I find myself increasingly concerned these days that the Trad subculture is setting up quite a lot of earnest and prosocial young lads for disappointment in life.
They’re given a script for “male leadership” that in practice feels like total culpability— in which wildly asymmetric enforcement mechanisms sharply curb a man’s functional agency in marriage, while at once amplifying the more indirect and ambient sort of power his wife enjoys and structurally precluding that power’s basic legibility.
…the upshot of which is that it often sort of feels like Trad Women wear the pants.
Now please understand precisely none of what follows is penned in a spirit of bad faith—Trads have been an integral component of the Walt Right since my first days on Substack, and are some of the most productive and capable members of Tortuga.
The goal here most definitely isn’t to convince you boys to pursue a different lifestyle.
Rather I’m attempting to shine a light on some of the more opaque power dynamics of this type of relationship so you understand what exactly you’re getting yourself into.
Cause some of these girlypops are quite a lot trickier than you’d think.
So this may come as a bit of a shock to all you youngblood Zoomerinos in my readership, but for the better part of the 2010s I myself was an ardent and dedicated Trad.
Yeah, yeah—prolly beggars belief from the author of such classics as Stop Being Mean to Slutty Women, Anal Sex Should Hurt, and You should date a Libtard Feminist, right?
As evidence I’ll submit this dank trad Swan Princess parody I recorded a decade ago with the chickie who’d end up becoming my first gee eff only a few weeks thereafter:
Suffice it to say it was a different time.
And believe you, me, reader—I made every effort to make the Trad thing work. Truly.
First with Natalie, whom I immediately fell madly in love with and proceeded to steal from this Europoor NEET she was living with at the time. And it was kind of just a fairytale romance, all things considered—we were both 22 then, but it was honestly sort of middle school coded, and all my frens would call me a massive fag whenever they heard me on the phone with her. But then I hit the shoals a couple months in; fucked it all up for kind of pedestrian first girlfriend reasons. We were constantly on and off for the next year or so… until 2017, when she did a stint in the Disney College Program, and I moved out to FL hoping to win milady back and wife her up and tbh boys I came pretty damn close a fair few times. But I also sort of shat the bed on a couple dates… drunkenly bantzed her for turning 24 and idk it was an instructive year. Point is I was never quite able to get that ring on Nat’s finger, so when she left in early 2018 it felt like goodbye… at least until a year or so later, when I get a text out of the blue and long story short manage to spend the next four years hooking up with her intermittently as part of some gay little incel harem exbf rotation she insisted wasn’t polyamory but that’s another story—point is I never fall out of love with her. Keep attempting to seal the deal. Almost do so in 2020, frankly… but then after that it’s kind of just a FWB thing.
Next with Diana—a homeschooled virgin who ran this Alt Right ladies’ podcast and lived close to my new home base in Omaha. I’d been crushing on the bih for ages and noticed her engagement had recently fallen through, so after things died with Nat I leveraged my at this point only mildly stale Alt Right internet celebrity to immediately score a date with her—and long story short? Started amazing on the phone, and then ended pretty terribly once we actually met… just not in any way I especially resent her for given this shit was ultimately what torched my boyish romanticism towards women enough for me to not seem like such a huge enormous faggot on dates anymore; it was only after this shit I actually started getting laid regularly. She also demonstrated to me that Trad girls aren’t really my thing, and also that it’s pretty retarded to assume a virgin will automatically be sweet and submissive. Anyway Diana and I actually ended up becoming phone besties a few years later, but that’s another story…
Then finally with Josephine—a 6’1 chemist / Seventh Day Adventist whose mom died in a car crash when she was a baby and I met on Match Dot Com in Omaha. Thanks to Diana having crystalized my incel rage I actually managed to pork Josie on just the second date by being super duper aggro / chadlike, but after that night she began trying to slow things down sexually which created friction between us, such that when Nat texted me again wanting to meet up I kind of just let it all fall apart with Josephine thinking this time I would surely convince Nat to marry me.
