It did work out, but life intervened (she passed away).

I completely agree with what you said. It’s what I advise every forlorn man I know to do – the probability of finding a solid woman in or from a non-European country is much higher than finding one here or in Europe. Yes, they exist here. But so do great artists and conservative academics. Very, very rare.

They will reveal to you what has not been seen in the US for some odd decades.

Self control is one thing that one cannot allow in one’s slaves. It’s a little bit counter productive.

Merely breed them out of it and out of those rebellious attitudes too.

For the Left, they need fodder, and a sex starved army of youths is as good as any. They already have Jews working their banks with Soros. They already have inner city blacks. They already have homosexuals of one stripe or another.

The Left’s power knows no bounds. Probably because nobody has bothered to kill them yet.

Very interesting stuff. I’ve studied my fair share of EP and I know generally about PUA culture, but still – the more I learn about the latter, the more I think they’re onto something.

To wit, a personal anecdote:

I’m young enough to have both been in college when sexual habits among teenagers began to really go off the rails and (consequently) to have faced the bleak prospect of seeking a lifelong love amidst the wreckage.

Eventually I was lucky enough to find the perfect woman – but she was foreign, from a much more traditional culture (my understanding is that there is a part of the manosphere that recommends just that – going foreign [which doesn’t mean European, of course]). That ended tragically (I won’t go into it), but otherwise my dating life in the world of American women has been one long process of disillusionment – an education in cynicism, scorn, and distrust.

I’ve never told my parents what life – everyday, ordinary life – at my undergraduate institution was like. I only maintained my integrity by isolating myself, remaining aloof, and burying my head in books. Luckily I have a vivid moral imagination, so the old “Could I comfortably face myself in the mirror after this?” test worked wonders for me.

Evidently it doesn’t work so well for others. It definitely does not work well for (many? most?) women.

Perhaps it is improper to bring this stuff up here, but given the subject matter I’ll assume it’s not out of line. Speaking strictly from personal experience, the hardest part about finding a mate as a normal decent man (a beta, if you will) is the constant lying that women are now forced to engage in, precisely to present themselves as “non-damaged goods.”. Any decent man spends a good deal of time agonizing about what skeletons are piled up in the closet of this seemingly solid woman he’s now interested in. It’s gotten so bad that, if a woman doesn’t mention her past, one can safely conclude that there’s a damn good reason for that. Chances are it’s not exactly past either. Caveat emptor.

I once dated a woman who I guessed had a sordid past, simply because she never talked about it. As the sagacious Eddie Murphy once said, I assumed (correctly – see below) that this was because she was afraid a bone would fly out of her mouth. When she finally did open up after six months it was even worse than I’d imagined – she had (in her words) “lost count” of how many men she had slept with, and she didn’t even know their names half of the time. “It wasn’t 100,” I remember her saying, as if to comfort me.

For good measure, she’d also had plastic surgery. Which was good to know.

I asked her why she lived like that. She told me that it had nothing to do with wanting sex. She was in a big city and terribly lonely, and she craved any form of companionship. So I guess the logical conclusion to her was to run down to the local club, grab a random man, take him home and exchange sex for a night of “togetherness.” Apparently she’d had a boyfriend once upon a time who, upon breaking up with her, told her that it was because he wasn’t attracted to her, so there was also the desire to feel desired (hence the plastic surgery).

I have to be honest – listening to this tale simply turned my stomach. Perhaps it shouldn’t have affected whatever feelings I had for her in the present, but it did, and in a decisive way (I broke up with her). I felt manipulated, in the first place – she knew what kind of guy I was, and so she knew that if she’d told me earlier I never would have started dating her. I considered it a deliberate lie, presenting herself as the kind of woman I’d have liked her to be instead of the kind of woman she was (or at least “used to be”). I also felt like a fool for choosing to go with my hope that her constant omission of her dating life (really, sex life – there wasn’t really all that much dating to speak of) prior to me was a mere oversight, instead of with my firm suspicion otherwise.

More devastatingly, I suddenly found her – there is no other word for it – disgusting. Undoubtedly this is deeply rooted male psychology. Every time I thought about her, from that moment onward, there was not one but two notions in my head – her, and “It wasn’t 100.”

Thus, bye bye.

Prior to this there were no problems in the relationship – I don’t date unless I’m serious, and it would seem she didn’t either (one night stands, I suppose, were for the “not serious” category). But I couldn’t trust her anymore.

This is just one example. There are others.