Perhaps I’m overly sensible, but why exactly does the US need to get involved defending South Korea from an attack by North Korea? Would your life appreciably change for the worse if those two duked it out on their own terms?
Last I checked, South Koreans hated America, and protests against our military presence there are a regular occurrence. It used to be the Code of the Tribe that when another tribe ostensibly under your tribe’s umbrella of protection hates the living fuck out of you and your kind, you at the least stop protecting them if no natural resource they own and which you use is in danger of mass disruption.
Given the anti-white male animus that percolates like boiling magma through every corridor of the Cathedral, it’s a wonder there are white men left willing to fight for the US of Majority-Minority. I’d call them fools if I didn’t think there’s still a chance they might see the light one day. And by “see the light”…
The website Feminine Beauty is where the “beauty is subjective” lie goes to get sledgehammered into gooey paste. It’s a warehouse of studies and analysis that utterly shreds the pretty lie that prettiness is in the eye of the beholder, and for doing Baal’s work, I thank them. There are only so many hours in a day to take a huge steaming dump on the platitude pushers, so assistance is always appreciated.
There’s an interesting post in their archives that examines how leg length in men and women correlates with attractiveness. Drawings of five male and female models were altered so that their legs and torsos were lengthened or shortened. The results of the study were unambiguous:
For a given height, the judges preferred longer legs in women and shorter legs in men.
For the same height, women tend to have longer legs. Hence this study reported a preference for exaggerated sexual dimorphism.
The author of the post notes that this would explain why women wear high heels: they make women’s legs appear relatively longer. So much for the hamster reasoning of that indignant ex who once insisted, when I innocently asked why she wore make-up and heels, that she does it “for myself”. No sweet cheeks, you do it, subconsciously or knowingly, to make yourself look more appealing to men. Coincidentally, in a faraway basement hovel, a troll who believes that any effort to woo the opposite sex is a sign of low value wept into its cheeto-stained triple chin.
But the study is not without its limitations, especially regarding the effect of leg length on men’s attractiveness.
In the line drawings, the authors achieved longer legs by stretching the legs in the photo editor, making them thinner in the process, but thinner legs will count against the appeal of men. So it is possible that a better study will show a similar find, but not that the shortest legs shown in the line drawings are optimally preferred in men.
There is probably some truth to this caveat, however the male body type women most prefer (at least when they are ovulating) — mesomorphic — tends to be more proportional between torso and leg length. Ectomorphs are the ones with really long legs.
This study corroborates real world observation and cultural allusions. Men do seem to prefer long luscious legs on women. This preference is likely — no, it most definitely is, let’s just say it outright — innate, and immune to feminist scum social intervention propaganda efforts to change it.
Does a male preference for long legs mean men like really tall women? No.
The authors cited some literature to argue that men most strongly prefer women with average height, but the correct interpretation is that over a very broad height range, men do not really care how tall a woman is. As one approaches the extremes of height, it becomes more difficult for women to find men, and hence women closer to average height will be more successful with men than women who are much shorter or much taller, but this isn’t the same as an optimal preference for average height in women.
Where it gets confusing is reconciling the fact of male preference for long-legged women with the evidence that short women are more reproductively successful than tall women. (Keep in mind that “reproductively successful” does not necessarily mean “sexually successful” or “romantically successful” in the contraceptively-wrapped, Pill-popping secular world.) So perhaps the ideal mate for the typical man is a shorter than average woman with longer than average legs for her height. Three huzzahs for a spinner with long helicopter blades.
In a future post, we will discuss whether women with short legs prefer very masculine alpha men.
What are the two words that a girl will say to a man when she’s experiencing a vague craving for sex with him?
Reader Vagitarian asks for some game advice:
I need some advice from CH readers! I’ve been doing my best as the article states to become the ladies man I’ve always pictured myself being. I’m now bedding more and better quality women.
My sis has a hot-9 friend that just broke off an engagement. I’ve always had a crush on her and I know she eyes me from time to time. Especially since I rejected her approaches years ago – had a girlfriend at the time (was being beta but the rejection was so alpha). Our paths never cross, but we are both going to my sis’ wedding in the next few months. To spark things up I contacted her on FB where she likes every second post or picture I put up. I’ve never msged her or liked anything of hers… ever.
Me: Hey I didn’t know you guys have a plane? You get to fly it much?!
-Same day-
Her: Hey you! How’s it going? And yes my dad flies…blah blah …I do once a month or so.
-3 days later-
Me: Oh cool, so you’re in real estate right? Has your dad ever let you land?!
-One week later-
Her: Yeah, blah blah.. You back in the city too? Soooo excited for your sisters wedding in a few months!!! You bringing a hot date?!
—————-
How long should I wait to reply and what should I say? Do I avoid her last question completely or should I suggest that I’m going alone with full intentions of nailing her or any other of my sister’s ridiculously hot friends?
I’m usually pretty good at the indifferent txt/fb game but I feel like I’m over thinking shit here. In the past if I made a mistake I wouldn’t give a shit but I really want to bed this one!! What do I say and how do I form it guys? Thank for the help!!
Reader Newly Aloof responds,
Her: Bringing a hot date?
