The Most Alpha Thing I’ve Ever Seen

While I am a lowly beta/omega, my younger brother is an alpha. Our personalities were quite similar until our early teens, but at that point we diverged wildly – I am shy, anxious, introverted and kind, he is confident, aggressive, hyper-social and narcissistic. I need hardly add that beautiful women swoon all over him – and that he’s cheated on every girlfriend he’s had. The sole exception is the current one, who my mother is pressuring him to marry. In truth, she’s perfect for him – beautiful, intelligent, highly successful, outgoing and cultured. He’s more than a little taken with her – has this caused him to lose his alpha?

Today at a barbecue, my questions were answered. His girlfriend asked someone if she could have a cigarette – even though she’s supposedly given up smoking. My brother turned to her calmly and looked her straight in the eye, and said in a firm, level voice:

“You can have a cigarette if you want, but if you do, I know that later you’ll be disappointed in yourself.”

Translation: “I’ll be disappointed in you.”

She looked down, put away the cigarette, and agreed that he was right. For the record, she’s an extremely successful lawyer, and a seemingly very independent person. No matter – she melts at the threat of his disapproval. “A woman wants to be loved by the man she admires” – yes indeed.

But the other side of the story is this – without his command, she’d have smoked that cigarette. My brother is probably going to marry this girl, and he’s not going to be there every minute of the day. In the long run, she’s going to do what she wants to do. Game is a temporary plaster, but it cannot change a woman’s true nature.

A Traditional Argument

Aretae and AnomalyUK have been discussing authority. More interesting, to me, is the question of legitimacy. They are not the same thing. In 1655, Cromwell had authority, but not legitimacy, while Charles II had legitimacy, but not authority.

Michael Huemer likens the government to a vigilante who suddenly started imprisoning criminals in his basement and forcing his neighbours to pay his costs in doing so. He rightly points out that few of us would feel morally obliged to pay the vigilante, so then what is our obligation to the government?

Yet, I think we would agree that there might be circumstances in which we were obliged to pay the vigilante. For instance, if I had asked the vigilante to begin his reign of terror, and promised to pay my share of the costs, then perhaps I am morally obliged to pay up.* Now, I never did any such thing, but some people did – Bishop Odo, for example, might be thought morally obligated to follow his half-brother’s laws. However, this idea of a social contract doesn’t get us very far.

More practically, we might think about the idea of prescription. The idea is not that the state is “above” us, in Aretae’s terms, but rather that it is alongside us. If I may establish property and other rights by prescription, why may the Crown not? Certainly the Crown has been locking up criminals by common consent since “Time whereof the Memory of Man runneth not to the contrary.” Does it not follow that the right to do so has become Crown property, or prerogative as the courts would call it? Therefore we should make careful enquiry of any purported right of the Crown, to see whether it is of ancient usage, or a novel usurpation. If my neighbour has been putting his bins there for centuries, I can’t interfere with his right to do so. But if he just started last Tuesday, I might look askance. The same goes for Her Majesty.

Therefore we can easily see the distinction between legitimate authority, sanctioned by law, consent and tradition, and Aretae’s idea of authority, which is mere power. The question of which authorities are legitimate, and how far that legitimacy runs, is a matter to be determined by careful enquiry into the circumstances of any particular case. The question of what should happen when a legitimate authority exceeds its proper rights is more controversial, and so I shall leave it aside for now.

*Although in the real world such a contract would be void as a matter of public policy, because it’s ancillary to criminal activity. But let’s leave that issue be for the moment.

The Costs of Order

As the Arab Spring continues, one thing that has struck me is how easy it is to bring a dictatorship to a crisis. An authoritarian policy of crushing dissent is a weakness, not a strength, because it means that if visible dissent does occur, the regime’s legitimacy is threatened. Whereas by allowing dissent, liberal democracy defangs it, and normalises discontent. The anti-cuts protests in London would have brought down most governments in the Arab world; here in England, they are a blip on the radar.

If you want to have an authoritarian state, like the formalists and reactionaries, then you have to be willing to do more than just crush all obstruction to the smooth working of the state – you have to crush all visible expressions of dissent. This is where the costs are huge. That is why authoritarian states tend to be either brittle (succumbing to coup or revolution in times of trouble) or backwards (the huge costs of suppressing all dissent stifling all growth).

