Meeting my husband was like grabbing onto the landing skids of the last chopper out of Saigon. Looking back, that was the actual moment I narrowly escaped life as a clueless pagan, a half-baked feminist with mostly fuzzy ideas about what was best in life. By the time I met him, I was a fresh convert to political conservatism, but my nascent right-wing leanings had not yet translated into any meaningful changes in my personal life. I was still a “social” liberal, which I mostly interpreted as being very, very social. As Ben Orr sang in my second-favorite Cars song, “Let’s Go,” “I like the nightlife, baby.”
Yes, I assumed I’d get married “one day” and yes, I wanted to have kids “one day,” but I was not in any kind of hurry. I had places and parties to go to! There was zero urgency about the future. The only future plan I cared about was what I was going to do that weekend. It’s embarrassing to admit that I was not 22 or 25. I was 28!
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In my new book, Domestic Extremist, I describe my reaction when I found out my husband had highly toxic masculine attitudes. He was the first conservative besides my parents whom I’d ever met. When I discovered early on that he was also a social conservative and (trigger warning) pro-life, I was dismayed and shocked. Horrified, even. You don’t believe in women’s rights? You want us to stay barefoot and pregnant all the time? How dare you!
But somehow, it had the opposite effect on me. As I wrote in my book,
When I saw the viral TikTok video a few months ago where a young liberal feminist laments the fact that the only masculine men she ever meets who know how to treat women properly are “MAGA Republicans,” I felt validated. Young feminists are just waiting for these guys to win their hearts! The open question is: Are their hearts already two sizes too small? Have they been pickled in the acidic brine of shrill man-hating for too long, or is there still something left?
Do I want to condemn Generation Z men to a fruitless pursuit of shrill and sterilized young feminists? No, I do not. And I also don’t want young men to hide their inner Ken and pretend to be a woke ally in order to find their Barbie. My point is this: Let your Ken flag fly, fellas. If she is appalled, then she is not your gal. Don’t ever “feminize” yourself to appeal to a woman. Her liberal indoctrination may demand it on paper, but in reality, it will always be a turnoff.
And never, no matter what, tell anyone your pronouns are “he/him” when you are obviously, visibly male. That’s like admitting people might not be able to tell right away!
It’s not hard to find women. You just have to try to find some who are open to hearing you out. If she likes the cut of your jib enough, she’ll give you a shot. You just have to bring the rizz; let your youth or whatever else you got do the rest!
Need some free dating tips? Here are some easy conversation starters to woo woke women: “I take care of my body, and I can tell that you do, too.” “Your name is [her name]? That’s really pretty. I want to name my firstborn daughter that.” “No, I don’t use dating apps. Never had to.”
Drop subtle hints that you’re not like other guys — you know, like their male feminist allies who rely on high-dose intravenous Viagra when it’s their turn in the nonbinary polyamory house to service one of the housemates with a front hole.
Try it! Locate a fresh-faced lass who looks like she still identifies as female and has most of her original body parts intact. You might find her gawking at a campus Slutwalk, or parading in the nearest Women’s March, or at a Lizzo concert. Approach her. Compliment her.
If enough good guys deprogrammed enough fertile young feminists, I wouldn’t have had to write my book. Would have saved me a lot of trouble, believe me.
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Peachy Keenan is the author of Domestic Extremist: A Practical Guide to Winning the Culture War and a senior contributor to the Federalist. She is also a contributing editor for the American Mind and she writes at peachykeenan.substack.com and on the app formerly known as Twitter @keenanpeachy.