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Guilt Trip Game

For perfectly understandable reasons I won’t elaborate here, I had left an undisclosed location wearing a badly mismatched shirt and pants. No chance to change into something more sexually harassing, I went to an event where a late 20s woman standing near me leaned over to state the obvious.

“You know, your shirt and pants don’t match.”

I deadpanned, “What if I told you I’m color blind?”

Glaring at her with feigned offense and raising my eyebrows in expectation of an apology, she stuttered and mouth hanging open replied, “Oh….what, really?”

I pursed my lips and nodded a little.

Her: “Oh god, I’m sorry…..I didn’t mean, I didn’t know that….”. She landed a hand softly on my forearm while apologizing.

Me, smiling like a filthy prankster, “Ha, no, I’m not color blind, I just can’t coordinate my outfits.”

Her, shimmering and glimmering: “WTF is the matter with you! You had me freaking out over here.”

Me: “I was pretty embarrassed by my clothes once I walked by a mirror, but truth is it was totally worth it for the look on your face. Priceless!”


This is what I call Guilt Trip Game, and it works on women because it’s push-pull amped to eleven. She is disqualified for being offensive (the push) and then pulled back by my cheeky revelation. NW European White women with pathological empathobesity running through their veins are particularly susceptible to Guilt Trip Game, and can be driven to howls of subterranean ecstasy by first provoking their guilt and then allowing them the sweet relief of alleviating their guilt.

(It won’t work on low empathy black women, who will mm-hmm and reply, “If you color blind, get yo’self a woman to dress you.”)

It’s the essence of teasing and pleasing women: don’t chase her, make her chase your approval. Teasing of this nature also subcommunicates to a woman that you don’t mind crossing the line of social respectability (aka predictable betabore droning) to fuck with a girl’s expectations, which cues her to your high mate value because her Inner Vagina will whisper through fluttering limbic labia, “this man has to do well with women to happily risk my huffy displeasure”.

This flirtatious vajnette occurred not too long ago, so hopefully the woman involved won’t stumble across this post and recognize her participation. But I just had to tell it, I loved it so.


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