A reader passes along this personal anecdote:

I wrote you about a year ago with a tale about a birthday dinner with a girlfriend where I showed up late, had no present, and subsequently violated her in wonderfully new ways that night as a result.  The main reason I wrote at the time was because I owe a great deal of how my life has changed, both at work and with women, to your blog.

Today I have another entertaining story that proves yet again how right your posts are.  I’ve been talking to a married woman for about a month now.  Her husband is well off, but about 15 years older and has made no effort to take care of himself.  He also has very little sex drive.  She does modeling and acting.  I’ve included a picture so you can make your own assessment of how attractive she is (please don’t post that if you do comment on the blog about this.  I’m really not looking to affect her career with this). [ed: she's sexy.]

I’ve been working her pretty hard the last month.  She gets approached by men EVERYWHERE.  She even has pro athletes trying to hook up with her.  So I  had to go a different route and ride that line of being somewhat supportive when she complained about her husband, but frequently make sure she knew I found her sexy as hell, and wanted to violate the hell out of her.  Halloween, that tension build-up all paid off.  We were both at a party at a bar, friends of hers all over, and after just one drink, she didn’t care who was watching.  We didn’t even make it to midnight before I was violating her in the parking garage.  The thing that was most striking to me after that, was how hard she was working to try to get some indication of commitment from me to assuage any doubts she had about what had happened.  She clearly wants out of her marriage, but that old hypergamy makes her want to know she can jump straight from one secure place to another.

The saddest thing is that her husband effectively all but told her to go fuck me.  She’s spent years trying to get him to go to the gym, go do things with her instead of sitting on his ass, and be affectionate to her.  He basically gave no alpha, and didn’t even give any supportive beta either.  As she’d describe her marriage, he honestly sounded more like your typical housewife (let himself go, believes she should just love him for who he is, etc.) than a man.

I wonder if this kind of thing happened with any regularity in Medieval Europe?

Women simply cannot be trusted to act virtuously. Their sexuality must be constrained to some degree by the operating patriarchy if civilization is to flourish. In times past, the threat of lethal cuckold revenge struck fear into the hearts of whorish wives and alpha male interlopers. Today, the State ensures the cuckold foots the bill for any bastard spawn the whore may have with her itinerant lovers.

How far we’ve fallen.

But I digress. The photo the reader included of the cheating wife was quite telling. Some girls just have the “eye of the trollop”; their intense, smoky glare broadcasts far and wide “I act before I think.” I’m not surprised a rich man married her; rich men tend to be both ignorant of female nature (they can’t be bothered to learn) and hooked on the thrill of possessing a dangerously sexy trophy wife. Rich men are under the mistaken assumption that their wealth is enough to keep a wife fulfilled and satisfied. We here who study the crimson arts know better. Perhaps they deserve the cuckolding they get.

The “love me for who I am” platitude has got to be one of the most self-destructive pretty lies a person can sincerely hold. If you believe that, and act in accordance with that belief, I can practically guarantee you will suffer in love. Even the most naturally natural alpha males who strut with conviction that they are Satan’s gift to the world know that women require certain emotional stimulations to respond sexually and to fall in love.

What can we learn from this reader’s story? Well, if you like the idea of fucking sexy, bored housewives in nightclub parking garages, you should be aware of the following:

1. Does she give off that wonderful whore vibe? Watch for the eyes and the walk. Women who love da cockas have a certain way of walking. And if she glances even for a split second at your package, she’s pre-lubed.

2. Has she been drinking? Really, it helps.

3. Does she complain about her husband or boyfriend within the first five minutes of meeting her? Now you may think this is a recipe for being her emotional tampon so she can bitch about the asshole she loves, but the benefit to you depends greatly on how you handle her whining. Too much concern, you’re beta toast. Too little, you give her no excuse to find salvation in your crotch. Also be cognizant of the style of her complaints; if she’s down to fuck around, she’ll sound more coldly dismissive of her husband or boyfriend rather than earnestly despairing.

4. Do her friends all seem like sluts? Slutty female friends are rarely cockblocks. Do you know why? Because sluts love it when their friends are sluts, too. It means no chance of being judged.

5. Is it Halloween? If it is, double your odds of closing the deal on the same night.

Whatever you do, never give your real name, address or phone number to a married woman. The last thing you need is a shotgun in your face when you open the front door.

We here at CH don’t just knock women off their princess pedestals (or knock men out from under them), we grind the pedestal into dust and toss the ashes into the Pacific breeze. But even our yeoman efforts occasionally struggle to adequately express the depraved depths of unrestricted female nature. Apropos, a reader writes:

Hi. I ran across your blog through a Google search. It looks very interesting and I am for sure going to read more later tonight after work. I was wondering if you had any advice for second wives that are married to nice guys that are paying alimony to an ex-wife that might have gotten secretly remarried to their elderly boyfriend? I’m sorry that sentence is so complicated.

Me: Wife #2

Me thinks: Wife #1 secretly remarried and is “double-dipping.”

Wife #1′s boyfriend: considerably older than her and has no heirs

She has tried to financially double-dip in the past, has a history of lying, there’s no nation-wide search we can run to check this out, and besides just having to pay back the money, there’s no downside like jail time or punitive fines for secretly remarrying and continuing to collect alimony from Husband #1.

Any suggestions would be super helpful!

Alimony double-dipping by ex-wives is real, and since it affects the resource pool of women hitched to the victimized ex-husbands, dumbshit man-haters can’t go around calling those men “whiners” without also incriminating their newly beloved women for the same illusory crime against status preening. Thus, we hear SILENCE TOTAL from the feminist kunt kollective on this matter of alimony double-dipping, which undoubtedly occurs with greater frequency than official tallies claim. Speaking of official tallies… where the hell are they? Is this mass buttfucking of betaboy cogs just one of those crimes that no one in power gives a rat’s ass about to even bother writing a report?

Double-dipping alimony whores are nearly the worst of the hypergamous worst. Second only to knowing cuckolders who try to foist alpha issue on unsuspecting beta providers. Think about the utter degradation, the abject humiliation, these craven harlots visit upon their ex-betas:

1. Coerces alimony payments from beta ex freed from any sex obligation in return.

2. Shacks up with new alpha lover and uses ex-beta’s coerced payments to buy sexy lingerie as demanded by alpha.

3. Refrains from reporting relationship. Gets to enjoy continued flow of resources from both new alpha lover and estranged beta ex.

4. Beta ex’s money now going to buy not only ex-wife’s pre-coituswear, but her alpha lover’s cock rings.

5. Cackles to herself how easy it is to keep kids away from schlubby beta ex.

6. Impoverishes beta ex and kneecaps his ability to find and keep a new woman to give him love.

What I just described above is the legal equivalent of getting a meth-addled ferret shoved up your ass, pulled out, and then shoved into your mouth to lick it clean. I believe the Latinate term is AF2MF, Ass-Ferret-to-Mouth-Ferret.

What man in his right mind would go to war for such a system?

Having never gotten myself entangled in the vulgarities of the divorce-industrial complex, all I can tell you, dear reader, is to find whatever shred of evidence that you can of your husband’s ex-wife’s remarriage and present it to a family court. This may mean coaxing your husband to wheedle any kids he may have to cough up the goods on their mother. Surprisingly, despite years of mommy poisoning the well, many children can see through her machinations and retain affection and loyalty to their father. But channels of communication will have to be open for this strategy to work.

In the meantime, you should do your best to ostracize any female or manboob acquaintances who parrot feminist lies in your presence. It’s a small act of rebellion, but big revolutions are seeded with the polite vengeances of individuals.

You’ve got to have a strong stomach to make it through this edition of BOTM. This segment will hit a lot of buttons, as well it should. In a Slate “Dear Prudence” mailbag, a woman writes for advice from Prudie (Emily Yoffe) on how to break the news of her cheating whoreishness to her kids and neighbors.

Q. Where Do I Tell My Son His Sister Came From?: A few years ago I cheated on my husband, got pregnant, and decided to keep the child. Because my husband and I had a 2-year-old son together we decided that we could keep our marriage together for his sake. The thing that really complicates things is that my husband, son, and I are white, while my lover was black, and so my daughter is mixed race. Naturally my son has begun questioning why his sister looks so different from the rest of us, and my mother-in-law took it upon herself to tell him she was adopted. I’m at a loss for what to do. For now my husband has told MIL that the topic is verboten, but we haven’t decided if we should correct her error. Until now I’ve been happy to just let people assume what they want about where my children’s origins are, but now that a story is getting around, I’m not sure what to say or how to handle it.

We’re a long ways from Normal Rockwell’s America.

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the husband surrendered to his wife’s crazy-eyed demands shrunk from risking the certainty of a divorce industrial complex ass-ramming politely discussed and agreed with his wife to keep the marriage going “for the sake of the children”.

Gotta love those children — the perfect leverage for whores and the state to use against wronged men.

Femcunt: “How can you POSSIBLY think of leaving your wife and hurting your children just because she had an unfortunate and fleeting five-year dalliance with an underprivileged but incredibly confident and masculine black man who also happens to be a doctor?”

Beta Herb: “But, I thought single moms are a light unto the world, and their children are successful in every way?”

Femcunt: “Oh, that’s rich. Using white male logic on me. Check your privilege, herbling!”

Beta Herb: “I’m so sorry. Please don’t yell at me. I’m a nice guy.”

Femcunt: “Nice guys are really jerks! You would know that if you weren’t such a jerk.”

Beta Herb: “Should I just off myself?”