You: It’s complicated.
Anytime I’ve ever had a girl respond to me with “Hey You” I knew she was dtf. Something about Hey You.
This is so true that I don’t even… I can’t even…. odds or evens. There really is something predictably revealing about “hey you” when a girl uses it. As with Newly Aloof’s observation, I’ve yet to meet a girl who dropped the “hey you” greeting on me who didn’t eventually show keen interest in becoming an intimate partner in grime. It’s especially revealing when you hear a girl say “hey you” rather than reading it in text. Typically, she will sing-song the phrase…
hey yoooooo
…like a vocal fry on steroids. And perhaps accentuate her delivery with a cute hunched shoulder, upturned head, full body mini-hop, eyes glimmering like C-beams.
It’s as if the two words “hey” and “you”, melodically concatenated for synergistic effect, are the symptomatic verbal goosebumps of the warm chill caused by her engorging labia.
Anyhow, to answer Vagitarian’s game-related question, “It’s complicated” is a fine reply. “We’ll see” and “The usual. My harem” also would work. Krauser’s suggestion — “Behave…or it’s the naughty corner for you young lady…” – is good, too, especailly as a tactic for luring the girl to parry and sustain the conversation. Don’t worry so much about how long to wait to reply. If you reply like a man with options, it won’t matter how long you wait.
UPDATE
Commenter Revo Luzione adds,
Yeah, I’ve noticed that too. It’s code for ” Hey (I want to bang) you!” It’s funny when it comes from women from work or other people that are supposed to be “off limits.”
It’s fun knowing what women are really thinking. Every time you hear the “hey you” greeting from girls, it’s like seeing the tumbling green code in The Matrix, except it’s not green code, it’s pink pussies.
Barack Obama apologizes for calling Kamala Harris ‘best-looking attorney general’
U.S. President Barack Obama has apologized to California Attorney General Kamala Harris for causing a stir when he called her “the best-looking attorney general” at a Democratic fundraiser this week.
Yeah, yeah, Putin dispatches enemies abroad with polonium-tipped umbrellas, and you’d probably not want to say anything bad about him on the internet if you were living in Russia, but ask yourselves, who would you rather represent your country? This guy:
A topless demonstrator with written messages on her back walks towards Russian President Vladimir Putin (L) and German Chancellor Angela Merkel (R) during the opening tour of the Hanover Fair in Hanover, Germany, 08 April 213. Several activists stormed the booth of Volkswagen to demonstrate in presence of the politicians. Photo by: Jochen Lübke/picture-alliance/dpa/AP Images
or this guy?
Now who does Putin’s “boobies!” face remind me of? Oh yes…
Great alpha males troll the shit out of vapid feminists. The best response to a shrieking femcunt is withering condescension, garnished with a belittling thumbs up or a shit-eating smirk.
There are those who doubt the efficacy of game on the premise that all important personality and behavioral traits, including those vital to attracting women, like charm, wit and a large, throbbing ego, are determined at birth. They don’t accept the idea that a man can change himself for the better, or the notion that genetic endowment is probabilistic rather than deterministic.
Although it’s wise for “nurture firsters” to admit the limits of their ideology and concede that the gene determinists have a point and have been heretofore cut off from the national conversation on matters of public policy, the latter have their advocates who also push their theory of everything too far. For instance, we know that men can influence their behavioral outcome and even their hormone levels by adopting “power poses”; that is, standing or sitting with the mien of an alpha male. This is hard proof that “genes” and predispositions can be dampened, or amplified, by proactive behavioral changes. It is also proof that at least one aspect of game, as the term is understood to mean learned and applied charisma, does work to alter women’s perceptions of men’s mate value.
Now there is more ♥♥♥ scientific evidence ♥♥♥ lending validity to another core concept of game: faking it till you make it works.
People do transform their lives, every day. But for the most part they don’t do it by relying on willpower. The key, it turns out, is to simply start behaving like the person you want to become. Instead of wondering, What should I do?, imagine your future, better self and ask: What would they do?This approach works because of the rather surprising way that our brains form self-judgments. Numerous experiments have demonstrated that when it comes to forming beliefs about our own character and proclivities, we don’t peer inward, as you might expect; instead, we observe our own external behavior. If we see ourselves carrying out a particular action—whatever the actual motivation—our self-conception molds itself to explain that reality.
In one experiment, a researcher asked a group of subjects to take part in a bogus experiment and allowed them to win a sum of money. Afterward the researcher went up to the subjects and told them that he’d had to use his own paltry funds to subsidize the experiment; apologizing, he asked if they wouldn’t mind giving the money back, so he could continue his research. A second group of subjects performed the exact same bogus experiment and won the same prize money—but weren’t asked to give the money back. Finally, all of the experimental subjects were asked to subjectively rate the researcher’s likeability. It turned out that the ones who’d given back their prize money liked him a lot better. The reason: in order to explain our behavior to ourselves, we have to make assumptions about our own proclivities. I gave the guy money, the subjects subconsciously reasoned, so I must have liked him.
