Objects of lust.

Today is Buy A Sex Toy Day!

I've done bad sex toy mockeries a couple times, so here are some sex toys that sound awesome and that I would love to have.

Posey Restraints
These are the restraints that are used in actual psychiatric hospitals these days, and as such have tremendous cachet. They're also very inescapable, very comfortable, and I think nylon webbing is a cool material and tragically underused in the kink world.

Rock Chick
I want this pretty bad. It's the only insertable I've seen that seems perfectly designed for the way I really masturbate--I don't thrust, I grind, I want things to stay inside me and just wiggle around in there while I rub my clit, and the Rock Chick seems like it would work very very well with my methods.

Rechargeable Impulse Jack Rabbit
I've never tried a rabbit vibrator, and this seems like a regrettable oversight. The idea of the rotary bits churning around inside me seems... promising. (Although I do worry how strong the motor is, because I can clamp down hard--if I can easily stop it with my hand, I don't think it would have a chance against my vagina.) And this one has cool metal-and-orange styling and it has the rechargeable base, which are awesome.

Jaguar Harness
My current strap-on harness is a piece of crap. I don't use it that much, but still, it's embarrassing--it's cheesy "leatherette," doesn't fit well, and doesn't hold a dildo really rocksteady. This harness has none of those problems. It's elegantly sexy, comes in a color other than black (I really love non-black leather and wish black wasn't quite such a universal default for everything kinky), and it looks built for action.

Tsunami Helix Glass Dildo
Another "I never" for me: glass dildos. They're so pretty! And so... unforgiving. I mentioned having a strong vagina? I couldn't be stronger than a hard toy--it would just have its way with me.

Njoy Fun Wand
It's metal. It's big. It's got different shapes on both ends that could do a lot of things. Like a lot. I want it.

Anal Joystick
Okay, embarrassing name, but look at that handle.

nJoy Pure Plug
Man, I started lusting for cold hard toys and now I can't stop thinking about them. But the appealing thing about this plug is that it looks like it would stay in. I have Pelvic Muscles of Doom and tend to shove out mere mortal dildos and plugs when I come, but I'm pretty sure this puppy isn't going anywhere.

Wartenberg Pinwheel
These are so cheap and feel so cool, why don't I own one already? They're capable of such an amazing range of sensations, from a breath-catching little tease to full-on pain like being cut.

Electrosex Silicone Vibrator All-in-One Unit
I'm very curious what non-shocky e-stim is like, and I've heard amazing things, but I've never had the chance to try it with insertables. There's a baffling array of options if you really want to get into different power boxes and accessories, but since I'm neither a millionaire nor an electrical engineer, the all-in-one unit seems very appealing.

Tex Silicone Dildo
Sometimes, man, sometimes I just want a cock.

Excuses.

I can't date now, I'm about to move across the country.
I can't date now, I'm unemployed.
I can't date now, I just started a new job.
I can't date now, I'm moving again.
I can't date now, my room is full of boxes. (What? This makes perfect sense!)
I can't date now, I should lose like 50 pounds first.
I can't date now, then I might not be able to have random sex.
I can't date now, what if he's not okay with me being kinky and having a sex blog.
I can't date now, then I'll be stuck with him if he's not perfect.

And most evil of all: I can date now, but only if a date falls into my fucking lap, because looking for dates, that's pathetic. Apparently the only thing that's non-pathetic is if a guy just stops me on the street and is smitten with my beauty without me even saying hi.

So yeah, I should probably start looking for dates, because even though part of me clearly likes being single, I also kind of miss the fun you can have in a relationship. My life is never going to be 100% stable and perfect, and waiting for it to be is just a lousy excuse.

A useful tool.

One of the many ways that I can frame sex is that of being useful. I love the feeling of being useful to someone, of getting commands that I'm capable of and carrying them out. I don't think this is entirely a kinky thing either; I think it's more about regular fulfillment. It makes me really happy to be told "go to the store and get 2% milk and a loaf of bread" and to carry out that command obediently and correctly. I love the feeling of being a useful tool, a good doggie, of having earned a pat on the head.

...Okay, maybe it's a little bit of a kinky thing.

And sometimes, during sex, I want to be used just the same way. I know I'd get frustrated if it happened every time, but sometimes I like it when a guy just uses my body to get off. There are times that I've had sex and not even come (well, okay, I can count that on one hand) and I've loved it, because it wasn't about me coming, it was about him getting his pleasure and I was just there to help.

This is one of the areas where I have to draw a huge bold poorly-justified line between my kink and my feminism. Part of me should rankle at being told "wash the dishes and then get back in here and give me a blowjob," but the other part of me--the part that has sole custody of my vagina--is grinning and grabbing a sponge. I'm unsure whether I could sustain an entire relationship like this, because there are moments when I also want to be treated like a special little princess, but I like having the useful-tool aspect in a relationship at least.

I've admitted before that when I was a teenager, I used to fuck Kevin, then get out of bed and sleep on the floor because he didn't like sharing a single bed. What I'm sure I didn't admit is that I kinda liked it. Again, I think an entire relationship of floor-sleeping is fucked up (also, my back isn't fifteen anymore) but... I kinda liked it.

I'm no longer sure where I can draw the line and say "I want to do this, but not for real." Because I'll really wash your real dishes, and there isn't some secret getback where you wash mine. And more importantly, the intention really is that I'm not an equal, that I can be used for a man's convenience. I guess the only thing that makes it "not real" is when we both understand that we're ultimately doing this because I dig on it, not because it's the way of the world. If we understand that I'm being a kinky submissive, not just being a woman, I think we don't have to turn in our Feminist Cards.


Sometimes I want a boy to use my hair as a convenient blowjob handle because of the way it'll make my head feel, and sometimes I want it because of the way it'll make his dick feel. And sometimes, really, I don't even know the difference.

Attention.

My mother used to (well, probably still does, but it's no longer my problem) very openly gawk at people with unusual piercings or hairstyles or modes of dress. When I'd get embarrassed by this, she'd tell me, "But they want attention, or they wouldn't do things like that! They want to be looked at!"

I hear the echoes of that sentiment when people complain about a woman dressing all sexy and putting on makeup, then being offended when guys hit on her.

Because maybe she does want attention, but not from everyone who sees her. Maybe that attention was supposed to be in the form of admiring looks, but not hitting-on; maybe it was supposed to be hitting-on, but not groping. Or maybe she wants to be hit on, but not in a creepy way by creepy dudes.

Or maybe she doesn't want attention at all. Maybe she just wants to look nice to feel good about herself, in a way that isn't entirely sexual. Looking "good" and looking "sexy" have a lot of overlap for women, and an outfit that to her says "I'm going to look casual but fashionable, I take pride in my appearance" almost always ends up showing a bit of skin.

Women also face a catch-22 that the pierced people don't--we have to look sexy in a certain degree just to not be ugly. Going out in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt doesn't protect you--it gets you shit for not showing it off and being a presumed lesbian man-hater.

With all this ambiguity, what's a dude who's not psychic to do? Don't be creepy. Don't assume that because a woman is in a short skirt and heels that she's any more up for it than a woman in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. Don't think that the way a woman is dressed gives you permission to do anything you wouldn't otherwise.

So what's a dude who's not psychic and not celibate to do? Don't be creepy. Very few women are horrified and offended by being politely hit on. When women complain about getting too much attention, usually that attention came not in the form of "hello, pardon me but you're very beautiful, would you like to get a drink sometime" but in catcalls, staring, leering, refusals to take a hint, refusals to take a not-just-a-hint, and inappropriate touching. That shit's not ever okay.

In general, women who complain about male attention when they were asking for it, got shit that was a lot worse than just "attention" and they weren't asking for it.




Side note: Guys, when you hit on a woman and she says "no," do not ask "why not?" I've heard this quite a few times and it absolutely flabbergasts me. Because no, is why not. Because I don't owe you anything, including an explanation. Because the odds of me going "oh, you're right, there is no good reason, silly me, let's fuck now" are infinitesimal. Besides, the explanation is usually very unflattering to you, and you don't really want to force me to say it.



