Free To Be . . . A Man.

I can pinpoint, almost to the day, when I started chugging Blue Pills in my youth.  It was the day I saw Free To Be You And Me in elementary school, back in the 1970s.  It was the pro-feminist brainchild of Marlo Thomas, a project of the Ms. Foundation for Women, and it was designed to make everyone feel it was okay to be different things: girls could be construction workers, boys could be nurses and carry dolls, black kids and white kids could play together, etc.  The basic concept was to encourage post-60s gender neutrality, promoting values such as individuality, tolerance, and comfort with one's identity (as long as you were a girl or a gay guy). A major thematic message was that anyone—whether a boy or a girl—can achieve anything.  But mostly girls.  It was notable for catchy pop tunes and lyrics, and for having the (young and black) Michael Jackson, Mel Brooks, Alan Alda, Diana Ross, and Rosey Grier, among other stars.  Rosey told us "it's all right to cry".  I was cool with that.

I was also cool with the emphasis on boys looking forward to being fathers, and encouraging them to think of child care and interaction with their future kids as positive male things (okay, "positive things", they essentially downplayed the whole "male" idea).  But the subtext was clear: dudes will enjoy being good fathers to their kids, and it's something that you should look forward to.  And I did.  It made me use fatherhood as one of my prime motivating factors in searching for a bride, and I had and continue to have a very close relationship with all of my kids, just as my Dad did with his sons.  That's not where I take issue with the program.

I take issue with the program because it was loaded with anti-masculine imagery and took the approach that, basically, all things patriarchal were evil and oppressive, and all things feminist were inherently good.  It told me, in other words, that I was Free To Be pretty much anything in the world I wanted . . . except a masculine Man.

I can see trying to move past Agricultural Age stereotypes that no longer fit the socio-economics of the post-War period, much less the coming Post-Industrial period.  I mean, after Rosie the Riveter it was damn hard to make a case that women were incapable of working most of the same jobs as men, and the post-war need for expansion and industrialization almost required a doubling of the existing pre-war workforce, just to keep the paper moving.

But Free To Be You And Me fucked me up.  Bad.  It taught me that it WAS NOT OKAY to be a "boy", that MEN were universally overbearing and insensitive jerks whose only role was to dictate and oppress, and that my ONLY HOPE for moral and social acceptance in this brave new plastic world was to hand my testicles over to Marlo and forget I ever had them.

Because that's what FTBYAM represented to me: a clear choice between whether to become a feared and hated MAN, or a gentle and caring boy who eschewed violence and oppression in favor of fat-free yogurt and kittens.  FTBYAM probably contributed the most to my fucked-up ideas about women and men.  Because while Marlo And Friends were singing about how you could be anything you wanted when you grew up, I was looking around me at the time (mid-70s) and seeing that what most boys and girls apparently wanted to be when they grew up was DIVORCED.

FTBYAM made me ashamed of my gender, ashamed of my culture, ashamed of my history.  It made me ashamed of my father for not deferring to my mother in all things.  It gave all the credence the young feminist teachers in charge of me needed to castigate me for the slightest boyish infraction.  It gave all my young feminist peers all the ammunition they needed to not just reject me, but call me "creep" and other male-bashing tripe, and the sad fact was that if I reported them, it was I who got sent to the Principal's office.

Any attempt at asserting any kind of "traditional" masculinity was stomped on (by the younger teachers -- the older ones still remembered Segregation, they had other issues).  The younger teachers, the ones with feminist fervor in their eyes, seemed to delight in correcting a boy if he said he wanted to be a fireman or a policeman or a soldier or a race car driver, telling him instead that it was perfectly okay to be a nurse or a daycare provider instead.  Funny, she didn't mention the wonderful starting salaries of those perfectly okay positions, or how to raise a family on them.  The subtext was clear: such passively Beta, overly-feminized career choices were the only ones they were going to promote.  To boys.

The fact is, FTBYAM may have promoted "freedom", but in the process to make children who were "unencumbered by stereotypes", FTBYAM ended up merely creating new ones: the timid Beta (and soon to be divorced) dad, the overbearing Alpha (soon-to-be-step) dad, the successful marital "partnership" that was about as useful a guide to actual marriage as a bicycle manual is to a carp, the "empowered" young woman who could do anything, the "understanding" young man who was expected and obligated to let her do anything, and absolutely no room within the feminist pantheon for a dude who wanted to be free to be a dude.  You took the Blue Pill or you got kicked out as a troublemaker.  Period.

I bring this up today because I read over at HuffPo a lovely little post from Marlo about bullying.

You see, bullying is what happens when one kid is mean to another kid, and it really is a bad thing.  My son has been bullied.  My daughter has been bullied.  Both have witnessed severe bullying.  And it's clear that, for some individuals, the emotional strain of bullying is too much.  Pointless suicides or runaways have resulted from bullies and inattentive parents.  I have to agree with Marlo, this is a majorly important topic to discuss with our kids.

But the irony is killing me.

Thanks to FTBYAM and its clones, adherents, and attitudes, I and thousands of boys like me were institutionally bullied by feminists throughout our childhoods.  Our schools and our teachers were working with the intention of removing the dangerous "masculine" characteristics that might interfere in the feminist paradigm -- say, like getting married and wanting your wife to stay at home with the kids, or pursuing a "typical" and "traditional" male career path that might block some enterprising young woman from having that job.  FTBYAM epitomized feminism's subtextual message to men: YOU ARE USELESS AND EVIL AND IN OUR WAY.  

Not "equality", not "level playing field", regardless of their intentions the result was a generation of self-loathing boys who resented girls and women for their perceived privileges  even as we felt powerless and at the mercy of the whims of the adult women in our lives.  Moms who didn't give a damn what you thought about your new step-dad after a hypergamous divorce.  Teachers who -- no lie -- told my six-year-old brother Lester in kindergarten that "it doesn't matter if your mommy and daddy love each other, they're just going to end up divorced".  (That fucked Lester up for decades.) Neighborhood ladies, mostly divorced themselves, who kept trying to give my mother good reasons to leave my dad even though they admired his fathering skills (he was the only intact father in the neighborhood) and discouraged her from getting us boys involved with Scouting because it was "sexist".

And then there was school.  Female, feminist teachers who "lost" my applications for special programs, or failed to recommend me or other male students for honors in favor of girls.  If it hadn't been for my History teacher, bless her heart, I never would have won my first essay contest.  My English teacher was a feminist who told me, to my face, that despite the fact that my essay was chosen blindly (no names or other identifying characteristics) that the school didn't feel comfortable submitting so many boys and not enough girls.  So out of the five boys and two girls who were selected locally, one boy and two girls were recommended by her.  But my History teacher didn't like her, she did like me, and she recognized talent.  She submitted me on her own and I won.

And then there was the feminist guidance counselor in high school who desperately tried to use my boyish teenaged angst as leverage to get me to go to a small private liberal arts college instead of the local, internationally-known public research university nearby I favored because (as I found out later) her gender-based numbers were off: she had too many boys were going to big State and technical universities, while too many girls were going into the small liberal arts colleges and "traditionally female" schools.  She went so far as to call my folks and try to persuade them that I'd be "better off" someplace less challenging.  Of course, if that meant that another woman could take up my spot at the university, that was just gravy, but . . .