Likewise, the most effective way to move toward change is to act like you’ve already achieved it. Don’t worry about playing mind-games with yourself. Don’t worry about affirmations. The way to become a fit person is to act like one. I’ve always found that the hardest part of exercising—the only hard part, really—is putting on my sneakers. Once they’re on, there’s pretty much a 100 percent chance of getting some form of workout done. Why else would I have these shoes on?
You are a ladies’ man. Start acting like it, and you will in fact become the ladies’ man ladies love.
Obviously, you can’t change your internal reality overnight. But act out the change you want, and day by day, the weight of evidence will become undeniable. Before long, the person you pretend to be becomes the person that you are. In one experiment, researchers recruited subjects who said they wanted to learn one new habit, and asked them perform the new behavior every day. After 60 days, most of them rated the newly learned habit as effortless to perform. What had once been a desired change was now an accepted reality.
What had once been a beta male, was now an alpha male reality.
Game is like any other self-improvement endeavor. You “assume the pose”, you practice it relentlessly, and you make it a habit, like brushing your teeth. If you had never picked up a toothbrush, your teeth would be rotting and falling out today. But you ignored your naturally lazy ways, picked up a toothbrush and used it everyday, until it became habitual and second-nature. You stopped thinking about brushing your teeth, and now you have a gleaming row of choppers as a reward. It’s the same with learning the habits of applied male charisma that women can’t resist. You actively incorporate the trappings of alpha male behavior and attitude into your life until it becomes a real part of you, and then you have a gleaming row of sexually aroused women as a reward.
Sometimes it’s amusing to hear the Word of CH tumbling from the lips of women with a shred of self-awareness, as they recount their conflicted feelings for the beta males and alpha males of their lives. Here, an old woman phantom menstruates over the tiniest memory of a cad with whom she had a brief fling fifty years ago at her peak nubility age of eighteen. In her yearning recollection, you will recognize the wisdom of the Chateau.
Dark, brooding and with a hint of world-weary danger, he was a cross between a 19th-century decadent poet and a Hollywood heartthrob.
Chicks dig the dark triad, or a reasonable simulation thereof.
I was just a few weeks into my first term at Newcastle University, and determined to lose my virginity at the first opportunity. I resolved that he would be the one to do the deed.
Betas strugglewoo for years to get that pussy; alphas have it FedExed to their laps.
I discovered his name: John Nicholas Harley Pellowe — even that sounded impossibly romantic — and that he lived in Henderson Hall, the most glamorous Hall of Residence…
An important concept of game is the cultivation of mystery. A man of intrigue has hardly much self-promoting to do; the woman will promote him in her mind, filling in the missing details or embroidering the neutral facts in such a way that his allure is only strengthened.
I made it my life’s work to find out where he might be and to be there, too. Alone, I tramped round the seedy jazz clubs of Newcastle whenever I was tipped off about a possible sighting.
Eventually, my efforts were rewarded. I was sitting in the library one day when he walked in. I felt white-hot desire and, propelled by almost insane love and longing, walked over to him. From then on, we started a sort of relationship.
“sort of relationship”
We would meet at parties and other functions
Aka booty calls. How did men booty call before the invention of cell phones? Must have been the old-fashioned way: face-to-face. Much respect.
— at which, I have to admit, he paid me scant attention.
You’d think that would have slowed her down. But no.
But I would interpret any little crumb of affection or interest as undying love on his part.
People value that which is scarce and priced accordingly. A man who gives his affection and interest away for free is advertising to women that he believes he is worth exactly that price. If he’s got at least a little going on, he’ll be used like the free samples at your local farm-fresh SWPLmarket. In contrast, a man who makes a woman work for his affection will be perceived as possessing very high market value, and she will swoon uncontrollably whenever he deigns to gift her with one of these minor victories over his studied aloofness.
I soon lost my virginity to him, in his room at Henderson Hall, and thought my happiness was complete.
What he was thinking: “Ok, how do I get out of here without her causing a scene?”
I was so besotted that I never even noticed another young man lurking along the corridor, named Bryan Ferry.
A beta makes his move!
The Christmas holidays came and I wondered how I could get through them without [Alpha John].
Patience, readers. The beta will require years and countless demonstrations of abject appeasement to complete his move.
But he was still being a very reluctant swain, and although keen enough to have sex,
It’s as much the fate of women to misconstrue sex as evidence that a man wants a loving relationship as it is the fate of beta males to misconstrue emotional sharing as evidence that a woman wants sex.
he never once asked me out, or even seemed to want to be seen with me.
Maybe it’s because you weren’t pretty enough for him? Nah, couldn’t be!
I sort of knew it would never come right, yet, wilfully, I ignored all the warning signs.
But all warning signs are not the same. For example, women have no trouble heeding the warning signs that a man showing interest in them is a beta male. In those cases, nothing is ignored; the beta is jettisoned without a moment’s reflection. If anything, women over-correct for beta male warning signs (gotta protect those eggs from even catching a whiff of limply motile beta male sperm).
After one of our many nights of passion, more in love with him than ever, if that was possible,
Sunk cock theory. She had worked hard for his wang and invested her heart and soul only to be rewarded with his cruelly delicious indifference. Her investment is not going to pan out but she’ll see it through to the last shilling of her sanity. This is Chick Crack 101.