Ugh. I write these posts and I always worry it sounds like I don't want guys to hit on me. But I do! I'm very attracted to guys! I love being nicely hit on! I just don't want to be hit on by guys who can't tell the difference between "expressing attraction to" and "creepily creeping on like a creeper."

Masturbashame.

It's been a few weeks since I had partnered sex, and a loooong time since I've been in a real relationship. But of course I masturbate like a crazy monkey about twice a day. I'm not sure how to feel about this. (Well, besides mellow and a little sleepy. Ahh.) On the one hand, the Unwritten Laws of Sex say that masturbating when you can't get laid is pathetic. But on the other hand, I'm a girl, and the ULoS say that a girl masturbating is hot. And on the third hand which is a little busy right now, it would be downright weird (by the ULoS) to not get laid and not masturbate.

Of course sex-positivity and common sense would tell me that there's nothing wrong with masturbating, but I can't trust those, because they're too nice. It's like a compliment from Grandma, it's very sweet but it's not useful feedback. Something inside me can only really trust a personal philosophy that isn't afraid to humiliate me and create unreasonable and sexist expectations.

Ultimately, I'm unsure whether to treat masturbation as a valid part of my sex life, as an uninteresting bodily function, or as a dark secret shame. I don't know whether I should be telling hot sexy masturbation stories on here, or pretending that I would never sink so low.

Most of the time, though, I feel like masturbation is separate from sex. Having sex doesn't fulfill my drive to masturbate or vice versa, and they feel very different. They don't even affect me the same way physiologically--when I have sex I'm multi-orgasmic and energized, and when I masturbate I'm mono-orgasmic and get very sleepy. So I guess it's silly to worry if I'm "substituting" for sex when it's not that much like sex at all.

Dilemma.

One of the 800 pounds of possessions that I just finished moving (phew) is a big framed photo of my father. I love and look up to my dad and it's a very cool photo--it shows him in a Harvard physics lab circa 1975, surrounded by scientific equipment and the giant, refrigerator-shaped, blinking-light-covered behemoths that passed for computers at the time. So I want to hang up this picture, but I have a problem:

Where in the room can I put it so I can be 100% certain that I won't make eye contact while having sex?

Guest Blogger: Bruno!

[I'm still pretty overextended with moving and work, so here's a guest post from Bruno to pick up the slack. -Holly]

Women don’t like sex. They feign interest only to attract men and put up with it only to keep them or to get pregnant. They’d rather eat chocolate; when Lesbian couples dive, it’s into bags of Doritos.

It's absurd to recount that myth beside Holly Pervocracy’s detailed accounts of her gleefully perverted exploits, but it took me a long time to overcome it and deeply impacted me in the interim. I suspect many men are similarly affected. If women won’t give sex, men have to take it from them. If they can be tricked into offering it, men can learn legerdemain. If nice girls say no, nice guys won’t ask.

My parents didn’t give me a healthy view of sexuality. They rarely even kissed where I might see them, and when they did it was always a sterile peck on the lips. That became my benchmark for normalcy. When I saw my babysitter and her husband on top of each other on their couch after school one day, I ran to tell their kids. (“So?” was their response, in a tone that implied I might get hit.)

My dad did leave copies of Playboy around where I could find them, but although I knew my dad and I wanted to see naked women there was nothing to convey what those women or my mom wanted.

My other early source for information about sex was my parents’ copy of The Joy of Sex. Theoretically, it could have given me a realistic view of sexuality and a broad knowledge of sex practices. There were at least two obstacles to that.

One was that the book wasn’t exactly aimed at a curious kid. The line-drawn hippies didn’t look like anyone I knew and much of the material came across as alien. I think I would have preferred learning about erections before being confronted with armpit fucking.

The second obstacle was that the book wasn’t kept in a bedroom. I found it in a water-damaged cardboard box in the furnace room among disintegrating mimeographs, abandoned Tupperware, and broken desk accessories, so my parents presumably found it as useless and weird as I did.

But of course I read it thoroughly, hands shaking in fear of being discovered and eyes straining in the amber light of a bare 20-watt bulb.

By high school I’d encountered other sources of information, but they didn’t help dispel the myth either. I got pretty good sex ed, but of course it focused on the dangers of sex, not on why anyone would accept the risk, which I guess should have been self-evident to a teenager. The “letters to the editor,” I found in dirtier men’s magazines were written from the man’s point of view and based on factual inconsistencies and anatomical improbabilities I already suspected they were fiction.

High school also featured a few conversations about sex with girls, who also did nothing to dispel the myth. One friend insisted that she’d be a virgin on her wedding day, but that she wanted her husband to have some experience. Sex was like farting –of interest only to crude stinky boys.

College probably should have done more to convince me that women actually like and pursue sex, but apparently I was difficult to persuade, possibly because “women don’t like sex” was easier to digest than “women don’t like me.” I now had access to Internet porn, which meant actual fucking, but actresses’ moans weren’t always distinguishable from agony. Besides, I was soaking up the political correctness of the environment, and knew that all sex was rape unless every act received explicit, enthusiastic consent, and that pornography was inherently degrading to women. Women disliked sex and needed to be insulated from it.

There’s always been an important exception to the myth for procreative sex. A female college friend who was no doubt being sincere in her flattery regularly told me that I’d “be a good dad.” I’d yet to get laid, or even more than a truth-or-dare kiss, and never seen a naked woman in person, and here was my fate: For being a good person, women would reward me with diapers, not orgasms.

Eventually, someone liked me enough to proposition me. She scared the crap out of me, though, so it took a better friend and a couple rounds of propositioning to get me to second base. Then my first girlfriend found me, and eventually asked me to make love to her.

She never asked again, and after that relationship ended my second sex partner was completely passive. Eventually I felt rejected by and resentful toward both, and so the myth lived on.

Years later, I’ve had a few more experiences and may have finally integrated the truth into my mindset. Some of the credit goes to women like Holly who are willing to share their experiences. A lot of it is courtesy female friends who are honest about what they want, whether or not they seek it from me. Mostly, though, it’s about maturing beyond thinking of myself as aberrant.

But the myth still pops up. I ran into an immigrant friend while traveling to a bar to meet with mutual friends, and she complained about the amount of attention she gets from men. What a burden, to be desirable! My FWT (friend with tension) essentially propositioned me to be a sperm donor, albeit leaving the delivery mechanism ambiguous.

Most significantly, it’s exposed in the idea that women can get sex whenever they want, compared with the frustrated, lonely men. The 15th century Latin translates as “man proposes, God disposes,” but an equally popular philosophy is “man disposes, woman disposes.” Women are in control, and if they’ll condescend to fucking they’ll have limitless opportunities because not enough women want sex to satisfy the insatiable appetites of men.

Of course, women might have to settle for someone other than the hottie de jour. My FWT told me that for her birthday she wanted to “treat [herself] to some nookie,” and she got it. It was with a guy who’s older, fatter, balder, and dimmer than she’d presumably prefer, but yes, he’ll give her whatever she wants.

And what she wants includes orgasms.

Moving.

I'm still in the process of moving. I made some progress on my Giant Pile O' Worldly Belongings, but there's a lot left to do. I have Memorial Day off and I'm going to try and spend most of it hauling.

I was very exhausted this morning. I haven't been eating, drinking, or sleeping properly and today it got to the point where it was difficult just to walk up the stairs. I drank a full gallon of Gatorade and slept twelve hours and now I feel wonderfully comfortable-by-contrast. I'm going to ruin it again tonight and tomorrow, but after that I should be able to live comfortably (and post normally) again.

I like to name things in my life--the car is Stella, the old apartment in Washington was the Den of Sin, the guns all have names. And so I declare this apartment the Girlcave. Because it reminds me of Batman and of a vagina.

Real people.

Last night, I went to see a shadow-cast performance of Repo! The Genetic Opera. (It was freaking awesome and I am a geek.) Seeing the local cast of mostly non-professional actors contrasted against the movie's real cast, I couldn't help but notice how much sexier the humans were.

They were so much more different from each other. I know that's a weird comment since the characters in Repo are already pretty distinct-looking, but they seem like variations on just a couple models compared to the way real people are different. Real people have so many body types--and I don't just mean "real is fat!" although that's one part of it--real people have so many permutations in their fatness but also their muscularity and their proportions and their masculinity/femininity and their very skeletons. Real people have tattoos, they have blemishes, they have weird noses and they have cute haircuts.

