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I’m not innately a misogynist, but I think most American women are seriously defective, for probably cultural reasons. I’m going to establish one of the reasons why in this post. Let’s look at an OkCupid study that has recieved a lot of attention: Your Looks and Your Inbox. Not surprisingly, it shows that women are focused as strongly on appearance as men are. Surprise? Not really. Cause for moral outrage? No. Everyone knows that looks are a substantial component of the dating process, and most of us accept this. Thankfully, not everyone’s appraisal of attractiveness is the same. A few of us are attractive to most people; most of us are attractive to some people. Given enough tries, we find one that likes us; life goes on. The real shocker is this: women on OkCupid have rated 80% of the men as unattractive, including four demonstrably average-looking men (OkCupid staff). It’s quite possible that this reflects only on the women who chose to give ratings– e.g. that bitchy women rate men, the rest don’t. However, although it is far from a scientific analysis, this publication contradicts much of what society prefers to believe about women: that they are kind, less shallow than men, and relatively accepting of the average man’s appearance.

The average man, based on the histogram, appears to have been rated at about 1.4 stars (out of 5) by women. That’s a D, on an A-F scale. Let me explain just how bad that is. A general rule in survey design is that ratings of anything will be inflated compared to the respondent’s actual opinion. If 100 viewers watch a television show and their ratings of it average 3.7 stars, on a 1-to-5 scale, that’s not a “good” rating. The show sucked! The same goes for performance reviews. A ubiquitious constant in such surveys is the “real average” of 4.3– a product rated below this by the public, on a 1-5 scale, is generally below-average. (Expert raters and critics are more conservative in their grading; a 3-star film, according to Ebert, is not being rated as mediocre.) And what is the average GPA at Ivy League colleges (where there are few poor students who must be given failing grades)? It’s about 3.3. It’s the same principle.

People seem to be much more candid when rating the physical attractiveness of strangers, so this rating inflation may not apply, but I’d still contend that a luke-warm rating– say, 3 stars– is not a good sign. In any case, the graph of male ratings of women shows absolutely no inflation. The distribution of attractiveness ratings seems to show a symmetric, bell-shaped curve. This is what we’d expect, and I posted on this matter in October. An average woman is sexually attractive to about 45% of men; an 85th-percentile woman is physically acceptable for about 71%, and a 15th-percentile woman is acceptable to about 23 percent. It’s fairly close to a normal distribution. For men, the story is different, and for those who lack the skills to project sociosexual confidence (e.g. “Game”), quite dismal.

Now consider the distribution of attractiveness ratings given by women to men on OkCupid, which exhibits severe skew in the fugly direction. Of seven categories, a quarter of men fall into the “least attractive” category, while almost none fall into the “most attractive” category. The median male is generally given terrible ratings, with only a few men in the thin rightward tail rated well. This occurred, one should note, in an environment of passive rating, where “Game” is almost certainly not a major factor. It’s likely, then, that these men were rated under the assumption that they have average (e.g. almost none) game.

Men on online dating sites are assumed to have poor game, and to be single, two severe attraction killers. As defined in my October analysis, a man with “7” looks (84th percentile) and “4” game (43rd percentile) is sexually attractive to only 2.7% of women. Of course, posting to an online dating site is suggestive of weak game, to the extent that this trait is tacitly assumed by most women. This, in my opinion, explains why the men were rated so badly– and, yes, 1.4 stars is not merely below-average, but abysmal, keeping in mind what I said about rating inflation. I would argue that the cutoff for a “good” average is probably in the mid-3 range (this is someone who is substantially attractive to a few women). Yet less than 10% of men are rated so highly.

What is “game”, again? I defined it as sociosexual confidence, but its root is preselection. Men with “game” are those who adopt the mannerisms of the sexually experienced and somewhat callous. They’ve adopting a set of behaviors to suggest preselection. Registering on an online dating site has the opposite effect– it indicates that a man is single, and eager enough in his search for a partner to invest time in an online profile.

