The college mating game is a great illustration of Leftist ideology’s toxicity.
First: Denial of basic biological reality. I don’t mean how profs constantly celebrate the whole panoply of deviance (though there’s plenty of that). I mean basic, Darwin-level stuff. “Males display, females choose” is the rule throughout the animal kingdom. Human males, then, are just following their programming when they try to figure out what women want, in order to display it to them.
Problem is, human males are hardwired to think in straight lines and hard rules. The easiest way to receive information from other humans is to ask for it, so that’s what most guys do. But women don’t want what they say they want. They’ve been trained all their lives, by the entire cultural apparatus, to say precisely the opposite of what they mean.*
Oversimplifying a bit for clarity, they say they want pajamaboys. So guys pajamafy themselves. When that doesn’t work, most guys assume that they’re improperly executing the program, not that the program itself is faulty. Nate Winchester nailed it in a previous discussion:
Let’s face it, these guys are engineers! Their entire life is built on instruction and following said instructions (because failure to do so will lead to a very bad time) so it’s only natural that they engage in social interactions according to the instructions they have available.
We can swap in “all men” for “engineers,” as STEM guys have stereotypically male brains. Rule-governed behavior makes instinctive sense to us — I’m as un-STEM as you’ll find, but I naturally grasp the point (if not necessarily all the mathematical arcana) of batting average, quarterback rating, leveling up in video games, tabletop gaming, poker… give a guy, any guy, a set of rules and an objective, and he’ll immediately sit down and start doping out strategies.
Moreover, they’ll keep following the rules well past the point of pointlessness. Back in the days, for instance, my buddies and I used to play these tabletop strategy games based on World War II. It was possible to win the whole war with the Axis — if you were really good, really lucky, and your opponent(s) screwed up — but individual campaigns were usually exercises in futility for one side or the other. Germany vs. Poland, for example. The Polish army isn’t going to beat the Wehrmacht. “Winning,” for the Polish player, was to stave off defeat for a little longer than the real Poles did. Talk about futile! And yet, we passed hours and hours and hours this way.
Now… imagine what would happen if you suddenly took those rules away. If the Poland player could simply declare, “this unit right here is Sardaukar. And they’ve got a Voltron suit. We’re landing in Berlin.” Or the German player could deploy mecha-Hitler from Wolfenstein 3D. Nobody would play, right?
Such is the situation on most every college campus in America today. What few rules there are don’t work, because they’re self-contradictory… and meanwhile the egghead brigade is constantly denouncing the very concept of rules as so much CisHetPat evil.
What’s a guy to do? Well, read ’em and weep (trigger warning: HuffPo):
I am 22 and a pioneer in the early age of internet dating. I’ve trawled the online profiles of Lavalife over the previous weeks, occasionally setting up dates with various eligible women. I remember Katherine’s profile picture vividly: long dark hair, a mysterious Mona Lisa smirk, and the cleverness of her username: WHATSADATE. Answer, written below in first line of her dating profile: A date is a small dried fruit.
(additional trigger warning: the whole goddamn thing is in present tense, because that’s this season’s fashionable literary pretension).
A date is a small dried fruit. There’s your first problem right there, Chief. Take it from the old married guy, youngsters — beware the superficially clever girl. You probably think you want a snarky, quick-witted “gamer” girl, because she’s “into” all the same stuff you’re into, which considerably simplifies the interaction process. Wrong on all counts. Geek girls are girls first, and — trust me — “geek” is about 257th on her priority list, even if she looks, talks, and acts like Zoe Quinn (of course, if you’re going after that particular profile, fellas, you really ought to consider the cloister). You’re far better off going for the hottest sorority sister you can find — you’ll approach her as if she’s an extraterrestrial, which of course from your perspective she is.
Much overwrought, purple-prosed noodling follows, then:
These interactions weighed heavy on my soul. I could not make sense of them. On the one hand, each felt appropriate, life-affirming and needed. Surely these could not be considered “cheating.” What was a kiss anyway? On the other hand, such interactions were beyond the boundaries of our monogamous partnership to which Katherine and I had vowed. In my uncertainty, I waited, hoping somehow the situation would resolve itself.
Dude kisses several stereotypically granola girls at uber-SWPL events like Burning Man. Feels guilty, because he’s “monogamous.” And here’s the important part:
“I think we should try an open relationship.” I can’t quite believe the words are tumbling from my mouth. Within the paradigm of the dominant culture, the sanctity of monogamous marriage is supreme.
And yet I feel compelled to reconcile the deeper longings of my desire, haunted by the alternative: the vision of a pleasant but passionless coupledom, like so many marriages that choose the facade of stability instead of the fire of truth.
We’re both good little liberals. Rules are for squares! “The paradigm of the dominant culture” is, of course, CisHetPat. Which is evil. By staying monogamous, we’re perpetuating the cycle of violence. We’re guilty guilty guilty (hooray!!!). We can’t afford not to open up our relationship.
The dam has broken and the next few months are a blur. I begin using words like polyamorous (meaning “many loves”) and non-monogamy in conversation.
Of course you do. That’s your identity now. If you’d had a stronger sense of self in the first place, you wouldn’t be here.
You don’t need the rest, because the obvious happens: She boffs some other guy; gets pregnant by him; Pajamaboy of course tries to do the “right” thing by being “supportive” and offering to “co-parent.” Just as obviously, Pajamaboy is not ok with their “open” relationship; feels guilty for not being open about it; blames society and “the myth of The One” for the utterly predictable consequences of his boringly obvious choices.
The rules are for squares, right? Riiiiight. There’s no escaping The Rules — they’re hardwired. Pajamaboy wasn’t rebelling against The Rules when he “decided” he wanted an open relationship; he was following them perfectly. Guys will always follow the rules (small -r) of conduct they’ve been taught, to achieve the objective they’ve been assigned. If the rules don’t work, or contradict themselves, a guy will do almost anything to square the circle.
The trick is to make sure that the rules of conduct we transmit to the young square with reality as much as possible. Monogamy works for lots of reasons, and it’s a key ingredient in society’s glue (name an advanced society, for any reasonable definition of “advanced,” that is polygamous). Now that our society has been eroded to atoms by half a century of Cultural Marxism, we’re going to have to think about how to reinstall certain basic notions like monogamy. You’ll never convince our modern pajamaboys to embrace Christianity, so it’ll have to be by other means….
They — we — want hard-and-fast rules. Someone’s going to give them to us. Whoever figures that out first is going to go far…. probably much further than we’d like. Let’s think it over before it’s too late (if it isn’t already).
*Whether or not they do this consciously is, I imagine, much debated among the more reflective PUAs. Personally, I think “consciousness” is too broad a concept — like most human things, one-size-fits-all obscures more than it illuminates. From what I’ve seen, women are quite capable of fervently holding two contradictory opinions simultaneously. I think they actually believe — in their heads — that they want pajamaboys, while just as fervently knowing in their hearts that they want badboys. If any aspiring PUAs among the Four Regular Readers wants to field test this by gaming hardcore feminists, please leave detailed reports in the comments.