Sex Ploytation

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How Women Use Their Bodies to Extort Money from Men

Matthew Fitzgerald

Copyright 1999 Matthew Fitzgerald April House Publishing 7223 South Route 83, Suite 210 Willowbrook, Illinois 60521-7561

www.sexploy.com

This book represents the observations, opinions, and conclusions of its author, and is in no way intended to proffer legal, medical, or ethical advice of any description. The author and April House Publishing accept no responsibility whatsoever for any liabilities incurred from the reading of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in review.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to: Permissions, April House Publishing, 7223 South Route 83, Suite 210, Willowbrook, Illinois 60521-7561. First Edition

ISBN 0-9669639-0-3

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 98-94955

"We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we are in love."-Sigmund Freud

"When my girlfriends and I go out at night we never take any money with us. All we have to do is smile at some geek and he'll buy us drinks and dinner."-Overheard conversation

"Half the job is in the discovery; the other half is having the courage to present the findings."-Galileo

"A woman's body is her fate."-Old Adage

Esther Vilar, who first saw the light And To The Women of America, who have been trying ever since to snuff it out.

Contents

Introduction vii

1.

Manipulating Woman, Manipulated Man

2.

Man on the Street 19

3.

Isn't It Romantic 31

4.

Man on the Street 47

5.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Whore (The Failure of Feminism) 57

6.

Man on the Street 83

7.

Whore-Ror Stories 91

8.

What Women Can Do 99

9.

What Men Can Do 107

10.

A Few Words 113

A Lexicon, 115 Bibliography 119

Introduction

Twenty-five years ago, a remarkable book was published entitled The Manipulated Man. Its author was Esther Vilar, an Argentinian-born physician and psychologist, who had emigrated from her native Buenos Aires to West Germany. From the vantage point of such rich cultural experience, Vilar was in a unique position to cast a critical eye on the social milieu of the 1960's and 70's; and because she had managed to disencumber herself from the hypocrisy so natural to her gender, she was free to unleash her intelligence as a ruthlessly honest critic of male/female relationships.

Although it was only a slim volume, The Manipulated Man nevertheless packed the wallop of a hand grenade. Vilar's crucial thesis was that women, by manipulating men with sex, have conditioned them to respond like Pavlov's dogs, to be shackled into a lifetime of subservience and slavery for the fulfillment of female desires. It was a coldblooded manipulation, indeed. To Vilar, the typical American housewife was nothing more than a parasitic prostitute living off the bounty of her husband's hard labor, mercilessly goading him to make more money so that she could enjoy the finer things in life without any expenditure of effort on her part. In her words: "Women live an animal existence. They like eating, drinking, sleeping-even sex, providing there is nothing to do and no real effort is required of them."

Extreme though her conclusions appeared to be, nevertheless Vilar had hit her target dead center. Predictably enough, the book touched off a furor of controversy and female rage (it was vilified as a textbook of misogyny). Women's age-old scam of trading sex for food and shelter, so long whitewashed by tacit societal approval, had been suddenly spotlighted under the stark glare of public scrutiny. Women protested; Vilar was condemned as a traitor to her gender; copies of the book were confiscated and burned by threatened wives and girlfriends. The female con game had been at last exposed, and the truth burned like the slash of a knife.

The late 60's and early 70's was an era of abrupt and tumultuous cultural change, and Vilar might have thought she had touched a nerve in younger readers. Giddily empowered by a reckless interpretation of the new fad of feminism, women began to burn their bras and to clamor for better jobs and pay equal to their male counterparts. The invention of the birth control pill freed them to experiment with sex, to enjoy its pleasures without fear of pregnancy. The sort of women Vilar had been castigating-housewives idling away their afternoons lunching with girlfriends and withholding sex until their husbands bought them a bigger diamond ring or a fur coat-suddenly seemed hopelessly passé. An unstoppable tide of liberation seemed to have turned. Yesterday's whores would hand down their burnt-out torches of greed to an enlightened generation of women who treasured men as partners in life, not meal tickets. Sex had become a celebration, no longer a tool to extort money from men. A new age had begun.