Femcunt: “There’s an idea.”

Please, did you expect a feminist to comprehend dual mate strategy? Or to dabble in rationality?

Is this hubby a beta for staying with his wife when it’s so obvious to anyone with eyes that the mocha child in tow is living proof the whore wife cuckolded him in the arms of a five-point buck? Yes, he is. There’s simply no way a man can retain the heft of his balls — whatever he’s carrying — or any shred of honor, sticking by the side of an unfaithful wife who so ostentatiously gelded him, a mixed-race living reminder of his emasculation total yapping at his heels. There are just some indignities a man should not ever tolerate, especially when alternatives exist, such as beating a middle-of-the-night escape to another country to avoid punitive extractive alimony and child-support payments.

But the ideal course of action for the grievously insulted beta provider hubby presumes a somewhat sane world envelops him, and will consider his case fairly. Unfortunately, thanks to the relentless moronic march of feminists and equalist filth, and their lethal infection of the media/entertainment/academia/bureacracy complexes which constitute the juggernaut known as the Western Cathedral, we are far from living in a sane world. Instead of receiving recompense from his ex-wife for cuckolding him, and full custody of his one biological child, plus the sympathy and support of his community and the state, he would likely receive for his trouble of separating himself from the bitch who metaphorically shit in his face an extorted, back-breaking retirement plan paid in full to her, plus two days per month visitation rights. And prison rape for any failure to comply with his dispossession.

Given this morbid reality, how fitting is it for us to label such a man a hopeless beta? Isn’t he just as much a victim of his circumstance and the world which is cruelly indifferent to him as he is of his own weak character? I’m loathe to come down too hard on this guy, who probably decided it was better to minimize the fallout from a really shitty situation than to seek the justice that was rightfully his from the insult of his wife’s awesome betrayal.

However, in the final analysis, he earns his BOTM nomination. The reason why is found in the wife’s decision to keep the bastard. She would not have entertained keeping the mixed-race issue if she had a modicum of respect for her husband. Instead, it is likely he is a beta male in his heart whom she despised, and that made the decision easy for her. What use is appeasing a husband you hardly respect, let alone desire or admire? Why care for the soul-ripping consequences your detestable actions will have on a husband who no longer, if he ever did, inspires your adherence to a moral calculus via the encouragement of wonderful twat tingles? She wanted this kid born, wanted this gaudy tri-hued mockery of her marriage to shoot out of her festering womb, because it was the kid of another man. A better man.

The hubby chump doesn’t even have the luxury of hiding his shame behind ego sparing lies. A white kid could plausibly be passed off as his. But a pint-sized frappuccino is a glossy mag ad situating his disgrace front and center for the entertainment of the studio audience of his life.

And every day, every goddamned minute of every day, this pitiful lackey, chained by law and habit and feebleness to the golem of his wife’s black soul, will suffer his humiliation anew. There will be no escape from the breaking wheel that cracks the bones and tears the sinew of his self-worth. No refuge from the material proof of his wife’s love for another man. No competing nightmare visceral enough to block out the constantly birthing image of his wife’s cunt stretching and ululating for another man’s dick, and her womb happily germinating the prize of another man’s seed. A prize made all the more demeaning by the context of the times, where an abortion clinic to solve untidy problems like this one exist on every street corner, and condoms are handed out like candy. This woman made her choice WHEN SO MANY OTHER CHOICES WERE READILY AVAILABLE that would have partly bandaged the immortal wound she knifed into her husband’s pride.

His world is the world of slaves. A spiked heel kicking in his nuts, forever.

What can be salvaged from this woeful cataclysm? Oh yes, there is something.

A word about the children. Sometimes, the children must suffer to right a horrible wrong. To rectify an impossible evil. And the world must make it known who, in actuality, is the cause of their suffering. Every day, the children must know it was Mommy, not Daddy, who royally fucked their lives.

For shits and giggles, I’ll post Emily Yoffe’s reply:

A: Despite continuing weekly evidence to the contrary, I will continue to believe that the vast majority of men who think they are the biological fathers of their children really did provide the sperm. If you get impregnated by a lover of another race, what you say to your children about this is something that needed to be discussed openly with your husband, preferably before the baby was born. Making the utterly obvious verboten is not a good strategy for anyone. I think what you need for your immediate family is a dose of the truth. But, for your children, it needs to be age appropriate. Since your daughter was born a few years ago, your son is old enough to know the basics of reproduction. He needs to be told that his sister has the same mother, but a different biological father. However, what’s really important is that both he and his sister are being raised by the same daddy. You can tell him families are made all sorts of ways, and yours is just a little bit special. If your son—and eventually your daughter—want to know why this is the case, it’s fair to tell them that it’s a complicated story, and they will probably understand it more when they’re older. Say they can talk about this subject any time, but if they can wait, you and their dad can fill in more details as they grow up. For outsiders, you don’t need to explain anything. You can just say you are blessed with two beautiful children. And your husband needs to tell his mother to stop telling the kids something that’s simply wrong.

She evinces a glimmer of sympathy for the husband, but of course her advice, such as it is, amounts to the usual pro forma feminist crap: suck it up, herbische kopf, for the good of the children.

(The only person who comes out seeming halfway decent is the mother-in-law — the husband’s mother — who wants to protect her son from shame by passing off his daughter as an adoptee. Can you blame her for this honorable lie? She acted with good intentions, even if her solution is unworkable in the long run.)

My advice to him would be: get the hell out of Dodge. And don’t look back, and never let her get her paws on one red cent of your bounty or one precious second of your time. Find yourself a better woman in another country. My alternate advice, if American law weren’t so egregiously stacked against men’s interests, would be to march into court, DNA paternity test results in hand, and punish her with the same everlasting torment she has bestowed him. Grab custody of the one kid that is yours, and send the ex-wife and her love child packing for the icy wastelands, where aging single moms with complicated spawnage have about as much success in the dating market as obese, neckbearded furries. If she winds up killing herself, or her kid graduates to juvie as a glue sniffer, all the better.

Too much? No. Cuckoldry — knowing cuckoldry, at that — is the greatest betrayal. The most horrible metadeath. It is the gleeful sham of a scheming Satan. The cosmic shiv driven deep into the chewy center of the soul. The ur-lie. The King Of All Lies. The one lie to rule them all.

There is only one other lie that comes close to the terrible power of the cuckold’s deception, and that is the fraternal betrayal of a solider against his buddy in the trenches. But that awful betrayal, bad as it is, at least does not rub salt in the wound for eighteen excruciating years.

Met online? Check.

Beta herbling? Check.

Chubby American woman on the wrong side of 30? Check.

Pretentious SWPL photo? Check.

Rode the cock carousel until age limit was reached? Check.

Two people settling for each other when options have run out? Check.

From this article, a treasure trove of dating tawdriness and romantic bleakness confirming many CH maxims.

I was 30 years old, just out of a long-term relationship and no longer interested in playing the field. It was time to settle down with the right man, get married and start a family. At the urging of several friends (and my worried mother), a strategy was settled upon: I joined Match.com and JDate, a website for Jewish singles.

What followed was a series of bad dates worthy of a romantic comedy: stupid sexual remarks, too much alcohol consumed (by them). A surprising number of men high-fived me, for reasons that remain unclear.

You can read the rest at the link, if you have the stomach for it. Warning: it’s bad. Here’s a taste:

I quickly realized that the popular women seemed to know something I didn’t; they were clearly attracting the sort of smart, attractive professionals who had been ignoring my profile. Being hypercompetitive, I wasn’t about to let some bubblegum-popping blonde steal the neurotic Jewish doctor of my mother’s dreams.

Here’s some advice, ladies, straight from the lords of the Chateau, and you don’t even have to reverse engineer online dating by making dummy JDate profiles and Excel spreadsheets to benefit from this advice:

1. Don’t get fat.

2. Don’t be ugly.

3. Don’t act like a man or a bitter feminist.

3. Don’t wait until you’re over 30, rode hard and tossed away wet, to start looking for a serious partner worthy of marrying.

See how simple that is? 1,2,3,4. Voila, love! But I suppose the simplicity is the problem for you girls. There’s no way to hamsterize the advice into something palatable to your egos.

PS As a bonus, here’s some CH advice for the men:

1. Don’t be a beta.

2. Don’t act like a woman or a manboob.

3. Learn game, bust a move and date the women you really desire before you’re forced to settle for the above.

Yours in Yahweh,

CH

CH, what is best in life?

To mock your enemies, see them driven to hysterics before you, and to hear the mooing of the fatties.

That is good!

You’re damn right that is good. This post will continue a proud tradition.

***

If someone told me, “Hey, did you know fat women married to in-shape men have worse marriages?”, I would reply “Who doesn’t know that? A man married to a fat sow will be unhappy, and if he has options he’ll start looking elsewhere. Common sense.”

Well, unfortunately for those who are inclined to give the masses the benefit of the doubt, the world isn’t filled with sane people who trust their lying eyes or who grasp rudimentary logic. The world, especially the Western world currently 5,000 feet from terminal velocity impact, is filled with delusional dregs, ego-assuaging equalists, fantasy world feminists, and puling porkers. Great fun if you’re a psyche-smashing sadist; not so much fun for normal people living in post-sanity secular societies who inevitably wind up footing the bills for these loudmouthed  losers.

Hot on the heels of, oh… ballpark estimate… one million previous CH posts about the penalties fat chicks suffer in the dating market and the personal health market (and now, the marriage durability market and happiness market), comes a new study which finds that fat wives of healthy-weight husbands have worse marriages.