I saw him at the top of the steps of the Union Building and ran up to him.
I wonder if she recalls this level of detail about fleeting moments she had over the decades with her beta hubby?
Now, surely, he would return my love. But instead of flinging his arms around me, remembering the wonderful thrill of the night before, he turned away.
He never spoke to me again.
According to feminist orthodoxy, this proves he was actually a niceguy.
I went into shock, succumbing to a range of illnesses from glandular fever to migraines and strange fainting fits. I would frequently pass out in the street — but at least I hadn’t become pregnant, a girl’s worst fear in those days.
My love for John turned to hate. My demon lover had shown his demonic side, and I tried to move on, as we’d say now.
Indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love.
John ignored me totally, never even acknowledging my presence. Not only did he not love me, he didn’t even like me very much.
Fifty years on, you can still hear the hurt in her words. Remember this, when further along in her confessional she engages the usual last-second empowered woman protestation to the contrary.
To add to the agony, he soon had another girlfriend, a proper one this time, and he even seemed keen on her, paying her the sort of attention he’d never bestowed upon me.
If her beta ex-husband, Neville, were reading her diary of tears dedicated to a long-ago flame, do you think he’d feel strong pride that GSS data trawlers have anointed him an alpha male because he had two (paternity assumed) kids with her?
But I could never forget John Pellowe and the memory of my unrequited love for him put a pall on the marriage, with Neville always feeling he was somehow second best. He used to refer to ‘that chap in your past’ — neither of us could even bring ourselves to mention his name, though we both remembered it only too well.
Answer:
[Neville and I] went out, off and on, for nearly three years before marrying at the age of 21, while we were still students.
It took the beta three years to legally lock down what it took the alpha exactly one nanosecond to sexually lock up.
Which locking system do you think is the more impenetrable? And how many other dudes was she boffing while dating Neville?
In the late Eighties after 20 years of marriage, when our children were 17 and 18, Neville and I divorced.
Ross “Power Brow” Douthat talks a lot about social forces gutting marriage, but is even he, courageous saboteur of the Cathedral, brave enough to grapple with the CH maxim that five minutes of alpha male sexual attention can ruin a woman for the beta males who would be her realistic marital options? Just how many divorces are caused, ultimately, by vivid cock carousel memories?
This time, I sought the help of a trauma psychotherapist to try to get [Alpha John] finally out of my system. He told me that my story was surprisingly common. [ed: ] He asked if I could see John again to help me heal, so that I could finally reach some kind of closure. Apparently this is often very helpful in puncturing the fantasy.
The only fantasy here is the idea that “closure” is anything but brand repackaging for bruised, lovelorn egos.
She goes on a bit describing how she went out of her way to track down her ex-flame and meet with him to experience the aforementioned closure. Despite her dutiful description of his aged appearance (holy crap, people get old-looking!), it’s clear she still tingles for his totem:
Even so, the love and desire, the old passion, rose up in me as we sat and talked over a cup of tea in the café. ‘Is it really you?’ I said in wonder, conjuring up the image of him in his glorious youth.
Men are optic; women are holistic.
I asked him why he’d so cruelly turned away from me and he blamed his ‘ineptness’.
What’d she expect him to say? That she was barely attractive enough for a few rolls in the hay?
As I walked back to the Underground, it was as if with every step I took, a heavy coat was lifted from me. It was the most extraordinary feeling of lightness, and I realised the therapy had worked. I was free of him.
Cue the “last-second empowered woman protestation to the contrary.”
I wrote a book about my adoration of him,
She sounds completely free of him.
I’d forgotten all about the book until recently when an e-book publisher saw it on my website and contacted me about updating it and re-publishing it.
I said yes. In the book, I tried to get to the bottom of this agonising phenomenon that has claimed so many tragic victims…
Heavy coat status: Lifted.
Every now and again, these cruel, uncaring lovers give you a scant bit of attention, and each slight glance pulls you in ever more powerfully.
Uncaring asshole game. Or, if you prefer a more sophisticated nomenclature, “learned charisma.”
When in the grip of such a passion, it’s as if you are taken over by a mind-altering drug and are no longer responsible for your actions.
The tingle trumps the cortex.
It doesn’t really matter whether the object of your affections is married, unavailable, uninterested; nothing will stop the mad passion from taking root and growing, even with little or nothing to feed on.
It’s the lack of nourishment that in fact helps the female passion grow. Kind of like a hydroponic plant.
But what was it about [Alpha John] that made so many otherwise rational, intelligent women fall helplessly at his feet? I think now that he exuded an aura, a kind of force field, that susceptible or vulnerable women picked up.
“Susceptible or vulnerable women” = most women.
One fellow lecturer told me that John didn’t even have to try; that women just flocked to him.
He had the ability, when he was with you, to make you feel as if you were the only woman in the world, even if he ignored you next day.
Aloofness works in conjunction with seductive intensity. Total pick-up aloofness is only possible if you possess extreme fame, or you’re dead.
Even his head of department at Newcastle University, Barbara Strang, one of the few female professors at the time, fell for him. She would have been in her 40s to his 25 or so. So it wasn’t just me, being a daft, lovesick maiden.
