Sand Castles

[This will be the first post in a series spread out over time in which I briefly revisit posts from the “Greatest Hits” section of the sidebar.  I was surprised which posts these turned out to be, but fortunately found each of them to hit on some points I find essential.  Besides, I’ve lost a lot of hits since needing to take a break from blogging, so I figure I’ll do like Spinal Tap’s (Again With) The Flower People and try to milk past glories.]

I began The House upon the Sand with an examination of the plight of Jane Richard.

Jane was a victim of the Boston Marathon bombing, and I ask that if you’re any sort of believer that you say a small prayer for her and her family.  She lost a brother that day, and her mother was also severely injured, so you can imagine what her father must be experiencing.

Of course it’s no surprise to any of us here in the manosphere, but the man responsible for maiming her, killing her brother, wounding her mother, and turning her father’s life completely inside-out is now a heartthrob.

That’s why I write this blog, why I encourage men to learn Game no matter how other Christians characterize it, and why I advocate a return to Biblical marriage and morality.

We’re fully aware of the dark side of masculine sexuality, as we should be.  We’re taught the horrors of rape, learn about the plight of women in prior eras deprived of everything because a capricious husband took off for Texas.  We all know that men have the ability to bang some chick, get dressed, walk out the door, and never pay her another thought (although even sluts have souls).  There’s probably not a man alive who’s never had to fight the urge to simply take it when he thought he could get away with it.

Yet we ignore that the unfettered feminine instinct is equally primal, that without a moral compass women actually want and encourage us to be this way (with their actions, obviously not their words).

Indeed, many women would turn down the chance to get with Aaron Hernandez, but that’s only because they’ve managed to develop some sort of moral agency, not because they really like nice guys instead.  Just like strong men can resist the draw of the hard-on, strong women can resist the tingle.

But rare is the voice telling the modern woman that she even needs such moral guidance, that the tingle ever need be resisted (except maybe when she’s married ten years from now when she meets a man who’s so wonderful she’ll never even be tempted by another guy).  If she boinks the drummer, she was just having fun.  If their liaison is frowned upon at all, it’s only his exploitative abilities that are to blame, not how badly she wanted it.  Either she was mislead by dreams of purest romance, or she was just finding herself.

We blame the pornographers and agents for exploiting girls with dreams of stardom but rarely the pornstars themselves without whom there would be no sex to film.

And in the meantime, we equate instilling morality in men with castrating them and training them to believe that their every instinct need not be properly focused but snuffed out instead.

Indeed, there have always been men and women raised without proper guidance.  Petty thieves and prostitutes, abandoned by their parents before puberty also commit grave sins, but they have an excuse (and manosphere takedowns of genuinely impoverished prostitutes are incredibly rare).  This chick has no excuse.

But it’s the middle class girls we’re training to act like their less fortunate sisters, those of us who are ostensibly the most civilized that we’re training to give in to their animal natures.

There is no exemption.  A primitive man brings out the primitive in woman, and a primitive woman brings out the primitive in man.  When a woman selects a man for sex, she rewards him for his behavior, and what her unfettered instincts long to reward is often the opposite of what should be rewarded.

The leader of the crips gets more women than he can handle.  Tyrone gets squat.

Not all hope is lost, for if a moral man learns to harness his strength, he can be appeal to a woman’s primal side.  Likewise, a woman with moral controls (external if necessary) can find herself fulfilled by a man who doesn’t bomb children for fun.

But each of these require training and constraint, two things we long to avoid at all cost for fear of “limiting ourselves”.

Yet neither training nor constraint are possible without some sort of negative sanctions.  Criticism.  Shaming.  Discomfort.

For “those who begin by being kind to the cruel wind up by being cruel to the kind.”  I’d be all about love circles if I thought they would work.  They don’t, at least not on their own.

You see, I want a world in which a man who destroys the lives of girls like Jane don’t have thousands of fans offering their bodies to him.  They might still want him, but if they tell the world on Twitter about it, they’d best be shamed into shutting up.

As one girls admits her “secret”, another girl figures it’s okay to feel the same way.  When parents and friends just think it’s a phase she’ll outgrow, it grows even more.  (And don’t even think omegas don’t notice this.)

I’ve got to keep my own instincts in line, and I won’t sleep with women who offer themselves to me partly because I don’t want to reward their bad behavior, because I don’t want to send the message that I think certain behaviors are okay.

I think it’s time the women of America do the same.  If they refuse, it’s time we do it for them.

Otherwise, expect more suffering like Jane’s.