The obsequious posturing, overindulgent gifting and fawning devotion of yesteryear are no longer sufficient for the gals. Apparently, on the one day of the year in which one is supposed to celebrate one’s romantic and sexual union with your mate is just TOO DARN MUCH PRESSURE for the feminists of America.
The gifts, the flowers, the candy, they’re great and all . . . but they aren’t enough. You see, that sets up the idea that the women in question might feel OBLIGATED to have sex with the men in their lives ("husbands"), the ones who just shelled out a car payment on an expression of their affection that can be adequately bragged about at work. And if men are getting anything out of it, then it has to be BAD for women.
In a disgusting orgy of self-gratifying entitlement, the authors of the post (Rabbi Robert B. Barr and Dr. Jill Bley, PhD.) reveal:
As wives everywhere unwrap their gifts, they'll be thinking, "So what's in this for me?" Far from being that romantic holiday as depicted on the cards, Valentine's Day has become another time for men to place more expectations on women.
I’ll just let that lovely tidbit of cognitive dissonance settle on your frontal lobes for a moment. “As they unwrap their gifts” . . . “what’s in this for me?” . . . irony much?
The authors of the post make a compelling argument: men already suck pretty badly. Just ask women. Here are the reasons why women should spitefully reject their husband’s solemn attempts at a socially-appropriate and likely heartfelt display at love and devotion:
[W]omen are working harder than men.
(Men must therefore suck. How dare they, the lazy bastards! Unemployment is NOT an excuse!)
Most are still being paid less for their work outside the home.
(Most avoided lucrative technical career paths that would have led to higher salaries in favor of more “meaningful” work . . . that often means more hours and less pay.)
They are likely to be shouldering more of the burden of household and child rearing responsibilities than men.
(Unlike their unmarried contemporaries, who are doing 100% of the housework without any masculine assistance, the lucky ladies!)
Women in the workplace continue to face sexism, spoken and unspoken.
(Men in the workplace continue to die and get maimed at a far higher rate than women)
They are often exhausted by the expenditure of energy trying to combat the sexism they face without appearing petty or bitchy.
(Men are usually just exhausted from working . . . there’s too much to do to worry about appearing petty and bitchy)
Their work day is almost never over when they arrive back in their homes.
(Whereas men utterly lack post-work activities and job-related homework)
Poor, beleaguered feminist wives! How they suffer!
Seriously, it’s bad enough that they actually deigned to marry a male in the first place, thereby rescuing him from a fate of cheap and easy sex, beer, and action movies. To actually have to work IN ADDITION to running a marriage? That’s a little too much for the poor dears, apparently.
And of course the LAST thing they want to do is be reminded of their distasteful and embarrassing social plight by the possibility of catering to her husband’s beastly lusts.
Adding insult to injury, Valentine's Day becomes an opportunity for men, in the guise of romance, to obligate their wives to sex when what their wives really want is time to relax, sleep, and have their houses cleaned by someone else.
Because Sex is apparently the insult to the injury of Marriage. And understanding that men are incapable of carnal congress with even a modicum of emotional content behind it, Barr and Bley quite rightly identify the entire phenomenon with what it so clearly is: one small step away from socially-mandated justified rape. Because the LAST thing a hard-working wife wants on Valentine’s Day is to get laid. Sex is a chore, to feminists, and the mere fact that we have a holiday devoted to the idea of romantic love and the special bond between a man and a woman is no reason to bow to the iron will of the Patriarchy.
Thought women enjoyed Valentine’s Day, gentlemen? You sadistic bastards. It’s a crushing hell of obligatory sex and feigned affection. Indeed, according to Mssrs. Barr & Bley, the very sight of a red heart can inspire a violent reaction:
For many women Valentine's Day does not bring out romantic feelings, instead, it ignites anger and frustration. Valentine's Day seems to benefit men while requiring women to smile as they accommodate the desires of another man one more time.
Yes, all of those nasty Pandora bracelets, diamond earrings, new cars and 4 star dinners are for OUR benefit, Gentlemen. Just one more way we can guilt our wives onto their backs, making them the unwilling slaves to our salacious for the cost of a mere dozen long-stem red roses and an uncomfortable relationship discussion! Celebrate love? In the feminist universe, love and marriage are polar opposites, a distasteful and necessary evil required for the support of progeny, nothing more. If you needed further proof of the Patriarchy’s evil plan, Barr and Bley can pinpoint the villains:
Women, at home and work, continually face the challenges of men who demand much and don't give enough in return. While it is claimed that it is a holiday for women it doesn't take much to see that it's the men who get what they want, while women are wanting.
Hear that, Gents? You demand too much. And you don't give enough in return, you ungrateful assholes. Your woman doesn’t want romance and love, attention and affection, validation of her femininity and of your attraction to her . . . she wants laundry and a nap.
And anything less than that is proof – PROOF! – that you don’t really love them.
- Something they want but you don’t know what it is because she’s not going to tell you. (hint: you can’t buy her anything you’d like to see her in, you’d think she’d like, etc. It has to be something she picks out and you just pay for, because that’s what good feminist Beta husbands do).
