Women love selfish men more.

This confounds good hearted men. They want to love and love deeply. They want to give to their woman, and their family. To share a deep and lifelong bond.

But the women keep taking advantage of kindness, work to gain hand in the relationship, relegate the man to his garage man cave (otherwise known as his servants quarters) and then leave the guy for the bad-boy play-boy banker or biker.

You have to be cruel to be kind. You have to treat em mean to keep em keen. If you really want to make them happy, you have to put yourself first. It’s the only way she’ll respect you, and without respect she can never love you.

Long time and respected commentor T writes:

For example, the whole incident you, xsplat, had with that girl who had the psychotic breakdown and ended up in an institution. You often mention it with pride, that she loved you so much that she went crazy. That she cried to sleep everyday. Although you never make that point overtly, it almost seems like you are encouraging others to do the same. But many men cannot live with the idea that they may have ruined someone’s life like that. Of course, this often balances out with the other stories of you paying a girls expenses even after breaking up until she can stand on her feet.

There are two things happening here, you are talking about making a girl fall for you, whereas this asdf guy is asking, at what cost to everyone else.

Like I said, it is hard to make that kind of argument in this blog because the blog itself is intended at a hedonistic mindset, whereas the argument comes from an altruistic one.

To which I responded :

I hear what you are saying that sometimes girls get heart broken. I’m not sure if I’ve broken hearts more than my heart has been broken. Often times there is little heartbreak. Sometimes it is very deep. That’s just an inevitable part of dating, as far as I can see it.

And when dating is replaced by marriage, it usually winds up that you either merely delay the heartbreak, or replace it with boredom, frustration, and quiet desparation.

I understand that I’m likely to be biased, and would prefer not to see my actions as detrimental, so I’d accept the data of what the girls say. Do they regret having been close with me? Mostly not. Only one girl later had misgivings. Mostly I hear a lot of gratitude, even so much as “just to know that there is someone in the world like you”. Or that I opened up their sex life, and thus vastly improved their life. They say good things, years after. They thank me.

So I don’t see that the heartbreak that I receive or give is a negative. That’s just how dating works, and overall, dating is a positive. At least the way I do it feels that way, and I’m told that it is.

I can see how the me-first approach to dating might come across as a me-only approach. But the style of dating that I put forth has a large element of romance to it. There is love, affection, appreciation. But all on the mans terms. So you have to pay closer attention to notice that there is a difference between a me-only approach and a me-first approach. The woman is the daughter, the man the Daddy – care is built into the dynamic.


When a guy puts himself first, the relationship is on his terms. His house becomes his space, and the woman is a guest. A guest who is free to leave if she is not happy. Paradoxically, this lessening of concern for the woman makes her happier. Makes the both of you happier.

I was married once, and the wife insisted that she owned the kitchen. I thought that was a radical thing for a feminist to say, but didn’t fight her on it.

We didn’t have a TV back then, but if we did we would have chosen what to watch by consensus. And by consensus I mean that if she wasn’t pleased with the show I would have “compromised”.

I had my office, and later invested in a school bus that I was going to convert into a man cave.

I was often unhappy and found her to often be an oppressive, nagging, and bullying presence. “Get with the program” was her favorite saying.

I was 24 and doing my best. And to me at the time that meant trying to get along and baby sit her hysterical mind and trying to maintain some sanity in the house.

Flash forward to today. I own the remote, and watch whatever the hell I want, when I want. All of the house is mine. Every inch of it. My live in companions are guests, no matter how much tenure they have accumulated. I let the girl have a favored side of the bed, and I’ll allow her to place decorations and photos here and there, but that’s as far as it goes. My whole house is my man cave. The girl adjusts to it – I don’t adjust to her. And if the girl tries to throw around moods I tell her to get out of my house. No moods allowed. There has been no nagging in my life for a long time – since I was married, I think. It’s not tolerated, and is abruptly cut off with a “don’t nag me”, even for speech that just infringes on nagging territory.

I live well and easily with women – there is very little conflict, and the house is usually pleasant and harmonious – loving, even. Yes, I’d say quite loving. I’m used to that, and I know how to create it. It’s easy now.

But it’s MY house. My house, my rules. There is no “our” in mine.