Getting into this box is what's best for both of us. During your time in the box, you will learn so much, and yet experience so little. It's a wild ride, my friend, one well worth the time spent...and let's face it, you don't have much to do these days anyway.

Monday, 31 December 2012

The white picket fence dream.

For those who're unfamiliar with the term (despite me using it quite a lot), the white picket fence dream refers to a dream that I daresay many men even in this day and age still share: a stable job, a happy and loving family with a wife and kids, a small but comfortable home, and of course, the white picket fence that goes around the lot.

I think you can imagine what I'm trying to describe here; it's not just part of the American Dream, but part of the dream of a good portion of men everywhere. Can't speak for women, but I imagine a number of them want it too, judging not just by red-pill women, but various articles I've found highlighting that more women are desiring to stay at home these days. Seems like Average Jane is finding out that "having a career" and making someone else richer for nine to twelve hours a day isn't as rich and fulfilling as it's supposed to be, but Average Joe's known that for quite some time now. My recently married sister quit her job, citing "burnout". Yeah, let's hear Average Joe tell Average Jane he's suffering from "burnout" and needs an indefinite amount of time off work to relax and catch his breath. Let's see how well that goes over.


I remember in my blue-pill days that I wanted this dream pretty badly. There's not enough space for a picket fence here in Singapore unless you're filthy rich, considering that most of the population is stacked up upon one another like so many lego bricks, but a large, snuggly four to five-room apartment is the equivalent over here of your little house in the suburbs with a lawn and garage.

I also remember visiting one of my paternal uncles. We do this every Chinese New Year anyways, to see my paternal grandmother, but there was one particular instance which stood out to me.  I was about seventeen at the time, and we were going to sit down for a proper dinner instead of the drinks and snacks that we usually have during our usual short-ish visit (owing to various reasons). It was me, my parents, my uncle and his family, and extra seats had been placed around the table for us. My aunt was then pregnant with my cousin (their fourth) and had roped in my other three cousins in setting the table while she and my uncle made small talk with my parents. Being nowhere here nor there, what with not quite being an adult and yet not quite a child, I settled for laying back and observing my surroundings - and my eyes wandered over to my uncle.

I recall he looked particularly gaunt and overworked (not that he ever had or has much meat on his bones, when I asked my dad about it), not too far off from Paul Elam's description of his Uncle Walter, unlike Dr. Elam's uncle, my uncle looked truly happy.

Despite him looking like he was literally working himself to death -

Despite his eyes being quite thoroughly bloodshot from lacking enough sleep -

Despite the veins that crisscrossed his arms and the calluses on his hands -

He looked truly happy. He had energy as he directed the proceedings with my aunt and grandmother, drawn from some immense wellspring hidden within his thin frame. He smiled, smiled a lot, and truly meant it - you know the saying about smiling with your lips and eyes? That was him, as he herded my three cousins to their seats.

I know that it goes against general red pill thinking, that most PUAs would immediately denounce him as hopelessly beta, and MGTOWs call him stupid for not just allowing himself to be a workhorse, but taking pleasure in that status to boot. True, he has some things going in his favour - I've never seen him take any nonsense from my grandmother, aunt, cousins, or anyone for that matter. I guess he's still reasonably fit, tall and good-looking despite his frame (he still has a full head of hair while my dad and other uncles are balding pretty badly now). I suppose he has what some would call natural alpha tendencies.

His happiness was infectious, too, so I guess he has natural charisma with a tendency to bring others into his own frame. Despite all the stereotypes about pregnant women and hormones, my aunt looked pretty happy - and had been that way every time I'd seen her together with my uncle. My cousins looked happy, too. And even my paternal grandmother, who generally is a sourpuss (and has had numerous arguments with my mother), looked happy.

And I remember sitting down at the table, taking it all in, and feeling truly envious of my uncle. This magical, elusive thing that he had going on for himself which possessed his entirety and drove him onward - I wanted it, too. In that moment, I would have jumped through hoops, run over broken glass and swum through seas of fire if it meant that some day, one day, I could be sitting at a table with my extended family like my uncle was doing and feel as happy as he did.

Then I learned that in all probability, my uncle is a massive outlier and even if I swam through fire it wouldn't make the tiniest iota of difference; all it'd mean was that I'd be burnt beyond recognition at the end of it all with nothing left to show for it save maybe the Sword of Damocles having dropped from its hair and through my heart.

I learned that even if I managed to beat all the unbelievable odds stacked against me and achieved what my uncle had, it could be all taken from me with no warning, for no reason. And if I had achieved that and lost it, there would be no doubt as to where I'd end up - swinging from the rafters. Oneitis for women, I can harden my heart and give up, even if it will be difficult. Oneitis for my children, I would rather die than lose them.

