Be advised: this thread is not for serious in-depth discussion of weighty topics (we have a link for that), this thread is not for anything Culture War related. This thread is for Fun. You got jokes? Share 'em. You got silly questions? Ask 'em.
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Notes -
Not sure why "redpiller" was brought-up in a chain about a film being blackpilling, but I suppose I’m sufficiently somewhere on the continuum between red and blackpilled (as opposed to bluepilled) on life that I’ll play along.
And this is a false dilemma. I don’t see why I need to decide on anything in this moment, what I have to decide on, much less how my hypothetical decision would be pertinent to a discussion on what men in general may find sucky or horrifying.
Sure, that’s a worthy contribution—as I remarked just a bit further down: “At least, in the film, that sloppy third receiving schmuck was presumably the biological father of those children (I think).”
I suppose it’s somewhat of a favor, since via evolutionary psychology/biology, a given offspring—all else equal—is more psychologically/biologically costly to the mother (e.g., Rose) than the father (e.g., nameless, sloppy third schmuck). However, it’s hardly a complete favor (to say the least), as the offspring are hers too (and with greater assurances: mother’s baby, father’s maybe). In ${CurrentYear}, babies’ mommas and egg donors/surrogates can provide a man with children too, and without the requisite of lifetime commitment or serving as a retirement plan for an alpha-widow.
You clearly don’t, because I’m certainly not one that pines for “everything,” much less wanting to be “loved for who you are.” It’d be nice to be “loved for who you are” unconditionally, just as it’d be nice to win the lottery, but it’d be foolish for men to want to be “loved for who you are,” whatever that may mean. Hence why I remark from time to time about the inegalitarian nature of male sexual success, and reference links such as Chris Rock on how men are only loved conditionally at best.
I’m under no illusion: If I suddenly became three inches shorter, lost 1/3 of my muscle mass, permanently lost my hair, lost a fight in front of her, cried in front of her for whatever reason, etc., pretty much any of the girls I’m dating or have dated would lose some or much of their attraction for me, maybe even ditch me altogether. If I were three inches shorter, bald, had only 2/3 of my muscle mass at the time, had little or no social media preselection or social proof to engender female mate-choice copying, I’d guess over 90% of my one-night-stands, flings, friends with benefits, and relationships would never have happened in the first place.
It would be unpleasant from an immediate emotional standpoint, losing their attraction and/or getting ditched in such circumstances—but zooming out: such is life; it is what it is. (The three/3/90% should be thought of as arbitrary constants, I just put in numbers for illustrative purposes).
It’s not unrealistic nor hypocritical for men to expect that they’re first place in their lifetime partner’s heart, that they’re the primary landholder in their lifetime partner’s emotional landscape. Hardly a tall ask.
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