Anywho point is all three of these sirens were cognitively conservative good girls (albeit of markedly different neurotypes; Nat and Diana were both spergy right wing art hoes whereas Josephine was kind of a normie-adjacent Coltish Girl with an IQ of 115-120 versus I’d hazard approximately 125-130 for both Nat and Diana), and I sincerely feel the experiences detailed above will A) demonstrate that I, Wally B, am sufficiently psychologically contiguous with you, Mr. Tradboy, to grok your basic preferences and sensibilities; and also B) prove to you I haven’t just cavorted with disreputable and inked-up sloots, and can, in fact, speak to how your own women think and behave.
…particularly given that as mentioned above Diana and I were kind of phone besties for much of 2020-2022, during which time she was iirc living in a convent I think?
Either way through her I learned a ton of esoteric tradcath lore and gossip… including some behind-the-scenes Woman Facts the boyim aren’t supposed to know about.
Honestly Diana and I probed each other’s minds so fuckin exhaustively during this era (think like 5-6 hour phone calls) and I learned so much about her remarkably diverse friend circle that I can likely speak with greater authority on the archetypal Trad girl mind than I could about any of the women I’ve actually slept with.
Which is really a bit odd given I never managed so much as a kiss from Diana herself—on our date back in 2018 she’d grown rather discomfited by my neurotic coastal affect and genteel silky actuary hands and the fact that I randomly brought up my foot fetish out of nowhere. To the maid’s credit she recounted to me later basically every single thing she didn’t like about me… which tbf is one nice thing specifically about spergy cognitively conservative women that basically no other type will do for you.
That being said this was also the moment it started to dawn on me for the first time that moving to Nebraska had been kind of a retarded idea.
…an impression rather solidified a few moments later when I pressed her about some other lad she was seeing—I wanna say Kyle? Tall skinny dark triad mf… think she may have even called him a meth dealer or something, but idk I might be making shit up.
I asked her if she kissed him.
She said yes… with this sadistic little smirk in her voice…
Then she giggled; told me I could call her a cunt if I wanted to.
Genuinely forget if I obliged.
I’ve always said this in particular was the “moment that redpilled me”—which seems a bit gay now in hindsight given this was objectively very sixth grade (tho tbf Diana and I were both homeschooled) and Nat had fucked me over a million times worse than this in a million different ways and I’d eternally remained every bit the simpy chevalier with her. Whereas Diana kissing Kyle and giggling at me registered as the Walt version of Anakin’s mom getting killed… so much so I was still using it to excuse being mean to random coeds I fucked in Orlando almost two years later.
The reason it impacted me like this was twofold: A) I simply wasn’t used to such overt cruelty or sadism from dames, given that while Natalie could be a huge cunt when she wanted to make me jealous it was always more of a plausibly deniable softgirl register. Whereas with Diana I think it was more of a homeschooled thing where she randomly was acting like an 11yo because I saw the same thing again many years later once I was dating girls born 2003-2005, who had the same sort of arrested development thing; and also B) She was a virgin… and also homeschooled, sort of autistic, Alt Right, no tats, super high IQ, basically the platonic ideal of everything I’d dreamed of in a woman… which meant ofc if SHE could do it they’re basically all just capricious fleshlights.
It would take a good long while for me to realize that in reality she was exactly the sort of girl who’d do this—which in this particular case was just the two of us having our gay autistic homeschooled moment and objectively not bad at all, but looking back this chick’s fundamental neurotype was lowkey identical to Layla’s—INFP, mid-120s IQ, literary prodigy, snow white impulse to go befriend these random weirdos, oscillates between ethereal sperg and almost aggressively earthy in sort of this Fuck Walt way…
Radically different upbringings, of course—but I’d wager just on a genetic temperament level they’re basically twin sisters.
And of course history ended up repeating… which is why I’m sorry but if you fags STILL don’t believe in eternal recurrence / synchronicity / mythic archetypes you’re tbh kind of a retarded fedora because this shit is quite clearly just encoded in reality.
