know why the Manosphere seems so soaked in misogyny?  Being equated to rapists for having a penis or being called "creepy" or even ridiculed for our desire to be men sucks, and after a while it will piss you off.  


That brings me to the Anger issue.  There is a common complaint among women that the Manosphere is an angry place, and if everyone would just stop being so angry and talk to each other in a reasonable fashion, maybe it wouldn't be and we'd all get along or something.

Stop it.  Stop disrespecting our legitimate anger.  Yes, our anger makes you uncomfortable -- that doesn't mean we aren't entitled to it.  Male anger doesn't make you less secure.  Yes, anger can lead to violence.  But usually it doesn't.  Men get angry, and sometimes we get angry at you for damn good reasons.  Part of the Red Pill process is letting your man get angry without berating him or warning him to back off.  Unless you are feeling physically threatened, the mere fact your dude is PISSED OFF, perhaps about you, is a healthy sign that things are working.

Being asked to suppress our anger has been one of the prime motivators toward BETAhood.  Being told "Don't be mad!" or "Don't get mad about this," or "I'm not going to talk to you if you're angry" or otherwise suggesting that our anger isn't a perfectly legitimate and understandable emotion that needs to be expressed, not suppressed, is disrespectful of our masculinity.  Next time you want to "cool" your dude down and convince him not to be mad . . . Stop.  Bite your lip.  Do not say a word.  Stand there and experience the righteous fury of his anger, because as painful as that might be, it has to happen if you want this to work.

Anger is part of our masculine power.  It's where the ALPHA comes from, our ability to generate huge amounts of emotional energy - say, enough to attack a saber-toothed tiger single-handedly or run into a burning building.  We need our anger and we need our detachment and our objectivity, otherwise we would not have the capacity to consciously slay another human being.  For the last 100,000 years that's what we've needed to do to survive, and just because it's inconvenient and hurts your feelings, we need to be able to express our anger to your face and have you just sit there and accept it without judgement or criticism.  We have the right to be angry, and if you want your man to ALPHA up, you have to let him.


There's more you can do.  Don't hang around women to trash-talk men.  Don't hang around women who abuse and disrespect their own men.  Hit the gym yourself, if you need to or want to encourage him.

And be pretty.

Wow, I almost heard that groan it was so loud.

But yeah, we want you to be pretty.  Not obsesses about your body parts and constantly ask us for affirmation and then demand that we don't know what we're talking about.  We don't want to be your fashion or makeup consultant.  We don't want to give you advice about shoes.  We don't want you to put on makeup all week for work and then slob out on the weekends because that's your 'me' time.  In actuality, that's your 'we' time, and when you sit around in sweats and complain about how much effort it takes to do all that stuff, you kill the ALPHA.

You want a more masculine man?  Be a more feminine woman.  Don't try to make your husband your "best friend", unless you fuck your best friends.  Don't think that it's "just him", and he won't mind if you go in jeans and a t-shirt.  Don't think that he finds your casual attitude and "earthy" functionality of your wardrobe impressive.  Don't include him in the intimate discussions of your menstrual cycle without cause.  Don't ask him his opinion on someone's relationship.  Don't treat him like a girlfriend, in other words, because he's a fucking man.  Your husband.

Wear skirts.  Try to be pretty.  Try to be alluring.  It helps.  When the women in our lives make that effort to be feminine, it makes us want to make a greater effort to be masculine.  Sex helps, of course, so quit using it as leverage.

The fact is that you cannot compel a man to ALPHA up.  But you can impel him: make conditions as ripe as possible, extend invitations, accept his leadership when it is given and give him respect and honor in return.  Learn to cede control to him . . . and responsibility to him.  Don't treat him like another child.  He's your husband.  If you demonstrate that you expect his leadership, then that will impel him towards leading.

There's a lot to this, and I'll be returning to it more in the future.  But I've accepted the challenge.  I want to help the Betas out there revolt against their programming and start acting like the real men both they and their wives want them to be.  Learn to be real men from other men, and learn what that means.

It's not the same thing as the prefeminist, preindustrial masculinity, of course, as market conditions have changed dramatically.  But it is a masculinity forged pragmatically, and with a little more forethought than our grandfather's masculinity.  Its a masculinity that takes into account the essential differences in post-industrial culture and adjusts accordingly.  Its a masculinity that looks not for equality with femininity, but equilibrium.

I guess I should get started.

HOUSEKEEPING!

I've been writing like mad for weeks now, had a really nasty week-long Noravirus outbreak at Stately Ironwood Manor, and I'm in the middle of two different catalogs and a package.  Plus I'm trying to finish a couple of books.  Therefore I haven't been doing much blog houskeeping lately, and it shows.  I do want to call your attention to a couple of things:

Ian wrote another book.  It's called Playground Rules, and it is essentially a collection of my blog postings regarding male and female socialization patterns.  Longtime readers of the blog have probably read most of it already, but if you're looking for a good guide for someone to navigate the Female Social Matrix, this is a great place to start.

I also want to call your attention to the tab at the top of the page listing Revolt of the Goddesses.  It's a mythopoetic attempt to chronicle the issues of feminism and masculinity.  It features the Greek gods, so think of it as a kind of political Percy Jackson.  This was actually part of the Manosphere book until Athol quite rightly pointed out "A bunch of dudes reading about masculinity don't want to read about goddesses! (duh!). I couldn't really argue with that, so I took it out and put it up here because, well, I wrote the damn thing and someone might like to read it.  I'm a fiction writer at heart.

Thanks for reading, stay tuned, and let's help the whole country ALPHA UP!