Single men are really in a sandtrap– assumed, because they are unattached, to be awkward, unattractive, and undesirable. It’s inconsistent with the norms of the rest of society; for example, an unemployed man is expected to look for work– that’s normal, and people worry about him if he doesn’t– and yet a single man has absolutely no way of maintaining face while looking, even very casually, for a girlfriend. Simply put, he shouldn’t search. No paying for a stranger to have a nice dinner, no online profiles, no face lighting up when introduced to a pretty girl at a party– none of these can do a man any good.

This all comes down to preselection– women want what is not available to them. Fuck it. I agree with others who’ve called it “the root of all evil”, and it’s a trait that I advocate forcing out of the human species through any means possible– even eugenics, re-education, and aggressive social engineering.

On that note, my guess is that the OkCupid developers, rated as unattractive by their site’s women, posted pictures of themselves next to attractive women, they’d get ratings in the 3-4 range, not the abysmal scores that these average-plus men were given.

Ok. I’m done getting riled up and angry. I need a drink. Over-and-out.

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Defcon 4: “W.T.F.?”

Defcon 3: “What the fuck?”

Defcon 2.5 “What in the fuck?” (The “in” adds gravity.)

Defcon 2: “Tha’ fuck?”

Defcon 1: “Fuck?”

I mean, really. Fuck, man? i’-ta’ fuck?

I go away for a month, come back, and shit’s all fucked up. What happened here? Either Hope is being slandered horribly, or call me shocked and blindsided. She always seemed like a great person. I just can’t imagine her cheating on her husband. I will have another epistemic crisis, a collapse of confidence what little sanity the world seems to have, if this seemingly heroic woman turns out to have bitten faildirt in such a primal, unambiguously nefarious way.

Please clue me in, because I’m shocked. ‘Fuck happened here, people?

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7:09 am: it’s overcast, rainy, and dark. The weak morning light is barely indistinct from the ashen pink of an overcast night sky. Streetlights are on. Mornings like this don’t recommend the day. It’s tough to get out of bed. My apartment’s 5 degrees too cold, and I’m hungry but have nothing to eat.

My post was eaten by a Firefox bug. Or maybe a WordPress bug. I blame it on Firefox because it’s written in C++, an utterly awful language that should have died out a decade ago. The essay was nearly complete, and I hit the “Save Draft” button, and was told it had been saved. It wasn’t. It’s gone. Maybe I’ll write it this evening, if I have time, and put it out on Wednesday or Thursday.

On this cold, rainy morning, we move into the grand finale of autumn– early November’s display of brilliant color. Let’s just hope it doesn’t get rained out, weighed down, like so many falls. Then we enter winter, the season of spice, snow, love and intimacy– or sometimes of cold, rain, mist and desolation.

I love October, but the 27th is not one of my favorite days– I associate it with a number of deaths, breakups, numerous manifestations of bad news that have transpired on this day in years past. I realize that it’s all coincidental, and that bad things happen on every day of the year. So do good things. Approximately 1/365.2425 of all good things that have happened have occurred on this day. The same holds of bad things. Anyway, this is just prattle. I’m quickly losing my point. Did I even have one? Not so sure.

I feel raw, poorly slept, and confused. At the same time, I’m optimistic about the future, and grateful to be alive. I keep pushing forward, believing that, as damaged as the world is, it will get better. The collapse of American culture that began in the 1970s, was sped along by the Reaganoid mouth-breathers in the 1980s, and swerved into a nose dive in the 2000s, will end. Either we die utterly and finally, or we turn around. I have reason to believe the latter is more likely.

I’m going to call the nadir. It happened today at 2:30 am, the midpoint of the traditional “hour of death”. Over the past year or two, I’ve sensed a backlash. The destructive forces of casual sex, crass commercialism, female indulgence, anti-masculism, heartless conservatism, conspicuous but insincere liberalism, “game”, sociosexual obsession, combat dating, human self-mortification, et cetera, have begun to wear themselves out. We’re now on the upswing, as of 2:31 this morning. This world of ruin is reeling, badly aching, but ready to be repaired.

Why do I think an upswing is imminent? I observe. I talk to people. I ask prying questions. I enter philosophical debate with random strangers. People and news come to me, as well. An 18-year-old Somali immigrant, a beautiful college sophomore, responded to one of my essays with an account of her experiences. Casual sex seems remarkably less common in her observation of college life than it was in ours. Young people seem to be moving away from it. She only presents one data point, but I have others, and it seems that college is becoming a less crass experience by the year. It’s true that some young people are irreparably damaged, casual-sexed-out emtional zombies, but many others are turning rapidly away from filth.

