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Once again, ❤science❤ has entered, stage right, as a supporting cast member of Chateau Heartiste’s magnum opus. Once again, you won’t be led astray if you embrace CH observations as your own. You could say there’s a Heartiste Rule in effect at this happy hurting ground: 80% of keen-eyed CH lessons drawn from field experience are in short order confirmed by empirical rigor. The remaining 20% either await scientific vindication, or are too nuanced to mimic in the laboratory without great difficulty or unethical experimental tactics.

The latest salvo from science supports (right on cue!) the knowledge contained within a Heartistian Horcrux that the sexes perceive looks differently and are, as a result, affected by the physical attractiveness of the opposite sex differently.

In a series of interesting experiments measuring selective attention for beautiful people, it was discovered that,

When we strained our subjects’ attentional capacities, we found exactly what I had suspected several decades before: Men overestimated the number of beautiful women (though their estimates of handsome men were unaffected). Female subjects also overestimated the frequency of gorgeous women in the rapidly presented crowds, but they did not overestimate the frequency of handsome men. The whole body of findings points to a simple conclusion about beautiful women: They capture everyone’s attention and monopolize downstream cognitive processes. The conclusion about handsome men is different: They grab women’s eyes but do not hold their minds; good-looking guys quickly get washed out of the stream of mental processing.

This is in line with what we have been saying here for some time: Women are essentially less viscerally affected by good male looks than men are affected by good female looks. And whatever effect male handsomeness has on women’s senses is dissipated much faster from their mental landscapes than female beauty is expunged from men’s mental landscapes. This beautiful truth has far-reaching implications for practitioners of the crimson arts.

In our first study, [we] asked people to judge an average-looking woman after being exposed to one of two series of other women. Half the participants judged the target woman after seeing a series of unusually beautiful women; the other half judged her after seeing a series of average-looking women. As in the case of exposure to extremes of water temperature, exposure to extremes of physical appearance affected people’s judgments of what was average. As we had predicted, an average-looking woman was judged significantly uglier than normal if the subjects had just been gazing at a series of beauties.

And as game theorists will tell you, a charming man will be judged more attractive than he is if the woman in his company had just been hanging out with a bunch of boring betas.

Subjects in the control group first judged the artistic merit of abstract paintings such as Josef Albers’s Homage to the Square. The men in the experimental group saw centerfolds from Playboy and Penthouse; the women saw handsome naked men from Playgirl. After they had looked at either paintings or centerfolds, we asked our participants to rate their feelings about their current relationship partners. Again, there was a cover story — that psychologists were divided on whether being in a relationship opened people up to new aesthetic experiences or made them less open to novelty. To test which side was right, we told them, we needed to know about the extent to which their reported level of commitment depended on whether they had seen centerfolds.

Once again, the results displayed a curious gender difference:

Men who had viewed the centerfolds rated themselves as less in love with their partners; women’s judgments of their partners were not so easily swayed.

Once again, we see that male looks don’t compel nearly the same aroused urgency from women that female looks compel from men. Or, when women cheat, it’s not usually because they found a handsomer lover; it’s because the man they’re with stopped exciting them with their personalities.

The harmful side effect for guys … is this: Real women … do not look as attractive once the mind has been calibrated to assume the centerfolds are normal. And for guys in relationships, exposure to beautiful photos undermines their feelings about the real flesh-and-blood women with whom their lives are actually intertwined.

No this is the PC interpretation. More precisely, limited options and exclusion from beautiful women calibrates men’s minds to assume “real women” are prettier than they are.

But lest we’re too quick to assume men are the only ones who conform to the worst of their gender’s stereotypes, women didn’t fare much better when the experiment was repeated with power rather than beauty as the variable:

Seeing a series of socially dominant men undermined women’s commitment, just as seeing attractive women had done to men’s.

CARDIAC ARREST goes the feminist and manboob hamsters. Recall a very early post from the Chateau archives:

As I’ve written before, what men like in women is simple. In descending order of importance, here are the female attractiveness traits that men desire in women:

Beauty.
Femininity.
Sexual eagerness.

In descending order of importance, here are the male attractiveness traits that women desire in men:

Psychosocial dominance (game).
High status/fame.
Personality (passion/charisma/humor).
Wealth.
Good looks/height/muscularity.
Cleverness/smarts.
Dependability/reliability.
Sexual prowess.

Men dig beauty.
Chicks dig power.
The rest is commentary.

And what a shitstorm of commentary it has been in the interim! Feminists and bitter beta males both heaving sandbags of rationalizations and wishful thinking and earnest platitudes against the ramparts so that they may bunker down and avoid dealing with these eternal earthy truths about the different sexual natures of men and women.

So what’s a mortal to do [about sensory overload and adaptation]? Are we helpless in the face of our evolved mechanisms, which may lead us astray without our conscious awareness? Not completely. People who understand the dangers of overabundant fats and sugars can control their diets. People who understand the dangers of an overabundant diet of mass-media images can stop gorging on Playboy, People, Sex and the City, or Dancing with the Stars.

Good god, this is some realtalk right here. Just as fatties can keep crap food out of their homes, the loveless and love-hungry can keep porn — the male and female versions of it — out of theirs.

It’s two for one day at Le Chateau, so here’s another recent relevant study that finds partner physical attractiveness is less important as a predictor of women’s marital satisfaction.

Do men value physical attractiveness in a mate more than women? Scientists in numerous disciplines believe that they do, but recent research using speed-dating paradigms suggests that males and females are equally influenced by physical attractiveness when choosing potential mates. Nevertheless, the premise of the current work is that sex differences in the importance of physical attractiveness are most likely to emerge in research on long-term relationships. Accordingly, the current work drew from 4 independent, longitudinal studies to examine sex differences in the implications of partner physical attractiveness for trajectories of marital satisfaction. In all 4 studies, both partners’ physical attractiveness was objectively rated at baseline, and both partners reported their marital satisfaction up to 8 times over the first 4 years of marriage. Whereas husbands were more satisfied at the beginning of the marriage and remained more satisfied over the next 4 years to the extent that they had an attractive wife, wives were no more or less satisfied initially or over the next 4 years to the extent that they had an attractive husband. Most importantly, a direct test indicated that partner physical attractiveness played a larger role in predicting husbands’ satisfaction than predicting wives’ satisfaction. These findings strengthen support for the idea that sex differences in self-reported preferences for physical attractiveness do have implications for long-term relationship outcomes.

