If you’re unfamiliar with my term Heartbreak World, it’s basically a descriptor for the social matrix we’re all caught in:
-loyalty is praised but not actually practiced to any real extent
-people’s brains are cooked by their private hedonism they engage in on their devices whereas in yesteryear they would have been forced to go on a walk or go to some social event or maybe just do drugs which at least was seen as wrong back then
-the institutions have been wholly captured by the State and thus promote as much agony and misery as possible
We’re all inhabitants of Heartbreak World.
The entirety of this social arrangement traces its roots to the condition of the parenting, which is pretty much shite but improving. The Boomers spanked at about an 88% rate (off the top of my head), Gen X spanks at 45%, and Millennials spank at about 20%.
The younger generations still have a way to go on the verbal side of things. Doesn’t help that everyone is becoming illiterate.
You wouldn’t know parenting is improving because spankers, who are hotheads, are the most full-throated about their bad habits and will gnaw off their own leg to justify hitting children in someone else’s eyes. This is simply a repetition of their own histories where they were crippled by their abusive parents.
It’s ugly. Anyway, to the topic at hand.
I have this phenomenal track record at this point, stretching back well over a decade, of getting men into marriages.
The main ingredient necessary is a willingness on the part of the man to humble himself and learn what needs to be learned, by the logic of his own life, what will get him across the finish line.
Inquire at stevefranssen@protonmail.com.
Most men don’t have the stones.
Philosophy is a mirror. If a man can’t face the damage he’s done in his life, he will inevitably personalize with you, who are holding up the mirror, and either storm off or slink away in bitter dejection. The more proud ones will latch on to some lesser figure who isn’t as good at holding up the mirror and will endlessly console themselves as if you were the perp. It’s childhood all over again for these guys.
People who weren’t encouraged in childhood will interpret encouragement as domination in adulthood.
I really should make more YouTube videos where I explain the finer details of all this. I’ve written some hearty-helping books, such as last year’s Family Formation. I’m like the 21st century’s Carl Jung/Hermann Hesse/Aristotle/Mel Gibson/Bruce Springsteen.
To rescue a woman, if she wants to be rescued, you have to be willing to burn the midnight oil in your self-knowledge work. You have to be willing to weather incredible storms of self-doubt. You have to be willing to reckon with the depths of your own depravity and your seemingly unending capacity for intellectual manipulation. You have to be willing to back to Beginner Mode and live with the incredible impatience this decision provokes.
And if you can do this, it’s honestly just a quick hop, skip, and a jump to things working out for you.
But people typically don’t want to be emotionally available like that. They want to keep extensive contact with their families of origin. They want to bury their heads in work. They went to stay hooked on their addictions. They want to have some PODCAST blaring in their ear so they can assuage all those teeny little voices of intellectual insecurity in themselves.
It doesn’t take that long to get into fighting shape, if you’re willing to be humble.
Humility is how you rescue a woman from Heartbreak World.
The more hubris, the more skewed your life will become:
If you already got a woman for yourself, 99% of the time because you’re decent looking and have a sex drive, you will damn her to having to live with your unresolved demons. You won’t do the “Big Reset” that is required for virtue to flourish in a romantic relationship. And the best you can hope for in the face of your stubbornness is a life of petty vanities — which of course you run the risk of your children making a complete bonfire of, particularly if they sniff out ole’ Franssen’s online work. Aren’t I the meanest man on the Internet? I wrote as much in my 2019 sleep-deprived book of allegories Coom, Consume, Comply. People didn’t know what to make of that but a few souls did listen. And of course, I say “mean” tongue-in-cheek cause it’s the opposite that is true: I’m the sweetiest. I’ve been the sweetiest peetiest person alive on this planet since Freddie Mercury died of AIDS in 1991.
Sometimes it’s like I’m roller-skating, chewing bubble gum, and making the finest philosophy this world has yet seen. Just have to get a wee bit of shut eye.
Did you have fun on this jaunt?
You thought I was going to give you a simple formula like:
A) Bonk woman over the head
B) Drag her back to your cave
C) Quietly watch over her to ensure she does chores
D) Put baby in her
That’s what a lot of guys like to hear these days. Use penile implants! Obsess over your appearance! Pay $995 for the Man Camp! Pay hundreds and hundreds for an hour of the guru’s time!
Is that what you want me to be, you brigands?
You abuse me!
Toodle-loo.
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