While I haven’t seen Christine in years, every time we catch up the conversation ends with her saying something like, “well, as long as you’re happy…” She doesn’t understand why I’ve never left the suburbs, nor have I had any real desire to do so. Even more troubling to Christine, the idea that I may be happy with this.

For a conscious man wading through the muck of modern treachery, yes, I am fairly happy. Living in the city never appealed to me; there is nothing better than a quiet summer night. Everything I need is a car ride away, and since I was never really much of a drinker, I rarely had to face the quandary of getting home from a bar.

But, like always, there was more at stake than what Christine could understand. We may as well have been playing out roles on a reality TV show- not exactly scripted, but loosely scripted. It was hardly a genuine conversation. Even if neither party felt the overt grasp of invisible puppet strings guiding our interaction- our thoughts, our feelings, our desires, our identity- they are deeply present regardless of our being conscious of them.

Understanding the presence of these puppet strings is what separates the conscious man from the unconscious man. Understanding the depth of their control dictates the level of consciousness. And understanding the true power of these influences can make a man omniscient.

Let’s start at the beginning: we are animals who want to fuck.

When I was younger, sex seemed like something compartmentalized to me. Thinking back to an even younger age, “playing outside” had this same compartmentalization. “Playing outside” was an item on a list of possible things to do with free time; it wasn’t something that took precedence over anything else. You could play Nintendo, you could watch WWF tapes, you could play outside, you could play with your He-Man toys, you could watch a movie. There was no greater depth of reality or separation between what was artificial and what was real; similarly, for years I thought the phrase connecting with nature was just bullshit hippy talk.

And when I got a little older, my initial understanding of sexuality had the same kind of compartmentalization. It was an item on a menu of ways an adult can spend his time; albeit, a not always readily accessible item. Adults got together because they liked each other- be it some kind of mutual interest, or maybe they got along real well like buddies, or they decided that having a relationship would be a darn good fit– and they had sex because they got together. I knew sometimes women were promiscuous and had one-night-stands, but, they said those were mistakes. I understood mistakes.

I’ll never forget the morning this all changed. I was standing in front of her locker, before first period. This girl… I had liked her for weeks, but had recently said fuck it. Every other time I had liked a girl I found a way to mess it up. So I was just gonna keep to myself… read, work-out, have fun… and forget about girls, because I was unlikable and that’s just what it was. This girl… just fucking beautiful. Big blue anime eyes, and an awkward smile… tiny waist but big hips and a full chest, just screaming with teenage fertility.

And before first period, our eyes met… and the whole world seemed to slow down a bit. I couldn’t really tell you how long we stood there, but it felt like a lifetime. My heart raced, and I got a throbbing fucking hard-on. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt anything so real again; certainly not recently- there is a diminishing return on stuff like that. You only get so many tickets to scratch off.

Connecting with nature. This was connecting with nature. We are animals who want to fuck, and civilization was structured by using this primal truth to its greatest end.

I fucking love “Teen Mom.” If you ever hit a lull in conversation on a date, ask her about TV; all women love TV. So when I told the Single Jewish Woman that I fucking love “Teen Mom,” she rationalized it away by saying it was my “guilty pleasure TV show,” which would be the case if I were guilty.

But I fucking love “Teen Mom.” I think the godamn show is genius. If you want to talk reality, take a look at Amber’s desperation as Gary attempts to erase her from her daughter’s life, and the absolute delight he shows in manipulating her instability; there is a major case for sympathizing with Amber, but to what extent is she to blame for her own problems? Or how about the tremendous insecurity that Catelynn clumsily attempts to cover as she continues to gain weight despite getting diabetes! Watching Tyler become a fucking man with having to deal with his retarded family, his obese wife, and his recovering addict Dad… Butch’s struggle with recovery, knowing the devastation it’s caused his son. Maci, the Feminist Alpha Widow, still clearly in love with Ryan while exploiting cucks in his place and raising her son to be the cuckiest cuck of all time… and Farrah, the awful product of a beta-man with money mating with an aging beauty; she’s half-pretty, half-goofy, calls her dickless father by his first name, and is a fucking train wreck to deal with… but as a faithful viewer of Teen Mom, you have enough distance to revel in her misfortune and certain doom- God bless the Teen Mom producers, they are always sure to show the bitch get hers in the end.

“Teen Mom” is slick enough to operate on three levels. On the surface, you’re supposed to empathize with the hard working single moms who are doing everything they can in order to make ends meet and raise their kid. This is the typical “single mom narrative” that Hollywood started to push in the 90s, and was across the board in saturation (ie: Mrs. Doubtfire, Terminator 2). This is how an MTV executive would describe the show to you.

The subtext of this is making fun of white trash. The cast of “Teen Mom” was chosen deliberately, ranging on the far end of white trash- Honey Boo Boo territory- with Catelynn and Tyler, to mid-range white trash with Amber and Gary, to the least offensive bit of white trash with Maci and Ryan, which makes sense as Maci is meant to be the “hero character” for the show- or, in other words, she exists so you theoretically can’t accuse of MTV of exploitation. Farrah, while not exactly white trash, is the show’s villain- but, of course, still on a subtextual level.

The third layer of “Teen Mom” is synthesis and social conditioning: white trash people have kids young. The takeaway of “Teen Mom” is for the viewer to understand that young people aren’t meant to have children; having children will get in the way of college, and career, and partying, and dating. Having children young will force a girl to relinquish freedom in favor of responsibility; and giving up freedom will get in the way of her desire to maximize selection.

I never felt that kind of emotional intensity again like I had with Jessica that morning by her locker before first period. We’re meant to mate young; evolution doesn’t care about college and partying. Teenage love is a brain trip to get us out of our clothes and fucking like animals; sympathetic love is so that a man doesn’t let his bloated and pregnant wife get eaten by mountain lions, and marriage is meant to keep us together after the intensity of youth becomes irritability and resentment.

We aren’t these special unique portraits; we’re more like paint-by-numbers. It’s your job to find contentment within that paradigm.

Females desire the maximization of selection, and men compete with one-another to be selected.

Take that sentence and write it on your hand. Repeat it every night before you go to bed. Keep it in the back of your head when you talk to someone. This is the foundation for understanding people.

In this regard, “Teen Mom” functions as a cautionary tale where women unwittingly diminish their ability to be selective; stay away from kids, and commitment, and responsibility, says MTV, or you’ll be like these icky white trash girls…

Christine liked living in a city because it maximized her ability to be selective. Her cool girl gimmick was a tool meant to disqualify the competition, and beyond that all Christine had to do was show up somewhere and stand there. Men would approach and she could either reject or accept their advances. This is sexual selection, and sexual selection is a woman’s primary strategy for mating. This is why women love living in a big city; the greatest possible potential for selection met with the fantasy of the most desirable men to choose from.

When taken to its logical end, this is why women love globalism. Globalism represents the greatest maximization of sexual selection, even beyond city living; where the world becomes one big city, and all Christine has to do is stand there looking cool.

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