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Carolyn Hax, Man-Hating Algorithm

Sep 27th, 2011 by

Ah, Carolyn Hax, Style columnist for that paragon of post-truth propaganda, The Washington Post, has been the subject of tender ministrations here at the Chateau before. Well, she’s back for some more very special lessons.

In her advice column, (goddamn she gets paid for this shit?), she dispenses her wisdom to an astute emailer who wonders why chicks dig jerks.

Washington, D.C.: How come if a woman has dated both “nice” guys and abusive guys, you’ll find out that in just about every case, her longest relationships have been with the abusive guys? Why do so many women require some form of drama to remain entertained in a relationship, and do you find this to be childish behavior?

Carolyn Hax: Not as childish as attributing this to women as opposed to people in general, and lumping all women as opposed to addressing some of them who have a similar set of circumstances, and blaming the victims instead of the abusers.

But other than that, I’m right there with you.

If you are a guy, and if you are angry that women aren’t receptive to you when you see yourself as a “nice” guy, and you believe these women are instead receptive to abusive guys, then maybe it would be productive to consider that you’re harboring attitudes about women (and men, for that matter) that aren’t really “nice” at all.

The emailer is, of course, correct. Any man with a lick of experience with women will know the score — hot babes often spend their prime years in the carelessly aloof arms of assholes. Hax surely knows this in the primitive part of her brain, but the sophistic hamster-driven part is the one writing her insipid advice columns, and so she squirts tepid fembot anti-generalization shibboleths right on cue when someone shines a glimmer of reality in front of her face.

Hax, the truth that makes you so uncomfortable, and which will now gleefully be retold to maximize the pain this will cause you should you stumble across this post, is this:

Chicks, particularly the hottest chicks men want to fuck the most, are irresistibly drawn to assholes. Uncaring assholes, to be exact. There is a simple explanation for why so many men of varying virtue and character and success with women make this oft-repeated claim, and no recourse to lame excuses about “blaming the victim” or “bitter beta males who aren’t really as nice as they say” are needed. That simple explanation which eludes you is that the observation is true. Occam’s Razor never did give nothing to the feminist, that she didn’t, didn’t already deny.

Let’s deconstruct Hax’s reply for shits and giggles.

“Not as childish as attributing this to women as opposed to people in general”

Fallacy of gender equalism. When forced to ponder female mating behavior that is less than angelic, feminists will often resort to the “Yeah, but he does it too, Mom!” form of argument. It’s not a very good debate tactic, but it’s made even worse by the fact that it’s a lie. Men are not attracted to asshole girls. Men are attracted to sweet, feminine, hot girls with minimal drama. The holy fucking grail of chickianity is the drama-free, faithful, feminine and beautiful babe. That more than a few of these beautiful babies bring drama with them is sometimes not enough negative externality to turn men off from fucking them. Or even marrying them.

Women, on the other hand, will often fuck assholes even when those assholes bring nothing else of value to the table except their aloof and indifferent charms.

Yes, Mz. Hax, chicks really do dig jerks. They love jerks so much that the bed bounces off the floor when they fuck them.

“and lumping all women as opposed to addressing some of them who have a similar set of circumstances”

Women, and especially fembots, cannot distinguish between rules and exceptions. Thus, they are prone to mistakenly and hilariously refuting general rules on the basis that exceptions exist using the highly Socratic argument known as “proof by indignation at lumping”. In this formulation, noticing a general trend is the equivalent of “lumping”, and lumping is the impotent brain blurt of bitter betaboys and losers. For no man who isn’t a failure with women could possibly notice general tendencies that the female sex shares. Right? See, it’s ipso facto all the way down.

“and blaming the victims instead of the abusers.”

If the girl is choosing to stay with the “abuser”, then she’s not a victim. Victims aren’t normally happily in love with their tormentors. And it’d help if you slippery cunts would clarify what exactly you mean by “abusive”. Plenty of assholes don’t raise a hand to their lovers, but tease, mock, and patronize them in such a way that polite society socialites would publicly denounce for the edification of their SWPL tribe, but then secretly masturbate to with the blinds drawn. If the man is truly bad news, then the girl who stays with him deserves some of the blame for her predicament. That’s right, mothafuckaaaaaa. I said it. I meant it. It’s out there.

“But other than that, I’m right there with you.”

Snark: the universal feminist response to anything that rattles their exquisitely manicured worldview.

“If you are a guy”

It’s time to take back the word man. “Guy” has become the semantical substitute for nebulous eunuch-type humanoid. It is a neutering affectation.

“and if you are angry that women aren’t receptive to you when you see yourself as a “nice” guy, and you believe these women are instead receptive to abusive guys”

It’s telling that she puts nice in scare quotes, but doesn’t do the same with abusive.

“then maybe it would be productive to consider that you’re harboring attitudes about women (and men, for that matter) that aren’t really “nice” at all.”

And here we get to the shriveled black heart of the archetypical thundercunt. If a man notices something about women’s nature that could be construed as unpleasant, he is a woman-hating loser. Since there are no negative generalizations — or any generalizations at all — that can be made about women, it stands to reason that men who do so have issues.

Hmm, now what other modern day leftie newspeak designed to thwart honest discussion about heretical social realities does this remind you of?

******

Update

The anti-SWPL in the exchange above who shocked the world with his plain speaking about what his lying eyes were seeing emailed Hax again for a clarification.

Washington, D.C.: So you’re saying that there’s no segment of women that require drama to be entertained, and I have an attitude problem for disliking drama? Again, when you confront a woman who has been in abusive relationships, which is relatively common, why are their abusive relationships the longest relationships they have? You’d think that the relationship with non abusive men would be the longer relationships, right?

Carolyn Hax: Not if you know anything about abusive relationships. If they were easy to resist and easy to leave, nobody would be in them.

And if you don’t see that men get into relationships with abusive women, and stay with them long past the point of reason, and generate enough drama per couple for a Lifetime movie marathon, then you’re not looking for information, you’re looking to score points.

Sounds like Hax is backpedaling on her original claim that the emailer is a bitter “non-niceguy” with woman issues. So she’s now agreeing with him that women enter abusive relationships. Hax, keep your feminist talking points straight. Is the man who generalizes about women a loser, or are women victims for being so honestly generalizable?

This canard that women can’t resist or leave abusive relationships is utter bullshit. Funny, women seem to have no trouble at all resisting the come-ons of non-assholes, or leaving relationships with beta boyfriends. Where will she go? To whom will she turn? What about the chance he might stalk her? Those questions never come up when the man she’s leaving is a man she doesn’t love.

And what is it with Hax’s contention that men get into relationships with abusive women? Is this imaginary belief supposed to refute the emailer’s original point about women devoting the best years of their lives to long term relationships with assholes? She sounds befuddled by the inconsistencies in her logic. Attention all planets of the fembot federation. The hamster has assumed control. The hamster has assumed control. *squeak!*

The projection by Hax is astounding. Is she looking for information, or is she looking to score points? So far, we have her on record as accusing the emailer of having an attitude problem with respect to women. Sounds like Hax is open to a bracingly fresh and candid discussion! Not.

Men prefer to get into relationships with hot women. Hot women, by virtue (or by vice) of their expanded options in the sexual market, sometimes have bitchier attitudes than less attractive women who must compete by winning men over with sparkling personalities and easier access to their pussies. This does not mean hot women are bitchy all the time, or to all men, but many of them will be bitchy to men they are dating if they feel the men aren’t the best they can get. Nor does this mean those men prefer their women to be bitchy to them; men would much rather hot babes not act bitchy, but will resignedly put up with the bitchiness if she is the hottest they can have at the moment. Men do not chase bitches for the sake of their bitchiness, but women will chase assholes for the sake of their assholery.

Hax, if this wasn’t clear enough, here’s a clue. The reason there are widely-held stereotypes about women chasing after assholes all out of proportion to a few anecdotes about fetishistic men who chub for bitches is because…

wait for it….

hang on…

here it comes….

it’s true!

Do you think stereotypes materialize out of thin air? Here’s another stereotype for you: cunty urban yentas are the last source of advice a man who wants to understand women should turn to.

Posted in Girls, Misandry, Ugly Truths | 400 Comments »

Relationship Game Week: A Reader’s Journey

Sep 27th, 2011 by

The coda to this week’s relationship game posts is a sampling of comments from reader Dave from Hawaii, a guy who kills wild boar with a knife for fun, wherein he discusses his transformation from nagged beta husband of a contemptuous wife to alpha husband of a loving, grateful, gina tingly wife (same woman!), all by assiduously applying to his marriage the core principles and yes, even the specific tactics, of Game. Read and be inspired. You too can improve your love life, inside and outside of marriage.

I got married young, and simply did not understand anything about game, or the benefits of assertive masculinity. I put my wife on a pedestal and spent 7 years or so of a very contentious, walking on egg-shell type of relationship that teetered towards divorce more than a few times.

I discovered PUA/Game sites like this one a few years ago, and after a bit of reading on shit tests, and the subconscious mating desires of females, I began to “run game” on my wife.

