Things I like about women

Dedicated to the girl reading this

As most of you are probably aware, I put out a somewhat controversial tract last week that sought to highlight the most admirable qualities of our beloved Bantu brothers.

And it seems this article was precisely what you contrarian scamps were craving, because so far its engagement metrics are through the roof.

Today we’ll see if I can’t beat those numbers—this time with an even more provocative listicle celebrating the countless virtues of the fairer sex.

So ladies… below are just a few of the things I really admire about you.

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They make me go outside.

Left entirely to my own devices I would never leave the house.

I know this because that is basically my lifestyle these days whenever I’m single—Uber Eats and Amazon bring whatever I want directly to my door so I’m spared the indignity of interfacing with anyone who’s never heard of the Hajnal Line, while my solitary monthly excursion is the Uber ride to Walgreens to retrieve my meth.

But kindly note I don’t do this because I’m some sort of wallflower; by temperament I’m clearly quite extraverted. I simply prefer to satiate this extraversion through online polemics and podcasting, because A) I have fantastically niche interests that mostly preclude coordination on any IRL geographic basis; B) I often find physical embodiment rather unpleasant and irritating; and C) digital communication is vastly more scalable, secure, and amenable to the exponential life strategies I adore.

But this approach also has pronounced downsides: it amplifies any existing autistic tendencies, and often causes weird tics / body language to develop such that you start to resemble Slavoj Zizek. Meanwhile it gradually tanks your attention span / executive functioning, and without corporeal feedback you become something of a poltergeist.

But thankfully most autistes never reach that point, and are usually first confronted with a far more salient need for pussy, the acquisition of which generally requires going outside and acting at least moderately civilized. Even a hyper-asymmetric psycho like Wally B must shower and put on pants and walk across the street to that Thai joint with the dour auntie who gives you the stinkeye whenever you bring a new girl there.

Then should you aim to transmogrify said pussy into higher order treasures—things like love, companionship, cameraderie—the demands will grow even more onerous, because girls grow stir crazy a lot faster than guys. Women are creatures of the sun and soil, and desperately need to frollic and play in nature lest they grow hysterical and cunty. Bae won’t be satisfied scrolling TikTok all day while you finish that killer treatise on how to roll back interracial marriage amidst distracted quickies; to keep the relationship alive you’ll occasionally need to take her picnicking or something.

This often seems like a waste of time to a spergy narcissistic optimization enjoyer, who might envision an ideal date as fucking next to the Uber Eats bag while Black Mirror plays in the background, but in truth this is for your benefit as much as hers. To be fully respected as a leader, scholar, businessman, whatever, you can’t come off as a freak, which you gradually will if you don’t occasionally let bae drag you out of your tower to get fresh air and bullshit with some 92 IQ Salvadoreans. Also recall that even if the relationship falls through you’ll likely acquit yourself much better with that cute enigmatic salonnière if you can maintain a deportment that doesn’t scare the hoes.

Women give us the impetus to civilize long before we start turning into beasts, and as annoying as this is in many many contexts, we also owe them our sincerest gratitude for maintaining such essential societal infrastructure.

Believe me.

They don't care about “truth.”

I don’t mean with respect to God or climate change or whatever. I’m talking specifically about the nature of implicit status hierarchies and power structures, which are invariably far less symmetrical and far less “just” than the party line will ever admit.

But whether we’re assessing corporate policy or the dating market, women are always a lot more likely than men to accept said party line at face value and obfuscate away lopsided power dynamics behind saccharine leveling platitudes (“there’s someone for everyone,” “we’re just not compatible, “annual raises are based on merit”, etc. etc.).

Then when men break down those same structures in a systematic/formalist way that contravenes the attendant platitudes (“redpills”), women become confused or stressed or incredibly hostile… and then almost invariably will call you an incel.

And for much of my life I fucking hated women for this—it felt so transparently evil, so needlessly obscurantist! What possible benefit could *ever* exist in depriving men of critical information that might help them intelligently navigate power structures?

