"What is an Alpha male?"

The question was asked on Quora, and continued with "Why is being an alpha male important for success with women and life in general?" 

I've been meaning to write about this for quite a while now. A private discussion with a reader of this blog has prompted me to give part of an answer here. Unfortunately, since he is a primary source of what I know about Alphas, I can't say everything I've learned: the main story that illustrates it would be a violation of his privacy. 

So let us proceed with that caveat: I can't tell the story that explains it the best. 

The term comes, of course, from observations of canines, which are pack animals (not the horse kind but the kind that live in packs) in the wild. There's a "leader of the pack" and every trainer of dogs knows that to train one, you must become that animal's Alpha. Maleness is not required: I once knew a woman who could get a dozen dogs to obey her. And my female cat was an Alpha, but I'll tell that story later. 

We don't normally refer to H. sapiens as a "pack animal" but we are a very, very social species. We organize into groups, and every group has a leader. In spite of protestations from Betas and women with low SMV*, Alphas are real and they do exist in human society. I've known some. 

Donald Trump is an Alpha. I don't care whether you like him or not; that isn't the topic of this post. He was an athlete when he was young, and he overflows with self-confidence (which is the reason why so many Betas and low-SMV women hate him). I think the best story I have to illustrate that was an exchange I heard on the radio during the 2016 campaign: a reporter asked about his plan for fixing healthcare and why he thought his plan would work, while Hillary Clinton's plan would not. His answer made me sit up and notice:

Because I know what my capabilities are, and I think I know what her capabilities are, and she isn't capable of achieving anything that big, and I am. [paraphrased; I'm going from memory]

Yeah, that was the whole answer.   Not one word of an actual plan.  Just pure confidence in his abilities. That's the primary characteristic of an Alpha. 

I came out my back door one day to see my cat banked about 45º in a U-turn around the front of my Jeep. She was going that fast. Then I saw the fox in front of her. Yes, she actually ran that fox off of the property and it didn't slow down until it had cleared the fence. Now, that is confidence: that thing could have turned around at any point and had her for dinner. But she had it scared for its life, and running. 

Another time, she had gone on a Jeep ride with us and saw a mama buffalo charging me while I was outside trying to take a picture of it. She wanted out of that Jeep and was going to protect me! A bison!!  She had confidence. 

Alphas not only have confidence; they project an aura of confidence to everyone around them.  Hillary Clinton once accused Donald Trump of "intimidating" her at one of their debates. I watched that debate: all he did was stand behind her quietly while it was her turn to talk.  He didn't do anything to intimidate her, all of that was in her head.  Just like that fox.

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ON THANKSGIVING, DON'T THANK GOD. Thank Capitalism.

 Here's a rehash of a post I wrote on this day eight years ago:

Rush Limbaugh (may he Rest In Peace) used to tell this story every year on his show.

People who thank "God" for the Mayflower colony's abundance miss the point. God had nothing to do with it. The abundance resulted from Capitalism. Specifically, the power of private property.

Socialism - or shall we say Collectivism - is nothing new. It existed WAY before Karl Marx. The Book of Acts records the early Christians trying it (it failed). The Mayflower pilgrims also tried it.

The Mayflower Compact specified that all land was to be held in common, and all were to partake of the food that was grown. This IS the classic definition of "Socialism." It was a disaster.

That first winter, HALF of the colony died of starvation. The ones that remained were down to a ration of three kernels of corn per day. THAT is the inevitable outcome of Socialism.

William Bradford, the colony's governor, wisely broke the Compact. In their third year, the land was divided up between and among the families. Every man could grow what he wanted on his plot, and wasn't required to share it with anyone. He could keep it, eat it, trade it for someone else's produce, whatever he wanted.

The result was abundance. There was SO much food... they held a celebration.

---

The three fundamental rights of Man are: Life, Liberty and Property. No one wants to think about the third (they even left it out of the Declaration of Independence) but it's just as important, just as vital, as the other two. It is strong Property rights that create wealth. And it is strong Property rights that is at the foundation of Capitalism.