Using dyadic models, we found that mixed-weight couples, specifically couples including overweight women and healthy weight men, reported greater conflict both generally and on a daily basis, compared to matched-weight couples; however, general conflict was reduced with greater perceived support from the partner. Mixed-weight couples who reported eating together more frequently also reported greater general conflict. These findings suggest that mixed-weight couples may experience more conflict than matched-weight couples, but perceived support from the partner can buffer this conflict. This research suggests that interpersonal dynamics associated with mixed-weight status might be important for romantic partners’ relational and personal health.

The researchers veer a bit into PC territory in their conclusion, so it will require a truly malevolent force to spell out the take-home lessons of this study in flashing neon lights that no one, not even hare-brained hogs, can possibly misinterpret.

Lesson Number One

Men are repulsed by the sight and feel (and smell) of fat chicks. All further lessons flow from this basic premise.

Lesson Number Two

A man with options to do so will choose a slender babe over a fat chick, EVERY TIME. (Rare exceptions prove the rule. Or: Don’t count on miracles, fatties.)

Lesson Number Three

A man married to a woman who has bloated into Hogzilla proportions will become increasingly unhappy, frustrated and resentful, and will express his displeasure with his fat wife in both passive and active ways.

Lesson Number Four

A fat wife is more harmful than is a fat husband to marital health and happiness. Fatness exacts a bigger toll on a woman’s sexual market value (and, therefore, marital market value) than it does on a man’s sexual and marital market value. Men are more visually oriented than women, and a fat man can compensate for his fatness by being attractive in other ways that women love. Fat women cannot compensate for their fatness except by losing weight and slimming down to a sexy, hourglass shape.

Lesson Number Five

Fat wives increase the odds of spousal adultery and marital dissolution. A wife who lets herself go on piles of cakes and cheesy poofs is primarily responsible for any infidelity her husband commits. Harsh, but true.

Lesson Number Six

A husband will be more likely to love, cherish and support his wife if she is thin. Life is conditional. Stop crying, and deal with it.

Lesson Number Seven

The cure for marital unhappiness and a lowering of the high risk of divorce among fat wife-healthy man couples is the fat wife losing weight until she has regained her attractive, slender, feminine shape. Marriage counselors will invariably bleat tired platitudes about “interpersonal dynamics”, “increasing perceived support”, and “unresolved masculinity issues”, and none of their solutions will work except to line their filthy pockets and turn wives against their husbands. They are worse than useless, because they lead women away from the one tried-and-true solution that *will* fix their marriages: losing weight.

Any questions? Or would you stubborn fatties and fatty apologists prefer the whistling lash upon your stuccoed hides a few more hundred thousand times?

I can already hear the trolls and transparently bad-faith skeptics.

“So fat women should marry fat men. Then all will be good!”

All will be good if you don’t mind living like the walking dead.

Mutually fat couples have no reason to rejoice. While thin husbands are more apt to distance themselves from fat wives, emotionally and sexually, fat husbands feel just as much frustration and resentment. Fat dudes are just as disgusted by fat chicks as are thin dudes. The difference is that fat husbands are less able to act out their frustrations without risking divorce rape and subsequent involuntary celibacy. A man who is forced by his lack of options to settle for a low quality woman will quickly acclimate himself to his dour circumstances, or suffer daily blows to his ego no man could withstand for long without the assistance of soothing psychological contrivances. The Acclimated Man (a subspecies of The Manipulated Man) will then become a simulacrum of the fox who cried sour grapes because he couldn’t grab the juicy fruit dangling just out of reach.

“I’m a thin woman reading CH for the rapturous tingles it inspires in my vaginal core, and all my (carefully screened) girl friends are thin, so how bad could this problem be?”

The Walking Fed

See here for an animated map going back to 1985. Gripping (gimping?) stuff.

“Fatness is genetic. Fat chicks can’t do anything about it.”

Bullshit on stilts. See above graph. There’s no way fat crappery can increase that much in a population of hundreds of millions in the span of 25 years by genetic selection alone. The best the “fat gene” crowd can argue is that most humans are wired to put on excess weight in an environment of plentiful sugar-rich, high glycemic index carb food and sedentary lifestyles. That isn’t the same as saying fat people have fat genes rendering them immune to efforts at long-term weight loss. What it means is that fatsos have to stop eating pastries and pasta, and start getting off their double wide asses and moving their limbs more than they do when reaching like an obese infant for a cookie on the kitchen countertop. The worst of them could begin their training by discarding the Walmart scooters for walking.

No fat gene hypothesis is needed to explain the growing army of lardbuckets and the shitty marriages they leave in their battle cruiser wakes. The answer is staring everyone in the face. The reason there are so many fat chicks in the world, and particularly in America, is because THEY CHOOSE THE PLEASURES OF FOOD AND IDLENESS OVER THE PLEASURES OF PLEASING MEN. That’s it, fatties. You choose… poorly. And you *will* pay the consequences. Forever. Or at least until you push away from the table.

“Thin, attractive wives sometimes suffer spousal infidelity and emotional coldness, too. So how can you say fat is the problem?”

This is the mirror image of the MGTOW false dichotomy fallacy (“If you hit on women, you are a beta because you have to put in effort to meet them.”) Feminists often employ this tactical fallacy when confronted by bleedingly obvious facts of human nature that remind them of their low status in the sexual value hierarchy. Just as MGTOWs, handicapped by their shut-in, stunted understanding of the innate differences between men and women, can’t fathom how a man can be both alpha and happy to approach and seduce women he desires, so too do feminists and their ilk betray a studied lack of comprehension about the effects that women’s degree of desirability has on men’s motivations.

A feminist sees a slender girl get cheated on by her asshole boyfriend, and the feminist’s stretch garment, Möbius strip mind promptly infers that being thin and sexy offers no more protection from infidelity than does being fat and gross. The feminist does not explore other, more likely, possibilities, such as the idea that hot babes are more likely to hook up with alpha males who have more temptations to suppress, or that the thin wife who suffered her husband’s infidelity probably would have suffered a lot more of his infidelities, and a lot earlier in the marriage, had she been overweight instead.

“But I read somewhere that fat people live longer than thin people?”

Not so fast. One dubious meta-analysis that contradicts literally thousands of individual studies showing the deleterious effects of fatness on health should not inspire confidence that being fat is A-Ok. However, let’s assume for the purposes of troll patronizing that overweight people really do “”"live”"” longer than thin people. Suffice to say, such extended longevity would come at a cost. There are the healthcare expenditures to treat all the illnesses that arise from being fat, of course. Then there’s the fact that most people would prefer a quality life as a thin person that ends, at last, rather peacefully in deep sleep, rather than a stricken life as a fatso waddling out an extra year or two on one diabetic foot and aching joints, wheezing and puffing and pants-pissing recklessly because any visible signs of graspable genitalia were lost long ago.

There is furthermore the obvious point that none of this feeble protesting about the supposed lack of health consequences of fatness has anything to do with the topic under discussion, which is that fat women repulse and drive away their husbands. Even if fat women are the healthiest people in the world and will all live to 110, that doesn’t change the fact that they are aesthetically repulsive to nearly all men. Thin people outcompete fat people in the dating market in the ways that matter because people, all kinds of people at all kinds of weights, prefer to gaze upon the lithe contours of slender bodies (for women) or V-shaped fit bodies (for men) rather than the undulating rolls of blubber on fat people. If fat craps don’t want to lose weight for their health, then they should lose weight for the better impression they’ll leave with others, and especially with those of the opposite sex whom they desire as romantic possibilities.

“Shaming fat women won’t work.”

Oh, really?

A leading health academic has called for fat people to be ‘shamed and beat upon socially’ in order to halt the obesity crisis.

In a controversial article, Daniel Callahan, the 82-year-old president emeritus of The Hastings Center a New York think-tank specializing in health policy ethics, calls for increased stigmatization of obese people to try spur weight-loss across America.

The senior research scholar says fat people should be treated like smokers who have become increasingly demonized in recent years and thus ‘nudged’ by negative attitudes of those around them into giving up the unhealthy habit. [...]

‘The obvious target would be the large number of people who are unaware that they are overweight,’ he writes in the paper printed in the center’s first periodical volume of the year.

‘They need, to use an old phrase, a shock of recognition. Only a carefully calibrated effort of public social pressure is likely to awaken them to the reality of their condition.

Get this hero a free copy of the forthcoming CH book!

Shaming works. If it worked on smokers and “”"racists”"”, it will work on fatties. Shaming isn’t the sole solution to the obesity epidemic, but it is a powerful weapon against the marching manatees. Shaming fat women to lose weight will bring increased happiness to the world, and that’s a utilitarian argument men can spring to life for!

The shaming stick coupled with the encouragement carrot is a potent combo. Be genuinely helpful and complimentary to women who are sincerely making efforts to lose weight. Remind her, in nuanced language as necessary, that a reward of feeling better about herself and having a more exciting (read: more pleasurably orgasmic) dating life await her on the other side where thin women take their desirability for granted. But the carrot should always follow the stick, like you might give a dog a treat only after it has done what you commanded of it. Too little shame, and the carrot becomes an excuse to avoid the hard choices, or to delude oneself that no improvement is needed.

