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Reader Mailbag: Abandonment Protocol Edition

Oct 23rd, 2012 by

Email #1

A father seeks advice on how to helpfully navigate his daughter past badboy shoals:

My daughter has just turned 16 and has a throng of suitors persuing her (she’s easily a high 8, inherited the best feminine mix of traits from a Chinese mother & white father). However, I have no illusions about the id that lurks within her & it’s susceptibility to aloof assholes.

My question is what can I do as a father to reduce the risk of having some smirking lowlife with tight game (Like Josh Camacho from the latest ‘Chicks Dig Jerks’) ruining my daughter for a legitimately high-status husband or having his bastard whelp become my grandchild.

One word: belittle.

Remember, you are still the ultimate alpha male in her life. The pinnacle of authority. Does the ultimate alpha sweat challenges from upstart alphalings? No. He laughs them off. If you get to feeling that she’s drifting into a crowd of jerks and nah boys, you react like you would if you were her alpha male boyfriend: tease her for her childish taste in men. Tell her, “I think that boy (always use the term “boy”) with the dorky tattoo has a puppy crush on you. He gets so tongue-tied around you. Maybe you can teach him how to speak like an adult?”

If the wigger tool ever winds up at your house, that is your opportunity to humiliate him in front of your daughter with extreme prejudice. You want to plant the seed in your daughter’s head that her asshole suitor is lame, nerdy, stupid, humorless, immature, gullible and, most disparaging, cowardly. She won’t appreciate your intervention, but, like a toddler hearing a new word and repeating it days later after it has sunk in, the slanderous seed will have germinated in her brain and poisoned her puerile love for the prick, eventually driving a hypergamously-lubed wedge between them.

I understand your fear, though, because a daughter succumbing to a worthless layabout’s charms is just about a father’s worst nightmare come true.

My advice to would-be fathers: pray you have all sons. That way if they get their fuck on, you will feel proud instead of panicked.

Email #2

A reader requests break-up advice:

Do you have any suggestions for breaking up with a girlfriend that give you the upper-hand but without being too hurtful to her?

She is of almost a year, a nice girl and pretty sensitive. There’s probably no easy way to do it, but don’t want a rep as a cheater or anything like that. (I’ve already cheated on her anyways but don’t want to be known as that)

Any suggestions would be much appreciated. thanks

It’s (almost) impossible to both initiate a painless break up with a girl and retain the upper hand, if by “upper hand” we mean awesome alpha maleness. As long as she doesn’t want the break-up, she will be hurt, no matter how delicately you deliver the news. The only surefire method for breaking up with a girl that leaves her feeling relieved rather than hurt is to go Full Metal Beta over the course of a few months, until she’s sick of your mewling.

Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: [sniffing] Holy Jesus! What is that? What the fuck is that? WHAT IS THAT, PRIVATE BOYFRIEND?
You: Ma,am, a scented poem, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: A scented poem?
You: Ma’am, yes, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: How did it get here?
You: Ma’am, I wrote it for you and watermarked it with my tears of joy.
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Is a scented poem supposed to make me feel better?
You: Ma’am, yes, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Are you thinking I want to have sex with you because of this scented poem?
You: Ma’am, yes, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: And why, Private Boyfriend?
You: Ma’am, because it’s proof that you are my world, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Because you are a disgusting cloying beta, Private Boyfriend, I DO NOT want to have sex with you!
You: Ma’am, yes, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Then why did you try to write this poem for me, Private Boyfriend?
You: Ma’am, because I was seeking your approval, ma’am!
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Because you were seeking my approval… [grabs her phone to show Private Boyfriend all the texts from aspiring suitors]
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Private Boyfriend, you have dishonored yourself and dishonored the male gender. I have tried to drop hints. But I have failed. I have failed because you suddenly decided that supplicating betatude is what I needed, despite all fucking evidence to the contrary. So, from now on, as a show of proof that your way is the way of failure, I want you to read this text conversation I had last night with a man who understands me the way you used to. Notice the part where I thank him for letting me puff on his peter. [shoves phone in Private Boyfriend’s face]
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: Are you feeling ill yet?
You: Ma’am, does this mean we’re broken up, ma’am?
Gunnery Sergeant Hamster: You’re goddamned right this means we’re broken up, maggot!
You: [phew]