The shrill cries of those in our generation who have had casual sex, as their lot in life turns sour due to their nonexistent marital value, will be bitter, stark, and petrifying. I’m talking mostly about Sex and the City harpies. They fear competition from foreign, Asian, and black women– this is why they spread nasty rumors about white, American men who date them. But this is just a “trickle” of competition compared to the next wave: a rising cohort of cultured young women, of all races and nationalities, who eschew casual sex and combat dating entirely, rendering useless and unwanted the “never return his calls” wraiths who currently own the urban dating scene.

I can’t see it for the clouds, but my clock tells me the sun has risen. Good morning, world.

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I’m going to introduce a new word, and motion that we retire the less appropriate uses of old ones. That word is ochlogamy. As awkward-sounding as the word may be, it’s the perfect word to describe the modern sexual marketplace, more appropriate than “soft polygamy” and “hypergamy”, terms that are commonplace today.

The Roissy-sphere uses “soft polygamy” to describe the nightmarish opposite-sex scene, as if a reversion to pre-monogamous norms were in motion. This is partially correct. Polygynous “alpha” males are becoming more imposing every year, increasing the scope of their damage, while “beta” and “gamma” males are being squeezed out. However, polygamy has a certain officiality that is not present on the modern casual-sex market. Moreover, it’s more appropriate to call it polygyny, as the sexual market is only weakly polyandrous, hence the large number of men it leaves with nothing. Yet if this market were traditionally polygynous, each woman involved would be sleeping with a single alpha exclusively, which is not the case. No secret harems exist, and slutty women definitely double-dip. Women who participate in the casual-sex market are not even serially monogamous, but are permitted, due to the anonymity of large urban communities, to offer themselves to the entire set of “alpha” males of their acquaintance. It’s much like “dating the football team”, but with the “teammates” often not knowing each other.

So, what do we call this shit? One might consider invoking the impractical concept known as polyamory, but this makes an outright absurd assumption that love (amour) is involved in the modern sexual marketplace, when it’s clearly not. The sexual marketplace is about social status, not love or even sex as an end in itself.

Probably the most accurate word used to describe the sexual marketplace is hypergamy, asserting that women offer themselves to the men who hold the highest status. According to a certain notion of hypergamy, we’d expect a similar configuration to what we observe: a few alpha males in (possibly nonexclusive) sexual possession of a large number of women, and a large number of men with little or no sexual access. However, the problem with the word hypergamy is that it’s too vague and morally neutral. There’s good hypergamy and bad hypergamy. If women were most strongly attracted to men of integrity, intelligence, and compassion, that would be a good form of “hypergamy”. When women are attracted to men based on an empty and pestilent notion of social dominance, as seen in the world of “game”, that’s a very bad form of hypergamy. The nefarious existing variety of hypergamy– whereby men are encouraged to be boorish, aggressive, and borderline criminal “alphas” and “badboys”– on the modern sexual market is a symptom of the underlying problem, but not this subculture’s defining characteristic.

Now I’m going to discuss ochlocracy, a style of “government” that often emerges in a lawless state. Literally meaning “rule by the mob”, it describes an undesirable political arrangement in which power is held by those who, in a society with enforced laws, would be called “organized crime”. In an ochlocratic society, might makes right. Not surprisingly, the criminal underworld has a distinct ochlocratic flavor, with disputes being resolved by private agents of brutality (hit men) rather than in the court system. The social collapse observed in post-Soviet Russia illustrates the dangers of ochlocracy, which leads to diminished life expectancy, increased crime, declining standards of living, and wide disparities of economic and social fortune.