Let’s end on a positive, uplifting note of encouragement: Shame on you, fatties! Shame! Shame! Look at yourselves. You’re all a bunch of triple decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwiches wrapped in a casing of subhuman sausage flesh. Blue whales sonically laugh at you. Your smegma hiding stomach folds have spawned a new species of armored crevice mice who nibble on your mouth droppings. Your pets eagerly await the feast that will accompany your untimely sofa-bound death. You are the reason a cottage industry of ass-wiping implements exists. The sight of your dumpy hind quarters can reduce a porn star’s viagra- and yohimbe-fueled hard-on to an inverted micropenis in less than a second. Whole villages of gnomes have been found ‘twixt your enormous buttocks. When you pinch a loaf, sewage treatment plants go code red. Your clitorii can fill hot dog buns. Your manboobs can spray milk from ten yards. You sicken me. You sicken everyone. Admit it, you even sicken yourselves. For shaaaaaaaaaaaame.

PS Since lower class women are fatter than upper class women, (smart ladies know what matters in the big picture), it behooves all men of taste who care about preserving pleasing female forms to engage in noblesse oblige, before the habits of the lessers percolate upward and become the habits of the betters, or what zee French call noblesse obese. There used to be a grand Iron Junk tradition where higher class men would scavenge lower class women for their pretty secretaries and nurses, because upper class women tend also to be battle-axes and egregious status whores. And the lower class women, for their part, loved that system. What cute, economically depressed girl wouldn’t relish an opportunity for love with a charming Gatsbian? But now, these men have nowhere to turn for tender female company; the lower classes have become untouchable, in the strictest sense of the word. So this is why the CH anti-fatass campaign is both pro-man *and* pro-woman… and pro-egalitarian! Making lower class women attractive again will help break down class divisions. Never let it be said the Oracles of the House of Heartiste aren’t generous of heart and willing to share their bounty with the rabble.

Back in September of 2012, CH highlighted a study which showed that modern couples who share the housework are at far higher risk of divorce than couples where the woman does most of the domestic duties.

Divorce rates are far higher among “modern” couples who share the housework than in those where the woman does the lion’s share of the chores, a Norwegian study has found.

In what appears to be a slap in the face for gender equality, the report found the divorce rate among couples who shared housework equally was around 50 per cent higher than among those where the woman did most of the work.

Women have been claiming for God knows how long that they want a man who will do his share of the housework, but when he does, their vaginas dry up like the Sahara. You see, equality of the sexes is a myth. Women don’t *really* want equal husbands. What women want are strong husbands who don’t act like women, which means, in practice, not puttering around the house dusting, mopping, vacuuming, cooking, or doing the laundry.

Right on cue, feminists plugged their ears. The ones who stumbled into this happy hating ground tore at their pendulous breasts. Even the trolls had no room to maneuver a subterfuge.

As good as that post was, there is a new study out which may trump it in delicious equalist-eviscerating goodness. Following in the same vein as the study above, researchers discovered that married men who do more housework have less sex.

Husbands who spend more time doing traditionally female chores — such as cooking, cleaning, and shopping — reported having less sex than those who do more masculine tasks, said the study in the American Sociological Review.

“Our findings suggest the importance of socialized gender roles for sexual frequency in heterosexual marriage,” said lead author Sabino Kornrich, of the Center for Advanced Studies at the Juan March Institute in Madrid.

“Couples in which men participate more in housework typically done by women report having sex less frequently. Similarly, couples in which men participate more in traditionally masculine tasks — such as yard work, paying bills, and auto maintenance — report higher sexual frequency.” [...]

“The results suggest the existence of a gendered set of sexual scripts, in which the traditional performance and display of gender is important for creation of sexual desire and performance of sexual activity,” Kornrich said.

When men are men and women are women, the sex is more frequent. And probably hotter, too. When men are scalzied manboobs and women are manjawed feminists, the bedroom is an arid wasteland of dashed passion.

Sexual polarity — the primal force that adheres the cosmic cock to the celestial snatch — is the truth of truths that belies every feminist assertion ever made in the history of that insipid, leprotic ideology. May the losers of the world quake and fall to their knees before its divine directive.

This isn’t a truth borne of social constructs, or of cultural conditionings, or of privileges of privilege. It’s a truth woven into the fabric of our origin atoms, the glue that binds our helical commandments and reaches outward to breathe life into the monolith of our souls.

It is what is.

The “correlation is not causation” crowd will surely attempt a say with this study, but you know what? It won’t matter whether it’s a primarily correlational or causal force which accounts for the reality of this particular intrinsic sex-based dynamic. If you are a man interested in sparking your flailing marriage and reigniting your wife’s dying lust, and you have come here to the Chateau for guidance, I will tell you to put down the vacuum and laundry detergent and take up the power tools and lawn mower. Leave the womanly domestic chores for your woman, and the manly handyman chores for yourself. Do this, and your sex life will improve. I promise. And it won’t matter if it improved because you fixed a correlational or a causal upstream factor of your marital woes. You will have realigned the sexual polarity, and even a hardcore feminist’s vagina can’t resist the allure of that naturally evolved gender construct.

I really love these sorts of shivtastic studies. It’s almost as if Science approached the doors of Chateau Heartiste, asked to be let in, peered and poked around, and solemnly announced, “This house is clean”.

And if you are a sexy man, it will have been your wife who cleaned it.

PS Two of the authors of the original study are surnamed Sweet and Bumpass. Sweet. Bumpass. Sweet Bumpass. Yes. Sweet Bumpass? Meet Purple Saguaro. Sweet Bumpass and Purple Saguaro? Meet Skittles Man. Sweet Bumpass, Purple Saguaro and Skittles Man? Meet the Rationalization Hamster. And on the eighth day, CH rested.

Khaaaaan has a post up about a German study which purports to show that the cuckoldry rate — situations where the presumed father is not the biological father of the child — in Germany is around 1%. (Via Glpiggy.)

A few words on that. First, misattribution of paternity can occur in any number of ways. Steve Sailer left some good comments over at Khan’s blog that illustrate in real life, flesh and blood scenarios how cuckoldry rates can be misattributed. Nevertheless, I’m not here to argue that the 1% figure is wrong. In fact, the 1% figure is higher than I assumed. Look at it this way: That recorded 1% cuckoldry rate is more than 30 TIMES the US recorded rape rate of 0.03%.

Besides the actual rate, there are other angles to this id-loaded topic that are worth exploring.

A flaw in assuming present-day cuckoldry rates align with historical cuckoldry rates is the fairly recent widespread availability of contraceptives and abortion. How many women who sleep with interloper males are using birth control? Probably most, and more so if those women are higher SES. How many are aborting the fetus, should contraception fail or not be used, before hubby finds out or is doomed to raise a child as an unwitting cuckold? Again, I’d guess most. That 1% figure may simply be a reflection of the fact that cheap and effective modern contraceptives bite into a possibly larger historical cuck rate. And since our sexual natures are the product of millions of years of fine-tuning, it would make sense for male jealousy and mate-guarding instincts to have evolved, especially if the real cuckoldry rate (and not just the “don’t worry, I’m on the Pill” shadow cuckoldry rate in which the act is performed but the consequence is averted) in the environment of evolutionary adaptation was considerably higher than 1%.

Or: Don’t start hedging your bets that women are no more than 1% evil.

Then there is the issue of serial monogamy. Serial monogamy is much more the norm now than it was in the past. Women on second marriages (or on post-divorce second dating lives) bring their kids from the first marriage into any new relationship. As much as the new boyfriend or husband might not want those bastards around him, he is going to participate in their raising in some form or another if he plans on banging out the mother for any length of time greater than two weeks. He is, in effect, a de facto cuckold, albeit an informed and, presumably, voluntary one. (Though the definition of voluntary is a bit loose when one is put in the position of weighing the odds of future fux against the pain of supporting present bastards. Duress matters if you are a desperate beta male willing to put up with snot-nosed shit to get some floppy, aged action.)

Women, too, are subject to unwelcome participation in the raising of unrelated children if they are in second relationships with divorced single dads, but in practice this punishment is not meted out to women nearly as often as it is to men, because it is usually the ex-wife who has full-time custody of her kids, or the single mom who is solely raising her hatchlings, and hence it is usually the sloppy seconds beta male who is getting the screws by groveling for sexual relief from these SMV leftovers.

So there are really two kinds of cuckoldry: De facto and deceptive. The latter is far worse from a moral calculus (it really is the equivalent of female rape, except the pain is dragged out over eighteen years) but the former is no less an indictment of the growing dysfunction of the modern sexual market.

In the March 2013 Beta of the Month contest, nominee #2 was a plush squeezable who constructed a twelve day extravaganza proposal for his chubby girlfriend, filmed it and set it to music by twelve indie band drummers (which must have cost a pretty penny, if they weren’t doing it as a favor for him). Commenter RappaccinisDaughter suggested a motivation for these elaborate proposal rituals:

The epic-proposal guy is forgivable because there’s kind of a cultural push in certain circles to plan ever-more-elaborate proposals. It’s more of a dick-measuring contest than anything else. He’s establishing among his circle that he’s the most clever, thoughtful, meticulous one among them.

Male status whoring? No. Men status whore by parading a hot babe on their arms. That’s how they deliver in the most direct manner possible the message that they have the goods to outcompete other men. No man that I know is impressed by a creatively exhaustive epic proposal event. If anything, men feel the opposite feeling when they are exposed to these courtship calisthenics by princess pedestalizing suck-up chumps: they feel disgust. Repugnance. Pity. Even contempt. No man watches one of these Cannes Film Festival proposals and thinks to himself, “Now there’s a high status alpha male I’d like to emulate.”

