There is a rule for contraception, and it is this:

No female contraception. In practice, this means condoms, or solutions such as vasectomy. (I don’t recommend that men cut their balls off.)

Besides the many problems with birth control pills (more here), all female contraception (IUDs, diaphragms, spermicide, etc.) represent the female’s intent to become infertile, and refuse the (implied biological) intent of the man. At a basic biological level, a woman sets herself up in contradiction to the man, rather than in cooperation. And, this tends to color all of her actions.

When a man uses a condom, he says: “we will not produce a baby today.” The woman can thus cooperate with the man’s intent, and not produce a baby. In addition, there are a lot of advantages, such as the prevention of disease. Use condoms. (At least if you are in any kind of continuing relationship. For wanton sluts, maybe the pill is best.)

The relationship between the pill and the “sexual revolution” is not really as close as people think in the U.S. Japan, for example, banned oral contraceptives until 1999. (Its permission since 1999 is thought to be a compromise with the permission of Viagra that same year.) Even today, only 2% of Japanese women use oral contraceptives, and the use of other female contraceptives is negligible. Unfortunately, this has led to a rather high rate of abortion in Japan, of 9.3 per 1000 women aged 15-49. This compares to the U.S. at 11. But, that could be reduced, perhaps, by more common use of condoms: 20% of Japanese women report using withdrawal or the rhythm method.

Every American man that goes to Japan immediately finds the women there much more gentle, pleasant and agreeable than women in the United States, even in the most minor daily interaction. I think this is related to the very low use of birth control pills in Japan.

Skip to 2:54.

The Power of Sexual Surrender was written in 1958, in the middle of what we today consider a high point for family and traditional womanhood. But, actually, the problems of feminism were common then too. Marie Robinson was a psychologist with a practice that focused on “frigidity,” which was: women who had difficulty achieving orgasm. As you probably guessed from the title, her answer was to “surrender,” or take the traditional woman’s role of subordination to the husband, which women find very sexy. Much later, a book on similar themes came out, The Surrendered Wife (2001), by Laura Doyle, which came to the same conclusions.

Robinson’s book is worthwhile reading in its entirety. I would differ on some points, but the main message is as appropriate today as it was then. One of the nice things about the book is a section where Robinson paints a picture of an idealized woman. As she says:

With merely this ideal to follow, I have seen many women reap immediate rewards some time before they were able to come to grips with their frigidity per se. The characteristics and neurotic goals that accompany frigidity often cause obvious domestic frictions that can be greatly reduced when the woman begins to see new horizons for herself—that she need not be blaming others. Her grateful husband will reward her at once for her change, with renewed affection and tenderness, a new solicitude, a new caring. Our idealized portrait can help you, too, to grasp more thoroughly the rest of this book. We have found, in psychiatry, that when a goal has been clearly defined half the battle has been won. As we come now to the chapters on frigidity, its history, its whys and wherefores, kinds and causes and cures, you will have before you a picture of what the potentialities of women are, a landmark to show you how far our sex can stray from real femininity, a guide to keep you from confusion, from ever subscribing again to false and destructive ideas of what it is that constitutes real womanhood.

This is what I mean about “telling women what to do.”

Here is the whole section:

***

What is the mature woman? Who is she? What are her characteristics? Her personality? Her role in life?

It is of vital importance to an understanding of the frigid woman to answer these questions, for again, only by understanding what health is, can we truly grasp the meaning of any departure from it.

There have been great arguments about what the word “normal” means. Millions of words have been written about it I fear that most of them have only clouded the issue. Odd definitions of normalcy have led millions of women down very odd and unhappy paths. You will recall, for example, that Victorianism elevated frigidity to the position of the norm for all womankind—with disastrous results.

At the start of my practice I encountered another strange and tragic view of the normal that has had a powerful influence on American women. This view, which we will encounter in more detail when the feminist movement is discussed later, still has wide repercussions and is intimately bound with the subject of frigidity and divorce.

In my introduction to it a lovely woman of forty came to consult me. She was deeply disturbed and could hardly speak, she wept so. Somehow I felt at once that there was a deep rage behind those tears. I recognized her name when she was able to get it out; she was a successful lawyer whose name many would still recognize in all probability.

