The weirdest members of the "manosphere" have to be the gals.
There are Judgybitch and Sunshine Mary, who circle around Paul Elam's AVfM, Feisty Woman (of notorious #fatshameweek tweeting renown), who frantically bids for Rooshs attention with flurries of insistent tweets, and one precious little flake who calls herself feministex (whether out of deliberate intent to deceive or utter cluelessness, I cannot say) who hangs out at Heartiste, cultivating her own coterie of love-struck swains.
I must assume they are drawn to the "manosphere" blogs because these are places where their gender makes them somewhat rare birds. The fact that they are not always welcome must present a kind of challenge, the kind of challenge certain dysfunctional girls can't resist taking on. In their efforts to gain recognition from the boys, they compete by being even more misogynistic and self-deluded.
It's a strange phenomenon.
Feministex has at times popped up on manboobz with some inane comment or another. She presents herself as a naif who is simply trying to find her way in the world, and who -- despite an "ivy league education" -- doesn't really know what "feminism" means. She presents her credentials for inclusion into the Boys' Club in the form of a full-body "boudoir" photo (head demurely cut off): See? She is giving them bonerz, so they can give her a little of the attention she craves without feeling emasculated.
Although feministex occasionally has held a job in finance, her primary occupation is as the mistress of an older man whom she insinuates is some kind of music mogul. Of East Asian ethnicity, she implies her relationship with her parents is strained (hardly surprising). She often complains that her boyfriend is (1) a dud in bed, and (2) nags her to get a job (again, to be expected under the circumstances).
This week she muses that a "man reader might be right" when he tells her that, given her 100 pound body, and her exposure to "red pill" thinking, she need not worry about working. She can easily find an alpha male who will support her while she devotes herself to "sleeping, working out at the gym, and playing the piano." She might even use that leisure to promote her singing career! (In fact, I have heard an audio clip of feministex singing somewhere online, and she does have a lovely voice.) The male reader tells her, "The 1950s had it right, despite modern feminism's attempt to make us all make fun of that era."
Hoo, boy... the 1950s. Here I go, revealing my age again! What I like (and dislike) most about "Mad Men" is how faithfully it captures the quiet desperation of white suburban middle class life in the 1950s. You see, I can remember exactly what life was like for my own mother and others like her. The endless drinking, the "medicating", sordid affairs, shopping, the bitchy coffee klatches -- all the fruitless attempts to make the boredom and meaninglessness of their daily existences bearable. The pressure to be "nice" in the face of masculine condescension and congenial disrespect. The bullying and abuse so many of them literally could not escape.
Very early in my life, I knew that I did not want this life for myself. And I didn't. Sometimes I think my life has been much more difficult, materially, than my mother's was: I have certainly made my own way, for better or worse. But it was my life: my choices, my experiences, my achievements (and lack thereof). I know who I am. I don't think my mother ever did.
All I can say to feministex is: There is no free lunch. And the women who aspire to be "trophy wives" probably pay the highest price of all. They sacrifice everything for a whole lot of nothing.