The upshot is that between my third grade year, when we had a school-wide assembly featuring FTBYAM, and my first year of college, I and my brothers were subjected to what can only be described as pervasive, gender-based institutional bullying.  And we did tell our parents.  And they did complain.  And no one cared one bit, because we were merely male.

FTBYAM was followed up with Free To Be A Family, which took the anti-masculine bias of FTBYAM and mixed it with some massive rationalizations about how much fun it was to be a kid from a divorced household.  In Marlo's own words, "I also wanted to dispel the idea that there is such a thing as a "broken" family. A family is a place that you come home to where people love you and support you and miss you and can’t wait to find out what you did today."

Well, that's great . . . except it was directly counter to the experiences we were having in the 1980s, when she was promoting the Murphy Brown, UMC Professional divorcee ideal of family and we were seeing kids our age becoming alcoholics because of the stress divorce, hypegamy, infidelity, and all the other wonderful hallmarks of feminism brought us.  Oh, what bounty!  My friend Marty shot himself at 17 because his mother had refused to let him even lay eyes on his father in three years.  My friend Chris had four step-dads in five years and eventually got into heroin.  My friends Mark and Tony were exiled to the shed in the back yard so their new stepsisters could each have their own room (in defense, it was a very nice shed).  Their sisters went to college, their mom and step-dad paying for it all.  Tony went to one semester of community college his grandmother paid for, and then joined the Army, and Mark ended up working retail for decades because their step-dad didn't want to pay for some other man's kids' college . . . and didn't think his wife should either (she felt it was more important to give the girls a head-start, since life was "against them" just because they were women).

Families in the 1980s were a post-apocalyptic disaster, and worrying about whether or not a kid felt "accepted" by his peers for his family life was laughable.  We were all just trying to survive the feminist-inspired wave of "I'm not HAAAApppy!" divorces, or the mid-life crises-inspired cheating that wrecked our families.  Kids in general, to the Baby Boomers who fueled the idealistic and unrealistic FTBYAM and FTBAF, were accessories and status symbols, mere points of contention in a divorce settlement and a useless and ungrateful waste of child-support money -- believe me, we knew that.  We got told that by our culture every day.

Especially if you were a boy, the consensus opinion of the women in your life (and in popular culture) was that you were either effeminate and ineffectual to the point of terminal Betatude (which they despised but accepted) or that you were an angry, violent male chauvinist intent on perpetuating the oppressive nature of the Patriarchy and therefore merited their disgust.  And if you tried to claim to be the former, they did everything but demand you castrate yourself before they'd admit it.

FTBYAM and FTBAF taught two generations of boys to loathe themselves and hate their own gender.  It taught us that that women were smarter than men, women were better than men, that women had better promise and better sense than men, and -- most importantly -- women were just more important than men . . . and particularly young men who weren't even cute boys anymore.  Yech.

By the time my generation hit our teenage years, crawling into a popular culture of disaffected youth and wailing androgyny was all we could do to survive this pervasive, intentional attack on masculinity.  The institutional bullying by "tough, smart, independent women" in our public and private institutions, not to mention the culture at large, taught us to fear women, not trust them in the slightest, and it didn't do a damn thing to make us less resentful.  It just showed us that, for men, feminism was about revenge and suffering, not about equality and fair play.  We could take a look around at the social carnage of divorce and hum a few bars of one of the songs with tragic irony and KNOW that it was bullshit . . . but bullshit that was Industry Standard.  The families we saw were chaotic messes who mostly just argued, drank, fought, and went to counseling until it was time for a divorce.  Few of the kids I knew ever had a place that you come home to where people love you and support you and miss you and can’t wait to find out what you did today."  That was a sick fantasy, compared to what was actually happening to "family" in America in the 1980s.  Mostly their parents yelled at them about homework, asked them pointless questions and didn't wait to hear the answer, and then went off on their own little head-trips about their own failing relationships.

Of course there's been a lot of water under the bridge since then.  We've had two generations of catastrophic hypergamic divorce to look back on, two generations of weekend-or-absent dads, two generations where men didn't feel comfortable trying to talk to their sons at all, lest they be accused of "spreading sexism".  The original children of divorce have overcome the stigma enough to rack up three or four divorces and step-families of their own, now.  The Patriarchy has well and truly fallen, and now only the Puerarcy remains.  Two generation of anti-social Betas too battered by feminist combat dating and no firm social rules has had an effect someplace other than the Glass Ceiling.  I have seen Scout troops filled with boys from single-mom homes, and gosh, they didn't look nearly as happy, secure and fulfilled as those from two-parent households.

Because almost thirty years after Free To Be, we can measure its results, and those results are mixed at best.  While it's true that you have empowered, intelligent, highly-motivated young women willing to devote a decade and a half of their best reproductive years to climbing the corporate ladder, at the end of that climb they discover that their reproductive options (what we use to call "husbands") don't want a thing to do with them.  Feminists may make decent bosses and great co-workers, but they make cruddy wives and mediocre mothers, with a few notable exceptions.

You can chalk up at least a bit of the "marriage gap" (the age at which couples get married for the first time -- it was about 19 in 1960, it's 28 and rising here and now) to women focusing more on career interests . . . but you can explain a lot more of it if you consider that the dudes out there just don't want to get married at all, anymore, and particularly not to women who are more concerned with corporate bonuses than childcare.  Dads (and potential dads) are, indeed, a lot more involved and sensitive to their reproductive issues today (thanks, feminism!), and because of that those men who do put thought and effort into their fatherhood, including good wife selection, wouldn't marry a feminist on a bet.  The likelihood of catastrophic failure is just too high, especially when there are plenty of better options out there.  Foreign brides, "traditional" girls, or women who see themselves as mothers and (gasp!) wives rather than employees or competitors are all better bets than your average feminist, for the men of America.

(Free To Be . . . A Spinster!)

As for me, I'm going to take Marlo's advice: I'm going to be Free.  To be.  Free to be . . . a Man.  A big, hairy, thoughtful, considerate Patriarch far more concerned about my children's emotional welfare than whether or not my daughter can make partner before she's 30.  A Man, unafraid of women and disdainful of feminist shaming rhetoric.  A Man who understands that violence, power, money, and ingenuity are all tools at my disposal, not reasons to loathe who I am.  A Man who feels no shame at looking and lusting at women for fear of offending their "rights" not to feel afraid of me.

I was afraid of women for thirty years.  Female fear is just not a high priority for me.

But, thanks to Marlo, I'm Free.  Free to Be.

I'm free to be a Man who takes a wife (who knows and understands that "wife" doesn't mean "equal and temporary domestic partner", but WIFE) and raises his kids without fearing Marlo's ire.  A Man who feels no pity at the struggle of young women trying to find a job in this economy because there was damn little pity demonstrated to me during the last economic recession    I'm free to be a Man who can stick his tongue out at the gigantic shit test that is feminism and ignore it, because it just isn't working for me anymore (and, I see, it never really was).  I'm free to be a Man who doesn't feel compelled to sacrifice the futures of my sons in order to elevate my daughter's.  Sure, they're free to be whatever the hell they want . . . but they also understand that that freedom is dependent, partially, on their accepting my guidance, or they'll be free to slug it out on their own. I'm free to be a Man who delights in the sight of naked boobs and the hum of precision machinery, who doesn't consider the expression of my sexuality an attack on femininity, who demands respect -- yes, demands it -- or I won't play anymore.