In her thirty-ninth year she had fallen in love for the first time with a fine man, another successful lawyer. Her dormant sexuality and true femininity had been awakened completely in her since their marriage a year before, and they both now wanted children badly. However, a physical examination had indicated (as unhappily it so often seems to do for women who postpone their first pregnancy for too long), that she would have to have a hysterectomy, for she had developed a tumor in the wall of her uterus.

She felt cruelly deprived, and I saw her for several sessions. During these periods she told me of her background. Her father had died when she was an infant and her mother had been a militant leader of the movement for women’s “rights.” The whole emphasis in her early upbringing had been on achievement in the male world, and in the male sense of the word. She had been taught to be competitive with men, to look upon them as basically inimical to women. Women were portrayed as an exploited and badly put upon minority class. Marriage, childbearing, and love were traps that placed one in the hands of the enemy, man, whose chief desire was to enslave woman. Her mother had profoundly inculcated in her the belief that women were to work in the market place at all cost, to be aggressive, to take love (à la Russe) where they found it, and to be tied down by nothing, no one; no more, as her mother put it, than a man is.

Such a definition of the normal had, of course, made her fearful of a real or deep or enduring relationship with a man. For years she sedulously avoided men entirely. Gradually, though her grown-up experiences, she learned of other values, but by the time the right man came along it was too late to have children.

I was right that her tears had been tears of rage. They were directed at her mother’s authoritarian but totally mistaken view of the feminine role in life and were, to my mind, justified. When she had sufficiently vented her righteous anger, but not until then, we were able to move on to more practical matters. Her marriage was a happy one, and finally she adopted two children. With some of her values revised she made a wonderful mother for them. I visited this family only recently, and it seems to be one of the happiest and healthiest, psychologically speaking, I have ever seen.

Most women who have been reared with such ideas of what is normal are not so fortunate, however. They cling to their defensive and self-destructive values to the end, which is often bitter.

And there are, still, passionately convinced and often eloquent purveyors of these ideas. After reading the brilliant best seller, The Second Sex, by Simone de Beauvoir, the French authoress, I was saddened to see such clarity and brilliance in the service of such a mistaken cause. Her tacit conclusions seem to be that woman’s historic role of wife and mother are degrading to our sex, have kept woman from her true destiny. As she describes what that true destiny is, however, her clarity departs, and the role and function of this woman of the future become more than merely vague. Their foggy contours remind me of the glamorous-sounding but totally evanescent and mist-enshrouded goals that many of the frigid and lonely women I treat have when they first come for help.

There is no vagueness about the goals, functions, and needs of the normal woman. Science in recent years has thrown a bright light on her, and that is why we can be certain of many fundamental details about her. She is a mature, fully functioning woman, a woman who has realized the better part of her potentialities, who knows how to achieve and handle love and happiness, who has won through to a fully satisfying mental and sexual life.

I very frequently draw a word portrait of such a woman for patients who come to consult me about their sexual problem. It often makes them angry, and they deeply resent some of the characteristics of this idealized woman. They call her all sorts of names: “a victim of the male,” “an impossible ideal.” One eloquent younger woman called her “a faceless tramp,” and I have heard older women, brought up under a more inhibited code than exists now, call her “a shameless hussy.”

And yet despite the hostility that my portrait is often greeted with there is soon other evidence in my troubled listeners that they have been touched deeply by the idea that such a picture of womanhood might conceivably be a possibility for them. “Do you really think I could ever get to be anything like that?” The yearning question, phrased in any number of wistful ways, will inevitably come, despite the obvious hostility, the bristling defenses, the fact that the speaker is scared blue of sex and motherhood and all they mean.

You see, women want to find themselves, desperately want to. And in this portrait they get a hint, often the first they have ever had, of what to aim for, of the real potential inside themselves.

I call this subject of my sketch ‘idealized,” and she is. But I want to emphasize that she is not a personal idle day-dream of my own, based on airy nothingness; very much the contrary. Her characteristics are based on exact and thoroughly checked psychological and biological facts, facts upon which the leading scientists in this field are in general agreement. And she is a composite based on observations of women I have known, and not always clinically. If you stop to think as you read about her, you may realize that you have known such women too.

