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In that great, dispiriting void between unattainable wish and attainable reality squats the single mom in daydreamy repose. Menstruating a rambling, poorly spelled, grammatically sloppy HuffPo missive on the appeal of the dominant alpha male, a single mom falls into old person sex on the first date with a beefy, motorcycle riding man who, apparently, doesn’t fit any of her criteria for the ideal boyfriend.

We’ve all heard this story before: Alpha male provides night (or two) of intimate pleasure to aging single mom, then disappears, slowly or abruptly, from her life. She is confused and saddened, so she back-rationalizes the experience as one of her making, a supposed choice to regard the alpha male as a “short term fling” with whom she never wanted anything more than a sweaty pump and dump.

Similarly, said single mom who deeply and profoundly yearns for a man in her life to lighten her snot-faced load, may preemptively rationalize her alpha male lover as a “fun time”, so that his inevitable departing for better fun with unattached women can be safely dismissed by her primed ego as a consequence that she desired.

In the Battle Hamster Cage Fight, it’s hard to pick a winner between the fat chick’s and the single mom’s rodent. Both are energized by steroidal self-preservation. Both will stop at nothing to deny their limited sexual market options or the suffocating reality of their bleak romantic prospects. Both are driven to insane mutterings when confronted by dark truths.

It’s all bullshit. Finely embroidered, exquisitely tailored bullshit, but bullshit nonetheless. The ideal dating scenario for women is an alpha male lover, in bed and beyond. Even science has shown this female craving for the alpha male who is both lover and boyfriend is the underlying need and want of women.

Their words in Cathedral rags targeted at an adoring choir may sound chirpy and upbeat, but no amount of exuberant turd polishing will change the trajectory of their afflicted lives: The single mom, like the fat chick, may occasionally get her one night of passion with an exciting man, but she’ll be forced by circumstance to settle for the boring beta male willing to stick around for lack of better options. And that’s if she’s lucky. Some won’t even find their beta male plan B. Their fate is a lonely catscape echoing the mournful mews of alpha male animal simulacra.

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