This will work, but you sure won’t feel like you left with the upper hand. My suggestion, if you want to dump her using less manipulative tactics while sparing her feelings as best you can, is to tell her that, although you love her in many ways, you never got over your ex-girlfriend, and you recently met her and fell in love again. For whatever reason, girls are more forgiving of rifts caused by the return of an old love you have nursed for years. It hits their romance buttons.

Or just announce that you’re gay.

Email #3

A college student wants to know why the sex is drying up:

I’m a Senior college student who has been in a great relationship for 9 months.  The past two months my gf has often not been in the mood.  What do i do? getting denied drives me crazy

1. She’s recently gotten in touch with an ex-boyfriend she still likes.

2. She recently met, however innocently, an alpha male who pushed all her buttons.

3. You’re turning Betanese.

4. Some combination of all the above.

Without more info, I can’t tell you which of those explanations is relevant in your case, but the cause of her sexual withdrawal is most likely one of those reasons. My advice: Begin abandonment protocol. Women value men who are mysterious and scarce; your job is to give her that little reminder that you can’t be taken for granted. A calculated disappearing act should do the trick. Double down by being seen by her in the company of other women.

Whatever you do, DO NOT beg for sex, in any manner. Sticking around like an underfed puppy dog waiting on table scraps is a guaranteed way to reduce your attractiveness to zero.

Email #4

Somewhat long-ish reader request to analyze his game:

I went to a bar I never go to in order to see a band I really like tonight. I had a great time, and afterward I was busy talking to a friend and he encouraged me to go talk to some girls. I was drunk, so I felt more confident than usual, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do it since I’m so inexperienced at cold approaches.

Then a girl I haven’t seen much of since high school came up to me. She’s very attractive and thus is very used to guys hitting on her, so I knew if I was going to make it happen I would need tight game. We talked for a few moments, I initiated some physical contact and then I let her wander off to see her friends. My friend gave me a pep talk to go back after it. After getting my mind in the right place and ordering another drink, I wandered upstairs to see if I could locate her.

I went onto the balcony and she was in a large group comprising mostly people I know from high school but haven’t seen in a while. They invited me to join the group. I was a loser in high school, but I feel that I did very well tonight putting up the image that I’m confident and secure in myself. It was probably the alcohol, but it taught me how I should be most of the time.

I was in the group for a while and engaged the different girls individually, knocking each off their pedestal and emitting an aura of dominance. These are the girls that require negs, and I made effective use of them. I was on my game for 95% of the night, but I might have screwed up in the end by showing too much interest in the girl I’m after. To be fair, this is a high-quality girl that requires a flawless performance, and I feel like I would have definitely been successful if it had been someone of lower quality. I was feeling it tonight, but I might have screwed up a bit. I’m inexperienced at this sort of thing but I would have never imagined that I would have been as confident as I was. Regardless of how this situation works out, it’s a building block for my game.

Toward the end, when the girls said they were going to another bar, I attempted to stop the girl I’m after. Since our high school isn’t too far away from where we now attend college and she generally attends high school football games and such since her mother teaches there, I asked her if she’d be at homecoming next weekend (we’ve been out for three years now — we’re both 21). She said she thought it was last week (a definite lie) and started to walk off and said that she would come back to this bar later. I told her to “wait just a goddamn minute” and stomped out my cigarette and followed the group inside. I tapped her on the head from behind but she ignored me.