What, then, is she like? First of all to give us a frame for our portrait so that we can see what we do know more clearly, let me state what we cannot know about her; what, in fact, is irrelevant.

We don’t know what she looks like. She may be tall or short, red-haired, blond, or brunette. She may have large breasts and round hips and sloping shoulders, or she may be small-breasted (or even fiat-chested), have wide shoulders and narrow hips. She may have a career or not have a career, be more intelligent and better educated than her husband or less intelligent and less well educated. She may have children or be unable to have children. She may be rich or poor, come from the “400” or from the slums. She may be a bit shy or quite at ease socially. She may be athletic or totally unathletic. These things we don’t know about her and, for our purposes, they do not matter.

Here are some of the things we do know.

In the first place, she is very much “at home” in the world. Deep inside herself she feels profoundly secure, safe, both with herself and with her husband. She is very, very glad to be a woman, with all the duties, responsibilities, and joys it entails. She can’t imagine what it would be like to be a man and has no interest in imagining it as a possible role for herself. She feels that the very existence of her husband makes the world safe for her.

This feeling may seem unrealistic, in view of the very clear insecurities in the world today. As you will discover, however, it is based on a far deeper understanding of reality, on a far deeper reality than the one reflected in the alarums published in the daily newspaper.

This sense of reality almost invariably leads her to select a husband who is good for her, often near perfect, in fact. He might not be perfect for another woman, nor perfect in any ultimate sense, but he is near perfect for her. He loves her and intends to go on loving her. He may be a carpenter or an architect, a lawyer, a dock hand, or a poet, but he, with her, is passionate and loyal, a good companion and a good father for her children. She has an infallible sense about this matter, and though she may have had an adolescent or college crush on a no-gooder, she simply never will marry him.

Of course marrying a good husband adds to her sense of “at-homeness” in the world. Related to this feeling in her, to her sense of security, seeming almost to spring from it, indeed, is a profound delight in giving to those she loves. Psychiatrists, who consider this characteristic the hallmark, the sine qua non, of the truly feminine character, have a name for it: they call it “essential feminine altruism.”

As you will see, it too has its roots in woman’s biology, Is, on its deepest level, a need in her that must have expression. The finest flower of this altruism blossoms in her joy in giving the very best of herself to her husband and to her children. She never resents this need in herself to give; she never interprets its manifestations as a burden to her, an imposition on her. It pervades her nature as the color green pervades the countryside in the spring, and she is proud of it and delights in it.

It is this altruism, this givingness, that motivates her to keep her equilibrium, to hold onto her joie de vivre despite whatever may befall. It stands her in marvelous stead for all the demands that life is going to make on her—and they will be considerable. When a woman does not have this instinctually based altruism available to her, or when she denies that it is a desirable trait, life’s continuous small misfortunes leave her in a glowering rage, helpless and beside herself with self-pity.

Another fact about her which you may be surprised to learn is that she is deeply religious—though not officially or even consciously. In fact, if her husband’s background has been antagonistic to formal religion and he is still reflecting his background, she may pay lip service to his agnosticism or even atheism. But that doesn’t mean a thing. Just beneath the surface is an absolutely firm belief in the existence of a Creator and in some form of heaven. She’s not so clear about hell.

She also believes firmly in the fact that marriage is a sacrament, binding forever. Given the slightest encouragement or support, she will formalize these beliefs, join a church or develop a kind of personal pantheism. Why? Biologically speaking, she is the carrier of immortality, of the generations of man. This gives her a close affinity to and appreciation of the awesome and creative mysteries of the universe: moon-rise, tidal flow, the growth, death, and rebirth of things.

Sexually she almost always reaches a climax during the act of love. Sometimes she reaches two or, if she and her husband are feeling particularly lusty, even three. But the number of times is unimportant, despite the Kinsey report.

What is important is the kind of orgasm she has. It is of the kind described in the previous chapter, of course; the kind that starts deep within her vagina and extends to all parts of her body. She doesn’t talk about it very often, but when she does it is always poetically. I have heard one woman refer to it as “a sensation of such beauty and intensity that I can hardly think of it without weeping”; of it another said, “It’s like a mounting symphony, rising in tremendous and irresistible rhythms till your whole being feels as though it has been swept away.” One woman, less lyrical but still exact, said, “It’s like going over Niagara Falls in a barrel.” Nobody can ever quite evoke the exact sensations in words, but, as one woman told me, “Nobody who has ever had it will doubt whether her experience is the real thing.”