The answer, of course, is that some fellas are manlets or 95 IQ or incredibly low T, and NOT giving those particular men leveling platitudes would also be tremendously evil.

Hell, even average guys aren’t especially served by “redpills” in my opinion, except perhaps in that loose apocryphal big brother sense—i.e. “chicks dig jerks.” You want simple clean heuristics with a distinct aspirational path to medium-term success.

But highly systematized “redpill”-style knowledge that deeply interrogates power dynamics and implicit status hierarchies is to my mind only suitable for high IQ and agentic fellas of great maturity who possess both the ability to become a “high status male” and the fortitude not to grow blackpilled when faced with the extent of modern asymmetries. This stuff must remain esoteric—particularly when adjacent to sex.

And—to their great credit—women understand all this. Not intellectually or consciously, of course; they’d never think to write any of it down. But they absolutely get it on a deep and intuitive level.

In relationships they know most guys are best served by “bee urself” and “we’re just not compatible”, while in the office they know the peons have to think the pay structure is somewhat fair. And so the women themselves come to believe these things.

They deeply internalize such leveling rituals, even while retaining their deeper primordial “embodied” knowledge of stark asymmetries, and this tension is what keeps society humming along predictably without men killing each other all the time.

Masculine abstracted formalist “truth” simply isn’t the point—societal health is.

And that’s why women hate incels so much—they’re basically existental terrorists who uncovered forbidden esoteric knowledge they weren’t meant to know and can’t even deploy to any useful effect. By exposing that shit to the world incels are compromising both the emotional health of other low status guys (which women very genuinely want to protect) and the ability of women to function earnestly in their crucial role as passive maintenance workers of societal health.

Anywho, if you’re interested in reading more about this then check out the following:

Women and Liberals Win With Language

The Truth About Consent

my interview w/ Dark Renaisance (give em a follow!)

They let funny guys get away with murder.

It’s remarkable how simply making a girl laugh can reset the entire tenor of a discussion.

She’ll be staring daggers at you—her expression the very essence of contempt and disgust and plumetting esteem—and then you’ll say something witty or retarded that makes her burst out laughing and suddenly she’s all grins again.

Obviously this works on guys to some extent as well, but in my experience the impact is easily an order of magnitude less pronounced. On men it’s a sales tactic if anything.

But women are creatures of the heart, and if you reach them on that level—classically through humor, but theoretically through any such sentimental rhetorical device—they’ll let you get away with shit they’d never tolerate from less inspired fellers.

That’s because it’s an alarmingly potent way of sidestepping intuitive moral prejudices by interfacing with her soul-to-soul; you grant shawty poetic access to your complex messy interiority, and suddenly it becomes impossible to dehumanize you.

In some sense this is actually the most asymmetric strategy of them all.

They're good at following instructions.

A few months ago my bed frame collapsed, which meant that for the first time in nearly a decade I experienced the abject shame of being a Floor Mattress Guy.

But I’m even more ashamed to admit that after this traumatic event it took me an embarrassingly long time to muster up the requisite spoons / appropriate headspace to properly address the situation—in large part because I was incredibly busy with Tortuga and other shit, but mostly just because I was feeling kind of emo at the time.

Yet over the past few weeks something has changed in my life… something new has emerged to give me an exhilarating jolt of vital energy and agentic drive. But this burst of inspiration didn’t just enable me to log on to Amazon to purchase a bed frame.

I’ve actually started to put it together.

And so for the past few hours I’ve been struggling mightily at this task. I’ve also made appallingly little progress, because it would seem the price of my supra-Ashkenazi verbal acumen is a visual-spatial ability that’s comfortably sub-Khoisan.

Maybe I’ll just pay a blue collar dude on taskrabbit or some shit to do everything for me. I could find a guy like my Uncle Monty… he’d knock this shit out in 20 minutes tops. He’d probably see how everything fits together just by looking at the pieces.