Happy wife, happy life? Happy husband, stronger lovin’. Husbands have a responsibility to provide emotional and material support. Wives have a responsibility to provide beauty and sexual support. If either party reneges on their end of the deal — the equivalent of the dull, withdrawn, couch potato husband is the fat, unfeminine, nag wife — then the deal is severed, in practice if not in procedure. This is as decisive an IF-THEN statement as you’ll come across in the realm of human social interaction.

Men, know that your dominance and self-confidence are your passage to bangkunt. Women, know that your youth, beauty and slender hourglass figures are your passage to bangkok. The losers in life will wail and rend their XXXXL muu-muus disclaiming this romantic reality, but after a million terabytes and a billion snarled memes they are still on their knees, receiving a hot load of ostracism and despair from the winners at the party they desperately, secretly yearn to join.

UPDATE

Three for one, baby! Reader Will passes along another study that used MRIs to peer deep into male and female brains to discover the elemental neural processes at work when an attractive member of the opposite sex is in view.

Apologies (not too sorry) for this off-topic. Not sure if CH or anyone else has read this (probably). But it’s *science* that shows that guys are biologically wired to be *motivated* (read: boner) for visual ques (read tits and an ass) moreso than girls. This is an MRI being done on the brain that shows the amygdala is fired moreso in guys than girls when sexyness is visually seen.

This can be interpreted as how guys don’t care so much about status because the blood is rushed to our amygdala based on visual…. Not comparative social relations (such as power). Girls thus have more blood focusing on other parts of there brain such as which guy will give me higher status in terms of my social context.

Quoting the study results,

The emotion control center of the brain, the amygdala, shows significantly higher levels of activation in males viewing sexual visual stimuli than females viewing the same images, according to a Center for Behavioral Neuroscience study led by Emory University psychologists Stephan Hamann and Kim Wallen. The finding, which appears in the April edition of “Nature Neuroscience,” demonstrates how men and women process visual sexual stimuli differently, and it may explain gender variations in reproductive behavior. […]

The fMRI scans revealed significantly higher levels of activation in the amygdala, which controls emotion and motivation, in the brains of the male subjects compared to the females, despite the fact that both males and females expressed similar subjective assessments of their levels of arousal after viewing the images.

Hamann and Wallen had a separate group pre-select the images to ensure they would be equally arousing to both males and females.

“If males and females found the pictures equally arousing, you would assume they would have similar patterns of brain activation,” said Hamann. “But we discovered the male brain seems to process visual sexual cues differently.”

The scientists’ discovery also is consistent with an evolutionary theory that natural selection spurred the development of different sexual behaviors in males and females.

“There is an advantage for males in quickly recognizing and responding to receptive females through visual cues,” explains Hamann. “This allows them to maximize their mating opportunities, which increases their chances for passing on their genes.”

Another CH truth lovingly caressed by SCIENCE. And this is a humdinger of science, because it directly measured brain activation rather than indirectly through surveys or behavioral analysis.

Men are more viscerally aroused by female looks than are women by male looks. Men, therefore, can neither rely on their looks to get and keep women, nor excuse their failure with women based on their looks. Game, aka applied charisma, is about exploiting that soft space between a woman’s subjective assessment of her own arousal and her actual, primal arousal. As always, don’t listen to what women say, watch what they do. And nothing watches as closely as an MRI looking right into her friggin noggin.

[crypto-donation-box]

A survey of 670 North American white collar workers revealed who is the unhappiest (and happiest) of them all.

According to the survey, the happiest workers are:

  • Male
  • 39 years old
  • Married
  • Have a household income between $150,000 and $200,000
  • Hold a senior management position
  • Have one young child at home
  • Have a wife who works part-time

while the unhappiest workers are:

  • Female
  • 42 years old
  • Unmarried
  • Have a household income under $100,000
  • Work in a professional position (i.e., as a doctor or a lawyer).

What we have here… is failure to assimilate to the feminist utopia. Some women you just can’t reach. So you get what we had here these past 60 years, which is the way ugly bitter feminists want it… well, they get it. Careerist gogrrl spinsters who go to sleep and wake every morning with a shiver of doom running down their necks. Unhappy 130IQ cat ladies as far as the eye can see, staining their graduate degrees with hot tears.

I don’t like it any more than you men, but I will leverage it for my personal gain.

Blame flies in all directions, but the most obvious one. The Bitches of Feastdick whine that their feminist droids are unhappy because men aren’t picking up the slack in the domestic sphere. Androgyne, Inc. stockholders say that women worry more about the home life and we need to help them worry less by mandating various stay-at-office motherhood initiatives, like on-site daycare.

They flail and they flog their plush lush lies that protect them from the stone cold truth… the truth that is incontestable and harmonious and rooted in eons of evolutionary blueprint:

Men and women are happier when they abide traditional sex roles.

Reject biology, feel unhappy. It’s that simple. Work within the contours of your sex’s biology, and you will feel like a finely tuned instrument discarding cacophony and alighting upon melodious serenity.

[crypto-donation-box]

Plums Before Prunes

A 59-year-old woman, international speaker and writer (“productive citizen”), laments the icy rejection she received at the hands of a 55-year-old man who felt a surge of natural male biological disgust for her naked wrinkly old lady body.

And so, we planned a weekend together. That’s when things got confusing, unspoken and just-not-quite there. We went to bed in a couple’s way — unclothed and touching — all parts near. Kisses were shared and sleep came in hugs. I attempted more intimacy throughout the weekend and was deterred each time.