What else characterizes her sexually? Well, she’s not very modest, I’m afraid. In fact, she’s quite a show-off and likes sexual compliments from her husband, dressed or undressed, verbal or otherwise. Her nineteenth-century sister would have been vastly shocked by her whole attitude in the bedroom.

She’s not sexually shy at all. She wouldn’t demur a moment at initiating love with her husband, though she will immediately change her amorous direction if she finds he is too tired or is preoccupied, without feeling the least bit rejected. Don’t forget that, for one thing, just under the surface (and sometimes on it) she considers her marriage a heaven-made arrangement that is going to last forever, and she need not look upon any one experience as too important in itself.

However, there is another very important point I have indicated that sexually she takes her cue from her husband. What does she know, do you suppose—know deeply and instinctively—that makes her do this, while other women refuse to?

She knows this: that it is the man who, from the purely physical viewpoint, has to be ready before sexual intercourse can take place. No matter how many books have been written that ignore the fact, it is nevertheless true that, if the man does not have an erection, love-making cannot take place.

Just think about it for a moment A woman can make love at any time; a man only when he is ready. There may be psychologically preferential circumstances for a woman, but there is no physical prerequisite.

That is why (by virtue of that deeper sense of reality we spoke of) when her husband is ready to make love our lady is nearly always willing, barring sickness or certain difficulties that may come up during pregnancy. And that is why she is always willing to forgo love-making if he is not ready. Her deep altruism makes her extremely sensitive to his moods, and she will not find it in herself to treat him as if he were a robot, become angry or feel rejected when, if the button is pushed, he doesn’t respond.

On this same point: she knows how much store men put on their potency, how vulnerable they can become if they are made to feel inadequate to the needs of a wife. She would die a thousand deaths rather than have her husband gain any such inference from her actions. It’s her altruism again.

Her eternal acquiescence, her ever-readiness, never lets her in for a painful sexual experience, however. She knows that ninety-nine times out of one hundred even negative sexual feelings in herself will soon return to eagerness, and eagerness to desire. And even if that once in a hundred times occur, she will still get a profound satisfaction from the pleasure she is able to give her husband, the very obvious pleasure. Once more that deep altruism.

But she not only takes the lead from him about whether they are going to make love—the kind of love they are going to make is also usually his decision and, in pure delight, she follows him completely. If he feds purely lusty, soon she does too; does he feel gentle and tender, then she picks up that mood. Experimental? Let’s, by all means, experiment. Passive? She’ll be active. It takes her little time to find out that a geisha has the tremendous disadvantage of believing that techniques are more important than love and the love of following one’s partner.

Despite her very pronounced wantonness with her husband, however, she has no promiscuous urges whatsoever. She is realistic about other men and finds them attractive or unattractive, as the case may be. But she neither desires them nor has any fantasies of a sexual nature about them. One woman put it this way to me: “I like other men if they’re attractive,” she said. “Their attractiveness does honor to the sex my husband belongs to.”

Nor is she ever tempted to indulge in self-masturbation, at least not after one or two tasteless and pointless experiments she may make during her first absence from her husband. To her, sexuality is devoid of any meaning whatsoever if there is not mutuality, if it is not shared.

Lest you think that our paragon’s altruism could end up by making her a martyr, a person without any real regard for herself, I must hasten to nip that idea in the bud. In her quiet way she is quite self-centered. In the first place, she’s contented with all aspects of her body; all the details of a female anatomy that gives her so much pleasure. If in her cultural background there were influences which tended to inculcate disgust with certain natural functions, she finds herself rejecting them. For example, I have had several patients who, during the course of their therapy and as they found a new maturity developing in them, find themselves ruminating on the word “curse” as it is used to describe the menstrual flow. Reflection almost always makes them drop the word from their vocabulary entirely. In the end they are far more likely to call it a blessing.