And that's where Marlo And Friends really went wrong for half of the audience they were shooting for.  They managed to inject the idea of gender-free economic and social empowerment, but they did so in such a way that promoted the active and willful disrespect of masculinity and male authority.  And while that would make any real feminist cream her jeans just hearing about, the sad, Red Pill fact is that when you promote disrespect for masculinity in a culture, you do not automatically increase respect for femininity.  You just get a lot of sullen, pissed-off, uninvested men who can't wait until the feminists are out of the room so that they can tell that joke.

And a lot of strong, independent, empowered women who can't get two dates in a row with the same dude, much less a commitment, a ring, or a family.  Women who traded in their reproductive future and betrayed their genetic destiny for the promise of a respect that never was fulfilled.  Those poor women, thanks to feminism, are Free To Be single for the rest of their lives and die alone, childless, and unloved by men.  They get to stamp their feet in rage as the dudes they once dated and tried for years to get to commit end up getting married to much younger women (often in a matter of months) from the Philippines or Korea or Brazil or Siberia and start popping out kids like it's double coupon day.  These strong, independent women who were told there would be PLENTY of dudes waiting for them when they were done Being Free To Be are now realizing, to their horror, that they've been sold a bill of goods.  They're Free To Be a corporate drone with a vagina that's increasingly losing the attention she craves and increasingly getting frustrated at all of the guys who are just not real damn impressed with how well they've done.

But that's okay, Ladies.  Because it's all right to cry.  We should know.  We've been doing it behind your backs since 1974.

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Our Masculine Power Part Three: The Power To Know, Discover, and Do

Our third masculine power is the Power to Know, Discover,  and Do.  The Sage Power.

This Masculine Power is the cornerstone of every civilization.  Men have a talent for learning things, knowing things, organizing, recording, and using that knowledge productively in a way that is uniquely masculine.  From the earliest beginnings of tool-using culture, the man who knew how to make fire, tie knots, and recognize a good game trail when he saw it was highly valued.  But it didn't stop there.  To our paleolithic forebears the Power to Know was the basis of all magic and technology.  Before writing, when our ancestors were reliant on oral history for every scrap of their knowledge base, the Power to Know was, quite literally, the basis for our entire culture.

Without a way of permanently recording the information, for 100,000 years the only way for one generation to communicate to the next generation was to preserve it within the minds and memories of the elders of the tribe (men and women).  If invaders came through, killed off the elderly after they disposed of the warriors, then the women and children who remained would be utterly bereft from their history and knowledge base.

Old men and women, in tribal cultures, are highly valued because of their experience and their skills, but most of all they are valued because they are living storehouses of culture -- myths, legends, folk wisdom, practical advice.  And it was a survival skill: the more a man could cram into his skull, the more likelihood his descendants would keep him around after his teeth fell out and his accumulated wounds and age kept him from being a productive hunter.  The Man Who Knows is one who has a special talent for acquiring, gathering, and organizing knowledge in a way that is both practical and elegant.

From that need to know and do came the basis of writing, the greatest piece of magic to arise since human speech and the use of fire.  Writing, originally designed to track supplies or trade, or to communicate with the gods, or to other learned men, was the first way that discrete information was able to be transmitted between the generations -- and stored independent of a human brain.

More, it allowed men to talk to each other over long distances, their exact words unfiltered by a messenger.  Indeed, a messenger could well be wholly ignorant of the message he carried.  Such magic was profoundly impressive to the mind of our tribal ancestors, so profound that its origin is usually ascribed to the gods.  The utility and usefulness of literacy was so important that in every culture in which writing arose, knowledge of the written word became the hallmark of the Sage.  And from literacy, all history and culture flow.

At the root of this Power is a man's innate curiosity about the Universe coupled with the knowledge that he can affect that same Universe in some useful ways.  To Know and to Do, in other words.  Whether the issue was hunting, building shelter, reading the stars, butchering an animal, managing a wife and family household, understanding the ways of wildlife and plants, or knowing the minds of the gods, Man has a talent for collecting and using information that is inherently admirable.  Further, the more a man knows and the more he knows how to apply what he knows, the more high value he is, in any society.

The masculine icon I've chosen for this particular Power is that of Sherlock Holmes.  The fictional detective invented by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle epitomizes all of the grand aspects of this Power.

Holmes was brilliant, of course, but he was also unarguably masculine.  From his height (complimented by the iconic Deerstalker hat) and his predilection for smoking a pipe alone Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous consulting detective was the master of Knowledge in a particularly powerful Victorian way.  Not only was he well-educated in the classical sense, he was also steeped in the emerging Scientific Revolution (and the nascent science of Criminology), as well as being the possessor of a huge amount of seemingly inconsequential minutia that, when coupled with deductive logic and keen observation, seem to give Holmes the appearance of super powers.

That is how it should be, and how it usually is.  The Sage is the Wizard, the Magician, the Scientist, the Philosopher, the Sophist.  He is the man who can put his passions aside and focus on the pure acquisition of knowledge and its application, often to the exclusion of all-else.  In the extremes this can lead to the "absent-minded professor" or the "befuddled scholar", a man so filled with facts and education that his ability to apply those things constructively is affected.  At the other end are the "Mad Scientist" and "Evil Sorcerer" stereotypes, where knowledge and power combine into a twisted version of the Man Who Knows.  Ideally, the Man Who Knows uses his great knowledge to help his fellow man and society at large, but for every Holmes there's a Moriarty -- something the Sage knows all too well.

There's a sense of cool aloofness in the Man Who Knows.  He has a pure confidence that even the reactionary Warrior or the order-obsessed Captain does not, and an assuredness that borders on cockiness.  The combination, even when the subject actively disdains female companionship, attracts women like tuna draws cats.  Placing his mind (and therefore his soul) out of reach of mere mortal woman and into the realm of pure Knowledge makes the Sage as utterly unobtainable as he is irresistible.  His dedication to a higher purpose and his attention to something other than the "base and lustful" nature of sexuality gives him an allure to females that even awkward appearance and mannerisms don't deter.  Indeed, sometimes the odd appearance or nature of the Sage actually adds to his allure to these women.

Sherlock Holmes has attracted feminine attention since the stories were first published, so attracted to Holmes' intelligence and calm, confident demeanor where the women who read them (despite the description of his scarecrow-like appearance).  His modern spiritual descendants, Mr. Spock and Mr. Data, have likewise attracted large female followings, and likewise have highly unusual appearances.  Sheldon Cooper on The Big Bang Theory, epitomizes the modern Man Who Knows, to the extent that his knowledge interferes with his ability to function socially in his world.  That is a hallmark of the Sage. Yet it does not detract from him attracting a certain kind of female, often one with similarly powerful intellect (although usually lacking in the dedication that male Sages display, much to the dismay of their penises.)

The masculine allure of the man who Knows -- and Knows How To -- is powerful.  Yet it is his willingness to place his vocation and study above the comforts of female company that adds to this allure the most.  To women, the Man Who Knows is attractive in part because of his unwillingness to grant his attention to women and sex over his work.  Their frustration of not being able to capture his attention is often a key to why the geeky, brainy types often have very dedicated female admirers from afar.

If the power to Order belongs to the Captain and the power to Destroy and Defend belongs to the Warrior (the "jock"), then the power to Know belongs to the Sage (that is . . . the Nerd).  In ways that most women cannot imagine, Men have a capacity to immerse themselves in the study of just about anything, or master the intricacies of just about any tool, that effectively shuts out the rest of the world.  Men obsess about knowing stuff -- car stuff, sports stats, natural history, politics, religion, history, literature, cultural affairs, music, and large blocks of specialized minutia that confound the power of femininity to appreciate.