On Monday evening over the phone, I asked this man who had shared my bed for three nights running why we had not made love. “Your body is too wrinkly,” he said without a pause. “I have spoiled myself over the years with young woman. I just can’t get excited with you. I love your energy and your laughter. I like your head and your heart. But, I just can’t deal with your body.”

I was stunned. The hurt would come later. I asked him slowly and carefully if he found my body hard to look at. He said yes. “So, this means seeing me naked was troublesome to you?” I asked. He told me he had just looked away. And when the lights were out, he pretended my body was younger — that I was younger. My breath came deep and full as I processed this information. My face blazed as I felt embarrassed and shamed by memories of my easy nakedness with him in days just passed.

We talked for some time more, my head reeling at the content of the conversation. He spoke of special stockings and clothing that would “hide” my years. He blithely told me he loved “little black dresses” and strappy shoes. He said my hair was not long and flowing as he preferred, but that was okay because it was “cool looking.” I felt like a Barbie Doll on acid as I listened to this man. He was totally oblivious to the viciousness of his words.

She thinks this man a sadistic monster, but he was perhaps more honest with her (and with himself) than any man she has known. They aren’t called the ugly truths for nothing.

Men don’t get impotent; women get old. You won’t hear any therapist telling that raw reality to struggling older couples. Be prepared for soul-flaying pain of this nature to become commonplace in post-sanity and post-restricted female sexuality America. Marriage rates are at a historical low and never-married or divorced older women are desperate for romance. They’re in the field when they should be in the home with grandchildren, deluding themselves that the older men who they think by rights are theirs instead are more interested in the younger women with tighter bodies and fresher histocompatibilities. And to make matters worse, more than a few of those younger women love the company of older men.

The sexual market is not equal. It’s not fair. It’s not progressive. And it’s not a rom-com with a happy ending. It is a tearjerker, however.

Compounding the difficulties that older, single women face in the arena of zero-sum mate acquisition is the altered perspective of single older men who are accustomed to dating younger women. When you’ve tasted a morsel of Kobe filet mignon and washed it down with a 2010 Hewitt cabernet, an 80/20 ground beef burger with a tepid Bud Light just isn’t going to get you up in the morning.

Some commenters had a fun time with this lady’s id yelp.

I can relate…there is this woman who is obsessed with me who calls me everyday, she is the nicest woman I ever met,but when I saw her naked I freaked out.

I usually like to keep the lights on but with her I did not want to see, and I tried to think of my ex who had a superb body.

Everything is wrinkly and saggy…it is impossible for me to be passionate about such a woman even though she has the best personality.

Part of me feels sad for her, but I just can not be with her, I have to be passionate about what I see, not only about what us in her heart and her head.

Men are very visual, I am very visual. At some point I had no choice but to tell her I had trouble looking at her naked body.

She is my age but I look 15 years younger while she looks older than her age.

with clothes on she is cute, she even has an hourglass figure, she gets a lot of attention from men but they have no idea what is under her clothes. how everything is very saggy and wrinkly.

sorry if I go on and on, but I am right smack in the middle of a similar situation as the Huffington story..

***

Women gotta understand, God put our eyes right up front…

Personality? Well, okay… but our ears are way back on the head.

***

“I didn’t even want to try to explain the hurt and the horror that he had inflicted upon me. I actually felt sickly sorry for this man as I hung up the phone”

!!!Hamster time!!!!

HE HAD INFLICTED ON HER!

Try servicing a monster and you’ll understand what horror is.

Older women’s best hope is for an epidemic of mass amnesia to strike men and men only. In this way, no single older man crashing the dating market and creating tsunamis for older female hamsters to surf will remember what prime pussy looks and feels like under clothes. Unencumbered by these fond recollections, he can more easily be catechized in the belief of stylishly-clothed but surreptitiously wrinkled hags as the pinnacle of female sexuality… at least for a short while, until his occipital resumes control of his prefrontal and penile.

The whole sordid spectacle reminds me of a dating exploit from a time not yet beyond crystalline recall. I had met a 20-ish blonde in the dusky brick-relief bowels of a drunken after-party. Already buzzing from one drink too many, I began to imagine scenarios… transactions… with her shapely vessel as she spoke of childhood dreams and favorite movie scenes. I made feints toward a same night lay (never a dull moment on the CH sexpress) but she wouldn’t bite, preferring instead to indicate her interest with strong pleas for a follow-up date. “you will call me, right?” “you’ve got my number right there.” SMILE SMILE SMILE “i’ll see you soon!”

Sufficiently sated from recent conquests, I dropped the idea of an effortful seduction whisking her from venue to vainroom before sleepiness took its toll. I agreed to call her, and confessed to myself that the date was happily anticipated. I like blondes. I like 20-ish women. I like them most when they like me in kind.

Two evenings later, we met at a small bistro. She was already there when I arrived, seated indoors under bright light only paces from an outdoor area softly illumined by decorative patio lights. This was her critical mistake. From twenty feet, barely through the restaurant’s entranceway and acutely sober, I saw her heart-swelling silhouette from two nights ago, now unshadowed, had morphed into the splotchy, shattering skin wrap of a woman accelerating to her upper 30s. My smile dropped faster than an unsupported witch’s teat.

I am a master actor when crisis calls, but this disappointment was too great to conceal. She caught the full impact of it and, exacerbated by the contrast of my insanely youthful countenance, stood up from our table seconds after I had introduced myself to calmly but with a hint of croak in her voice cut the date short with a prematurity that must have set land speed records. “if it’s ok with you, we really don’t have to do this. i’m not ready for this. I’m so sorry.” Her entire body downcast and my guilt cresting a harsh wave, I eagerly (but not too eagerly!) accepted her offer.

It’s hard out there for the older woman. Yer ‘umble mareslayer revels in revealing the barbarous clashes that bloody the innersides of our polite vestments, but in real life he’s a bit less callous and handles life’s sad cameos with a softer glove.