Her (smoking hot) friend stayed behind as they walked off and engaged me. Conversation goes as follows (using a neg I pulled from a PUA site, possible this one but I can’t remember):

Me: “Is she always like this?”
Her: “What’s she being like?”
Me: “Well, she’s kind of being a bitch. Tell her that it’s not too late to enroll in charm school. I hear that’s making a big comeback.”

Her group left, and I promptly bounced instead of waiting around to see if they’d come back. I have a feeling that they didn’t, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to be the chump that sat around waiting or followed them to the other bar. I got in my car and drove off.

So, how should I proceed from here? I’m hoping her friend gave her my message. I usually don’t get too much into PUA philosophy but it was needed here as I was punching way above my weight. All in all, even if I did fuck up, I did way better than I could have imagined.

I know that it’s preached in PUA circles that if you need advice on how to pursue a girl that you won’t get her, but I’m going to try to play this one out to the end. Can I salvage this?

Don’t depend on a girl’s friends to “deliver” your tight game her. She has to be there in your company, hearing you spit it. If anything, calling her a bitch to her friend is going to make you look weak and insecure as it winds its way through the female grapevine, which is, as if it needed saying, utterly out of your control to influence as an outsider to the group.

I don’t know if it’s salvageable with the girl you really want, but her lying about not knowing the date of the homecoming tells me that she probably thought you were trying to slyly insinuate yourself into her homecoming plans. I don’t think it looks good, because I’m not seeing any signals of interest from her in your retelling of the night’s events. You should mack her friend, instead.

Email #5

A reader asks:

Would definitely appreciate your thoughts or a post on good/funny lines to reopen texting that dies down. Have a great weekend.

Non sequitur game.

Email #6

A reader wants to know where he dropped the balls:

Hey, I love your website and I have learned a great deal from you. Can you give me your input on something? I’m very confused. I’ll try and keep it short.

I’ve been hanging out with this girl about once every other week for a couple months. We have slept in the same bed multiple times (no sex…every time I go for her pussy, she pushes my hand away.) we have made out, spooned, messed around, pretty much everything except sex.

She invited me over and she cooked dinner for me a little over a week ago and we always split the bill when we go out.

At dinner she told me she gave her ex a second chance, but he never changed and is the same person so she is done for good with him. And she went to the fair with some guy that puked on the ride with her, and she has been ignoring him since Then she asks me if I have met any cute girls lately (shit test?).

I texted her Sunday night and she never replied. I haven’t talked to her since she made me dinner over a week ago.

When I first met her I was a huge dick to her, buying everyone drinks except her, etc. She was really into me. But I have started being nicer to her lately and I think that is why she is losing attraction for me. Her last Facebook status said “It seems that I have a thing for men who are from Scotland, Ireland, and London… Maybe I wasn’t meant to live in the U.S. because I can’t seem to find a guy that compares to men from Europe.”  Her ex is Scottish.

Tell me where I went wrong here, was it because I turned down the asshole vibe?

You, sir, are a train wreck, and your spilled cargo is a debris field of beta. First, NEVER platonically sleep in the same bed with a girl you desire. The bed is sacred. The bed is enthroned. The bed is where your kingship is ratified. The bed is where the penis meets the vagina. Or at least some orifice that is a reasonable facsimile of the vagina.

Multiple times you have lain next to her in bed, your balls filled with unexpectorated sperms? Multiple times she has pushed your hand away, taunting you like a cat might paw at an injured mouse before delivering the killing bite? On top of all this slander to your manhood, she casually regales you over dinner with tales of the ex-boyfriend she obviously still loves? (Don’t let her precise words to the contrary fool you; a woman who mentions an old lover out of the blue still pines for him.) And finally, the shiv strikes soft underbelly when she asks if you’ve found yourself a nice girl.

Can’t you see what’s going on here? I’ll just cut to the chase. You are the classic betaboy emotional tampon. An asexual lump who listens like a champ, restrains his sexual urges with stoic mastery, and feeds her need for self-esteem.