The transformation of our relationship is astounding.

Yes, she put on a good 40 lbs. a couple of years after we got married.

Once I learned to game her subconscious, competitive instincts and began to plant suggestions in her mind that I was desirable to other women…she’s gotten motivated and lost the weight, and her affection towards me reverted back to the way she was before got married.

Once I started recognizing her shit tests and began to not just “pass them” but literally blow them up, the passive-aggressive emotionally driven conflict that had been the hallmark of our relationship has all but disappeared.

We don’t fight anymore.

My wife, who used to grumble and complain and tell all her closest friends and family that we had a “difficult relationship with lots of problems that needs working on” now tells everyone she’s happily married without blinking an eye.

Game… it does a body good!

******

I changed our relationship dynamic after learning about game.I stopped always asking her what she wants and started being decisive while playing up the mysterious angle.

Here was a typical scenario back then:

HER: “I’m hungry.”

ME: “What do you want to eat?”

HER: “I don’t know…”

ME: “How about McDonalds?”

HER: “I dunno.”

ME: “How about Taco bell?”

HER: {shrugs}

ME: “KFC? I know you really like the original recipe chicken dinner…”

HER: “well yeah…”

ME: “OK, great, let’s go!”

Drives to the KFC drive-thru.

ME: I’ll have the Zesty Crispy Chicken Wrap…what do you want, honey?”

HER: “I don’t want to eat here.”

ME: “What? I thought you said…”

HER: “I never said I wanted KFC.”

ME: “But…what do you want then? Whatever you want, just let me know, and we’ll go there!”

HER: “It’s too late, you’ve already ordered here.”

ME: “Fine then. So what do you want?”

HER: “Nothing, just take me home. I’ll figure out what I’m going to eat later. {Said in a grouchy tone}.

ME: “Why do you have to be like that?

HER: “Be like what? I never said I wanted KFC!”

ME: “Well what do you want then?”

HER: “Don’t worry about me already! Just get YOUR food and take me home!”

ME: “I’ve asked you how many times to tell me what you want and I’ll take you there! Why do you always have to act like this?”

HER: “Act like what? Nevermind already! It’s obvious you don’t really care about what I want…it’s only about what you want! I didn’t want KFC and yet you’re trying to make like it’s all my fault just because I don’t want to eat here! I never wanted to eat here in the first place!!!!”

ME: “$*%^(YT@#($)(#&!!!!!”

Same scenario, now:

HER: “I’m hungry”

ME: “So am I. Let’s go.”

HER: “Go where?”

ME: “You’ll see.”

HER: “C’mon, tell me…”

ME {Rolling my eyes and turning away from her, getting ready to head out with or without her.}: “Are you gonna sit here and play twenty questions like a spoiled little princess or are you gonna come along and eat with me?”

HER {Now she starts getting ready to go.}: “C’mon…why don’t you tell me…”

At that point, I could take her to a fine-dining restaurant or McDonalds, it doesn’t matter.

What mattered was that I passed her shit test and played the role of the ‘provider.’

I stopped treating my wife like I was an enslaved sycophant willing to do whatever the goddess desired and started treating her like the kid sister with the backhanded compliments, light-hearted teasing, and over-the-top sarcasm to deal with her shit-tests…all within the “frame” of subconsciously reinforcing the notion that I’m attractive to other women.

For another example, I remember one instance where we went to a dinner party, and there was a, beautiful, blond girl that was a friend of a mutual friend, and it was the first time we met her. Her and I hit it off immediately on a conversational level.

After the dinner, on the ride home she started in…

“So tell me, is _______ better looking than me?”

Now the reality is that why yes, she was…and we both knew it. (Turns out, she was a former swimsuit model…)

I was scared to death to admit this to her. I immediately and reflexively lied to her. She became infuriated.

“Why’d you keep talking to her all night long? Where you attracted to her? Don’t lie, I saw you looking at her while you were talking!”

I uncomfortably whimpered “Well, she was sitting directly across from me all night long…”

Needless to say, the conversation continued to escalate in that vain, with her continually getting angrier and angrier as she played the role of hostile interrogator, and I, the hapless idiot husband, caught doing something wrong…trying to squirm out of the pending punishment.

She “dominated” this conversation from the beginning, she set the frame and I unwittingly relinquished my backbone.

Eventually it turned into a full blown argument as I got angry at her for getting angry, because in reality I had done nothing wrong but have the temerity to have conversation with a beautiful woman at the same dinner table.

Contrast that with how I handle a similar incidents now, after I had figured out the underlying dynamics behind why we would always get into those types of fights and arguments…

(generic paraphrasing of a typical situation}

ME: “Of course she was talking to me! Most beautiful women do! That’s EXACTLY why you married me! What lady can resist these?” (Thrn I would just flex my biceps and like I’m the world’s baddest man…all with a smirk on my face.)

HER: She rolls her eyes, chuckles and responds, “Yeah right…no woman would want you if you were the last guy on earth.”

ME: “That’s not what your {name of her best friend} said the other night when she was begging me to kiss her…”

HER: {giggling} “You’re so silly…”

In other words, I learned to turn those “shit tests” into playful banter with a subtle frame of reference (treating her like she’s the “younger sister w/ cooties” instead of the goddess who I’d be most fortunate if only she’d let me kiss her feet), rather than address them at face value. In short, learned to “lead the conversation…i.e. “dominate.”

I used to tell her the typical lies of a cowed and fearful married man that is the ubiquitous caricature of men in today’s feminist warped mass media… “No honey, I ONLY have eyes for you! I promise! I don’t even LOOK at other women!”

In retrospect, I can’t believe I spent YEARS protesting innocence and begging her to not get upset, and never realized that taking that tact ALWAYS resulted in bad feelings and “relationship problems.”

At the same time, I reinforce the notion that I’m desirable to other woman (remember – no one wants to go to the club that is empty…everyone wants to get in to the one with the line around the block.)

And I tell you, I really REALLY felt silly and ridiculous when I first started acting like that whenever the shit tests came up.

Now, it comes to me like a second reflex.

Most betas, when they first learn game and apply it to their dealings with women, are utterly taken aback by how effective it is. A light goes on, and they feel the spiritual alpha surge of a thousand ancient warriors coursing through their veins and guiding them on the path of righteousness. Swing your two-handed skin sword and drink heartily from the scrotal-shaped chalice, Warrior-Poet! Your dominion over the gina tingle is assured.

******

The more I tried to supplicate [my wife]…to plead with her…to beg her “why do you have to be so angry? Can’t we just get along? Is this really that big of a deal? Look, I’m sorry….”

Oh yes, I was ALWAYS apologizing. Oh, and I usually begged for sex.

I would try to use logic and reason to deal with her emotional state. Never worked. Ever.

In other words, I was letting her emotional state dictate my response. I was trying to appease her mood.

After reading up on game, I gained insight into the basic, biological motivations of females. I quickly realized that I was acting beta, and she was no longer attracted to me…making her angrier and angrier by the day because she couldn’t stand the fact that she was married to and living with a spineless, grovelling chump always searching for appeasement and begging for sex. 

Once I was conscious of that dynamic…I became conscientious about how I began acting around her.

For a recent an example of that change of mindset I’m talking about:

Just the other night, I called her to let her know I was coming home so she could time dinner to be ready when I got home.

I was dead tired from my martial arts training that day (I was doing full contact kickboxing training, very rigorous)…and I stopped at my friends house at around 5:00pm to drop something off that I had borrowed from them and have a quick drink before heading home.

After one drink, I lay down on my friend’s couch for a moment…and the next thing I know, it’s 2:30am in the morning.

I drove home, and got into bed. I thought she was asleep…but she promptly said in a real bitchy tone “Where you having fun tonight?!?!”

I simply said “I fell asleep on _____’s couch. I’m tired, good night, dear.”

And promptly rolled over and went to sleep. I don’t even remember what she said to me in response.

The “old” me would have been begging her for forgiveness and apologizing profusely.

She was still upset the next morning…so I let her be upset. She tried to argue with me about it, and I would just shrug, and go start cooking breakfast. She would say something pointed, and I would change the subject.

When she kept pushing me, I just told her straight up – I was dead tired, I lay down for a moment and literally passed out form exhaustion. What is their to apologize for? I’m going to eat breakfast now and enjoy the beautiful morning…care to join me?”

She may have grumbled a bit more, but in the end, we ended up having a nice breakfast, and the topic was dead…other than the occasional, off-hand joke from her about how “You don’t come home anymore,” over the next few days…to which I would either ignore it, change the subject or “agree and amplify” to the point of absurdity.

“Of course dear, don’t you know us pimp daddies have a lot of hoes that take up all our time!”

The old, beta me would have been banished to the couch, subjected to a few days of silent treatment and begging for her forgiveness…only making it worse and worse the more I would grovel and beg.

Whenever there is a marital fight, no man should ever choose to take the couch. That way is the way of the beta. You either sleep in your own goddamned bed and let smoke come out of her ears all night as you snore loudly next to her, or she chooses to take the couch.