Monogamy is the sexual counterpart of democracy. It’s designed to enfranchise nearly everyone, so that no one has a stake in upsetting or destroying the common peace. By contrast, traditional polygamy is the counterpart of aristocracy– a few “entitled” people are allowed to have disproportionate sexual access; there is also a small yeoman (“beta”) class with some access, freedom, and enfranchisement; and most people are peasants who have none. Now consider the modern state of opposite-sex relations in large cities, where loving relationships are falling out of favor while “arrangements” become more common. The destruction of sexual mores during the Sexual Revolution, coupled with the rise of malignant, empty elitism, has brought about a sexual regime that is certainly not monogamous or democratic, but it’s not aristocratic either, since the “alpha” class is fluid and determined according to a man’s boorishness– in other words, his willingness to break social norms. This is the essence of an ochlocratic environment. The “alpha” males are the ones who figured out that (1) the sociosexual marketplace is relatively lawless, and (2) that they can profit immensely by behaving in ways that would be criminalized by a more lawful society (e.g. one in which casual sex were properly shamed).

Hence we have ochlogamy, a fluid sociosexual configuration in which stable relationships are uncommon, and sexual access is mediated by a fluctuating notion of social status that correlates most highly to a person’s willingness to behave in a way that a more proper arrangement would consider shameful and criminal. It’s the world of “game”, and unless we can bring back or reinvent sexual mores, it’s not going away.

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I hate casual sex and combat dating with such fervor and passion that one could fry an egg on my forehead. I’m tolerant of rejection– it’s a part of life, and makes the dating process a lot more efficient– but aloof game-playing and sluttery put me into such a state of anger that I can’t think rationally. If a woman doesn’t return my calls, I’ve been known to send streams of insults her way, and fill her voicemail with literal white noise. I know it doesn’t do me any good, but I can’t stop it. I’m a hothead, and as a being of fire, I detest coldness and nonchalance in people. It makes me want to humiliate and destroy them. This is my one vice: not just anger, but moral mysophobia in the extreme, combined with holy indignation. It’s the one violent trait of me, a person I consider generally good and peaceful.

I bring this up because I just fucked up royally– beyond description, and probably beyond repair. I began emailing a beautiful, intelligent, and charming Jamaican woman last week. We had a great 5-hour phone conversation on Tuesday, another good conversation on Wednesday, and we had arranged a date on Saturday. She cancelled last night, saying she wasn’t feeling well. She agreed to call me to explain, then cancelled the call with a text, leavine me unaware of the severity of her health problem. Over the next day, she hasn’t returned any of my calls or the “Are you okay?” texts that I sent over the next day.

I’m so used to Ameritrash that I immediately considered the worst conclusion: she was blowing me off, like most American women are when they claim not to feel well. Blinded by anger, I forgot the possibility that, especially given the fact that there’s a fucking flu pandemic going on, should have been obvious: she was actually very sick. Let’s just say that I fucked the situation up very badly. I can’t even find words for how stupid I was.

I honestly don’t want to be such an asshole, but I’m just damaged beyond repair. I can’t believe God hasn’t seen what a mess I’ve become, scrapped the project, and started over. Ever since this motherfucker of a life event, I’ve had a severe, chronic, and intensely distressing inability to trust women that will probably follow me for the rest of my life. I get angry a lot, and do some incredibly stupid shit. Although I don’t have the same level of culpability for combat dating as alpha-male cads and slutty, flaky women (who would be jailed and humiliated in any proper society) I am still responsible for thepropagation of hurt and misery. I can’t find words for how awful this makes me feel.

I’ve turned into a monster. Combat dating is hell, and I’m one of the fallen angels– and, sometimes, it’s hard to tell us apart from the demonic wretches that started this whole fucking thing. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

In other news, it’s October and the weather in New York is… oh wait, that’s shitty too right now.

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SPOILER WARNING: In this post, I’m going to reveal plot details of two romantic comedies, (500) Days of Summer and Adam.

Romantic comedies are expected to be upbeat. They center on the courtship, relationship, and love that emerges between two people. The source of conflict is a person’s natural resistance against love– a confusing, hard-to-find, and exhaustingly powerful emotion– and the formation of relationships. There’s usually external resistance as well; the man and woman might be of different social classes or races, one or both might be involved with the wrong person at the time, or the parents may disapprove of the relationship. These obstacles threaten to derail the relationship but, in the end, “love conquers all”, and there’s a happy ending. That’s what makes this genre romantic comedy, not romantic drama or tragedy.

