Overcoming K-Selection

When I fist ran into the ‘sphere, it had a legitimate nauseating effect on my stomach. How could men get sex so easily? How could you do such deplorable things to women and simply go about your day? Where are all the emotions that are supposed to come with love? How is it fair that these guys get to ruin hundreds of women while I struggle to get one?

You might be tempted to say that those are blue pill questions, but you’d only be half right. Those are questions coming from a mind with an inherent K-Selection bias.

How do I know I’m K-Selected? After all, both my parents are your run of the mill Libtards. Im going to base this classification on family formation and business acumen. My parents and both sets of grand parents got married once, and stayed married. Out of the 4 aunts and uncles I have that got married, only one is divorced. Both my grandfathers are/were buisness owners. My father is selling his business next month for a little under a million dollars. The uncles on my dads side are retired military, and a surgeon that makes bucketloads of money. The uncles on my moms side are a plumber (who married a woman who makes big money with microsoft, hey it does happen…), and the one how got divorced, a career roughneck. (heh…)

The point of this long speech is to clarify that, yes, a strong K-Selection bias runs through both my families. They usually marry for life. They are competitive in the world of finance. They look out for the family. I know that anyone of them would take me in as a basement bum if they were pressed. All of them but my mom and dad are socially and financially conservative.

Growing up a cafeteria catholic, casual sex was never expressly forbidden… but… every example I ever had to go on was of two people who held themselves to extremely high standards, and waited patiently, for that one person to come along who met or exceeded those standards. Simply fucking was what the barbarians did. You needed an alliance. You needed deep love. You needed to be married.

Its no surprise that when the hormones hit I floundered. I lamented to my folks that I wanted what they had. I was met with tired tropes.

“You need a woman like a fish needs a bicycle.”

“Just be yourself.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“You’re not ready for love yet. Sex bonds you to another in a way you can’t comprehend.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if she landed if your bed.”

Gee guys. Thanks for all the awesome advice. At 18 I got my first girlfriend. She was a 23 year old virgin in her junior year at the Catholic college. I refused to fuck her because I was worried about the consequences. I figured we would date for like nine months, get married, and that would be it.

I got dumped.

So I decided it wasn’t worth it. I stole four bottles of smirnoff from my parents booze cabinet and went with a few friends to a college party. It was there I met an extremely short Canadian girl who had recently been dumped by her boyfriend. We bitched and moaned about our relationships and ended up having very awkward sex in the laundry room.

I hadn’t contacted my ex since she dumped me. When I ran into her again I must have put off more confidence, and she ended up messaging me and inviting me over. When I got there I acted like a total dick. I took her virginity. I ended up fucking her for 6 months, then dumped her before going to college for the first time.

I had more sex in college. I had even more sex after college with a high paying job. Somewhere in there my subconscious must have learned a lesson that my conscious mind wasn’t willing to acknowledge. The ‘sphere just spelled it out in black and white.

Love has got nothing to do with it.

Well… Enough reminiscing. Heres hoping you find your own truth. No matter how painful…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s