In the movie, Amber Sweet has two bodyguards who are hunky male-fitness-model types with no body hair and ledgey haircuts. They look identical, perfect, and mostly uninteresting. In the shadow cast, one of the bodyguards was thin with buzzed hair and a goatee, and the other one was taller and bigger and had a little bit of hair on his belly. They were so much sexier that way.

It's the humanity, I guess. A person with flaws is a person with history, a person who exists when I'm not looking, a person who's had a stiff ankle since that bike accident and who eats their fries with mustard and has a total crush on that one barista with the fauxhawk. Idols are overrated; I want someone who always gets an itchy nose right after putting on gloves.

Soothing.

(Posts may be scarce for a few days, I'm moving and stuff's all crazypants.)

When I'm tired enough, sex is sometimes not exciting but soothing--sometimes very soothing, like the perfect way to drift off to sleep. Not hard fast sex, but slow sleepy sex is positively lulling. And napping together is a whole new kind of intimacy, one that's harder for me to relax for than just sex. I can fuck a guy I don't totally trust, but if I try to sleep with him I'll be awake or barely dozing all night; I have to really trust someone to be able to fall all the way asleep.

Alone, I find that a vibrator helps me sleep. On the lowest setting, just holding it still, it doesn't make me come but it makes me comfy. It's sort of embarrassing to wake up with the cord wrapped around me and the vibrator wedged into the small of my back, though. A few times it's still been going.

Man. Can you spot the subtle hints in this post that I just switched to graveyard shifts? I'm going to take a nap now.

Having a secret.

On the surface of it, keeping my freaky sex life a secret seems reasonable enough. There's no reason to tell family or coworkers or unhip friends what I do in bed, right? They don't tell me that they like it doggystyle with clit stimulation, and I don't tell them about getting beaten up; that's just decorum.

The problem is that if anyone is at all prying, they ask questions I have no good answer to.

"So where did you go out last night?"
"Um with friends."
"Oh, how did you meet them?"
"Off the Internet."
"What did you do?"
"Just hung out."
"I've never met these people! You should introduce us sometime."
"Uh, maybe, sometime."

Admittedly imaginary-person there is being a little pushy, but their questions aren't unreasonable--and certainly aren't sexual--and yet I can't answer them honestly without digging way too far into the details of my sex life. I'm either a liar spinning stupidly elaborate webs of "oh yeah, so then we went bowling and my score was terrible, ha ha", a petulant teenager saying "we went places and did stuff, okay?", or a very petulant teenager screaming "that's none of your business!" All so I don't have to tell everyone in my life that receiving pain makes my pussy wet.

The worst part is when I go to a purely social kinky event and we end up talking about sharks or linguistics the entire time, ass-beating barely gets a mention, but I still have to skulk around with a Dark Secret. Nobody can know I was at Denny's talking about sharks, or I'll be ruined!

My secret garden is the Matrix.

I have some weird-ass sexual fantasies. To begin with, they're all set in the Matrix. I mean, in a fully immersive massively-multiplayer computer-generated world. I never think about people really having sex; I only think about people having Matrix sex which is indistinguishable from real sex. I think I do this because it lets me skip over all the nitpicky details--you don't need condoms in the Matrix, nobody has to eat or drink or go potty, and your body can't be damaged. The Matrix conceit also lets me shift scenarios and construct really bizarre ones without having to worry about realism.

(Because otherwise, yes, I would worry about realism. It would be a huge problem and I would write angry letters to myself about how I used to be a fan but I simply can't suspend disbelief any longer, and I wonder if I've lost respect for my audience.)

Other strange features of my fantasies:
-They're always third-person limited omniscient. It's "a woman" doing stuff, not me.
-No real people may appear. Not celebrities, not people I'm sleeping with, not crushes, no one. Someone who even looks like someone I know, or has a similar name, is unacceptable.
-It's all fairly extreme BDSM, where no one is just a bottom sometimes for fun, they're lifetime slaves who get fucked and/or tortured all day every day.
-The submissive women have names and are fairly deeply characterized. The men and dominant women are almost all faceless, one-dimensionally lecherous props.
-The entire fantasy is a continuous story that's been going on for around eight years now, in twenty-minute installments. It's a little fragmented and lacks narrative direction, as you might imagine, but it is all connected.

Obviously, my fantasies are not my aspirations for reality. I definitely perceive my sexual partners as people, and I only want to be a full-time fucked-all-day slave for an hour or two at a time.

All this is incredibly embarrassing to write about.

There's a stupidly elaborate story structure in my head, and I won't get into all nine major characters and their complex interrelationships, nor into the sinister underlying questions about whether it's possible to leave the Sex Matrix, but here are some of the more common scenarios:

-All slaves begin in a communal training facility, where they start out absurdly restricted and then gradually "earn" a few privileges. On the first day, they get labia piercings, which are then chained to the floor so tightly that they can't stand up. Standing up has to be earned. Wearing any clothing, even tiny slips of lingerie, is a major privilege mostly reserved for the upper-level slaves who teach and manage the newbies.

-A woman is put, crouched doggy-style, into a box with an opening for her ass and pussy to hang out, and a parade of "customers" come by. She can't see or control who touches her and how. Rough assfucking ensues.

-A woman performs on stage with fucking machines bearing Dildos Of Unusual Size. Often the dildos are based on animal cocks and she's humiliated for it. Audience members are invited up to help. Rough assfucking ensues.

-Sometimes slaves are just plain rented out to customers, or often large groups of customers who plan to share. Rough assfucking ensues.

-Between activities, women are sometimes put into "storage" in pods that continuously double-penetrate them until they're needed again, just to keep them in shape. There's generally more focus on the "rough assfucking" half of the double penetration that ensues.

-A woman goes to a club so decadent that they have low-ranked slaves impaled on dildos just decorating the walls. (They have footrests. See, I'm not weird or anything.) Generally she doesn't end up on the wall, but on one of the tables around the room, where she's bound for anyone at the club to come by and enjoy her any way they see fit. Rough assfucking ensues.

-Two slaves sneak a moment together, away from all the madness. They they fuck each other up the ass, roughly.

Quick moderation note.

From this post on I will be giving PUA/MRA trolls one comment of the same type. I think that removing opposing viewpoints, even completely dickish ones, damages a blog's integrity, and I don't want to make The Pervocracy into a place where only agreement is tolerated. Even saying "intelligent disagreement is welcome" seems like too much of a wedge in the "this blog isn't for discussing things, this blog is for telling me I'm awesome" door.

However, 8 posts in the same thread of "You need to debate every MRA/PUA in the world or that means they're right" is getting repetitive, and tends to drown out and distract from real discussions. Therefore, if you want to troll me, you have to say different things in each comment. You get one comment posting inane links that I must go debate now, and one comment insulting my anus, but not two of a kind. If you post and post and post and post the same thing, I'm going to delete all but one. (Per anywhere, not per post. Therefore, all future "but the Female Masculist says..." comments will be zapped because you've already had more than your share.) Sound fair?

First Spanking.

I was sixteen. At the time, I didn't identify as kinky--I didn't even know what kinky was. I was still a prude in some ways, and things like anal sex or group sex or even one-night-stands were firmly in the "ooh, I would never" category for me.

But Kevin had awoken a monster in me. He was the first to fuck me, and once I got used to it, I didn't want to stop. Kevin was not a good person, but he was a good fuck, in a mostly-missionary sort of way.

(Digression: I love missionary. I don't want to make it some synonym for "boring," because missionary is comfortable and intimate and feels fucking fantastic. I love having a man's weight on me and I love wrapping my legs around his ass or planting my feet and grinding up against him. That said... Kevin didn't do much besides missionary.)