- Forget about sex and ask for a honeydew list.
- Clean the house . . . like a chick. Because the way you USUALLY do it (which is just fine for you) sucks, and is proof that you secretly despise her. It isn’t clean until she says it’s “chick clean”.
- Do the laundry. Because a box of Tide is a hell of a lot more meaningful than another stupid, expensive Pandora charm no one knows what the hell it means anyway.
- Make dinner or “make reservations”. As if you didn't have enough reservations at this point . . .
- Do all of her housework for her.
- Don’t have sex with her unless she specifically requests it in writing.
- If sex is what she wants, don't really bring the penis into it. Toss her a vibrator and then go to sleep.
It’s telling that both Barr and Bley are in various aspects of the Divorce Industry, as this advice could have been written as a public service announcement for the Divorce Lawyers Association. Anyone with any Red Pill understanding will see that the above list of what women “really” want from the men they've sworn to spend their lives with isn’t the solid strength and passionate embrace of the love of their lives in a tempest of Alpha-laden erotic meaning, its:
- and more Beta
Seriously, if that post doesn’t depress the hell out of any married woman who reads it, she has bigger issues in her marriage than Valentine’s Day. Most of the Manosphere despises V-Day as the commercialized Hallmark holiday it is, an opportunity for women to guilt men into socially-braggable expensive displays of their devotion. Really, sex was the only reason we guys ever indulged in the exercise anyway.
The problem with American marriages, according to Barr & Bley, is that the dudes are just too darn Alpha for their poor feminist wives. The answer to a troubled marriage is, according to folks who make their living off of divorce, to add even MORE Beta. Men are STILL too manly, and women are STILL too oppressed. Imagine, all of those poor, college-educated wives out there being in miserable and oppressive marriages, instead of the liberating and fun-filled world of Dating 2.0! The husbands of America must be totally evil bastards if the consensus of feminist opinion is that the way to celebrate marriage and love in our society is by doing laundry, not your wife, on Valentines Day.
If the feminists of the world want their fellas to go full-fledged flaccid Beta feminization, as Barr and Bley contend, then it behooves their Blue Pill husbands to indulge them. I’m sure you know of a couple (or are part of a couple) where the hapless AFC turns in a standard-performance every V-Day, and still gets bitched out for how he got it “wrong” by his feminist-leaning wife even if he gets duty sex. Because guys suck. And Valentines’ day isn’t about THEM. Or their nasty penises. True Love? That's for suckers. The hard-working corporate feminist wives are tired of picking up the slack for their lazy hubbies, just to be expected to put out after being showered with gifts and praise.
Of course, if you're a dude, the above-message probably feels like a hot blade being jabbed again and again into your kidney by collective femininity, further proof that women don't understand their own attraction (nor, apparently, do rabbis).
SO . . . here’s what I propose. The Beta Revolt.
If you are a Blue Pill dude who is in an unhappy marriage with a feminist wife (or just know
one – and let’s face it, we all know at least one) – then this Feb 14 is your chance.
This is your opportunity to suggest that -- perhaps -- her approach to your marriage and relationship has failed to take into account one very important factor: her husband.
While your wife is at work, scrub the house and do laundry. Take a six-pack and make a day of it – and clean the holy fuck
out of the place. Like you’re getting ready to show it. Get the laundry folded and put away, everything. If you have a Red Pill pal, ask him to help.
Then do it just like the article says. Order a single cheese pizza, buy a cheap vibrator, some bubble-bath and a single-serving bottle of wine. Hell, throw in a DVD of some lame romcom. No flowers, no candy, no jewelry – make sure youstick to the Barr-Bley Plan.
Then print out the HuffPo article, in its entirety. In color, even. Leave it folded up on the pizza box with the following note:
Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey!
I know how much you admire and like to promote feminist principles, and after I saw this article I realized that I had been unintentionally oppressing you all this time, and I had no idea. I really took it to heart, discussed it with my friends, and came to some realizations about our marriage. So I took the advice in the article, and I think you’ll find that the house is clean enough for your mother to visit. The laundry is done, folded, and put away. I even got some help on the yard.
To continue the festivities, you’ll notice I got you dinner, so you wouldn’t have to cook or clean tonight. There’s a bottle of bubble bath, so you can indulge yourself and rest from your hard and stressful day. I think you’ll like the movie, too, and I you combined it with the bath and the wine, you’ll be nice and relaxed. Plus, if you’re feeling particularly relaxed and want to indulge yourself, I took the liberty of buying you a new toy. Enjoy!
Now, as you look over my humble offering, please note that I didn’t waste money on roses, flowers of any sort, candy, jewelry, or a fancy dinner, all of which might set up the obligation of sex in your mind – and you know that’s the last thing I want to do. This is about you. All the feminist articles I’ve read have said something like this, that this is what you REALLY want for Valentine’s Day, and who am I to question the wisdom of the collective femininity? I want you to truly enjoy yourself without expectation or obligation.
