Search Results for 'the+final+plan'

[Anonymous]

Anonymous wrote:

hey gals lets do something new and magical like every f~~~ing living thing on the planet does and reproduce!

Good one! Like I want kids I can’t teach enjoy or touch, then have to watch them be ruined by the thoughtlessness and recklessness of today’s “empowered women”, then after this bag-over-the-head, punch-in-the-face, kick-to-the-b~~~~, out comes the chains, leg irons, and financially lacerating whips as you’re in total agony watching them take away your family and children so they can also be whipped for coming generations.

My country tis of the;

My-country-is-s~~~ty,,,, we-lost-our-liberty,,,, from-thee-I-bleed,,, land-where-father’hood-has-died,,,, land-where-we-tried-and-died,,, from-every-mouth-we-sing,,, NO WEDDING RING…

Dashing Young Dissident wrote:

I wish I could suppress it. I prob need professional help. Cognitive therapy would come in useful. I just fear one day I will do something stupid out of my impulsive rage reflex and f~~~ my life up.

@DYD! Your mind, your chisel, throw down the crutches, pick up the tools, and get to work, no one else but you can “fix” you! Other men have come in here after endless years of psychotherapy only to be jumping up and down screaming with thankfulness that they finally found the CURE!

We’re not here to push your wheelchair, we’re here to get you walk (hopefully run). I guarantee if you insist on being bushed along like a cripple, you’ll be told to get the f~~~ out and stop wasting our time when we can see your enlightenment and know you possess the answers (and you possess the answers, read what you wrote). It’s tough love or tough s~~~, all depends on your effort, keep reading the minds of MGTOW men from every walk of life and social stature, and you’ll be looking at psychologists the same way you do little as little children! We’re the essence of solidarity and independence, we’re the essence of MAN!

Anonymous wrote:

You get that lard-ass land whale teetering toward you and expecting you to yield and jump out of her way. Because vagina. Yes, it’s tempting to do something rash and teach her a lesson.

Hey Two step, use your name to skip out of the way, I look at them like stupid wild animals, I steer or slam the brakes, I maneuver! I don’t want the ramifications of an uncontrollable event, I don’t like washing blood off my life and beating out the dents!

[BadgerParticipant]

I do think you need to be careful how much money you put into 401k.

I agree. At age 70 1/2, you are FORCED to take MANDATORY withdrawals, whether you want to or not. Moreover, if you are in stocks, and the market is down, you are forced to sell at a low price. In addition, when you have a loss, you cannot use it on your taxes. Furthermore, having worked for the Feds, they will change the rules, and probably the tax rate in the future. Finally, YOU do not control your money.

Back to the topic at hand:

Anonymous wrote:

Women will always be dependent on men, thus women will always be developing strategies to exploit men. Irrespective of what is happening in society, whatever women are doing is just a way of exploiting men.

It is their insecurity from that dependency that compels them to exploit and manipulate men. When women tell you they want security, they mean they want a man who has enough money to put HER plan for both of their lives into action.

[Anonymous]

Keymaster wrote:

“My house. My rules.”

…. and it feels terrific.

I told a relative that didn’t like one of my rules that he can do whatever he wants when he buys it.

STORM wrote:

You’re lucky if you can afford a s~~~ty appartment, and the thought of owning your own home is like a tree reaching for sun. When I had first construction company going and after the expense of initially tooling up, the 1987 stock crash happened drying up all the work. There I was with my plans to finally start packing away money for a down payment, my income flat-lined and my hopes and dreams vanished in a pile of dormant construction equipment. I kept persevering after seeing home ownership vanish and get kicked down the seemingly 50 years away! 7 years later I had enough for a down payment but chose to go to bank auctions instead.

Unlike young females, we don’t get 18 years of free child support checks, section 8 housing, food stamps etc. The system hates us.

There’s no free lunch, their day of reckoning is coming as these parasitic systems will be forced to consolidate these females under one giant structure to maintain efficiency, like a prison or a FEMA camp. There’s simply not enough resources to keep these parasites fed, bathed, and warm, they’ve been overloading the system’s ability to compensate.

Have patients and perseverance, old people keep dying and trying to take their horded s~~~ with them, your turn will come.

housing prices have dropped considerably along with value of the dollar, houses are relatively cheap when you save up enough money to buy a distressed property ought-right sometimes 90% off .

I payed 20 gs’ for mine at a bank auction when houses comparable were going for 100+. It needed everything when I bought it, it took 6 years and busting my ass day, night, and weekends, now the place is looking like Mr. Meyoggi’s house from Karate Kid.

While my friends continued to party with their eyes on pussy instead of the future, I was watching the clock go past 2:00 AM while putting in the windows and “thinking” I would have drank this window with my buddies tonight and wake up tomorrow morning with this rough opening still here, puking sick, and shot for half the day! Those kind of thoughts still do go through my mind, it’s me looking at the timeline I would have been on had I not sacrificed my time and efforts to make a better future for myself (GMOW).

[Anonymous]

Keymaster wrote:

For example even if I knew in my gut that something wasn’t really right, I did it anyway to please & appease other people (and women). I KNEW it was wrong, but did it anyway

I have a friend RIGHT NOW I’m pulling all the weeds planted in his head by women regarding his house he’s building and the design expenses added into by his GF and mother, expensive hard to build frivolous trim, roof line cuts and dormers.

He told me what he wanted in the beginning and it made perfect sense, easy and inexpensive to put up and also to make him money live/work.

My persistence and constant antagonizing is beginning to pay off, I kept telling him that he’s the one that’s gonna to have to live with his final decision.

He scrapped the blueprints that were influenced by women and the blue pill drafter, he’s going back to his original plan and lowering the cost by 70% and have the ability to make side money at home, work that sometimes pays more for his weekend than he makes all week.

The ladies came in at three times the price and no place to make money.

Now if I can only convince him of the legal hazards associated with women living in your home and taking it right out from under you with the full force of the law.

Even that’s sinking in, he said he wants to get an apartment first and see if he can stand living with her.

I told him about the gold digger that told me her plan straight to my face, and how that guy lost his house after a very short marriage.

I hope he doesn’t get sabotaged, moving a woman into your home is no different than dragging in a case of old leaking dynamite…

[KeymasterKeymaster]

MGTOWmonkey aka No More Fucks To Give wrote:

Same here,been putting it off for 2 years and finally finished last weekend and got the license 2 days later.

What a coincidence. Gratz! It’s nice to know other to share with. I was on a high for the rest of the day.

Silverstone the Second wrote:

Women in my life tell me not to, and while I admit that there are some dangers in riding, I don’t think they have good intentions.