However, although authoritarianism is unstable, we do still need authority. I simply don’t understand Aretae’s position. The rich/trader/forager groups love authority, otherwise they’d all be buying villas in the Congo. How can you be rich unless there’s some authority enforcing your property rights? How can you be a trader unless there’s some authority enforcing contracts? How can you be a Hansonian “forager” unless there’s some authority stopping your neighbours beating you up?

People do not want independence. They want “independence.” The content of that “independence” differs from society to society. Contra Aretae, the truly poor and backwards societies are where people are most anti-authoritarian and most pro-independence. That is why they are most associated with warlordism and unsanctioned violence. Tribesmen in Papua New Guinea fight their own blood-feuds and chafe at the idea of submitting their disputes to a higher authority to settle. Westerners let the courts sort it out, and comply with the verdict even if they think the result is desperately unfair.

The kind of authority matters greatly, no doubt. People do not want to be told to do the kind of things they don’t want to do. But that’s axiomatic. The key thing is that most people don’t mind being told to do the kind of things they wanted to do anyway. Look at where Hansonian “foragers” want to live – not Mogadishu, but Manhattan, one of the most heavily regulated places on earth.

The need for authority is not a wish for preferential rules for my tribe (although it is often co-opted in that direction). It is a need to escape from the Hobbesian nightmare of the anti-authoritarian hunter-gatherer tribe.

Blog Status

I am starting a new job on Monday, and so this blog will be quiet for a while as I settle in there. I shall leave you with this, from A.P. Herbert’s classic Uncommon Law, addressing the eternal question: “Is It A Free Country?”

R v. Haddock

The Court of Criminal Appeal considered to-day an important case concerning the rights and liberties of the subject, if any.

Lord Light, L.C.J.: This is in substance an appeal by an appellant appealing in statu quo against a decision of the West London Half-Sessions, confirming a conviction by the magistrates of South Hammersmith sitting in Petty Court some four or five years ago. The ancillary proceedings have included two hearings in sessu and an appeal rampant on the case, as a result of which the record was ordered to be torn up and the evidence reprinted backwards ad legem. With these transactions, however, the Court need not concern itself, except to observe that, as for our learned brother Mumble, whose judgments we have read with diligence and something approaching to nausea, it were better that a millstone should be hanged round his neck and he be cast into the uttermost depths of the sea.

The present issue is one of comparative simplicity. That is to say, the facts of the case are intelligible to the least-instructed layman, and the only persons utterly at sea are those connected with the law. But factum clarum, jus nebulosum, or, “the clearer the facts the more dubious the law.” What the appellant did in fact is simple and manifest, but what offence, if any, he has committed in law is a question of the gravest difficulty.

What he did in fact was to jump off Hammersmith Bridge in the afternoon of August 18th, 1922, during the Hammersmith Regatta. The motive of the act is less clear. A bystander named Snooker, who, like himself, was was watching the regatta from the bridge, has sworn in evidence that he addressed the appellant in the following terms: “Betcher a pound you won’t jump over, mate,” that the appellant, who had had a beer or (as he frankly admitted) two, replied in these words: “Bet you I will, then,” after which pronouncement he removed his coat, handed it to the man Snooker, climbed on to the rail, and jumped into the water below, which, as was sworn by Professor Rugg of the Royal Geographical Society, forms part of the River Thames. The appellant is a strong swimmer, and, on rising to the surface, he swam in a leisurely fashion towards the Middlesex bank. When still a few yards from the shore, however, he was overtaken by a river police boat, the officers in which has observed his entrance into the water and considered it their duty to rescue the swimmer. They therefore took him, unwilling, it appears, into their boat, and landed him. He was then arrested by an officer of the Metropolitan Police engaged in controlling the crowds who had gathered to watch the regatta, was taken to the police station and subsequently charged before the magistrate, when he was ordered to pay a fine of two pounds.

The charges were various, and it is difficult to say upon which of them the conviction was ultimately based. The appellant was accused of:

  1. Causing an obstruction
  2. Being drunk and disorderly
  3. Attempting to commit suicide
  4. Conducting the business of a street bookmaker
  5. (Under the Navigation Acts) endangering the lives of mariners
  6. (Under the Port of London Authority By-laws) interfering with an authorized regatta.

It may be said at once that in any case no blame whatever attaches to the persons responsible for the framing of these charges, who were placed in a most difficult position by the appellant’s unfortunate act. It is a principle of English law that a person who appears in a police court has done something undesirable, and citizens who take it upon themselves to do unusual actions which attract the attention of the police should be careful to bring these actions into one of the recognised categories of crimes and offences, for it is intolerable that the police should be put to the pains of inventing reasons for finding them undesirable.