******

Yeah, I’m positive you can use “Jerk” game in a LTR – but in my personal case, I use it sparingly.

One time I made her late for a flight to Vegas because we were at a friend’s party. She started SCREAMING at me in the car, because it really was my fault that she missed her flight to go visit her family. She went ballistic. Hysterical. Screaming and crying, because she wasn’t going to get there in time for her Mother’s birthday.

The one and only time I ever screamed back at her. I looked right at her and screamed “SHUT THE FUCK UP! IT’S HAPPENED! YELLING AND SCREAMING IS NOT GOING TO GET YOU ON THAT PLANE! IT’S FUCKING OVER!

That was the one and only time I think I have ever truly scared my wife. She jumped into the back seat of the car when I yelled at her. She told me later that she thought I was going to hit her ’cause I looked so mad. In 12 years, that’s gotta be the only time I ever let my anger out like that. I’m generally very low-key and mellow…I got a long fuse.

It’s very interesting to note after the long, quiet ride home…she actually got turned on by my little show of aggression. heh.

This comment Rihanna-approved.

******

[W]hat you need to focus on, WHATEVER you do, is to maintain frame.

Whether you do nice things for your woman or you act like a jerk, neither will kill her attraction for you in and of itself.

Just make sure that whatever you do, you do not do it in a beta, supplicating manner.

You want to boil down “game” into one phrase, it’s DON’T BE BETA. Don’t put her on the pedestal. Adopt the mentality that you are atop her pedestal, and act accordingly.

Example:

Honey, would you like me to give you a massage? I know you’re sore form your hard day! Let me make you feel better…

That would be a typical offer praised to the high heavens by 99% of all women hearing about such a question. Hearing such a story will elicit “wow, that’s so SWEET! Your so lucky to have such a great husband!”

But in reality…that’s beta.

It’s begging and pleading to please your wife. In essence, you’re asking her permission to do her a favor.

Half the time, she’ll flat out turn the offer down, even if she DOES want a massage in the worst way…because as sore as her muscles are, embedded deep in her id is the contempt for the very idea of a beta putting his hands on her naked body.

Doing the same thing, but in a non-Beta manner – cocky/arrogant style – “Get over here and take your clothes off, I’m tired of hearing you groan about your sore muscles.”

or going for the subtle expression of having higher social status… “Well than you better thank your lucky stars you married an expert masseuse…”

In either case, you’ve done the “nice husband thing.” But the frame you keep to do the “nice” thing is what is truly going to either maintain her attraction for you or kill it.

Doing something beta during a pickup? You can eject, and start all over again on your next approach.

Acting beta when married? You are starting the long, slow march towards divorce court hell…

Creeping marital betatude isn’t an on/off switch; it’s a viral agent that slowly, but inexorably, sickens your wife until she wants to get as far away from you as possible. Usually into the arms of a man who isn’t infected. And with half your money. So if you’re gonna get married (and don’t say I didn’t warn you), you had better have a handle on women’s psychological natures. And a good pre-nup.

******

I had no clue how badly I was failing shit tests, and why I was always getting into passive-aggressive conflicts. I thought shit tests were logical inquiries based on linear thinking.

Upon reading the Agree & Amplify approach to shit tests, now-defunct PUA blog “The Reality Method,” I thought long and hard about how many times I had encountered such tests and failed them miserably.

The first time I tried A&A, when she asked me if I had a mistress, and I answered that no, I had 4 of them, and I was getting worn out trying to keep them all plus herself satisfied. I was holding my breath trying to see what her reaction would be….she giggled and said “you’re so delusional!” To which I than A&A again…”Damn straight, how else do you think I’ve stayed married to you all these years?” The conversation turned into playful teasing, ending with me spanking her ass and starting to playfully roughhouse.

Inside, I felt like I had just discovered the holy grail. I spent YEARS in the “What do you mean you think I have a mistress? Why would you think that? You know you’re the only women for me!”

The next time I got another shit test from her, I was more than ready for it:

“Do I look fat in this dress?”

The shit test is really in effect, beta entrapment.

The absurdity of the shit test is that women aren’t consciously aware they are doing them. Which makes them all the more dangerous.

******

– When women get together, especially in mixed company, they will often speak of their men as if they were little children. Sometimes our friends will say things to my wife like “he better behave or you’re gonna ground him!” or “he better watch out or he’s gonna get in trouble with you” or some sort variation of this theme that assumes she’s the authority and you answer to her.

Whenever I encounter that, I never let that commentary stand unchallenged. I respond, in a cocky/funny manner – ‘yeah right, she better watch out or I’LL be the one doing the grounding!” To which my wife will usually sass back, to which I’ll than turn it into a bit of sexual innuendo – “…not only will I ground you, I’ll give you the spanking you deserve…and we know what happens when I spank you…”  Re-framing the conversation to hint at sexual intimacy quickly changes the tone of the conversation and the theme of relational authority gets forgotten by the other women pretty quickly. They typically respond to that sort of thing with “Ew…that’s TMI! Keep that stuff to yourselves!” or “Get a room you two!” Than everyone will laugh, and you can then change the subject to one of your choosing.

One of the biggest sources of discontent in a LTR can and will come from the influence of your woman’s peers. You have to learn how to display your dominance not just to her, but in front of her peers as well. This sort of behavior actually sparks her attraction.

– Use PDA very sparingly. I never kiss my woman in front of people, and I rarely hold her hand or cuddle or snuggle or any of that other intimacy behaviors in front of other people…even good friends we are absolutely comfortable with. When you do something, like grabbing her and making her sit on your lap when you’re at a party, she will really appreciate your gesture of affection and amp her attraction for you…but only if you rarely give her the gift of PDA. I just did that the other night at a party. When I drew her to my lap, she gave me those eyes…the same eyes she gave me when we first started dating 14 years ago. My public display of affection that night turned into a very private display by her later on that night…

Same goes for things like flowers, candy and other so-called “romantic” little gifts that often are what society says are the correct ways for men to show their women they love them. While in the new, courting phase, it won’t backfire on you if you give them frequently…constantly buying her flowers, teddy bears, candy etc. will lose it’s value for inspiring her attraction once you are in a LTR.

– The most important LTR advice I think I can add, is this: if and when you know you did wrong, that she does in fact deserve an apology, you MUST learn to apologize with sincerity without projecting the attitude that you are sorry.

That may sound confusing at first, but what I mean is that while you are apologizing for something, you MUST maintain a state of social dominance. You do not beg or plead for forgiveness. You do not apologize more than once…ever. If you do apologize, you say it once, with a full detailed explanation of why you know you did wrong, that you understand why your behavior/actions upset her, than you say your apology, and then THAT IS IT. Do NOT try and “make it up” in explicit terms. Do not bow down to her demands. If she says “you better get me some flowers for this one,” that’s the one sure guarantee that you are NOT going to give her flowers. 

Don’t even ask for forgiveness. Act as if your apology is all there is to say about it, you can forgive me or not.

That last point was the hardest one for me to learn at first. I cannot tell you how different it is now when we have a fight, and I consciously maintain the frame of not becoming a supplicant begging for her forgiveness.

Our arguments can be white hot and aggressive, but if I maintain my dominant mentality, these conflicts end quickly and almost always result in the best kind of LTR sex…”makeup” sex.

I used to think that hot makeup sex was a myth. [Editor: I think it’s more accurate to call it “after-fight sex” since it’s the fighting, not the making up, that coaxes gina tingles.] Now I know the truth – makeup sex only happens if your wife respects you, and lusts you for your dominance. Even if you’re wrong, and you apologized and admitted you were wrong…if you do it right and maintain your dominant status, her anger will eventually fade, but her attraction will increase. Think of fighting and arguing with your woman as the ultimate LTR shit test.

If you are begging, simpering, cowed beta that always begs for forgiveness and pleads with her to not get mad at you or to just “forget it,” the tension will eventually blow over…but her subconscious satisfaction with your beta demeanor will kill any chance of that hot makeup sex, and start to build up in her and affect all other areas of your relationship.

When in doubt, better to err on the side of too much asshole than too little asshole. Or: If you can’t learn the art of apologizing like an alpha, resort to Plan B: Deny, deny, deny. And then accuse her of being a distrustful bitch.

******

When I first started changing my behavior, I had to consciously think of everything I said and did. It was difficult at first.

But the more you consciously do these things, and the more you see how it works positively in your relationship, the easier it gets.

When I first began “gaming” her, I was still afraid of her emotional state…I found game a means of not bringing out her anger or disappointment.

Now, however, I’ve truly developed the mindset of having NO fear of my woman’s emotional state.

While I don’t disagree at all with Epoxytocin’s statement:

“If you handle it correctly, it shouldn’t “start an argument”.

My addendum to that is….

So what if it does start an argument? Are you afraid to argue with her? Why are you afraid of her emotional state?

Once I realized this mindset, and internalized it, everything started to become second nature.

As a beta-ized husband, I lived in constant fear of upsetting her…fear of her dissaproval…fear of her tears. I used to think of lies to tell her about things that were not even wrong, just to try and avoid making her mad with me.
This was when we were at our worst.