Women tells you she’s getting married or is now pregnant because she had unprotected sex and they expect congratulations and a “shower” of gifts for that. But actually DO something, learn something knew, get a qualification, learn a skill, build a business over 9 months….. and there is not a woman on the planet who will “congratulate” you for it.

It’s pathetic actually. So f~~~ ’em.

When I became hip to this s~~~, I stopped “congratulating” women for f~~~ing without a condom.

MGTOWmonkey aka No More Fucks To Give wrote:

Ive been on the fence for a while with people in my ear telling me I shouldnt get one because its dangerous

sidecar wrote:

Women in my life tell me not to, and while I admit that there are some dangers in riding, I don’t think they have good intentions.

Yeah, so was building an armada of ships to cross the world’s most tempestuous oceans to find out for all of humanity that the world is ROUND. So was breaking the sound barrier. So was Felix Baumgartner’s balloon jump from outer f~~~ing space. So getting in your car because another one coming from the opposite direction can drive across those painted lines and kill you anytime.

“So it’s dangerous. I’m still waiting for you to make a point. That’s like saying the sky is blue. Did it ever cross the tiny transom of your mind that’s WHY i’m doing it!?? Dummy.”.

Female values:

• “Feelings are more important than FACTS”.
• “Sensitivity is more important than TRUTH”.
• “Commitment is more imopirtant than INDIVIDUALITY”.
• “Safety is more important than FUN”.

Sidecar’s point is bang-on.

Anonymous wrote:

Chicks dont want you ride cause they know chics dig guys that ride.

Another great point.

If you keep doing what you've always done... you're gonna keep getting what you always got.

[KeymasterKeymaster]

Whenever a woman brings up this stupid topic, just blurt out “fried ice” and watch them all start laughing. And WHY? Because they know they are f~~~ed in the head. It’s not even a funny answer. They laugh because it’s TRUE. They know they are hypocrites who change their mind on a dime.

The biggest problem with this question is not the answer. It’s the fact that anyone would even care enough to ask. A man would be more rewarded to care how far a dog can s~~~, really. At least he’ll end up with SOMETHING worthwhile: a little turd he can use as fertilizer to grow a tree.

It actually creates another problem of women thinking they are “complicated” and some kind of bottomless enigma with all this “depth” that needs exploring… when they are just as shallow as a wading pool.

Even worse, they ask this question grouping “women” together as if they ALL want the same thing and the answer is somehow universal. Twice as stupid. If you want to know what ONE woman wants for her birthday, ask her. If she is indirect, doesn’t tell you, doesn’t know, or wants something else after you give it to her…. dump that bitch like an anchor. Immediately. Caring what she wanted was not even worth a thought.

I have had far more success TELLING women what they want.

When my brother and his wife came for a visit, we asked her where she wanted to go for dinner and what she wanted to eat. We actually spent 90 minutes jumping around to 5 restaurants and every time she scanned the menu, she “wasn’t sure” . And she wasn’t even paying! I finally HAD ENOUGH OF THAT S~~~ and took them to a place I like, and TOLD her what she was going to eat.

She couldn’t stop raving about it. Even years later.
That’s why asking women is a waste of f~~~ing time and consideration.

“I want….”

“When I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you.”

bobphilo wrote:

Freud asked this famous question

Freud DIED asking this stupid question… which leads anyone to believe Freud was an IDIOT. (Yes i’m having fun here. Work with me.). The reason Freud asked the question is because he thought it was a man’s responsibility to CARE “what woman want”.

It’s not.

Could you imagine if it were?? One woman wants this. One woman wants that. And then she changes her f~~~ing mind whenever it suits her and you’re still supposed to give a s~~~? Then you become this guy. What a NIGHTMARE.

ALL of his frustration would vanish instantly, the moment he realizes he’s not supposed to give a f~~~ “what women want”. The question “what woman want” is only asked by idiots who think it’s their responsibility to provide it!

Mel Gibson makes a movie about this s~~~ starring Melon C~~~ Helen Hunt, and women everywhere actually believe “what women want” is a legitimate question or concern. Like its a real mystery, magazine topic, TV show and warrants any air time. All it does is falsely elevate their already HUGELY over-inflated egos by misleading women into thinking they are some kind of “mystery” we should all bother trying to figure out. And then you’re expected to give it to them to see if it’s the right thing? And if it’s not, you should keep trying until you get it right?? F~~~ off.

“What women want” is the dumbest question any man ever asked. It’s designed to get men chase their own tails and distract everyone from things that really matter.

What women want doesn’t f~~~ing MATTER. Orville Wright didn’t invent the airplane because of “what women want”. Electricity and fire were not discovered because “what women want”. The wheel wasn’t invented because “what women want”. The minute everyone realizes that, is the minute they can all stop giving a f~~~ “what women want” and concentrate on bigger and much more important things.

….like how far a dog can s~~~.

ANYTHING is more worth your time than caring about “what women want”. Just writing this out was a waste of my f~~~ing time. But I don’t mind, because at least one guy out there will read it. He will stop giving a s~~~ “what women want” and the world will be a better place because of it.

bobphilo wrote:

and men have been struggling to find an answer throughout history

WHY? It’s no mystery. MGTOW already answered it definitively.

Who Cares. Mystery solved. The End.

If you keep doing what you've always done... you're gonna keep getting what you always got.

[Anonymous]

experienced wrote:

Perhaps “key” later down the road is for her to identify your kids as a liability from her selfish point of view.

Yes I did consider this for a while as this mummy monster is very very lazy and selfish. The thing is I have accepted that there is a demented energy within her that is untiring. When she first withheld my kids, It was immediately from the point I ended the relationship. I was lucky that she had no foolish slaves at her beckoning. Not so lucky the second time she withheld, which was when she had gathered the right kind of people around her to entrance, so they could basically look after the children and feed her warped ego. Oh the stories I could tell here about her ‘flying monkeys’. As I said before its a wonder I’m still here. She would rather leave the children with others or even alone than give me an extra minute-literally. For example, my last Birthday was when there was still interim court orders which did not take my spending time with the children on my birthday. As it was, I had to return them at 9am every second Monday. My birthday was a Monday and officially I needed to return them at 9am on my birthday. I asked her if I could have my children still for the day. I suggested 5pm-no-4pm-no-3pm-no-2pm-no.
I texted a final, but not abusive “F~~~ YOU, I’ll see you at 4pm.”
She threatened the cops. I stood my ground and returned them at 4pm but not before I was receiving emails and phone calls from my lawyer. Of course she had told her lawyer that I was refusing to return the children and didn’t know when I was going to. The text thread showed otherwise. So the lawyers had another feed. I got to spend my birthday with my children. They were both unwell. Had been the whole weekend with a cold. So I spent my birthday making them as comfy and happy as possible.
She would have called the cops and they would have said they weren’t interested so in a way she may have learnt that she can do it too and there is nothing the cops will do. One has to be careful to not accidently train them in more evil ways.

experienced wrote:

As they approach eighteen,this’ll be easy, but if she starts considering everything, she might plan to ‘use’ them in her elderly years.