She has never “seen you that way”. Something happened over that last dinner that scared her away. Probably you said something which revealed a hint of your animal desire for her, something which crossed the invisible line demarcating the friendship zone she thought was operational, that jolted her comfy world where the two of you are cute little cartoon friends without sexual organs who talk girl stuff all the day and night, and with whom she can unload her issues she has with jerks who know how to make her pussy quake.

My final judgment: lost cause. Excise her from your life like she’s a tumor, because that’s exactly what she is, an emotional tumor sucking nutrients from the manlier portions of your viscera. Yes, you most likely blew it when you turned to the Nice Side, somewhere between the time you stopped gunning for her pussy to instead “hang out” in perpetuity, and the time you voluntarily bedded with her without the usual payoff that most men expect from such intimate arrangement. Accompany an alpha male friend to hit on girls, to help get your head screwed on right.

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Viking Game In Female Porn

Oct 22nd, 2012 by

A book in the genre of “historical fiction”, (meaning, I suppose, that the authoress did some casual researching of the time period she’s writing about before letting her hamster roam wild and free), is a great example of literature as female porn. From the book description (h/t Randall Parker):

For as long as Arienh can remember, her Celtic people have feared the deadly Viking raids. She knows their brutality first hand, having lost the men from her own family and village to their swords. When she encounters and wounds a Viking warrior one stormy night, she has every right to want him dead. Instead, she allows him shelter in her cottage. Although she fears him, his confidence and teasing manner give her pause. He acts as if she belongs to him. As if he knows her.

Ronan didn’t expect Arienh to recognize him. Why should she? They were both just children when his uncle forced him into a raid against her village. But Ronan risked his life to protect the young Arienh from his marauding kinsmen. Now that the time has come for Ronan and the other warriors to choose wives, he has returned to claim the beautiful girl who captured his heart so long ago.

But for men accustomed simply to taking what they want, wooing the courageous, headstrong Celtic women is easier said than done. And for Arienh, who always sacrificed her own happiness for the sake of her people, trusting—and loving—a Northman may be impossible. By turns poignant and humorous, Loki’s Daughters is a stirring tale of unlikely lovers, forged in dangerously opposite worlds yet bound together by sacrifice, strength, and undeniable passion.

If you listen closely to a woman — very closely, to the subtext between the lines, and to the details that trickle from her when she’s giving her inner voice an unrestricted outlet for expression — you will catch glimpses of the true nature of her sexuality. Fleeting shadows of raw desire that flit in and out of awareness, both hers and yours. Invariably these subconscious resurrections all point in one direction — women love to be seduced by dominant men. They dream of submitting to entitled men who confidently claim rights to their quarry. The brutality of Viking violence yields to the mind capture of Viking game, apparently, in the minds of women of the vanquished tribe. This pattern — of women of defeated tribes quickly acquiescing to the rulership and the sexual privilege of the conquering men who slew the women’s brothers and fathers and husbands — is seen all over the world, and has likely evolved to preserve the female reproductive prerogative.

In other words, treacherous disloyalty of convenience is an inseparable part of female psychology. It is bred in her nature, and appeals to logic will do nothing to dislodge or amend it. The only god woman obeys is the god of WINNING.

Randall asks:

Have you considered writing some of these books? You might be able to get rich off it. You could push more female buttons per page than the average woman writer manages.

It’s a good question why more men don’t write romantic pulp fiction (aka female porn) for profit, under a female pseudonym if necessary. I guess men aspire to greater accomplishments in life.

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Manly Men Confused Why Unmanly Men Get Girls

Oct 19th, 2012 by

Commenter aspic writes:

[W]hile i’m on the subject of [Neil] Strauss: he’s a metrosexual who comes across like a slimy worm. These are exactly the kinds of men who are inheriting the high positions in our society. See also: Obama.