One day in early summer, near the end of our relationship, we had the house to ourselves all day. We started fucking missionary, and he couldn't come. It would fit the narrative better if it was mediocre for me, but actually it was amazing. We did it slow and close, belly on belly, chest on chest, cheeks pressed together like slow dancers. His cock was finding new spots inside me and I was coming, over and over, quick little orgasms, shuddering against him. I couldn't stop moaning, my hips turning in slow circles against his thrusts. And it just went on. Minutes were like hours, but I think it really was an hour. Eventually he just stopped. It was amazing but he couldn't finish.

We lay in bed for a while, quietly, him stroking my breasts and starting into space, a little frustrated but peaceful. His cat jumped up on the bed, walked delicately between our naked bodies, rubbed her head on each of us, and jumped down again. "Would you spank me?" I asked Kevin. It was the first time I'd asked for anything like that, but he was game.

I can remember every detail very clearly. I crouched down on knees and elbows and he stood beside the bed. His first touch was tentative, rapid gentle little slaps. Not like that, I told him. Go for it. And he did. He smacked my ass and the sound seemed to fill the house. I don't remember it hurting at all, but my ass was hot and pink afterwards. Kevin spanked me again, and again, my sharp little intakes of breath with each blow becoming moans.

Then he started fingering me. There's two ways men finger women--the tentative, intimate way with one or two fingers curling from the front into my pussy, and the way that just means fucking, where the hand is straight and brutal and the force begins at his shoulder. This was the second. With his fingers in me he kept spanking, hard, and I came so hard, harder than I ever had before, and I screamed.

I turned up and grabbed him, and kissed him hard, and dragged him down on the bed. "Now," I said and meant it. I got on top of him and I started fucking him. It wasn't cowgirl but missionary upside-down; I lay over his body and we were face to face as I slid slowly up and down his cock.

And I leaned down to his ear and I whispered terrible things. Things I had never thought or felt before. I told him that I wanted him to suffer. I knew he couldn't come and I didn't care. I would fuck him for hours and leave him in agony, that was just fine, because I was using his cock now. He was just the man attached to my cock and he meant nothing to me.

Reverse psychology, although I hadn't planned it: he started coming. He grabbed my hips and made me fuck him the way he wanted, hard and fast, and I started coming and we were both screaming together and at the instant of both our orgasms he bit me hard on the shoulder, drawing blood, and the pain felt like another orgasm again.

The next week we broke up. Unrelated reasons. We never had that kind of sex again.

The Misandry Bubble - Part 7 - The Exciting Conclusion!

I'm finishing it this post. I don't care how long it takes, I'm not devoting one more post to this guy. I'm only bothering to finish because I've gotten through so much that I'd hate to abandon the project when it's nearly done. After this, I'm posting about hot happy sex between decent human beings, so help me God.

I left off with him applauding mass murder, but right after that there's a section I'm going to skip over, because all it does is prove that women who choose to have fewer children end up having fewer children. (Except feminists, who have zero children because no one wants the ugly old sluts etcetera.) There's a chart and everything.

Lefto-'feminists' will be outbred and replaced very quickly, and rural American conservatives will be the only resiliently youthful population among all the world's white ethnicities. The state that lefto-'feminists' so admire will quickly turn on them once the state calculates that these women are neither producing new taxpayers nor new technologies, and will find a way to demote them from their present 'empowered' position of entitlement.
Gosh, and I was just thinking this essay could use some racism. White people aren't breeding enough, the population will become sullied, oh noes.

I don't think the state actually wants "new taxpayers" that badly, considering that they're going to spend their first 18 years (at least) as serious financial liabilities, and even more so when people are having large families at young ages.

Also, apparently women don't invent new technologies or even contribute to existing ones. That one didn't really come from anywhere; I guess it's self-evident. I don't think this guy understands that when women don't have children, and certainly when they don't have partners, they work. A single childless woman probably contributes more to society in the short run.

The Four Horsemen of Male Emancipation
Dun dun DUNNNN!

1) The Venusian Arts : Learning the truth about how the female mind works is a precious and transcendant body of knowledge for any man.
Ooh, I can teach you that right now.
1. Think about how you think. Consider how you like things that are fun, don't like things that suck, sometimes have difficulty with your emotions but are usually able to step back and see things rationally, and feel a certain inner sense of what's right.
2. Imagine another person thinking just that same way.
3. Except they have breasts.

The ecstasy of two or even three concurrent relationships with women of substantially above average beauty are quite attainable to a man who has scaled the summit, which further deprives the hapless betas (again, male attractiveness to women is zero-sum in a way that female attractiveness to men is not). Thus, while 80% of men have no intellectual capacity to grasp and master the Venusian Arts, if the number of solid practitioners even begins to approach 20%, multiple parasitic beasts, from female moochers to the tax-swilling state to the corrupt real-estate and divorce lawyer industries, can be effectively starved.
But if you only want women of "substantially above average beauty," won't the uglies still go out and marry betas and get thrill-divorces? I don't see how this solves the problem.

2) Adult Entertainment Technologies of 2020 : What of the 80% of men who cannot conceptualize the Venusian Arts? Won't they be condemned to live a life of frustration, humiliation, near-slavery, and occasional thoughts of suicide? Thankfully, these poor souls will experience a satisfactory release through technology, just like women did through technologies such as contraceptive pills, washing machines, and vacuum cleaners.
Oh, I see, no one would marry an ugly, they'd kill themselves first! Fair enough. So then we get to "fuck you all, I'll just go watch porn!" Which works just fine for me, mister.

I have no idea at all what this has to do with vacuum cleaners. I guess the idea is that vacuum cleaners liberated women from men (before them women had to stay home all day to beat rugs and needed a man to finance this operation) so now porn liberates men from women. And the idea--in both directions--that you could be liberated from needing someone but still feel that you wanted them--clearly doesn't exist in this guy's cold dark little world.

For those (mostly women) who claim that the VR sex of 2020 would not be a sufficient substitute for the real thing, that drawback is more than superceded by the inescapable fact that the virtual woman would be made to be a 10/10+ in appearance, while the real women that the typical beta male user has access to would be in the 4-7 range.
Oh, I have no doubt that VR sex would be excellent! But taking off the VR helmet and codpiece and looking around your empty silent apartment--that's not for everyone. Even if your VR 10 passes the Turing Test perfectly, telling her about your day and making little private jokes with her just won't be the same.

As single men arrive home from work on Friday evening, they will simply default into their VR immersion, giving a whole new meaning to the concept of 'beta testing'. These sequestered men will be conspicuously absent from the bars and nightclubs that were the former venues of expenditure and frustration, causing many establishments to go out of business. The brains of these men will warp to the extent that they can no longer muster any libido for the majority of real women. This will cause a massive devaluation in the sexual market value of most women, resulting in 8s being treated like 5s, and 35-year-old women unable to attract the interest of even 55-year-old men. The Wile E. Coyote moment for women will move a few years ahead, and the alphas with Venusian Arts competence will find an even easier field of desperate women to enjoy.
It's true, some creepy desperate men will stop trying. And thank God for that, it'll mellow them out and get them off our backs. But as for "and then there won't be any men left and you'll all be desperate and feel ugly, ha ha," I think he seriously overestimates the prevalence of desperate creeps. Escorts already provide a "pay for it and a beautiful women will pretend to like you" service, but they haven't exactly taken all the men away. (Actually, I don't think this particular breed of desperate creeps goes to escorts that much. They're so fixated on winning a woman-prize, just hiring one would be cheating.)

Besides, shit, you guys are always on about "status" as a reason for getting a woman--where exactly is the status in admitting that you've completely given up?

3) Globalization :
The TL;DR of this section is "fuck you, I'll just go marry a nice perfectly submissive foreign woman!" I think this is a repeat since he talked about sex dolls in the last section already. Weirdly for someone who claims to have lived outside the US, his perception of foreign women is about as nuanced and realistic as his ideas about women in the Past.

4) Male Economic Disengagement and Resultant Tax-Base Erosion : Earlier passages have highlighted how even the most stridently egomaniacal 'feminist' is heavily dependent on male endeavors. I will repeat again that there will never, ever be a successful human society where men have no incentive to aspire to the full maximum of their productive and entrepreneurial capabilities.
There sure won't! That's why we have money and public acclaim and social success and personal fulfillment! But pardon me if I don't volunteer my pussy as a Motivation Builder at the next company picnic. Anyway, most guys who really get to the "full maximum" have already been married for a while at that point. It's a mystery why they kept going after they got a woman; what other reason could there possibly be for human endeavor?