If I manage to get through the next four years and have the week about back again without nastys I will be relieved. At time my brain works overtime, but it has to. Here in Australia once the children turn 12 they can basically ‘vote with their feet’. In other words it doesn’t matter what a judge decides, the kid just runs back to the preferred parent and the cops may come and return the kid but once they have done that a coupdl of times, they aren’t interested. So basically the responsibility of choosing the best place for a 12 year old child can be made by a 12 year old child. Appalling! I know my 2 children will be more mature than the mummy monster before the age of 12. Ideally it would be great if the children are happy living 50/50 with both of us. But my biggest fear is that mummy monster will be the bigger child and bribe the children with enticements such as ‘Daddy makes you go to school?, stay with me and lets have some fun today’. I’m sure you get my drift. I know of a similar mummy monster and her 15 year old has never been to secondary school. The mother blames the kid. I’ve always blamed her but never to her face. The kids a basket case now.
In the way the best outcome will probably be that my children work her out and then choose me, and of course learn to get over the resentment that realising what a f~~~-up mummy is.
Sorry for the rant. If anyone here is interested in the outcome of the medication problem I asked earlier, I called a medical help line. The woman would not be explicit but guided me saying ‘do what you can’. She had to say this about three times before I got it.
So I told her just about the medication issue and after the call I started thinking- I wonder if I had been a woman and had called and gave her the exact same details but reversed, would she have asked ‘do you have any other concerns’. Also I found myself talking in a manner that was ‘asking to be believed’. The shell shock is still strong.

[BoarParticipant]

Russky,

I feel your pain in exquisite detail. I work in a bike shop and I commute by bike. The things I have seen leave my amazed.

I can verify that women are the worst drivers out there. And the most distracted as well. Have to post to facebook all the time otherwise their value declines.

Women are also the most entitled people on the planet be it on a sidewalk or off. They reserve the right to be there, you occupying that space is a privilege. I cannot count the number of times I have encountered a pod of womanetees–thanks Sidecar–blubbering along on a multi-use path and have to divert off the path to get around them.

And finally, women are the laziest creatures on earth. Most, not all, but most of them come into the bike shop to buy the most comfortable, slowest and least-likely-to-break-a-sweat-bike we have. Hell, most of the time they do not even care what bike they get as long as the color is right.

As a side note, are there any alternate routes you could take for your trip? If it includes multi-modal commuting (like taking a bus to a different starting point for your ride) it may not save you time, but it may save the cycling experience.

Untamed wrote: Quit complaining and Go Your Own Way in whatever manner suits you best.

I have been reading and learning here for a long time, finally decided to join so I can perhaps contribute going forward.

My story is sadly a common one. I’m in my 50s now, got married in my 20s, thought it was all about the words the priest had us agree to. We started with very little, and wound up with more than I ever imagined. Two daughters, healthy and the loves, and focus of my life.

I prided myself on rescuing xW from her evil mother. Angriest, most hateful person I had ever met. Actually, the hair-trigger anger seemed to run in that family (red flag missed), but I just figured they were nuts. Not going to let that toxicity impact OUR family, but I was wrong. The daily enmeshment never ceased, but at least I basked in the gratitude for years – “thank God for Twist, or I would have wound up like the rest of my family”. And I would feel good, and skip off with a feeling of accomplishment…

xW would go through periodic bouts of what I then called “level 10 events”, and what I now understand to be dysphoric rage (red flags again…). These would have unknown or trivial “triggers”, and would only end when she reached a cathartic peak where she would then collapse fully spent. Only explanation would be related to something evil MIL had done, no explanation of why it was directed at me, and never an apology. But – it would be over, and I would hope that this was the last time. And, at 105lbs, I was not really threatened by this. How badly can a 105lb woman hurt you????

Almost 2 decades married, she begins an obsessive “BFF” friendship with a toxic woman who made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Alcoholic, druggie husband, psych-challenged kids, and my xW somehow sees nirvana in all this, and gladly brings my daughters (about 9 & 12 then) into this bizarre world. I try expressing my concern, as do others, to no avail. Kids are treated to 365 day circus that I have no clue how to counter (it will get better, they’ll see the light…).

Spiral from bad to worse, no-fault arrives in town, she files for divorce, I have confidence that Court system will see the light, I now understand things like BPD that explain so much, etc. Five judges later, she has moved out with daughters to live in Lesbian community a few blocks from (new) lover, who resides in a series of virtual Hooplehouses.

I spent a fortune on legal fees, am on the hook for child support, and have now seen my daughters for less than 10 hours in the last four years. And nobody seems to f~~~ing care one bit.

To this day, I have never heard a word of honesty regarding xW’s inclinations and intentions. If I had not experienced it, I would never believe this. Never.

So now I understand it – generations of her FOO displayed classic signs of disordered personalities (BPD/NPD), she was severely abused, desperate to revisit her childhood attachment trauma. But none of this helps me – I have lost my family, my children, and there is nothing that I can do about it.

Childress sums it up so well: “A child’s rejection of a normal-range parent is clearly an attachment-related disorder (i.e., a trans-generational transmission of attachment trauma – mediated by the narcissistic/(borderline) personality traits of the allied parent).” But knowing all this won’t do a damn thing for you in the gynocentric world of family/divorce court.

MGTOW brothers. It is for simple survival in this environment. I wish someone had told me – and that I was smart enough to have listened.

Hello and good evening to all the fine people here. I discovered this site a while back and have been reading the posts and MGTOW ideas. I think this site can help me cope with what I am currently going experiencing and with future endeavors. My intro is a little long so I apologize.

I have struggled with dating my entire life. My self-esteem runs from low to medium on most days. I would have thought things would have gotten easier by now but they have not.

I am 37 years old and work retail. It sucks but it’s a living. I make enough to live alone, pay my mortgage and my bills. I live on family estate and it’s pretty nice. I am blessed in several ways.

Recently I made the mistake of dating a co-worker. I never intended for this to happen because I got burned doing something similar years ago but it happened. Late last year I transferred to a new department and met a woman a few years older than me. She was cute and had a good personality. She had a rough background and we come from different worlds. But as time went on I started to like her and she started to like me too. Finally, one night I asked her out and we dated briefly. I ended up terminating the potential relationship over something, now in hindsight, silly. But I also suspected that this relationship couldn’t last and maybe it was best to cut ties now while we could still work and be civil. We never got to have sex (which I have mixed feelings about) but we were attracted to each other and I felt we could have got there at some point.