At the beach, back in the “beta” days:

HER: “I see you looking at that chic in the G-string!”

ME: “I was not! Honestly honey, I only have eyes for you!”

We both know I was lying…and she would get upset, and not speak to me and we’d end up getting into an argument that ruined the entire day. Ironic isn’t it…by lying to her to try and avoid conflict, I actually made it much worse.

Now?

HER: “I see you looking at her!”

ME: “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

Well played, Dave from Hawaii, well played.

Posted in Game, Relationships | 719 Comments »

A Test Of Your Game: The Judging

Sep 27th, 2011 by

It’s time to revisit the last “Test of Your Game” and see how the commenters responded to the challenge. How would you handle an outdoor pickup attempt under the gaze of a beautiful setting sun over the ocean, briefly interrupted by a potential cockblock?

Anonymous wrote:

FIRST!!!!! :))))

I like the assumed sale. But the excitability sounds too eager.

Grade: E for effort

The G Manifesto wrote:

“The Pacific sun glared off the sand”

Being that you are on The Wessyde, spark up a Chronic jay and say:

“Stick around for a while, you don’t want to miss the sunset. It is going to be a “green flash”.

To which she will respond:

“What is a “green flash?”

Maneuver as usual from there. Final destination: your bedroom.

An excellent segue, if she isn’t a local. Actually, this is a decent topic even if she knows what you’re talking about. If she says “I’ve seen it already”, you could say “Yeah, but not with my color commentary.”

Grade: B+

DiamondEyes wrote:

“Does David know you try to pick up strange men at the beach?”

whatever she says, cut her off with –

“Your friend is kind of cute.”

There is no need to mention David at all. That’s taking the focus off you and putting it on some other dude. We don’t know if David is a BF, an ex, a herbly friend, a brother, a roommate or none of the above. Plus, this abrupt conversational change doesn’t flow well from her last words to you as she was packing to go. As for the driving arrangements hinted at by the girl friend, well, it could be a girls’ night out, so no boyfriend presence required. Otherwise, I like the flirty nature and the disqualification of this segue, and a girl who was feeling you might pick up and run with this.

Grade: Gentleman’s C

Miley Cyrax wrote:

Hesitate like a deer in the headlights, until the sight of her walking away spurs you into action. Yell “wait!,” while getting up to chase after her, before tripping over your beach chair and falling on your face.

She turns around.

Trying to DHV as you pick yourself up (flexing the triceps as you push yourself off the ground), you sheepishly ask “has anyone told you that you have a C-shaped smile?”

Neil Strauss wept.

Grade: A+ for slapstick humor

E wrote:

“How long have you and her been dating?”, completely straight faced.

Assuming she’s not actually dating that girl, she’ll probably start qualifying. If she is dating that girl, you can ask if they’ve ever shared a man.

Man, this is an ingenious neg/disqualification. But for it to work you have to say it with sincere naïveté. Any smirking will convince her you’re a douchebag. This is a line that could function in any situation where a cockblock is present.

Grade: B for balls

Marc wrote:

Flirt with the pale girl, says I. Make magazine girl, who probably already thinks she’s the shit, wonder if you might actually like her friend better. Plus y’know, if you’re in with her group, it’s less awkward to try to get her to peel away.

It’s always advisable to flirt with other girls (an alpha male is always “on”), but if you aren’t ambiguous about your intentions, or you overdo it, she might really think you want her less attractive friend and try to set you two up. But I get that this is a classic disqualification maneuver used on hot babes to make them doubt your attraction for them, and thus to slightly lower their status relative to yours. I’m just not sure that the “I like your friend” red herring tactic won’t backfire as often as it works as intended.

Grade: C-

Anonymous wrote:

A classic close I learned from this blog:

Double middle finger in the face of all. Stunner. Stunner. Stunner.

Walk away to the sound of breaking glass.

Bonus: and whistling the “Battle Hymm of the Republic.”

Double Bonus: steal her wallet. spend her money at the strip club.

Are some of you guys looking to pick up chicks or audition for the new Game movie?

Grade: Hell yeah!

Marx wrote:

As the perceptive charmer different from the rest of the pack, I can smell the moisture tingling her ‘gina. She *wants* to be late; she *wants* to dismiss David; and she *wants* to showcase her sass (and ass).

Response: eradicate that sense of urgency, prolong her stay at the beach, keep teasing, get her to jump in the water, and take the rest from there.

Me: “So you came to the beach to read a magazine? Come on… you’re more fun than that.”

Magazine girl: “No, I was tanning too. But I gotta go now.”

Me: “Yeah, I noticed the tan lines. Seriously, what’s the urgency for? Beautiful day, beautiful sand, beautiful sharks.”

M-G: “I gotta get ready for that dinner.”

Me: “Do you also have trouble telling time? You have hours before dinner. Come on. Do you know how to swim?”

M-G: “Yes.”

Me: “I don’t believe you. Show me.”

M-G: “…..”

**More witty banter to expunge that urge to leave**

Me: “I’m jumping in. Tag along.”

**I grab her gently by the hand and pull her into the water**

Commenter Ben Runkle had a good reply to this commenter’s suggestion, so I’ll just post that:

“I like this because it seems like you’re going for the same day lay, by keeping her around and moving to another spot (the water). That said, I feel like this would work better at night, after she’s already out, maybe at a bar on the beach. The thing that sucks about day game is it’s a lot harder to isolate (without coming off as creepy or pushy) due to the fact that the girl may just have a legitimate excuse for leaving. other than timing, this is solid.”

Yup, day game is a different beast than night game.

Grade: B

(Another) Anonymous wrote:

“Well, I’ve gotta go. It was nice talking about invisible sharks with you.”

This is a shit test. Agree & amplify, and get her contact info with a single retort, with a simple, efficient phrase:

“Yeah, we should do it again sometime, over drinks.”

Clean and clear and relevant to her departing salvo. Remember, MagGirl is getting up to leave. There just isn’t time or context for continuing along a conversational path that requires a lot of flirty banter. A lot of commenters wanted to press on with the shark theme, but that would sound forced. One, you’re trying to pump life into an overworked subject matter, and two, you’re forcing her to banter when she’s given the unspoken signal that a change in topic is appropriate.

Grade: B (Not the best game, but doesn’t pussyfoot around, either.)

John Ryder wrote:

“Well hold it now, I’ve got all kinds of dangerous animals to show you… not all of them invisible…”

Sexual innuendo always comes across better on paper or in the movies than it does in real life.

Grade: D for dadgam horndog!

Maya wrote:

my piece of advice.

Ignore her shit test, don’t say anything, just look at her and make a smirk. When, in the next second, she’s about to go, I’d say “Do take the cold shower at your friend’s place” (or something like that, I can’t really make lines in English, but the important fact is that she’s just met a super hot alpha guy and she needs to cool down)
Her: “Why?”
You: “You’ll cool down.”
Her: “I don’t need to … I’m not upset at all”
You: “Try it. You’ll feel the difference”
Her: “I think you’re the one who should take a cold shower, you’re seeing the sharks where there are none … this is worrisome”
Now you can change the subject of the conversation abruptly again.

It’s always interesting to hear a girl’s perspective on pickup, if only to learn what not to do. Occasionally, though, a girl’s advice isn’t horrible. This example is a little overwrought, but the catch-her-off-guard line of “Yeah, you’d probably want to take that cold shower” is pretty good if you wanted to go direct and assume that she’s into you. A risky gambit, to be sure.

Grade: Lady’s B- (so conscientious, so workmanlike, but where’s the genius?)

Killer Instinct wrote:

This is an interesting case, and the PUA is presented essentially with two sets of options: disqualification or qualification. The first decision that needs to be made is which direction to go in. Given the fact that the girl is quite hot (8-9?) and that up to that point she is relatively uninterested, disqualification tactics are the best bet. Add the fact that she is ready to leave, disqualification presents a kind of higher-risk, higher-reward method: if it works, instant attraction can be triggered. So, how to go about disqualifying? Neg can work, but needs to be very calibrated—not too strong as to piss her off, and not to soft as to prevent attraction. My tactic would be something like this:
“hey, before you go, any chance you can introduce me to your cute friend?”

This is a good middle ground that is very likely to get a response, put her in a qualifying frame, and lay the foundational seeds of attraction.

Traditional game theory does support Killer Instinct’s advice to pursue a disqualification strategy. The success of this technique hinges on, as KI mentioned, the hotness of the target and her interest level. She was hot, but how interested was she? I got the sense there was incipient attraction because she didn’t try to escape our conversation before her pale friend showed up. There was momentum. Would a qualifying number close work better? Maybe it comes down to personal preference; a lower-risk but low-backfire rate method could appeal more to guys who style themselves aloof seducers.

Grade: B+

YaReally wrote:

Jesus, it’s like Game circa 2004 in here.

1. Why did she come sit down in the first place if she were only going to stay 5-10 minutes?

Because she wants his cock. She sits by him but won’t open him because she’s a hot alpha chick and she’s giving him a chance to have the balls to open her.