This self-love, her pride in and love of her body, is reflected in her outward appearance. She likes to be as clean as a cat and as neat as a pin. She enjoys dressing well. She is very aware of the things that bring out her special attractiveness. She also knows how to make herself up to the very best advantage. But she does not spend hours daily on her toilet in front of the mirror. She is far too confident of herself, has too much self-love, to feel that such a production is necessary.

Here’s the way I’d put it She accepts and is pleased with the way she is and the way, as time passes, she is going to be. This is true of her mental capacities as well as of her physical attributes, but we can see it most clearly in her attitude toward her physical self. As I said at the beginning, we don’t know whether she has small breasts or large breasts, rounded hips or narrow hips. We only know that, whatever she’s got, she enjoys.

You see, she knows perfectly well that it is passion and response which spin the plot of love and not, ever, fetish or fashion. She really feels sorry for women who worry about what they haven’t got or the effect of growing older. If she were small-breasted she would never disguise that fact, and you can be certain that her husband, at least after the relationship had got under way and he’d had a chance to experience her pleasures, would soon drop any adolescent predilections he had imagined he possessed.

The husband of one such woman said to me: “When I was in college I had a conviction that really beautiful women had to be redheads. I can’t imagine now what made me believe such a thing.” I know his wife well; she’s a brunette, and you and I might not be the least bit impressed by her looks. But he knows better; he knows her real beauty. And, I happen to know, so does she.

The confidence and pleasure our fair lady has in her person and in her other attributes (her self-love) have one very odd quality. And it is an all-important one. This self-love is detachable.

With a flick of her psyche she can project practically all of it onto her children, take as much joy from their beauty, achievements, and pleasures as she ever got from her own. She detaches it, too, on behalf of her husband, often will exaggerate his good qualities and minimize any weakness he might have, as long as the weakness is not a danger to family and home.

Her detachable self-love and her need to give unrestrainedly are two chief components of the maternal instinct To put it mildly, as perhaps you have noticed, she is pervaded with this instinct. To her the fulfillment of it is the most central and all-important function of her life. It colors and deepens and enriches her sexual life with her husband. Her unconscious fantasy with every intercourse is that he might make her with child, and her psychological and biological gratitude to him for this richest of all potential gifts is boundless. Her fantasies about becoming pregnant may excite her directly.

I have paid particular attention to this connection between the sexual instinct and the maternal instinct in many patients of mine who have come to therapy because they were afraid of childbirth. When they have been able to rid themselves of such fears they are almost always struck by the new dimension that is added to their sexual life. The things they say about it are often poetic or even mystical.

One woman, who because of childhood experiences had been scared to death of bearing a child and whose fear was causing a partial frigidity, said to me of her new sexual experience: “I was living in one room of a whole mansion, and now I have the whole mansion for my own.” Another woman, who had believed her love life complete despite her deep fear of pregnancy, said of the change in her feelings during love-making: “Oh, it was fun before, but now the idea that I might become pregnant makes me fed at one with the whole universe. If s strange. There are almost no words to express it.”

Our ideal woman carries this characteristic feeling of a deep identification with nature, with all things that grow and bud and blossom, through her pregnancy and long thereafter. Childbirth has no real terrors for her; she sails through it proudly, like a clipper made especially for such weather.

And she usually wants to nurse her child at her breast She does, too, unless a breast abscess or some other unforeseen difficulty arises. And, though I have no statistics to prove it, I would bet that her milk is both plentiful and good.

I know that today there is a tremendous emphasis on the importance of careers for women, but I am afraid that our mature woman cannot get terribly excited about the subject I don’t mean that she’s antagonistic to this whole modem movement She may be a career woman herself, a nurse, a doctor, a lawyer, a fashion designer, whatever. But now, happily married and with children in the offing or already here, she can’t feel that it’s of central importance. If it’s necessary for the family welfare she will keep her job, but any drive she had after high school or college to go far in it is sacrificed, if necessary, to her love-making and home-making instincts.

She is not the least bit jealous of her husband’s work. As I pointed out earlier, she may be smarter than her husband or may basically have a much higher intelligence quotient, or “she may be far more thoroughly educated than he is. Or she may be highly talented in some art form—writing, music, painting, sculpture. You will never, however, hear her complain that she gave up a career for her family, or angrily envy the daily adventures of her man in the market place. Her joy and satisfaction in the fulfillment of her own biological destiny make all other personal achievements pale for her, any other considerable use for her energies almost a waste.