Not long after I broke it off I started to miss her, partly because I’m still physically attracted to her. Yes, we work together and got along well but it wasn’t the same. I was hesitant to resume things because we work together and if the break-up got ugly we may not be so lucky this time. I still had the idea, however, to rekindle this later when I plan to transfer departments again and maybe work it out. This idea nearly came to a halt a few weeks ago when I discovered and on-off again ex contacted her and she was waffling on what to do. Even though I am the one who broke it off, I began to feel jealous. I was relieved when her situation with the ex fell through. I began thinking maybe it was time to give it another go. But before this could happen I discovered last week that a friend she has known for several years has shown interest in her and she seems to think pretty highly of him. I feel it is only a matter of time before they pursue a romance if it hasn’t happened already.

Despite feeling jealous, I decided to be the bigger man and wish her well in this venture. Even so, I can’t help but to feel jealous and hurt even though she did nothing wrong. I’m tortured with thoughts of them having sex and it makes me want to vomit. The logical part of my brain tells me this is absurd. 1. I broke it off so I must deal with the consequences. 2. I don’t think it would last forever between us. 3. She is not a possession and is full right to move on. I rationalize and acknowledge this but the emotional side is bothering me. I know I’ve got to move on and I want peace but it is tougher than I thought it would be.

I’ve never had that great of luck with women. I’ve dated before her and had a few gf’s but nothing really great. I know I should move on, but the question is what to move on to. Other women with more problems? My track record is full of more disappointments than victories and I don’t know if it is worth continuing that fight. I’m not sure if I’m ready for the red pill yet, but I do find comfort here among men who have had it a lot worse than I. I’m hesitant to trust other women. Despite being poor, this woman never used me for money. I’m not rich or a model to attract 20-somethings when they can have guys their age. As for older women, professional women usually want professional men and it’s hard to find decent looking lower class women without a ton of problems. I feel like I’m at a crossroads on what to do. I’ve been told for years that I will find the right one but the older I get the less I believe it. I’m starting to think it will not happen and if that is the case I might as well choose a path for myself. Some days this does not bother me, but other days fill me with an almost overwhelming sadness.

I realize one of my weaknesses is that I can become easily attached. I believe it is because I seek a connection with someone and my lack of success in the past seems to amplify this.

So my question is this- what was your mental state when you chose the red pill? Were you sad or angry at the time or was it a rational decision free of emotion? What event(s) led you to this choice?

Sorry again for the long post and thank you if you made it this far. I look forward to gaining more wisdom and hopefully the inspiration I need from this site.

So a couple of guys who work in the same building as me asked my advice earlier in the summer (approximately end of June). If it’s not too hot, I sometimes eat outside, people watch and plan my next life steps. Well a couple of young professional guys who looked like they were searching for something somehow gravitated towards me and started talking about how much they hate the dating life in LA. Yes it is bad because Hollywood looks, prices, and fakery dominates this city. I realized not everyone is ready for the red pill, but I thought I would give them basic knowledge starting with the high angled photo shots, AKA the fat girl selfie.

You all have seen it, the selfie taken high in the air, looking down on her, she may have big boobs, etc. Here is what it really means, let me take this visually appealing shot which makes me look thinner, I’ll distract you from my disgusting beer belly with cleavage, and boom you get to pay for a meal. These men told me they had invested in OKstupid accounts, and Snatch.com. I asked them if they actually paid hard earned money for it, and they both shamefully looked at the ground and said yes. I told them all you need is tinder and plentyofsluts. I also shared this wisdom: https://encyclopediadramatica.se/Fat_Girl_Angle_Shot

The problem with these two guys I saw right away, they are too f~~~ing nice. They showed me a few women and I knew right away these women were struggling with their health. They were surprised at my candor when I assessed some of these land whales. Well one of them had a date a couple days ago and he told me I was right. He saw a pretty face, big boobs and a high angled shot. It totally covered her FUPA (fat upper pussy area) her double chin, and the fat girl hump back.

My final advice to these guys, you are young, in shape, and relatively decent looking. Find women in your league, do not be afraid to tell a woman not in your league no. They do it to us. Again, this was not meant to preach MGTOW, but at least this can slow down this insane ego drive of fatties.

If it costs you your peace of mind, then it is too expensive.

[ConstantineParticipant]

It’s all a competition for these idiots. They always have to be the first at everything. A woman has to be the first in her group to get a high-paying job, then she has to be the first to get married, and finally she has to be the first to pop out a pup. They can’t stand being at the back of the pack, even though it shouldn’t be a goddamn race. A child is a life, not a trophy.

I couldn’t count on both hands how many times I’ve heard a guy say, “My GF wants a baby…all of her friends have been having them, so she’s feeling left out.” All I can do is stare at him with a face full of pity.

The idea of not having children seems to be the biggest insult that you can give a woman. Remember in Get Smart when Max and 99 are arguing on the plane? It’s all because Max had implied that if 99 waits too long to have kids, she might never be able to have them – which, I might add, is a scientific fact. Later, when he gets assailed by some of the other passengers, she just f~~~ing sits there out of spite. And afterwards he’s like, “You weren’t much help back there”, to which she responds, “How could I help? I’m just an old bag with a dusty old uterus.”

Nope, nothing petty or childish about that.

To see what is in front of one's nose requires a constant struggle. -Orwell

Hey Everyone,

Broke up my introduction into categories, so you can peruse more easily. Any feedback/input is appreciated.

Myself: Mid twenties white male, 6′ 3″, 200 pounds, kind athletic, engineering degree, worked in the semiconductor industry as a business analyst for 3 years, then left my job and spent the past few months on 2 different startups. One didn’t go so well, the other I’ll be turning into a non-profit. Feels like recent months I’ve stagnated. A negative viewpoint is that I’m living back at home, no job, playing video games and not working out a lot. The other viewpoint is that I’ve learned a tremendous amount about work, startups, philosophy, and what discipline really is (“Discipline = Freedom” is a new saying I’m embodying). I feel like the “failures” I’ve experienced have broken down my mind and heart, and rebuilt them into hardened, stronger defenses. Now it’s about taking the next steps.

Relationships: Haven’t been in one for a few years now. I’m sure it’s a similar story with many guys: deferring and trusting decisions to a girl, not realizing that I was the one who was supposed to lead. Mentally I swing back and forth from wanting to achieve success so I feel “worthy” of that type of attention, to thinking of just following dating advice like “Models.” But recently, I’ve found that seeking approval from someone who isn’t me results in just a blackhole of inadequacy. Also found that most the time the opinion I have is dependent on how recently I’ve jerked off. All in All, looking forward to the future.

