Henry Kissinger was asked what his job really was, what did it mean to be a “consultant” to the ruling class. Kissinger said his job was simple, he took the needs and interests of his clients, and articulated those needs and interests into an agenda that could be enacted.
Read it twice, it is a bit more subtle than it might appear on the surface.
I’ve always thought of myself as a natural negotiator. I was always the guy stopping fights and arguments, always the referee making sure people played fair. I like to think I have a fairly high level of emotional intelligence and I have an overabundance of empathy. Some of the women commenters are probably rolling their eyes, but if I sound like some mean misogynist online, trust me, in real life I’m considered quite charming.
So once, Ryu claimed that I was “the best White Nationalist Pick-Up Artist in history.” It’s always hard to tell exactly how to take Ryu, but I’m just going to take it mostly at face value, and as an obvious backhanded compliment.
Now, being that I am a guy, I implicitly understand “the men’s side” when it comes to the battle of the sexes, but the fact I have an overabundance of empathy and have been so “successful” with women shows I must have a sort of intuitive understanding of the other side as well. So, in a sense, it makes me a kind of objective observer, or at the least, a judge or a referee that may not be completely impartial, but at least can look at both sides. And like Kissinger, I am going to attempt to take the needs and interests of both sides and articulate that into an actionable agenda for my clients – white men and women of childbearing years.
If you are a woman that is not having kids, or any more kids, and are not interested in what your kids are doing reproductive wise, this isn’t directed towards you. Don’t read any further. If you are a man that has no interest in ever having kids, a “Man Going Their Own Way” or a player that got a vasectomy or something, or if you’re already a father and aren’t interested in more kids – go away. This isn’t for you.
On the other hand, if you’re a young white man or a young white woman, I can honest to God help with this problem, because it is sort of my specialty, in a sense.
So, in the last installment, I told the story of two girls, one that I just wanted to bang, and one that I just wanted to marry. So what is the difference? The other part of the previous installment discussed the technological advance of birth control, and how that sparked the Sexual Revolution, collapsed white fertility, and changed the previous cultural institutions that regulated the relations between men and women.
So, first, let’s look at sex. Why the hell would Amy, the 15 year old girl, want to have sex with a 16 year old hipster? Why would Amy be so easy, at such a young age, for a guy that was clearly only using her for sex?
The obvious answer is that Amy thought I was a “bad boy.” You see, I was the kind of guy you bang, but not the guy you marry. The manosphere types call this being the “alpha fucks” not the “beta bucks” and it’s clear by that terminology alone that they are more interested in being the “alpha fucks” rather than the “beta bucks.”
However – what made me the “bad boy” was not that she just wanted to fuck me, but would marry a “better” guy, it’s that she knew full well that I would never take her seriously, that I was, in a real sense, “out of her league.” When I did start to “take her seriously” and when I did start to develop some romantic feelings about her – she dried up, quick like, and moved on. When I was just using her for sex, I was a hot sexy bad boy. When I started to take her somewhat seriously, I lost a lot of the sexual appeal, because there was a possibility that I would settle for a girl like her. For no other reason that I was getting laid on a regular basis, I started to have feelings for Amy.
Amy knew perfectly well that I was “out of her league” when it came to something that, at the time, I didn’t have a clue about. And it’s also why I had that urge to “save Shannon for marriage.”
It was a combination of sexual maturity and social class.
You see, Amy was kind of trashy. Her parents were divorced, her father was an alcoholic, her older brother had been arrested several times, and her mother didn’t have any college education. I came from a solidly middle class family, intact, church goers, both parents college educated.
And Shannon was even one class above me; her parents were also married, college educated, church goers, but lived in a nicer neighborhood and her dad made more money than my dad. Her mother was more “sophisticated” socially than my mother.