We have bleeding-heart Leftists today who want the Government to spend money "researching" the "causes" of poverty. We don't need to research it; we already know the cause.

The cause of poverty is: Collectivism. Denial of the fundamental human right to private property.  The cure is Capitalism.

The Romantic Myth

To the best of my recollection:

There is one person, somewhere in this world, that is your soulmate.  You were made for each other.  This person is your "missing half" and will complete you.  In his/her arms, all of your desires will be fulfilled; nothing will be missing any more.

Your eyes will meet across a crowded room and you will instantly know that this is "the one" that was meant for you, and for whom you were meant.  You will fall in love, marry and never have an argument.  Because True Love is perfect and can never have a disagreement.

You will live happily ever after, and both die at the same moment in each other's arms. 

I wish I could remember the rest of it.

Those of us in Western culture have grown up steeped in this myth.  It's in our fairy tales we were told when little, it's in most of our music, it's in our movies, it's in the advertising that constantly bombards us, and it's even in church.  Especially in church.  We're told that there's a God up there that wants all of this for us, and will somehow magically make it all come true if only we are obedient enough.  

It's a pack of lies.

I know it's a pack of lies, and still I believe it.  Most of us still believe it on some level.  We are that steeped in it.  Like the X Files, I WANT to believe...

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Yet another victim of the Vulva

When recovering from addiction, we victims of that are told to own our feelings.  "YOU are responsible for your feelings," we are told.  "They are not anyone else's doing.  No one can 'make you feel' this or that."

Good advice for recovering addicts, but it's not universally true.  For instance, if you want to turn a dog into a mean and vicious creature, tease it.

Hold out a piece of steak to it, and when its mouth starts watering, withhold the meat.  Do this over and over, and the dog will start to get mean.  You can even turn a cat into a biting, scratching demon from Hell by doing this, although most cats will just leave your ass and move in with a neighbor.

The dog cannot be held responsible for its feelings.  You have ABUSED it by appealing to its primordial instincts, waiting for the inevitable response that is programmed into its DNA, and then frustrating it.

In today's post, we have a story about a man, who is not from this country, that was fired from his job for the crime of talking to an undercover Project Veritas hidden camera about three little girls (middle school age) in his classroom that were flashing their vulvas to him in class.

Girls and young women pull this shit ALL.  THE.  TIME.  They will flash you and then try to get you into trouble for looking.  I myself have been an intended victim of this several times.  Allow me to tell a few stories.

She was a young hottie whose apartment was very close to mine.  Mine was an upstairs apartment (and therefore difficult to peek into) and hers was downstairs in the next building, which was at a right angle to mine.

She would flash people, and one time I even saw her pussy.

She was nice looking, I was a normal male with a normal libido, and OF COURSE I enjoyed looking at her.

So one day I got called in to the super's office.  Miss Hottie Hot had turned me in for looking at her, down in the yard, from my bedroom window.  Yes, I was changing out of my work clothes.  Yes, I had left the curtains open because it was an upstairs bedroom.  There's no way anyone could have seen anything.  No, I was not masturbating.  But I was accused of doing that, and of "looking at her as if I wanted to have sex with her."

"Well, OF COURSE!" I exploded.  "She's always flashing her boobs and her pussy out there in the courtyard.  I'm sure every man in the complex, and half of the lesbians, looks at her that way."

The apartment super happened to be a young married woman who took a dim view of other women trying to steal men.  After she'd heard from a few other young married women in the complex with the same complaint about this woman, she backed off.

You know what's really disturbing about this?  She was peeking into my bedroom window.  How else would she have even noticed that I was looking at her?

My daughter, then in high school, invited her best friend over for a sleepover.  This girl was astute far beyond her years.  So the next morning, I come downstairs to make breakfast + coffee and there was this girl in a revealing nightie.  She was "well endowed" as the saying goes and her nipples were clearly visible through the not-very-opaque fabric.

