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You can tell a lot about what people really value by… eureka!… listening to their conversations.
Women sometimes talk about sex — and they can be surprisingly raunchy recalling or imagining the details of intimate congress — but sex talk is hardly a major focus of their socializing amongst girl friends. Usually, one girl (the token slut) will crack a joke about the shape of the penis she inhaled and the others will collaterally cackle as part of an alliance preserving exercise. The smutcluck is dropped quickly for extended emphasis on subjects nearer and dearer to the female heart: Relationships and love.
(Slutwalk women who stick with the raunch talk for an awkwardly uncomfortable length of conversational air space tend to elicit disapproving glares and then social abandonment from their girl friends. Chicks have a limited capacity for enduring sex talk, even in their female friends.)
When women veer into R&L, as is the frequent wont of their meandering sex, their conversation assumes a VERY SERIOUS TONE.
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “We’re back together.”
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Oh really! I didn’t know…”
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #!: “You didn’t know?”
[twenty more minutes of delicate social maneuvering before getting to the meat of the topic]
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “It’s just that he did this really nice thing and I really love that.”
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “mmhmm, yeah that’s sweet.”
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “And anyhow I think he tried to say he loves me.”
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “He dropped the L word! Wow, that’s big.”
INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Yeah, I know!”
[two more hours of hot debate about the precise wording of the boyfriend’s confession and whether it counts as a sincere exclamation of love. tack on another hour of girls #1, 3, and 4 alternately affirming girl #2’s decision to stay with her boyfriend and playing a gentle devil’s advocate for dumping the guy.]
Men, in the starkest of contrasts, rarely, if ever, have conversations about R&L. Instead, what do cool dudes talk about when the subject isn’t sports, work or hobbies?
ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “So what happened last night? I saw you hitting on that hot blonde.”
ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Dude, I got her back to my place!”
VERILY, ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #3: “No shit! Did you tap it?”
ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Oh man, she was crazy. She was down on my knob, doing this thing…”
[twenty minutes of high fives and rapt attention as excruciatingly crude, detailed account is told of sex positions and composition of female squirt juice.]
NOT SO COOL DUDE #4: “Man, great stuff. Does this mean you’re gonna date her for a while?”
[sound of air being let out of balloon. full-body group cringing and disappointed looks exchanged.]
ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “How ’bout those Dodgers?”
The examples I presented here are highly illustrative of real life among normal psychologically healthy human beings, but neither presupposes that men never concern themselves with relationships and love, nor that women are never interested in talking about sex. The key difference between the sexes is this:
Women are primarily interested in R&L, and secondarily interested in sex. Men are primarily interested in sex, and secondarily interested in R&L.
To punctuate the point, try to imagine a conversation between men that focused on R&L without any familiar, tension-alleviating digressions into sex talk.
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “We’re back together. It’s been one month.”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Aww! Tell me all about it!”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “Wellllll… she’s been really good to me lately.”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “That’s really great.”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “AAAAaaaand… I think she might’ve said she loves me.”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Wow, that’s huge! How did that come up?”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “I’m not ENTIRELY sure she said the EXACT words ‘i love you’ but it sounded like she was trying to say them.”
BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “I knew there was something between you two!”
Preposterous on the face of it. No straight man has a conversation like this with his buddies, unless he’s auditioning for a part in a Broadway play called “My Colon For Old Fags” or “My Own Private Hide-A-Pole”.
Yes, yes, so many of you are shocked by this news. “Tell us something we don’t know, CH.” But we have entered a cultural dystopia when this common sense is rapidly being distorted and replaced by feminist and manlet poopytalk. Tragically, some of the SJW poopytalk is reaching the ears of impressionable naifs, and setting some of them on a course for self-destruction, especially those whose emotional stability is marginal.
There are CH readers with children. One of these naifs swallowing feminist slut cunt lies by the bucketful could one day be your daughter.
When bitterbitches ape the mannerisms and sociosexual predilections of men, their butthurt try-hardness is a transparent ruse all but the lappiest lapdogs can see through. A girl screeching about “opening her legs for every man BUT YOU” is assuming a twisted, false pride in a domain normally and healthfully reserved for men which she knows, deep inside where the armor of her lies yields to the rumbling growl of her id, is a phony front serving no purpose other than blind rage at the retreating world of a good man’s sincere love leaving her behind.
Case in point: The “dick is abundant and low value” girl I had to disembowel as a lesson for the others. With much pain and sorrow in my heart, I took the shiv to her exposed ego and performed a necessary duty. A duty that perhaps would, one day, somewhere, and in a fashion that social science studies would struggle to capture in their arid data sets, rescue an innocent young woman or young man from living by the lies of a loser in love.
For those still wondering what this is all about, a revelation. Above all, Le Chateau abides the Keats’ ode: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” Our glorious, gleaming civilization is getting uglier and further from the truth by the day. A mind full of lies contorts the body into misshapen ugliness. An ugly visage will infect the mind with ego-assuaging lies. Lies must be exposed at birth, or they will grow monstrous and consume everything beautiful in their path. In the wake of lies, ugliness follows like a toxic spindrift.
Therefore, the CH Excalibur… the Holy Heartistian Shiv… drives through the bullshit until the gore stains the hilt, so that beauty and truth may once again assert their rightful place as earthly host to humanity, and the loveless lampreys, despite their worst fears, find to their surprise a new hope for a better life…… or slink away to the icy outback where their limbic disease is quarantined to their own souls.
SCIENCE presents her rump and accepts a meaty intrusion from yours truly before looking over her shoulder with love in her eyes.
Findings reveal that while communication patterns tend to be supportive and relationship-focused in women’s bathrooms, the graffiti in men’s bathroom walls are replete with sexual content and insults, in the course of the construction of hegemonic masculinity.
H/t commenter Strahlemann. The sex-based difference in predilection for R&L or sex talk is evident even in anonymous bathroom stalls. Chicks scrawl odes to LTRs. Men scratch sonnets to sexual slang.
If you play on Team CH, you bat 1.000. How can you not like those odds?