2. The friend leaves, and then slightly later, magazinegirl goes to leave. If she were going to leave her stuff at her friend’s apt, wouldn’t she have left with the friend?

Because she wants his cock. She stayed behind so he could at the least grab her number.

3. Who would this David be that Maggirl would 1) see him before going to her friend’s house but 2) not leave her stuff there and 3) not invite him along to dinner?

Who the fuck cares who David is? Maggirl clearly doesn’t. He’s the guy that’s totally irrelevant. Her friend tried to toss a “remember your boyfriend” cockblock in to fuck with him but Maggirl herself blew it off. Because she wants his cock.

4. The “don’t wait up if I’m late” is a little strange since Maggirl doesn’t know where the dinner is going to be. You would think she would ask her friend where if only out of politeness so that she could have said, “ok, and I’ll try to catch up with you there if I’m late” or something like that.

That’s because they were having a girl-code conversation. Cockblock was saying “Here’s your chance to come with me to escape this guy if he’s creepy” and Maggirl was saying “It’s cool, I want this guy’s cock and I’m giving him a chance, go on ahead without me” and Cockblock threw in a last “Just don’t forget about your boyfriend!” because she knows Maggirl does what she wants and all she can do is try to guilt her a bit and make it awkward for the guy.

Anyway, in response to what to do: There’s not enough comfort for a kiss at this point since she’s all alpha and still testing you, but there’s enough for a number for sure, and possibly a small insta-date (she probably won’t blow her friends off entirely, but she’ll give you some time to build more comfort with her).

If you want the number, you just tell her “So give me your number and we’ll go shark hunting by moonlight after your dinner.” as you pull out your phone. Text her flirty but not too sexual during her dinner so she’ll meet up without feeling like she’s admitting she wants sex, and escalate in person. David and the cockblock chick might fuck it up though, so an insta-date would be better.

For an insta-date just tell her you’ll walk her to her car so she doesn’t get eaten by the invisible sharks. Once her shit is tossed in the car so she doesn’t have to lug it around and you’ve built a little more comfort, push for the insta-date and make her late for dinner.

Easy peasy.

I like YaReally’s frame (it’s good for your game to assume girls want to interact with you), but just to clarify, there weren’t that many open chairs, so she likely sat where she did out of necessity. Points (2) and (3) are well taken, and honestly ones I hadn’t thought of at the time. There’s a lot going on that’s easy to miss when your brain is revving to get a girl’s contact info with the clock ticking.

Anyhow, YaReally’s analysis and prescription sounds spot on, even in hindsight. (YaReally also has some other comments in that thread you’ll want to check out.) The only quibble I have is walking her to her car to help carry her stuff as part of an insta-date to build comfort. I was reclined in a chair with my feet propped up as she was packing to leave. I imagine it would have looked try-hard for me to get up and offer assistance, unless I offered a plausible excuse for why I had to leave as well. But hey, no guts no glory, right?

Grade: A

***

What I did

MagGirl had begun collecting her stuff and shoving it into a gargantuan canvas bag. She glanced sidelong at me for a second, full of sass and flourish, signifying everything.

She smiled, or maybe smirked. “Well, I’ve gotta go. It was nice talking about invisible sharks with you.”

I hesitated before replying, watching her pack for a full five seconds. It was a hesitation that likely cost me a number close.

Finally words jumped out of my mouth. “Hey, you learn something new every day. Before we’re done…”

My sentence was interrupted when her phone buzzed in her hand. She checked a text message and her perky face drooped sullenly. Did her mom just die in a car accident?

She quickly jerked her head around at me, and muttered “Bye”, taking off in a rush, her sandals clapping loudly along the ground with each rapid stride.

The exigencies of game. It rarely goes as smoothly as you think it will in your imagination. If you aren’t prepared to deal with the possible failure of any one pickup attempt, you aren’t cut out for this game.

Posted in Game | 75 Comments »

Beta Or Herb?

Sep 27th, 2011 by

A running theme on this blog is the frightful sight of herbs and betas performing slow motion self-emasculations. While the herb and the beta are closely related, there are some notable differences between them.

In this post, I defined the herb:

*herb, noun – a schlumpy, nondescript white guy with no fashion sense, chin, or sexual gravitas, who has managed to hook up with a cute chick. Herbs usually wear satchels to nightclubs and button down collar shirts with the Hanes undershirt herb2.jpgpeaking through at the neck. They love anything khaki and are not embarrassed to be seen wearing fanny packs or sandals. A super herb takes it up a notch with white athletic socks and an extra-large t-shirt to hide his man boobs. They have a walk that can be best described as looking like they are carrying a load in their pants. They will annoy you just by being there. The fact that a herb will have usually managed to score a cute yuppie chick will fill you with violent feelings toward him.

You can see another great photo of a herb here. And here. And here is an example of the subspecies hipster herb.

How does a beta differ from a herb? In this post there is a photo of a beta revealing his true nature with an awkwardly placed hand on a cute girl’s shoulder. The biggest difference is that the herb usually has better *conventionally defined* success with women. The herb is not necessarily beta, though he often is. Many herbs in the city can be seen taking long romantic walks with decent looking girlfriends, defying all logic and universal laws. Herbs, therefore, have some preternatural ability to squeak out a semblance of a normal life, despite their shortcomings. Perhaps it is that they are oblivious to their self-defeating behavior, and so attract the type of women for whom dating an oblivious man suits their agenda.

Betas (and omegas), in contrast, struggle to achieve the societally-approved provider chump role to a sexless, ungrateful, Entitled American Princess. They are a more pitiable creature than the herb because their fruitless struggle often results in the stink of desperation trailing them wherever they go. The herb, to his credit, rarely reeks of desperation (until he is dumped), probably owing to the aforementioned obliviousness. Betas are more apt to look like they’re trying too hard, which is why you’ll often see better-dressed betas roaming the streets alone while schleppy herbs shuffle contentedly holding hands with their girlfriends.

In short, betas are the type of guys to spend years with internet porn and video games, while herbs are the type of guys to dutifully push strollers for kids that, unbeknownst to them, aren’t theirs. In the end, though, both betas and herbs wind up fulfilling their role as soulsucked providers to harridan wives, ensuring that the cogs of society remain greased with the sweat of their brows and the tithe of their taxes.

A few more differences between betas and herbs:

beta – dog
herb – dog in a stroller
beta – worries that wife is cheating on him
herb – has no idea wife is cheating on him
beta – wants to be alpha
herb – has no concept of the better life
beta – envious of men with hotter girfriends
herb – chastises himself for admiring classic beauty of older susan sarandon
beta – resigned
herb – compliant
beta – stymied sex drive
herb – borderline androgynous
beta – brain loaded with lies
herb – pants loaded

Reader Carol (a self-described Amazon alpha female) sent me a pic of what she termed a “beta boy”, shopping in Chicago with his girlfriend.

She wrote this about the pic:

My sister is an avid reader of your blog and she introduced me to it.  I check it out from time to time.

I see Beta Boys all over the city of Chicago. Since I got my new iphone…it only makes sense to try and snap pics of these betas. Unfortunately the iphone does not zoom.  But I’m working on this. [ed: if you’re a beta or herb, now you have more to worry about — chicks taking your photo for mockery on this blog.]

Check out this beta cubs fan wearing his girlfriend’s purse.  I had to do a freaking triple take to be sure he was not gay. No, he was wearing her purse. Following her all around the store as she flipped through racks of clothes. Mind you, this was post Cubs game…so they were probably drunk as well.

Jesus. I would never ask a man to hold my purse.  Let alone a sparkly shining number that announces to everyone your man is carrying your purse.

Yeah, this is pretty bad. For this man’s sake, let’s hope drunkenness was his excuse. It’s not even OK to hold your woman’s purse for a second so she can grab at something (let it drop to the floor or put it on a shelf if she tries to shove her purse in your hands); it’s leagues worse to take her purse and then wear it around like it’s your own, while following her like a puppy dog as she rifles through racks of discount panties. This guy looks very comfortable wearing her purse slung over his shoulder like that, as if he’s done it before.

I would classify this guy as a herb if he sees nothing wrong with this picture. Otherwise, he’s a garden variety beta asking “how high” when his girlfriend tells him to jump.

Posted in Beta, Tool Time | 377 Comments »

Why Chicks Dig Egotistic Men, &c.

Sep 27th, 2011 by

You can judge who’s nice and who’s a dick simply by looking at them. We humans have tells, and some of those tells are outside of our conscious control, like the shape of our faces. Other tells, such as smiles, are difficult to fake convincingly without willful effort.

Further analyses of Oda et al.’s data show that the key to detecting altruists is genuine smile, which is under involuntary control and is therefore difficult to fake. Altruists genuinely smile more frequently than egoists during natural conversations.