Hangups/Challenges: I grew up in a woman dominated household. My mother is a strong “first wave feminism” type of person. From what I know, her parents died in her 20s, she took care of her 2 sisters, worked hard in college, became a marketing vp back when women didn’t do that, made money with stocks and company mergers, and then settled down and had 1 daughter and me. I jokingly say that my sister was the prototype, and I am the final production run. My dad worked in the same company, made his way up to a high level programmer, married, and now works as a manager in a position that I know he doesn’t like. It feels like the typical no-b~~~~ marriage. Mom commands, father obeys. I totally appreciate how they took care of me as a kid, with education, safety, roof over my head, the whole deal. But I look and see their relationship and ask myself “seriously?” My challenge is that I feel this bulls~~~ need to seek validation in my achievements from my mom, who is just another person on this rock in infinite space. It’s led me to inaction, eating crap food, video games, and a general fear-based mentality. The quote about “people only change out of desperation or inspiration” rings true for me. I’m both, inspired to be who I wish to be, fueled by the desperation I felt in the past few months.

Friends: Have a solid set of guy friends now, where we meet up a few times each month to shoot the s~~~, talk about life, play around with hypothetical scenarios, and help each other get some perspective on wtf we are all doing here in this short life. Girls I talk with now are starting to “hit the wall,” and it’s disappointing but the truth. I’ve chatted with girls in other countries (South America, Thailand), and there’s this warmth that I feel doesn’t really exist here in the U.S. Wanted to join this community because it’ll keep me on track with the man I want to become, not the one that society wishes for me to become. Feel that this community can temper the passion I can feel at times for wanting that “connection.”

Next Steps: For me, I have a simple plan, but wanted to get it down in writing online, and find a community of like minded people who are figuring out things (instead of just talking to talk).
Body: 195 pounds, <12% BF, Squatting 315, Benching 215, Deadlifting 405, Tan, Impeccable clothing (for myself, not just for validation).
Hobbies: Get a motorcycle again (CBR1000RR), psychedelics from time to time, Non-Profit helping the homeless, Travel, and develop a great career in analytics.
Friendships: 4-5 Mentors/Advisors in Business, Fitness, and Mental Health. “Show me your friends and I’ll show you your future” is totally true.

Conclusion: I’m joining this community as a way to help detach myself from the “old me,” and rewrite who I wish to become. There’s so much bad advice that I’ve followed into dead-ends. Instead, I’ve decided to create my own advice and see where it leads. Since death is inevitable, I wish to enjoy life as much as I can in this meat bag. Get super fit, get on point mentally (less distractions like gaming or girls), get the toys I want to enjoy (motorcycle, car), and help others climb out of the hole/cycle of external validation.

Looking forward to reading more and listening and sharing.

Best,

Afterburner

But does he swallow it?

Found this article in Australia’s best conservative publication. It’s a case of blue pill logic in it’s purest form.

What is most interesting is that the author clearly sees he is living in blue pill hell, yet keeps doubling down on the blue pills. But then again, this is typical blue pill behaviour.

Margaret Mead took a steam packet to observe the strange habits of Samoans. What I learned of another bizarre culture, that of the well-heeled, inner-city, hip-left crowd required no travel agent or suitcase, just a mad and misplaced love.

It began years ago at a wedding, where I glanced across a candlelit table and spied a woman who wore red and an air of pensive vulnerability that was, for reasons I still cannot fully grasp, immensely appealing to a newly divorced and still-rattled man. I introduced myself and we talked and talked and talked. There was so much we had in common. Extended stints in a foreign city – golly, we’d almost been neighbours! — and neither of us harbouring any lingering affection for that metropolis. A shared love of the alpine bush, plus a pair of very recently broken hearts. By evening’s end I was very nearly in love. No, damn it, that’s not right. When you notice the curve of a woman’s neck and think it’s the most exquisite thing, you’re smitten well and truly.

Let me call her Coral and know that the way we clicked like fasteners on a suitcase still makes my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t long before we were breaking from our workaday desks to dash across town and snatch a few minutes of lunch and kisses, each gripped by a passion so strong that one day, when inspecting a summer house I was thinking of renting, we fell without a word upon a bare mattress and had it. This was love as I had never known it, not even as a teenager, and by that stage I was well into my fifties. Beneath my feet, nothing but air.

There was a problem, though: politics. Know that on my desk there is a bust of Ronald Reagan and that my views run to a libertarian conservatism. Coral was different. In her front window she had placed a large brass peace symbol — a proclamation, as she explained it, of her commitment to love, honesty and tolerance. Global warming, wind turbines, the mortal sin of failing to recycle were likewise articles of her guiding faith. Her friends and circle were of the same stamp and colour, mostly and loudly green. Never before had I encountered such a dense concentration of lockstep likemindedness, nor ever before such intolerance.

The first trouble came at a dinner with a couple who did rather nicely by pumping out glossy guff for the eco-living set. The conversation turned to plans for a deeper shipping channel in Port Phillip, a project which had inspired whale lovers and champions of scallops to mount protests in the courts and on the water. Perhaps fishing for kudos, the male of our dining partners related how he had been out that very morning with a blockading flotilla of surfboards and paddlers, all determined to save the seagrass from Big Dredge. If the channel deepening wasn’t stopped, it seemed a hard rain of blood and toads would not be out of the question.

I took the bait, explained why lowering a strip of sea floor would not prompt the flooding of St Kilda. There were shocked looks and the topic died by immediate, unspoken consent. It was always the way: stating a greenish position was enough in itself. Should that be questioned or confronted with a counter-assertion, there could be no debate. “Don’t provoke my friends with your opinions,” was Coral’s angry admonition as we walked to the car. Ah, my introduction to the speech codes of the inner-city! Noisome flatulence would have been more welcome than my heresies. As I soon learnt, only the irredeemably corrupt and morally wretched dispute “the facts” as their virtuous betters prefer to present them. Funny thing, that: a half-remembered alarum from some ABC eco-shockumentary is “evidence” while primary sources, such as the Climategate emails, are but mischief and propaganda, and quite probably forged to boot.

Our affair continued until it wilted for reasons – full disclosure! — that had much to do with my post-divorce inconsistency, but we stayed in touch every now and then, “remaining friends”, as they say. Then Coral took up with a fellow who crafted outrageously priced mantelpiece ornaments out of spare bits of forest. I thought them irredeemably twee, the modern equivalent of non-ironic flying ducks. She liked them, a chief recommendation being the prices he could get for arrangements of bright and cheerful sticks. The thought that she was with him was a torment. In my heart, as I had always known, I wanted to rekindle what had been and guttered.

Then, months later and out of the blue, a chance reunion in a post office queue led to coffees and a long chat. Something resembling the fires of old began to flare, even as Coral explained that her new swain’s daughter was to be married in Bali and she was to sit beside the bride’s father at the head table.

