I recently received an email from reader and occasional commenter captainahags titled “Please take this idiot apart!” The post in question is by Matt Forney, a self-published “entrepreneur” who seems to have taken bragging “pick-up artists” seriously when they said there was money in all those poor, lonely guys on the internet. So last year he started up a blog to test the idea that you can publish any old crap, call it “game”, and make money. He’s already put out a “best of” book.
The post in question is a perfect example of “any old crap”. It’s whiny, contradictory, and backed up by fuck all. But here. Rather that tell you about it, let’s show you what flies in PUA land–with commentary, because it wasn’t the post that sent captainahags to me as much as the fact that Forney doesn’t allow critical comments on his blog.
Friday’s post covered the long-winded, poorly asserted introduction to Forney’s post. Saturday’s covered the hilarious first of his “reasons”. “Reason” number 2 came yesterday. Today is Forney’s final chance to offer a reason that does something other than expose his own lack of education and insecurity.
3. Women don’t want to have high self-esteem.
This is the kicker; in their bones, girls know that their toxic, feminist you-go-grrl ideology is a lie. Why do you think the average urban slut machine is downing enough Prozac to poison the water supply?
Given that “urban” is code for “not white” and the good old CDC tells us white people use more antidepressants than anyone else, this isn’t starting well for Forney. Maybe he should stay away from linking those “intuition” pieces he likes so well. Also, 12% isn’t “average”, but maybe he’d know that if he placed any value on education.
I am fascinated, though, by the phrase “urban slut machine”. Is this a machine that produces sluts optimized for an urban environment? Are they Real Dolls that come in camo? Is this the name of Forney’s Spinal Tap cover band?
Or is this just a way for Forney to dehumanize women who will have sex but not with him?
Pharmacological assistance is the only way she can make it through her day without slitting her wrists, or alternately realizing that her life is a complete lie. Every day, women show through their actions that they despise their strong, independent lives.
Those actions that consist of 12% of them taking an antidepressant within a four-year period?
By the way, Forney doesn’t know this, so it’s probably worth mentioning here. There are “off-label” uses for antidepressants to treat phenomena that affect women more than men. I take a first-generation antidepressant, now rarely prescribed for depression, for migraines with insomnia. That doesn’t mean I’m depressed any more than the next option on the list my doctor and I drew up–an anti-convulsive–would mean I have epilepsy. Some menstrual and premenstrual symptoms are also helped by antidepressants. Our brains only use so many neurotransmitters. A drug that works on one brain function frequently has positive as well as negative side effects.
They want nothing more than for a man to throw them over his knee, shatter the Berlin Wall around their hearts, and expose the lovestruck, bashful little girl within.
I think Forney’s a bit confused as to where within a woman’s anatomy her heart is located. Really should have gotten some education, that one.
Game, at least as it was conceived by the seduction community, was all about this. All the hysterical nitwits blubbering about how “negging” and the like was designed to hurt girls’ self-esteem were precisely right, but that’s the thing; women are crying out for a man who will wound their self-esteem. “Confident” women are still women, and they still lust after men who dominate them, even if they can’t admit it to themselves. Because their self-esteem has been artificially boosted by society, today’s girls need extra-concentrated doses of dominance—i.e. game—in order to feel womanly, like a junkie chasing the dragon.
Negging isn’t about damaging a woman’s self-esteem. It’s about figuring out instantly whether a woman is going to put up with abusive behavior. Sadly, a good many of them are trained to, and the rest of us are under a lot of pressure to do the same. See: the internet shit storm that happens whenever a woman objects online to being subject to abuse. See also: Forney’s entire inability to respond except by liking other people’s tweets when I told him I didn’t care whether he found me fuckable then stopped engaging with him.
Oh, right. That’s another post. (Oh, is it ever.)
