Women don't.

I live in New York City. Having recently acceded to relatively high SMV from mediocrity, I'm suddenly glutted with attention. A year ago, as a poor student who didn't know anyone in a new city, I was nothing. Less than an afterthought. Now, I'm passing over women who I would have fought for as recently as this winter.

Modern women are not investors. Modern women don't ignore the blonde. To a modern woman, a man is useless until he is exactly what she wants. She is not the Spanish company hauling the silver out of the earth; she is the English privateer that stalks the treasure galleon. Rather than take the time to get to know, let alone build up, a promising prospect, a modern woman would rather focus all her energies on the fully formed "good man"—on whom, of course, all of the energies of all of the other women in the area are already focussed.

Had one of these 7/10s had the foresight and the patience to hang out naked in my apartment in the winter, inertia and loyalty would probably keep me with her now. But because they all waited until I met the threshold of desirability, they're suddenly batting out of their league—because now I have the attention of prettier women.

Godspeed.

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