It’s Not Marriage, It’s the Woman

Despite the fact that I am a serial monogamist – or was (I’m married now) – I read PUA blogs.  Not so much because I care about ways to “open sets” at bars and clubs or learn how to seduce women, but because the voices of the PUA’s are the voices of men who represent a pro-male counterculture that shits all over feminist theory without sounding like whining bitches.  These guys are all the proof you need that feminism is bullshit.

I never really thought about it much when I was younger – when things like seducing as many girls as possible was important to me – but after studying the academics of the alpha male, I’ve come to realize that virtually all of the responses to female behavior that the PUA community would call “alpha” are responses that have always come naturally to me.

Today I’d like to comment on a recent reader submission to my favorite PUA author, Roissy, about marriage, “the ultimate shit test.”  In synopsis, the reader caved in to matriarchy and got pressured into the type of marriage depicted on Married with Children.

As a natural alpha who is recently married, I’d like to describe my experience with marital bliss.

First and foremost, as the reader notes, one of the biggest mistakes he made was letting his wife demand marriage and acquiescing.  I liken this kind of scenario to driving a nail and landing a bad swing.  The nail is crooked.  Anyone who has driven a lot of nails can tell you that driving a nail in that’s bent or crooked is possible, but extremely difficult – much better to yank it out, toss it aside, and start with a fresh nail.

I would never have married my wife on any terms other than my own.  From a legal perspective, the wife has all the cards.  Marriage is an incredible risk for a man, and in many ways a great sacrifice; any woman who would suggest otherwise is oblivious to or actively denies male nature, or somehow has it in their mind that their husband is different.  He isn’t.

Don’t get me wrong.  I did get married because I wanted to get married, and any sacrifice I made was only in exchange for the other, less glamorous but ultimately more fulfilling things in life.  But I wasn’t about to get strong-armed into something I didn’t want by external pressures.  This is hard for a lot of men because a lot of men are followers.

You see, one of the traits that I have always had that is at odds with most of my male peers is a natural aversion to joining anything.  I’m the last person in the world who would join a fraternity.  I don’t want to be part of a group.  I want to be in charge of it.  A corrolary of this attitude is that when someone tells me what I should do, I ignore them.  The only people whose advice I take seriously on important life decisions are other people like me – namely, demonstrable, proven alphas.  I have never taken advice from someone who is not significantly older than I am.  To be fair, I also take my mother’s advice.  She’s my mother, after all.  Some things can’t be changed, nor should be.

If my future wife had ever pressured me, I would have dumped her.  Now, since I didn’t want to find myself in that position, I made sure to tell her a story about the girl I dated before her, who was trying to get me to go to some stupid party for one of her fat ugly friends in DC.  I had no desire to mingle with a bunch of troglodytes so I was putting up a tactful resistance, namely, “hell no.”  This girl who I had been seeing a few times a week for about four months actually thought that a good leverage tool would be to ask me if I ever saw the two of us getting married – presumably in the hopes that I would say yes which could open up an entire line of argument like, “well if we get married we will need to see each others’ friends…” and pressure me with the husband-duty angle, long before we had ever even brooched the subject of marriage.  I looked her straight in the face and said, “No.”

Since not only did I crush her dreams, in one fel swoop I had shut the door on the one avenue she had of convincing me to go to this stupid party, she went home crying and told her friend that she was sick and couldn’t make it to the party.  I waited for her to call me.

In her case, it was as it should have been because she had started the post-marriage weight gain slide from solid 7 to warpig despite the fact that we were not married.  In the course of a few months she gained about 25 pounds and it got to the point where I could not be seen in public with her.

But I digress.  I told my future wife this story relatively early in our relationship for a couple of reasons.  First, I wanted to ensure that a repeat of this event wouldn’t happen.  I wanted her to understand how I would respond to this kind of scenario.  And I wanted to make it clear that if I ever thought that marriage would be in our horizon I would tell her.  On the flip side, I indicated that I thought dating the same girl for an extended period of time when I had no intentions of marrying her was not something I was interested in doing, and it’s true.  If I weren’t looking for a future bride, I would have fucked a different girl every month like any other alpha PUA would do.

The poor sap who found himself in a disasterous marriage until he started acting like an alpha male toward his wife happens to a great number of men in the past two generations because my parents, the boomers, let feminism happen, and that is telling of their attitudes in general.  I strongly believe the divorce rates in our parents’ generation are a direct result of men sacrificing their balls on the altar of openness and understanding and essentially allowing their girls to dictate to them how they think they want to be treated, thereby sculpting an entire society of men afraid to act like men.  We, the children, have pretty shitty role models.  A lot of divorced men tell their sons not to get married.

Marriage is not a hard trick to pull off as long as wife is a woman and husband is a man.  While I have only been a legally married for a couple of months now, she and I have more or less lived like a married couple for more close to two years, and my experience is nothing like the T.A., the author of the submission.  My wife does cook for me.  My wife wants sex more often than I do.  My wife does not act like a cold heartless bitch.  There are two reasons for this: first, I knew what to look for in a woman who was wife material.  For every sweet, sexy, feminine girl like my wife in the 20-30 age range, there are 5 cold, career-driven psuedo-man unmarriagable bitches out there.  Some of the PUA blogs talk about how to tackle these women but most of them just lament about how much American women suck and flee to 3rd world countries where the culture hasn’t been corrupted by the plague of feminism (except in bars with cover charges, apparently).