As she grows older and her family grows up and the children learn to stand on their own feet and use their own wings, she may return to work. However, even then, interest in her now-grown children and their children will be far greater than any she can summon up for her job.

As you might expect, our paragon ages very gracefully. Those sure Instincts which led her to successful love in marriage and to success in rearing her children stand her in good stead now. She still loves to give, and she perceives the right time to give her children up, to let them stand on their own, learn the difficult uses of freedom. Admittedly this is a great sacrifice for a mother, but she is deeply pleased to make it. And in doing so without fuss or feathers, she wins her children’s regard and love forever.

I am very pleased to say that the menopause brings no diminution in her ability to enjoy her husband sexually. Contrary to what many people still think, her orgasm does not decrease in intensity or in kind. Increasing age and the absence of children in the home now bring her and her husband closer together again and, great companions, they develop a whole series of shared pleasures consistent with their years.

As she goes down into the other side of her middle years, she is not troubled with regrets for things left undone. She has a deep sense of fulfillment, of life lived rightly. And, whether she has become consciously religious or not, she is still, basically, a believer in immortality, for she has served it with her whole being. She looks on death totally unafraid, wondering perhaps what the Creator who has made her life such a marvel is like on an even closer view.

This, then, is the idealized picture of the truly feminine woman. While granting that the plane of maturity she has achieved is rather too exalted for most women to attain, I have given her to you for some very concrete reasons.

With merely this ideal to follow, I have seen many women reap immediate rewards some time before they were able to come to grips with their frigidity per se. The characteristics and neurotic goals that accompany frigidity often cause obvious domestic frictions that can be greatly reduced when the woman begins to see new horizons for herself—that she need not be blaming others. Her grateful husband will reward her at once for her change, with renewed affection and tenderness, a new solicitude, a new caring.

Our idealized portrait can help you, too, to grasp more thoroughly the rest of this book. We have found, in psychiatry, that when a goal has been clearly defined half the battle has been won. As we come now to the chapters on frigidity, its history, its whys and wherefores, kinds and causes and cures, you will have before you a picture of what the potentialities of women are, a landmark to show you how far our sex can stray from real femininity, a guide to keep you from confusion, from ever subscribing again to false and destructive ideas of what it is that constitutes real womanhood.

As I’ve said, our theme is outlining What To Do; namely, Do This and Do That. One of the better resources is Lori Alexander’s blog, The Transformed Wife, thetransformedwife.com. I don’t necessarily agree with all she says, but I like most of it. I have been amazed at how out-of-the-mainstream these traditionalist views have been, even in Christian circles.

I have a friend who is a lawyer, and he has three daughters. They were lovingly raised in a good (and intact) family. The second daughter was the sort of girl that loved children, and other soft, furry things like rabbits or horses. She was not very academically inclined, although she did what she was supposed to do to please her parents and teachers. Naturally, her mother took good care of her, and made sure she got adequate exercise and ate well. At age seventeen she was distractingly beautiful, an easy 9/10.

In another age, a girl like this would have distracted an appropriate man within her upper-middle-class social circle rather quickly, among the sort of proper social gatherings where parents would organize the meeting of such young men, would have been married by age 20, and would have had at least three children of her own by age 25, whom she would dote on in a continual stream of blissful maternal affection, while also keeping house industriously for her beloved husband.

But, instead, she was sent off to college — not a particularly outstanding one, as her academic background was not quite that strong. This did not particularly interest her, nor did she have the self-discipline to grind through it in spite of a lack of interest. Without her mother to take care of her, she quickly bloated up on a typical college junk-food diet, and crashed from a 9/10 to about a 4/10 in two years. Along the way she picked up a typical “bad boy” loser boyfriend, apparently with a drug habit. The last I heard she was unmarried but, her father suspected, pregnant — which is what she really wanted all along I think, but not that way.

Not all women are cut out to be career girls. Some are, actually, inclined to be mothers and housewives. It seems like these girls have nowhere to go these days.