I expressed a faux happiness for her. Marriage, I asked? My heart sank at the thought she would soon be lost to me, finally and forever. The hollow where shoulder meets throat, those peculiar lips and perfect ears, I wanted in that moment to kiss them all once more and make the calendar run backwards. Something similar was stirring in her breast. As we talked and texted with greater frequency over the next few months, she began to detail where her new partner fell short. He was consumed with guilt for the infidelity that ended his first marriage, she said, could talk only of his “pushy, go-getter” daughter, his wine collection and his shame. Worse than that, he had been financing his wooing with credit cards. I didn’t ask, just assumed, she had been peeking at his bank statements. That thing with money again.

“But your friends find him acceptable,” I ventured, “which is more than they ever thought of me.”

“But it’ll never be what we had,” she said.

Her mother, a retired teacher and veteran lefty, approved of him, and that was no small thing. “A simple footy club kinda bloke” who would never challenge Mum Cheryl’s command of those beloved and selective “facts”. My politics, on the other hand, prompted maternal cautions that Coral risked becoming “a right-winger”. As her mother was ailing and there was a considerable inheritance at issue, these objections probably carried more weight than I realised at the time.

The lines of communication slowly re-opened: emails, phone calls, long snail-mails examining where we had gone so wrong. Just before that year’s Easter, she asked if I wanted to go with her to an “alternative lifestyle” festival, of all places, in southern NSW. I joined her on the sly, her lover led to believe she was with a girlfriend. He would have been much chagrined to know I set up the tent he loaned her and that, as I hammered its pegs, she joked about how neatly it had been packed and folded. “Boring Bob,” as she called him, “would have enjoyed putting it away properly.” We giggled and soon fled the hippies to shack up at a beach house whose keys I borrowed from a mate. It was there she told me she would leave him, that she would die of boredom if she didn’t, and several weeks later she made good on her word.

Instead of accompanying him to Bali, she went with me. I was higher than the plane from Tullamarine to Denpasar.

And so we resumed through stops and starts, though never with the same mad passion as before. My transgressions from our earlier incarnation had bequeathed not-quite-buried resentments. And there was politics again. Alone we were fine, able to speak freely and frankly about everything and anything, but that wasn’t the case when I accompanied her to parties and the like. There could be no rational discussions, not within earshot of her righteous circle.

At her 50th birthday party, she begged me not to come. I did as bid and waited outside to drive her home. At another party, the wag raising the toast made derisive mention of Andrew Bolt, a gag apropos of nothing relevant to the day but which drew an immediate gale of Pavlovian howls. These people applaud on cue, I thought; they applaud to be seen applauding. Very much alone in that crowd, to my ears the laughter sounded more like the bleating of a particularly inbred and extraordinarily self-satisfied flock. As I drifted alone and un-introduced through the throng – Coral always made it a point to abandon me on such occasions – the topics of conversation might have constituted any ABC midday news bulletin: the wickedness of the Coalition, the cruel plight of those in Nauru’s “concentration camp”, the heroism of Julia Gillard, our poor planet’s ongoing degeneration. But I loved Coral, believed there was so much more to her than could be found in any of any of her shallow pals. Love does that, makes excuses most of all.

As to her friends, she kept my profile with them even smaller than before. There was one exception, though, a couple whose acceptance I had earned, or so I suspect, by biting my tongue when they fretted about global warming and, inevitably, the flesh-crawling presence known as Tony Abbott. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice enough people, but entirely of a very predictable kind. He did something lucrative with computers and had recently spent six months on transfer in Europe, were Coral joined them as a third wheel for a jaunt through the south of France. Her delight as I chauffeured her to the airport was that, while a couch might be uncomfortable, only a few days’ accommodation in the month-long trip would come out of her own pocket. Always, that thing with money and personal advantage.

I must admit the month apart was something of a relief, for while I had wanted the relationship to resume with the ardour of before, it had taken a less satisfying tack. It seemed to me – and this is, obviously, an entirely subjective view — that she took markedly less interest in me, my life, work and projects than before. My chief value was as a listener when she poured out her worries, tribulations and, most of all, a slate of insecurities. Her boss (“such a bitch”) sometimes placed her name last on group emails, so did that mean she was out of favour? Her workmates couldn’t be trusted, were probably telling tales to the boss in order to make her look bad. Her employer’s chief client, a large consumer business, wasn’t doing well and what would that mean if the receivers were called in? I held her tight because I loved her — these days she was seldom receptive to more than that – and I cooed that she shouldn’t worry, that she was smart enough to set up shop on her own. One night, when the light caught the colour in her hair, I told her she was beautiful and it was met with an icy stare. Like other frostiness and rejections, it came after a social function at which the embarrassment of being seen with a conservative, judging by her reaction, must have been near unbearable.

That she loved me I didn’t doubt and still don’t. Alone together in the bush or at a weekend cottage, it was the old days reborn. Back in the city, the inner city to be more precise, I was a social liability. When love is not blind it remains myopic, so I shrugged off my doubts and tried harder to be the man I thought she wanted. Landscaping and re-building her backyard, for example, was not so much a chore but an act of repentance for my fecklessness of years earlier. What the heck, eh? I could use the physical exercise. It was a happy fool’s serenade to the accompaniment of spade and sledgehammer.

Then came the dinner party that ended it all, the Night of the Disastrous Ducks.

The evening began well and continued on that path for some time, all cheerful chatter and inconsequential gossip, much of it, once again, about people not present and their money, trips, whatever. He – let me call him Sprocket – was a mad cyclist and regaled us over my canard l’orange with tales of kilometres covered, plus his purchase of yet another remarkably expensive bicycle. He told us that he now had nine of them and made that revelation with the mock-apologetic air of a dipsomaniac presenting his inability to pass an open bottle as an endearing weakness. I smiled as the cost of the machines was detailed. More money talk. Yawn. Perhaps it was my imagination but it seemed his wife was gloating just a bit as the details of wealth and conspicuous consumption unfolded. “She didn’t get to have kids but she got the life she wanted,” Coral had said of her old classmate, whose pedalling partner already had a couple from a previous marriage. “She was always going to get to the money somehow.”

And there the night might have ended had it not been for a random mention of TV’s Waleed Aly, whom both our guests agreed was just the most wonderful man. Maybe my restraint was loosened by the impish thought that two people who could decry inequality in one breath and boast of a five-figure bicycle shed in the next would benefit from a gentle goosing. Or perhaps it was the wine. Most likely it was both.

