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When women vent, something they do with alacrity and disinhibition, men of all kinds are frequently and amusingly caught off-guard. It’s a wonder, given the natural urge of women to routinely weep for their lonely souls and their otherworldly problems, why so many men are inept in the art of consoling women.
I’ve seen alpha males tongue-tied off the shoulder of a crying HB. I’ve watched smooth players wither into puling beta males listening to a cute chick quake. All those moments to make her feel special, lost in time… like tingles pre-vow.
Consolation Game is a minor adjunct to the Game oeuvre, but it has outsized importance, mostly because so few men know how to properly execute it. It’s very simple.
SELF-PITYING PRINCESS: oh whoa is me, whoa is me yada yada mada yada yada fada welcome to camp grenada…
THE DEVIL’S PHALLIC AVATAR: I understand.
There ya go. That’s it. “I understand.” No more need be said. Let her smear her make-up all over you and when her aqueduct is about run dry you express your very succinct understanding.
Oh sure, if you want to be creative, you can refract your response through a female narcissism filter.
“It’s right for you to feel bad.”
I swear 99% of the time this strategy (as elementary as it is) will leave you in her higher esteem than before. Why? Because women don’t want answers to their problems; they want wagon circling sympathy feels. And they LOVE LOVE LOVE a man who will step aside and let them have their emotional cleansing once in a while.
Unfortunately, something so simple is lost on the great majority of men, who for some strange reason as a sex are incapable of handling the frailer sex with the unobtrusive, curt collusion that signals to women an experienced man’s navigational facility with their peculiar feminine landscape. Instead, what one often observes is the man frantically trying to “lift up” (hi SJWs!) his inconsolable girl, or worse, trying to solve her issue, only to receive as gratitude her scowl and labia-turtling exasperation.
Eager, excessively earnest gestures of sympathy are NOT SEXY to girls. Don’t be that approval-seeking beta male spinning his tricycle wheels to turn a girl’s frown upside-down. Be the alpha male oak tree (Poon Commandment XV) who, in his girl’s moments of frivolous crisis, shades her from the judgment of the world until she has spent herself and returns to the delight of stroking his mighty trunk.