Usually what they’re saying to themselves instead is something like, “What a tool. She’s already got his balls in a jar.”

The reason is simple: Men sacrifice more by committing to marriage. It is the woman who is “alpha” for successfully extracting commitment from a man. A man who gives up his commitment is the equivalent of a woman who gives up her pussy; no skill involved, so no reflection on their respective statuses.

Here’s a better theory to explain the recent surge in elaborate, saccharine proposals:

It’s mate guarding behavior by beta males.

The beta male is essentially signaling to potential male competitors that his wife-to-be was so ostentatiously wooed by him she will never entertain the thought of cheating with another man, so don’t bother. He has her on “lock-down“. The elaborate proposal is also a mate guarding signal to the girlfriend that the beta male will jealously patrol the boundaries of his one-woman harem. It is perhaps even a signal to other women that he has enough energy to sustain the company of a mistress, although I would expect this latter reason to be more indicative of the machinations of a greater beta or alpha male.

Why would the elaborate proposal surge in frequency and fussiness in our current dystopian Beaver Runner society? Well, extreme mate guarding behavior is what you find in societies where paternity guarantee is low, fidelity guarantee is low, and cock carousel cad hopping risk is high. Or at least the normal social constraints on cock carouseling are loosened. Beta males in such societies are horribly outgunned by sexy cads, because the usual leverage that beta males bring to the marital table — their resources — has been devalued by women’s economic self-sufficiency and generous state and corporate largesse.

The game insight here should be clear: don’t mate guard. Or, more precisely, don’t transparently mate guard. If you mate guard, you signal your betatude. The more diligently you mate guard, the more your girl will perceive you as having few mate options other than herself, and her labia will wither like rose petals in a Texas drought. Because chicks dig dudes who could fuck other chicks if they had a mind to.

So Tamerlan Tsarnaev, the older Muslim Boston bomber brother, had a loving white American wife of WASPy lineage who donned his approved Islamic head coverage and bore him his hell-spawnage. Some have asked, where was Katherine Russell’s father during her descent into badboy servitude? If the photo of the dad after news of Tamerlan’s death is any indication, the guy is giddy that his son-in-law is no longer for this world.

Arranged marriages don’t sound like much fun, but one problem with moving as a culture toward exclusively love-based marriage is that it neuters the ability of parents to exert any control over their daughters’ instinctual romantic compulsions. The ancients knew that women’s libidos were dangerous when left unchecked. But a culture that prizes doe-eyed love as the be-all and end-all of legitimate marriage must come to terms with the fact that many women love the wrong kinds of men. It’s in their genes.

When lust-fueled love as a basis for forming putative lifelong marital unions crowds out all other considerations, the influence that parents wield over their daughters’ mate choices gets winnowed as well. After all, who is a parent to say what his or her daughter feels? Love knows no reason. And so what you get is fathers like the one above, powerless to stop his daughter’s stupid decisions, and overjoyed when fate steps in to excise the cancer from his family that he wished he could excise himself, but never had the guts nor the informal societal support to do so.

Love makes betas of men, in more ways than one, and it would be wise to remember that some of those men are fathers whose authority has been gutted by the awesome power of love.

Some religious organizations have long argued that widespread contraception use leads to higher divorce rates because severing the connection between sex and procreation also severs the emotional connection between spouses. The duty one feels to one’s spouse is weakened when the primal bonds of sex and the consequences which normally follow in the state of nature are thwarted.

They may have a point, but I’m going to present what I believe is a more compelling reason why contraception use (predominately the Pill) and divorce track each other so closely. For a graphical representation of how closely the rate of Pill usage and the rate of divorce have tracked over time, see this (original source here):

That five year lag time between the rise in pill use and divorce is critical. It’s solid evidence that once women had the Pill down their throats, they began escaping their marriages in droves.

The Pill is one of the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse. Like opening Clamdora’s Box, the Pill is one of the six crimson spirits that now haunt the world and visit upon the civilized West far-reaching unintended (and perhaps intended) negative effects. Why would Pill usage contribute to a rise in the divorce rate? For an answer to that, you have to look to women first, and how the Pill alters their perceptions of men.

And what the Pill does to women’s brains is… how shall we say… veeeery interestink. Women on the Pill experience a shift in their mate selection criteria and begin to prefer plodding dads over plotting cads. Actually, not so much prefer boring betas as avoid sexy alphas.

Extrapolating from this premise is enlightening. What do most delicious SWPL sluts women using oral contraceptives do once they get married, or not long after getting married? That’s right, they go off the Pill so that they can start a family. And what happens when women go off the Pill? Their hindbrains shed the fog of feeling satisfied with beta male cuddles and revert to adoring sexy alpha male power thrusts, and that adoration reaches maximum cervical impact one week per month when fertile.

So perhaps the Pill and its relation to divorce is not so much about severing emotional connections as it is about reconstructing sexual connections. The wife whose lust is freed from the false prison of the Pill will suddenly, and quite inexplicably to her conscious evaluation, discover her beta husband — the man who fulfilled her in most ways when she was on the Pill — is sexually repulsive. This disgust will reach a crescendo 25% of the time of her pre-menopausal life, and she will either succumb to cheating with a more dominant man, or she will do the “right thing” and leave a marriage that is making her unhappy because her beta betrothed-turned-beta bother doesn’t know how to “communicate” with her and “meet her needs”.

And of course the beta hubschlub, tricked by the Pill’s abetting and steeped in his anti-male culture and believing everything the wife wants is good and true and everything the husband wants is wicked and false, will do the EXACT OPPOSITE of what he should do to reignite his wife’s post-Pill listing libido. He will crank up the beta, figuring that more of what sealed the deal in the first place is just the medicine to prevent the deal from breaking.

And he will be sorely mistaken, and for his good-faith efforts at reconciliation against the headwinds of unacknowledged and often heatedly denied biological reality the state will reward him with a family court ass-ramming so deep and girthful he will come to accept as a means of psychological emollient that his life is rightfully meant to be a dutifully suffered shitfest endured with stiff upper lip. And then he will be a dead man walking.

The problem of post-Pill wives losing their desire for their husbands is so bad that drug companies are trying to create a compensating pill — call it the Thrill — that will reinvigorate flagging female libidos. The intention is to cure “hypoactive sexual-desire disorder,” aka HSDD, by tapping into the primal recesses of the female brain and manipulating lustful brain lobes into activity.

The Thrill may work, but I bet not in the way the researchers intend. This is because the “problem” is not so much low female libido, but low female libido for their betaboy husbands. The added clause is crucial. A pill that fuels female clit boners will reawaken women… straight into the arms of interloper alpha males. Imagine a world of supercharged horny housewives boffing everyone in sight. Shit just got a lot more interesting.

A Thrill pill that tricks wives into perceiving their beta husbands as sexy romance novel stranger-from-afar badboy alphas may or may not work to strengthen the institution of marriage, but I can tell you one intervention that is GUARANTEED to help your marriage: Game. Specifically, dread game. A small adjustment in your mentality and behavior toward being more of an alpha male can gain you all the benefits of a thrill pill-popping wife with none of the dangerous side effects.

A reader writes,

If this isn’t a bad prognostication for a marriage, then I don’t know what is.

A friend of mine recently tied the knot with his college girlfriend. I admittedly do not know the bride very well, but generally she can be controlling and tough to warm up to. When you look at the picture attached, it’s apparent she hasn’t even warmed up to…her own husband.

Yes, that’s the couple’s first official kiss as a married couple. Except it’s not a kiss. His bride denied him, physically pushed him away, and proceeded to give him the cheek when he awkwardly went in for the kiss.

Seeing him, pathetically and helplessly, hunched over like that on top of his wife fills me with pity. If his wife can’t even comply to her man on their wedding day what hope is there in the future. Any takers on how long into the marriage before she starts withholding sex?

Also, as you can see in the photos the wedding was presided not by a priest, but by the bride’s fatass sister.

I’ve been to a fair number of weddings, and I’ve never seen a blushing bride’s visceral distaste for her husband quite this transparently revealed. Most women who have hornswoggled a beta provider with tacit promises of endless hot marital sex have enough self-control and presence of mind to at least make a show of it when witnesses are present, even if that show is nothing more than a quick, pursed lip kiss followed by a rapid whole body turn to relievedly face the cameras. But I suppose when the star witness is your fat sister with a Unitardian Ministry Certificate from E-Cunts.com, no one really gives a shit that you recoil when your husband kamikazes with moist chimp lips but winds up smacking air. It’s all fun and games until he’s pulling his pud to porn six months into a sexless marriage, and contemplating suicide-by-family-court five years in.

I bet the bachelorettes all wore vintage Great Bonghits For Men T-shirts at the bitchelorette party that said ALPHA FUX, BETA BUX.

(Speaking of, you can trace the accelerating decline of America to the point in cultural history when the bachelorette party surpassed the bachelor party in significance.)

Proof, as if any more were needed, that getting a woman to marry you is not hard. What’s hard is getting a woman to love you.

UPDATE

The reader who sent in the pics relays the following:

fwiw i was definitively told the pictures i submitted to you were the initial pictures of the brides reaction to the kiss and any other photos were after that fact.

All right, folks. There it is. You may now return to your regularly scheduled food fight.

Is it really good for the children to see their father so pathetically emasculated on a daily basis? That’s the question that swirls around July’s Beta of the Month candidate, a broken man who continues living under the same roof (for which he likely foots the full bill) with his happy ex-wife in a refitted “divorce house” that’s partitioned down the middle.