I frown and reach for the manual. Some things in life a man simply has to do himself.

But these fucking instructions look like they’re to disarm a bomb… and why do we need eight different kinds of screws for a fucking bed frame? Also what’s a “gasket,” and how exactly is this retarded curved thing even supposed to fit against the frame?

I’m at an impasse. Christ, when did I even do something like this last? I think it was that bureau… and with that I’m certain I had a girl helping me… was that as recently as Kyla? Or all the way back to Lexi? It was one of them I’m sure. Poor girls… wish I had one of them here right now. For lots of reasons, not least of which being that either could handle this retardation in their sleep—the lifelong benefit of a blue collar dad.

My own father is a liberal arts professor—a soft and gentle man and probably a sperg, with lots of book learning and zero street smarts. When my mom brought him back to Arizona with her my Uncle Monty tried to bond with him by swinging a dead cat in his face. If memory serves she always took the lead when putting together furniture.

Suddenly it dawns on me that I can just look this shit up on YouTube. I find an instructional video for the correct model and realize approximately fifty seconds in that at least half the pieces I’ve attached to the frame are screwed on backwards.

Briefly weighing my options, I jam the fucker in my closet and get to work on some new promotional materials for Tortuga.

They're attracted to lots of different things.

One of my very most favorite parts of being a man is having access to so many fantastically distinct yet equally viable status hierarchies.

There are virtually unlimited “character classes”to pick from… which means a man of sufficient ambition and energy and self-awareness is generally able to hedge against his most intractable faults and eventually make himself fairly attractive to *someone*.

As a man your floor is much lower, which is certainly blackpilling if you’re kind of a loser… but your ceiling is also much much higher. None of us will ever reach it, nor even come close. But you also needn’t even be a Chad to climb way past the woman ceiling; I’d very genuinely rather be me right now than Oprah or Melinda Gates. And there are like fifty ways I could have gotten to a roughly equivalent place in life.

Meanwhile as a girl if you’re fat or have a really ugly face it’s just Game Over for you, because for a woman who doesn’t fit a culturally normative standard of beauty there are very few ways men will ever consider you to be a viable partner. Instead they’ll treat you like shit or at best like you’re invisible… and then once you’re past that fertility window lots of guys will only see you as viable for casual sex.

As a man I can approach my SMV like life is Morrowind, but for women it’s more like life is Blackjack. Can you imagine how annoying that would be if you aren’t simply born pretty? I’m surprised more femcels don’t throw acid in Stacy face—I know I probably would. And then if you get fat you can’t simply compensate with money or aggression or charsima like guys can; you’re forced to find a fetishist or a blackman.

It seems to me men just staightforwardly have it better in this regard and the female situation is far less fair on an existential level. We must extend girls more sympathy.

They make it easier to scam your company.

Something like job stacking is only possible because of the presence of women in the workforce—without that element the whole enterprise would collapse in five seconds and I’d lose my opportunity to collect several six figure salaries simultaneously.

There are two components to this:

1. Despite being excellent at office work at the “micro” level (far better than men), women are generally terrible at “macro” level work. That’s because girls don’t think in terms of arbitrage and exploiting asymmetries and building scalable processes to capture value—in other words, the things you need to excel at to succeed as a serious entrepreneur or high level executive or job stacker. What women specifically excel at is following instructions, which is why they usually introduce lots of bureaucracy and proceduralism and bullshit jobs, creating all these jungles where guys like me can hide and slowly juice the company.

2. Women will almost always introduce all this lame feelings shit to the workplace, which lets me pretend to be a gay Jew with ADHD or a mom suffering from dementia to get out of doing my work. Sometimes this specifically means milking reasonable accommodations and the like, and sometimes it just means appealing to female sympathy, but either way: the more feminine the company the easier it becomes to properly exploit this sort of weakness.

I really appreciate women for creating a viable path to double and even triple male incomes for so little additional work. Creating this kind of inefficiency to bog down the bosses to such an extent honestly makes women a fantastic force multiplier.

