Title: The High-Value Man's Guide to Dating: Why Your Standards Aren't High Enough (And Why I'm Single)
Title: The High-Value Man's Guide to Dating: Why Your Standards Aren't High Enough (And Why I'm Single)
By A Self-Proclaimed 10x Alpha Who Just Got Left on Read by a Hinge Match Named Brittany
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I have been studying the dating market.
And let me tell you, gentlemen—it is brutal out there for a high-value man. The modern woman simply does not understand what it takes to be worthy of a king. They have been poisoned by feminism, by "the apps," by the idea that they don't need to earn the privilege of being in my presence.
So I did what any high-value alpha would do. I sat down, I journaled, I cold-plunged, I stared at my own reflection for 45 minutes until I achieved full ego dissolution, and I created The List.
These are the non-negotiable standards for any woman who hopes to even glance in the direction of my empire.
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The High-Value Standards (Because Settling is Beta)
1. She Must Bench Press More Than Me
I am currently benching 135 pounds. On a good day. With a spotter. And elbow sleeves. And a prayer.
If a woman cannot out-lift me, she is not worthy of my time. I need a partner who can spot me emotionally and physically. I need to know that if I fail a rep, she's not going to panic—she's going to yell "LIGHT WEIGHT BABY" and deadlift the bar off my chest while maintaining eye contact.
I don't want a girlfriend. I want a powerlifting coach who also finds me attractive. Is that too much to ask?
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2. She Must Cook Like Gordon Ramsay
I am a high-value man. I do not cook. Cooking is for people who are not busy manifesting wealth and staring at walls.
When I come home after a long day of posting on Twitter and avoiding my emails, I expect a meal that would make Michelin inspectors weep. I want beef Wellington on a Tuesday. I want handmade pasta. I want sauces that require a roux, because I don't even know what a roux is but I know I deserve one.
I, meanwhile, will be sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling Instagram, offering unhelpful commentary like "needs more protein" and "you know, Gordon Ramsay would do this differently."
This is called partnership.
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3. She Must Pay My Rent
I am an entrepreneur. That means my income is "unlimited potential" and also currently negative. I am cash-flow positive in vibes only.
A high-value woman understands that my money is our money and her money is also our money. I am building an empire. Empires require capital. The least she can do is cover the $2,300 a month for my one-bedroom apartment while I "scale."
I told a woman this once on a first date. She asked if I was joking. I stared at her with the cold, dead eyes of a sigma male and said nothing.
She paid for her drink and left.
Weak bloodline.
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4. She Must Be a 10, But Also Not Care About Looks
I only date women who are objectively gorgeous. Model-tier. The kind of woman who makes other men look at me and think "how did he pull that?"
However—and this is crucial—she must not care about my looks.
I do not groom. I do not dress well. My entire wardrobe consists of gym shorts, a "Hustle" tank top that has pilling under the arms, and slides with socks. I have not had a haircut since the Biden administration. I am not asking for her to find me attractive. I am asking for her to respect the grind.
If she mentions my posture or suggests I "maybe wash my beard," she is not high-value. She is a hater.
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5. She Must Support My Grind While Asking Nothing of Her Own
My grind is sacred. I wake up at 4 AM (I actually wake up at 11 AM but I post about 4 AM). I am building a dropshipping business (I have not made a sale). I am writing a book (the cover is designed, the pages are blank).
My woman must be my biggest cheerleader. She must bring me coffee while I "work" (watch YouTube). She must tell me I'm doing a great job even when my Shopify balance is $0. She must believe in the vision.
Meanwhile, if she has a career? Ambitions? Goals that don't center around me?
That's cute. But my empire comes first. Sorry, I don't make the rules. The patriarchy does, and I'm just benefiting from it.
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6. She Must Have Low Body Count and High Tolerance for My Body Count
I have watched enough Andrew Tate clips to know that a high-value woman has a "low body count." I don't even know what number qualifies as low, but whatever it is, she needs to be under it.
Me, on the other hand? My past is irrelevant. I am a king. Kings do not have body counts. Kings have conquests. The rules are different for me because I am the prize.
If she asks about my romantic history, I simply say "I do not answer to the state" and walk away.
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7. She Must Never Be Emotional, But Also Make Me Feel Things
I am an unbreakable alpha. I do not do emotions. I do not cry. I do not "talk about my feelings." I repress everything until it comes out as unexplained back pain and a short temper at the gym.
My woman, however, must provide emotional warmth. She must know when I'm struggling without me telling her. She must comfort me without asking what's wrong. She must be my therapist, my mother, and my hype woman, all while never burdening me with her emotions.
If she cries, I will simply say "this is not high-value behavior" and go do pull-ups.
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8. She Must Make the First Move, But Not Be "Easy"
I do not approach women. Approaching women is beta. A high-value man is the prize, and the prize does not chase. The prize sits on a shelf and waits to be chosen.
So she needs to approach me. Confidently. With a well-rehearsed opener that shows she's done her research on my brand.
But also—she cannot be "easy." If she approaches me, she's desperate. If she doesn't approach me, she's not interested. The sweet spot is that she approaches me but also plays hard to get, but also makes it clear she wants me, but also respects herself enough to walk away if I'm not giving her energy.
I am not sure how all of this works logistically, but that's not my job to figure out. I'm the prize.
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The Results: A Brief Update
I implemented these standards three months ago.
I have not been on a single date.
I have matched with exactly four women on Hinge. One unmatched me after I opened with "what's your bench PR." One said she was "genuinely concerned" and asked if I was okay. One agreed to meet but then canceled, citing "the ick," which I believe is a fake thing women invented to oppress me.
The fourth? Brittany.
Brittany seemed promising. She liked my photo where I'm holding a fish (I don't fish, I borrowed the photo from my uncle). We had a good conversation about our mutual disdain for people who don't reply within 30 seconds. I told her my standards. She said "that's a lot of words for someone who lives with a roommate."
I responded: "I do not live with a roommate. I have a business partner in real estate."
She left me on read.
That was 47 days ago. I have not recovered.
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The Realization
Last night, I was lying in bed at 2 AM, staring at the ceiling, my phone in my hand, refreshing Hinge even though I'd run out of likes six hours ago.
And I thought to myself: Maybe the problem isn't women. Maybe the problem is that I've constructed an elaborate fantasy of a partner who exists to serve my ego because the alternative is doing the work of becoming someone worth dating.
But that thought was uncomfortable, so I went to the gym and posted a story about how modern women are afraid of high-value men.
Look. I'm not saying you shouldn't have standards. You should.
But if your standards require your partner to be a Michelin-star chef, a powerlifter, a sugar mommy, a therapist, and a mind reader—all while you contribute nothing except "the vision"—you are not high-value.
You are a project.
And most women are not looking to adopt a project. They are looking for a partner. An equal. Someone who can cook his own dinner, pay his own rent, and maybe—just maybe—approach her for once.
I haven't figured that out yet. I'm still single. I'm still posting. I'm still waiting for Brittany to come back.
But I did wash my beard today.
Growth.
Single since birth. Standards, kings.
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