So dig in, have a glass of wine, take a bubble bath, watch a movie, and tear one off, if you’d like. And while you do, remember what a kind, thoughtful considerate husband you have. Delight in the knowledge that you have a truly transcendent feminist marriage, one in which the needs and the responsibilities of the household are equally shared between us, without either party dominating the other. Where issues of sex and affection are secondary to a good working-relationship. Where erotic attention and thoughtful appreciation of our intimate selves rightfully takes a backseat to our common goal of equal dignity and mutual respect.
And while you are thinking about this, eating your pizza, drinking your wine, and watching your movie, I’m going to be at a strip club, Hooters, or area sports bar to celebrate the wonderful independence and strength of our marriage. At exactly 8:30 pm. I’ll be arriving at ___________, staying for half an hour for a drink, and then I’m going to check into a motel, so that you can enjoy your Valentine’s Day evening in peace without me pestering you for sex.
If you decide, however, that you are finding the ideology of feminism somehow lacking when it comes to how we conduct our marriage, and wish to discuss it further, then you know where I’ll be and when and for how long.
But understand that if you show up, you’ll be essentially asking to get boned so hard your ancestors get sore, without apology, without regret, and without too much foreplay. You’ll be admitting that you’d rather be a real woman loved by a real, passionate man the way a real husband loves a real wife than a co-equal partner of a semi-permanent domestic arrangement. And you’ll be admitting that you place more faith, stock, and value in the strength of our marriage than you do in how a couple of “experts” suggest you should feel about it and the important issue of housework that apparently plagues your mind, day and night, instead of having sex with me.
So consider carefully: Delicious, freshly-delivered pizza, a tasty glass of wine, a luxurious bubblebath, an entertaining movie and an early evening to bed with your new plastic pal, or a night of seedy, nasty lovemaking that will challenge your personal boundaries and possibly cause a UTI.
You’re probably wondering why I’m doing this, too. Heck, you might even be worried that this is some kind of mid-life crisis. That's not entirely inaccurate. The fact is, I’m not entirely happy with how things have been going in our marriage, and I figured this would be a novel way to get your attention on the matter.
And while, of course, I'm always open to frank and open discussion, the fact is that the attitudes towards husbands expressed in this article are fairly common from what I understand. I'd sincerely like to know your take on the subject, but of course I completely understand if you do not want to interrupt your rare quality time and would prefer to discuss this at another time.
Either way, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.
Happy Valentines Day!
Your Average Beta Chump Husband
Then go to a bar. Have a few, but don’t get drunk. Take an hour to drop by a buddy’s house and change into something sharp-looking. Seriously, do your damnedest to make yourself look HOT. Do, indeed, rent a hotel room – you’re going to need it, one way or another. Then go to the designated bar fifteen minutes before the designated time, park yourself on a stool, order a drink, and wait. And turn off your cell phone.
If she shows up looking sweet, feminine, and ready to be your wife on Valentine’s Day, make it worth her while. And shag her rotten.
If she shows up with tears in her eyes
, wearing sweatpants and no make-up, begging for you to come home and “talk about this”, then hand her your hotel card, tell her that’s where you’ll talk – naked – give her a kiss on the cheek, and leave
If she doesn’t show up . . . then you have married a confirmed feminist who is probably on her way to becoming your ex-wife, no matter how thoughtful she told you she thought the pizza was..
Now, I understand that the danger rate is pretty high on this – but if your marriage has been suffering anyway, one more lame-ass Valentine’s Day isn’t going to help matters any. In fact, it’s just going to pit your feeble Betatude against her imagined hyper-Alpha ideal, and your shit is going to look weak in comparison.
But this? This is Alpha. It might sting, but its unmistakable backbone. She might get pissed off, but she won’t be bored. And you’ve got about a 50-50 shot at hotel sex (more, if you aren’t choosy about who it’s with). If your relationship has been going through one unsatisfactory “relationship discussion” after another, and you’re struggling with finding a good Red Pill moment to draw a line in the sand, this might be your day. This might be the way. Because nothing says “your relationship is in trouble” to any woman, feminist or not, than having her co-workers ask “so what did your husband do for you on Valentine’s Day?” with a knowing smile, and having to say “he let me bathe, sleep, and masturbate by myself while he was at a strip bar and then checked into a hotel.”
I mean, “we had surprise hotel sex”
sounds a lot better, or at least a lot less
dysfunctional. Even to alleged feminists.
Gentlemen, if you're considering taking the Red Pill, make this Valentines Day your day to revolt from Beta Chumpatude and start cultivating the Alpha that she might not even know she wants. Buy yourself (and/or her) a copy of Married Man's Sex Life Primer and start standing up straight when you walk. Study Married Game and then game the hell out of your wife . . . whether she "wants" it or not. Start taking control of your marriage, your relationship, and your sex life . . . before you get stuck doing laundry in a vain attempt to earn her love, respect, and poon. Do it right, and then next year you'll have to think up something crazy to do for Valentine's Day . . . because just regular great sex will be so ordinary that it just won't be as special anymore. That doesn't mean you can get out of doing laundry, though.
Because, as Mrs. Ironwood says, a dude doing laundry is sexiest when the sheets he's washing he messed up honestly.