And this is where game comes in. We all know by now, thanks in part to the illumination provided by this blog, that women are sexually attracted to men who are self-centered egotists; in layman’s nomenclature: assholes, dicks, douchebags, pricks and masters of the universe. The kinds of men women swoon for possess the “dark triad” of personality traits: narcissism, psychopathy and Machiavellianism. It stands to reason that women would be drawn to egoists, and that, at least according to the science, one way in which a man feeds the perception that he is an egoist is by smiling less frequently than niceguys would smile during natural conversations. Which leads to…

Maxim #39: Stop smiling so much! Girls will think you’re ingratiating. Girls prefer men they can ingratiate themselves to.

So you have another weapon to add to your arsenal of seduction. Work on suppressing the smile instinct when you talk to a girl. Be especially wary when she flatters you or flirts with you; that’s when you’ll be under the least amount of voluntary control over your smiling reflex. A smile should be tamed to a barely perceptible upturned mouth corner, and limited in its dispensation so as to maximize the effect it has when it is deployed.

Note for the recently lobotomized: During the non-ovulatory phase of their cycle, women do feel some attraction for altruistic, beta providers. It should go without saying that the best seducers balance the asshole with the altruist. Within that balance is the key to unlocking a fountain of women’s love.

***

Women remember your words better if you speak them in a deep voice.

[T]he authors found that women had a strong preference for the low pitch male voice and remembered objects more accurately when they have been introduced by the deep male voice.

Smith concludes: “Our findings demonstrate that women’s memory is enhanced with lower pitch male voices, compared with the less attractive raised pitch male voices. Our two experiments indicate for the first time that signals from the opposite-sex that are important for mate choice also affect the accuracy of women’s memory.”

This confirms a lesser known game concept that men who speak slowly and deliberately are more attractive to women. When you speak slowly, your voice pitch lowers, which raises your attractiveness. Try it sometime. If you want a girl to remember something you consider helpful to your goal of getting her to sex, be sure to deliberately lower your voice when you say it.

***

I was right about cutters. They do it to because it distracts them from their worries and alleviates stress and depression.

The majority of people involved in self-injury do it to deal with anxiety or emotional pain, Adler said. It “self-soothes” and gives people a sense of control. And it helps many people get over a rough patch in their lives.

I contend that cutters are probably the fastest lays you will encounter. If you catch sight of the telltale stigmata, push for a same night lay.

***

File under: No duh! A lack of a father in the home is bad for children’s future prospects.

Despite the widespread assumption that paternal investment is substantial in our species, previous studies have shown mixed results in relation to the impact of fathers on both offspring survival and reproductive outcomes. Using data from a large representative sample of British men, we tested whether father absence is associated with the timing of reproduction-related events among boys, while controlling for various cues denoting early childhood adversity. We further tested whether the loss of the father at different childhood stages matters, so as to assess whether early life is the most important period or if effects can be seen during later childhood. The results show that father absence before age seven is associated with early reproduction, while father absence between ages 11 and 16 only is associated with delayed voice-breaking (a proxy for puberty), even after adjusting for other factors denoting childhood adversity. We conclude that fathers do exert an influence on male reproductive outcomes, independently of other childhood adversities and that these effects are sensitive to the timing of father absence.

You kind of have to read between the lines in this study to get to the meat of the issue: if you like living in a prosperous, civilized nation, you want boys to reach sexual maturity later in life, as such late bloomers are a sign that more parental investment into learning and developing is taking place. K-selection strategy, in other words. If you want to live in a shithole, you can’t go wrong in a place where boys are sprouting pube grass and wolf whistling by age 9. The scourge of single momhood in the USA and other Western nations is an early warning sign that our once great nations are headed down the path of shitholeitude.

***

If you want a quick and effortless path to sex, you should focus on gaming girls when they are alone and away from their peers.

Peer pressure? It’s hardwired into our brains.

A new USC study explains why people take stupid chances when all of their friends are watching that they would never take by themselves. According to the study, the human brain places more value on winning in a social setting than it does on winning when you’re alone. […]

The researchers found that the striatum, a part of the brain associated with rewards, showed higher activity when a participant beat a peer in the lottery, as opposed to when the participant won while alone. The medial prefrontal cortex, a part of the brain associated with social reasoning, was more activated as well. Those participants who won in a social setting also tended to engage in more risky and competitive behavior in subsequent lotteries.

“These findings suggest that the brain is equipped with the ability to detect and encode social signals, make social signals salient, and then, use these signals to optimize future behavior,” Coricelli said.

As Coricelli explained, in private environments, losing can more easily be life-threatening. With no social support network in place, a bad gamble can spell doom.

In group environments, on the other hand, rewards tend to be winner-takes-all. Nowhere is this more clear than in sexual competition, where — to borrow a phrase from racing legend Dale Earnhardt, Sr. — second place is just first loser.

What does this have to do with women and ease of sex? Well, peer pressure acts on adult women too, (it’s not just a teen skaterboi phenomenon), and is particularly relevant when the woman is surrounded by her clucking hens in a mixed group environment where men are hitting on her. Taking risks to impress friends and potential mates manifests differently in men than it does in women. A man will engage in derring-do in front of a crowd to boost his status; a woman will look good to try to capture the interest of an alpha male to boost her social status.

A woman is going to feel more pressure to snag the top dog when her friends are watching, so she will have a bigger bitch shield (to more effectively screen out the betas) than she would if she were sitting alone when you approached her. Ergo, you probably have an easier path to sex if you game her when there are none of her peers around. And this tends to confirm my real life experience. Women are especially keen to avoid the slut label when friends are watching.

But I can imagine some readers reaching a contrary conclusion (and there are enough personal examples to support an opposing conclusion). A woman alone risks more if she winds up sleeping with a cad; as the study mentioned, she has no support network to ameliorate any bad decision she might make. You might, therefore, have a better shot at sex if you can successfully capitalize on her genetically wired need for social approval by instilling the fear of loss in her through jealously plotlines; for example, by disqualifying her with negs while you flirt with her friends.

The “woman alone” vs “woman in group” theory needs some more fleshing out by field testers and theorists alike. My take is this: Women alone are better same night lay prospects, especially if you’re strong in the comfort stage, but women in groups offer more opportunity (via social dynamic pathways) to raise your value and build attraction in the early stages of pickup.

And if you keep getting blown out by cockblocks, well, a woman by herself won’t have that problem. Which brings us to day game…

but that is a topic for another time.

Posted in Biomechanics is God, Game, Ugly Truths | 124 Comments »

Predicting A Girl’s Infidelity

Sep 27th, 2011 by

A reader emails:

As a rule, when the supply of eligible men goes down, female sluttiness goes up. If a girl will only date guys [who are] soccer players 6-4 or taller, then she’ll get desperate around these men moreso than a girl without this “limiting factor”. If a girl comes across 1 eligible guy a month, vs 10 eligible guys a day, then that 1 eligible guy has massive hand, and will score even if he has negative game.

The short-term dating limiting factors could be, but not limited to:

1. age
2. looks
3. race / hair color / eye color
4. height / build
5. income / class
6. musical talent
7. cultural tastes / fashion
8. social proof / notch count
9. game / humor / confidence

I know girls that sleep around, often sober, but only with guys within narrow parameters. They often exclude known cads and alpha males in the group to focus on a narrower, but not necessarily superior, sub-set of alpha males.

I propose finding short-term relationships among women that date within narrow parameters and long-term relationships with women that date all over the map.

That’s counter-intuitive.

If you qualify based on a limiting factor it seems like the logical basis for a long term relationship, but she’ll go just as ga-ga over another guy that meets this same limiting factor. If you are lucky she’ll come across this guy when your game is tight, and not on a beta downswing.

A girl that’s less discriminating is less likely to come across a man that sweeps her off her feet, and you into divorce court.

What this reader is hinting about is known as The Template, (or, in more poetic language, the Ideal Lover). Every person, man and woman, has a template etched into their brains from birth that, upon the pubertal blossoming, guides them like an invisible genital towards certain types of people who most closely match their ideal. The Template is a force to be reckoned with, because it derives its power from deeply embedded genetic imprinting passed down from generations of ancestors following their own similar templates.

Master seducers beware: once a girl has laid eyes on her ideal man she will swat away the importunings from objectively superior suitors like so many buzzing flies. Not even Jedi game has the force to distract a girl from pursuing with single-minded focus the man of her Template dreams. The good news is that The Template is very rarely fulfilled; out of 1,000 men a woman might meet over many years perhaps one or two of them will press all her buttons. So as a practical matter, The Template is no barricade to free and easy sex for a fly by night womanizer.

The reader makes a good point about the supply of men being limited not just by the numerical sex ratio but also by the self-imposed mate choice limitations of women. A romantically idealistic woman fully under the sway of her Template is a woman with dating hand, because very few men will be able to satisfy her prerequisites for love. Luckily, most women are not so beholden to the prudish pull of their Templates. Usually, women age out of slavish devotion to their templates as reality slowly but inexorably pounds into their heads that their Template in Shining Armor is more real as a fantasy than as an actual man. For examples of girls still enslaved by the dictates of their Templates, stroll through any high school corridor.