But such optimistic hopes were short-lived. This "new age" died a quick and pitiless death, a squirming victim sacrificed on the altar of female greed. As business boomed and diversified in the late 70's and early 80's, and baby-boomer men prospered, the fires of avarice began once again to blaze up fiercely in female hearts. The mercenary opportunities of their gender nagged insistently at these young revolutionaries, and their mothers' words haunted them with timeworn advice: why should men buy the cow if they can have the milk for free? Ironically the equal rights movement, with its emphasis on individual freedom and gender parity, had somehow spawned an evil twin sister. Fueled by an all encompassing anger and avarice, a renegade self-serving feminism had spun off the old one, a greed-ridden parody of a noble ideal. It sanctioned women to become even more selfish and demanding of men than their mothers had been. Now they wanted their cake and eat it, too: while they marched for equal rights and equal pay, they still expected men to take care of their needs, and they still offered the bait of their bodies to plunder male wallets. Feminism didn't free the ordinary woman; it simply gave blunt franchise to her greed.

But the future promised an even blacker forecast. By the mid 80's, female arrogance had spread like a virulent cancer, and women had begun to assess men not as equals, but as inferiors. A woman's version of equal rights had turned into "pay for me-and pay a lot-without question". I am woman, you owe me. The cute conniving of their mothers had had its day; coldly trading the use of her body for big money had become a woman's business. Instead of "if it feels good, do it", now it was "if it feels good, sell it". Make cash, not love. Whoredom was back, and this time with a vengeance. In comparison to this unbounded greed, Vilar's women seemed like schoolgirls making cow-eyes at Daddy to con him out of extra allowance. At least her housewives were more honest prostitutes, selling themselves within the context of the social norm, more or less under the aegis of societal blessing. But these new whores had emerged as the most flagrant of hypocrites, parading themselves as emancipated, yet still insisting on cash for sex, then refusing to admit the reality of their prostitution.

This is an incendiary book. It takes up where Esther Vilar left off twenty-five years ago. The primary targets of its criticisms are single and divorced women, since they are the most egregious offenders in regarding mate selection and dating as a whore-john relationship. In these times of rampant inflation and rising housing costs, economic realities force many married women to go to work-kicking and screaming against their will, of course-in order to help support a family. Still, quite a few women live off the hard work of their husbands, contributing nothing to the marriage but high bills and an occasional lay. At these prostitutes this book is aimed as well.

Male readers will applaud the conclusions of Sex-Ploytation, and will cheer that at long last someone has found the courage to rip the mask off female duplicity to ransom men, emancipating them from their chains of frustration and sexual slavery. Female readers will doubtless be outraged. Some will predictably rant and rave that the book is "anti-woman"; others, threatened by the exposure of their manipulations, will bury their heads in the sands of disbelief and denial. But truth is truth; it exists independent of wishful thinking. All of us are guilty of egoistic provincialism; all of us rigorously defend the battlements of our illusions. Women are especially skilled in such fantasies, preferring magical thinking over naked reality. They are herd creatures, naively following whatever direction society leads them. Seemingly incapable of independent thought, they troop along the path of least resistance, entranced by a kind of hypnosis which allows them to disavow any responsibility for their actions. It takes far less effort to warm the bed of a millionaire than to earn a million dollars yourself. It is much less expensive to pretend to be a tragic victim of a "male-dominated" society than to pay for your own dinner. Even though, like The Manipulated Man, this book is sure to be denounced as misogynist literature, it has no interest in hating women or in female-bashing. It is not motivated by anger or bitterness, or even cynicism. To come to such a conclusion is, as above, to follow a path of least resistance. It is, rather, a book of uncensored observations of human behavior, and so is not an agenda-ridden manifesto, as is so typical of anti-male literature. The conclusions written here may be inflammatory, perhaps even menacing, but they are culled from real life and real experience, and therefore cannot be denied nor disproved. The true purpose of this book is not to despise women, but to shine a harsh light on their mercenary behavior, and to expose this behavior to uncompromising scrutiny. With any luck, this book will inspire social change; at worst it will push a little farther along the trail blazed by Esther Vilar two-and a-half decades ago.

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