It’s funny how women are shocked to discover their alpha lovers only have eyes for them and two dozen other women.
After the shock of John Pellowe’s treatment of me, it never felt safe to fall in love with anybody again — at least not in that cataclysmic way.
Concern for “safeness” is not why she couldn’t fall in love with anybody again. “Comparative dreariness” is why.
It wasn’t Neville’s fault that I came to him as damaged goods, as it were, and he made up for it by being very much in love with me.
Neville, like most beta males, thought if he could just swaddle her in sufficient plumes of love, she’d return the favor. But he had no understanding; you can’t love-trip a woman into reciprocal love.
I must say I always felt much more at ease with Neville than I ever had with John, but I had lost the ability to love in that passionate, all-consuming way.
“At ease.” That’s a telling admission. Yes, women feel at ease with beta males. And maybe that’s the problem.
CH Maxim #44: Women can’t feel impassioned without also feeling a little unease.
However, Neville and I got on famously from the start. Indeed, we are still good friends today — and often meet for a good natter. Neville became a monk several years ago but, to me, he’s still the same man I married.
Picture now fully clear.
Act 1: Exhilarating but excruciatingly short-lived sexual fling with aloof alpha proto-emo.
Act 2: Heart broken in part by adherence to unrealistic expectations formed in the crucible of womb-wracking orgasms with said alpha male.
Act 3: Temporary soothing ego relief obtained on the tear-stained shoulder of a quasi-homosexual beta male with advanced sympathizing and listening abilities.
Act 4: Half-hearted marriage to said beta, made palatable by subconscious realization of fading looks and enticement of low risk domestic settling serenity strategy compared to high risk staying single and seeking reenactment of passionate love plus long-shot alpha male commitment strategy.
Act 5: Spend several decades secretly reminiscing about the five minutes spent with a brooding alpha ex-lover while beta hubby putters around the house, none the wiser.
Act 6: Divorce. Ex-husband becomes a monk after realizing his marriage was a sham and real passionate love will never be his.
Act 7: Write a book about the alpha male ex, claiming to be over him and empowering other women to do the same.
He did not shake the world in general, but he certainly shook mine — and sad to say, he still does, 15 years after his death.
Act 8: Diddle the dusty bean to harder orgasms over the distant memory of a dead alpha male ex-fling than those ever experienced in thirty years with a beta male husband.
After reading a story like this, delivered from a woman’s point of view, you’ve really got to smirk at those guys who diligently peruse social survey data and subsequently conclude that number of children is the sine qua non of alpha maleness. Using that metric, the beta hubby in this woman’s life was the alpha male. But does it seem to you she thought the same about him, the living ex-husband who got half as many mentions as the dead 50-years-past fleeting lover in her article? Or does it strike you as more accurate to conclude that the man she had no kids with, but with whose ancient memory she nevertheless nurtured the progeny of a million wistful regrets and the self-release of a million limbic caresses, was the real alpha male in her life?
The above question should suffice as rhetorical, but, comically, there are those who need the lesson scrawled in neon marker on their eyeballs.
I could use your help. Actually, this is probably more in Athol’s domain, but his answer wouldn’t be as entertaining as yours and he might be kind of judgmental.
More judgmental than this blog? Impossible.
Two years ago I caught my wife of four years having an affair. At the time, I knew nothing of game… I was a Beta schlub. It was my broken-hearted “what do I do now” that led me to your website, which of course changed my life. I forgot about my self-pity and hit the gym. Then I bought some new clothes. I learned to play the guitar. Now when my wife mentions her former lover (she has contact with him through her job several times a year) the contempt for him is evident in her voice. Things between us are far, far better than I expected they would be at this point. But… (you knew there was a but, didn’t you?) there’s still something not quite right. Our sex is frequent but only “pretty good.” She is always willing to “put out,” but it’s, well, putting out. She doesn’t have the enthusiasm for my cock that she had when we were first together.
Sounds suspiciously like sedative sex — that is, the obligatory, unexciting sex that married women offer as Damegeld to their gelded provider husbands during the three weeks the wives aren’t ovulating. The purpose of this dreary sex is not to sate her desire but to soothe her husband’s anxiety and keep his cashmoney coming. It’s the “give the dog a bone” life history strategy.
I probably would have been happy with our sex life, but for one thing: I got a girlfriend.
:applause:
And the sex with my girlfriend makes me realize just what is lacking in the sex with my wife.
Self-reporting surveys (wink, wink GSSers, u know I luv youze no-homo-ly) which purport to show that married men get more sex than single men miss two very important confounding factors: the quality of that sex, and the variety of sex partners. Single men may have less regular sex than married men, but when the (alpha) single men do have sex, it’s volcanic. And a new adventure every time. Because no matter how much you love your wife, there will come a time when her snatch loses its sheen. This is the curse and blessing of being a (non-manboobed) man: never satisfied, always conquering. Or dreaming about conquering.
My GF, unlike my wife, is very enthusiastic. She swallows my cock like she’s starving. She fucks me like it’s the last fuck she’s ever going to get.
