In my file marked "keys to life," there's a simple realization: people do most of what they do to make an impression on others, and only secondarily think, is this a good idea?

The reason is simple. Influencing others is tangible and a 1:1 relationship; I react to others, they do something, I react. Plotting a good idea requires reaching out into the unknown of thousands or billions of factors. This is why we have writers and kings, to sort through this mess.

We call it status, that attribute of how we're seen and ranked by others, because in a 1:1 relationship, every aspect of reality becomes linear. Am I ahead of it, or is it ahead of me? We might not know if our decision is right, but at least we can say, "well my parents/friends/coworkers think it's smart."

I see this most damagingly in single women, and by that I mean the smart, nice, decent ones. They don't have to be 100% wholesome -- we all make mistakes, and are misguided by media -- but they mean to be. They want to be, if their minds weren't saturated in status programming from others.

These women make one mistake time and again -- they go for the guy who looks like the lifestyle they want to lead, having no idea that he can lead that himself because he's given up on other things. Yeah, he's a hip artist who has hip friends. Who knew that's because he spends all his free time in the studio or the bar? Not good relationship material, but he'll take of the sexual fruit offered, and when the relationship burns down, he'll twitch -- and then order a Guinness.

It's painful, as a man, to watch, because I'm aware of how men think. They are driven toward a goal, and now, that means a linear goal. So they work at it and in the meantime, if given a chance, make themselves more comfortable. And for men when they're depressed it doesn't mean they outwardly manifest, but more than they change their attitudes toward things they actually desire. "Marriage, kids? Not on an artist's salary -- oh well, it wasn't going to happen to me anyway."

So the woman goes cruising for an ideal, passing by the bald guy with a solid job and a better brain (that would be "settling") and grasps the artist in a hard-fought battle beating out other women. Hint to women: if many women are competing for a man, it means he values the one who wins less, because there are others. OMG, that's cold -- but it's reality, so face it or suffer more.

The artist is of course imbued with artistry and its appearances, and may not even be that good. But look at all the people talking up what he's doing! Yeah -- talking it up RIGHT NOW, but not in 100 years, and that's what he'd have to be to really be any good and to make a career of it. The relationship gets established, sex comes into play, and so happy hormonal delusion clouds the failures for a year or a decade, and then finally the woman asks, "Where are we heading?" and he shrugs: where I was always heading, toward my art and friends.

She now feels violated, and he feels like she's crazy, because in his eyes, he was consistent and she wasn't. He always said he wanted to be an artist; she expected him to change because, hey, now there's two of them, right? And they both nourish that hope for the good life, a little house and a few kids, being that dad that people look up to, including little people... right?

But he's given up on that because he's an artist, or a rock star, or rising the corporate ladder, or busy playing video games, or whatever else he's made his goal. He's gone for the appearance of a success outside of succeeding at life and he has status. She's acted because she wants status, and wants to look like the adored girlfriend of a successful artist. But friends, that path doesn't lead anywhere except to itself. It's a type of status stasis.

So she burns through them, from 18 to 38, and then gives up and settles for some guy, but at that point, he's already given up on kids and/or found surrogate activities to keep himself busy... and so it doesn't ever really bond to family, either. Also, he's had his fifteen or fifty-one flings or loves, and is burned out on love. They settle into the comfortable relationship, sort of like buying tires from a trusted local business.

Either that blows up or it doesn't, but either way, she doesn't get what she really wants, because she chased status. Women, pick your men carefully: first, they need to be realistic about life and about you; second, they need to be smart, because smart women need smart men or they'll end up hating each other; third, they need to be kind to those who are friends and vicious toward those who threaten them. Survival hasn't changed since we were chimps, and it won't change when we're cyborgs. The rules of making your way in this world are eternal.

It's painful to watch the female friends you respect lunging for illusion, and then coming away burned out, and, as they hit 40, giving up on life and becoming the kind of harridans every office has: once cute, now looking worn, without much hope and without much pride, but going on because they can't admit their status gambit failed, all while secretly hating anything around them that might rise.