[crypto-donation-box]

A particular paradox of the sexual market is one that works in the favor of men. More precisely, men with balls. It’s what I call the “Prime Pussy Paradox”.

Reader Scott explains,

I’m 48 years old, overweight, and out of practice after being married for 20 years. But I’ve still never understood the fear of approaching women. In my younger days, I dated roommates at the same time, a Playboy model, and regularly bagged ladies in the 8-10 range.

Now I have a 24 year old son. I told him when he was a teenager, that the easiest way to get a hot chick to go out with you is to simply ask. Since most guys are too wimpy to approach a 9 or 10, it is actually the girls in the 6-8 range that get hit on the most. In reality, 10′s get hit on less, and are easier to pick up than the less attractive girls in the 6-8 range.

That is the honest truth – believe it or not.

I believe it, because I’ve experienced the same. As have many of my player buddies. That sexy 8 will give you a warmer smile and more feminine charm than that ego-inflated 6 with a chip on her shoulder who’s had to deflect the horny intrusions of a hundred middling beta males who thought that 6 would be easy pickings.

The Prime Pussy Paradox states that the very hottest girls – high 8s, 9s and 10s — get hit on less frequently and by fewer men than do women in the “pump&dumpable” or “cute” range from 4 to 7s, and that this male approach skew psychologically grooms the hotter girls to be more excited when a man does boldly hit on them. The essence of the PPP is that hot girls are often MORE APPROACHABLE than cute or, god forbid, plain girls.

Why is the PPP a valid concept? The intersection of a woman’s self-esteem (modulated by her intrinsic hotness and the male attention she expects to get based on her self-perceived hotness) and a man’s sexually entitled boldness is where love explodes. A handy graph visualizes the phenomenon.

PPP

The black line represents a hot woman with unmodified self-esteem; that is, self-esteem which exists in a sexual market with perfect mate information flow where she gets exactly the amount of attention that her looks should theoretically command.

Naturally, such a world doesn’t exist, because men don’t make a decision to approach based entirely on a woman’s looks. Men also internally calculate their risk of rejection and their own courtship savviness. Which is where the red and green lines fit in. A woman with immoderately high self-esteem (green line) — i.e., a woman who thinks more of her mate value than her looks inform — will be a tough rut to shellac. A man would need to be very bold (and skilled) to hurdle the huge cockblock that is her bloated self-esteem.

A woman with immoderately low self-esteem (red line) — i.e., a woman who thinks less of her mate value that her hotness would conceivably suggest — will be an easier target than presumed, and who won’t require preternatural reserves of boldness to seduce. These women are a dying breed in America, (bloated self-esteems, along with bloated bodies, are the growing female demographic), but they do exist, and happily enough, they exist in surprisingly disproportionate number among the very hottest women whom men imagine are the least likely to have lower-than-expected sexual-esteems.

Like an information bottleneck in the stock market, the PPP is a sexual market vulnerability which can be exploited by fearless men with insider connections. 9s and 10s (and most 8s) don’t get conspicuously hit on as much as 4s, 5s, 6s, and 7s. Consequently, hot girls tend to harbor stirrings of doubt about their SMV. Their egos (and love lives) hunger for proof of validation, and they gorge on the rare direct attentions of bold men who aren’t afraid of or humbled by their beauty.

There are limits to the PPP exploit. Very low SMV men won’t be able to capitalize on it with the same profitability as moderate SMV men. The sweet spot is a man one to three SMV points lower than the hot girl, and who acts with the prerogative of a man with equal (sex-adjusted) SMV to the hot girl. Male 6s and 7s (as ranked along male-specific measurements of attractiveness) who approach with the bold intention of a male 9 can “shock” a female 9 into aroused curiosity.

Now some of you are wondering, “Don’t hot girls get a lot of leers from admiring men?” Sure, but female self-esteem operates as a more complex feedback system than male self-esteem. A female 9 will receive ten times the number of head snaps from men than will a female 7 (it’s exponential), but she’ll also receive ten times FEWER the number of intentional approaches from men than will the female 7. Women register the glances from afar, but the bold approach is so unmistakable in intention that it counts for more as a self-esteem boosting factor.

Hot women, experiencing a relative paucity of men hitting on them compared to that experienced by mediocre-looking women, tend as a result to carry less ego-stroked baggage. They are more grateful, and more interested, when a man dares to pierce their bubble of hotness. To approach such a beauty as she, why this man must truly be worth her company!

[crypto-donation-box]

The Hamster of the Month winner is no contest. It’s the rodents who power the lizard brains of these two Visitors to earth.

The dropping I’m referring to steams in a huge pile right on the cover of their book:

The Alpha Woman Meets Her Match: How Today’s Strong Women can find Love and Happiness without Settling

Never before has such concentrated female hamster delusion been defecated so ignominiously on one spot. Count the spinning wheels and the false assumptions.

1. An alpha woman is designated by her careerist ambition, rather than by her beauty and youth.

zoom zoom!

2. Entitled spinster hags are strong women.

zoom zoom!

3. Men secretly love masculine, careerist, dominating women.

zoom zoom!

4. Ugly careerist hags can find love and happiness without settling for a boring loser with few options.

I'm forty and beautiful!

5. Men’s desire is irrelevant. As long as the strong woman wants love and happiness with an alpha male, she’ll get love and happiness with an alpha male.

animals-pictes-hams-cute-at-bar (1)

Maxim #105: Frequency and absurdity of female delusions about their romantic worth are directly proportional to real world evidence of their romantic worthlessness.

SVlLSxG

[crypto-donation-box]

New information has come to light which provides further support for the theory that Elliot Rodger was the practical equivalent of a male feminist who was pathologically introverted, romantically isolated, and who simply didn’t understand that men and women are psychologically different and require different courtship approaches. A family friend of the Rodger’s understood intuitively what was wrong with Elliot: He needed help meeting girls.