You are the alpha male to your girlfriend, and the beta male to your wife. More proof, as if any more was needed, that beta maleness and alpha maleness are largely contextual, and that marriage inexorably betatizes even the most alpha of men.
Maybe I should just be happy.
Take the honey and fun.
Have ‘duty sex’ with my wife, and fuck my girlfriend for fun.
Does that sound so bad? Traditionally, there was a tacit social expectation that husbands would avail themselves of sexual outlets in the downward spiraling years of their wive’s attractiveness, but that they would remain loyal and duty-bound to their wives regardless.
But it occurs to me that a little preselection and dread might ignite a fire in my wife’s pussy.
I’m trying to figure out how to plant the idea in my wife’s mind that I might be having an affair.
You won’t need to plant any ideas of your threatening omnipresent desirability if your affair has been going on long enough. Even given a total lack of hard evidence, most wives have spidey-sense that guides them to the correct conclusion about cheating husbands. She will smell it on you, notice it in your gait, and hear it in the renewed firmness… of your voice. Not to mention, a husband getting his sack drained on the side generally doesn’t have much left over to service his contemptibly familiar wife. Ask yourself first if it’s *your* apathy that’s the cause of your uninspired marital sex life. If it is, and you sincerely want to reinvigorate your marriage, then you should think about dumping the mistress.
But if your wife is the one dragging her feet into the bedroom, then a program of dread will help enliven her lust. Dread is supposed to be a feint, a rope-a-dope. It’s not supposed to be a flare for a team of divorce lawyers. If you are actually balls deep in an affair, drawing attention to your second life is not what I would call a smart marital move. Not in this day and age.
Of course, since I am actually having an affair, I have to walk a fine line.
Yours is a strange scenario. Most men I know who are cheating on their lovers don’t need to go the extra mile to provoke anxiety and doubt about their fidelity. It’s all they can do to keep their affairs under wraps, and their primary partners in the dark. The dread is self-evident.
I want to give her enough of a suspicion to light a fire under her, but not so much that she hires a private investigator or starts hacking my email accounts. I want her to feel a bit of suspicion, without her actually getting enough evidence to confirm the suspicion.
Ok, I’ll give you some advice. But know that you’re flirting with distaster. Have you forgotten that there’s a third party involved? Your mistress might not stay wisely silent. Women have a devious tendency to “oopsie, I said something I shouldn’t have.” You can open the can of dreadworms but just make sure to cover your tracks. Your wife and your lover should not know anything important about each other, and should never be in the same zip code together. You wanna deal with bunny broilers?
What say you? Is this something that can be done? Or should I just be happy with wifely “duty sex” and wild girlfriend sex?
Readers will note that for purposes of discussion, I assumed this email was sincere. There is certainly a strong whiff of the troll about it, but it’s useful as a lesson for other men who are reading who may be in similar circumstance and aren’t lying about it.
You can learn a few things by doing this. Is her sex drive revved up with you during that glorious one week when her egg sojourns and she craves the cock? Then the rest of the time she might just feel anxious about her marriage, but at least she still feels raw attraction for you. You should consider that it’s a lack of your beta male reassurance that’s responsible for her withdrawal.
Worse, is she colder than usual during her ovulation? Then her attraction is waning, and she’s probably thinking about other men. You need to pump up the alpha.
2. If her sexual iciness is a result of her weakening attraction rather than her strengthening anxiety, then a dollop of dread will do the trick. “Accidentally” leave an email or IM account open, so that she will stumble across an anonymous message which you will hand craft to send from a dummy email account to sound like it’s from a woman who’s flirting with you, but who hasn’t yet received a reply or encouragement from you. If you’re worried about her hiring an investigator, then preempt her doubt. Don’t wait for your wife to confront you about the message. When you get home, exclaim, “Oh look at that, I left my email open. I bet you got an eyeful honey! Yep, you did. Any suggestions for dealing with a co-worker who’s got the hots for me? This chick won’t take no for an answer.”
3. The objective is to maintain your innocence while stoking your wife’s insecurity. This means the hints must be extremely subtle, (unless your wife is clinically retarded). A fan favorite is calling her from a busy place that has a lot of young women giggling in the background.
4. Don’t bother entangling your real mistress in this subterfuge. Too risky. But if you decide you want to taunt divorce theft, try an indentation of a condom on your wallet, sans condom. Or a tucked-away business card from your mistress (strictly business, you see). Or you can go the full Don Draper and take your wife to a social event where you know your mistress will be in attendance. Flaunt your wife, flirt with your mistress across trays of hor d’oeuvres. There’s just something very manfully satisfying about manipulating a quasi-harem in this way and cheating discovery.
Submitted by a reader, subtitled “New Year’s Eve, 1969″.
This photo, besides being awesome, is also subversively illustrative of sexual dynamics and of how we are evolutionarily wired to react in a standardized way to simple body language cues for information about potential competitors and potential mates.
What’s your first thought? If you were like most men *and* women, you autonomically assigned the value BETA to the man snuggling into his woman for a feeding, and the value ALPHA to the man sitting up with his woman nestled in his chest.
Take a moment to digest your subconscious reaction. Never mind that we don’t know the actual status of the relationships for these two couples. Ask yourself why, instead, you felt the emotions you did. And why what you felt is so similar to what everyone else, including manboobs and feminists, felt.