But anyway the situation with Diana happened and I ended up inside Josephine just a few weeks later. And thankfully she was Canadian or some shit, which meant she also hated the Corn Huskers and to my great relief quite enjoyed having her toes sucked—so much so that by the time we broke up she’d adopted the kink herself just passively.
That said I didn’t really treat her great most of the time… like half the reason it even lasted the four months it did was so I could show her off at my office Christmas party (she did a fantastic job), and when we broke up she complained about me in the same exact way I complain about Zoomettes: flaky, inconsistent, unserious, etc. But she was just so slow and steady and dignified and German for me… one of many reasons to this day Josephine remains the only girlfriend I’ve sourced from linear high trust normie methods instead of either the sugaring world or internet racism.
But anywho, circling back.
As I said, I never did nothing physical with Diana, other than I guess like awkwardly holding hands for three minutes.
That said she DID originally become Alt Right thanks to me, which suggests I must have at least touched her amygdala at some point… according to Diana my old Disney parodies were what originally brought her onboard two or three years before we met.
IIRC she liked this one best:
Now I won’t also take credit for her conversion to Catholicism given that she’s offered many years of her life to the Church by now whereas for me Tradcath was always kind of a fanciful LARP my bestie and I did a few months; we only went to mass like once.
But still fam, idk… sorta sus to be a lifelong Prot only for that feller who’d turned you racist and you’d later call soulmate to come along saying Protestantism is retarded and Catholicism is based and then a few months later you’re off saying Hail Marys…
like do you even need to fuck a girl after that?
Anyway, you fags aren’t here to read my life story.
Let’s start by breaking down the Trad Girl’s most salient cognitive quirks:
Psychometrics— So when I say Trad Girl I pretty obviously mean the type of chick to aestheticize / intellectualize it and not like Marge Simpson; assuming you can grok any of my shit then if you marry Marge she’ll probably just act like your dog. So with that in mind I’m restricting your domain to the Trad Girls who wouldn’t act like your dog, and will on the main show up as INTJs and INFPs alongside a decent number of INFJs and XNTPs and a smattering of additional types besides. As a rule they’re all creative, sensitive, solipsistic, and narrative-driven… whereas more specifically the INFPs are histrionic gossips you’ll never control entirely but will let you do whatever whereas the INTJs are nags and doomsayers but often happy to submit a man (usually a DDLG vibe… they’re all little girls deep down) compared to INFP/INTP/ENTP and esp ENTJ gals. Meanwhile the INFJs are the most pleasant by far, but they’re also kind of just huge liars so watch out. Finally in terms of Big 5 you’ll see lots of diversity, but I’d say high neuroticism prevails whereas most of these girls will be as low conscientiousness as you’d expect of any intellectual; most will probs spend more time shitposting than folding laundry (then again if you were optimizing for laundry you’d go for Marge).
Phallic Orientation — In my experience you can conceive of basically all female sexuality along a continuum of Phallic versus Yonic—think cock and cunt energy. Women in the Phallic register are animus-oriented, meaning they’re a lot more physical and tend to enjoy height and big hard cocks and six packs and knowing how to fix the dishwasher and speaking in a monotone and understanding who Scott Frost is and having rough hands. Whereas in the Yonic register the woman is focused on her own femininity—smallness, scaredness, cuteness, youngness—and from you mostly needs emotional stimulation, which could entail a sapphic bestie thing or sadomasochism or DDLG or some really gushy romance lots of options. Phallic sexuality is more agentic whereas Yonic often runs a bit pillow princess. Meanwhile Phallic women tend to be quite a lot less bisexual overall, and are also much less likely to fuck an ugly nigga whereas Yonic women as a rule care a lot less about looks in a man beyond that he’s taller than them (obv about making her feel small ofc). And most important for us: Phallic women trend right while Yonic women trend left, and Yonic women outnumber Phallic women.
