Getting over it.

So I've been hearing things about this Mark Minter fellow. First from the Good Doctor, then from other sources. About how this fellow supposedly betrayed all the guys on the manosphere by doing all the wrong things.

As I've written before, leave like a goddamned gentleman. Okay, so I understand that some people, myself included, find that most modern women fail a cost-benefit analysis, and that it's probably not a good idea to hold out hope of attracting someone suited to be a life partner in this MMV. That doesn't mean you can't learn game anyway, become the most interesting man in the world, or find another avenue to improve yourself as a person.

Long ago, there were outlets for people who didn't want to or couldn't enter that reproductive building block of society known as marriage (please, no ahistorical protests on the lines of marriage is for love, thank you very much. Infertility was always a valid reason for divorce) and went on to do other things. Enter monasteries and nunneries. Become governesses and old maids and live off daddy's trust. Become a philosopher. Become a wise woman (in the eras when these weren't labelled "witch", that is). Devote your life to your craft. If gammas really are as intelligent as Vox puts them, then these might very well have been the outlets for such people.

But hey, since we're taught sex and romantic love is everything these days, might as well roll with the punches, eh?

If you do find that unspoilt dream woman and you have some sort of evidence that against all odds and countless men believing their cupcake will never do that to them, go ahead. Hey, there are people who have lucked out, I know some of them.

Leave like a gentleman. Get over it. Outcome independence. Do something else. Drop out of the playground and go over to plant your own seeds and build your sandcastle in that little plot over there. Dropping out does not mean caving in. Lift weights. Read books. Learn survival skills. Prepare for ITZ. Maybe if you do make yourself the most interesting man in the world, who knows, you might luck out and snag the most sane woman in the world.

Don't howl and hoot and scream and yell just because your idol turned out to have feet of clay.