"You fucking bitch!" I screamed in my mind.  I knew good & well that she knew good & well exactly what she was doing.  I did not give her the pleasure of even one peek.

And to this day I still get pissed off just thinking about the way that underaged teenager tried to bait me.

I was a computer tech.  Not a very good one back then, but eager to improve my skills.  A small local retail chain had advertised an IT position.  I applied and was called for an interview. 

The interviewer was young, pretty and wearing a short-short skirt. She proceeded to sit in front of me with her legs crossed, for the entire interview.  Once again, I screamed out in my mind "YOU FUCKING BITCH!" as I put on my best poker face and tried to emphasize my emerging skills. 

Thankfully, I didn't get the job.  This last story might not have been harassment; it might have been a flirt.  But it was in Portland, the "center of gravity" of SJWism, and she looked like a feminist:

I was in the refrigeration trade and was called for an under-counter cooler in a restaurant.  The problem required me to lie on the floor with the cooler door open, looking upwards while working on the evaporator up inside the unit.  One of the women, whether cook or waitress I don't know, would stand over me to do her work.

At some point she said, "And this is the day I decided to wear a skirt.  You'd better watch out!"

I was disgusted, and shot right back:  "And this weekend you'll be on some beach in a bikini, showing WAY more than I'll ever see here, telling your friends how some guy almost looked up your skirt."

Yeah.  I've been a target.  And could easily have become a victim.

So this poor man, not from our country, is subjected to the same harassment.  By three pubescent girls, who would sit directly in front of him and spread their legs, sometimes messing with their panties so that part of their vulvas showed.

OF COURSE he got hot & bothered.   That's a perfectly normal response for a normal (i.e., heterosexual) male of his age.  His mistake was in talking about it to a reporter that he didn't know.  A female reporter, no less.  I've only watched a few minutes of this video, but the man is clearly uncomfortable with being assaulted in the classroom with a view of young vaginas:

https://www.projectveritas.com/news/explicit-prestigious-connecticut-private-school-ed

There is no word in any of the Press reports of this incident of any punishment being meted out to the little sluts who destroyed this poor man.

Too bad he's not from this country. I would have hauled those little C-words into the Principal's office for sexual harassment.

Love is a cocktail of brain chemicals.

From an article by Loretta G. Breuning Ph.D., expert on the mammalian brain.

Dopamine...

Oxytocin...

Serotonin...

When you receive the affection of a desirable individual, it triggers lots of serotonin, even if you hate to admit it. And when you are the desired individual, receiving admiration from others, that triggers serotonin too. It feels so good that people tend to seek it again and again.

Why did the brain evolve so many different ways to motivate reproductive behavior? Because keeping your DNA alive is harder than you’d think. Survival rates are low in the state of nature, and mating opportunities are harder to come by than you might expect. ...

There is no free love in nature

Every species has a preliminary qualifying event before mating behavior. Creatures work hard for any mating opportunity that comes their way. In the end, some DNA makes lots of copies of itself, while other DNA disappears without a trace. You may say you don’t care about your DNA, but you’ve inherited a limbic system that does....

Love triggers a cocktail of neurochemicals because it’s so highly relevant to survival. But it cannot guarantee non-stop happiness. It feels like it can while you’re enjoying the cocktail, however, so your brain may learn to expect that.

"The Neurochemistry of Love", Psychology Today, 18 Feb 2018

And now, a few words from the philosophers:

Love is not self-sacrifice, but the most profound assertion of your own needs and values. It is for your own happiness that you need the person you love, and that is the greatest compliment, the greatest tribute you can pay to that person.

Ayn Rand, For The New Intellectual

To love is to value. Only a rationally selfish man, a man of self esteem, is capable of love - because he is the only man capable of holding firm, consistent, uncompromising, unbetrayed value. The man who does not value himself, cannot value anything or anyone.