This is not to say women (and men) give up on their Templates entirely. We have all experienced that heart-quickening epiphany when the woman of our Templates dances into our vision, and for a moment our self-regard and worries vanish like tears in rain as our brains rev furiously and every nerve in our bodies readies for a shot at conquest. But we shelve the Template most days, figuring that the constant heeding of its call is often a flimsy pretext for rationalizing solitude.

Back to the reader’s premise: sluts sleep around, but only with a select few men who meet their Templates, i.e. within narrow mate criteria parameters. The premise has a kernel of truth, but is incomplete, unless we expand those narrow parameters to include most alpha males. While I have argued before that sluts are not less discriminating than chaste women, they aren’t exactly starry-eyed romantics staring pensively out their bedroom windows at the late summer moon, smug with the knowledge that their virtue remains untrammeled until a superlative cock shows up to rescue her lust from its prison of self-denial. A slut is still a slut, whether she accrues her cock notches with a subset of high status men or with randomly chosen men who just happened to be in the right place at the right time and didn’t fuck it up by saying the wrong thing.

One should remember that the alpha male, by dint of his universal attractiveness, strikes deep limbic notes in women regardless of the proximity of his characteristics to a woman’s Template. There are enough of these interchangeable alpha males on the prowl that a dedicated slut could notch quite a few cocks despite the very narrow parameters she sets for herself.

So what do we make of the reader’s bold contention that “groupie sluts” are worse long-term prospects than “inclusive sluts” because of the potential that a stray man meeting the former’s Template would quickly and easily tempt her to infidelity? Should men who are seeking LTRs drop any women from consideration who express a fascination with, say, pasty-faced activist anarcho-libertarians? Should a man who meets a woman’s template worry that he could be replaced by another, similarly templated man? Live by the template, die by the template?

No. Although I admire the reader’s logical chain of thought leading to his contrarian conclusion, in reality inclusive sluts are no less a risk factor than groupie sluts. A girl who comes across ten eligible men per day may not swoon as uncontrollably as a girl who sees an eligible man once per day, but the fidelity assurance from the lack of swooning is offset by the increase in permissible suitors.

To put it another way, would you rather compete with one (from your woman’s point of view) rare, exceptional man or with ten less rare, do-able men? Statistically, I doubt the groupie slut is any less faithful than the inclusive slut.

Then there is the matter of correlations. A jaded woman with lax standards who has a history of spreading for all taxonomy of penii is going to be a cheating risk no matter how swoon-proof she is. Her atrophied Template is no guarantee of fidelity, but it is a guarantee of a weary, utilitarian outlook on life from whom getting genuine love would be like squeezing blood from a stone. A woman like that simply has fewer hurdles to jump before being comfortable enough to relinquish her hole for plundering.

Conversely, a woman who has only slept with indie band bass players wearing guyliner is no flight risk at all if you happen to possess the emo phenotype yourself. If you don’t, you still have rarity of number on your side. Keep her away from hipster nightclubs and you significantly reduce competition pressure. And you must have done something right to bed her if you didn’t meet her stringent Template. That alone should infuse you with unstoppable confidence. Some of the strongest relationships I’ve known were unintuitive pairings between Template centered women and men who didn’t match their Templates. That is because those men brought something new, and exciting, to the table, which emboldened their women to wriggle free of the straitjacket of their templates.

Posted in Girls, Self-aggrandizement, Sluts | 158 Comments »

Hot Vs Sexy

Sep 27th, 2011 by

Take a look at the very hot Betty Draper (aka January Jones):

She is a raving beauty with a sexual philtrum.

Now take a look at the very sexy Rachel Menken (also a Mad Men character):

Don’t you just want to bang her on a kitchen counter after playing pattycakes with her ass cheeks using a spatula?

If you averaged the ratings of 100 men, there’s little doubt that Betty would score about a point higher on the looks scale than Rachel, and their scores would roughly converge around a 9 for Betty and an 8 for Rachel. (Please spare the readers your personal preference. Averages are what matter in the sexual market.)

Yet, I predict that a majority of men would find Rachel to be “sexier” than Betty. Why is that? What nebulous traits imbue a woman with the alluring glow of sexiness?

I’m sure a man steeped in aesthetic sensibility would craft an enlightening essay full of power adjectives and stirring metaphor as a paean to what constitutes female sexiness, and boy will it sound good on paper. But it won’t mean a goddamned thing. Empty words to flesh out a reality that doesn’t exist except in the glorifier’s head. Which pretty much sums up the whole of modern art, come to think of it.

No, sexiness has little to do with face shape, or eye sparkle, or energy, or chi, or mouth curl, or the way she holds a cigarette. Instead, what sexiness means in the minds of men is a lot more pedestrian. When men say a woman is sexy, they mostly mean she is ATTAINABLE.

The average man looks at a hot woman, and he lusts for her, but he entertains scant possibility that he will be able to bed her. But when that man looks at a perceived sexy woman, he couples with his appreciation a genuine feeling that, given just the right ecological conditions, he could actually seduce that woman and enjoy her sex.

None of this should suggest that sexy women aren’t also good-looking women. Nerds, intelligent but mousy artist types, white knights and feminist apologists for plain janes love the “sexy” label because they value its utility as a loophole and ego massager against the unrelenting and immutable beauty standards of the sexual marketplace. Show me a man who calls an ugly woman ineffably sexy, and I will bet you that he is himself an SMV loser.

Sexy women are never the unattractive (or even marginally attractive) totems to an imaginary equalist dating market that fembots and washed up cougars wish they were. Quite the opposite. While sexy women are often not as hot as genuinely hot women, they aren’t much more than a point lower on the universal looks scale. What primarily distinguishes the sexy woman from the hot woman is that she possesses just enough in the way of physical flaws that she catapults from dreamy but distant object of beauty to alluring but attainable perfumed girl sharing a drink with you.

In other words, you can more easily envision your dick in Rachel’s vagina than in Betty’s vagina, and that makes all the difference in perception.

There are other, relatively minor distinctions that make a sexy girl stand out from a hot girl. Obvious markers would include sluttiness of dress, throat-raspiness of flirting, expertise in lowering the eyelids to half-mast for long periods of time, and mastery of the good-to-go vibe. But before you ugly and plain chicks start practicing your eyelid lowering technique, know that no amount of sexy mimicry will transform your face into one that men want to spermally defile. You still need the looks, and for that you have only your parents, and to a lesser extent your self-discipline to push away from the table, to credit or blame.

There are those rare ultrafeminine creatures who coalesce both ethereal beauty and feral sexiness in one package (before she crossed the Rubenesqueicon):

Posted in Girls, The Pleasure Principle | 148 Comments »

How To Greet Like An Alpha Male

Sep 27th, 2011 by

Posts about alpha body language always elicit titters of snarky gayness from the haters. “Stand contrapposto like an alpha.” “Don’t lean in.” “Face out toward the room.” The closed-minded can’t, or won’t, comprehend that certain actions — even seeming trivialities like the location of one’s feet on the floor — can increase or decrease a man’s attractiveness to women. Their ignorance stems from their refusal to acknowledge the premise that alpha males and beta males not only exist in reality, but that each group shares behaviors and attitudes that define them. People who believe we are all special little snowflakes have a particularly difficult time accepting the fact of our biomechanistic origins and how this translates into universally shared traits and mating behaviors. Few people, especially the religious and the equalists (one and the same, really), like to think we are slave to ancient shadow forces making a mockery of our concept of free will.

Here’s another body adjustment that will boost your alpha appeal to women: When you nonverbally greet people, toss your head up and then down, instead of nodding down then up. Via Delenda est Carthago:

Back in the early 80s when I was a freshman in high school, I noticed that some male students, when they greeted people, would give a little toss of their head.  This “reverse nod” (up, then down) was remarkable because it ran counter to my own habit of nodding (down, then up) to people when I greeted them.  I don’t know how it got to be a habit, but it’s probably what I saw the adults around me do, and adults in movies and TV do, rather than something that somebody told me I was supposed to do.

Because the toss was new, and because the upperclassmen did it, I associated it with being “cool”, and tried to emulate it.  I may have had a dim sense of the biomechanics, but I lacked the analytical tools and vocabulary to appreciate what was at stake.  But as much as I practiced the toss in front of a mirror, I almost never remembered to deploy it in an actual social situation, and eventually I gave up.

As I have moved from youth to adulthood, I have observed others using the toss with diminishing frequency, although this could be me just not paying attention anymore.  But it’s easy to see how the study cited above maps onto the implications of the head toss.

The “reverse nod” does map onto the research posted at this blog recently about women preferring to look up at men. When you start your nod on an upward trajectory, instead of in the downward direction that most people nod, you are mimicking that masculine backwards facial tilt which brings women such delight.

Try the reverse nod now. Nod up then down. Now try the usual way. Nod down then up. You don’t have to be nodding at anyone. This little experiment will work even if you are alone. What did you feel deep down in the pit of your animal soul? I guarantee that most of you men reading this felt “more alpha” doing the reverse nod. It was a nebulous, ill-formed feeling, but a real feeling nonetheless.