The appellant’s answer to the charges severally were these. He said that he had not caused an obstruction by doing an act which gathered a crowd together, for a crowd had already gathered to watch the regatta, both on the bridge and on the banks. He said that although he had had one beer, or even two, he was neither drunk nor disorderly. Snooker and others about him swore that he showed no signs of either condition when on the bridge, and it was powerfully argued that the fact of a man jumping from a high place into water was not prima facie evidence of intoxication. Witnesses were called to show that a man at Bournemouth had constantly jumped from the pier in flames without any such suggestion, and indeed with the connivance of the police and in the presence of the Mayor and Council. In the alternative, the appellant said that, assuming that he was intoxicated before his immersion, which he denied, he must obviously have been, and in fact was, sober when arrested, which is admitted; while the river police in cross-examination were unable to say that he was swimming in a disorderly manner, or with any unseemly splashes or loud cries such as might have supported an accusation of riotous behaviour.

In answer to the charge of attempted suicide the appellant said (a) that only the most unconventional suicide would select for his attempt an occasion on which there were numerous police boats and other craft within view, (b) that it is not the natural action of a suicide to remove his coat before the fatal plunge, and (c) that his first act on rising to the surface was in fact to swim methodically to a place of safety.

As to the betting charge, the appellant said that he had never made a bet in his life; no other person but Snooker heard or saw anything of the transaction; and since Snooker, who on his own showing had lost the wager, confessed in cross-examination that he had not in fact passed any money to the appellant, but, on the contrary, had walked off quietly with the appellant’s coat, the credit of this witness was a little shaken, and this charge may be said to have fallen to the ground. The appellant himself said that he did what he did (to use his own curious phrase) “for fun.”

Finally, as to the Navigation and Port of London Authority Acts, the appellant called overwhelming evidence to prove that, at the time of his immersion, no race was actually in progress and no craft or vessel was within fifty yards from the bridge.

But in addition to these particular answers, all of which in my judgment have substance, the appellant made the general answer that this was a free country and a man can do what he likes if he does nobody any harm. And with that observation the appellant’s case takes on at once an entirely new aspect. If I may use an expression which I have used many times before in this Court, it is like the thirteenth stroke of a crazy clock, which not only is itself discredited but casts a shade of doubt over all previous assertions. For it would be idle to deny that a man capable of that remark would be capable of the grossest forms of licence and disorder. It cannot be too clearly understood that this is not a free country, and it will be an evil day for the legal profession when it is. The citizens of London must realize that there is almost nothing they are allowed to do. Prima facie all actions are illegal, if not by Act of Parliament, by Order in Council; and if not by Order in Council, by Departmental or Police Regulations, or By-laws. They may not eat where they like, drink where they like, walk where they like, drive where they like, sing where they like, or sleep where they like. And least of all may they do unusual actions “for fun.” People must not do things for fun. We are not here for fun. There is no reference to fun in any Act of Parliament. If anything is said in this Court to encourage a belief that Englishmen are entitled to jump off bridges for their own amusement the next thing to go will be the Constitution. For these reasons, therefore, I have to come to the conclusion that this appeal must fail. It is not for me to say what offence the appellant has committed, but I am satisfied that he has committed some offence, for which he has been most properly punished.

Mudd, J., said that in his opinion the appellant has polluted a water-course under the Public Health Act, 1875.

Adder, J., concurred. He thought that the appellant had attempted to pull down a bridge, under the Malicious Damage Act, 1861.

The appeal was dismissed.

The Beta’s Fate

Lord Lundy from his earliest years
Was far too freely moved to Tears.
For instance if his Mother said,
“Lundy! It’s time to go to Bed!”
He bellowed like a Little Turk.
Or if his father Lord Dunquerque
Said “Hi!” in a Commanding Tone,
“Hi, Lundy! Leave the Cat alone!”
Lord Lundy, letting go its tail,
Would raise so terrible a wail
As moved His Grandpapa the Duke
To utter the severe rebuke:
“When I, Sir! was a little Boy,
An Animal was not a Toy!”