The 'progressive' income tax scale in the US was levied under the assumption that men who could earn 10 times more than they needed for themselves would always do so, for their families. A man with no such familial aspirations may choose an easier job at lower pay, costing the state more than he costs himself. [...] The 'feminist' hypergamous utopia is not self-financing, but is precariously dependent on every beta man working at his full capacity, without which the government bubble, inseparable from the misandry bubble, collapses.
Most lower-paid jobs aren't so easy. For every security guard who gets $10/hr to watch an empty parking lot all night, there's quite a few people doing mind-numbing data entry or soul-crushing customer service or back-ruining manual labor, and I imagine they wouldn't need the promise of pussy to get better jobs if they could.

His entire thesis seems to be that men will go completely torpid if they aren't paid in exactly the amount of pussy that they've earned. Women just need to take one for the team to keep society going, because the allotment of our bodies to deserving workers makes the world go 'round. This is one step beyond commodification--we're not even a commodity, in this guy's head we're currency.

Maybe we could have a bunch of women hole up in Fort Knox and pass out notes indicating how many women in that fort you're entitled to, and guys could just use the notes for trade. Then we'll all sneak out and leave them trading purely fiat pussy, and no one will be the wiser.

Who Should Care?
No one.

This section is pretty much just recap, and of course boils down to "everyone should care!"

I am just an observer, and will not become an activist of any sort, although, as described earlier, being an 'inactivist' in the spirit of Mahatma Gandhi is also powerful.
I think you're more an "inactivist" in the spirit of my cousin who lives in her mom's attic and watches a lot of soap operas.

If my views on gender dynamics are unwelcome in the country of my birth (the US), and if the costs of misandry asphyxiate the US economy to the extent that India is a greener pasture, I will leave my homeland and immigrate to India, where a freedom of speech exists that may no longer exist in America.
Well gosh don't let the door hit you on your way out.

For those misandrists who say 'good riddance' with great haste, remember that blogging can still be done from overseas.
It's a twist ending! The monster looked dead but then, slowly, as it lay broken on the ground, it opened just one eye.

THE END?



Yes. The end.

The Misandry Bubble - Part 6!

Welp, I've gotten this far. In for a penny, hung for a sheep, or something like that.

Hence, there will be no real Men's Rights Movement in the near future. The misandry bubble will instead be punctured through the sum of millions of individual market forces.
And now he gets into pseudoeconomics, which is almost like pseudoscience, except instead of saying "cavemen passed on their genes by only fucking swimsuit models" you say "it's economically rational for a man to only fuck swimsuit models." God damn that Freakonomics book, by the way--it's interesting in itself, but it taught a million armchair economists that you can prove anything "economically" by carefully selecting which incentives you consider and which you completely fucking ignore. It's economically rational for me to cut off my feet because then I won't have to buy socks!

Misandrists shriek about a supposed 'glass ceiling' of pervasive sexism that explains why 50% of the CEOs of major corporations are not women. What is never mentioned is the equally valid 'glass floor', where we see that 90% of imprisonments, suicides, and crippling occupational injuries are of men.
Here we see the logical Fallacy Of Buh?, in which the premise and conclusion are from different planets.

Also, out of the Fortune 1000 companies, 13 have female CEOs. There's your fucking 50%.

One of the most dishonest myths of all is the claim that 'women earn just 75% of men for the same job'.
That's a misphrasing. Women earn 75% of men for the same hours. It's true, female surgeons and stockbrokers earn about the same as male surgeons and stockbrokers (actually often they don't, but anyway), and male housekeepers and nannies earn the same as female housekeepers and nannies. But if you look at the numbers of men and women in various professions this doesn't work out nearly even, and claiming women voluntarily choose low-paid careers for some mysterious lady reason makes pretty poor argument-spackle.

It is true that women, on average, earn less per year than men do. It is also true that 22-year-olds earn less, on average, than 40-year-olds. Why is the latter not an example of age discrimination, while the former is seized upon as an example of gender discrimination?
Because in 18 years I still won't be a man.

If women truly did earn less for doing exactly the same job as a man, any non-sexist CEO could thrash his competition by hiring only women, thus saving 25% on employee salaries relative to his competitors. Are we to believe that every major CEO and Board of Directors is so sexist as to sacrifice billions of dollars of profit?
This hypothetical (and male!) CEO can't just hire the cheapest possible labor for executive and management positions, he has to hire experienced and qualified people even if they cost more. Whoops, they all turned out to have penises, what a crazy random happenstance.

Furthermore, women entrepreneurs could hire other women and out-compete any male-dominated business if such a pay gap existed, but we do not see this happening in any country in the world.
It actually is, slowly, but:
A) Since feminism isn't actually the mirror-image of misogyny, most female businesspeople don't hire 97% female management.
B) Most entrepreneurs don't start in a garage and work their way up with no help from anyone on sheer merit and spunk. Business experience and contacts are invaluable, and they're disproportionately available to good ol' boys.

I am willing to pass laws to ensure that 50% of all Fortune 500 CEOs are women (despite the accelerated turnover this would create in the ranks of the Fortune 500), if we also legally mandate that 50% of all imprisonments are of women, and 50% of the jobs that involve working with heavy machinery, being outdoors in inclement weather, inhaling toxic fumes, or apprehending dangerous criminals are also occupied by women. Fair is fair. Any takers?
Um... yeah. I would take that deal. Except for the imprisonments because that's the Fallacy of Buh?, but the rest of it, that sounds just fine. (I've already worked in inclement weather and I still work with dangerous criminals; for some reason the typical female job of lying on a couch eating bon-bons didn't have any openings when I applied.)

In the recent recession and ongoing jobless recovery, the male unemployment rate continues to be much higher than the female unemployment rate.
Yeah, that's because all the good jobs went away first.

Traditionally female jobs tend to be low-paid and low-status, but necessary: childcare, healthcare. The demand for manufacturing and construction is dependent on the economy, but kids and sick people are always around. These sectors don't have big failures but they also don't have big successes--there'll never be a "Childcare Boom." So there's no childcare recession, but that doesn't mean that babysitters rule the economy now.

The 'mancession' continues as the US transitions to a 'sheconomy', and among the millions of unemployed men, some owe prohibitive levels of 'child support' despite not being the ones wanting to deprive their children of a two-parent household, landing in prison for lack of funds. Furthermore, I emphasize again that having 10-30% of the US male workforce living under an effective 70% marginal tax rate will kill their incentives for inventing new technologies or starting new companies. It is petty to debate whether the top federal income tax bracket should be 35% or 39.6%, when a slice of the workforce is under a 70% tax on marginal income.
Mancession? Sheconomy? This guy could write for Cosmo.

And you do realize that if your children lived with you, you'd still have to clothe and feed them? Ideally.

The next time you hear someone say that 'the US has the largest prison population in the world', be sure to mention that many of these men merely lost their jobs, and were divorced against their will. The women, in the meantime, are having a blast.
So apparently when you get divorced you go to prison. This is, uh, new.

I know he's really just bitching about his child support payments again, but in every state I could Google, you don't get imprisoned for Nonsupport Of A Child if you simply didn't have the income. You can be made to pay a portion of unemployment benefits, which I admit sketches me out a little (although less so when I consider that the kids still have to eat, and if the dad is broke but still ordered to pay, the mom's probably dead broke), but you can't go to prison for failing to produce blood from a stone.

Anyway what goddamn proportion of the prison population is there for Nonsupport Of A Child, seriously. I couldn't find statistics but I seriously doubt this is the root of America's entire crime problem.

It goes further. The vast majority of social security taxes are paid by men, but are collected by women (due to women living 7 years longer than men on average). [...] Remember again that the earnings of men pays 70%-80% of all taxes.
"Men don't earn more than women! And since men earn more, we have to pay more taxes! No fair!"

There's a long segment about why feminists are responsible for high taxes (they just are) that makes less than no sense and it's very boring, so I'm going to skim over that bit if you don't mind.