Women don't need to know what to successfully compete in their Matrix, they need to know who.  But the power of knowledge to men is far more dramatic than the power of knowing who is doing what to whom among the FSM.  Nor is it all a matter of education and upbringing.  I've known dudes I swear weren't bright enough to tie their own shoes lecture me at length about the technical details of stock car racing or the statistics involved in baseball or the technical efficiency of a precision-made firearm.  When a man has an interest, a curiosity in a subject, he will frequently transcend his own boundaries in fulfilling his need to Know.

In fact, to a lot of women, a man's desire to "master" any obscure subject appears to be unproductive and unuseful . . . until it is productive and useful.  If you're a motorhead who knows more about the internal combustion engine than is truly healthy, to her you're a hobby-obsessed man who likes to pay far too much attention to oil viscosities and torque and other useless shit and not nearly enough attention to her.

Until her car breaks down on the side of the road and he manages to fix it without calling a tow truck.  Then she thinks he's a fucking genius.

The Sage's knowledge may be specific and obscure or general and useful.  But it is nearly always a product of his passion and his desire to understand.  That, too, is one of the things females find alluring about the Man Who Knows: he is deeply passionate . . . just not usually about pussy.

In a lot of ways, however, Game in general is the invention of the Men Who Know.  Game is applied psychology and social management with a strong emphasis on gender and hormones and subconscious responses.  Game is what happens when a bunch of really smart nerds started applying the Power to Know and Do to the problem of modern mating.  It is the accumulated wisdom and knowledge based on the experience and observations of hundreds of Men Who Know.  And its continual refinement within the greater Manosphere can be seen as a dramatic application of focused attention on this subject by thousands of interested sages.  When the power of knowledge is applied to anything, you can respect results . . . even if the thing is something as murky and mysterious as female sexuality.

The Sages invented Reason, and Science, and Literacy, Literature, Architecture, Mathematics, and all the intellectual underpinnings of our civilization.  The passion of these ancient men to understand their mysterious universe provided the foundation upon which each successive generation has built.  Their desire to improve the lives of their people through the judicious use of the secrets of Nature was noteworthy, even when they fell short of the mark.

The Sage power is the power to solve problems, sometimes far outside of one's sphere of expertise.  So many impressive advances in science and technology have been made by collaborations between disciplines, each eager to add their knowledge to reach greater understanding - or just to solve the problem at hand.  If you have the time and inclination, go watch the old James Burke PBS series Connections to see just how damn clever menfolk can be, when there's a problem that needs a solution.

But you don't have to be Einstein or Pascal to use the power of the Sage.  Indeed, we are called upon to use this power every day, whether we understand it as such or not.  From knowing how often to check your oil to the name of the star closest to the Sun to which route gets you home the fastest after work are all products of this incredible power.  Within its sphere are also the abilities to use tools, change the environment around you, and plan for the future. Simple things, from where we stand in our civilization now, but for a hundred thousand years the masculine power to acquire knowledge and wisdom -- combined with the Captain's power to record and order that knowledge in a useful form -- was the hallmark of the widely-respected Sage.

Because the Power to Know isn't just about how much data you can cram into your brainpan, it's about how you apply it to your best effect.  Indeed, despite the stereotype of the professor's brain stuffed with useless minutia, the point of the power is its utility and usefulness to your everyday life.  The Power to Know isn't just about knowledge, it's about wisdom.  Doing the right thing at the right time.

You know this dude: he probably doesn't look like much, but if there's a mechanical issue, he magically produces a screwdriver and can use it to devastating effect -- I know men who would forget their wallet before their screwdriver.  Or the dude who always has a pocketknife.  Or a flashlight.  Toolbox in the trunk.   Simple, useful things that those cursed with a low Sage ability don't think about until the situation is at hand.  The wisdom of the Sage power instructs in the art of planning and contingency.  And that includes preparedness, based on the knowledge that sometimes Shit Happens.  If the practical side of the Sage has a motto, it's the Boy Scouts': "Be Prepared"!

Implicit within this power is your ability to prepare and execute wonders to delight and gratify your friends and family -- particularly your wife and kids, if you got 'em.  All too often a husband or LT boyfriend forgets the need to launch pleasant surprises or how powerful they can be in his relationship.  But that's one of the functions of the Sage.  If the power of the Sage isn't being used to make anyone's life better, then it is a wasted power.  And one way you can help leverage this power into regular, productive DHVs is to promote the illusion that you have an almost-mystical power to have or know or do the right thing at the right place at the right time.  From solving problems to providing comfort to protecting your family, the Sage power is at its most effective when no one realizes you are using it until you're ready.


Here's an example: I get up and take the kids to school every morning, and since the three of them go to two different schools at two different times, with two different sets of breakfast, lunch, and snack requirements, it doesn't take much to throw off the routine -- even a few moments delay can cause a tardy, or inspire one of my kids to forget something vitally important.  So I've cobbled together a little Daddy Morning Survival Kit. The exact nature and composition of the kit has changed over the years, but its utility has not.

I keep a box of granola bars, a couple of boxes of raisins, at least a few juice pouches, a first-aid kit, a brush, hair rubber bands, cash for lunch money, a couple of blank checks for last-minute school expenses, a calculator, pencils,  pens for signing things, post-it notes for messages to teachers or reminders, crayons, a bottle of water, pair of sox, umbrella, etc.  Countless times in the last several years this kit has saved my ass when my youngest, for example, reveals that this is the last day to pay for a fieldtrip he swore he told me about three weeks ago.  Or my daughter "forgets" to brush her hair and put it in a ponytail.  Or my oldest son "forgets" that he has gym today and needs socks.  I reach my hand into the Kit, and problem is solved.

Those are every-day things, but instructive.  Suddenly producing a coveted prize unexpectedly -- like my Dad appearing with an air-conditioner out of nowhere one summer in the south in the 70s, or me producing a bag of dark chocolate for Mrs. Ironwood in a moment of need, because I had the foresight to do so -- are one good way to use the power to surprise and delight.  Suddenly demonstrating a facility long-practiced in secret, like playing the guitar or singing Karaoke or building a garden wall are all good examples of wonder-making.  The more elaborate the plan and the more smoothly it runs, the more you look like a fucking genius.

Every power has a dark side, and the Sage power is no different.  Basically, the flip side of the Sage is the know-it-all asshole, that dude no one can stand to be around when the conversation turns to a particular topic: sports, sex, politics, religion, the usual.  The temptation to show off what you know is great, when you have a good dose of Sage.  After all, how else can you validate your knowledge if everyone else doesn't know you know it?  But by resisting the urge you can often find yourself in a more dominant position.

When you flirt with the Dark Side of the Sage, you often don't hesitate to whip your intellectual dick out and smack it on the table -- and there are some venues where this is, indeed, quite appropriate.  But it also has the possibility to get you into trouble, or in a competition for dominance that you have little hope of winning -- unless your Sage is just that bad-ass.  Remember, the guy who is still alive at the end of the Kung-Fu movie is rarely the braggart -- it's usually the quiet, cocky guy who spent all of his free time training instead of bragging about what a bad-ass he is.  The temptation to show off your brainy goodness should be checked except in the rarest of circumstances.  In fact, the men I know who have the Sage power in the greatest abundance are also those who demonstrate it so sparingly and subtly that they seem to get shit done without actually doing anything.