When a student, Elliot Rodger, went on a rampage in California in May, killing six people, one man began wondering if he could have prevented it. Hollywood screenwriter Dale Launer knew Rodger and had tried to help solve his problems with women. […]

Launer: The Elliot portrayed in the manifesto and in the video he made was not the Elliot that I remember.

The person in that video was cocky, arrogant and hateful [ed: only in the end did Elliot become the jerk chicks dig]  – the Elliot I knew was a very meek, timid and awkward kid.

I first met him when he was aged eight or nine and I could see then that there was something wrong with him.

I’m not a psychologist, but looking back now he strikes me as someone who was broken from the moment of conception.

It appeared to me that he had an overwhelming lack of confidence but not in a particularly endearing way. Sad, but not endearing. […]

He never raised his voice – he didn’t even seem capable of raising his voice. He didn’t slam doors or pound his fist. I couldn’t imagine him making a fist.

Beta males rarely get into fights. “Have you ever been in a fight?” is a question on the Dating Market Value Test for Men for a reason.

In retrospect, you can point out a few clues, a few cracks to the malevolence percolating underneath but they were overshadowed by someone who seemed incapable of any kind of action.

He did not simmer or seethe. The boldness he showed in that video wasn’t something I ever saw before.

Elliot knew (to himself) he was about to die in that final video. That freedom may have allowed his long-dormant inner alpha to finally come out and play. Or, he could have been hopped up on cocaine or Xanax.

We met a few times and emailed a lot. He seemed convinced that women hated him but he could never tell me why.

It seemed like he would perceive cruelness or hatefulness when in fact, I suspected, he was just being ignored.

This is the developmental process by which woman-hating betas are created.

I remember giving him an assignment once so he could try to establish some kind of dynamic with a woman.

I told him, “When you see a woman next time you’re on campus and you like her hair or sunglasses, just pay her a compliment.”

I told him, “It’s a freebie, something in passing, you’re not trying to make conversation. Keep walking, don’t make any long eye contact, just give the free compliment.” The idea being you might make a friend if you make someone feel good.

I said to Elliot, “In the next few weeks – if you see them they’ll likely give you a smile – and you can smile back and eventually turn this into chit-chat.”

I got in touch with him a few weeks later and asked if he did it. He said “no”. And when asked why not, he said “Why do I have to compliment them? Why don’t they compliment me?”

At that stage, I realised he was very troubled.

This isn’t half-bad advice. Launer had good intentions and, it seems, a fairly decent grasp of women and what Elliot would need to do to get over his crippling introversion. It’s basically newbie game. “Get out there, say SOMETHING to girls that isn’t a compliment of their beauty, and move on while you still have the happy high of making an approach. Get used to talking to girls first before you start spitting seduction game.”

Elliot didn’t do it. That’s the source tragedy. I imagine his victims would be alive today if Elliot had completed Launer’s task. But for the flight of a betaboy, a typhoon brews in the sea…

Here we have our first hard evidence that Elliot didn’t get women at all. Similar to cellar-dwelling manlets who think that any proactive effort to woo women is tantamount to “putting the pussy on a pedestal”, Elliot believed that it was beneath him to approach girls and start a conversation. In his world of equalist ignorance, women are just like men, except with different genitalia, so logically why shouldn’t women approach him to give him compliments? If his premises are right, you can’t really argue with his conclusions.

But of course his premises were all wrong. And who knows why they were all wrong. Mental illness? Pathological neuroticism toxicified with a dash of repressed narcissism? A dearth of savvy male authority figures who could educate younger Elliot about the realities of female sexual nature?

Elliot needed guidance. He needed an experienced man — not a weirdo coterie of emotionally retreating family kin shoving pills down this throat — to patiently inform him before the rot had set that biological differences between the sexes means that women will rarely, if ever, approach men directly to start conversations, that it is the man’s job, if he wants sex and love in his life, to break the ice. And that however unfair Elliot deemed this state of the sexes, it was a reality that would never change, and never go away. He had only one choice: To make reality work for him, instead of fighting futilely against reality.

In one of the last emails I sent to him, I became quite frustrated.

I pointed out that he had the choice to change his circumstances, and if he didn’t make the effort then he had to take some of the blame. He insisted that, “I have to blame someone for my troubles, and I don’t blame myself.”

It appears that by the time Launer intervened, Elliot’s romantic ignorance and ego self-preservation had consumed him. He was beyond help. I wonder if Launer would have had more positive impact had he explained to Elliot WHY he needed to do his newbie game drill rather than just giving him the task without justification for it. Most unenlightened men who come to the Chateau to learn the ways of the crimson arts are first introduced to a steady diet of knowledge about psychosocial sex differences before the juicy game strategies are revealed.

One time there was a gathering at his parents’ place and Elliot was his usual uncomfortable self.

I asked Peter if Elliot was ticklish. Peter said he was, so I encouraged a couple of women to tickle him and you know, that was the only time I saw Elliot express any kind of joy. It seemed that, at least for those moments, he was a normal kid.

A woman’s touch is water to a parched man. Sad, sad Elliot. Game can save lives. But only for those willing to see.

[crypto-donation-box]

Women project their charisma-induced arousal onto men. Men project their visually-induced arousal onto women. And where the streams of these two projections meet, confusion and frustration with the seemingly strange behavior of the opposite sex emerge.

Commenter AErickson perceptively observes,

I have a little under 9% body fat, a good amount of lean muscle fiber, visible abdominal muscles, etc., and can generally concur that it really is not that useful in attracting women. Further, in line with your argument that women are generally pretty solipsistic when it comes to bodies, when first seeing me shirtless, women are more likely to comment “Wow, how much do you workout/I wish I had your flat stomach!” then they are to comment “So sexy/I want your body/etc.” I workout because I enjoy it and because I care about my health; for attracting women it is more important to focus on other things, like charisma and outside passions.

This rings true, because I’ve heard (in context) the same lines from women, almost verbatim.

