It is a truth universally accepted that a woman, no matter how beautiful, yet smarter than a man is alone and single. Men will run from a woman whom they perceive to be cleverer, smarter, wittier, wiser, and in any way intellectually more dominant than them. It is as true as a man not being with a woman who is physically more dominant than he. Nature repels the connection of such disparities.
P.G. Wodehouse, writing in the early 1900s, exhibits elements of this common man-wisdom regarding high IQ women.
You see, the trouble with Florence was that though, as I have stated, indubitably comely and well equipped to take office as a pin-up girl, she was, as I have also stressed, intellectual to the core, and the ordinary sort of bloke like myself does well to give this type of female as wide a miss as he can manage.
You know how it is with these earnest, brainy beazels of what is called strong character. They can’t let the male soul alone. They want to get behind it and start shoving. Scarcely have they shaken the rice from their hair in the car driving off for the honeymoon than they pull up their socks and begin moulding the partner of joys and sorrows, and if there is one thing that gives me the pip, it is being moulded. Despite adverse criticism from many quarters – the name of my Aunt Agatha is one that springs to the lips – I like B. Wooster the way he is. Lay off him, I say. Don’t try to change him, or you may lose the flavour.
Even when we were merely affianced, I recalled, this woman had dashed the mystery thriller from my hand, instructing me to read instead a perfectly frightful thing by a bird called Tolstoy. At the thought of what horrors might ensue after the clergyman had done his stuff and she had a legal right to bring my grey hairs in sorrow to the grave, the imagination boggled. It was a subdued and apprehensive Bertram Wooster who some moments later reached for the hat and light overcoat and went off to the Savoy to shove food into the Trotters (some friends of his).
Florence was beautiful, a star on the stage, but Wooster knew better than to be with a HIQ. She tricks, she connives, she employs, she masks, she pushes and argues and challenges. To deal with such a woman a man is forced to treat her as his equal – as a man. And no man wants to marry another man. Call it sexist all you like. It is as true and observable as nature. Men want to marry down and women marry up.
Take, for instance, the fact that more women than men attend college, thereby lowering their dating prospects not only by raw numbers but also by higher intelligence.
A caveat here is that betas will marry up for the simple reason that they already view women as equal to or above them and they enjoy being led by women. It’s interesting, then, that as greater and greater numbers of women spend more years becoming more highly educated 1) men have fled those fields and 2) more men betaize through a self-lowering process. Women have manned up and men have gone passive. I will not explore the reasons here. My point is only that as women have gained in intellectual dominance, men have fled both them and the sectors of society men once held. Just as Wooster saw a beautiful girl but stayed away from her, so men today see beautiful women whom they may sleep with but who they dare not engage in any intellectual relationship.
This does not mean that women should not receive any education. But women should realize that the higher they go in the world of intelligence, knowledge, reason, and so forth, the less men there will be either above them or under them yet willing to be under their mental prowess.