Another example: my dad, Papa Ironwood, is a former Scoutmaster still involved with his troop.  On a recent camping trip in which he'd come out for the day, one of the younger Assistant Scoutmasters was fretting about the camp, giving orders, and generally disturbing more than leading.  A particular issue for him was a large puddle in the path to and from the camp, which he proposed to my dad to fix with a large work party later in the afternoon.

Papa Ironwood thought that was an inefficient use of resources, not to mention a beautiful spring day.  There was a steady flow of boys back and forth through the spot, so Papa counseled the younger leader to watch.  As a boy would come by, Papa would casually ask him to grab a bit of deadfall from the surrounding woods -- just a piece -- and drop it into the puddle.  In about ten minutes six boys had walked by, and each had added another piece of wood to the puddle, until (about the time he finished his cigarette) you could walk across the wood without getting your feet wet.

"See?" Papa Ironwood told him, afterwards, "I filled that hole up all by myself.  And I didn't even get my hands dirty.  And it beat trying to get everyone organized for a work project for something so small.  Let's go fishing instead."

My dad used the Power of the Sage to break down the job, invite a little, reasonable help from each boy, and therefore split up the work into such small pieces no one minded doing their part -- and the puddle got filled.  That kind of Sage power actually has an ancient name: wu wei, the Chinese word that translates roughly into "action through inaction".  It's a major principal of Taoist philosophy and practice, and I've seen it in action (or, more appropriately, inaction) repeatedly.  It reflects a particular aspect of the male paradigm of the Sage, the power to accomplish the most with the least effort.  Papa Ironwood calls this "productive laziness", but it's essentially Taoist wu wei.

Not sold on the concept?  Consider the machine you're reading this on -- it's the product of tens of thousands of Sages, whose collective knowledge brought to life one of the most remarkable inventions of the 20th century, the computer.  The computer was invented over 60 years ago, remember -- UNIVAC and ENIAC, the building-sized banks of vacuum tubes were crunching numbers by the dozens-per-second back in the 1950s.  When you consider how those massive dinosaurs begat the svelte little device you're probably using to read this, you can kind of see the Western version of wu wei in action, a process called ephemeralization.


That term was coined by the greatest Sage of the 20th century, R. Buckminster Fuller, to describe a phenomenon implicit in human civilization, the great need to do more work with less effort, to use less resources more efficiently.  Bucky Fuller was a naval architect genius in the mid 20th century who made it his life's mission to make every man's life better through the power of his big bulging brain.

Kind of the anti-Evil Scientist, Bucky pulled one brilliant invention after another out of his head.  Some remain obscure prototypes, like the Dymaxion Car and the Dymaxion House.  Some were so ridiculously useful that they were repressed, like the complete bathroom Bucky designed that could be stamped out of one large piece of stainless steel at a tiny fraction of the cost of a traditional bathroom.  Some of these are ubiquitous today, like the octet truss (which you have probably never heard about) and the geodesic dome (which you have -- and which is mathematically the best way to structurally enclose the maximum amount of area with the least amount of materials).  Both were ways to get the most bang for the buck.  In fact, the geodesic structure was so elegant that when a similarly-structured molecule of carbon (C60) was discovered, it was named Buckminsterfullerene in tribute.

Octet Truss Patent

Ephemeralization was a great boon for the industrial economy.  After WWII, when standardized parts and assembly lines allowed economies of scale to produce far more goods at a far cheaper per-unit cost, any way to tighten up the efficiency of the process meant dollars in someone's pocket.  The nascent aircraft industry, focused on creating bigger planes with the lightest materials possible, helped drive the movement towards ephemeralization, and the Space Program put the cherry on top.  By 1975, only 25 years or so after the first computational monstrosities awoke in the Northeast, the first integrated chips capable of producing an equivalent number of calculations-per-second were in use.  In a mere quarter decade, thanks to the requirements of the aviation and space industries, the resources and energy required to do the same amount of work had shrunk dramatically, to the size of a postage stamp.

Bucky's Bathroom - designed to be pressed
from a single sheet of stainless steel and
 costing a fraction of a ceramic bathroom.

Ephemeralization is how you do more with less, and then do even more with even less, and so on.  It is the impetus behind computerization, compact cars, and jumbo jets.  It is the hallmark of the Sage power.  Through its robust application modern civilization has managed to support -- in reasonable comfort and security -- a far larger population than our ancestors ever thought we would.  It is using wu wei on an industrial scale, providing more abundant resources with less effort and energy.

Geodesic Dome

It's easy to overlook the Sage as a masculine power archetype, particularly in the Game community, because it just doesn't get you laid the way the Warrior or the Captain or the Lover does.  Yet it is the ability to observe, to plan, to theorize, and to test (the Scientific Principal, in other words) that allows us to combine the cool order of the Captain with the passion of the Warrior and the empathy of the Lover to formulate Game strategies, Single or Married.  Without the Sage, we are simpletons, lusting brutes who don't think much beyond our next meal and our next screw, and who have very little idea how to achieve either.  With the Sage -- particularly today -- this potent aspect of masculinity can catapult the Sage-heavy dude into wealth and prosperity through education, technical knowledge, and willingness to pursue an intellectual theory to its conclusion.

Dymaxion House
Most Efficient Living Structure For
The Lowest Price Known To Man

Cultivating the Sage is difficult -- to some, more difficult than working out regularly.  But once you understand that the essence of the power isn't just 'knowing', but also 'doing', the figure of the Sage becomes far more approachable for some men.  The allure of the Sage to women cannot be denied, but neither can it stand on its own.  It must be supported, cultivated, and attended to with the care of a gardener for his garden.  The Sage can lead to wealth and power -- always attractive to women -- but it can also find a place where wealth and power are meaningless compared to true happiness.  And for the Sage, that happiness lies in the acquisition and ordering of knowledge.

NEXT: THE LOVER

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Alpha Moves: 7 Ways To Buff Her Position In the Matrix Without Hitting The Lotto

"So what can I offer that elevates her status among her peers if it's not money or status?"

I got that question in the comments of my FSM:Intro post, and it underscores a very real issue facing men -- particularly husbands -- today: what can you do if your woman makes more than you do, and is likely to continue that trend into the future?




I'm in that same boat myself, and it's something I've struggled with.  You see, back in the 1990s when all my friends were making embarrassingly large stacks of cash doing relatively simple internet work, I eschewed all that incredible opportunity in pursuit of a life as a humble writer of fiction. Since publishers rarely check your credentials, and don't buy your stuff on the strength of your education, I was one of the few people I knew who went to college to get an education, not a job.  Hence my liberal arts degree and my subsequent tenure as a waiter.  After years and years of perfecting my craft and getting rejections (none of which mentioned my college career, BTW) I finally broke through into my current, well-paying day job.  For an advertising copywriter in my state, I'm at the top of my game.

That being said, Mrs. I makes almost twice as much as I do.  And she took a pay cut when she took her current position.

Mrs. Ironwood, by contrast, got all sciencey and ended up in a lucrative career in the pharmaceutical industry (which her immediate ancestors founded in this state).  She's really, really good at what she does, and is universally respected in her industry.  She's turned down more six-figure job offers THIS YEAR than most people get offered in their lives.  