His father’s Elder Sister, who
Was married to a Parvenoo,
Confided to Her Husband, “Drat!
The Miserable, Peevish Brat!
Why don’t they drown the Little Beast?”
Suggestions which, to say the least,
Are not what we expect to hear
From Daughters of an English Peer.
His Grandmamma, His Mother’s Mother,
Who had some dignity or other,
The Garter, or no matter what,
I can’t remember all the Lot!
Said “Oh! That I were Brisk and Spry
To give him that for which to cry!”
(An empty wish, alas! For she
Was Blind and nearly ninety-three).

The Dear Old Butler thought-but there!
I really neither know nor care
For what the Dear Old Butler thought!
In my opinion, Butlers ought
To know their place, and not to play
The Old Retainer night and day.
I’m getting tired and so are you,
Let’s cut the poem into two!

Second Part

It happened to Lord Lundy then,
As happens to so many men:
Towards the age of twenty-six,
They shoved him into politics;
In which profession he commanded
The Income that his rank demanded
In turn as Secretary for
India, the Colonies, and War.
But very soon his friends began
To doubt is he were quite the man:
Thus if a member rose to say
(As members do from day to day),
“Arising out of that reply . . .!”
Lord Lundy would begin to cry.
A Hint at harmless little jobs
Would shake him with convulsive sobs.
While as for Revelations, these
Would simply bring him to his knees,
And leave him whimpering like a child.
It drove his colleagues raving wild!
They let him sink from Post to Post,
From fifteen hundred at the most
To eight, and barely six–and then
To be Curator of Big Ben!. . .
And finally there came a Threat
To oust him from the Cabinet!

The Duke — his aged grand-sire — bore
The shame till he could bear no more.
He rallied his declining powers,
Summoned the youth to Brackley Towers,
And bitterly addressed him thus–
“Sir! you have disappointed us!
We had intended you to be
The next Prime Minister but three:
The stocks were sold; the Press was squared:
The Middle Class was quite prepared.
But as it is! . . . My language fails!
Go out and govern New South Wales!”

The Aged Patriot groaned and died:
And gracious! how Lord Lundy cried!

“Lord Lundy, Who was too Freely Moved to Tears, and thereby ruined his Political Career,” by Hilaire Belloc

Rhyming History

It’s hard to draw conclusive lessons from history, because the sample size is limited, and the evidence is surprisingly scanty. Estimates of historical GDP are basically guesses. No-one really understands why crucial events took place. Even on simple matters, there’s no clear answer. Was Cleopatra beautiful? Dio says she was stunning. Plutarch says she was nothing special, but extremely charming. Neither met her, and there’s not much else to go on. Naturally, Hollywood’s take is the convenient one.

Despite this, history is the best guide we have. So when AMcGuinn praises absolute monarchy, I tend to look at the historical record. I’ve just finished a biography of Edward I, who was about as absolute a ruler as you could wish for, and half the book was about politics. If Edward didn’t placate the country’s important stakeholders, he wasn’t going to be king for long. Edward I is one of our archetypal “good kings” not because he was immune from politics (every ruler governs through a system, no individual has total power) but because he was strong and wise enough to placate his stakeholders, unlike his grandfather, father and son.

That’s why I side with Aretae: our nominal systems of rule are fictions. There are always stakeholders, even if you pretend that one man is completely in charge, and some matter more than others, even if you pretend we’re all equal. As Aretae points out, the economic realities are unavoidable, and I would merely add that, contra AMcGuinn, a system of stable laws, binding on the rulers as well as the ruled, are to the benefit of both. Look what happens to the rate of interest on English government debt between 1680 and 1700.

Aretae is of course right that what we would all like is a stable, disinterested, all-powerful entity that would set up and enforce a minimal form of government, and otherwise leave us alone. But I don’t see how such a thing is realistic. Here in second-best land, I think constitutional democracy is still the best thing going, but it needs a different set of checks and balances. As an initial measure, I would like to see the vote taken away from all government employees and anyone receiving benefits. Further measures can then be taken as appropriate – evolution, not revolution. To counter any charge of self-interest, I would of course be happy to give up my own vote in perpetuity as part of the reform. The aim is not to make my own vote more powerful, but to change the incentives facing voters.

The Great Divide

Mencius Moldbug is one of my favourite writers, but he’s much stronger when writing about America than the rest of the world. For example, he is fond of saying that all non-American political divides date from post-WW2. Britain is an obvious counter-example. The political divide in Britain dates from 1922-3, with the Conservative expulsion of Lloyd George and subsequent general election. That set up the divide which has persisted ever since, between Labour on the socialistic left and the Conservatives on the bourgeois right. The centre ground has shifted back and forth, but the relative positions of the parties on every major issue have remained just where they were. If you heard a debate on any topic from 1924, you could immediately tell which party the politicians belonged to.