Monica McGrath and Kent Kirkland are divorced parents of two young children. They live in one house with their children, call themselves friends and borrow sugar from one another.

The Edmonton family gained Canada-wide recognition this month after media attention turned to their family set-up and living arrangements. Part of this attention was due to their custom-built “transporter” house, with two separate sides and a hallway connecting them, but also because they’re doing what many separated couples say they want to do; put the kids first. [...]

Their family model is a version of a “bird’s nest” arrangement where children stay in the house, while separated or divorced parents come to them. Some see this as a model that helps minimize disruption for children. It means they don’t have to be uprooted, trekking from one parent’s house to another’s on a regular basis. Although this model is still rare, experts say it has become increasingly common over the last 10 years. [...]

The adults live on separate sides of the house with a wall between them. Their children’s bedrooms are at one end of the house and connect to both sides through a hallway with a door to mom’s side and a door to dad’s side. The parents alternate childcare week by week. When it’s one parent’s week, the other locks their hallway door.

“They’re both a lot happier now,” Mr. Kirkland says of their children. “Now if they want to see mom, it’s really easy for them to do it.”

Everyone in this family is smiling except for the house eunuch:

Details of his lurid soul castration follow.

They separated in 2010 and have already crossed the hurdle of dating other people, though both are currently single. Ms. McGrath and Mr. Kirkland say that their family arrangement takes priority and that a new partner would need to respect this.

Nine times out of ten in similar situations it’s the ex-wife who’s doing the banging with newly acquired pump and dumpers while the ex-husband has to stuff his ears with pillows to block the thumping moans of sex emanating through the walls.

But as might be expected, there are cons that come with living next door to your ex.

“The emotional side of things…” says Mr. Kirkland. “As Monica put it, there are still feelings and not all of them positive feelings.”

The only sure cure for an ex-wife is moving out of the country and covering all your tracks. Or, you can be all the beta you wanna be and share an exquisitely demarcated home with an ex-wife who loves taking photos of your hang-dog face to show the world how much she has your balls in a vise.

In related news, the West is still collapsing. Event horizon endgame should be any day now.

New research examining marital patterns in the Disunited States is out, and it’s not looking good for the nuptial blissers (or for the civilization gatekeepers).

Marriage Rate Lowest in a Century

Fewer women are getting married and they’re waiting longer to tie the knot when they do decide to walk down the aisle. That’s according to a new Family Profile from the National Center for Family and Marriage Research (NCFMR) at Bowling Green State University.

According to “Marriage: More than a Century of Change,” the U.S. marriage rate is 31.1, the lowest it’s been in over a century. That equals roughly 31 marriages per 1,000 married women. Compare that to 1920, when the marriage rate was a staggering 92.3.

Since 1970, the marriage rate has declined by almost 60 percent. “Marriage is no longer compulsory,” said Dr. Susan Brown, co-director of the NCFMR. “It’s just one of an array of options. Increasingly, many couples choose to cohabit and still others prefer to remain single.”

Furthermore, a woman’s average age at first marriage is the highest it’s been in over a century, at nearly 27 years old. “The age at first marriage for women and men is at a historic highpoint and has been increasing at a steady pace,” states Dr. Wendy Manning, co-director of the Center.

Well, that’s one way to avoid the temptation to cheat and deep six your marriage: Get married when you’re older and have fewer sexual market options.

There has also been a dramatic increase in the proportion of women who are separated or divorced. In 1920, less than 1 percent of women held that distinction. Today, that number is 15 percent. “The divorce rate remains high in the U.S., and individuals today are less likely to remarry than they were in the past,” reports Brown.

Welcome to the Eat, Pray, Love iteration of America: E – Eat ourselves to death. P – Pray we still got it. L – Love our cats.

The marriage rate has declined for all racial and ethnic groups, but the greatest decline is among African Americans. Similarly, the education divide in marriage has grown. In the last 50 years there have been only modest changes in the percentage of women married among the college educated and the greatest declines among women without a high school diploma.

It’s ironic that the pointless lib-arts over-education that correlates with women getting married also correlates with them staying childless. Meanwhile, Clevon and Anfernee pop out ten parasites by their single mom weekday flings. What was the whole point of marriage, again? To encourage and sanctify responsible procreation and child-rearing, right? No, no, how silly of me. Times have changed. Marriage is now all about celebrating multiple forms of love, like butthex and cuckold fetishism and, coming soon to a Detroit near you, polygamy.

Was Idiocracy just about the most prescient movie ever made?

None of this depressing news should be any surprise to regular guests of Le Chateau. We were the first to make the connection between the social rot and the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse, and we will be the first to rub it in the faces of the lords of lies when this whole shit show comes perilously close to oozing in on their guarded gated communities.

In silver lining news, casual, no strings attached sex with smart, sassy white chicks has never been easier to get.

Many of us have seen examples of this — the silent suffering of the married castrati — in our social circles. Via reader Dan.

No doubt the husband happily acquiesced to this fun game with his wife, only dimly aware of its dark intimations of his sacklessness. But this is what happens in most marriages — a slow snuffing out of the husband’s penile prerogative to his wife’s enveloping vaginal jurisdiction over everything that truly matters to him. When women achieve their nuptial dreams and all incentives to please are stripped from their lives, supine beta provider hubbies are reduced to begging for pussy scraps. No self-abnegation is too low, nor any promise of indentured servitude too exorbitant, for the beta hubby caught in the marital trap of his own making.

And yet, time and again we have all seen and known of married men who assume the rump-raised position with an eagerness that defies good sense. Why do so many men willfully, even joyfully, put their balls in the vice? Why do they make a spectacle of their emasculation for the hoots and hollers of the entertained public? Why do they revel in their genital dispossession, like some psychologically cleaved Stockholm Syndrome sufferer?

Certainly, some of these men are very high value alpha males for whom a little self-deprecation helps to right the marital ship of love. Men with options beyond the wife to whom they’re shackled find much benefit to assuaging their wive’s anxieties. Poking fun at themselves helps in this regard to keep their days free of drama and jealous blow-ups.

But the majority of the married castrati are not in their sorry roles by choice. They are there by necessity. They beg because the nourishment of life — a woman’s sex — is not freely given them. They then try to spin their woeful conditions into a dignified valence with pretensions of joint accommodation.

Worse, is the father who thinks his obeisance to mommy leaves his children with some sort of righteous life lesson, as if the self-demoralization with a smile teaches his sons how better to navigate future romantic shoals or his daughters how to act when the time comes like a loving, supportive wife. No, the lesson imparted will be quite the opposite, and the family lineage will disintegrate in time as a consequence.

There are men who can handle the peculiar demands of marriage without sacrificing their balls to the cutter, but those men seem by the year to number fewer still. The tragedy is that it doesn’t have to be this way for the silent castrati. A little knowledge of game, or even an elementary grasp of female sexual psychology, and the marital script can be quite easily flipped, even in the face of a malevolent divorce court juggernaut that loves giving the screws to hapless beta males.

A little game, and gone will be the days of cleaning up baby’s puke for a week to “earn” a blowjob from a bitch who’d be perfectly happy never giving her husband another hummer for the rest of his life. Gone, to be replaced by happy and heady days of wonder, when the wife not only stops making her sex a quid pro quo, but begs to please her husband as the ancient religious texts the world over so command of her.

First things first. Tear down that sticker chart.

Kindred stone cold truth tellers occasionally like to rib your humble galactic overlord by pointing out that social survey data shows that beta males have more kids than alpha males as the latter are commonly recognized, and that this means betas aren’t really betas. I respond, with amused mastery, that having kids is no measure of a man’s alphaness, especially not in this day and age of brat-thwarting contraception.

But there’s more contradicting the speciousness of this “kids = alpha male” line of thought than just the expectation-busting effect of contraception. To give the readers a clue into why it’s so wrong-headed to assume fatherhood is a default alpha state, read this story.

The guy has two (putative) sons by his parrot-faced wife, yet she does no housework, doesn’t cook, and only has sex with him on his birthday, and then not even every birthday. A bit of an extreme example of a neglectful, sex-withholding wife, but the extremes illuminate what it’s like for the mediocre masses of married men who suffer similar torments, albeit less spectacularly, at the hands of their ingrate wives who prefer to diddle to vampire porn.

So, yeah, you can snag yourself a fading beauty eager to accomplish the goal of popping out some rugrats with a man she can feel certain will do as he’s told, but don’t for a second think that “”"achievement”"” makes you an alpha male. The alpha male may or may not get married, may or may not have kids, but rest assured he’s not begging like a dog for pellets of pussy chow or listlessly shuffling around the house in an apron holding a dust buster.

Oh no, just the opposite; the wife of an alpha male is throwing herself at him because she can’t get enough of his undomesticated dongle.

In related beta male news, a new study found that upwards of 70% of couples are not with their true loves and are just “making do”. So sad. Game can help men find and keep their true love instead of settling for any girl who will take them. Game is pro-love. Game will get you closer to God.

Recall the Chateau Heartiste description of feminism:

The goal of feminism is to remove all constraints on female sexuality while maximally restricting male sexuality.

If you examine feminist ideas in detail, most of them amount to justifications for the above formulation. A feminist utopia is one in which women, particularly ugly women, have limitless options in the sexual and economic markets while men’s options are curtailed to the fullest extent possible. (Which would necessarily have to be the case, since a low value woman can’t have increased sexual options — i.e., amplified hypergamy — without negatively affecting the options of a man with similar SMV.)

