One thing women don’t get about men is that perfectly capable, confident men improve themselves. The most capable men try to identify their own flaws and fix them. Real flaws, not flaws in their hair style. Men who aren’t trying to improve are dead in the water.
Women of our generation aren’t aware of this. If you tell them, they can’t believe it. Their grandmothers probably believed it, but those grandmothers were raised to work at being better people themselves.
They can’t improve and don’t try, so they assume men can’t either. They think any attempt at improving your self — not your appearance, your self — is utterly futile, proof of desperation and failure.
They see an attempt at self-improvement as either a kid trying to grow up, or an adult hopeless trainwreck pretending to try to “recover”. The closest they come is a magpie accumulation of tidbits of fashionable nonsense — evening classes for adults and so on. An accumulation of souvenirs, not an alteration of the self.
They don’t laugh at the manosphere becase they think we’re going to upset their applecart or something. They laugh because they think what we’re trying to do is as impossible as trying to grow taller. They think they’re attracted not to certain quantifiable behaviors, but to the inborn mysterious innermost nature of certain men, which they can detect by mysterious feminine senses unknown to science.
The hamster ain’t exactly up for a Nobel Prize, is it?