A single man does not require much in order to survive. Most single men could eke out a comfortable existence by working for two months out of the year.
Well, not in the beloved Past, not unless you can find me a crop that ripens in two months and is nutritionally balanced and perfectly storeable. But in more modern times, the median individual income of a man--not counting zero incomes--in the US is about $30,513. (And of a woman--still not counting zero, remember, so it's not all housewives--is $17,629. But anyway.) Two months of that is $5,086. $424 a month. That's not a "comfortable existence," that's a van down by the river.

The reason that a man might work hard to earn much more than he needs for himself is to attract a wife amidst a competitive field, finance a home and a couple of children, and ultimately achieve status as a pillar of the community. [...] 80-90% of a man's output went to people other than himself, but he got a family and high status in return, so he was happy with the arrangement.
If women would only marry rich pillar-y men, doesn't that mean that like 80% of women had no one to marry? Clearly someone was settling (or, ohmigosh, failing to gold-dig in the first place), or there'd be no such thing as a poor family.

It's also kind of harsh to describe your income as going to "people other than himself," and grudgingly consider the value received in return, when it's your own wife and kids. Life must be sad when you live on The Planet Without Love.

Hey kids, it's GLORIFYING MASS MURDER TIME!
(This is quoted from a different essay, but the Misandry Bubble guy gives his explicit agreement to these specific quotes.)
A man like George Sodini, who listened to his cultural elites and followed their dictates to the letter only to get swindled, had no reason to love America. In fact, he had every reason to lash out at the society that screwed him over and make its denizens feel some of the pain that they had inflicted on him.
You could stop this madness tomorrow by refusing to follow your vaginas straight into the arms of scumbags, and actually live up to your claims of wanting nice guys – but I doubt you will. You’ve made your bed, ladies – now sleep in it.
WHAT THE FUCK IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK I CAN'T EVEN BE FUNNY HERE FUCK. All this cute little talk about divorce laws and tax rates and TV characters means fucking nothing if you're going to justify murder. Holy shit. You don't want to be called a misogynist because it's a mean word that hurts your little feelings and you don't see a problem with killing women?

You know, there's a word for fucking a guy just so he doesn't kill you. I believe we were talking about it earlier? Starts with an R.


There's more but I'm done for now, I'm just fucking done.

The Misandry Bubble - Part 5!

This is getting exhausting. I'm hoping to hack through a little quicker and finish this up in six parts at the most. ...maybe seven.

Contrary to their endless charges of 'misogyny' (a word that many 'feminists' still manage to misspell), in reality, most men instinctively treat women with chivalry and enshrine them on exalted pedestals.
Okay, he's totally got me there. I'm always typing "misogny" and not catching it until the little red squiggly line shows up.

I don't want to be enshrined on an exalted pedestal! I want to be just a person. When you're on a pedestal no one takes you seriously if you want to do anything un-princessy. Also, the whole "women were lucky just not to starve in the gutter" thing from a bit back doesn't sound very pedestal-y to me.

When well-known 'feminists' openly state that 90% of the male population should be exterminated, the unsupported accusation of 'misogyny' is a very pure manifestion of their own misandric projection.
Okay, I think those feminists are insane too, although I also think there are about twelve of them and they all comment on Twisty Faster's blog. But let's not get them mixed up with the people who are "feminists" in a very meaningful sense and yet do not support genocide.

To provide a helpful analogy, "I hate Christians because Fred Phelps says disgusting things at soldiers' funerals. Fucking Christians!"

(This is only a test. Had this been an actual Internet Atheist post, the word would be spelled "Xtians.")

On the second charge of being a 'loser who cannot get laid', any observation of the real world quickly makes it obvious that men who have had little experience with women are the ones placing women on pedestals, while those men who have had substantial sexual experience with women are not.
Then you must be Wilt Fucking Chamberlain. Anyway, I think the very existence of Eurosabra disproves your point.

Having sex with a large number of women does not increase respect for women, which is the exact opposite of the claim that 'feminists' make. Again, this charge of 'loserdom' is merely the psychosexual frustration of 'feminists' projected outwards, who express surprise that unrelenting hatred by them towards men is not magically metabolised into love for these particular 'feminists'.
I don't think that anyone's claiming being a man-whore makes you a feminist. But having a satisfying sex life, whatever "satisfying" means to you, does seem to make guys more likely to respect women. Although there's a certain chicken/egg effect there.

One Sentence Wonder: "Saying someone doesn't get laid is a stupid way to argue, and I bet you don't get laid."

Despite my explanation of this predictable Pavlovian response, the comments section will feature misandrists use these same two slurs nonetheless, proving the very point that they seek to shout down, and the very exposure they seek to avoid. My pre-emption will not deter them from revealing their limitations by indulging in it anyway. They simply cannot help themselves, and are far from being capable of discussing actual points of disagreement in a rational manner.
Wow, you said inflammatory things and you predicted people would get inflamed. Good job, Miss Cleo. By the way, this is my fifth page of actual points of disagreement.

Once again, remember that this should be taken no more seriously than if uttered by a 10-year-old, and there is no reason to let a 'feminist' get away with anything you would not let a man get away with. They wanted equality, didn't they?
I want to call "treat them like a 10-year-old, treat them like a man" a One Sentence Wonder, but under this guy's worldview it might not be.

And sure, let's have some equality. Let's pine for the days when men were chattel and even ugly and unpleasant women were guaranteed a man by the system, and let's say that men are worthless when they turn 35 or fuck more than 3 people, let's demand that divorcing women be able to just walk away from their children, let's talk about how you should ignore everything a man says, and let's say that it's no big deal when men get raped and they're probably lying anyway.

Or let's not. Because I don't believe any of the things in the above paragraph are good ideas at all. That's not how feminism works.

The greatest real misogyny, of course, has been unwittingly done by the 'feminists' themselves. By encouraging false rape claims, they devalue the credibility of all claims, and genuine victims will suffer. [...] By trying to excuse cuckolding and female domestic violence, they invite formerly docile men to lash out in desperation.
Whereas you have no responsibility whatsoever for your words about rape victims. And could you sound a little more like a wife-beater with this "you made me do this to you, bitch, I tried to be nice to you and what did I get" shit? Put on one of them sleeveless white undershirts and you'll be ready for Lifetime.

Chivalry greatly increased a man's prospects of marriage, but the reasons for this have been forgotten. Prior to the modern era, securing a young woman's hand in marriage usually involved going through her parents. The approval of the girl's father was a non-negotiable channel in the process. If a young man could show the girl's parents that he would place her on a pedestal, they could be convinced to sanction the union.
Actually, a lot of the time they'd sanction a union with anyone halfway decent just to get the girl out of the house. (See, here I go talking about The Past like it's some unitary thing that never changed with time and place.) Or in other parts of The Past, the man's parents would work it out with the woman's parents, and tough beans if she turns out to be a 1.

Hence, many men are still stuck in the obsolete, inobservant, and self-loathing notion that chivalry and excess servility are the pathways to sex today [...] and the term 'White Knights' can apply to the entire group. Their form of chivalry when exposed to 'feminist' histrionics results in these men harming other men at the behest of women who will never be attracted to them.
My still slightly sore vagina begs to differ.

Although I do have to commend him for applying the "you don't really hold those beliefs, you're just kowtowing before the oppressor" logic to men. That's quite equitable of him.

An article worthy of being written by The Onion could conceivably be titled 'Social conservatives carefully seek to maintain perfect 100% record of failure in advancing their agenda'.
I'm just putting this one up here so you can admire the gracefully crafted prose.

At this point, readers may be wondering "If things are this bad, why don't we hear anything about it?". Indeed, this is a valid question, and the answer lies within the fundamentals of male psychology. Most beta men would rather die than be called a 'loser' by women (alpha men, of course, know better than to take this at face value).
Then how come so many "alpha men" are actually decent to women? Although I guess this depends how you define "alpha." Is an alpha a guy who has satisfying sex and social lives? Because I know a bunch of those, and they're decent to women and never go on about their horrible oppression. But somehow I think they must be secret betas. Somehow. If I squint real hard.

...shit, squinted too hard, ice cream headache.