Now, the only way I have a hope of catching up with her, much less surpassing her, is for me to have a popular series of books or sell the movie rights to something.  Otherwise, I make a decent living, but not exactly affluent.  She can only go up from where she is . . . and up means a LOT of money.

So our financial relationship was never going to even out, I knew.  And like a lot of men, that bothered me, even though she told me over and over that it shouldn't.  Somehow, her reassurances sounded like pity to my ears and that just pissed me off.  But short of knocking over a jewelry store, there was not much that I could do about it.  And yes, it did affect our relationship . . . for a while.  Especially once we started having babies.

And then I realized that the relationship dynamic of today's 2.0 marriage (although I maintain it's marriage 3.0, I'll bow to convention for the sake of convenience) can't be judged by Marriage 1.0 standards . . . or even the standards of last generation.  

Being a "provider" is always important to a man, of course.  And his ability to provide is one of the big things that attracts a woman to him.  But the terms of just what "providing" entails have changed as our economy has.  I do not hunt down and kill large amounts of protein for my family, like my paleolithic forebears did.  Nor do I toil from sun-up to sundown in the fields to bring in the harvest for my family, like my agricultural forebears did.  I don't even labor ten hours a day in a factory to bring home the metaphorical bacon.  I work in an office.  Behind a computer.   I THINK for a living.

By my reckoning, that's a dramatic improvement on hunter-gathering, farming, or industrial labor.  The ability to put food on the table by the power of your brain alone (well, I do use a computer) is amazing.  But that still doesn't answer the "what do I do when she makes more?" question.  And that's because that's the wrong question to be asking.

You see, being a "good provider" is a huge attracting factor to some women . . . but it doesn't really do much for dudes.  We don't care what our women make, for the most part, unless they are using that financial power as a weapon in the relationship.  When that happens -- and it does -- then you have some serious issues.  If it does become an issue in the relationship, then the simplest way to counter it is to insist that you both contribute an equal amount to the household expenses, with any excess deposited into savings.  But that's assuming your combined income is enough to make your bills.  If it's taking every bit of what both of you make to make it, then who's making more won't be nearly as much of an issue.

But if you don't have money or fame or power to offer your woman, as you ask, just what can you offer her?

Your Masculinity.

That sounds like a trite answer, but it's the truthful one -- and actually a fairly useful one, if you understand it properly.

If you know you're never going to be rich and famous, then what you have to offer your woman is you -- your strength, your stability, your manliness.  You cannot draw your strength from your wealth or ability to provide, so you must find ways to demonstrate your masculinity as an asset in other ways she will recognize and appreciate, and which will advance her in the matrix.  It's not uncommon for women to make more than their husbands anymore, so it isn't as if the consensus of male opinion is that makes you a pussy -- as long as you are making a decent enough wage to support yourself (and, theoretically, her), then you've hit the minimum acceptable standards in the Male Social Matrix.  Being supported by your wife (unless you are the active housekeeper/childcare provider/house husband or recently unemployed) without a decent job DOES make you a pussy, unless you are actively looking or have other means of income.  No man respects another dude who lives off his woman.

So forget, for the moment, the issue of income (and fame -- which is a double-edged sword) and focus on what you do have to offer her.  For Blue Pill dudes, that's obsequious deference that leads to a low-sex marriage.  For Red Pill dudes, it's conscious displays of masculine power designed to reduce the importance of your salary in her mind compared to your value as a masculine asset.  Simply put, if you're The Man at home, then she won't care how much money you make.

How do you justify that to her Matrix, and therefore reflect positively in her eyes?  Here's one way I do it, but there are plenty of others.  The key is to remove income and such from the equation entirely from your mind (which is difficult) and focus on the other aspects of marriage where your masculine strengths can be considered assets.

In short, just because she makes a lot of money and bosses a bunch of people at work does not entitle her to be Captain at home -- indeed, I've noticed that the higher level of responsibility in the professional world, the greater the desire in women to have someone else make decisions at home.  

So step up and be the Captain.  Drive the boat while she fishes.  That's going to be huge, right there. 

The fact is, you both have jobs, and while they bring in different amounts they're still just jobs -- they don't define you.  What your job is and what her job is shouldn't matter to your relationship dynamic nearly as much as who takes a dominant stance.  And that had better be you, or you're in trouble.  But most couples in this situation tend to proclaim their "equality" when in actual practice the female is dominant in terms of decision-making.  She has the money, she has the vagina, she calls the shots and he just has to take it until she starts to despise hi s weakness and look for another dude.

If you're a Red Pill man, the proper response to your woman's job is merely, "glad she has work", and move on.  Because her success or failure at her job is immaterial to how things run at home.  You both work, there is income, there are bills to be paid, and that's that.  Everything left beyond that, the discretionary spending, can be worked out through channels.  Take the lead, start paying all the bills (unless she has an accountancy background or gets aroused by that sort of thing) and start holding her to account about her spending.

Because that's the thing: once upon a time, when women really did make a bare fraction of what men did, the feminist hue-and-cry was that family resources were communal resources, and that women who worked for wages that contributed to the household should have a say in how those wages are spent.  That was great advice . . . in 1965.  

But now that women are making more money, we're seeing a lot more conservative attitude among professional women about "communal resources".  It seems that when the man makes more money, then communal resources need to be spent with both parties equally consulted about the expenses, according to feminism.  If the woman makes more money, then after communal expenses are paid the argument goes that women should control the resources they brought into the relationship.  In other words, it's a Hamster wheel thing.

By taking the issue off the table entirely, and being willing to stand firm on it, you remove it as a potential bit of leverage from her hand.  But you have to be willing to stand firm on it.  

Mrs. Ironwood and I would occasionally have fights about money and who spent it, a few years back when we were still struggling.  Even then she was making more money than I, and I was doing the majority of the housekeeping and childcare.  But I'd lost my job, and after a few months the whispers amongst her Matrix started up.  That's always a bad sign.  Especially when her mother got involved.

No member of a woman's FSM is more influential than her mother.  And while I love my mother-in-law to death, and consider her a gift from the goddess and an example for mothers-in-law everywhere . . . well, she's still my mother-in-law.  When the Ironwoods hit some rough times, she (and her third husband) tried to intervene with some "helpful" advice that was more like a get-your-shit-together ultimatum.  Now, at the time Mrs. I was making all the money, save the few hundred in unemployment I was getting, and my mother-in-law did have a valid point.  But the way in which she expressed it raised my hackles and caused me to Put My Foot Down.

Essentially, after running it through the FSM Secret Decoder Ring, her argument went: "I had every confidence in you as a potential mate for my daughter when you first got married, because you seemed like an intelligent young man with a bright future ahead of you, but I did not anticipate these difficulties and am now second-guessing your suitability for my daughter because you have a mortgage, a child, and she's supporting you while you 'write' and it looks to me like you're just being a lazy slob.  I no longer have confidence in your ability, and I am exercising my right to inject myself into your relationship to guide you to a more sensible and more secure existence, and one I won't be ashamed to tell my friends about.  Now, are you going to knuckle under and take this low-paying, menial retail sales job I arranged for you, where you can apply for management training in just twelve months, get basic insurance and be making up to $30k in just two years, or--"

That's when I stopped her -- for two reasons.  First, because she kinda ambushed me with this ultimatum/just trying to help job offer, and she did it in front of my wife and her third husband.  It was a little rude, and this was from a woman whom I had only seen being rude when the FSM called for such a response, so I was more than a little taken aback.  And towards the end of her speech, her tone got a bit rude, too.  I don't do rude, not from family members.  We can have a polite discussion about anything, but if you start forgetting social conventions, I end the conversation by walking away or a threat of violence, depending on the source.

