Why Women Love Dating Douchebags

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Damn, guys on dates would really be out there paying for dinner, holding doors, pulling out chairs and then waiting for David Attenborough's explanation as to why women aren't throwing panties at them in gratitude, aren't they?

And then in comes a sunglassed, tank top cretin talking with the irritating cocksureness of a r/TheRedPill moderator, and a couple of drinks later something happens, some kind of unexplainable magic ethers the room and has every girl wanting to make chromosome cocktails with him.

What do women see in that douchebag?

I will admit it, nothing bedazzles a man quite like the mystery of female attraction (not even History Channel specials on the Bermuda Triangle, and those hit us right on the tinfoil hat), but I can't let my kings keep making the same mistakes, taking their ballsacks water rafting on Axe bodyspray and thinking that reverse-engineering her Instagram username is gonna score them initiative points.

So let's open your third eye to the truth, lads.

What makes women tick? Is it emotional availability? A sardonic sense of humour? Net annual income? To be fair, we won't know for sure until science finishes studying the long-term ripple effects of the 50 Shades of Grey saga — but if we had to go for the one single trait that most accurately predicts whether you jump her bones or take a reluctant nose dive into the friendzone, then it'd have to be high status.

I'm not talking superyachts and orange tans here, though they've been proven to give a headstart on niche occasions. You don't need to be built like a Hemsworth either; if that were true, Pete Davidson could not have afforded the absolute A-list dating history he's managed whilst looking like a Make-A-Wish survivor who schedules STD tests recreationally.

Status comes from within. From how a man carries himself and how much he trusts his self-perception over what others think of him.

In other words, don't walk around with a virgin-esque "where's my hug at" attitude, dropping a bunch of cringe prefab lines you got from the free PDF of some pickup artist's email list and wait for her 8th polite refusal to take the fucking hint because none of that is genuine, confident behaviour. That's not the real you.

Unless, of course, the real you truly believes you're yet another night going Han Solo on a napkin because you didn't work hard enough on your negging technique.

In that case, I would suggest a cranial factory reset.

Man, I can't tell you how many handsome guys I've seen turning themselves into red flag parades on their desperate quest for female validation. They may have nice haircuts and clothes, but they fail to understand not even the fanciest perfume can hide the stench of loser from a woman.

She can tell it's all an act. She will correctly appraise them as unfit for romance. They will have no choice but to succumb to their faulty NiceGuy™ logic and start making friends on incel forums, for they lack the self-awareness to realise puddle-deep opinions and silly mind games come about as charming as Harvey Weinstein on a tipped fedora.

Who wouldn't rather date a douchebag instead of the absolute restraining order material you guys made yourselves into?

Sure, a woman could never let her grandma look over her shoulder as she is about to open unread messages from one of these specimens (that is sure to turn into a game of "Disappointing Dick Roulette"), but there is something about the douchebag — that slapdash blend of tribal tattoos, pre-workout powder and the dark triad of personality traits stuffed into a pair of cargo shorts — that tricks the woman's system into makin' whoopee with him.

Perhaps it's the way he assertively wears sunglasses indoors. How he swags that fur coat like he was just made the winter cover for Scumbag Quarterly. Or the daunting fashion in which he looks down on other men, implying he could turn any of their marriages into a frolic of unhinged cuckoldry should he decide to make eye contact with their wives. Something, perhaps everything, in the douchebag screams high status to women. Do you know why?

Because only a winner can get away with acting like an asshole.

Don't feel bad gals. Let's call this a tragic oversight in the evolutionary timeline. We, men, are otherwise wired to risk a happy family and the kids' custody for a chance of brief, extramarital shagging with the optimal hip-to-waist ratio we met at the office party a week ago, and we're not happy about it either.

So powerful is high-status behaviour that the douchebag, with his arrogance, tricks the woman into thinking he's a suitable partner. In the same way that junk food, with its sweetness, tricks the brain into thinking it's a nourishing snack.

But a low-nutrient, high-calorie error of judgment is what they both are.

So lads, before you start sunning your balls and quoting Andrew Tate, a word of advice: embracing your inner douchebag is not the Mount Olympus of irresistible sexual magnetism that I made it look like. And not only because it's tactless to become a man who is so pushy and lasciviously aggressive that he would force a woman into a survival "Smile And Hope He Doesn't Murder Me" mode.

It's because you ultimately attract what you give off.

That’s why douchebags don't last very long around good women. Because high-value women will eventually learn from their mistakes and stop hanging around aggressive, selfish, manipulative men. They will set them douchebags free, and then douchebags will go find their douchettes, and they will make each other miserable.

Another quality douchebags share with junk food, I guess. The regrettable aftertaste.

Meanwhile, you’ll be working on yourself, sorting your shit out, and consistently making your bed until you realise you can be confident and also compassionate. You can be assertive, and also respectful. You can be independent, and at the same time, reliable.

You can turn yourself into an absolute, high-class sweetheart if you have the balls for it.

Just whatever you do, don't be a loser. That's a stench you can never wash off.