In relation to the functioning of the sexual market and how women perceive men’s bodies, it’s useful to think of male looks and physique as an inspiring aesthetic rather than a perspiring analeptic. Men hunger at the sight of women’s sexy bodies; women appreciate the sight of men’s masculine bodies (and then wonder if the man behind the body is interesting). As Elaine said, men’s bodies are utilitarian, like Jeeps, built to get things done.

While this formulation is by no means exclusive of overlap or exceptions, as a general rule it works well. A man with a good body is like a fine sculpture, or a technological wonder; enjoyable for women to admire and to uncover the artist’s or engineer’s intent, perhaps even going so far as to use the work of art for a solipsistic moment of self-reflection.

A woman with a good body is art, but she is also a drug, stimulating instant desire in men that is like the human aesthetic sense distilled in raw form to its ancestral animal essence, whereby the object is not to admire, but to consume.

Women can be stimulated to instant, wall-climbing desire as well, but it usually requires more… much more… than a muscular body. If you want to know what instant, insistent, existential female horniness looks like, go to high society parties and watch how they behave in the company of a famous or powerful man.

[crypto-donation-box]

After Randall Parker gazed in the crystal ball and saw chaos and decay in America’s near future, commenter “Jim” contributed a sound bite worthy of the coveted CH Freelance COTW.

Places like Brazil and the Congo have enormous economic potential just based on geography, climate, and natural resources. A place like Japan is mountainous (only 3% of the land area is arable), few natural resources, not located near major trade routes, subject to frequent catastrophic earthquakes and tsunamis. But Japan has the Japanese people who are more valuable than all of Brazil’s natural wealth.

Doesn’t that get right to the beating heart of all our loud, violent, useless social discourse?

whatever happens, japan has got
the japanese, and you have not

When future elites, at least those having evaded the gallows following Civil War II and walled off in far northern city-state compounds where the ice winds blow, dare to spend a moment to wonder when it all went south for America, a few of them with integrity — no more than a handful, mind you — will find the strength within to betray their ravenous egos and confess that the project of their forebears to flood their homeland with non-anglos and non-germanics was seppuku with a dull shiv. Cutting out the viscera of a country never ends well.

[crypto-donation-box]

Rationalizing Fearfulness

I’ve noticed a faddishness among so-called “red pill” men lately to assert with the cynical glee of a conspiracy theorist stumbling across doubleplussecret knowledge that only men with 8-10% body fat and Hollywood good looks are capable of pulling girls cold, and that any man who falls short of those physical dimensions ought to console himself with internet porn or drop out of the mating race to “go his own way”.

Men who think like this believe that the only achievable pickup is one that starts with the woman initiating an “approach invitation”, i.e., a flirty nonverbal signal that lets a man know she will accept his approach. They believe that it is exceedingly rare to find examples of men successfully approaching inattentive or indifferent girls and earning the notch.

Rubbish. Anyone who’s lived a day in his life has witnessed (or executed) a pickup attempt that began with the man making an unsolicited approach and progressed to the woman gradually warming up with romantic interest. Not only does it happen all the time in real life, but our literature is replete with caddish, not-particularly-handsome characters who not only cold approached and defiled initially indifferent women, but often took up the challenge of seducing actively hostile women.

The female “approach invitation” doubtless adds a layer of efficiency to the mating market, (a phenomenon that in theory would be more frequent in r-selection societies), but it by no means is a prerequisite for love, or lust, to bloom. If anything, women have traditionally sought to suppress their approach invitations so that only the boldest, and hence most desirable, men would solicit them. Chicks dig an entitled jerkboy who doesn’t need an air traffic controller to wave him onto a woman’s landing strip.

Two kinds of men are zealous followers of the “8-10% body fat seduction” religion: Very good-looking but socially shy and/or lazy men who have spent a lifetime relying on female approach invitations to get laid, and shut-ins with a persecution complex who have a strong psychological need to blame their romantic inertia on external forces beyond their ability to control or shape.

Blaming failure, or attributing success, with women on one’s looks is a classic case of psychological projection of innate male desire. Men desire a woman’s looks first and foremost, and so men get trapped into thinking women desire the same thing to the same degree of exclusion. Women certainly value male looks, but not nearly with the same intensity or single-mindedness that men value female looks. Evidence for this sex disparity abounds: The ugly man with a hot girlfriend is a far more common occurrence than the ugly woman with the dashing, successful man. Furthermore, we can find emanations and penumbras of the lower value women place on male looks in how women react to men who are excessively preoccupied with their superficial appearance: Simply, it repulses women.

(Excessively preening women can mildly annoy some men, but most men won’t complain because the payoff of female attention to beautification is too great.)

The strange male inverse bravado that accompanies proselytization of the “8-10% body fat seduction” religion is nothing more than rationalizing fearfulness. Men who, for whatever reasons, are fearful of boldly introducing themselves to women to start a conversation with the intent of sparking an eventual sexual flame will soothe their egos with a litany of palatable excuses for their failure to launch. And one such handy excuse that seems to work with urgent plausibility is the “I don’t look like Hugh Jackman on HGH and that’s why I can’t get a cute girlfriend.”

This particular male hamster is an endurance athlete. He spins in his wheel for a long time without needing rest because it’s easier to focus the rodent’s eye on the men with top 1% looks who get a lot of glances from women, rather than to turn the rodent’s eye inward to take painful account of one’s own timidity.

It may be a simpler task to visually isolate the good-looking men from the charmers who got their women with the nimbleness of their tongues or the social lords who got theirs with the rule of their fiefdoms, but it’s also dangerously misleading. FACT: What women consider good-looking in men is far less inclusive than what men consider good-looking in women. FACT: Women are far less likely to solicit or passively pursue men they find good-looking than are men to pursue women they find good-looking.

This means, in practice, that very few men can rely on their looks for “fool’s mate” lays. Now, obviously, there is a much larger population of men who aren’t in the top 1% of male looks who nevertheless manage to get laid and build relationships with cute girls. How do these homely fuckers do it? It’s not such a mystery if you understand and accept that men can leverage much more than their looks to attract and woo women. The mystery is further demystified when you accept that there are men bolder and more confident than you are who didn’t allow their fear to condemn them to masturbatory inaction.