But secondly, I had this to say: "Thank you for your interest, but I assure you that Mrs. Ironwood and I have -- together -- this situation in hand, and we will -- together -- deal with it to our mutual satisfaction.  While I appreciate your concern for your daughter and grandson's welfare, I assure you that their needs are being met within the confines of our household, without additional assistance, and should assistance be necessary we are fully capable of applying or asking for it.   More, while it's true that your daughter is currently bringing in the majority of the income, that does not give you the right to intervene in our affairs despite your concerns about her -- my marriage was to her, not to you, and I actively resent your attempt to usurp my husbandly authority, or even counsel your daughter in a way that would encourage a separation or divorce.  Our marriage is not dependent on anything but our willingness to make this work, and if that means we live in a tent on the side of the road, then that's where we'll live and you can visit at Christmas.  But I am in charge of this operation, and while I welcome your advice when solicited, I reject your interference when it is not."  Then I looked over to my wife, asked her, "Don't you agree?" she nodded, a little frightened at the confrontation, and we left shortly thereafter.

Mrs. Ironwood didn't disagree with what I said, but it was the first time the cordial relationship between myself and her mother had frayed at all, and she was far more concerned about maintaining the integrity of the filial relationship than she was about the money.  She -- and I -- knew that this was a temporary condition, and she respected my insistence in looking for the right job, not just the first job my mother-in-law arranged for me to get completely outside of my field.  Things were tense between us for a while, but in the end my mother-in-law respected my stand and backed down.  My wife was both scared and proud of me.  I found a new gig a few weeks later and things got back on track.  But after that, there was never any doubt in my mother-in-law's mind about who was leading our relationship, despite the difference in our paychecks.

Because this goes back to a fundamental rule that Mrs. Ironwood and I have in our marriage: we don't fuck with each other's career choices.  As long as there is stable, predictable income, her career is hers to manage and mine is mine.  Oh, I'll offer advice freely (I used to be a career coach, among other things) but I won't tell her what to do, or which job to take, or which educational advantage she should use, and she extends me the same courtesy.  We trust each other enough to make the right career choices -- with consultation, of course, if it involves changing jobs or anything else that impacts the Mission.  

And she came up with the rule: as long as there is predictable, stable income, I could be a garbage collector, and she wouldn't complain.  Indeed, that was the point she made when she gave me a talk the week before my unemployment ran out a few years after my dust-up with my mother-in-law: "I don't care where you work, we just need predictable, stable income", to which I replied two days later, "Guess what, Honey!  I got predictable, stable income writing . . . in porn!" and she just had to accept it.  Because we don't fuck with each other's career choices.

That's saved us a lot of grief over the years that other couples, who feel empowered to direct their spouse's career, have had to endure.  We have each pursued a profession, and each of us is skilled in plenty of side-jobs that could be converted to employment in a pinch.  We're highly capable people, and we trust each other not to be idiots . . . something which has only come back and bitten Mrs. Ironwood on the ass a few times in twenty years.  She has never urged me to take a job purely for the money or the potential for advancement, and she has always emphasized my happiness in my job . . . as long as the bills get paid.

She's an exception.  Most women try to frame their husband by his career or wealth, which adds to their position in the Matrix.  And if you want to improve her position but you're dedicated to running an important non-profit, nearly non-paying organization, it's hard to brag about that to your girlfriends unless you recently won a Nobel Prize for your efforts.

That doesn't mean you're attempt to elevate her are doomed however.  A man who is sufficiently self-aware and motivated (particularly if he has learned Game) can distinguish himself to the Matrix, and raise his wife's position,  in other ways.  And ways that don't emasculate you automatically.

One way is to distinguish yourself is gaining some award or achievement in a hobby, sport or charity.  Mike might only be a truck driver, but if he's a truck driver and the State Champion Bass fisherman for six years running, then he's bragworthy for his accomplishments within the Matrix despite their unfeminine nature -- indeed, because the achievement is within a highly masculine realm, it gives her better position because his accomplishment pushes him forward in the masculine-oriented Male Social Matrix.  And increasing your status among men makes you a higher-status husband within the FSM.  The women of the Matrix appreciate a manly man who does manly things, so such efforts will be met with approval.  Winning an award for your work in a non-profit field will add some status, too, although probably not as much (unless her Matrix is tightly connected with your work).

A second way is by dominating your community with your masculine 
presence -- that is, evoking Charisma around you so thickly it chokes the asthmatic.  Being the man who everyone's head turns to see enter a room gives her mad Matrix points.  Turn on the Charm, turn up the Presence, and go out and be ridiculously social -- not just with her peers, but with their spouses.  Since many mixed functions invariably polarize into male- and female-zones, recognize that sticking to her elbow all night is not going to raise her status necessarily -- go chat with the boys in the corner, tell a few jokes, get them laughing, try to be seen being a high-status male within the Male Social Matrix for a while, and that will help significantly.  This only works if you've been working the Charisma angle, and it should be much easier for natural extroverts.  

But in general, being seen getting along well in the company of other men adds to your instant value in the FSM.  Flirting lightly with the womenfolk can work too, but that also could be dangerous if you aren't yourself aware of the social situation.  But a little public DHV and Preselection never hurts your case.

A third way is to become an absolutely stunningly perfect male specimen.  Like, double up on the P90X or the Insanity for six months until your biceps are showing off their biceps to complete strangers.  A dude can get away with an awful lot when he has washboard abs and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of.  You could be a part-time aerobics instructor who doesn't make in a week what your wife makes in an hour . . . but if you have the body and are rocking her world with breathless regularity, your income won't matter to her Matrix one bit. 

A fourth way: Game her immediate Matrix.  That's essentially what I did, to help her out in the early part of the relationship.  If the new dude your daughter brings home is sullen and laconic, and mostly sticks to himself when he isn't texting in the corner, then he isn't going to do much for her position beyond "Well, at least she found someone...".  The same new dude who jumps up to help her sister clear the table, offers to do the dishes, and flirts shamelessly but good-naturedly with her aunts, and who insists on taking her mother's garbage out and who  volunteers to take her best friend's dog to the vet . . . THAT dude earns the woman some points.  His cheerful willingness to participate is going to up his value to her local Matrix, even if his income and fame aren't impressive.  

Remember, the Matrix values participation, and any woman who can persuade a man to participate on her behalf in an endeavor important to her Matrix will rise in position.  If her best friends and family think she's lucky to have caught you, you've won half the battle.  Just don't take it too far, and know and respect your own boundaries, or you'll be Betacized and running petty errands for her second cousin before you know it.  The key is to refrain from such minutia until it Really Matters, then chivalrously step in and kick ass.

A fifth way: Be dangerous.  Yep, you read that right.

This element of masculinity is often neglected by the Manosphere because of the controversial nature of the advice.  After all, it's scary to imagine a bunch of men going out of their way to be Dangerous in a society where being violent is so easy to do on a big scale.  But I'm not talking about building pipe bombs in the basement; I'm speaking of becoming personally dangerous.

Take up martial arts and practice religiously until you have developed some accomplishment.  If you are less physically natured, consider getting taking your state's Concealed Carry class and buying firearms.  Take up boxing.  Fencing.  Greco-Roman wrestling.  Ultimate FIghting Championship.  Fight Club.  Be Dangerous.