Eager to prove the CH elucidation of their ultimate goals correct, feminists and their psychotherapist allies are now pushing to sanction female infidelity.

But recently, a handful of therapists have started to push the idea that affairs can rescue a marriage and to define exactly in what instances that might be true. “People shriek and cry when they are confronted with an affair,” Brown writes in her essay, “The Affair as a Catalyst for Change,” which appears in the book Infidelity“Almost never do they realize that it might be the best thing that ever happened to them.”

Last year’s annual conference of the American Family Therapy academy allowed a panel about affairs called “From Trauma to Transformation,” which was the first time that idea officially entered the lexicon, says Esther Perel, author of Mating in Captivity and a couples therapist who is writing her next book on affairs. It was public and professional acceptance for the idea that an “affair doesn’t necessarily end a marriage and can possibly make it stronger.”

Ignore the psychobabble. It’s smoke and mirrors meant to distract from what the real intention of this change in judgment signifies. What feminists are attempting to do here is nothing short of legitimize the biologically innate female imperative to fuck alpha males during ovulation and extract resources from beta males during infertile periods of the monthly cycle. CH predicted it: Feminists and various “health professionals” would agitate to normalize the “alpha fux, beta bux” female mating strategy. As society becomes ever more feminized and emasculated, expect to see more of these rancid ideas percolate in mainstream discussion, as the pro-female directive and anti-male directive reach their demonic apotheoses.

You might say, “Well, this means men can be unfaithful without consequence, too!” Oh, ye of precious naivete. Men won’t be let off the hook. The divorce industrial and family court complexes are rigged against the interests of men, and getting more rigged by the day. An army of leftoids fed on the swill of legalese will barely break a sweat holding the contradictory beliefs that women cheat for good reasons and men cheat because they’re oppressive patriarchs.

Eventually, with the help of dazzling sophistry, the law will be twisted to such a warped geometry that the people will come to accept injustice as fairness and lies as truth. And those who bitterly cling to old-fashioned notions of justice will be scorned as rubes and cast out of polite society, their reputations and livelihoods destroyed with the ease of smashing an insect.

The irony of this feminism-inspired dross is that a case can be made that male infidelity might very well enhance marital stability, over the long term. Men are naturally disposed to seek and enjoy mate variety, and men are better than women at maintaining multiple lovers without sacrificing love or duty for any one of them. This is because men, unlike women, can easily sever sex from emotional connection. A cheating husband who gets his sexual needs met will feel less resentment toward his frigid wife. A cheating wife, in contrast, will feel more resentment for her beta husband who will assume the role for her of the man “keeping her from happiness”. There’s a reason “eat, pray, love” is marketed to the fantasies of women.

This isn’t to suggest that excusing male infidelity is good for the institution of marriage and the sustenance of an advanced, high trust civilization. Only that, if we are to set down this road of rationalizing the benefits of infidelity, it makes a lot more sense to grant husbands the generous latitude to pursue extramarital pleasures than it does to grant wives that same freedom. The consequences of wifely betrayal are a lot worse. (“but… the kiiid is not my son. woo hoo hoo”)

Feminism is the sick, wheezing spawn of its parent ideology, equalism, the belief in a magical flying spaghetti monster that imbues all humans with equal ability and equal worth, interchangeable flesh cogs that can as easily master astrophysics as lawn care given the right dose of self-esteem boosting pablum.

Whatever the self-professed noble intentions of their advocates, these ideologies are as wicked and destructive as any genocidal revolutions that have come before them. This is why CH, a citadel firm, guarded by sentries of ancient woods, illuminating a path to enlightenment, will never cease in its mission to utterly crush evil, sick ideologies like feminism so totally that there is no space for even the ashes of its immolation to gather in a stiff wind. Feminism’s proponents will suffer endless ridicule should they choose to fight, or they will retreat from the public square to lick their wounds in the comfort of their silent seething thoughts. And, if the spoils of victory are rich indeed, some will self-deliver to release the pain.

In related shivving, here’s a video of Hanna Rosin’s family engaged in a mock trial about the superiority of girls to boys. On the next episode of “The Hanna Propaganda Hour”: My boy’s first sexual identity crisis!

Remember Ice Cream Guy who jerked his ice cream cone away from his girlfriend when she reached over with a spoon to take a scoop? The good and the great were offended by this raw moment of microalphatude, but CH guests of honor knew better. This guy had his girlfriend wrapped around his finger. So wrong, he could do no wrong.

Well, Ice Cream Guy is back in the news. The couple was on TV recently as “Fans of the Week”, and the pre-game hosts were giving Jake — he of ice cream guardianship fame — a hard time. He was ribbed “when’s the wedding?”, and in true alpha style he responded, “Ohhh, shit.”

Another quickie microalphatude dropped like a daisy cutter on his Daisy, and naturally she reacted by… waaaiiit for it…

… can you guess?

…yeah that’s right, by gazing at him adoringly.

His “oh shit” reaction was spontaneous, but neophytes to game should know that alpha spontaneity comes with practicing the behaviors that distinguish alpha males. What was once canned will, over time, start to spill from your presence unbidden. Fake it till you create it.

There are other alpha male tells in this video, which the learned reader should be able to easily identify, so I won’t belabor them here. (Ok, here’s one: notice their body language. She is turned slightly toward him, leaning into his body, while his torso is pointed straight ahead, neither rejecting nor obsequiously receiving her feral affections. He is a rock, upon which she may lay her loving submission.)

The amoral tale of the tape is that you can get… and keep… a cute girl by acting like God’s gift to women, by doing the opposite of what conventional society advises, and by remaining unapologetic for your JERKBOY CHARISMA. You can even do all this while insouciantly announcing that you’re “too broke” to take your girlfriend to a basketball game. She won’t mind, because she’s in love.

A rich man traded in his old wife for a less old pole dancer. Burned by the $7 million bonanza payout to his ex-wife, the man drew up a pre-nuptial agreement with his stripper girlfriend before marrying her.

He married [the stripper] Ms Stelzer in October 2005, but not before a pre-nuptial agreement was signed, stating that Ms Stelzer would receive $3.25 million if the marriage broke down in the first four years.

I bet you can’t guess what happened.

They separated after two.

I used to be amazed how unbelievably stupid smart men could be when dealing with women who make their dicks hard. Obviously this guy was smart enough to amass a small fortune. Also as obvious, he was stupid enough to sign over $3.25 million to a glorified slut with a pre-nup loophole so big she was practically preordained to waltz through it.

Mr Wallace fought to have the pre-nup deemed invalid, claiming that Ms Stelzer behaved fraudulently by making “false promises of love and desire for children”.

“HOW COULD SHE DO THIS TO ME?!?”

Money is not necessarily a marker for alphaness. Many rich men are complete betas. These are the kind of head in the sand romanticists who’ve been spit-shining women’s pedestals since birth, and who really REALLY believe a pole dancer when she tells them she loves them, as the ink is drying on the deal that amounts to a lottery win for her if she bails within four years, with eager assistance, of course, from the anti-male divorce industrial complex.

There are two — just two — safeguards against the insidious predations of women: celibacy, and love. No, not phony declarations of love paid in full with baubles and trinkets. I mean real love, the kind of uncontrollable love women lavish on charming jerkboys. If you have game… if you can play a woman’s heart like a harp… she won’t need to be bought off. She won’t WANT to be bought off. The only scheming she’ll do is convincing her friends and family that you’re really a great guy underneath the rough exterior.

Troubadour resigns himself to winning COTW,

Changing things up deep into a LTR can be tricky, but it works. I’m sitting here with a homemade cake, a card, and a DVD my wife bought me “for the husband I’m so lucky to have,” and she got precisely dick from me in the way of emotion. I gave her a speech about, “Instead of going through the motions of pretending I give a fuck, why don’t I let you spend $150 of your own money on whatever you want. How’s that for a deal?” She accepted, and undoubtedly spent some of the $150 on me to buy the card and the DVD.

I used to make kissing noises and say “I love you” at least 500 times a day. Now I’m looking at having to fuck my wife as a pure cash transaction as the man whore I am. Dump a fuck into Shamu every Sunday night, keep my wood shop and all the rest of my stuff. I hate it, but it’s a practical compromise.

I wonder how many marriages devolve into unhappy semi-extortionate waiting rooms for death? A lot of those striver class SWPLs who marry matte-faced multiple-degreed chubsters to maximize the odds they’ll shit out high IQ wunderkinds capable of competing in the glorious future of globocorpdiversity don’t look all that happy to me. They look more… resigned. Maybe relieved is the optimistic take, but none dare call it passion. Or love.

No need for second place. Tough to follow up this comment.

It’s hardly a secret, even among the SWPL hypocrati, that IQ is important to individual life outcomes, (and, on a grander scale, to a nation’s civilizational supremacy), that it correlates to a host of happy behavioral traits, and that dysgenic mating trends threaten to “decivilize” the West if nothing is done to reverse them. Given these accepted premises, many well-meaning but marginally spergalicious bloggers argue for the glories of assortative mating, (though in point of fact many assortatively sorted couples are meeting based less on shared IQ or unspoken eugenic hopes than on simple segregated convenience). This post may then come as a surprise, advocating as it does for a marital boycott of overeducated women.