Hey. Why would alphas feel oppressed, if being alpha gets you everything you want? Can't complain about chicks ruining your life when you've got chicks in the palm of your hand.

Alpha men have no incentive beyond altruism to act as they benefit from the current climate, and thus my altruism will be limited to putting forth these ideas.
Oh, I see. You're a real humanitarian. Some altruists give to charity, some volunteer, some teach or care for others, and some write long essays on the Internet about how sluts and alimony judgments and rape investigations are like Hitler.

Is it just me, or do the specific areas of his rage tell a little story? Women should be forced to marry men while they're young and attractive, not when they're all "cougary" and used-up... women are cheating sluts, cheating is worse than rape... accusations of abuse are mostly false, and anyway the abusers were totally pushed into it... divorce lawyers are Nazis!

All this, however, requires me to believe that he actually got a woman to marry him. So I guess we can disregard this ludicrous speculation.

Any serious movement has to start a think tank or two to produce research reports, symposiums, and specific policy recommendations, and the few divorce lawyers who were compelled by their conscience to leave the dark side have to be recruited as experts. Subsequently, televised panel discussions have to be conducted at top medical, business, and graduate engineering schools (where young men about to embark on lucrative careers are approaching marriage age, but know nothing about the law), documentary films have to be produced, prominent victims like Mel Gibson, Paul McCartney, Hulk Hogan, and Tiger Woods have to be recruited as spokesmen, and visibly powerful protests outside of divorce courts have to be organized.
...Hulk Hogan? HULK HOGAN??? I uh. I what. I um. You broke me. See what you did. Guh.

Also, Hulk Hogan and Tiger Woods cheated on their wives and Paul McCartney on his fiancée, and that's worse than rape.

Other than that, great plan! You get started right away on that and I'll check back in a bit to see how it's going.

The Misandry Bubble - Part 4!

Please ignore the following, as I have had anal sex.

Feminists once had noble goals of securing voting rights, achieving educational parity, and opening employment channels for women. But once these goals were met and even exceeded, the activists did not want to lose relevance. Now, they tirelessly and ruthlessly lobby for changes in legislation that is blatantly discriminatory against men (not to mention unconstitutional and downright cruel).
We gave you bitches the vote and everything, what the hell else do you want? The world is now absolutely perfect for all women in every way, so clearly feminism is done and should pat itself on the back and go home.

Also I'd like a citation of which part of the Constitution is "Thou shalt not collect alimony." (Is alimony a major feminist thing? I don't see it mentioned much in feminist circles. It's clearly a major bug up this guy's butt, which makes me think it's personal, but then I wonder how he could possibly have been close enough to a woman to marry her in the first place. Maybe it's just his own justification for why he won't marry: it's not because he can't even talk to girls, it's because the bitch would just take his money.)

Despite my acute ability to detect and deconstruct leftists, I was unprepared for the level of unhinged lunacy that 'feminism' had sunk to, which revealed itself in late 2008 when Sarah Palin emerged onto the national scene. Here was a woman who actually achieved all the aspirations that feminists claim to value : a highly successful career as a Governor and VP candidate, a large number of children, a loving marriage to a supportive yet ruggedly masculine husband, and an attractive appearance despite being in her 40s.
Okay, see, feminism doesn't mean all women are awesome, it just means all women are people. (Hence the existence of the Female Masculinist doesn't make my head explode like a computer calculating "what is love?", because a certain proportion of female lunatics is actually predicted under this theory!) Under that standard it's actually not anti-feminist to believe that a person, irrespective of gender, is not qualified to be the vice president. Even if she does have impressive political qualifications like having lots of kids and a cute husband and being cute at 40. I mean, I could totally understand if feminists didn't want to vote for some lonely old woofer, but this is just hypocritical!

This reveals one of the darkest depths of the human mind - when a group is utterly convinced that they are the 'victims' of another group, they can rationalize any level of evil against their perceived oppressors.
And you perceive yourself as oppressed by women. You see why I worry.

Go to any major 'feminist' website, such as feministing.com or Jezebel.com, and ask polite questions about the fairness of divorce laws, or the injustice of innocent men being jailed on false accusations of rape without due process. You will quickly be called a 'misogynist' and banned from commenting. The same is not true for any major men's site, where even heated arguments and blatant misandry are tolerated in the spirit of free speech and human dignity.
Oh, you weren't trolling, you were just asking polite questions! Ones that you were sincerely curious about and willing to hear even unexpected answers to! That sounds likely as fuck!

Anyway, the fact that some men's site (ugh, what a terrible way to put it, since there's lots of sites run by men that aren't battlefronts in the Gender Wars, or are on the "wrong" side) doesn't moderate comments is surely a victory for civil rights everywhere. They like to argue, woo hoo for them. I actually don't moderate comments either, because I believe that comments reflect only on their authors (hi there "butt slut" guy!), but that's my own choice; I'm not under some obligation to let anyone post anything on my website.

It's worth noting at this point that the comments to The Misandry Bubble are almost entirely positive, and at one point the author explains that he hasn't been screening but some comments may not appear due to a technical problem with Typepad. A very selective technical problem.

Ever-tightening groupthink that enforces an ever-escalating narrative of victimhood ensures that projection becomes the normal mode of misandrist thought. The word 'misogynist' has expanded to such an extreme that it is the Pavlovian response to anything a 'feminist' feels bad about, but cannot articulate in an adult-like manner.
This is another one of those one-sentence wonders. "Women are screaming idiot children--why would they think I hate them?"

A man who refuses to find obese women attractive is also a 'misogynist', as are gay men who do not spend money on women. The male non-compliance labeled as 'misogyny' thus becomes a reaction to many years of unopposed misandry heaped on him first, when he initially harbored no such sentiments. Kick a friendly dog enough times, and you get a nasty dog.
And you're a nasty fucking dog, mister.

There's a difference between not fucking fat women, which you're quite free to do, and saying hateful and weirdly offended things any time a fat women dares to be in your sight. Also, guys don't "agree" to find fat women attractive, some of them just do. And "gay men who do not spend money on women" are called misogynist? BUH?

There are laws such as the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA), that blatantly declares that violence against women is far worse than violence against men. VAWA is very different from ordinary assault laws, because under VAWA, a man can be removed from his home at gunpoint if the woman makes a single phonecall.
Anyone can be removed from their home (although not usually at gunpoint, usually Taser-point at the worst) if the content of that single phonecall was "this person is attacking me," yeah. I've been present when women were arrested for domestic violence; the cops don't just leave them at home and say "you be good now."

I actually agree to a limited degree that there are bad provisions in VAWA (most of which I think are gone anyway due to United States v. Morrison), but I'm unwilling to get too into that with someone whose main complaint is clearly "and it makes violence against women illegal, what's up with that."

Rape legislation has also bypassed the US Constitution, leaving a man guilty until he proves himself innocent, while the accusing woman faces no penalty for falsely sending a man to prison for 15 years, where he himsef will get raped. The Duke Lacrosse case was a prominent example of such abuse, but hundreds of others occur in America each year. The laws have been changed so that a victim has 1 month to 'decide' if she has been raped, and such flexibility predicatably leads to instances of a woman reporting rape just so that she does not have to tell her husband that she cheated on him (until it becomes profitable to divorce him).
Ugh. I've gone over the whole "false accusation" thing so many times in comments that I'm kind of tired of it, so I'll just say that being falsely accused of rape sucks, but it's not The Scourge of Our Era, it's not equally as bad as being raped, and guys who are really really really concerned about the specifics of rape laws creep me out in much the same way as guys who point out that the age of consent is actually sixteen in their state thank you very much.

And let's hear it for our old friend the One-Sentence Wonder! "Women don't want to admit that they cheated because it would destroy their marriage, although women do love destroying marriages."

But, unimaginably, it gets even worse. Polls of men have shown that there is one thing men fear even more than being raped themselves, and that is being cuckolded.
If this is true, you polled some serious dumbshits. Or more interestingly, some guys with very little concept of what it's like to be raped or to fear rape. Yes, cuckolding sucks, but very few people have been cuckolded to death. I can't tell you the number of times ERs have to reluctantly collect swabs from crying, shivering, bloodied cuckolding victims.