The characters in this snapshot of sexual polarity are similarly dressed and similarly attractive. Even their facial expressions — sleepy, passed out (perhaps), and neutral — don’t tell us much. The only real difference is the posture of each person. That’s what the viewer has to go on to make his instant assessment of each person’s sexual market value. And yet we don’t hesitate to assess; nor do we grope for the right assessment. It jumps out at us.
And what is that assessment? One man’s relationship is going up that escalator. The other man’s is going down.
PS Looks like a bunch of fun-loving ruffians slip n’ slid down the escalator’s fast track and got painfully acquainted with its metal protrusions. Not that I would know anything about pulling such stunts.
Why did this dude move out of the way and let his girlfriend get hit by a homerun ball? Mincing beta? Yes. Better answer: his girlfriend is chubby. Men don’t feel inspired to gallantly sacrifice for low value fat chicks.
Among college-aged women,approximately 40% of rape victims report continuing to date their attackers (Wilson and Durrenberger 1982; Koss 1989).Women’s positive expectations for a relationship correlated to self-blame and reduced anger in response to coercion (Macy et al.2006).
Brutally ugly. Brutally anti-feminist. Amanda Marcuntte’s forested dickclit just shot a venomous dart at the heart of the world. Now why would peak nubility chicks dig rapist jerks so much so that nearly half of them find ways to rationalize their continued relationships with these ur-assholes? The study offers an intriguing explanation that is in line with Chateau teachings:
A morally troubling prediction of Smuts and Smuts’s [ed: heh] hypothesis is that use of sexual aggression may be effective in continuing a male’s sexual access to a female.
Science comes around to vindicating not just the milder Chateau truths, but the uglier, darker, beastlier Chateau truths as well.
***
Ex-leftoid admits what guests of Le Chateau knew all along: Leftoid whites hate their own culture and are engaged in a long-running, simmering status whoring war with struggling, non-SWPL whites. Prediction: the leftoids will not like the fruits of their cultural victory.
***
The Obama Administration has deleted a Bureau of Justice Statistics webpage that detailed some uncomfortable truths about race and homicide. You thought 1984 was hyperbole. You thought wrong. No, really. You thought wrong.
… The present study performed a meta-analysis of studies of the IQ of visually impaired children and adults. The results of our analysis demonstrated that visual deprivation showed no effect on the average IQ scores of a severely handicapped group, and therefore it disconfirmed the cumulative deficit hypothesis … Further, the fact that the severely deprived environment of visually impaired has no impact on their average IQ score makes it less likely that the arguably less deprived environment of, for instance, Blacks in the U.S. or immigrant groups in Europe is the cause of their lower mean IQs. Our meta-analytically based study makes environmental causes of group differences in IQ less plausible and therefore genetic causes less implausible.
White privilege is a term that’s been thrown around a lot lately, mostly by manboobed, scalzied whites with sexual dimorphism issues. But what is white privilege, really? Here’s an answer that’s logical, reasonable, truthful, and admirably restrained.
(As long as the status jockeying, anti-white ruling class continues in their propaganda campaigns, CH will continue to keep its cruel shiv unsheathed, aimed at their black hearts.)
***
Ross Douthat, mild-mannered, powerfully-browed Cathedral infiltrator and pilferer of original Chateau ideas (sniffed with the utmost butthurtness), has a good post on the intersection between culture, class, growing gay marriage support, and the declining rate of marriage.
Liberal doubts about the past existence of a procreative grounding for marriage notwithstanding, there’s a general understanding that the combination of the sexual revolution, economic change, and shifting gender norms have altered the way Americans conceptualize marriage, what they expect out of the institution, and how it shapes their romantic and reproductive choices. […]
So we have this convergence, which is mostly middle America drifting toward upper middle class norms and ideas about marriage, and drifting away from the (mostly religious) institutions that preach a stronger connection between sex, procreation and wedlock. And here’s what’s striking: As middle American ideas about marriage have converged with upper class ideas, their outcomes have converged with the destabilized lower class. Middle American divorce rates and out-of-wedlock birth rates tracked with the college-educated until the 1980s; they’ve been converging with high school dropouts ever since. A generation ago, it seemed at least plausible that 21st century America would have two (relatively) stable marriage cultures — one upper middle class and more socially liberal, one lower middle class and more socially conservative. But in the current generation, the upper class’s values have triumphed, and the lower-middle marriage culture has gone into steeper decline.
Well worth reading in full. But would it kill Douthat and others of his ilk to mention who precisely was the source of these and similar ideas now percolating through the betastream media organs? Yes, I suppose it would kill him. Or at least kill his job security.
***
Segueing from Douthat’s column, here’s Vox riffing on an interview with actor Jeremy Irons, who said that “same sex marriage could lead to fathers marrying their own sons to avoid inheritance tax.”
I’d always assumed that the primary problem was that once it is decided that marriage could not longer be limited by sex, obviously it could not justly be limited by quantity either. But, as Irons has correctly perceived, merely removing the sex limit is sufficient to produce a truly perverse set of incentives.