Go on, mock me.

And what unbelievable odds might I face, you ask? I've mentioned one or two reasons before, yes. Suffice to say it's not too different from Cappy Cap's list in his cartel post, with a handful more points added for my personal taste. But here's Cappy Cap's list, for starters:

1.  Be in shape.
2.  Be nice.
3.  Be kind.
4.  Be reasonably intelligent.
5.  Be responsible/adult/mature.

Pretty simple, eh? Most unlike the long lists that stretch from the profiles of so many dating sites. A couple more points from my side for personal preference:

6. Be maternally-minded. I would never feel morally comfortable with asking someone else to completely give up their desires in life to fit mine, so any hypothetical wife material would have to want this to begin with. Yes, beta beta beta and all that, but there are some lines I won't cross.
7. Be financially responsible. (My own mom's a prime example of this; she chews me out for buying 60-cent broccoli instead of 50-cent broccoli) It shocks me, when I listen in on idle chatter in the lab, how many ladies in my degree don't even bother taking stock of their money. These are women who can do advanced calculus, so not knowing maths is not the problem.
8. Be pro-life, at least on a personal level.
9. Be possessed of the moral fortitude and self-awareness to, if during dating, refuse me if I attempt to game her into explicit sexual activity despite evident desire on her part.

Yeah, there's no doubt my uncle lucked out. I honestly don't think this is too stringent a list. Mrs. Judgybitch has another list with more points and of course we'd love to have plenty, but we guys are taught from a young age we don't get to have everything in life and have to make the best of what we realistically can get.

And yet somehow, this list seems like it's impossible to fill.

Now, I could apply myself. I'm finishing up my degree in chemical engineering now; I could have a decent starting salary once I come out into the petrochemical, biochemical or pharmaceutical industries. Enough to dress better than I currently do and have something in the way of future prospects, at the very least. I'm learning game, slowly but surely, practising basic concepts such as negs, agree and escalate, and putting on a mask of amused mastery/aloofness (or at least, what hopefully passes for one) on some of the lab ladies (mostly the nerdy/chubby hb2s to 4s. Baby steps, baby steps). Let's just say the response has been immediate and encouraging, not that I intend to take anything anywhere save my self-confidence.

Despite all this, though, even if I did find someone who filled this list, it won't change the lopsided local laws, and that damned Sword of Damocles threatens again with risks I can't accept. So, should I be complaining about the situation when I'm not going to be able to change anything about it and not take the risks, either?

As I touched upon in my post about my grandma's hypergamy, I would have worked like a dog for my family, but it's clear by now to anyone in the manosphere that beta bucks is hardly a reliable mating strategy these days. I can learn game, but no matter how alpha you become, there'll always be someone more alpha - as the old Chinese saying goes, "there is always one mountain taller than the other", and no single man can beat Pimp Daddy G.

And if there're any ladies reading this: despite the tediously maintained deceptions about all of us men as rapists, murderers, liars, cheaters and the like, most of us actually like you, or at least, used to like you. Sure, there are and always have been shitty men, but there are and always have been shitty women; we're all humans.

It's why we gave you Prohibition before you had the vote, it's why we gave you the vote when not all men had it either, then repealed Prohibition on your say-so. It's why we kept you safe when the world was a shitty place to live in, then let you out when the world was safer thanks to technological progress and let you do as you pleased. It's why my great-grandfather was shot during the early phase of the invasion of China by Japan back in the late 1920s, giving my great-grandmother and the rest of the family time to escape (it's sort of ironic how my grandmother emigrated to Malaya to get away from the Japanese, and they caught up with her anyways). It's why I see guys jumping through hoops and begging for some sort, any sort of female approval and validation.

Barbarossa scornfully calls this "male mother need".

If patriarchy had really existed in the fashion the feminists claimed it had, we'd all have backhanded you in the face when you started demanding things and sent you back to the sammich mines. Do as you will, just don't complain about the consequences and demand we "man up" and save you from them later. You can have a bite of the equality you claim to so desire and live with some of the consequences of your actions like men do, since Pimp Daddy G and his welfare checks can't give you intimacy.

But back to the point. I've grown to accept that what my uncle has is extremely rare and is completely dependent on the goodwill of my aunt, who thankfully by all appearances has plenty of moral fortitude to not wring him for all he's worth and kick him out the door. I've grown to accept I may never have what he has, no matter how dilligently I work towards those ends.

Who knows? Virtual sex is already coming out; maybe we'll get virtual families before the collapse comes. Oh god, I'm getting pessimistic again.

The white picket fence is dead, or at least, so rare that looking for it might as well account to looking for Lemuria or Atlantis.

Although I hear Atlantis isn't a bad place to live if you can find your way there.

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