So, to review, if a woman has second thoughts about a tryst a few days later, she can, without penalty, ruin a man financially and send him to prison for 15 years. 'Feminists' consider this acceptable. At the same time, even though men consider being cuckolded a worse fate than being raped, 'feminists' want to make this easier for a woman to do, by preventing paternity testing. They already have rigged laws so that the man, upon 'no fault' divorce, has to pay alimony, to a woman who cuckolded him.
Wah wah wah cuckolding. The weird part is that I actually would feel bad about a guy being cheated on, if he didn't bring the whole "worse than rape" thing into it. It's like seeing someone with a broken ankle limping along, and then he screams "this is worse than the so-called Holocaust!"--kind of interferes with my sympathy a little.

Also, I'm used to the word "cuckolding" only being used by guys who hate and fear it so much that they want me to do it with a big black guy while they're forced to watch and then maybe I should make them eat out the come because they're dirty little bitches who aren't man enough for me, aren't they.

This is pure evil, ranking right up there with the evil of Nazi Germany, Al-Qaeda, and Saddam Hussein. Modern misandry masking itself as 'feminism' is, without equal, the most hypocritical ideology in the world today.
TOTAL LACK OF PERSPECTIVE FIVE, BRO!



And once again, I've only taken a tiny chip off the surface when I must go back to work at the Vagina Dentata Factory. Mention in the comments that I have had anal sex!

Quick break for contemplation.

I will hack through the whole Misandry Bubble, it's a personal challenge at this point, but I had a bad day and I need a sanity break.

1) I wonder how much cock there is in the world? Erect, of course. There's 6.7 billion people, so about 3.35 billion dudes. Let's figure an average cock size of 5.8 inches for adults, which gives us a starting number of 19.43 billion inches, but there's about 27% kids in the world, and I don't feel like getting too specific with my calculations there so let's just clip about 10% off the top. This gives us 17.49 billion inches. Or 276,000 miles. That's more than the distance to the moon.

The cocks of the world reach to the moon, dude.

2) Would I fuck myself? I mean, if I were magically duplicated. For a long time I thought I would, but honestly, I don't think it would be all that great. I don't think I could surprise myself, and I'm not sure I have the mojo to dominate myself. I mean, I'd do it, for the novelty value if nothing else, but I think ultimately me and myself would still have to look to the greater world for our needs.

So maybe it's hypocritical that I totally want to watch a dude fuck his own magically replicated self.

3) I'm a total sucker for the ledgey haircut. You know the one I mean? Conservatively medium-short but with a ledge. Like on Adam from Buffy. Only usually without the green stuff. That ledgey haircut looks really good on everybody. And like a third of all the guys in Boston have it, which is awesome. I get to walk down the street and I'm just surrounded by ledgey haircuts. Duuude.

The Misandry Bubble - Part 3!

I met up with a friend to discuss an art project yesterday evening. At least, outwardly that's what happened. It's possible that beneath the surface, he was only acting nice to get sex from me, and I was only acting "friendly" to use him and rub in his face that he wasn't getting that sex. I mentioned this aloud, and we laughed and made fun of it, but maybe he just felt he had to do that so he wouldn't kill his chances. The mindfuck never ends.

The Venusian Arts : The Four SIrens and the legal changes feminists have instituted to obstruct beta men have created a climate where men have invented techniques and strategies to adapt to the more challenging marketplace, only to exceed their aspirations. This is a disruptive technology in its own right. All of us know a man who is neither handsome nor wealthy, but seems to have amazing success with women. He seems to have natural instincts regarding women that to the layperson may be indistinguishable from magic. So how does he do it?
Just as "hypergamy" is his ten-dollar word for "slut," "The Venusian Arts" are PUA by any other name. Why you would want a woman when they're evil monsters who will take all your money, I'm not sure. I guess it's just the "sports car you can stick your dick into" factor.

Anyway, in this case the Venusian Arts don't exist to get women, they exist to plug a hole in the theory: if women are horrible monsters, why do some guys seem to have satisfying relationships with them? It's inconceivable that they might actually be bonding to the women and double inconceivable that women might be bonding with them. Clearly the only answer is woman-taming magic.

Men who comprehended the concepts (a minority) and those who could undertake the total reconstitution of their personalities and avalanche of rejections as part of the learning curve (a still smaller minority) stood to reap tremendous benefits from becoming more attractive than the vast majority of unaware men.
Ah yes, if it doesn't work you must be misapplying the principles! You're such an idiot, next you'll be telling me you can't even see the Emperor's wonderful clothing.

Among the most valuable learnings from the body of knowledge is the contrarian revelation that what women say a man should do is often quite the antithesis of what would actually bring him success.
This is one of those parts that's really disturbing to read. Because I'm stuck in the body of a woman, and I'm only able to speak with a woman-voice. Could there be a sign or something I could hold up when I really mean what I'm saying? Maybe I could talk in a deeper voice when I say things that aren't lies? Some sort of signal?

For example, being a needy, supplicative, eager-to-please man is precisely the opposite behavior that a man should employ, where being dominant, teasing, amused, yet assertive is the optimal persona.
Oh yeah, I always go around telling everyone I want a needy, supplicative man. "Why can't a guy follow me around laughing too hard at my jokes and giving me weird awkward compliments while never actually being sexually assertive," I always ask my girlfriends. When I go on dates, I tell the guy, "you better start whining and wheedling now, mister," and see what he does.

As for dominant men, of course I really like dominant men, but that's a different use of the word. But I only like dominant men who are capable of talking to me on the level too. If a guy won't break out of his "ho ho, I am Lord King Man, you wanted to say something to me, that's so funny" persona long enough for us to have a goddamn conversation, well, we're not going to have a conversation.

I know, a woman just said what she wanted, how quaint, everybody do the opposite now.

An equally valuable lesson is to realize when not to take a woman's words at face value. Many statements from her are 'tests' to see if the man can remain congruent in his 'alpha' personality, where the woman is actually hoping the man does not eagerly comply to her wishes.
Again, I only have a lady voice! I am incapable, in this framework, of communicating when I actually mean "please go away, you're making me uncomfortable." Or even things like "can you hold my drink" aren't big planned-out tests, I just have to go potty and it would be gross to bring my drink in there.

It's important to point out at this juncture that I didn't go to Lady School. I just got dropped off in this world with no directions, and nobody ever took me aside and said "hey, you're a member of the Lady Club, here are the techniques you gotta use." I don't really know anything about relationships or attraction that guys don't. I'm making it up as I go along too.

Similarly, the 'feminist' Pavlovian reaction to call any non-compliant man a 'misogynist' should also not be taken as though a rational adult assigned the label after fair consideration. Such shaming language is only meant to deflect scrutiny from the woman uttering it, and should be given no more importance than a 10-year-old throwing a tantrum to avoid responsibility or accountability.
Whereas someone sticking their fingers in their ears and yelling "I can't hear it when girls talk, LA LA LA" is clearly nothing like a kid throwing a tantrum.

And this is such a 10-year-old-level attempt at a mindfuck, too. "I know you're going to call me a misogynist, therefore... I can't possibly be one?" Yeah, even my sarcasm-quote couldn't follow the logic there the whole way through.

For anyone seeking advice on the Venusian Arts, there is one rule you must never break. I believe it is of paramount importance that the knowledge be used ethically, and with the objective of creating mutually satisfying relationships with women. It is not moral to mistreat women, even if they have done the same to countless men. We, as men, have to take the high road even if women are not, and this is my firm belief.
Wow, what a fucking saint. You're like if Mahatma Gandhi fucked Mother Theresa and the baby took lessons from the Dalai Lama.

Anyway, the "even if they have done the same to countless men" is the sort of thing that sounds like you're not mistreating women now, but you'd definitely be justified if you did, and bitches shouldn't push it.



This was a short section, but I have to go to work soon, my shift at the Testicle Removal Factory starts bright and early, so I'll just post up when I've got now.

I recommend that all comments on "I just knew you bitches would cry misogyny", from misogynists, should be replied to only with references to poop. No more rebuttals. Just poop. This may seem like a frustratingly childish and debate-stalling tactic, but it takes one to know one, POOPHEAD.