I noted that Aly had written of Islamic terrorism as being no worse than “a perpetual irritant” and could always be expected, after every latest massacre, to emit a stream of pious pablum. Straight away, sure as night follows day, came the rote and instant accusation of Islamophobia. A suspicion of Islam, I countered, was no groundless fear but the logical response to repeated attacks by the more ardent adherents of a political order presenting itself as a religion.

Things escalated, the exchange staying barely this side of civil.

How could a modern woman of the civilised West defend a creed that has misogyny woven into its very fabric, I wanted to know, especially a woman who loudly despised Abbott for the same alleged offence?

Muslims were no different to Italian migrants of the Sixties, who were said by the bigots of yore to carry knives, but just look at what good people those Italians are these days! Muslims would follow the same route and were doing so already, she continued, again citing Aly as the example that made her case.

“Perhaps they did have knives,” I countered, “but they weren’t used to genitally mutilate their daughters.”

Hasty farewells followed in short order. I turned to plant a kiss on Coral when the door shut behind our departing guests, but she retreated and half-hid her face behind the collar of her cardigan so that I couldn’t see the words forming — the few short syllables that ended it there and then, whatever it was we had. Basically, it boiled down to this: she couldn’t share her life with someone like me. Her timing said the rest: the esteem of her friends was valued far more than a lover from the wrong side of the political aisle. I stormed out in a huff and we haven’t seen each other since, although an exchange of text messages clarified the sticking point: “Your opinions!” she wrote in screaming block letters. Oh, and my interest in Australian Rules, too, which is apparently a decidedly bogan passion.

Since then, the old beau has returned and no surprise. He’s come into money, as she told me with approval some months earlier while swapping pillow talk of old loves and lovers. Plus, he’s good with tools and her house needs a new verandah to shade that peace symbol in the front window. I just hoped she washed the dressing gown I left at her place before re-gifting it. I might have left some opinions in the pocket and they could be contagious. Wouldn’t want another love affair ruined.

Bill Wyndham lives in Victoria. All names and identifying details in this memoir have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty

http://quadrant.org.au

[The Manipulated ManParticipant]

Hey Jough,

Congratulations on finding MGTOW and creating a fine Introduction.

Cheers to the MGTOWs who wrote the replies. Those replies are all excellent.

I nominate this introduction thread as a candidate to be placed as a “sticky” which will help many men.

Jough, I have been where you are at now.

Since you are working with MGTOW, your life will get better, especially when you can accelerate your learning curve and avoid making the same mistakes.

RegularJough wrote:

Any tips?

Try to absorb everything MGTOWs are telling you.

Keep reading the Forums and the Archives.

The Introduction section of the MGTOW forums is filled with men just like you who are asking the same questions.

Most of the thoughtful replies by other MGTOWs in those Introductions are brilliant.

Here is an example of an excellent reply that was given to a man who posted his introduction, “New to MGTOW today,” just before your post:

Badger wrote:

Esther Vilar’s book saved me so that recommendation to read it is very good. A similar book by a Nigerian author in England is The Anatomy of Female Power. Both are online at:

Esther Vilar
The Manipulated Man
https://dontmarry.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/the_manipulated_man.pdf

Chinweizu
The Anatomy of Female Power
http://therawness.com/AFP.pdf

You will find the members here are very experienced and sharing information is invaluable. I have only been on site for a few months, and despite being over 70 years old, I have learned a lot of explanations for the female behavior I had experienced or seen in the past. Prior to MGTOW, you had to have been lucky to have had any married men really warn you about the perils of marriage. Now the married and divorced men are finally getting to tell their stories here. So listen to them. They will keep you out of trouble.

RegularJough wrote:

Is MGTOW a serious solution, or just a compromise?

Having serenity as a direct result of MGTOW allows me to fully enjoy peace and tranquility.
Now watching a sunset is amazing.
Going for a walk at sunrise is miraculous.
Having a moment to watch the birdies is wonderful.
Now I am never “bored.”

In hind sight, my relations~~~s with women was an addiction which ruined my inborn Serenity. This addiction has the same chemical characteristics on the body as using heroin.

Also, the influences of women compelled me to do things that were not in my best interests even though I believed them to be “exciting” activities, whenever I was temporarily away from women.

RegularJough wrote:

Yesterday was a bad day for me, I felt really low

RegularJough wrote:

How do I reconcile the part of my brain that makes me want women?? Even if I know they are 99% trouble, how do I keep myself in check? This almost seems harder than being married!

You can expect a “crash” every time you are cut off from your addiction. Temporarily finding another woman to f~~~ is just a “hair of the dog” fix. It will only keep you addicted.

Removing Blue and Purple Pill indoctrination is like peeling layers off of an onion. It takes time to unlearn bad habits and to understand how to live as a free man.

I hope you are able to make better choices than me and move past addiction to reclaim your natural instincts and essential Serenity.

What happens when a man finally comprehends the cold and calculating thoughts that are going through a woman's mind, while her eyes are brimming with tears?

[RegularJoughParticipant]

Oh, MG, you are correct.

I found out about MGTOW through reading all about the topics you brought up, during my first round of seperation.

Using much of what I read here, I became immune to her ways during the final two years of marriage. It drove her crazy. Really, I wish you could have seen how well I handled it all. From reading here, I KNEW she would find a way to blame me for HER throwing me out, and she did. Said that if I didn’t come back, I was destroying the marriage. Thanks MGTOW, had I not anticipated that, I would have been pretty upset.

MGTOW got me to where I am right now. I had my potential escape plan in place, I had no worries and nothing caught me off guard. The morning I got tossed, I was right in the middle of coffee and Call of Duty. She wanted me gone, so I grabbed my pre packed bag, my fishing poles and metal detector and kissed the kids and left.

But now…. I’m approaching a time line where I’m getting uncomfortable again. I never liked being alone and I suck bad at keeping myself occupied. I mean, damn, I hand washed my kitchen floor the other day. Yeah, it’s clean now, but chores can’t keep me going.

Sky diving and oil painting and lifting weights feels like a stop-gap to something else.

I know, I haven’t walked this path before, I know most of you are much further into this than me, but I have to ask, how do you feel about this choice? Is MGTOW a serious solution, or just a compromise?

Shit tested, Brother approved.

[BadgerParticipant]

Welcome, Gerald. We are all glad to see another man who has seen the light!

Esther Vilar’s book saved me so that recommendation to read it is very good. A similar book by a Nigerian author in England is The Anatomy of Female Power. Both are online at:

Esther Vilar
The Manipulated Man
https://dontmarry.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/the_manipulated_man.pdf

Chinweizu
The Anatomy of Female Power
http://therawness.com/AFP.pdf

You will find the members here are very experienced and sharing information is invaluable. I have only been on site for a few months, and despite being over 70 years old, I have learned a lot of explanations for the female behavior I had experienced or seen in the past. Prior to MGTOW, you had to have been lucky to have had any married men really warn you about the perils of marriage. Now the married and divorced men are finally getting to tell their stories here. So listen to them. They will keep you out of trouble.