Two of 2009’s more inventive and interesting romantic comedies have been Adam and (500) Days of Summer, and neither had a happy ending. The first of these, Adam, is about a man with Asperger’s syndrome, who is (as we’d expect) a bit socially awkward. Actually, he’s good-looking and his social ineptitude is mild-to-moderate as far as Aspies go, but never mind that. The conflict is obvious: Adam says the wrong thing sometimes, Beth is faced with the task of training him, and her father– a stereotypical sleazebag alpha-male– disapproves of the relationship. They fall in love anyway. Adam, laid off at the start off the movie, finds a job in California due to Beth’s social training. He’s proven himself remediable and able to learn basic social skills. Beth plans to come along with him to California, but she wants to know why he wants her to be with him, so she asks him, point-blank. He obviously loves her, but he says the wrong thing, which is that he’s nervous about moving alone. She pulls the stereotypical female “I can’t do this” and dumps him, and he goes to the west coast alone. Some men, apparently, are just too awkward– too broken– to deserve happy endings.

(500) Days is set in Los Angeles, an unusual choice for a romantic comedy, because rom-coms need visible seasons to hint at the passing of time. When the characters meet in a model romantic comedy, the trees are green and it’s warm enough to see the female lead’s shoulders. They’re wearing light jackets when they start formally dating. The leaves turn red, suggestive of fiery passion, around the first time they have sleep together. Snow is falling and people are shivering when the conflict reaches its climax. (The wintry setting is conducive to, say, the male lead’s 10-mile trek through a blizzard to prove his devotion.) Spring begins shortly after the conflict’s resolved, and mention of a September wedding date rounds the story out to a 15-month courtship. Visible seasonal cues allow this to happen in the space of 90 minutes.

(500) Days takes a different approach, being set in a city without visible seasons. It tells you what time it is, with a counter informing the viewer where in the film’s 500-day plot each scene fits, and taking liberties with non-linear time. Very early, we learn that Summer is not a very nice person. On day 290, she breaks up with the male lead, Tom Hansen, for a vague and unclear reason. “Stupid female reasons” is how most men describe this style of breakup. As the film back-fills days 1 to 289, we learn why: Summer’s a capricious girl, her fancy as ephemeral as the season she’s named for, and she never was that much into Tom. Being a complete beta, he is, on the other hand, obsessed with her.

He collapses utterly after she dumps him, although it’s not clear what there was to Summer other than a pretty face, and his work and social life fall to pieces. He encounters Summer a few months later and she invites him to a party. Showing a typical level of class for an American woman, it’s her engagement party, held only three months after she trashed him. The woman who claimed love was fleeting– never permanent or “true”– has a ring on her finger after her first helping of alpha-cock. Well done. Summer gets the traditional Hollywood happy ending, while Tom loses his job and requires several grueling months to rebuild himself.

Tom’s 500 days end on an ambiguous note. He’s rebuilt himself into a confident man, now applying for positions in architecture, his dream career. At his first interview, he meets an attractive woman named Autumn. The film’s odometer resets to Day 1, and although this is supposed to be a “happy”– or at least acceptable– ending, it seems evident that he’s in for the same ride again.

In both films, we see a caring, kind man fall in love with an attractive and charming but ultimately selfish woman, and she fails him miserably out of weakness and caprice. This is what a 2009-era romantic comedy must have in order to be believable. Why? Because the vast majority of American women, at this point, are so morally bankrupt that most people in their 20s can’t imagine things being any different. It would be impossible for young people to suspend disbelief when watching a rom-com where the female lead knew what behaviors and choices are acceptable, and avoided those that are not. It would be “sappy” and unrealistic, because it’s so far removed from actual experience– at least, as life is lived now.

The glowing counter-truth is that “happily ever after” actually exists in the real world. It’s not a fantasy. A relationship without any problems and arguments is obviously unrealistic, but people fall in love every day. Some of them stay in love for 10, 20, or even 50 years. This is why rom-coms are romantic comedies and not fantasies; they’re plausible (if sanitized and contrived) depictions of a real-life courtship and marriage. In love, the happy ending can be realistic, because it actually happens to more than a few people. The problem: most American women aren’t up to the task, and everyone knows it. Summer, dumping her beta lover and shortly afterward getting hitched to an alpha, with no apology, proved herself to be a typical American woman. The same holds for Beth in Adam, unceremoniously leaving her boyfriend after he said the wrong thing.