Ayn Rand, The Virtue of Selfishness

Love is the expression of one’s values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another.

Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

The myth of romantic love tells us, in effect, that for every young man in the world there is a young woman who was “meant for him,” and vice versa. Moreover, the myth implies that there is only one man meant for a woman and only one woman for a man and this has been predetermined “in the stars.” When we meet the person for whom we are intended, recognition comes through the fact that we fall in love. We have met the person for whom all the heavens intended us, and since the match is perfect, we will then be able to satisfy all of each other’s needs forever and ever, and therefore live happily forever after in perfect union and harmony.

[...]

While I generally find that great myths are great precisely because they represent and embody great universal truths (and will explore several such myths later in this book), the myth of romantic love is a dreadful lie. Perhaps it is a necessary lie in that it ensures the survival of the species by its encouragement and seeming validation of the falling-in-love experience that traps us into marriage. But as a psychiatrist I weep in my heart almost daily for the ghastly confusion and suffering that this myth fosters.

Millions of people waste vast amounts of energy desperately and futilely attempting to make the reality of their lives conform to the unreality of the myth. 

M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Travelled

I hope to be saying a lot more about The Romantic Myth later. 

So, we have a few thoughts here on what love is... and what it isn't. 

Love is not what the Priests and Mystics say it is. 

Love is not self-sacrifice.

Love is not valueless feelings.

Love is not free.

To be continued...

Some stories, in no particular order

He was my stepson.

I met his mother when he was a teenager.  Since no teenaged male wants to deal with his mother having sex, he and I didn't get along very well.  He'd had a couple of girlfriends before he shipped off to the Marine Corps.  

At some point, I don't remember exactly where in this timeline, he married the cute one.

During my brief presence on Facebook, I would see her posts.  For some reason, he was away at that time.  I think he was out of the Corps by then, so it must have been a job he was on or something.

Anyway, she was posting about how much she missed him.  Such a sweet young lady.  I remember how my heart ached that someone, somewhere (<cough> like this young man's mother) would feel that way about me.

That was the kind of love that my heart desired.  A woman who actually desires you, and wants to be with you!  I had never, ever experienced that, and it was "a hole in my heart," as the line in a song I can't remember said.

Fast forward a decade or two.  My son has stayed in contact with his half-brother, and reports that the kid they had is a spoiled brat, and this cute, sweet woman my stepson married has turned into an SJW bitch.  I think he even used the term "succubus" once.  She had made his life so miserable that he actually moved out of the house for a while.

So much for "true love."

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It was an innocent encounter in a city park that changed my life.  I never saw her again.

I had taken my child to go play in the playground.  She was there for the same reason.  As the kids played, we started talking.

It was a low point in my life, and I must have said something self-deprecating.  I don't remember that part; all I remember is that she began affirming me.  Making me believe that I was worth something; a Good Man.  Something I wasn't getting at home.  

I went home with a renewed self-confidence I hadn't felt in quite a while, the confidence that I could do anything I set my mind to... and realized I had fallen in love with a woman who was not my wife.

I was deeply religious and the feelings that I couldn't deny were tearing me apart:  this was A SIN!  I wasn't allowed to have those feelings!  And yet, my thirst for validation was stronger than my religion.  I wanted her in my life.

Shortly after that, I fell ill with what was probably a bad flu.  My head hurt, my whole body hurt, and I couldn't even move my head without nausea.  It was the worst flu I'd had at that point in my life.

And one day my wife stood over me as I lay on the couch, telling me that I wasn't really sick, I was just lazy and didn't want to work.

I remember turning away from her as I tried to find a position on the pillow for my head that didn't hurt as much as the others.  "When I get well, I'm getting rid of you," I said in my mind.

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We met through a personal ad, probably on Craig's List but I don't remember.  She was a full-on hippie.

I had left the hippie lifestyle decades earlier, but at least I understood her.  But she didn't understand me, and we only lasted for a few months or so.