IQ (and a woman’s educational level, insofar as the latter is an IQ proxy) is undoubtedly relevant if you’re interested in improving your future kids’ economic prospects, and likely getting more so thanks to increasing occupational cognitive demands, but it isn’t the alpha and omega of the good life. Myopic IQ fetishism notwithstanding, CH has spilled a fair amount of ASCII ink ridiculing equalists who despise the idea of an immutable general factor of intelligence and the consequent futility of public policy that fails to account for its reality. This is because the equalists are today those in power, and thus the most scrumptious targets for the Shiv Wielders.

Implicit or explicit support for assortative mating to boost a country’s “smart fraction” is arid frank & beans counting. Breeding Sorters say we are doomed if we don’t pair off high IQ partners in marriage to make high IQ babies. But there are more things in love and marriage, than are dreamt of in their social science laboratories. And there are more negatives to assortative mating than eugenicist whisperers are willing to admit.

There really is no point to marriage unless one wants children. Absent children, all the good things about marriage can be had in cohabiting relationships. This is even true of raising children if your blood is of Northern European stock, for whom the people of your motherlands demonstrate a facility at successful childrearing in non-marital cohabiting households. (Not to be confused with craptastic American-style single mom households, of which there are blessedly few in Scandinavian countries.)

So a major justification for marriage (and a reminder of the silliness of gay marriage) is that having children within a healthy functioning nuclear family environment benefits their development.

Right there is Problem Number One you’ll encounter if you marry an overeducated woman: She is likely to be far less fecund than less credentialed women. If you want at least the 2.1 kids necessary to replace you and your wife in the next generation, don’t marry a woman with a 4-year college degree and especially not a woman with a doctoral degree. You may as well line the spare bedroom with kitty litter.

Problem Number Two with overeducated women: Over the last 30 years, the happiness of women with graduate degrees has dropped faster than that of women with less than a high school education. (See Table 3, Panel E) The secular trend in happiness is down for women across all educational levels (which is not the case for men), but having more than a four year college degree accelerates the female unhappiness trends to rates above that for high school dropouts. Men are happier when their wives are happier, which means you should avoid marrying a credentialist status whore. And since there is scant evidence that children make you happier, it pays to find a woman who won’t exacerbate an already unhappy prognostication.

Keep in mind, too, that women get a lot unhappier with age than do men. So if you marry a spry 35-year-old post-doc she’s gonna be a real barrel of fun when she’s pushing 50.

Problem Number Three with overeducated women: Pairing them off with smart, accomplished men exacerbates social inequality. And not just because it amplifies white stratification by zip code; it also increases white stratification by IQ (and its attendant cultural fracturing). Society is best served when men with high IQs are free to inject their gifts into the wider world of women, instead of having all that gold-plated DNA locked up in the semi-barren wombs of Ivy Leaguers pushing social constructivism and infinity-wave feminist theory as a day job.

Problem Number Four with overeducated women: They’re sexually frigid. While sex surveys are more prone than any other type of survey to tempt respondents to lie, the results do offer a clue as to which way the tingles vibrate, and according to the data the tingles are practically buried dead underneath a mound of post-grad student loan debt.

For further confirmation of this nonsexular trend among superfluously credentialed women, see this screen capture of poll results on a message board for upper middle class married white women, most of whom probably have college degrees or better. The question asked is how many blowjobs do they give per month (presumably to their husbands). Since it is a private message board among women and not a publicly announced survey with social expectation bias built in, you can expect these responses to better reflect the reality of their marriages.

If you’re a man with a set of functioning gonads and not a sufferer of cerebral scalzi, you will want to avoid hitching yourself to an overeducated woman whose dusty muff and schoolmarmish mouth will open for business once every lunar cycle.

As CH is a cuntoisseur of the overeducated SWPL chick, some may wonder why the Lord of Lasciviousness would deign to game sexually frozen prey? Easily explained. First, a gentlemanly selectiveness honed by years of experience and psychological nimbleness has proved adequate at filtering out women likely to lay like dead fish in my roiling sea of sperm. Second, pre-marriage, pre-kids SWPL chicks are ravenous in a way they never will be within the confines of the marital home, copulating with an alacrity that belies their furtive fear that their future husbands will be unable to arouse in them the same fervor. Third, one must accept that many overeducated women are sexless termagants because they are married to beta males; they’ve lost that lovin’ feeling, and only a suave rico will summon it back.

But, if you don’t have the skill to reintroduce overeducated women to their bygone libidos, it makes sense to find yourself a less educated woman with a naturally higher sex drive and/or less benumbing experience in the desiccating company of anhedonic beta males.

Problem Number Five with overeducated women: They’re uglier. Now I know what you’re thinking. IQ and beauty, according to the evidence compiled, correlate to a nontrivial degree. All else equal, if you date only women with above-average IQs, you are probably dating women with above-average looks as well. But the formula, at least anecdotally, appears to break down once you move into the ranks of women with much higher than average IQs or years of accumulated education. Trawl any lofty Ivy campus and you can’t help but notice how poorly the super smart women compare aesthetically to their earthier competition. State U girls have it in spades over H Bomb girls. If you are a man, this matters for your marital happiness and stability.

***

All together, CH has laid out a fairly convincing case against marrying overeducated women. Yes, intelligent women will get your stupidly ironic SWPL jokes, but that’s not what makes you hard, is it? No, what makes you hard is a cute face perched atop a slender hourglass figure, guided by an electric ham that’s willing to put all those delicious assets to good use. So why are you contemplating marrying an overeducated woman? To have extra money to purchase pixellated distractions? To brag to your buddies that your homely wife has a PeeAcheDee, only to notice how none of them are remotely impressed by that? Sounds like the winning life of a true warrior of the West. Not.

Nothing in this post should impress upon the reader that dumpster diving in the ghetto for sub-80 IQ battering hams is the wise course of action. An aversion to overeducated women is not the same as a desire for the love of blank-eyed obese monstrosities. The undereducated woman has her own laundry list of problems, many of them equal to or worse than the vices of her smarter sistren. To wit, here is a representative of the pro-educated woman, pro-assortative mating crowd, a real “lion” of the commentariat, reader “SC”, who lays out his side’s argument for sacrificing passion at the altar of social status whoring:

And what is it with you and high IQ/high education women?

I know them better than they know themselves.

Just because you have had bad personal experiences with them…

I’ve had very few bad experiences with SMRT overeducated women. In fact, the bulk of my romantic life has been nestled in the boobies of college+ grads (along with some very exciting exceptions I won’t ever regret). But I also have a bad habit of calling it like I see it, and overeducated women come with their own peculiar set of psychological baggage and magical thinking. And I’m a guy who likes to take a big picture view. Individually, these women have been great fun in my life; societally, they are the cuntary in the coal mine.

…doesn’t mean that they are worse than low IQ/low education women in aggregate.

I didn’t say they were worse. Think of this blog as bringing balance to the force.

I am willing to bet any amount of money that high IQ/high education women are: less violent,

…more emotionally manipulative. Or at least better at it.

less likely to have an illegitimate kid,

…more likely to fuck two men concurrently. Overeducated women are less beholden to sexual norms.

less likely to get divorced,

…less likely to get married before they’re haggard. IQ and credential fetishists love to write about the low rate of divorce among the overeducated, but what they always fail to grasp is that a big reason for this is the decrease in sexual market options among the high IQ that accompanies their later in life marriages. So yeah, you get a more faithful wife with crows’ feet and a saggy butt. Lack of options = stability. Worth the trade-off?

If anything, it looks as if the best bet, if you want to avoid divorce, is to 1. skip marriage altogether or 2. marry a woman who will be a stay at home mom and won’t make more money than you. That means, in practice, avoiding women with masters or doctoral degrees, since it is likely they will have upper quintile incomes.

less likely to have a criminal record,

…more likely to snort coke. How many readers have real experience dating and fucking blue city SWPL chicks? I mean, on the order of 30 or more lovers? If you do, then you know how much coke overeducated girls hoover up their dainty noses.

less likely to be on welfare,

…more likely to max out daddy’s credit card. But yeah, if you date an overeducated SWPL chick, she won’t feel much of a need to lean on you for financial support, which is a good thing… if you’re a player. If you’re a beta offering nothing but free dinners, eh, not so good.

and less likely to be overweight than their low IQ counterparts.

That’s true, and that’s the biggest advantage that overeducated women enjoy.
Fatness is the boner-killer.
Fatness is the heavy weight that brings erection annihilation.
I will scorn that fatness.
I will permit it to wobble past me and far away from me.
And when it has stampeded past I will turn the serrated shiv to see its path.
Where the fat chick has gone there will be belly fold fungus.
Only sexy chicks remain.

Just walk through the campus of Harvard or MIT sometime. Hardly any fatties with bastard kids. Every trailer park/ghetto/barrio has TONS of tattooed fatties with bastard babies.

There’s a world of women between Harvard yenta and trailer park methhead. What is the total percentage of 18-year-old American women who attend Ivies? 1%? I gotta laugh at some of these HBD hermits. To them, the world of dateable lovelies is either toothless COPS extras or 140 IQ Harvard students. I thought they were supposed to be numerate? Fellas, step outside. There are a lot of pretty girls with normal lives who aren’t welfare queens or PhD overachievers.

Here’s valuable CH advice you HBDingalings won’t regret following: Learn game. Use your knowledge of the seduction arts to find a cute girl with an associates or bachelors degree, 105-115 IQ, under 27-years-old, with no children and no stated feminist beliefs, whose greatest career aspiration is nursing or teaching and sucking the life force out of your two standard deviation schlong on the daily. If you can do that, all worries about an impending dysgenic disaster will fade to irrelevance.