SharpNose's Journal: Ladder Theory and the Twisted Wrecks

Have a good look at the site www.intellectualwhores.com. It was suggested to me by the same IRC-based life form who coaxed me into writing this journal in the first place. It's written by some guy who, along with his friends, have come up with something amazing called "Ladder Theory." It tries to provide a workable model for male-female relationships (although the model seems to really only apply to the relationships of single people - marriage seems to require an extension of the theory).

In a nutshell, men order the women they encounter on a kind of hierarchy - a ladder, if you will - according to the degree to which the men want to fuck the women. It's as simple as that. Women, however, have not one but two ladders. One, the "good ladder," is similar to the men's ladder, believe it or not, and men are placed on it basically according to how twitchy and moist their inner bits get from seeing or being near them. The women's other ladder is the "friends ladder" and other men - the ones who don't make the good ladder - wind up sorted on the friends ladder according to how well the women in question "like" them "as friends."

Any men reading this are probably jsut beginning to have their first glimmer of understanding at this point, because if you have balls in your sack at all, you know that you have been diamond-cutting hard over some woman in your life who has shot you down in flames in the worst way because, as she likely said, she thought of you as a "friend." You tried to "ladder jump,' you got a "kiss of death," and you fell into "the abyss" between the ladders.

Had I known Ladder Theory when the events described in these stories took place...well, these stories simply wouldn't be here. The gimmick behind these stories, for the most part, is the unfairness of it all - the degree to which I was shit on. They are basically banana peels for the emotional mind of an intelligent and sensitive young man who was also very horny.

I would not have kept Elvira on my mind for much past 2 months after meeting her. I was her intellectual whore; she craved my attention and wanted and appreciated many things from me, but my thrusting John Thomas was not among them. I was her Father Confessor.

I would have realized that any woman who actually came up and talked to me probably had already stuck me on her good ladder and I could have had a slice IF I had realized it; instead, I farted around too much until the woman got frustrated and, instead of being more welcoming and/or forward with their own attentions toward me, hand-grenaded the whole thing (see Alison, Warmonger Bitch, Backrub Bitch, and even I Drove a Girl Crazy).

One of the things that would have been a very good antidote to my spirit-crushing misadventures is the notion that you really can't help which ladder any given woman puts you on; if you know this, you won't take it personally when a woman you're hot for brings some other guy with her when you ask her to go to a basketball game with you (that was some OTHER bitch who otherwise wasn't worth writing an entry about - in case you're wondering, I didn't have the balls to tell them both to fuck off when they showed up at my dorm, but after the game as the three of us walked back, I went straight when they turned left).

Understand Ladder Theory, gentlemen, and your lives will be much richer for it.