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I am just totally creeped out, which is completely my fault for bothering to read your letter to your Uncle Screwtape.

His response to your getting dumped by your girlfriend was a strange word salad of discredited evo/psych theories and red pill manospherian gibberish, all freeze dried and prepackaged as, “life in girl world.” I see he has plied you with nihilistic bovine excrement, discredited theories about alpha wolves and beta men, and engaged in an endless lament about the alleged horror of female hypergamy.

Dawson darling, take this truth from someone who has been around the block a few times and has more self awareness in her little pinky finger than your Uncle Screwtape does in all his vain imaginings. Women always marry down.

It’s the truth! We try not to let the cat out of the bag on account of not wanting to collapse the male psyche, meaning, male pride and ego, but you need to know this for a couple of reasons. First of all, your girlfriend didn’t dump you because you weren’t “good enough.” That’s nonsense. You also need to know this because it really is the secret to a happy marriage.

Hypergamy is actually a male trait. When men realize the women they married are vastly superior to them in status and class, they feel as if they have won some kind of prize. Hence the whole notion of “trophy wives.” This tends to make them more committed, more grateful, more invested. Conversely, once women realize they have married down, they lower their expectations and tend to not nag. All in good humor here, but you can’t polish a turd girl, so stop trying.

I see Uncle Screwtape has now completely flip flopped from his nihilistic evo/psych advice and decided to go with a Christian worldview instead. That’s a good thing, since a Christian world view is completely incompatible with nihilism and outdated evolutionary theories. I must admit however, all this flip flopping around is making my neck hurt. I feel like I am watching a Russian game of ping pong. So the new and improved version of Uncle Screwtape 2.0 is called, “Evolution and Sexual Selfishness.”

But of course it is.

Also, forgive me a moment of laughter but after just feeding you a bunch of red pill rubbish the other day, he promptly declares, “It is really important that you banish every form of evolutionary thought from your calculations.” That would be all the crap you just learned from him about hypergamy and malformed pick up artistry.

So scratch all that, that’s just yesterday’s news. Let’s just get back to the Christian basics, the fundamentals. They are really simple. Sex-sin-bad. See? Clear as mud.

I regret to inform you that Uncle Screwtape’s second letter does contain more singing and singing off key to boot. It is so bad one might even just call it hyperventilating, rather than singing. Just breathe into this paper bag slowly and repeat after me, “sex-sin-bad.”

See, there are these birds and bees and they sing in harmony but sometimes the woman just screeches all out of tune and stuff and ruins all the music……Get it? Right.

And oh dear, now there is also a locker room involved or perhaps an entire sports stadium? Regardless, after reading this I immediately advised my husband to get some blackout curtains and put a paper dot over all the devices in the house. “Men and women are so different, and the world is so broken and fallen, that there is no way for us to get along unless these sexual games have authoritative umpires all over the field, not to mention authoritative coaches all along the men’s bench, and all along the women’s bench.” 

Wowsers! I suppose it is none of my business what kind of sexual games married people want to play, I just assure you I will not be partaking in anything involving “authoritative umpires,” or “authoratative coaches” watching from the sidelines.

I will however, now be checking under the bed and if I do find an authoritative umpire, I will blog about his demise in very graphic and gory detail, with pictures and everything. I will just hang his carcass up in my living room decked out with Christmas lights and shiny baubles, I’m telling ya.

Dawson darling, rejection is just painful. I’m sorry, it just is what it is, and the only way “out” of it is through it, right down the middle. You’re simply going to have to deal with the pain, confront your fears, and let the Lord heal you. Perhaps He is looking out for you, perhaps He has something better in mind for you? Regardless, as much as nobody ever wants to hear it, God is a God of abundance. There are a whole lot of monkeys on the monkey tree, millions and millions of wonderful people. Don’t buy into the scarcity mindset, don’t swallow any lies about “soul mates. ”

I am not nearly as concerned about your potential love life as I am about the fact that you would write to your Uncle Screwtape in the first place! That shows a decided lack of discernment and more than a little uh, weirdness. Uncle Screwtape is the same man who wrote a novel about a sex robot being stuffed into a trash compactor. He also failed to comprehend any of the criticism, like why hundreds of women might actually envy that robot for her early demise. It is not the fact that men might wind up falling in love with an AI sexbot that horrifies us, it is that a good chunk of men already perceive women as non entities, as a projection of their own narcissistic fantasies. In other words, we aren’t actual sentient beings with souls of our own, we’re far too often perceived as flat, two dimensional accessories.

Women wish to be seen and known on account of being fully human, with souls and everything. Alas, far too many men can see nothing but their own reflection in a mirror. That is just as true in the Christian world as the secular one. Perhaps it is even worse in the Christian world due to so many rigid gender stereotypes about sex roles and the role sexual repression plays in porn addiction?

Quite simply Dawson, you are consulting with a man who understands women so well, he has made hundreds of us feel as if the sweet mercy of death in a trash compactor would be far preferable to anything he is selling.