And, while Amy was likely at her very sexiest, and her best looking, at 15-19, Shannon – although by anyone’s standard a very attractive 16 year old girl – really hit her strike in her mid 20s. When I saw her the very last time, when she was about 24 – wearing this little black dress – yeah, my eyes popped out of my head. I immediately thought to myself – how the hell did I let that one get away?
The last time I saw Amy, when she was about 25, she had horrific tattoos, a nose ring, a fucked up haircut, and worked as a stripper.
So at the time, even though I really didn’t have any conscious understanding of this, I was at least subconsciously aware of the “status” game and did what all men have done, throughout history. I used the girls beneath me in class as concubines, and the girls equal or above me in class as potential wives, or “official girlfriends” the kind you might introduce to your family.
But, you see, there’s another sort of paradox here.
The hottest sex is often the kind where there is more social distance between the two people. That’s why women will turn into instant sluts for a Hollywood celebrity. Sort of like how electricity works, the more potential difference there is, the greater the current. And sex with Amy was super hot because she was fucking me because of my status, as a slightly better looking, smarter, more popular, more educated guy than she could “keep” as a boyfriend. She knew that if she was just a super-slut, she could land me temporarily at least, and have bragging rights. It’s really no overstatement to say that Amy “serviced” me sexually.
And the second I turned even slightly “beta” – the second I showed the slightest bit of feelings for a lower class slut like her, the second the heat went away. A year or so after we stopped fucking, she went and fucked – only one time – a friend of ours that looked kind of like me, but he was slightly better looking, slightly taller, slightly more popular, slightly more masculine.
Amy admitted to me, she always wanted to fuck that guy, and she got to fuck him just one weekend, and all she did was pleasure him, but she got what she wanted and was quite happy that she did.
I, of course, took rigorous precautions with Amy, and I always used a condom when I ejaculated in her vagina. But it was usually more fun – for both of us – for me to ejaculate in her mouth. Because that’s where the power exchange came into play. That’s the kind of birth control you used before the era of BC pills and condoms, right?
Before BC pills, before condoms, and before Roe vs. Wade, neither Amy nor I would have risked some affair, because she might have wound up a single mother and I might have wound up with a bastard kid. But now that sex was decoupled from reproduction – and now that the Sexual Revolution had loosened the standards of acceptable sexual conduct, we were able to slut in up all through high school, with nary a worry about an unplanned pregnancy. In the case it ever happened, we had a highly visible group of upper class, educated women that ran Planned Parenthood and existed precisely to make sure that girls like Amy didn’t actually reproduce.
Now, while Shannon did have sex, she just wasn’t as slutty as Amy. She was a lot more selective and didn’t want to just “service” some guy. She wanted to be an official girlfriend to someone. She wanted some romance. She wanted some status. And – in the era before birth control – I would have lined up to marry Shannon because I could only get sex from one girl – my wife – and it would result in children.
But, of course, Shannon – being a smart, ambitious woman who did not want to be a teenager mother, didn’t really want to settle down or have children until at least the age of 22, maybe even 25.
Well, in the meantime – in the first DECADE of Shannon’s sexual maturity, at the height of Shannon’s beauty and fertility – from 15-25 – Shannon was hoping to get romance and sex from a few different boys until she picked the best one and got married.
But, you know, what really happened was while sex with Shannon was reward enough for the guys she wanted, the guys she wanted – being naturally polygamous – already had access to a whole, lower strata of girls quite willing to be sex toys. It didn’t matter for the boys, because neither Amy nor Shannon were interested in settling down and having children. Girls just wanna have fun, and now thanks to birth control, the boys and girls could.
So, when choosing between different girls – since family formation was off the table – it became, you know, which girl sucked dick better.
I actually don’t think that’s what Planned Parenthood and the Birth Control movement had in mind.
But consider this saying from the Necronomicon:
“Each Thing Evokes Its Opposite.”
Fuck, Marry, Kill is a party game in which the participant is presented with the names of three individuals, each of whom he or she must choose to kill, ask to marry or have sex with.