In my experience, my natural alpha persona causes girls like this to reflexively throw shit tests at me.  The PUA blogs gave me a word for this: shit testing.  Anyway, if I wanted to be a student of “game” I would focus on how to respond to these shit tests and get past the bitch barrier and into the panties.  It might be fun to sport bang one of these girls whose cores I loathe just so I could roll off them and then start talking Republican politics at them and ask if they’ve ever watched an abortion on an ultrasound machine.  But I was never really interested in that because it got boring by the time I was 20, mostly because it was just too easy.  By the time I was 23, the minute I got shit tested by a woman I just issued a stock look of repulsion – one of my key talents, so I’m told – and walked away.

Pressure to marriage is dubbed by the reader as the ultimate shit test that you must pass.

I would give a different piece of advice: don’t date women who shit test you.

I’m serious.  Obviously there isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t shit test every man she’s with to some degree, but like all things, a shit test is a matter of severity, a truth which can’t be denied in the presence of a so-called queen of shit tests.  But I can’t remember a time when I had to consciously game my wife to slither out of some bullshit emotional trap she laid for me or fast talk my way past an officer of the court.  If a woman shit tests you at introduction or on date one, she’s going to shit test you for your entire life.  In even a small moment of weakness she’ll pounce.

The issue is that women who are prone to this kind of behavior have some bizarre notion that a relationship involves a power struggle.  This is a common theme in Roissy’s writings because most Western women have been innundated their entire lives with talk about “women’s rights” and “equality” as if gender relations can and must necessarily be reduced to stoichiometry, and they extend this perverted thinking to a microcosmic scale of their relationships with their husbands.  A man must prove his worth to his wife constantly; if he fails to do so, then somehow, by default, the woman gains some kind of upperhand in her mind, which leads to the kind of experience the reader had: infrequent, obligatory sex when she wants it only exacerbated by an increase, rather than an equilibrium-preserving decrease of demands on him under the guilt-ridden guise of husbandly obligations.  Only fools let their wives get away with this.

But then again, only fools marry women for which any of the above is true.  I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a certain level of expectation that she and I have for how we treat each other, but we don’t barter the machinations of life like who takes the trash out or how much money we bring home from our jobs against affections or sex because our relationship is not a market economy.

The reason it isn’t is because we let our natural, human autopilot guide our behaviors through nothing other than swimming with the currents of our gender mechanics instead of against them.  I act like a man and she acts like a woman, and we don’t question what that entails.  Nothing is more disasterous than a relationship between two people who think androgyny in both directions will lead to happiness.  If the woman is trying to be more like a man and the man is trying to be more like a woman, you get two interchangeable parts that aren’t balanced by natural forces and instead all kinds of artificial inventions – like the imaginary power balance imposed by bitchy wives with husbands who won’t stand up for themselves – are created to fill the void.

So the reader seems to indicate that he was able to turn his life and his marriage around merely by employing “game” on his own wife.  It isn’t about game, because presumably he isn’t smooth talking his way down her pants (or is he?).  It’s about using the teachings of how to pick up women to instead simply act more like a man instead of a beta chump who let his wife drag him by the balls toward a gender centerline that Sex and the City tells her she should also sit on to find True Happiness.  Acting like a man and “game” are coincidentally exactly the same thing.  I am not tall.  I have been about 20 pounds above the median my entire life.  I do have particularly masculine facial features which helps but I am not dashingly attractive.  But I have never had a problem attracting women significantly more attractive than myself and it’s for no other reason than the fact that I am a natural alpha and I exude testosterone through my pores.  Even girls who, on an intellectual level disagree with every single thing I have said about the world on this blog, have begged me to bone them.  Before my current wife, my previous two girlfriends were flaming, flaming liberals.  One of them was in the Peace Corps, for Christ’s sake.

Had my wife not detected the hint that I was giving her when I told her the story of marriage-discussions-past, my response to her would have been different: “When we are ready to have that discussion I’ll bring it up.”  As it turns out, when we were ready to have that discussion I brought it up, in the form of a marriage proposal.  Keep the ball in your court.

In that vein, I would recommend this: don’t let your future wife shit test you.  If anyone is going to be doing the shit testing, it is going to be you.  You’re the man; you’re in the driver’s seat.  The minute that fails to be true, your relationship – whether it’s dating or marriage – is over.  You won’t be happy and neither will she.

When we exchanged vows, I vowed to “love, honor, and protect” my wife.  She vowed to “love, honor, and obey” me.  This was her idea, not mine.

You want to talk about shit tests?  That’s the shit test you put on her plate.  My advice: if you even suspect that your girl would not make those vows at your behest, don’t marry her.  If, on the other hand, she volunteers, you’ll be happy for the rest of your life.

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