| Current News And Events | Most Recent Updates |
| Female Pool Player Lynne Pinches Refuses To Play Transgender Opponent - 14 November, 2023 | Tossed Aside - 20 March, 2024 |
| Female Uber Drivers in Australia Can Refuse Male Passengers - 11 May, 2022 | Book Review: A World Without Men - 23 November, 20232 |
| College Student Complains About "Cisgender Men" Installing Radiator in his Room - 19 October, 2021 | Katie the Curver - 16 May, 2022 |
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An Introduction, Of Sorts
Call me Niceguy.
I like to think of myself as a decent human being. I buy drinks for my friends when we go out. I help others when they're going through tough times. I treat animals kindly. If I could jump off the screen right now, I'd go and make us both a big bowl of popcorn just so we could sit down and enjoy it together. In short, I'm the kind of guy that others refer to as "nice."
Women have often asked me to fix their computers, prepare their taxes, help move their furniture, or assist them with their homework. They'd ask me to pick them up when they'd missed the last bus, they'd ask me to loan them money when they were in a jam, and they'd ask me to bring snacks in the middle of the night. And since I'm nice, I was always happy to help. Unfortunately, none of the women I put myself out for were ever interested in reciprocating. Help was suddenly unavailable whenever I was the one who needed it. "Oh, you're such a good friend!" I'd hear each time I was exploited. This wouldn't bother me so much except for the fact that refusing requests to be exploited was always met with a wall of disapproval.
Guys like me were brought up to believe that if we always tried our best, and were beacons of kindness and generosity in a world filled with thugs and cads, we would inevitably find a girl who would love us and accept us for who we were. Instead, those traits seemed to disqualify me from any sort of romantic arrangement, and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone here. Whenever I'd ask a woman out, she'd inevitably tell me that I was far too much like a brother to her, or that she didn't want to spoil our friendship. Such rejections were always followed with sincere assurances that when I eventually found a girlfriend, she would be so lucky to have a guy like me. Yes, a woman of grace and understanding was just around the corner, merely awaiting my displays of affection to fall right into my arms.
Well that's a myth. A fraud. A big damn lie. Now that I live in exile from my native culture, I can see that dating and romance in the West is a heavily skewed affair. It sees love and romance almost strictly in terms of what the female wants. What the female expects. What the female demands. The male is mere fodder. He needs to step up to the plate and work hard, and he needs to change to suit his woman's needs. She on the other hand, should just be herself, no matter how horrible or deceitful that may be.
So, if you'd like to know more about this site and its history, click here. If you'd like to chat to like minded men and women (yes we have supportive female readers), click here. Most importantly, if you'd like to tell me how much you hate me (and if you do, I suggest you don't read or try to understand anything on this site), then please click here.
NEW! - 20 March, 2024
Tossed Aside
Written By Stan
I met a good friend of mine, Oliver, while I was attending a lecture years ago. Although our busy schedules sometimes made it difficult to hang out, we did have a shared interest in manga. At some point, I somehow became one of his closest confidants. Unfortunately for him, the last several years have not been kind and he’d gone through some pretty significant life crises. One of them was an untimely accusation of plagiarism which came from his biology professor.
One of his seminar classes required Oliver to hand in a research report, which had apparently come under suspicion. The university’s policy on plagiarism was very no-nonsense. One possibility he faced was confessing to the illicit act, which would automatically make him fail the class and perhaps lead to expulsion by the provost. The other option he had was finding a fellow classmate to vouch for him. Oliver was a very low-key and private guy by nature, which meant that hadn’t socialized with many of his own classmates. Unfortunately for him, almost no one wanted to assist in this case because they were "afraid of getting on the professor’s bad side," as one of them reportedly testified.
This put Oliver at an impasse, but he wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. On one particularly hot and balmy afternoon in May, I was sitting with him in the school cafeteria when one of his few friendly classmates, Chloe, approached our table. She talked with us for a while and when Oliver informed Chloe about his predicament, she was just as shocked and indignant as he was. They had spent a lot of time studying together, and had bonded over the shared stresses of coursework, and even gone to a few parties together. She immediately volunteered to help out.
I had actually gotten a pretty good first impression of Chloe; she seemed devoted, open-minded and caring. Oliver laid out exactly what she needed to do on her end: email the dean and provost with a short written statement explaining her opinion that his final research paper could not have been plagiarized. Chloe repeatedly assured him that writing the email wouldn’t be a problem at all. I personally don’t remember the full conversation, but the last minute of their talk foreshadowed the kind of personal hell that Oliver would experience over the summer. Before she left, she said:
"By the way, since I’m about to graduate, I’m going on a vacation for a month or so. I’ll write the email while I’m there."
