r-strategist Liberal Women Want To Be Raped

Case in point:

I was on my stomach on an air mattress on a dorm room floor. A man crushed me from above, thrusting into me roughly from behind. With a blurry glimpse over my shoulder, I registered the face of a close friend’s brother…

I did my best to piece the fractured night together like shards of glass. The last thing I remembered was arriving at a beach-themed frat party with my roommate, who had primed me with several shots during our pre-game and convinced me to forgo a shirt for a bikini top. Evidently, other friends noticed that I was dangerously drunk, and one deposited me in the common room of her dorm suite to sleep it off, along with her brother, who was visiting that weekend…

When my college friends planned to reunite and go dancing a few months after we’d moved off campus (most of us back in our parents’ suburban homes), I was excited. I didn’t think twice about the invitation to join one friend’s family for dinner beforehand, even though it meant seeing her brother—the one with whom I shared a disturbing history…

After dinner, it became clear that the brother would be joining us at the bar and, strangely, I started to escalate my small talk to flirtation. It was like shifting into an autopilot mode I didn’t know existed. Without a clear thought or strategy, I drank enough to soften my focus and banish my inhibitions… Eventually I suggested we go back to his apartment.

Oddly, being back in bed with him didn’t scare me. We rolled around and made out in the bottom half of a bunk bed… I woke to find three friends rousing on his grungy couch and shooting me confused looks—they were friendly with my pretty serious boyfriend.

I knew I should be ashamed and, frankly, worried that my boyfriend—who I’d been with for a year and would go on to date for another three—would find out. But I was neither. Instead, I felt like I’d scratched a hard-to-reach itch. Cheating wasn’t something I took lightly, but whatever deep-seated need I’d satisfied that night was more important than fidelity.

r-strategist women are programmed to enjoy rape. It is an elevated amygdala stimulus which pushes through the hazy deadness of an amygdala which is deadened on high dopamine and reality denial to produce arousal and excitement.

More and more I think the r-strategist woman’s obsession with rape and sexual assault is a sort of test, designed to weed out the nice guys who might try to take sex if they thought it was allowed. By doing things like #MeToo and railing about how verboten rape is, they create a taboo which is only able to be violated by the truest, most hardcore rapists. That assures that their offspring will not have to endure the impediment of having nice-guy genes, but rather will be aggressive, violent rapists who will rape their shared genes into a plethora of babies in the next generation.

If things aren’t K and K’s can’t kill rapists, it is a killer reproductive strategy.

So they put a taboo on rape, demand they have full control over partner selection, and then get drunk, dress sluttily, and head to a party to pass out in a room with strange men they don’t know, and wait to see which one is the real deal and the best option to spread their genes. And when they find one, they figure out a way to boff him again later on.

Imagine how strange a life leftists lead. No wonder they spend their entire life denying reality. The only way they can follow their reproductive strategy is to completely detach themselves from the reality of what they want, the reality of what happens, and then the reality of the consequences of that on everyone around them.

Imagine her poor boyfriend if he is a K-strategist. His girl is taking it from rapists, and then hooking up with the rapist behind his back. And all he did was try to make her happy, while assuming what she said was the truth. Yet in reality even she doesn’t grasp the truth of what she is.

You can see how any feminist is purely a short term relationship. r-strategists are not human.

Spread r/K Theory, because even if leftist women tell you they don’t want it, they do…