I hope to gradually repay them by creating a culture wherein job stacking / other asymmetrical strats make traditional economic labor wholly unnecessary for women.

They aren’t loyal to their romantic partners.

A lot of guys are cartoonishly terrified of romantic or sexual disloyalty from their woman, which I mostly see as an unfortunate scarcity mindset. And understand I’m not doing some macho swinger thing here or trashing monogamy in any way—if anything I’ve been moving more in that very direction over the past few months.

I’m merely saying the female willingness to hypergamize is mostly a very good thing for both men and women. The way it’s good for women is obvious—it affords them space culturally to maneuver as they need in hopes of securing the optimal man, which also incentivizes men they’re dating to propose and lock them down instead of wasting their time for years and years. But it’s equally good for men (if not more so!), because it means you frequently have a decent shot at stealing another dude’s girlfriend (and specifically girlfriend; wives are obviously verboten).

Note I’m not talking about any sort of gauche play to steal her overtly—that only works on very young or trashy girls, and the classier / more experienced ones would almost certainly never entertain such a thing. Instead you need to take the gentlemanly route and keep everything plausibly deniable. Wait out the relationship and leave it be, all the while deploying your own pieces strategically, tactfully, artfully… and then eventually make your move as befits the circumstances.

This is how hypergamy usually works in practice; the best girls constantly branch swing in this manner prior to marriage, and are seldom “single” in the conventional sense. That’s why gf poaching is often a more reliable approach than going after single girls, who have their guard up and are being pursued by a much larger pool of men. Just ask yourself—would you rather compete with one guy, or several million?

They're *incredibly* forgiving.

During my fuckboy epoch I’d often sort of “interview” my conquests post-coitus to collect data on the sort of extreme life experiences girlies will often only share with casual hookups—a dude they sleep with precisely once and never plan to see again.

One incredibly recurring theme coming out of this analysis was that a lot of these women had been raped or assaulted by some male acquaintance or extended family member, but never reported it to the law because they didn’t want to see him punished.

Now sometimes they still wanted an apology or money or something… but it was very common for them to say something like “he shouldn’t have to go to JAIL over it.”

Now I never gave much credence to those feminist unreported rape stats… they always seemed unfalsifiable and epistemically unsound to me. But I don’t care about the actual number really, because at this point I’m thoroughly convinced a huge number of women (especially in the working class) end up protecting their rapist in this way.

And to me that actually speaks to a really powerful self-sacrificial and loving impulse that lots of women have—something almost Christlike in character.

And sure you have some false rape accusations too… but honestly I’ve never taken them especially seriously, and think guys are unreasonably paranoid these days.

I myself am quite aggressive sexually and have been with many dozens of women, and I’ve never had to deal with anything like a false rape accusation. I’ve certainly had girls text me like a week after the fact saying they were uncomfy during but hadn’t said anything bc they were nervous or some shit…but this is very easily handled by simply staying calm and being very empathetic while firmly insisting everything was consensual (and privately documenting your proof to that effect). All of these girls have ended up my friend and it was fine—you simply need to have decent social skills.

They are racist.

As a final point it’s noteworthy that white women display a more pronounced ingroup preference in their marital choices than almost any other race + gender combo (black women are technically higher, but in that case it’s obviously less of a choice):

And yet you never see white women honored for this loyalty by white nationalists.

It happened back in the Alt Right era for sure, but the modern Dissident Right is repulsively incel coded and will instead accuse white women of fucking dogs and getting shit on by Emiratis and that sort of garbage.

But the truth is white women are incredibly loyal to white men, and in practice this is something a lot of other races of men are insanely bitter about. They very specifically want to fuck white women, but aren’t able to thanks to this phenomenon, which we frankly ought to be celebrating and bragging about more in a really obnoxious way.

So next time you feel tempted to countersignal Karens just remember this chart, and perhaps give some consideration to all the gorgeous women who love us so much.

And *especially* to the girl reading this.