When you feel the alpha in you, you know that girls are noticing the alpha in you. A small adjustment in a trivial thing like nodding can redound to your attractiveness in bigger ways. To be sure, a nod will not get you laid. But you start adding up all these little changes intended to emphasize alpha male characteristics, and suddenly you’re cooking with gas.

Posted in Alpha, Biomechanics is God, Game | 117 Comments »

She’s A Superflirt

Sep 26th, 2011 by

“Yo man, let’s go next door.”

“Why? It’s good here. And the bathroom is only ten feet away. Very convenient.”

“There’s a new club next door. It caters to the international crowd. Last time I was there it was filled with Russian women. And I know how you are about Russians.”

“How is it I haven’t heard of this magical land before?”

“You’re out of the loop. Time to pack up and move to the burbs.”

We left to check out club eurotrash. It was as advertised; hot foreign-looking women everywhere. I heard three different languages spoken as soon as I walked in the door, two vaguely Slavic and one Spanish. My buddy and I sat at a two seater table near the bar. The bartenders were women. The only men working here were the DJ and doorman.

We had barely settled in when a pretty blonde flitted up to us, smiling broadly. She had a delicate feminine jaw and chin, and high cheekbones. Very slender with nice sized tits. She was a hard 8.5. Later I would discover she was American, but spoke with a funny generic euro accent that she said she picked up from all her foreign friends.

She put her hand on my knee. “You’re cute. Where you guys from?”

Before I could answer she continued. She craned her head slightly upward as she spoke.

“Let’s dance! Come on, get up! It’s my birthday this week.” (Are girls now celebrating week-long birthdays? Isn’t there enough female entitlement?) She had grabbed both my hands and was guiding me up off my seat, her hips in a perpetual wriggle.

I knew this type well. The superflirt. Not drunk, but buzzed. Exraverted. Superficially confident. Used to getting her way with men. Weaponized femininity. A classic eternal ingenue. Likely had a boyfriend somewhere else and a couple of mother hens in attendance to supervise her.

The superflirt’s frame is all-powerful. Few men can resist getting sucked into it. But resist you must. I had three choices before me.

  1. Brush her off.
  2. Refuse to dance but attempt to get her to join us in conversation.
  3. Dance with her.

Number one is fine if you want her to leave. But don’t expect to pull a superflirt out of her euphoric frame with aloofness and indifference. She’ll just waltz to the next guy willing to entertain her machinations.

Number two is a battle of the frames. Can you convince a hyper happy chick to focus on you for more than a second? All her energy is pulling her onto the dance floor, into the embrace of an envious or horny audience. You have no value to her other than your looks, and that’s weak sauce to a cute girl. She has approached you, thus stripping you of the momentum and careful planning of a male-initiated approach, and she has thrown out a hoop for you to jump through which is rigged to ensure failure. You jump, you lower your value. You refuse to jump, you look like a stick in the mud.

Number three is jumping through the hoop, but with an eye on the long game. That’s what I did.

I got up and we all danced languidly around the bar, her leading the way. (I had tried to maneuver myself in front but obstacles prevented a smooth transition.) She introduced me and my buddy to her two friends, a sausage-shaped older, short Latina and a tall, big-boobed, meaty girl. The mother hens. I tried to preemptively neutralize any future mother hennery by asking the tall girl if she was responsible for babysitting Superflirt while she had all the fun.

“No way. She can take care of herself.”

Bullseye.

I danced with Superflirt on and off for fifteen minutes. Every few seconds she would saunter away to harass the DJ, dance on the bar, or drink a free shot, courtesy of the gawking older men gathering around us. She would return and put her hands on my stomach, exclaiming with delight how hard it was, or she would tickle me. A few times she leaned in and rested her cheek on my cheek, whispering in my ear. She smelled like concentrated estrogen. Then she would recoil in mock indignation, and, without my prompting, announce she had a boyfriend.

“I have a boyfriend, just to let you know. No, really, I have a boyfriend.”

I’ll admit I was enjoying the spectacle, regardless if it led anywhere or not. Of course, I would do my best to lead it somewhere, but the superflirt is normally quarry best left to shot-buying chumps who can convince themselves they’re going home happy having danced with a cute chick for a minute.

“That’s great. So does my girlfriend.”

She cocked her head and stared at me quizzically, then giggled. “I reeeeeeeally have a boyfriend. I’m supposed to go to his place later.”

I ignored her. She hopped up on the bar again. I figured at this point she was teetering close to the edge of outright drunkenness, so if I was to make a bold move, I had to execute quickly.

There are two ways to handle a superflirt. One, nuclear negs followed by a bold sexual move that shocks her out of her attention whore programming. Two, jealousy plotlines that flip the script so she is chasing you. I wanted to do the first option, but she had stopped clambering into my lap in between dance moves. All I could accomplish was a few negs.

“Hey, stop tickling me. Do I look like a piece of meat?”

“Yes!”

“Sexual harassment! Is this how you hit on men? It’s not working.”

She twirled. I tried to keep her focused.

“How would you like it if I did that to you?” I tickled her middle and she shrieked joyously like a little girl so loudly I though my ears would bleed.

This was going nowhere. She was in full-on attention whore mode. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a leggy woman of exquisite beauty wearing a miniskirt that climbed past mid-thigh. Her makeup was expertly applied, and she didn’t smile. An expression of disdain swept across her purse-lipped face.

Had to be Russian.

I sidled closer to her table where she was standing with a couple girls and some men, and listened in; yep, Russians. She glanced in my direction. I realized why. Preselection. She had front row seats to me getting pawed by Superflirt. A man can go up as much as five points simply by being seen in the company of a hot babe.

This was one last opportunity to break Superflirt’s frame. If I could be seen by her chatting up the Russian, she might reengage and be open to a proper seduction. All her earlier boyfriend chatter suggested to me she was subconsciously looking for an excuse to step out with a new man. And nothing works like jealousy on an eternal ingenue. She has to feel a competitive threat from equally pretty women.

Unfortunately, this story does not have a good ending. I opened the Russian, asking her why she wasn’t embarrassing herself like the other girls by dancing on the bar, because it’s what all American women do. As we talked I would steal a glance at Superflirt to see if she was watching us, but she had fallen on her ass next to a bar stool, drunk as sin, and one shot away from puking. Three men rushed in to help her up. I didn’t budge. When I turned back to continue my conversation with the Russian, the doorman was saying something to her and she clopped in three inch high heels toward the door to make a phone call outside.

It was near closing time. Superflirt stumbled past me on the way to the door. She stopped to drape her arms over my shoulders, and I told her to give me her number. It was a last ditch effort that I knew had a low chance of succeeding. She was barely cognizant. But she stuck to her boyfriend script.

“Can’t. No I really can’t. I’m going to my boyfriend’s place right now! He lives nearby.”

Admiring her tight ass and perfect 0.7 waist-hip ratio as she wobbled out into the street, I figured her boyfriend either had very strong pimp hand to feel comfortable letting her get drunk by herself in his own hood, or they were heading for a dramatic breakup within the month. What a fucking headache it is dating a superflirt. Best way to keep them in line is to date two or more of them at the same time.

Posted in Game, Girls, Self-aggrandizement, The Big City Life | 182 Comments »

The Feminization Of The Western White Male

Sep 26th, 2011 by

This is a trend that is bursting with fruit flavor.

exhibit-a1

exhibit-b

exhibit-c

mysteryfrilly1

Dandies have a long and storied history in the Western cultural canon, so these types of androgynous men are nothing new. But the sheer breadth and rapidity of the dandyfication of the 21st century urban Western white male, coupled closely with the pickup artist movement and the rise of game, signifies a profound cultural change. A nancyboy revolution is upon us.

Since women are by genetic dictate the choosers of men in the mating market (note: men do some choosing as well. see: lonely fat chicks), men who dandify themselves are simply responding to women’s choices. If you want to know where men are heading, follow the pussy. The interesting question is not why the urban white (and asian) man in his multicultural milieu is sporting long silky coifs and bejeweled bracelets, but why women are rewarding these men with their sex. I leave the answer as an exercise for the readers. As enlightened warrior-poets of the Republic of Roissy you should have a pretty good idea of the hidden forces at work. Hint: No theory about the present day sexual market is complete without acknowledgement of the underestimated impact contraceptives, abortion, female economic empowerment and demographic upheaval have had on Darwinian sexual selection.

As a man who himself has acquired a splash of the dandy’s fashion sense to rave reviews from women, I don’t consider a man a femmed out beta if the NASCAR crowd scoffs. After all, other men are not the ultimate arbiter of what constitutes alphatude; women are. Men are merely proxy agents for judging other men’s alpha cred. But a woman’s open and willing pussy is the judge that matters most. As long as these modern day dandies with their black nail polish, handlebar moustachios and heart-shaped pendants are scoring more tail than your typical herb or aging frat boy swilling Miller Light in front of the TV, they are partaking of alpha privilege.

Not a sermon, just a thought.

Posted in Alpha, Culture, Ridiculousness, Self-aggrandizement, Vanity | 741 Comments »

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