Heroic Masculinity— The Phallic woman (ergo all Trad Girls) can be characterized above all else by her animus-driven psychosexual fixation on problem-solving heroic masculinity. And note that’s not Chad Thundercock here; babygirl is looking for Batman. For her the Ick is when you do something unbatmanlike, a la paying someone else to assemble furniture. Meanwhile she’s never satisfied with you simply performing Batman for her—that’s just weird stupid theater kid shit. The whole point is that you actually are Batman... who despite being a billionaire fixes the dishwasher himself you disgusting fucking chode (compare to a Yonic chick for whom performance is often sort of the entire point of sex).
Sexual Frustration—The Trad Girl acts out specifically due to volcanic sexual frustration, often stemming from either A) the girl maintaining her virginity into adulthood past her peer group; or B) growing erotically unsatisfied with her man. In either case the fix is thankfully quite simple—she needs to be aggressively fucked. Which presumably won’t be a problem once you’re married, but assuming you’re committed to chastity this dynamic can introduce a lot of friction to courtship. And so the next time she acts out realize it’s almost certainly because she’s horny and maybe consider eloping now so as to give babygirl the Ayn Rand treatment.
Animus Possession—You know that cunty yet still vaguely fuckable Dagny Taggart energy you see in pretty much any right wing broad above a certain IQ threshold? Sometimes this type of bih will engage you in a completely different register from other women—e.g. instead of Yes Anding she’ll overtly contradict you, or simply approach the world in a more linear and propositional manner like a man would instead of with a woman’s diplomatic and relational affect… or she’ll maybe call you a faggot and be mean to you for basically no reason. Whichever it is that will usually indicate that she’s horny or she needs you to be tougher or probably both.
Cognitive Mirroring and Osmosis—In other cases the Trad Girl will mirror the subject of her fixation, aping his ideas / quirks / mannerisms while psychosexually internalizing facets of his persona into her own heroic masculine ideal. Assuming a stable pair bond and supportive community this will tend to look basically like the traditional patriarchal ideal, whereas in other cases it might involve memeing a bitch into getting turned on when you lick her armpit, or maybe grooming her into giggling instead of wincing when you say bad words like “nigger.”
Animus Projection—When the Trad Girl has an absent / neglectful / weak father the animus projection dynamic gets taken up to eleven, such that the poor young baby often starts to lose her sense of self in the image of the feller she’s mirroring a la Harley Quinn and Joker. But naturally that type of idealization runs unstable, which means the moment her object falls short in competence, loyalty, grace, etc. she’ll tend to experience an intense, bitter disgust response—an ick times a million—that registers to her as moral, existential, and often even ontological opposition to his being. So henceforth she’ll want to see him harmed… and especially humiliated.
Still with me, lads? Fantastic.
In this section I’ll make a brief and breezy case that cognitively conservative women more broadly and Trad Babes more specifically aren’t necessarily the best fit for the sort of feller who wants an obedient woman and patriarchal family structure.
But to that end I suggest you first read You should date a Libtard Feminist, as I’ll be alluding to and proceeding from many of the claims already fleshed out there.
Alright, back? Swell.
Here’s the tea:
Realistically it mostly comes down to that heroic masculine ideal mentioned in the previous section. If you’re batmanlike enough to properly embody the Trad Girl’s anima and can reliably steer around her silly womanny girlbrain then I concede she actually does afford you a higher level of control then the modal libtard girl—around their man they’ll be equally submissive, but whereas the Trad Girl now starts arguing with her friends on behalf of her man’s opinions the Libtard Girl will never have the agency to do anything but adopt the opinion of the room. Also maybe there are some situations on the margins where the Libtard Girl is memed into sucking Bill Clinton’s cock because of the same low agency thing whereas the based and agentic Trad Girl has enough of an internal locus of control not to.
Thing is nigga you also have a goddamned Substack profile, so how batmanlike can you even be in practice? Like don’t get me wrong I actually don’t doubt a fair few of you laddie bucks are entirely competent at dishwasher repair… it’s just if you were to see all the libtard slits you’d shred for your verbal IQ vs. all the rightoid holes you’d own by dint of dishwasher repair ability I’d hazard that at least 95% of you rascals would ultimately end up choosing the cute and skinny libtarded girlie with a bit of ink on her over the homely chubby Trad Bih who might theoretically resist Bill Clinton a bit more consistently on the margins.