There’s “happily ever after”, but there’s never been an “easily ever after”, and there never will be. Life, love, and relationships take a lot of work. “The spark” isn’t going to be there in the first 45 seconds, and every relationship is going to require work, but there are good reasons not to abandon the relationship at the first sign of difficulty. These truths, unfortunately, are lost on most under-40 American women, due to their obsessive and selfish need for instant gratification. Even Hollywood can’t believe otherwise anymore.

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If you ask most men in the Roissy-sphere what brought about America’s wretched dating environment, they’ll usually trace it back to liberalism. As they see it: women’s suffrage gave the female sex too much power, birth control allowed them to sleep with low-bred alphas, no-fault divorce turned women into a spoiled class, and a supposedly paternal government encouraged bad behavior in women. In their minds, it’s all the liberals’ fault, and the left is responsible for selling out “beta” men whom previous generations of women depended upon.

To quote Roissy on the matter:

From the time of the “sexual revolution” (which was really a “sexual devolution” back towards pre-agricultural mating norms when 80% of the women and 40% of the highest testosterone men reproduced) women have been more free to choose mating opportunities based on their gina tingles and the economic and social empowerment granted, respectively, by their pointless humanities degrees and the disintegration of traditional slut shaming mechanisms. The life of serial monogamy and alpha cock hopping has never been more attainable for the average American woman, and the result has been predictable: Women are substituting the beta males they no longer want or need for marriage with a Big Brother Daddy government to help them foot the child-raising bills that their PUA, drug running and serial killer lovers won’t.

How accurate is this? Well, I generally disagree with placing the blame solely on liberals, but the Left certainly made some mistakes. The current-day family court system is a man-hating disaster, and divorce law is in desperate need of revision. Also, the creation of a “sexual harassment” culture– in which a woman can freely accuse a man of “making her uncomfortable”, leading to catastrophic social harm for the man– has been an unmitigated disaster. It’s worth noting, on that issue, that it’s not even the sexual harassment laws or lawsuits that are the problem. I don’t know anyone who’s been sued for sexual harassment, and most cases of it that I’m familiar with are those in which the man is clearly guilty. The actual laws may be reasonable, but the culture that results, in which the “bogeyman” of a boorish, uncouth, “creepy” male is made cultural currency, has been a massive pile of buttfail.

On the other hand, it’s worth noting that the left-wing “sexual revolution” of the 1950s-70s did not, alone, produce the mean-spirited and perverse “alpha” culture we see in heterosexual dating today. Let’s look back to the ’60s and examine what that decade’s cultural movements were all about. Anti-war protests. Hippies. Marijuana. LSD. “Free love”. Impractical utopias. Woodstock. Rock ‘n’ roll. As it were, hippies embraced nakedness and some were comfortable having unattached sex. Lots of sex, with a lot of different people. Polyamory. This was, however, much closer to the “everyone belongs to everyone” mentality of Brave New World than the mean-spirited and status-obsessed hypergamy of modern dating.

Let’s compare three casual sex cultures to examine how they are different. First is the gay male casual sex culture, which is more aggressively sexual but, in general, much less mean-spirited than its modern straight counterpart. Their casual-sex culture is about sex, plain and simple– nothing more and nothing less. (Gay men seeking loving relationships do not generally look for them in that scene.) Second is the modern straight casual sex culture, which lacks the reciprocity of the gay counterpart, the gay one being remarkably respectful in comparison. In the straight “hookup” culture, there’s an obvious lack of reciprocity; the man wins by “getting” sex, while the woman wins by denying it, except to a man of very high (“alpha”) social status. It is about status and popularity more than it is about sex. The “hookup” is just the currency of exchange between men and women, of very low intrinsic value apart from its status-oriented benefits. It’s conspicuous consumption of sex. Third, for this comparison, is the distinct and now utterly dead “free love” subculture of the 1960s. For the most part, this culture wasn’t about status at all. Say what you want about hippies, but we can all agree that their men aren’t “alpha”. It wasn’t about sex or status, per se, although the desire for sexual pleasure was certainly a part of it. It had a distinct reason for existing.