In other words…

they

busted

a

move.

Male “8-10% body fat” rationalization of fearfulness to approach and risk female rejection is the mirror image of a woman rationalizing her failure to get a man to commit by blaming his “issues” instead of blaming his reticence on the more distinct probability that she wasn’t pretty or caring enough for him to lavish her with long-term love and provisioning.

Both rationalizations stem from a similar psychological dynamic to avoid self-assessment that is responsive to sex-specific corrective action.

Whenever you hear a “red pill” man drone about seduction being nothing more than waiting around for a girl who likes your particular look to bat her eyes at you, know that you are reading the whiny excuse-mongering of a man who is allergic to cold approaching. He is giving you an incomplete picture because he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he shits his pants at the thought of starting conversations with women who aren’t prescreened in advance for receptivity.

None of this post should be misconstrued as support for the opposite claim that a man’s looks don’t matter at all, or that female approach invitations won’t grease the skids to sex. Quite the contrary, all else equal, a good-looking man will have an easier go of it than an ugly man, and a man who was cued to approach will have better odds than a man who approached a woman who gave no flirty cues.

Think of this post instead as a corrective to falsely dichotomous thinking like that exhibited by adherents to the “8-10% body fat seduction” religion. A corrective that appears to be more necessary than ever, because the internet disease of ego preservation at all costs is a mind virus that infects even supposedly clear-thinking, self-anointed dissidents to the blue pill orthodoxy.

To demonstrate my good faith to my readers, here is a picture of a very ugly man who will not ever be banging hard 10s:

when fupas meet

Judgment rendered? Hold on. Imagine this man without the goony accoutrement and dressed in stylish clothes that at the least don’t blatantly advertise his obesity. Now imagine he has read this blog and learned some basic game concepts and has increased his charisma roll by +2. Let’s further stipulate that he has taken the big step of actually going up to girls to talk to them, refusing to surrender to his fear. Maybe he’s even lost twenty pounds, and looks a little less hideous at first sight.

No, he still won’t bang hard 10s, nor, for that matter, soft 6s and 7s. Probably not even lumpy 4s and 5s. But he will be able to realistically trade up from a monstrous pig-faced 0 to, say, a chubby and conspicuously female 2 or 3. And that improvement in his love prospects will feel to him, a man heretofore parched of attention from recognizably human females, like an embarrassment of harem riches.

So you can swallow the “red pill” of rationalized powerlessness, or you can slap away the hands holding these pills and confront the mating market’s challenges with your vision unblurred by drug-induced hallucination.

[crypto-donation-box]

Approach Week has officially ended. The comments are open again. This is your opportunity to recount in the comments section your favorite approaches from the past week (you did approach during Approach Week, right?). Consider it a teachable moment. The best anecdotes will be added to this post in an update below.

So… now that you’ve approached, how do you feel? Do your testes hang heavier? I’ll tell you one of my approaches. (Some details redacted to evade GPS locators.)

SHIVCALIBUR: Hey there.

Mary’s Little Clam: Wut?

SHIVCALIBUR: I said hi.

Mary’s Little Clam: Oh… hi.

SHIVCALIBUR: Can’t wait for this conversation to heat up.

Mary’s Little Clam: That’s so weird. [she trots off]

OK, that came up a bit short of WINNING. But you know what? It still felt better than doing nothing.

******

Update: Readers submit their approach stories.

Eeyore had a George “the jerk store called” Costanza moment:

Actually said: That’s a pretty name. What do they call you [for short]?

Should have said: What’s that, Spanish for freckles?

Approach Week was not about the perfect opener. It was about approaching. Get over the fear first, then work on improving your delivery.

***

Martin’s approach turned out to be an accidental neg.

Well, I fell short of my goal to get a phone number, but I did learn this is probably a difficult thing to achieve. I approached an asian woman who I would guess was maybe 30 who is a receptionist at the front of a library but she was not working. I asked her if she happened to own any cats because for some reason she looked like a cat person. Well, I felt numb with anxiety as I was asking her this and especially in the pause where I waited for her response but we ended up having a brief conversation and she mentioned she had a boyfriend during the course of it. I suppose it was a subtle cue but maybe not. I have seen her before on many occasions but never talked with her so I guess I did not go up to a random woman I haven’t met before. I am not sure if there was really much of a learning experience that took place. While I don’t think she was terrified or repulsed, I can’t say I got any idea about how to be successful doing this.

A girl will curiously recall “you look like a cat [lady]” a lot more readily than she’ll remember a man asking her about her job.

***

Rick250 gives us his approach.

Hot woman in beginner yoga class i take had a shirt on with an artsy looking nuclear symbol.
I approached her at the end of class where people drink tea, “So your shirt has a radioactive symbol on it. Does that mean i should keep my distance?”

You certainly get points for the approach, but in future I would steer clear of self-denigrating openers like this one. (You have implied she would want you to keep your distance.) A better frame with which to use this opener would be: “Your shirt has a radioactive symbol on it. Are you toxic to men?”

***

stigletz writes,

approached in Edinburgh the other day (I’m from the states)

a tremendously hot girl jay-walked across the street in front of two cops so I walked up with a, “you got a lot of balls for jay-walking in front of two cops like that”

explain how it’s a whole nother offense in Europe, generally

she was giving me that smirk (or perhaps a petrified rictus?) for having the balls to approach but I could tell she was weirded out / overwhelmed

a silence fell over (I was comfortable
enough with this) and she says, ‘why are you still here?’

a haughty shit test. best thing to do was start a new thread and not acknowledge or play it against her (and did I ever fail the ‘you must be drunk for even talking to me’ shit test by that error) but instead I sort of just ‘misinterpreted’ the question and said I was just there from the states trying to get to know Edinburgh

we conversed some more and she hopped on her bus and left. didn’t bother salvaging the number scraps.