Let’s discuss that infamous old phrase you occasionally still hear in Trad circles.. the idea that “men prefer a debt-free virgin without tattoos.” Now I actually can grasp the whole virgin part, since it’s eternally splendid to groom a sweet and innocent little ho-ho into being pair-bonded and in love with you, and I’d actually concur that if you yourself are a virgin as a man and want to save it for the marriage bed your wife should probably be like a supervirgin. Only idk… it’s also an option to like chill in the city a bit, get your number to maybe nine or ten before becoming the swaggering experienced pirate groom for a girl with two or w/e… extends you flexibility and lets you be Trad still with quite low final partner counts all things considered... and yeah I know it’s not the same I won’t push it… just don’t end up marrying a fat chick with hairy arms or something simply because she’s the only virgin on hand when you could probably up your SMV and revolutionize your prospects in a few years. Esp as some weirdo autistic homeschooled kid you could plausibly go from bottom 10% to top 10% in under a year, and don’t forget that if that happens AFTER you’re married it sucks for both you and your hairyarmwife.
As for the no tats thing... first thought was yeah sort of just chud-coded but also I understand if you’re from like Oklahoma or something. It’s easy for me to forget it as a trentadegenerate, but I used to treasure the look of purity on a dame as much as any of you lads, and even Rebecca whose count is rather high for a woman has made it a point never to get them. So I understand it and certainly won’t shame the preference. That said you DO need to understand tattoo girls aren’t just some mob of dissolute mudshark race communists; they’re mostly just flamboyantly emotional and messy—too fond of drugs and unfailingly masochistic. Which of course means that if you’ve got a bit of a livewire in your brain this is precisely the chick who’ll make you happy… though perhaps not as a wife so much as a vector to help you cut your teeth a bit? Note this type of girl is happy to do that. Not saying as a lifestyle—don’t confuse me—but nothing’s stopping you lads from getting an education from a girl like this and then wifing someone inkless.
Anyway final part pisses me off because why the fuck would you hate on a girl’s debt are you literally just mentally retarded? Like—do you unironically have Down Syndrome? When bae has lots of debt and needs her big strong right wing daddy to rescue her from the payday loan Jews that’s what lets you say nigger and get her to admit abortion is wrong or let you inside throat without showering like a prole. Which ofc is assuming you have money already and don’t need to engage in priggish gay Dave Ramsay nonsense like “budgeting,” but then it’s all upside for bae to be in debt.
Tying all this together—the one long term girlfriend I had where it genuinely did feel like old school propertarian patriarchy was this single mom drowning in debt and ink both, with iirc 11 partners. Lived in a trailer, but read to me as perfectly middle class if you overlooked all the poor people tats… some of which were quite cool actually. Like this knife on her forearm that imo gave nazi skinhead… as well as this Krampus on her knee that rando neckbeards loved pointing at in public so as to yell “Hey, that’s Krampus!” But anyway here’s a balc shot of Morticia’s tats:
Speaking of Morticia—you guys genuinely shouldn’t write off single moms. Yeah yeah I know what every young guy thinks when an old guy says that shit but stfu I’m not saying go marry some fat nigger I’m saying do what I did because it’s kind of a guaranteed way to pull a girl 2-3 points above what you’d normally get with her being a billion times more obedient / loyal and typically acting like you’re the one doing HER a favor. Not to sound super human trafficky about it though because I actually did love Morticia quite a lot, for the record—and still do. That said I also never got around to meeting her kids, even though at several points she for sure wanted me to… but I also think my laziness may have bought me some useful Asshole Points to cash in later for being more of a simp, and anyway I’m kind of just against the idea of stepdads as a concept tbh. But you probably aren’t, which means you absolutely should keep in mind that if you ever manage to save and marry the single mom in your church circle basically everyone she knows will act like you’re a superhero and hook you up with shit. With single moms even her cunty normgroid friends approve of you pretty much automatically since basically all of them want her to obtain a decent hubby—even her fat friends.