I found this in the comments section of a YouTube post, and saved it. I don’t think “all women are like that.” This one is clearly a top-shelf turbo-slut. But, for many women today — I would say more than 50% in the U.S. — it is a matter mostly of degree. At least this woman had the good style to die young. Things often do not go well for these sorts after age 45, and then you still have to live for another 35 years. Along the way, women like this strew chaos and wreckage in the lives of anyone she comes in contact with, including her own children (if she had any).

***

Something you guys might be interested in. 

Years ago I became friends with a very hot blonde in her early 30’s, who was dying of cancer. Due to her impending death, she decided that it was okay to relay a vast amount of inside information to me, regarding what women were really all about. She volunteered this information. I have never forgotten what she told me, and it has served me quite well over the years. 

Here is a summary of the 10 critical things she told me about the true nature of women over the span of a couple of weeks, shortly before her passing: 

Point 1) Women are exactly like little children. We are constantly poking, prodding and testing a man, in order to find out what his boundaries are. If he has no boundaries, we will destroy him, especially if he loves us (more on this in Point 8, below). A man has to have boundaries, and he has to outline them precisely, and he has to force us to adhere to them with the power of his conviction and the power of his action. If he doesn’t do that, we will beat him over the head with his weaknesses (his lack of boundaries) until he breaks. 

Point 2) Women put up a false front about virtually everything. Our faces are fake (makeup), our hair is fake (dyed), our boobs are fake (some of us), everything about us is fake. Most especially when it comes to what is inside of us. We lie constantly, because we are far worse, characterwise, than even our closest friends or lovers will ever know, and we desperately fight to keep all of that hidden. We are looking for our true daddies, basically – the idealized daddies that we never had – somebody who can see through all of our false fronts and call us out on our bullshit and put us in our place. The problem is, those type of men are very few and far between. 

Point 3) If a woman ever tells you, “If we don’t have trust, we don’t have anything,” she is either cheating on you already, or she is planning to cheat on you. There are no exceptions to this rule. We use that as cover, to try and make the man feel guilty for questioning our fidelity. What we are really saying here, is, “I will fuck whomever I want and you’d better keep your nose out of it or I’ll cut you off from my pussy and I’ll ruin your freaking life if you keep pressing the issue.” If we really cared about you, and if we really weren’t cheating on you or planning to cheat on you, we would tell you something like, “I am not cheating on you, I love you, and I would never do that. I don’t care if we have to stay up all night, for the next week, and go over every single shred of doubt that’s currently troubling you about this. I have nothing to hide, I would never cheat on you, and I don’t want you thinking these things about me. Please tell me exactly why you think I am cheating, point by point, and I will do anything and everything that I have to do to prove to you that I’m not cheating, in order to ease your worried mind.” 

Point 4) Women are much hornier than men. Vastly, exponentially, hornier than men. A woman will do just about anything, sexually speaking, so long as she is fairly certain she won’t get caught. For example, we will occasionally go out of town in order to rendezvous with a man we’ve been longing to fuck, and/or to have multiple sex partners in the same evening, and/or at the same time. This is something that hot women do, most especially. In our minds, it is a natural desire, and a natural thing, and so long as nobody else finds out, it’s “game on”. Women are receptacles for cock, that’s how we have been biologically designed. Nothing feels better to us than being completely filled up with multiple penises, than being the center of sexual attention, than being the object of unbridled group lust. Since it’s something we can’t risk doing on our home turf (don’t shit where you eat), we have to think outside the box, in order to get our boxes completely satisfied. And you might find this shocking, but many women – many, many women – have sex with dogs on a routine basis. This is just one example of how insatiable we truly are. I can see why you might not believe it, to which I say, look really hard at all of the women you know who have dogs. Look at women who have dogs whenever you see them out on the street, in the act of walking those dogs. Or at the park. You will notice that most of them have male dogs – the vast majority, in fact. This isn’t a coincidence. And look at all the female teachers who are exposed in the media for having sex with underage students. We have no self-control when it comes to sex – or anything else, for that matter. To our way of thinking, losing control is what makes sex great. Doing anything that is taboo is what makes sex great. 