[Anonymous]

You’re thinking in peanuts when it comes to real wealth transfer from men to women through the powers of gynoverment through it’s injustice systems.

How many men were made homeless in an instant?

How many men were extracted by a lawyer, then ordered to pay for the family promised to him in the contract of marriage but delivering him to forced isolation under the threat of imprisonment if his employment status should unfortunately change.

Men are chastised ridiculed and slandered with such abusive labels as DEAD BEAT DAD from the same society that criminalized, imprisoned and further abused him for loosing his job under all the stress and above stated HORRORS!

Oh, let’s not forget pampered little princess! What’s her punishment for destroying this family?

Single mother glorification from society telling her how strong and independent she is! All the while receiving further extracted $bucks for livable housing, heat, and food on her plate.

Meanwhile, back at camp f~~~-me-in-the-ass, the man in this UNEQUAL equation is jumping through hoops and loops to get out before he steps on a prison landmine and is further incarcerated, with some of these men spending the rest of their natural born lives imprisoned because they did what they had to do, or it would have been done to them.

Women are achieving higher education at a rate of 6 women to every 4 men, and women are still counted as minorities and given the benefits of affirmative action.

I’ve been exposed like all men to this endless onslaught of feminism! My exposure started by the time I could walk. All my life terabytes of negative recorded algarhythms from women shouted at men, think about the effect that has on your deep subconscious? Men have been trained by society to s~~~ all over men and give women a license to s~~~ at will without one single repercussion, in fact they’re patted on the back and handed a man’s stolen wages to wipe her filthy ass!

The MGTOW mindset turns all of feminism’s radiation into a particle beam aimed at your core turning you into MANRTONIUM! 240!

I/we (you guys too) burned a f~~~ing hole straight through the heart of feminism!

20/30 years of men’s rights organizations? AVFM, every capitulation under the sun!

And who plants the grenade deep in the belly of feminism? That right! WE DO! Pull that f~~~ing pin and walk the f~~~ away!

MGTOW is the only bastion of freedom where the tattered remains of freedom can be seen blowing in the wind!

They turned a man’s world into a dark and dismal place! They get the mansion and we get the dungeon! Those are the “rules”.

Hey you guys, look at that yellow flicker in the tree tops, wanna know what it is and where we are?

We’re in MGTOW forest and that yellow flicker is the entire castle with it’s towers, palace, and dungeon burning down! The impenetrable walls are acting like an oven keeping the flames within!

Finally (but too late) princess thinks she smells smoke!

Life in MGTOW forest is far enough away from the smoke and flames!

Last time I looked I saw smoke pouring from AVFM,s windows! MRA’s too!

[Deadly RaverParticipant]

Jan Sobieski wrote:

Old BIll said,

Feminism is about putting maximum control on male sexuality, while letting female sexuality run wild (paraphrase).

They think if they control porn, men will go back to the plantation, and become slaves.

That just might be the move that will finally make men go back to the plantation.

………………..And burn it down.

Learn from the past, Control the present, and you will know the Future.

[sidecarParticipant]

Subtilitas wrote:

That’s a good point. Maybe you could specify? Having had predominantly female friends, I know they talk a lot about sex, men and what arouses them in which way, but I have got also the impression that women do not get horny at least in that regard as their arousal doesn’t come as strong and in such a rush as it does in men. Do you really think they’re just concealing it better?

It’s a lot easier to hide a damp vagina than an erect penis, especially in this day and age of perfumes and deodorants and smoke and whatnot.

I’ve covered this before here, and yes, women are by and large far far hornier than men.

It’s a direct result of our biology. Each woman has from birth only a very limited supply of eggs, and those eggs have a definite expiration date. Worse for her, the abnormally long time between conception and weaning in humans further severely limits her opportunities for reproduction. Humans almost exclusively have only a single child per pregnancy. More than two is almost unheard of without modern medical intervention. Add to that the fact that before the last hundred years or so without our modern medicine and nutrition most pregnancies resulted in miscarriages and still births. Then there’s the high infant and child mortality that we used to have.

This all adds up to make a woman’s opportunities to reproduce her genome extremely limited compared to other mammals. So the selective pressure for pro-reproductive behaviors in women was extreme. This is one of the reasons for the hypersexuality of humans compared to other mammals, especially in women. The genes that didn’t encourage women to get out and f~~~ at every opportunity rapidly lost out in evolutionary competition to genes that do.

Meanwhile men have it a lot easier. Each man produces enough sperm every day to repopulate the planet. And he will continue being able to do this throughout his life. This means men are capable of spreading their seed as widely as possible, but it also means men have time. Men have opportunity to concentrate on things other than reproduction. So men do. Men enjoy sex, but they have a significantly lower opportunity cost of missing out on sex than women.

Then there are other complications like the extremely long childhoods of humans and the enormous cost in resources necessary to raise each generation. This expense has resulted in the natural division of reproductive responsibilities between men and women. Women have the monopoly on breeding, while men, thanks to their infinite reproductive capacity, have the lock on resource generation. Put bluntly, women are breeders and men are providers. Both are equally necessary to raising children into adults to keep the cycle going.

Those roles are deeply burned into our brains by a couple million years of natural selection. And you can observe this in humans if you observe them closely enough. You’ve already noticed this yourself how women talk so much about sex. It goes beyond even that, though. Listen to the other things women talk about as well. They talk about clothes – for attracting partners and competing with other females for partners. They talk about shoes – same reason. Also make-up – again for the same reason. They gossip about celebrities – who is and is not f~~~ing who. They talk about relationships – their own and other people’s – basically who is and is not f~~~ing who among people they know. And they talk about men.

The common thing to all these topics is they all boil down to reproduction and therefore sex. Which shouldn’t be surprising given their evolved role as breeders; you would expect them to obsess about it.

Now compare that to what men talk about. Women. Cars. Tools. Sports. Work. Apart from the subject of women it should be obvious that these topics all relate in some way to demonstrating, enhancing, testing, or describing their ability as providers. because that’s what men evolved to be: providers and protectors.

When you finally realize just how much of our supposedly modern behavior is dominated by our evolutionary past it’s either very interesting or very creepy. Or both.

But it definitely explains why women are far more obsessed with sex than men.

It also explains a whole lot of other things as well, such as why men are capable of handling rejection and women simply aren’t, because of their different opportunity costs. And a lot else besides.

There’s a lot more to it than just this. This is merely a shallow outline of the biology of human reproduction and its consequences. I barely even touched on the economics of human reproduction, but there’s a limit to what I want to type in one night.