There will always be naysayers. Blue-pill thinkers insist that men[1] can only find satisfaction through a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood woman. Meanwhile, science fiction prophets have painted a future full of robotic dream girls, perfectly indistinguishable from their human templates. Here on Earth, demand is soaring: companies are pouring R&D dollars into the problem; artificial intelligence is improving daily; and robot brothels are opening to meet a swell of demand from curious men.
Some men look at the current models and see the glass as half-empty (not life-like at all), while others see it as half-full (all of the holes work). Both of these responses are fair, but there is one category of man who has become lost. He is enthralled by the idea of these robots. He sees them as a game-changer, and the solution to his problems. He tells himself that he is almost ready to quit women. All he needs first is an electronic one.
The cyber-dolls we see in fiction are a metaphor for men gaining the power to quench their thirst without women; for being freed from the deprivation that biology has imposed on us, and that stands as a gauntlet that each man individually struggles with throughout his life. In that metaphorical sense, the robots are already here. A man can already have a perfectly happy and fulfilling sex life without ever coming into contact with a woman. The fact that so many self-identified red-pill men have become lost in the metaphor demonstrates how subtly blue-pill ideas can disguise themselves.
Women have no such fixations on us. Their sex toys are not full male forms, but simple, utilitarian tools, designed to hit the right nerve endings, which they do with super-human prowess. The story of a man going head-to-head (so to speak) with a Hitachi Magic Wand would end like John Henry’s encounter with the steam engine.
Henry Ford is famously quoted, “If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.” An even better analogy is the history of inventing the airplane. Designers struggled without success to create, in effect, mechanical birds. The breakthrough did not come until the Wright brothers set aside imitating nature, and used every advantage available to mechanical objects. Not propulsion by flapping wings, but by a propeller, a technology that is impossible for a living thing.
Every man’s primary sex partner, throughout life, is himself. This is true whether the man has a fifty-year marriage or is a life-long celibate. For decades, sex educators have encouraged women to take ownership of their bodies, explore them, and figure out how they work. Men have not received this message, presumably on the assumption that naughty boys cannot keep their hands off themselves, anyway. Sex robots are not a pinnacle that, once reached, will solve everything. They are merely one peak within a mountain range of techniques, toys, and activities for personal satisfaction. Just like no bird can fly as high or as fast as a Boeing 747, these options present men with variety, feeling, and sensations that women cannot provide, all to be indulged in selfishly and at will. Hoping for life-like sex robots should not distract from what is available today, including pornography, erotica, toys, internet chats, and much more.
So why is that seemingly red-pilled men fixate on the dream of artificial women to soothe their cravings, while leaving unmentioned the banquet table of options already spread out before them? Gynocentrism is a factor, of course. By fixing our gaze on the female form, men avoid ever having to overcome our natural but immature disgust and fear of our own bodies and sexuality. Homophobia, which is perhaps gynocentrism’s greatest invention, plays a role too. God forbid that a man would allow others to understand his sexual energies as directed at anything other than a hot chick, even in this case a plastic one.
For men unable or unwilling to clear this mental hurdle, the fight was lost before it began. Such men must realize: you are attached to women in a way that women are not attached to you, and you will have to pay the price. If the female form is your idol, sooner or later you will worship. And if a billion men, all stuck in the same trap, cannot even talk about it without centering the female form because we are too squicked out by male bodies and sexuality and are afraid of sounding gay, then we are in no position to complain about a ladies-first world.
Nobody should be ashamed to own a sex robot or any other toy, but it is misguided to see robots as the single answer, rather than just one piece of the puzzle. Men with robot fixations are over women like Noman Bates is over his mother. In a commercial for doll vendor, “The-Doll-House,” robotic spokesdoll Celestina cleverly challenges the idea of dolls as creepy and unappealing by asking the plaintive, pouty question, “Do you think I look creepy? Don’t you think I look real?” It is genuinely funny, but the idea of designing robotic women to be passive aggressive also recalls the scene from Psycho when Norman receives an imagined dressing down from his mother’s desiccated skeleton.[2]
One major lesson of the red pill is how society binds men through shame. The manosphere helps individuals fight back by naming shaming tactics for what they are and standing up against them. Our societal narrative for sexual shame says that that it comes only from religion, or conservative upbringings. This creates a blind spot that prevents many of us from recognizing it within ourselves. The safe, comfortable path is to leave the shame alone, to deny its very existence, to tell ourselves that we feel no shame, but that we are just healthy, “normal” men, and all we need is a woman—or, if that has been ruled out, a robot. The red pill helps men rise beyond shame, and represents the only path available in today’s climate for men to live in fully actualized self-acceptance.
The options available to men today for self-stimulation dwarf what they were at any time before in human history, and they are increasing with each passing day. Metaphorically, the sex robots are already here. Nobody should waste a moment waiting for the rubber-and-silicone ones to catch up.
[1] This article addresses the experiences of most straight men, and is directed specifically to the MGTOW-minded. For brevity, the existence of other men is ignored.