Point 5) Women do not have female friends. We have female competition. We lie to our so-called female friends and pretend we are loyal and faithful to them, just like we do with the men in our lives. Secretly, we are jealous of each other, and we want all of the desirable things that other women have – most especially when it comes to our female friends’ things. And we consider men to be things. If one of our friends has a hot man, we want him to want us. We will do everything we can to seduce him. Not because we really want him – we don’t really want anybody. We do it because we are rarely happy, and we don’t want our girlfriends to be happy, either, and we want to boost our own egos more than anything else. And after we get him to fuck us, when our girlfriends find out that he has had sex with us, that’s when we finally get what we wanted in the first place. If we break up the previously happy couple, that’s fine, too. It’s all about our pussy, not hers. It’s about winning. 

Point 6) Women want what they can’t have. If a guy doesn’t want us, it doesn’t matter who he is – if we have expressed an interest in him, and he blows us off, or laughs at us, or sees us for the piece of crap that we really are, it will make us feel miserable inside, and we will pursue him to the ends of the earth. 

Point 7) Women always lie about the number of sexual partners they have had. They also lie about not wanting men with large penises. If we told the actual truth about the number of different men and women we’ve slept with, and if we told the actual truth about our fervent desire for big dicks, our pool of potential suitors would shrink drastically, to the point where it would completely dry up. So we lie. Most often, we will claim that we’ve had between three and eight sexual partners in our lifetime. And, to our way of thinking, it isn’t a lie, because if we had five sexual partners last Saturday evening, and our man asks us how many sexual partners we have had, and we answer, “Five”, well, technically we aren’t lying. 

Point 8) All women hate themselves. And because we hate ourselves, we hate any man who doesn’t see through our bullshit. The more a man loves us, the more we hate him. The more he overlooks our sins, and the more he fails to see how corrupt we are, and the more he gives us the benefit of every single doubt – the more we despise him. We will escalate our bad behavior until we finally break him and he wakes up and realizes how worthless we are and what a fool he has been for believing in us. 

Point 9) Women don’t want a man who wants us. We want a man whom we can’t have. We want a man who honestly doesn’t give a fuck about us, who doesn’t care if we come or go. That’s the kind of man we will pursue. Call them bad boys or call them whatever you want, that’s the kind of man we want – period. The kind of guy who will make us orgasm, crudely, and give us a huge sexual thrill in the bedroom, and then discard us like used toilet paper, and fuck our female friends afterwards, just because he can. (Just like we would do with his male friends.)

Point 10) All women are masochists. And all hot women are narcissistic masochists. We hate it when things are going well, especially if they continue to go well for long periods of time. We know down deep that we are fucked-up and not worthy of anything that is truly good. So when things are going well in a relationship, we eventually sabotage it. We just can’t help ourselves in this regard. We could have the greatest, most handsome, most well-hung husband in the world – a one-of-a-kind man who makes all of our girlfriends jealous; we could have the greatest children in the world, who are beautiful, well-behaved and ambitious; we could have the most enviable career imaginable; we could have all of the money and prestige and the truly good things in life, and we could repeatedly tell ourselves over and over, and believe, on the surface, that we would never cheat on our husbands. But down deep we know that it’s a lie. Because one day, we could walk into a grocery store, and some bad boy could whisper just the right combination of words in our ear, and the next thing you know, we’re at the Motel 6 getting it in the ass. That’s just how we are, and any woman – especially a hot woman – who says otherwise, is a liar. 

Over the years, my deceased friend’s words have proven to be spot-on, in the vast majority of cases. And if they ring true from your own personal experience as well, then I am more than happy that I shared them with you here today. I know that my deceased friend would be thrilled to know that I have shared this information with the manosphere. After all, she used to be a conniving hottie, and she’s now dead, and by giving me the inside scoop on her female competition, she continues to beat them – she continues to “win” – even from beyond the grave…

Sometimes, regarding sex, a woman asks: “What can I do to please you?” Although any man might like a good back rub, in the end you want to get to the Main Event, and here the answer is always the same: “I want you to have a chain of brain-melting orgasms that leave you a quivering heap of pleasure.” To achieve this, men generally take the active role, and women the passive; or perhaps, as in dancing, both are active in their way, but the man takes the leadership role. Men do to; women are done to. Women are usually pretty happy about this. This is “good sex.” Unfortunately, I think it is rare these days.

From this, you can extend to relationships between men and women in many aspects.