Why?  Three reasons: 1) being dangerous changes your personal attitude.  Walking into a party full of strangers worried about whether or not you'll make a good impression is Beta; walking into a party full of strangers and realizing you could kick three-quarters of the asses in the room, Alpha . . . and it will show in your stance, your stride, and your presentation.  Dangerous men radiate confidence and charisma.  2) Being dangerous means that you can protect her . . . and despite their pretensions of independence, women, in aggregate, still want to feel protected.  Since security is a big issue for most women (and a huge factor in the Matrix) then having a burly man around who is willing and able to kick someone's ass is a HUGE plus, and one that gets reflected in her position in the Matrix.  And 3) Pumping out that "dangerous" vibe puts other men slightly on edge, but it attracts other women who are searching for security and excitement.  That Preselection vibe can be a potent force, not just in how you Game her, but in her position within the Matrix.  If the consensus agrees that Mike is a badass and don't you wonder what it would be to sleep with him, y'know, if Carol got hit by a bus? then Mike's dangerousness gives Carol bonus Matrix points.

The other side of this coin is the fact that there will also be a subconscious (or at least unvocalized) worry among her Matrix that because you are personally dangerous, that you therefore are automatically a danger to her.  While that is a concern, it will also actually add to the excitement women associate with you, and hence bump up her position slightly.  Sure, you'd never lay a hand on her . . . but the fact that you could if you wanted to sends shivers of excitement down the spines of the Matrix.

A sixth way: be Brilliant.  Or at least highly talented.  That's my go-to tactic.  While women are impressed by muscles and money and power, they are also impressed by genuine expressions of artistic or technical brilliance.  If you have a lick of talent in any direction -- performance, graphic arts, music, dance, statistics, sports, whatever, you figure out what that talent is and you develop it until you are proficient enough to show it off.  I coasted for years on my wife referring to me as "My husband, the New York Times Best Selling author", even when I hadn't published anything in years.  The fact that I actually had the talent to write a book that other people would by was impressive to the Matrix, and therefore she gained position from it.  Similarly, if you work the most boring desk-job in the world but you run a rockin' jazz trio on the weekends, that kind of talent and dedication is a DHV that's going to get you points with the Matrix.

And the better you do your thing, the more acclaim you gain, the more brilliant you appear to the Matrix.  Nor must you limit your displays of talent to the one thing you're most talented at.  I'm a good writer.  But I'm also a mediocre graphic artist with a mad creative streak.  So when I designed and painted a fake-stained-glass mural on the french doors leading from my bedroom to my back porch, it was a highly tangible sign of my creative impulse -- and got compliments from most of my wife's Matrix. Plus people outside have a lot harder time seeing into my bedroom.

Papa Ironwood, my father, was a good example of this.  He was definitely working class for most of his life, and for a while he had a second-shift industrial job when I was in Middle School.  That's when he decided to take up the guitar.

Papa Ironwood has the talent for music that Mrs. Ironwood does for cooking fine cuisine.  

For six years he'd get up and start the day with a half-hour of practice.  He'd play and sing.  And he was AWFUL.  He could barely keep a tune, his fingers didn't seem to want to go right, and his sense of rhythm was inexact.  But he stuck to it, amusing only himself and annoying only his children, for six months.  After six months, he knew how to play three or four songs reasonably well enough to perform in public -- much to my mother's surprise.  And after three years, he was a competent musician, picking up fingering techniques and improving his sound dramatically.  While far from the professional level, he had achieved a sufficient level of mastery of the guitar to be able to perform with professionals in a casual setting.  That was enough to give my mother's Matrix position a boost.

His voice, on the other hand, did not improve one bit from Day One.

My point is that anyone can learn an instrument, learn a language, learn how to paint, how to draw, how to sculpt, how to dance, how to compose, how to write.  With all human knowledge at your fingertips, picking up a skill or expanding a talent to a new level of mastery are ways to demonstrate your value.  Particularly if the end-result can be shown off for her benefit.  

A seventh way: Be seen by the Matrix being In Charge of your marriage.  That is, make it understood to her Matrix that while her career is important, you expect her ultimate loyalty and primary consideration is always to her family, that is, her husband and kids.  This sounds counter-intuitive, considering I just said that the Missus and I don't fuck with each other's careers.  But let me explain.

As mentioned exhaustively already, Mrs. Ironwood is a well-respected and powerful member of her profession, one who wields a great deal of authority in her professional life.  Over the course of her career she has had varying levels of responsibility as well, mostly leadership positions, board memberships, that sort of thing.  Among her duties has been organizing conferences and meetings and workshops for her profession, which has in turn led her to a lot of late nights collating and licking envelopes and such.  Mostly I'm pretty tolerant about it -- I support her career -- but about five years ago when she first started to get very active, she called me one night to ask if she could stay for another few hours and take care of yet-another project.

"No," I said, flatly.  That took her by surprise.  Back then (I was still a Blue Pill dude, for the most part) I always accommodated her career needs.  But it had been too long a stretch of her working late nights.  I put my foot down.

"What?"

"I said no," I continued, reasonably.  "You've been out late for every night the last two weeks.  And then you're exhausted on the weekends.  I know you're under the gun, but no, you can't stay out and play.  Wrap it up and get your ass home.  Your kids are starting to forget your face."  

She tried to persuade me, explain why, but I was firm.  Later, I found out that instead of bitching at her for her lack of participation, the dozen-or-so women there actually praised her for having a devoted husband who was concerned enough for her welfare to tell her to stop and come home.  In fact, by the time she left she had started a "I wish my husband/boyfriend..." conversation among the attached women and a "Where do I find a guy like that?" conversation among the singles.  She left in a hail of positive well-wishing and enjoyed a surprisingly large bump in her position within the Matrix.

Why?  Because my insistence on her stopping work was a DHV to the Matrix nodes who witnessed it. And having a devoted, caring, dedicated husband who was willing to stand up for her when she wasn't willing to stand up for herself validated her choice of mate so highly that it became the object of envy by those whose husbands didn't care and those who had no men in their lives.  By exercising my masculine authority over my wife and invoking her filial duty in a public forum, I was not perceived as that hateful man who was trying to sabotage her career, I was seen as the loving husband who had had enough of his wife's workoholism and insisted that she attend to her duties as wife and mother, regardless of the circumstances.  That's a three-pointer.

A common fallacy among career-oriented women is that they want weak-willed, permissive, subservient husbands who will sacrifice for their wife's career.  Feminist propaganda aside, within the Matrix that sort of Nigel is almost an albatross around the neck of a woman.  Even hardened career women are given a much higher boost by having a masculine, Alpha husband who is willing to over-rule her if he believes that her devotion to her family is suffering.

Now, there's a fine line here -- start being a dick, and her position drops and her career suffers, and then she's just pissed at you.  But judicious use of the masculine override can be potent, if it is witnessed by the Matrix.  It denotes a man who cares passionately about his woman, but who is not about to kiss her ass -- and that measure of respect for you is reflected in her position.  It's a delicate balance, but if you can manage to do it artfully enough, you can manage your wife in a way that actually adds to her position.  

So there you go -- seven good ways to improve her FSM position without making a lot of money or making the last round on America's Got Talent.  Use them wisely, and remember: your mileage may vary.

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