There is a geno-suicidal tragedy going on, in the wealthy and productive nations that might be called “the First World.” It’s an elementary problem – we aren’t bringing forth enough children to replace our numbers. This is especially true of the “best and brightest” – the highly-educated ones, the ambitious ones, the ones you could say are contributing the most to Society (in terms of their career-value to the Future).
The most-praised, the most-admired, the most-privileged of our Society … if ambition and “smarts” were heritable, their children could be the “best and brightest” in their own turn. But, instead, their children won’t even be born – because here is an even greater scarcity of men who are better-educated, higher-status, and “desirable” enough to marry. And those men who DO “pass the checklist” – i.e. they’re tall, attractive, wealthy and well-educated – are interested in younger, prettier women who are less ambitious and more pleasant. And the men who are less-educated, less-privileged, lower-status – but have the disposition to be loving husbands and devoted fathers? They are beneath notice; they carry out their jobs, their duties, their contributions to Society like colorless grey ciphers that aren’t even seen to exist.
And, evidently, it’s all our fault that we aren’t even seen to exist. The women around us see us as infra dignitatem, and they blame us for it. Well, all I can say is that I will not contest the accusation. And that this fault-finding comes too late in my life for me to even care – or, alternatively, that it comes at such a time in my life that I am not disposed to surrender the rest of my life to the indentured servitude of “married life” and a very-possibly-fraudulent assignation of “fatherhood.” (As in, I could give the rest of my life, plus my fortune and my sacred honor, raising the children of another man – or other men.)
What is my “crime against fecundity,” for which I enter my assertion of ”nolo contendere“? Simple: I didn’t get married and don the Golden Yoke of Husband-hood when I was of a suitable age to do so. And I was “conventional” enough that I didn’t get any young woman pregnant “out of wedlock”. I felt honor-bound NOT to do so, and I took the best precautions a man could take (well, the second-best, if you say the “best” is voluntary sterilization i.e. vasectomy) to prevent it. As far as I know, I was successful – meaning I have not, to date, received a Father’s Day card signed “Guess Who!”
This “crime” was aggravated by the fact that I didn’t work my ass off to climb the ladder of fortune and fame. I did “make myself a name,” in an incredibly-tiny niche … but I concentrated on taking care of the mother that raised me, rather than preparing to raise a family of my own.
So, now, there are people – some might hold themselves as “my kin” – who see me as guilty of self-centered refusal to Man Up … decades ago, when I was “eligible” to raise a family. I didn’t have a college degree then, either … I don’t have one now. But somehow I parlayed the knowledge I did develop into a final career of teaching college-grads how to do a necessary job, about which I’d literally “written the book.” A triumph of knowledge over “credentials”.
But it didn’t get me married-off, did it? It didn’t get me to sire children and raise them to be good citizens in their own time, did it?
And now … I regard “now” as “too late.” Way too late.
There is an “adoptive family” in my life, where once there was a family of shared bloodlines. I have one “real’ relative in my life, one last relative whose life is well-and-thoroughly enmeshed with my own, and she is 91 years old … and dementia has set in, unmistakably. There is one cousin of my age who has acknowledged contact with me – and all I can think is “What the hell do I have to offer Becky, as a relative; what earthly good would I bring to her life, that she’s evaded for the last thirty-plus years?”
I would like to believe that I would have been a good partner for some woman of my age, and a good father for her children. Those children might have grown up knowing “Aunt Becky” and “Uncle Johnnie,” and Becky’s children as their cousins. It’s way too late now; I’m almost sixty, and a woman of my age would probably be past menopause. There will be no eggs fertilized from my testicles.
If you say I’m “guilty” of not being-fruitful-and-multiplying, all I can say is “Nolo contendere” – I will not contest your accusation, because it doesn’t matter (especially to you!) why I didn’t get married and give my everything to some woman and, incidentally (and maybe!) to her children.
I’d rather drink myself to death.
Why women lose the dating game (Sydney Morning Herald, 21 Apr 2012) is the biggest motive for this article.
Aussie ‘Professional Women Left Single – Can’t Understand Why (MGTOW Forums, 21 Apr 2012) cued me in to the Sydney Morning Herald article.
The plow horse and the princess (A Voice For Men, 19 Apr 2012) is a metaphorical exposition of the situation, and a very suitable fairy-tale for any child who you would like to raise in a more male-friendly fashion!
And there’s this one, a video from SaveTheMen – The War On Women – that frankly dismisses the concept of that “war” by pointing out what WAR really is. Guess what? WAR means weapons of mass destruction, death dealt out wholesale, artillery and iron bombs and explosives and REAL inhumanity. The pallid “disrespect” that women and their manginatic apologists describe, are no more than “disagreements” compared to the wholesale real-death, real-evisceration, hot-lead slaughter that conscripted men face in the trenches and the IED-strewn killing fields of WAR. Ladies, how dare you compare your minor discomfiture with the guy who’s left staring at his own bowels strung on a fence of concertina wire?!!