She had, if I remember correctly, four or five kids, most of them grown up by then, from four different fathers.  I met all of the exes except the last one, and liked + got along with all of them.  Man number 1 was a doctor.  A hippie doctor.  Cool guy and I enjoyed his company.

One day, I asked her the burning question in my mind:  "Why did you ever leave him?"  

Her answer floored me.  "I thought I could do better..."

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She was the Love of my Life.  She was everything I desired, which mostly had to do with sex.  I shan't go into details, this isn't a porn site.  I loved her more than I have ever loved anyone, or ever will love anyone again.  I had finally found The One, and we would be together as long as we both were alive.

I remember one time we were in the mountains (our favorite place in the whole world) and we saw an elderly couple coming out from a trail with bags of huckleberries they had been picking.  "That's us when we're seventy years old," she said.  I believed it.

Some years after the divorce, I was talking with a man I knew, telling some story or other about that relationship.  He said something that my autistic brain had never even considered.

"I would never marry a woman that didn't love me," he said.

Uh, what?  It had never occurred to me that she didn't love me.  

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My marriage was ending, and I was seeking the answer to the question of how I had become attracted to someone who was so obviously wrong for me.  It would be decades before I finally found that answer, but there was a conversation with a newly-single woman who had had three men, all of whom abused her.

That looked like a pattern to me.  Among all of my guy friends + acquaintances, I had never known a man who would do such a thing.  So it's not as if those are the only men out there:  for some reason she was attracted to the type (I found out that answer later too, from the same book I found the other answer).  I said to her, "doesn't it make you wonder about yourself, how you are somehow attracted to those types of men?"

I knew that after three, I would have been asking it.  Hell, I was starting to ask it after only one!

She looked me straight in the eye, shook her head coyly and said, "No."

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I blame the marijuana.

She had been one of the "ugly girls" in high school, so much so that the boys teased her, and teased other boys about her.  Seeing her in a city park in the Big City years later, she still wasn't very good looking. 

But we were from the same little town, we recognized each other, and she had marijuana to sell.  So we talked.  And talked.  Somehow, she ended up at my house, and somehow, we ended up having sex.  Must have been some pretty good marijuana because I wasn't attracted to her in the least.

She left the next morning and I never saw her again.  But something magical happened at work.  I had a different attitude.

I was the kid in the factory.  All the other men, including the boss of course, had many many years on me.  I was lowest on the totem pole.  The one that all the other totems piss on.  But that day, I felt equal to all of them.  Because I had gotten laid the night before!  I remember being gathered with them in a rough circle - I don't remember why, we must have been picking up a heavy piece of equipment or something - and feeling like I was just as much a Man as any of them.  Hell, my dick could almost touch the floor!

That is what sex does for a man.  Women will never understand this.

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I don't remember why we were friends.  I think he was one of my customers when I was in the refrigeration business.  He was also a businessman.  His office was attached to his house.

His wife was not someone you'd give a second look to.  They were middle-aged, had adult kids, and were both overweight, as was I.  But one day, while I was in his office... oh, my gawd.

She came in and started kissing and loving all over him.  She admired him!  Thought he was a king.  Or at least treated him that way.

As I headed out the door to my next call, I realized that I had just seen the luckiest man in the world.  How many women treat their husbands that way, after that many years?  Yeah.  I already knew the answer.

No wonder he was so successful in his profession.

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Another story about my life as a refrigeration man in a small town.  I got along with my competitors.  But there was one who was flat-out incompetent.

One day, I was at the UPS depot in our town waiting for the truck from the Big City to unload.  I didn't want to wait half a day for the driver to get to my door.  One of my competitors was also there, as was the wife of the incompetent competitor.

He and I started talking shop, and he began relating a job that the other man had screwed up.  And started ranting a little bit about the guy.  I pulled him into another room, and said "Do you know that woman who was standing in front of us?  That's his WIFE."

My friend turned nine shades of deep red.