The average libtard girl is generally speaking kind of a huge pussy compared to the modal conservative girl, and ergo far more submissive. One important reason for this is just tautological—e.g. since modern libtard girl culture more or less mandates cloying sweetness, a lot of smart artsy chicks will become Red Scare adjacent literally just to be mean to people (especially fatties and old women). But by the same token the sort of girlies attracted to libtard spaces are oftentimes just gentle-minded silly babies who simply can’t handle conflict all that well and need a strong conservative cowboy to protect their soft and wimpy pussy.
Also consider that a libtard girl’s dad will have let her cry all the time and get away with all sorts of stupid frivolous woman shit without ever truly pushing her. That means she now lacks all resilience and grit, and it takes everything she has simply to drag herself out of the apartment for that pathetic doordash slave job that barely pays the rent. These girls are really scared and vulnerable… feel so very exposed and isolated, like desperate hapless prey who are all getting puss tingles right now as the conservative broads reading this sneer through their stern-looking librarian glasses—and who seems like the more obedient wife now?
Libtard girls are skinnier on average
Which at long last brings me back to the central thesis of this piece—that the Trad lifestyle carries with it a pretty fucking nasty downside for men in that its essential model for “male leadership” in marriage basically just amounts to universal culpability.
The problem we face is at its core one of asymmetric enforcement mechanisms.
Imagine that Isabella is married to Joel and each has a complaint about the other:
Isabella is deeply miffed that Joel has been paying someone else to fix the dishwasher, which she sees as poor and unmanly stewardship of their family’s finances.
For his part Joel is distraught that Isabella won’t let him suck her toes during sex, and instead withdraws her adorable tootsies whenever he makes an attempt.
And idk nothin about Bible stuff… but I imagine a Trad religious community has got to have some infrastructure where a priest helps you mediate issues or what have you.
Isabella will of course get the Father to lambast Joel for his shitty stewardship and tell him to learn how to fix the dishwasher. So Joel will sheepishly accede to the bullying of Isabella’s animus… and then in all likelihood feel way too embarrassed over his own dissatisfaction to ever bring it up (even though I actually feel like a priest would tell the wife it’s a simple foreplay thing stop being weird but again idk about religion…).
But maybe Cap’n Walt is just being all weird and creepy here… surely Joel could leverage the clerical mediation mechanism in OTHER instances, right?
Never as effectively as her.
Because the vast majority of Trads believe Women Don’t Have Agency (either in a thick or thin sense) and a man is responsible for his woman’s actions), which means in practice whenever Isabella fucks up it’s always Joel’s fault in some way or another. Telling on his wife in literally any context is therefore embarrassing and emasculating, because by Trad standards he’s kind of telling on himself as a pussywhipped loser.
Isabella spent the whole day tweeting while roaches crawl over dirty dishes?
Well Christ, Joel… best go get your fuckin bitch under control…
Now I’m sure plenty of Trads are gonna say I’m strawmanning here and in practice any wife who does that shit will face blah blah blah, and alright, sure—I have every confidence that if she makes it super duper obvious and unambiguous the priest and broader community will get off Joel’s back and tell Isabella to stop being a cunt.
But if you’re dealing with a vindictive woman—pretty, cunning, high verbal IQ, maybe also some nasty dark triad shit—then this setup kind of gives her narrative hegemony.
Isabella can cry when she needs to; needle him when she needs to; withdraw and stew and veg when she needs to, and if she’s subtle enough in her gaslighting the poor dude isn’t just utterly defenseless—he’s ontologically precluded from describing the situation while being told by everyone around him that literally everything is his fault.
Obviously most women would never do anything like that.
Some would.
And basically all chickadees will at some point, and in some way take advantage of the power available to her thanks to this deep and inexorable asymmetry—precisely as we’ve always done to you lovely ladies. I’m sure you all have a few spicy and forbidden great-grandma stories to give you the gist. And you’ll also know as women the mere POTENTIAL of threat must itself be gamed around… on account of The Implication.