"No prob. See you later." Oliver replied to her gratefully.
Little did I know that my friend would have one of the most stressful times of his life.
Thin As a Promise
Time flew by after that conversation. After the offer of Chloe’s help had seemingly provided a solution to Oliver's crisis, the whole incident took a back seat in my mind. I focused on sorting out my own agenda, namely my final exams and projects. Once my summer break started, I went back to my hometown, hung out with old friends and used my free time to unwind after the semester’s stress. By that time, I had almost completely forgotten the incident with Oliver. Very late one night in June, however, I got an unexpected phone call. As I answered, I felt pissed at getting disturbed at such an ungodly hour:
"Oliver? It’s 3:30 in the fucking morning". I moaned "Why are you calling me now?"
"I can’t sleep", he confessed "I don’t know what the hell to do. Chloe’s not talking to me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I grumbled sleepily.
"I just tried to remind Chloe through Facebook that she needs to send the email to the dean. She ended up blocking me!"
"What?! Are you serious?"
I listened to Oliver as he told me what had happened. Chloe had never messaged him or informed him that she’d emailed her promised testimonial. In fact, he never heard from her after they spoke in the school cafeteria. Oliver needed to secure Chloe’s help by a certain time, or else he would have to face the worst consequences from the provost. Since she was always on social media posting pictures of her vacation in Hawaii and Europe, Oliver figured that sending a reminder through Facebook Messenger was the right step to take.
He noted that Chloe had read his message but didn’t reply. Oliver felt it was a bit unusual but as he was about to send a follow up message, he found that he’d been blocked. There was now no way to reach her through Messenger. Since he didn't have anybody else to support his testimony, his academic future at the university was now at the mercy of the officials who would decide his fate.
When I asked Oliver what steps he was planning to take next, he replied that he was left with no other option but to make a 5 hour drive from his home to school. That’s when he would attempt to meet with the provost in person to explain the predicament and try to work out a "reasonable" deal with him. Then he also mentioned that the school had so far been, institutionally, beyond incompetent. He had spent almost that whole day calling and emailing just about every department he could, including the dean, the provost, the registrar and the counselor’s office, only to be given the runaround or be sent to a functionary who didn’t know how to address the situation.
I didn’t know who to feel more angry at: the school administration, which had not only put Oliver in this situation but was also so grossly incompetent as to keep throwing hurdles in his path, or Chloe’s own brand of thoughtless neglectfulness. To say that Chloe’s decision to block Oliver was "evil" would ascribe too much intentionality to her; she simply didn’t care about her "friend". She ended up abandoning Oliver at the time he needed her the most. All because she couldn't be bothered to take 10 minutes out of her vacation time to write an important email to the dean.
Oliver decided to make a last stand at the college and drive the required 5 hours to get there, ultimately ending up sleeping in his car when the provost mysteriously failed to show up. Chloe’s ridiculous failure to follow through on her task however, made me curious as to what she’d been doing since departing school. That was until I managed to take a look at her Instagram account. There was post after post of her in Hawaii, Europe, Bali, and a bunch of other exotic vacation spots. Pictures of exquisite foods and snorkeling in Hawaii littered her feed. In fact, she posted something like 30 Instagram stories on her account! It was mind-boggling how Chloe was having the time of her life while Oliver was almost at his breaking point and sleeping in his car. Is it really so taxing for someone to type a short email?
Yes, I'm Serious
Oliver went to hell and back but he lived to tell the tale. He never told me exactly what happened the next day, aside from the fact that he spent the night sleeping in his parked car before waking as early as possible to walk into the provost’s office to await him. Miraculously, he scored a bittersweet victory: although the provost agreed that perhaps the final paper wasn’t plagiarized, Oliver was nonetheless put on probation and barred from enrolling in classes for a year. Still, to him, it felt like a victory. It was a vicarious relief for me.
After Oliver returned home, he called to confide in me that he now felt as if he couldn’t rely on women in times of need. I told him his reaction was understandable. I also warned him it was best not to let anger and bitterness fester too much, and that although Chloe hadn’t kept her word, he shouldn’t dwell on her seeming indifference.
After trying to wrap my head around the ordeal he’d gone through, I eventually decided that Chloe simply did not see Oliver as a friend in the same sense that he and I understood the term. She apparently viewed him as a tool that would help her pass her classes. All the time they spent bonding studying for finals and socializing really didn’t seem to mean anything to her. It was just a means of cajoling Oliver into doing work for her. The moment that Oliver outlived his usefulness, she tossed him aside like a dead battery and acted as if he no longer existed.
