Warning: hamster on steroids

A Reader was browsing the MGTOW boards and found an example of the nonsense inside empowered women’s skulls. This is a 58-year-old, a grandmother, writing in Salon:

Some people my age — extreme middle-age —

What a great start: grandmother, almost 60, but sure let’s call it middle age. Let’s ignore the difference between how men age and how women age, too. After all, we’re all the same, biologically, aren’t we? What’s half a chromosome between friends?

train for marathons, or paddle down the Amazon, skydive, or adopt. They publish for the first time. Me? I may have done the most heroic thing of all. I went on Match.com for a year.

A Reader got through college on a track scholarship (and working part-time repairing appliances), so when people talk about “running” marathons in 5 or 6 hours he can barely keep a straight face. And these people who start “running” marathons in their old age are usually idiots: it’s the new thing, and they are all herd-followers, to the last one. Think “different” as long as your “different” is exactly the same as everyone else’s.

Still, running, skydiving, or kayaking need effort and/or skill. Apparently joining Match.com is all she could do, and in her mind that’s more heroic than any of the activities that actually require effort and/or skill. Typical.

I rarely missed sex: I had tiny boundary issues in all those years of drinking, and by my early 20s I had used up my lifelong allotment.

Another carousel-rider wants a chump to settle with. Only, about 28 years later than usual. For some reason women don’t understand that men may want to sleep with the sluts — though in this time of antibiotic-resistant STDs men are starting to rethink their choices, slut-wise — but they don’t want to settle with one.

I have spent approximately 1,736 hours of this one precious life waiting for the man to finish [sex], and pretending that felt good. And I want a refund.

My my my, a frigid woman faking orgasms, in this day and age. I’m sure that will work out well for her victims dates.

In four-fifths of [marriages she knows of], the men want to have sex way more often than the women do. I would say almost none of the women would care if they ever got laid again, even when they are in good marriages.

Perhaps she is projecting from her own sexual inadequacies, but there’s no doubt that men seem to want it more than women.

[Women] do it because it makes the men like them more, and feel close for a while, but mostly women love it because they get to check it off their to-do lists. It means they get a pass for a week or two, or a month.

The sex lives of married people, clearly worth giving up your bachelor freedom for. Consider the trade-off: you give up your freedom to do whatever you want in your own time and with your own money, become financially liable for someone else, and in return you get the same one half-hearted vanilla bump a week, a fortnight, or a month. (Close your eyes and think of Alexis Texas doing Belladonna.) Really, that’s what she’s saying.

(I know, I know, there’s that whole “love” part of the relationship too. And if you buy that, A Reader has some shares in the Brooklyn Bridge he’s selling at a great price.)

And the women are not crazy about the men’s secret Internet porn lives.

Yes… It’s unsurprising that they wouldn’t want to compete against a medium servicing all possible fantasies, with hot young (of legal age) women excited about satisfying a man’s every possible desire. Just like the guy in the corner store with tiny selection of overpriced merchandize doesn’t like Amazon.com.

A 60-year-old man does not fantasize about a 60-year-old woman. A 70-year-old man might. And an 80-year-old — ooh-la-la.

A 60-year-old man, a 70-year-old man, a 80-year-old man, and a 90-year-old man, all fantasize about two or more young (of legal age) women, perhaps a trio of 21-year-old petite thai masseuses who appreciate an experienced man. Fetishists aside, no healthy man fantasizes about 60-year old women. Do people who fantasize about being great athletes fantasize about getting bronze medals? No. It’s a fantasy, you always get the gold and break the world record.

People are damaged and needy and narcissistic. I sure am.

She’s certainly damaged to the point of demented.

Richmond San Rafael Bridge

Ok, she’s one of those nuts from Frisco. A Reader has visited the area several times for work, and his assessment is that people there are generally nuts and women over 30 are totally bananas. Very fruity city.

It’s a pity, because when A Reader was a kid, California was a great state, full of future promise, with the aerospace and electronics industries, but sometime in the 70s it went down the drain.

Apparently she managed to go out with a “highly cultured, a creative venture capitalist,” who seemed to know a little game because he didn’t call her back for five days. A Reader is guessing the guy wasn’t going to call at all. She obviously did the female thing and complained about it:

My friends were great. They turned on the man immediately.

Yeah… that really makes her sound like the kind of gal a man wants a relationship with; controlling, bitchy, and with a greek chorus of friends to tell her she’s always right.

Then I met a man who was as far to the left as I am, in the weeks before the presidential election! Heaven. He was English also.

Go be lefty in your country, limey. There’s plenty of Americans who attack the foundations on which this country was built, we don’t need to import others. That goes for you too, Piers Morgan, Daily Kos, and Arianna Huffington. A Reader has nothing against foreigners, but even if you naturalize, can you please wait a generation before you start attacking our country? There are plenty of people around the world who would love to come live here and defend the principles that made this country great. A Reader would trade all the Friscans and other assorted California libertards for these people, and then it might be a great state again.

(Full disclosure: A Reader voted for Reagan both times.)

Back to the article:

We both wanted mates. But then I got it, that my horrible friends were right, and he didn’t feel physical with me.

Someone posted her photo to a discussion board. There isn’t enough Kentucky firewater in the world to make A Reader “feel physical” with her. In fact, after seeing that photo, the idea of a man having sex with her made A Reader lose his appetite for dinner.

She plays a few more mind games and comes up snake eyes, but handles it well:

After four days of silence, I wrote to say that I guessed it wasn’t going to happen. He wrote back that yes, this was probably true; it had felt friendly but not romantic. Now he is my mortal enemy.

Ah, just kidding, she can’t take rejection like a grown-up; but at least the guy didn’t get a false rape accusation or a VAWA-sanctioned psychological violence assault charge.

Did she learn from her experience, at least?

To have gone out so many times took almost everything I had, and then I didn’t even meet the right man. You start to wonder if there’s something wrong with you.   Nah.

No, it’s the rest of the world that’s wrong: all the men, all of western civilization, all of biology, and even the least deluded of her friends. It’s the female version of Occam’s razor: the right answer is the one that makes the woman’s self esteem the highest. The delusions of these empowered women really are the best reason to go your own way.

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