It’s only human nature; with a means and motive both you scale up to inevitability.
Which means to actually even out her potential weaponization of this ambient social pressure you’d also have to give Joel the full and complete powers of a traditional premodern patriarch to Chastise his wife and Take His Rights... which in practice almost certainly happens all the time with real-world Trad couples, only more as like a covert contract CNC sort of thing wherein the Tradwife ackshully finds it super hot. But in practice this is literally the exact same kind of unspoken BDSM I do with my own sheilas, and whenever they stop liking it they’ll just like… walk away. Same thing will happen for any Tradwife who decides she won’t go along with hub’s dishwasher-neglecting Leadership style any longer… she’ll hang out at her sister’s or fat friend’s or wherever and everyone will start gossiping about him being a shitty pathetic Leader until she gets basically everything she wants and tells him he’s the Leader again.
Yeah, sorry guy—you’re not the fucking Leader.
You’re just the Patsy.
Now in fairness you quite possibly COULD have this sort of thing work as originally intended if you went full Islam or even loosened extant domestic violence statutes…
…but ofc nobody actually wants what was originally intended, and if they suggested such a thing it would instantly be dismissed as unserious or psycho.
Because the asymmetry is the point.
None of this is for you.
Your “power” isn’t intended to benefit YOU in any way—rather it’s a mechanism to instrumentalize your own agency and labor for the benefit of others—and perhaps “others” here just means your own little family. It doesn’t have to be sinister at all.
But you don’t get any real power is the thing.
In practice the woman has a lot more actionable power in the relationship than you—much of which consists in the socially obligate understanding that she has basically none.
Hence she’s not Your Woman in any way that makes the hard shit especially worth it.
…yet might just be half the reason you got into all of this in the first place.
Now for anyone getting asspained at me now because ackshully ur wife REALLY IS super submissive and kawaii and would NEVER—yeah, I actually trust you on that.
You’re probably inspiring womanly submission the normal way through sonnets or dishwasher repair or your Big Fat Cock and she’s making it more of an ostensibly religious thing because that’s your script and she’s a good girl or whatever, fine.
Zero problems with that.
Men who don’t understand how to dominate women the trve and ackshual way are going to be told they’re the Leader when they’re not, in fact, the Leader, and if my nigga’s a sperg especially that shit is gonna confuse and terrify the shit out of him as everyone around the dude gaslights his ass day in and day out cause he failed to parse some gay subtextual lie we’re all just supposed to pick up on and if you can’t fuck you.
No—fuck that.
Marriage doesn’t exist anymore.
Certainly not as some “eternal sacrament.”
The modern institution is a transactional arrangement of short-term mutual concubinage that can be unilaterally torched at literally any time through simple whim and caprice.
The state will not defend your marriage through physical force; should you ever attempt to do so yourself Big Sister will liquidate you with prejudice.
Babygirl is never “your woman” except to the extent you’re really quite fantastic at sonnets / dishwasher repair or she’s too busy with Peppa Pig reruns to figure out a way to pay off her credit card. Those are the things that functionally reify your claim on your woman—your “marriage” exists exclusively to stabilize breakup logistics.
That ceremony in your temple means precisely nothing without institutional coercion backing it up, because in a frictionless opt-in society she simply can leave whenever.
…as can you, by the way.
And too many of you fellers forget that part of it; sully yourselves with the same damn sour Incel Stink for no good reason, and all because you perennially insist on ignoring the one solitary boon bestowed upon the Unfair Sex by liberal democratic modernity:
To wit, the Right to Eat Your Fill
Thank you for writing about the world I live in.
The primary value of your work could be informing inexperienced homeschool alumni of the more unsavory aspects of modernity.
Omaha is nice. Every time I go there, I’m amazed at how cute the young women are when I go to my workout classes.
The people are nice, there are fun things to do, and there are good restaurants.