New York Magazine put out an article early this month that excerpted ads from TheAtlasphere.com, an Ayn Rand fan dating site. I fail to see how any comments of mine could make these any more entertaining than they are. A sample:
I want to meet a serious woman who both challenges me intellectually and inspires me to noble things by her beauty.
You should contact me if you are a skinny woman. If your words are a meaningful progression of concepts rather than a series of vocalizations induced by your spinal cord for the purpose of complementing my tone of voice. If you’ve seen the meatbot, the walking automaton, the pod-people, the dense, glazy-eyed substrate through which living organisms such as myself must escape to reach air and sunlight. If you’ve realized that if speech is to be regarded as a cognitive function, technically they aren’t speaking, and you don’t have to listen.
I am interested in meeting someone that truly embodies the values and virtues of Objectivism. I have found very few women that have not already been beaten down to a flimsy, irrational, empty pulp. I have changed many girls’ lives, but no one has blown me away yet.
I never “hook-up” randomly, I never kiss a girl that doesn’t deserve mine. I have yet to find a girl deserving of my falling in love with her. But “other people” are secondary values no matter what, so finding someone is not a priority for me.
What I find interesting is that they didn’t note in the original article that absolutely all their sample set were men looking for women.
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Objectivist “love”—ur doing it wrong.
Remember, lonely objectivist males, the next time you wonder if you’ll ever meet that special lady, re-read The Fountainhead. All you need to do is locate an attractive woman who thinks she’s too good for you (she’s secretly intimidated by your awesomeness!), then rape the shit out of her until she understands that you now own her, and that she should be damn grateful to have an awesome ubermensch like yourself as her lord and master. Even if she marries some other dude, she’ll know she’s actually your property.