Polyamory’s Box is open. Per Douthat above, the redefining of marriage from a procreative institution to a soulmate/”capstone”/love ideal (one reason for the upper class trend of egregiously expensive proposals and weddings) will inexorably redirect marriage down the path of the logic of love. If you love it, the state will let you marry it.
Love two women, and two women love you? Married! What’s that? You’re not a fan of polygamy? Equal rights!
Love your daughter in that special way? Married! What’s that? You’re not a fan of incest? Anti-love bigot!
Love your cat? Married! What’s that? Bestiality not your cup of tea? Regressive moral throwback. Don’t you know only fairness and harm are legitimate grounds for a state-sanctioned morality?
You laugh, but the logic is inescapable, and immune to legalistic legerdemain. As one anonymous wag put it, “This isn’t the slippery slope. This is Splash Mountain.”
Now personally, I don’t care about same sex marriage. Its allowance or banning has no effect on the eddies of my life, because I have always been aware that love doesn’t require signing on the dotted line. But as anti-marriage as CH has been, we must respect the Dark Enlightenment argument that the redefining of marriage as a secular social status sacrament certifying Pure Love and Flush Stock Portfolios will have far-reaching negative consequences. Marriage as an equalist wet dream means, in reality, single moms and bastard spawn as far as the eye can see. Plus, perhaps, dads marrying sons for the tax break.
***
What is the “Cathedral”? It’s high time Le Chateau gave credit where it’s due, to a one Mr. M. Moldbug. In shortened form, the Cathedral is the sum total of the American entertainment, media, academic and government industrial complexes, staffed, led, and filled out to brimming by hordes upon hordes of self-annihilating, snarky leftoids propagandizing their infinite lies to their masters in the belching hells.
Cathedral, meet the Chateau. Le Chateau proprietors, escort the Cathedral to the Hall of Endless Wounding and introduce its degenerate apparatchiks your guest of honor to The Shiv. Beautiful Shiv, sparkle for your Lord. Plunge deep, and carve the mewling id from your foes.
Reread the title of this post. Love is not the most dangerous emotion. (That would be pride, followed closely by jealousy.) Love is the most dangerous word.
How so?
Because the word is pregnant with so much covert meaning. Because its utterance can mean the end, or the beginning, of a romantic adventure that spans years or decades.
Examine the multitude of ways the word can be spoken, intended and interpreted within a romantic context.
– A beta male (or beta female) speaking it incessantly in hopes of convincing or guilt-tripping an ambivalent partner to commit more deeply to the relationship.
– An alpha male (or alpha female, but typically less often encountered) declaring his love in hopes of convincing himself that his fading feelings are a mirage.
– An alpha female perfunctorily burping the word at her beta provider boyfriend during the one week of her monthly cycle when she finds the thought of sex with him repulsive.
– A normally aloof and emotionally distant alpha male or alpha female using it unexpectedly as an expression of repressed guilt for cheating or thinking about cheating.
– A beta male exclaiming love to the heavens, blind to any lack of reciprocation from the woman he loves, because he is overjoyed with his own ecstasy.
– A beta male never saying the word because he is afraid it will drive away the woman he loves. If he is thinking this, his intuition is probably true.
– Two lovers wrestling as one, ejaculating the word in a climax of sincere, unfiltered, honest passion.
– A beta female saying it to an alpha male during post-coital cuddles, misconstruing his lust energy for love energy.
– An omega male professing love to his couch crease knowing his feelings can’t be repudiated.
Don’t proclaim your love first. Give your woman that honor.
Don’t whore your joy. Women love higher status men, and one condition of higher status is a temperate eagerness and gratitude.
Don’t give away your emotional store. A woman appreciates a man who understands her need for anticipation and slow discovery.
A few broadly applicable suggestions for beta males and how to tame the most dangerous word would be these:
When you feel like declaring your love, stop, take a mental breath, and save it for another time.
When you declare your love, check yourself, and don’t say it again. Once is more than enough.
When your declared love has gone unanswered, don’t push for resolution, explanation or emotional deliverance, however much you want your fears allayed. Ignore the momentary rejection and bide your time. Some women will reply in kind days or weeks or even months later. If she doesn’t, you have your red flag. Start thinking about escape and renewal.
Don’t drop the love bomb immediately after you’ve dropped your jizzbomb. Women never — NEVER — believe the word to be sincerely expressed in a post-bangal glow. At best, she’ll be abstractly flattered. At worst, she’ll conflate your insistent love with your desperate lust for her body, and conclude your horniness guides your emotions. You will be weakened in her judgment as a result.
Here is my advice to alpha males regarding the use of the L word:
You will have to remind yourself to say it once in a blue moon. When you do, make sure it’s at the most inappropriate (i.e., in public) or unexpected (i.e., while she’s standing at the kitchen sink) times. She will swoon forever.
All cocky and no sincerity makes Jack a predictable boy. Either be passionate and real, or admit that you don’t really love your woman like you think you do.
If you are saying it a lot after sex, you are probably trying to convince yourself of feelings you don’t have. Enlarge your harem, and thereby reduce the amount of time spent on each lover. Absence breeds aphrodisia.