And where does that leave the Lib Dems? 1922-3 set them up as a kind of muddled middle, where they have remained ever since. But who does their presence benefit? I had a university friend, an ardent Labour supporter, who thought that their existence benefited the Conservatives. If only Labour and the Lib Dems would merge, he loved to tell me, they would win every election. If Labour and the Lib Dems merged, I used to reply, they would win the next election, then lose every election for a generation.

My friend’s theory was based on the idea that the Lib Dems are the right wing of the Labour Party, and that if they were to merge then all the Lib Dem voters would simply vote Labour. Yet: if there is so little difference between Labour and the Lib Dems, why don’t the Lib Dem voters just vote Labour? They would get a lot more benefit from their vote if they did so, yet instead they prefer to campaign quixotically for a change in the voting system. If Lib Dem voters would rather “waste” their votes than vote Labour, what does that tell you? Why don’t Lib Dem activists and donors give their time and money to the Labour Party? If they would rather run separate overdrafts than a joint surplus, what does that tell you?

In other words, the reason Labour and the Lib Dems don’t pair up is that they really aren’t a good match. Note that it was a Labour fantasy that they would merge in the early 00s (much as there are some Conservatives now fantasising about an eventual merger). You never hear any Lib Dems saying things like that. My friend was quite right that Lib Dems and Labour share a dislike of the Conservatives, but he was wrong to see the entire party in that prism. There are as many Lib Dems who dislike Labour even more – hence, in part, the current Coalition. This gives the Lib Dems a serious problem – they stand Janus-headed, betwixt and between – but it also gives a serious problem to anyone trying to snaffle their vote. In other words, if Labour merged with the Lib Dems, Labour voters wouldn’t merge with Lib Dem voters.

In fact, in the medium/long term, it wouldn’t matter which merged with the Lib Dems – going to a pure two-party system, the voting distributions would end up the same either way. I think the Conservatives would be the main beneficiaries of this change, because of the dynamic effects. By forcing people to choose between not-Labour and not-Conservative, it would create much greater accountability on the effects of Labour policies, not just their intentions, and it would destroy the BBC’s attempts to marginalise the Conservative Party.

I could of course be wrong. If the current Coalition does indeed cause the Lib Dems to disintegrate, we may find out. Once the AV referendum is over, they will have some tough choices to make.

The Economics of Charity

Last night I went to a fundraiser for the situation in Japan, and as part of it they had a charity auction. Any money raised for disaster relief made me happy, but I couldn’t help notice that the economics of it seemed all wrong. For example, one of the items auctioned was 4 adult tickets to Chessington World of Adventures. Now, a quick glance at the website tells me that they sell for £110, yet at the charity auction they were sold for £30. And this phenomenon was repeated across the night. Would it not be better to sell these items commercially, and then donate the proceeds to charity? It would raise more money… but it would be less visible, and it wouldn’t gather a bunch of people together to congratulate each other on how generous they are. The entire evening seemed entirely about showing how great the attendees are, and very little about the actual victims.

File under “Charity isn’t about helping.”

Of course I’m worth it. But is she?

Workshy Joe responds to my last post.

A lot of what he said can be summed up as “you’re not special.” Yep, agreed. Or rather, I am special, but I fall within a bell curve. Everyone is a creature of routine to a greater or lesser extent. Not everyone is diagnosed with OCD. Everyone feels bad at times. Not everyone has major depression that destroys years of their life. When I say I’m weird, I don’t mean that I’m a genius, or that I think substantially differently from everyone else, or that the normal rules don’t apply to me. I think I’m a reasonably ordinary guy with some strengths and some problems. But those problems and differences are real, and not just my own inventions to make myself seem like a precious snowflake, and the fact of the matter is that I strike most other people as weird.

The most interesting part of the post is when he compares Game to a foreign culture. Now, the key to game is procedural knowledge (“know-how”) rather than propositional knowledge (“know-what”), because it’s no good understanding Game theoretically if you can’t put it into practice. So, is it painful to take part in this foreign culture? I find it so strange that he thinks the answer is obviously no. To me, the answer depends on the foreign culture. If you don’t like spicy food, then you’re probably not going to enjoy Indian culture (or at least their cooking). Now, if you get a really good job in India, then that’s going to be worth the occasional curry. But any way you look at it, there’s a trade-off here.