To this day, Chloe has never come to Oliver to offer an explanation or apologize for her actions. Chloe’s life just moved on so easily with "#goodvibes." There are millions of "Chloes" living amongst us. They're generally fickle and self-serving, unless something helps to boost their egos on social media and provide validation; digital signals that support the self-assurance that they are good people. When you’re truly down however, "Chloes" don’t offer help. They offer soft words and feel-good inaction.
NEW! - 23 November, 2023
Book Review: A World Without Men
The main point of utopian and dystopian fiction has always been to portray a fictional society to juxtapose against our own. Aaron Clarey's latest book, "A World Without Men: An Analysis of an All-Female Economy" does exactly the opposite, giving the reader a cold reality check.
In the aftermath of the 1960s, much sci-fi writing focused less on technological themes and more on social and the psychological ones. Explicitly feminist sci-fi of the day fits well within that current. If you've never had the dubious pleasure of sampling such novels from that time, here's a few summaries:
"The Female Man," (1975 by Joanna Russ), depicts several alternate universes, one of which is Whileaway, centuries after a plague kills off all of the earth's men. The Whileawayers reproduce asexually and live in a carefree utopia. In 1979, Sally Miller Gearhart, founder of one of the first university gender studies programs, released "The Wanderground." This novel described a utopian world without men, where women possess telepathic abilities and use it to communicate with nature. This book was followed by "Daughters of a Coral Dawn" by Katherine Forrest (1984), wherein women establish the eponymous Coral Dawn utopia where they exist happily without the baneful influence of men.
In "The Shore of Women" by Pamela Sargent (1986), a nuclear war devastates the planet. Thereafter, violent and filthy men live in militarized bands outside of women's peaceful, advanced communities. "The Gate to Women's Country" was published in 1988 by Sheri Tepper. Set in a post-apocalyptic future, this novel posits a society where the sexes live separately: men in militaristic compounds and women (you guessed it) in an ecologically-friendly utopia.
Have you noticed a recurring theme yet?
Speculative utopias make great fuel for the imagination, but the genre clearly signals that it is a poor foundation for a real society. In Charlotte Perkins Gilman's "Herland" (1915), there is no war, inequality, or conflict, and everything is simply fabulous. There are no mechanisms for dispute resolution, because harmony is simply presumed. Less well-known about Gilman was her barbaric opinions about dark-skinned people, so the imagined Herland is presumably not an ethnically diverse place...
It all feels a bit reminiscent of a bratty, 7 year old tyke who thinks they'd be better-off without any grown-ups around. There'd be no big bossy adults telling them to clean their room or eat their broccoli. No homework or bedtime. You can jump up and down on the bed and eat ice cream whenever you want.
To that, Clarey's book delivers a sharp: "Wanna bet, kiddo?"
To run the numbers and do the mental exercises would reveal that much of modern life has become so easy and convenient, a lot of women have been tricked into thinking that men are irrelevant to their well-being. Yes, women love to lecture men about all the thankless support that men get from women, never stopping to ask questions about how one-way the deal really is.
That's probably why fictional feminist utopias frequently share the same blind spot: Who's doing all the heavy, vital, unpleasant shit-work?
Somebody has to do it. When the toilet backs up, who will unclog it? Will it be the Liberated Princesses? How gauche! They're too busy eating Haagen-Dazs under a bodhi tree, telepathically bonding with Gaia's creatures.
As a sophomore in high school, I read the 1967 SCUM Manifesto by Valerie Solanas while writing a paper on Andy Warhol. It was a poorly-written fringe screed composed by a barking nutcase, but I have to give her some credit: Solanas actually acknowledges some logistical problems after the men are (humanely!) liquidated in self-emptying gas chambers and self-cleaning voluntary suicide booths. She blithely evades further questions with the claim that "automation" would pick-up the slack in the groovy all-female world of tomorrow. And who would maintain that automation? She didn't say. Presumably other automation would do it. And that, in turn, would be maintained by still other automation. And so on.
One serious attempt to tackle this question was the 2002-2008 comic series "Y: The last man" by Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra. The utopia is basically calamitous. But let's not talk about half of the planet dying. What if half of the planet simply stops supporting the other half?
To that, Aaron asks: "...did anyone take the time to see if women's original claim was at all in any way true? That women were NOT dependent on men? That women truly and factually did not need them?" Well, like it or not, a lot of the single ladies in their 30s and 40s might find out the hard way.
If you'd like to check out Aaron's book, you can find a copy on Amazon here.