I have to say, “why are you still here?” is a tough shit test that most inexperienced betas would fail. You did well. I suggest any man who gets this shit test (or something similar) respond as they would to a child who said the same to them. For example: “Because those are the rules.”

***

Nyan Sandwich confesses,

Did way less approaching than I should have. That said, did more than I would have otherwise.

Went to a club and chatted and danced with cute girls. They seemed to lose interest. It was fun, but then I ran out of mojo and it stopped being fun so I went home.

Made an extra effort to chat up sales girls.

Have to actually start doing daygame yad-stops.

Awkward but improving.

You won’t approach girls unless you set aside a specific block of time or devote a compartment of mental energy to do them. That was the goal of Approach Week… to get you guys into the right head space where inaction could not be rationalized.

***

Troubadour puts his cards on the table.

My Approach Week was weird. I saw four girls worth approaching, but didn’t approach any of them. I have just accepted that unless I catch the right break, approaching girls while I’m working is just too much for me.

I have decided to try a completely different approach to everything. I need to get out during my time off, when I’m not representing any brand other than my own. I really hate going out alone just to try to meet girls, and given a choice between going out alone trying to find girls to meet and staying home with my wife, I have decided to just stay home with my wife 90% of the time. This is getting me nowhere.

So what if I went out with my wife, and tried to meet girls? I’ve been saying I ought to do this, and some of you have said if I actually have the balls to do that, it’s beautiful game.

Well, why the fuck not?

So here in a little bit, I’m going to put the wife in my truck and ride up to see my friend girl. We all know friend girl was just using me for attention, and I’m never going to fuck her, but this will amuse the shit out of me anyway, so I’m going to do it. I’m going to get my wife to stand there with her hand on my cock, stroking my beard, while I totally ignore her and talk to friend girl for the last time. I need closure to get over that stupid obsession, and you never know… Yeah, it’s a desperation play, but WHAT a desperation play!

Girls want what other girls want. Being married only proves my wife hasn’t taken the cash prize yet. I have a woman who will do ANYTHING to keep from being dumped, and I can prove it by making my wife stand there attending to me while I’m actively trying to fuck some other girl. (I don’t have one yet, but she has agreed to wear an “I AM A FAT PIG” t-shirt, and a dog leash. Heh heh heh.)

The last time I got laid on the side, this is actually how it happened. I used to massage that girl’s tits directly in front of my wife, and I fucked her, and then I spent 20 years feeling guilty about nothing, and never cheating again. It’s a fucked up way to get laid, but it worked once. Why won’t it work again?

My wife is fat and plain, so this won’t be as effective as it could be. It may turn out that trying to use a fat wife as social proof doesn’t get me anywhere at all.

I can terminate the experiments at any time. We’re going to see how this goes. I would enjoy having company as I go in search of pussy, and I truly don’t give a shit if she divorces me, so I have everything to gain by trying this.

After we see friend girl, I’m taking her to a titty bar, and making her pay for everything and sit there stroking my beard while I stare up some hot girl’s snatch.

This is my brand of honesty game. I’m just putting all my cards on the table; some good, some not so flattering.

Mission accomplished.

My instincts were telling me not to do this the whole way up there, and the closer you get to doing the right thing, the more last minute excuses you find not to do it, so… I did it!

I guess what I really accomplished was shattering the stupid fantasy. I didn’t succeed in communicating my message at all, and everything went over like a lead balloon. Friend girl was freaked the fuck out, and probably scared half to death.

Well, that’s better than believing there’s some extreme wild ass way to get out of the friend zone that only works for me.

I got laid three times tonight. Life could be worse.

No further comment necessary. Editorializing would distract from the brutalist poetry of Troubadour’s rendezvous.

***

The Supreme Gentleman drops “No Fly Zone” game.

Met a cute girl at a party this weekend. When I went to the bathroom, I hatched a great idea. I deliberately left my fly unzipped and sat next to her. The following happened after a few minutes:

Her: um, lulz, your pants are unzipped

Thief of Hearts: (nonchalantly) oh how embarrassing. at least we know where your eyes are at now *devious smirk*

She had a twinkle in her eye and her jaw dropped with a hint of a grin. I left it unzipped for the remainder of the conversation and carried on like Satriales sausage shop wasn’t open for business. I number closed her and I might be taking her out for drinks this week, depending on my schedule.

My cold approaches didn’t have much of a success rate, but this was pretty much the highlight of the week. Something tells me I’m gonna fuck close this chick next time I see her.

By the way, CH, as far as cold approaches go, one thing I’ve always seen in movies is a guy approach a chick at a bar and whisper something into her ear. Sounds kind of corny, but it looks like a good way to initiate touching. I’d like to hear your take on this. What sort of sweet nothings would you whisper into a girl’s ear during a cold approach?

No Fly Zone Game is a great contribution to the seduction literature. As for “Whisper Game”, no doubt it’s powerful, but also limited in application. Most venues, bar or otherwise, are too loud for whispers to register. Then there’s the creep factor; unless the context is just right, and your delivery honed to perfection, you’re liable to receive a retreating head jerk as soon as the first eddies of your hot breath tickle her ears.

Given the inherent limitations, I nevertheless have a nugget of experience using whisper game. Sweet temptings I’ve stitched into the ear lobes of prospective plunders:

“Do you have the time?” This works especially well if you build up to the whisper with a dramatic flourish, as if you’re about to tell her a secret.
“It’s me” or “Don’t turn around.” Then when she swivels to see who it is, affect a shocked look as you exclaim you thought she was someone else. Shrug your shoulders and start a new conversation.
And for the warm post-approaches (pre-known girls): “Now you know what a skipped heartbeat feels like.”

The key with Whisper Game is to approach the ear slowly and deliberately, if you are facing the girl, as if you are expecting nothing less than full compliance. A quick lurch for her aural cavity will startle the prey.

[crypto-donation-box]

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