Game is very much a foreign culture to me, and from my perspective it involves eating a lot of vindaloo for very little pay. I’ve been trying it for several months now and it really has been a painful experience. Now, I am not happy stuck in my rut, but it does not follow that I will be any happier outside it. Maybe there are other ways I can improve myself, and perhaps some of them involve more gain and less pain. Or maybe this is just depressive thinking, and making excuses, I don’t know. What I do know is that feeling sorry for myself is not much of a strategy.

**Joe is right that exercise, regular sleep and CBT can all help. However, if they’re suffering from depression, telling someone to take exercise is rather pointless. Anti-depressants can be a kick start, as can anti-anxiety medication and diet changes. However, you should bear in mind that what you tell your doctor is not necessarily as confidential as you would like it to be – particularly if you are contemplating suicide. The downside of seeking help honestly is that you may end up involuntarily committed to a psychiatric ward. Sad, but true.

Is the Game worth the Candle?

Some men are naturally alphas but are being held back by what they believe are societal boundaries, so they hide their light under a bushel. They “act beta,” not because they really want to act that way, but because they think it is how they are supposed to act, or that it is a winning strategy. For this portion of the population, Game can be a life-changer, because not only is it a better strategy, they will become happier and more at one with themselves. It may be painful at first to overcome social conditioning and discard cherished notions, but it will be well worth it in the end.

Now, I have certainly learned some things from Game. Don’t supplicate, and be outcome-independent are two big ones. However, there are other factors at work. Firstly, I am weird. Not in a bad way necessarily, but I definitely stand out. Game talks about how being indifferent to social convention is a good thing, but let me tell you right now that they are very selective about which conventions they break and how! One of the reasons that I have a tendency to act beta is that I am not well-attuned to social situations, and it causes me to err on the side of caution. Needless to say, women hate weird. Standing out from the crowd is good, but only in a popular way. Everything else is death.

Secondly, I am a creature of habit. I have a degree of anhedonia, which I think this is part of the reason why I am susceptible to depression, and this alters my experiences relative to most people. When you aren’t experiencing pleasure in things, then the fact that something is familiar becomes the decisive factor – almost the only factor. Familiarity offers safety, but more importantly it offers comfort. Novelty cannot compete. Indeed, it becomes a game to create familiarity for just this purpose. I once ate the same sandwich for lunch every weekday for a year, not because I liked it any more than any other sandwich, but because having this pattern was comforting. And I’m no longer in that pattern, so I’ve never eaten that type of sandwich since. As well as being weird, this behaviour is disqualifying in its own right. Women like variety, change, excitement and novelty. I crave routine.

Finally, I am anti-social. I dislike most people, and I hate social interactions. I have never wanted to be popular, but rather my fantasies have always been about withdrawing from society. Trying to interact with people is exhausting to me, and it has only got worse as I have got older. And this is perhaps the most crippling of all. It’s not merely that most women like pro-sociality. It’s not merely that being anti-social lowers your status. The biggest drawback is that I meet fewer women, so even if NAWALT I’m unlikely to meet the exceptions.

At this point you may be thinking I have Asperger’s Syndrome or something, which would be understandable but false. I knew a girl at university who had Asperger’s, and that’s not me. I can pass as normal, but it takes a great effort. She was like a caricature of me, and completely clueless about it too. But I shouldn’t mock, because she was also much more intelligent than me.

Now, people change over time, and I have changed in the past and no doubt will again. In particular I suffer from severe anxiety and I would definitely like to change that. But much of this stuff is not really changeable – I can act in a more pro-social way, but I can’t make myself enjoy it. Following the precepts of Game therefore requires going fundamentally against my nature – and it seems that the prize at the end is rather lacking. I don’t even want sex with lots of different women. What I mostly want is emotional support and comfort, which the practitioners of Game tell me I should give up on.

Now, I don’t think I’m a beautiful unique snowflake who deserves to be loved for who I am. Deserve has nothing to do with it. If I don’t try and make myself more attractive to women, I will probably never have the kind of relationship I want. But is it worth it to go down that route? I cannot help feeling that it is a huge amount of pain for questionable reward. I know I’m an odd, crotchety fellow (I think Alpha Game would call me a gamma) but I don’t think I’m the only one who thinks this way.