Trying to patch things up a bit, I apologized to her when we were alone.  Her response astounded me:  she was completely defensive of him.  Completely.  The sun and moon rose and set on his shoulders, and he could do no wrong.

The guy did everything wrong.  But she believed in him.  

I learned something about women that day.  The man may have been a total turd - I, for one, had no respect for him - but his wife LOVED him.  

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We were in marriage counseling.  I loved her deeply, and wanted to save that marriage.  The counselor had asked each of us what was annoying us about the other.

"He doesn't listen to me," she stated matter-of-factly.  Okay, typical complaint from women.  But then, out it came:  "And by 'listen,' I mean doing what I want, when I want it."

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Found on Quora:

Why is it hard for women to understand men?

We have a hard time understanding men because we are too self absorbed to get out of our heads where we hold them to our value system and our worldview instead of theirs. Especially where we get confused and detailed with this idea of “toxic masculinity”. A man in naturally predisposed to be more callous and less agreeable than women due to the nature of being the family protector. Men are also genetically predisposed to require some sort of leadership or at least referee and counsel to their family. Men want to feel like they are worthwhile, that they have a meaningful role in the family's path and future, and they need to feel loved, wanted, respected and needed by their family units. Emasculating, denigrating, and humiliating men is so damaging much like it is to women, however men are more likely to not seek out help and counseling and end up resorting to suicide or addiction before seeking help. I recommend stopping and thinking about any man you seek to understand by setting aside your values thoughts and feelings, and with open mind and judgement free heart, try to imagine how and what you would feel if you were in their position. It just might change your relationship with them, I know it will change your relationship with yourself.

Verbatim quote, including the lack of paragraph breaks.

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More later...

 “Women are fundamentally incapable of loving a man in the way that a man expects to be loved by a woman” 

— Rollo Tomassi's Iron Rule #6

Tomassi is kinder and gentler than I am.  My rule says flatly that women are incapable of love, and that, therefore, no man should expect any woman to love him.

I would like to see that disproved, but while I’m waiting for that, here is what I have observed in the Real World:

Women are mostly concerned with what they are getting. As long as the gifts and the attention are flowing, she’s happy. But always keeping one eye open for a higher branch to swing up to, if you know what I mean. This is what women call “love.”  It is NOT what men call "love."

If misfortune befalls that man — he loses his health, his fortune, his ability to make a living — she will dump him as soon as she finds “something better.” I’ve seen it over and over, including in my own life.

Men don’t do that. As long as his woman loves him (and I’ll get to HIS definition of “love” in a bit), he’s inclined to stay with her, keep her fed, clothed and housed, etc. It takes a lot of effort and resources to win a woman’s heart, and no man wants to see that time & energy wasted. He’ll keep what he’s got.

This does not apply to cads and players, by the way.

Men have dreams, goals, ambitions. We build things. We aspire to build Great Things. Thanks to the colossal lie that we’ve all been told, known generally as The Romantic Myth, a great number of us believe that “behind every successful man is a good woman.” In youth, we seek to find that woman.

In our fantasies, we dream of someone who will build us up, encourage us, inspire us, tell us "Yes, you can" when the whole world is telling us "no, you can't, you're scum, you suck."  We need our home to be a sanctuary -- free from insults, accusations, belittlement, pettiness, putdowns:  all the slings and arrows we take daily out in the world as we make our living.  We need warmth, comfort, healing from the "slings and arrows," salve for our wounds, rest and above all encouragement.

I have a hundred stories to tell about little scenes I have witnessed as examples.  Perhaps I'll add them to this post someday.

When we find that woman (and rare is the man who does), we don’t want to lose her.  As Solomon said, her price is far above rubies.  We value her more than she will ever realize. She means everything to us.

But what is she thinking about? “How much am I getting? Could I get more with someone else?”

Very few women are happy with the man they have. Blessed are the ones who are, and especially blessed are their husbands.

To be revised, edited, and added onto later...