What was it about, then? Well, “love”– but not of the romantic kind. Many of the free-love advocates were just kids, in their late teens and early 20s and inexperienced with love. They didn’t know what romantic love was, having never experienced it, and they assumed that it was like a sexualized friendship or camaraderie. (They were, of course, very wrong.) Moreover, they did not want to turn sexuality into a status-seeking carnival. They wanted to abolish notions of status entirely, starting with monogamous relationships, without adequately examining why such relationships existed, and what they were about. From their perspective, marriage was bitterly unhappy and boring, akin to a sort of soft slavery. I’ll note that it’s difficult to fault them entirely for this perception, because 1950s culture was so sanitized and sterile that these people had barely a clue what was going on inside of a marriage, and widespread sexual reservedness meant that the incredible, life-altering upsides of a great marriage were hidden. Marriage was, and still is, like intelligence work in this regard. The successes, no matter how astonishing and beautiful, are closely-guarded, subtle, intimate and private. The failures are public.

Free love, as it turns out, is about as practical as taking LSD every day– in other words, an utterly terrible idea that might appeal to a just-opened but naive mind. The hippies believed that their Aquarian camaraderie could be transformed into a sexual relationship, but most of them quietly realized they were wrong. Human nature is nothing like bonobo nature. Inevitably, most of them would discover a special person with whom they did want an exclusive, permanent sexual and romantic relationship. “Free love” was abandoned, like a hippie commune that its members outgrew, as these people aged into their mid-20s and began experiencing romantic love for real. Love isn’t free or cheap. It’s costly, beautiful, dear, and difficult.

As impractical as “free love” turned out to be, I find it difficult to detest this culture with the same fervor that I hold for Sex and the City culture. The holy indignation that I have toward modern “alpha” pricks and sluts I would not direct at the free-loving hippies. They tried something impractical and stupid in their early 20s, it failed, and they moved on from it. What’s to hate about that? Nothing.

Something nefarious began in the 1970s, accelerated in the 1980s and ’90s, and damn near destroyed the country (and might still) in the 2000s. Americans fell in love with elitism— and not the meritocratic “elitism” of the era that put men on the moon, but an empty elitism of status-seeking, cutthroat competition of questionable value, and consumption as the national religion. Gilded Age 2.0. Studio 54. “Greed is good.” Yuppies and coke orgies. The Bateman days. Rank-and-yank. Enron. Sex and the City. “A boot in your ass, it’s the American way.” The conversion of Ivy League colleges into recruiting agencies for investment banks. Ad nauseum. Winner-take-all elitism became sexy and cool, despite its corrosive effects in the long-term and on society. In other words, it’s the new smoking, and we need desperately to kick the habit.

It’s often said that AIDS killed the casual sex culture that was born in the 1960s, and that a new one was born in the late ’80s with the advent of anti-retroviral drugs. Wrong. The casual sex culture never died, and its 1970s local minimum had nothing to do with AIDS; it occurred before AIDS had even been discovered, in the early ’80s. What actually happened is that the “free love” culture of the 1960s died out on its own, just because it was so impractical and sloppily thought-out that it never had a chance in the first place. Excluding a few ivory-tower radical feminists– trolls before there was an internet– free love’s exponents abandoned it and began falling in love, forming proper families. However, the rise of status-obsessed and mean-spirited elitism came shortly after and spawned a new casual sex culture– one in which people are treated as commodities with no intrinsic worth, but valued solely because they’re desired and exclusive. This more recent casual sex culture has infinitely more to do with Reaganoid heartless conservatism than with 1960s liberalism.

Unfortunately, game is not going to die as quickly as “free love” did. The most obvious difference between these two expressions of casual sex is that game succeeds on its own terms. Free love was borne out of good intentions. Many of its adherents and exponents were people of good moral character who, when they saw their ideology’s weaknesses and failures, abandoned it. Post-Reaganoid “winner-take-all” hypergamy is borne out of hateful intentions and, for the most evil people who keep it going, serves them extremely well. Only a revolutionary upswelling of “radical goodness”– an aggressive promotion of love, romance, kindness, and sexual propriety– can end it.

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