You, mister, are rude. Name-calling is unbecoming a gentleman, if that’s what you fancy yourself.
During the time I’ve been a “trad,” I’ve lived in every conceivable type of area, world class city urban, midsize and small city, suburban, small town, rural, extremely rural. By birthdate, I’m considered a Boomer, however, I am not fat, materialistic, wanna-be aristocrat, asshole, or lazy. My parents from the Silent Generation were not from money and my Dad did not pretend to be a self-made man. We lived in an average house, ate simple, often homegrown food, owned one used car, didn’t have a color TV or cable, wore hand-me-down clothes from our cousins, rode hand-me-down bikes that Dad fixed up. I went to college on my own earnings, not my father’s. We kids were not spoiled. We worked after school from before it was actually legal.
We stuck out in our Brady Bunch sort of community. So what? It gave us spines.
If we exist, others must exist as well.
Maybe quit looking at your trad chapel if the pickings are slim to nonexistent. Suitable women aren’t going to magically appear. There may well be single women out there who would like to be average stay-at-home wives and mothers, but are in college and careers because they don’t see another choice.
It costs nothing to look and ask someone on a dinner date or to a barbecue or activity. If nothing comes of it, oh well. But maybe in the process, you’ll meet someone else or just expand your social horizons.