Recently, Noisey wrote about the explosion of retro sixties-style girl groups and solo singers in the indie rock scene, such as the Dum Dum Girls, Vivian Girls and Lana Del Rey. Feminism supposedly freed women to do whatever they wanted, yet indie girl musicians today—the kinds who started as garage bands and write/produce all their own songs—just want to wear their hair in beehives and pretend that they’re still sixteen years old.
Just like the swing revival meant we all wanted to live among gangsters in the Great Depression then get shipped off to go die fighting Nazis. And the way Kate Pierson’s beehive meant she was just looking for a good man. And the way this isn’t just one tiny trend among an indie scene that boasts Amanda Palmer, Claire Boucher, and a whole lot more.
Noisey and other mainstream writers try to spin this depressing reality by emphasizing that at least the girls are choosing to sing about boys. It’s not unlike how homeless winos keep “choosing” to pickle their livers with Wild Irish Rose. “I CAN QUIT ANYTIME I WANT TO!!!!!11″ Every song Best Coast has ever come up with is about boyfriends and smoking pot at the beach. Vivian Girls has a song about waiting for your boyfriend to call, a cliche that was old and moldy before Dennis Wilson bit the dust. Hell, Vivian Girls’ bassist Katy Goodman did an entire album with her side group La Sera that was about a breakup.
Perhaps Forney would like to talk about the fact that all men are secretly necrophiliacs?
Real life fails the Bechdel test.
Good to know that most of my conversations are imaginary. All that talk at work, all that talk about writing, all that talk about research and ideas. Forney doesn’t have conversations like those, so he assumes people like me don’t either.
Feminists can claim that women don’t need men, but their actions put the lie to that; they need us far more than we need them. Girls will all but die without masculine attention.
All but die, huh?
Hell, I’m even starting to think that the feminist agita about “rape culture” is part of this as well. Pushing lies like the claim that one in three women will be raped during her lifetime and their constantly expanding the definition of rape are ways for feminists to indulge their desire for vulnerability in a way that doesn’t conflict with their view of themselves as “strong” and “empowered.”
Look, another unsourced claim. I wonder what that means.
Here’s a version of that 1 in 3. Note that what it says and what Forney says are not the same. The claim is “It is estimated that 1 in 3 American women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime.” Sexual assault includes nonconsensual groping and that asshole who tries to rub himself on you on the dance floor, not just rape. Even if Forney doesn’t know better, the asshole who fled after I turned around and yelled at him to leave me alone sure knew he was doing something wrong.
As for that link, it’s to another post of Forney’s saying that roofies are a myth. One of the reasons he gives is that no one would ever let a man assist a clearly impaired women out of a space they were responsible for, like a party or a bar. Because, you know, everyone always steps in to say, “Look, she got dangerously drunk on our watch. Let us keep her here and stick around in case anything goes wrong.”
At the end of the day, there are no Strong, Independent Women™. There are only shrews pleading for a taming.
Oh, so that bit at the beginning where Forney says he loves insecure women–that’s a meaningless statement because the other kind of woman doesn’t actually exist? Or maybe Forney’s having a bit of a go at The Secret.
All the posturing, the pill-popping, the whining and demands for “equality”; they’re a cry for help. Girls don’t want the six-figure cubicle job, the shiny Brooklyn 2BR, the master’s degree, the sexual liberation, none of it.
Someone has watched too much Sex in the City. You see, there is no drama in a dramedy without dissatisfaction. But just like very few of us actually make six figures and relatively few of us live in New York, we don’t actually spend our time whining about sex. It’s a script. You know, like in “the game”. Those guys are actually that impressive. Young women today aren’t actually that dissatisfied.
They want to be collectively led back to the kitchen, told to make a nice big tuna sandwich with extra mayo and lettuce, then swatted on the ass as we walk out the door.
Which is why all of Forney’s dating adventures have worked out perfectly, and he’s still with that one woman he wanted to marry.
I say we give them what they want.
I say he’ll change his tune if he asks what that might really be instead of making up the answers for himself.