One of the odder folk beliefs of the pickup artist subculture is that women become worn down and used up and even a bit addled if they have sex with too many men. Men, by contrast, are said to be able to handle an equal number of female lovers with grace and aplomb.
In a recent post, our old friend Heartiste offers what he sees as decisive photographic evidence illustrating the different effects of promiscuity on men and women. One bit of this evidence: a picture of a young woman used to advertise some sort of singles event. Reflections from the photographer’s lights obscure her pupils, an offputting effect that gives her a slightly deranged look.
Heartiste, apparently not curious enough to wonder why the woman seems to have no pupils, sees this as clear photographic evidence of the tell-tale “thousand cock stare” that he believes women develop after exposure to more than the lifetime recommended allotment of penises.
To underscore his claim that promiscuous men are “more emotionally stable and contented” than their female counterparts, Heartiste offers this photographic evidence:
I think we can all see the problem here. Aside from the fact that a single photograph of someone smiling offers no real clue to that person’s relative stability or degree of happiness with their life – there are plenty of people who can put a good face on all sorts of troubles – this is not actually a picture of a promiscuous man.
It’s a picture of actor John Hamm playing the character of Don Draper, a promiscuous ad exec on Mad Men, in full costume and makeup and doing his best to act the part of a contented man.
As regular viewers of the show are well aware, Don Draper is not always so contented. Indeed, the character is a near-constant drinker with a troubled past who ruins two marriages through his compulsive womanizing.
Here are pictures of Don Draper in some less-happy moments.
Can we conclude therefore that excess promiscuity will turn smiling, confident men into puking emotional wrecks? Well, no, because, again, Draper is a CHARACTER, not a person. He’s NOT REAL.
But don’t try telling Heartiste that, because he seems to prefer to live in an imaginary world.
A man can sample the slits and furrows of outrageous fortune and survive the whirlwind of passion to mark a day in the future when he contentedly and without pathological second-guessing slips into a stabler, longer term commitment.
Women who have sampled a poo poo platter of penes accumulate emotional scars that never heal; promiscuous women have a mental storage closet filled with five minute montages of alpha male love, and these exciting, prurient memories rob the female id of something important. Call it purity or innocence or self-worth or ability to appreciate romantic idealism, the slut with ass chafing from riding the cock carousel is never the same as she was before she let herself get pummeled by dick.
Then again, I suspect that most of those women who’ve “sampled” Heartiste’s alleged charms would have, in hindsight, rather spent the evening cleaning shit out of a toilet tank.