I don’t know if Strauss comes across like a slimy worm, having never met him, but if video and pictures are accurate he does dress and comport himself with an urbane flair that violates traditional manly men norms. Strauss’ success with women using game and a deep understanding of female psychology reminds me of a quote from the anti-feminist prophet, Anthony Ludovici:

Among the vices of woman, “constantly characteristic of her,” [Ludovici] enumerates “(1) Duplicity and an indifference to truth; (2) Lack of Taste; (3) Vulgarity; (4) Love of petty power; (5) Vanity; and (6) Sensuality.”

If manly men want to know why unmanly men can outscore them in the sexual market sweepstakes, they need look no further than Ludovici’s stunning insight into the character of woman. The unmanly man, no leader of men he, can reduce women to puddles of swoonage because he drinks from their bottomless well of vanity, he lies to them prettily, he trades in the currency of sensuality, and, most importantly, he appeals to women’s “love of petty power” by exploiting relative social status differentials in microcosm. He is, in short, a leader of women.

This is how the manly men are outgunned. The manly man’s refusal, born of pride or disgust, to sink into the insufferable torments of the child-like, capricious, feckless world of women and frolic in it as if it were his own world leaves him exposed atop his hill, strong and dignified and self-righteous, to the cunning shamelessness of the unmanly man absconding with the women languishing under his paternal gaze.

Our current time — the decadence and silliness preceding the painful fall — is perfectly suited to the strengths of the unmanly man. He rules in this nebulous miasma that was once a culture. The manly men will have their day again, when the fall has swept away the last illusion and the weak are revealed uncompromisingly for what they have always been, but until then the manly men yield to the awesome power of the metrosexual with a nasally voice and a penchant for spinning riveting stories which may or may not be true.

This post Hugo Schwyzer approved.

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Comment Of The Week

Oct 18th, 2012 by

The Man Who Was…. opines:

It is one of the saddest facts of life that you only get to bang hot girls once your ability to appreciate them has decreased.

For health and longevity reasons, I have decided to try and be less cynical about humanity, or at least to welcome a bout of deliberate self-delusion once in a while as a soul restorative. But it’s hard… so very hard. The cold fish of reality never stops slapping one in the face.

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Merci

Oct 18th, 2012 by

It occurs to me and the other occasional writers here at Le Chateau that a proper show of gratitude was not forthcoming for those readers who generously donated to the Chateau Heartiste coffer. How utterly gauche!So to make amends:

and a hale and hearty thanks.

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How To Inure Yourself To Beautiful Women

Oct 17th, 2012 by

A thinking sort of reader writes:

The hedonistic treadmill concept says you’ll get reduced satisfaction from expanded consumption as you adjust to it. You won’t appreciate a Ferrari if you drive one everyday and the same applies to a steak dinner.

When I’m on a winning streak with girls, I feel they all get less hot. I find myself turning my head less often. I see pictures of girls that I thought were flawless and I see flaws. I find myself thinking about other areas of my life. Conversely, when I’m not longer with a girl, and I go into a slump, I find my ex was hotter than I remember.

Girls can definitely tell when a guy is not impressed. I read football practice is often harder than the real game. I’m not sure we’ve invented a way to expose normal guys to beautiful women the same way that Tom Brady and Brad Pitt are exposed. Strippers, porn, movies, etc don’t work since they all work to raise the woman on the pedestal. [ed: correct. there’s good exposure and self-limiting exposure. alpha males are exposed to women’s desire. johns and gawkers are exposed to women’s mercenary indifference.]

I’m thinking a picture gallery of women as they age, or a picture gallery of models without makeup might be a good start.

Definitely something to this. While filet mignon will always taste better than ground chuck, and a hot girl will always be a better lay than an ugly girl, the pleasure that can be extracted from the tastier choices will, with enough familiarity and dopamine receptor scorching, succumb to diminishing returns. (Although it will never bottom out as low as the scant pleasure one receives from cheap cuts of meat or girls.)

The blowback from dopamine-blasted beauty immunity is that all women, even the ones you aren’t fucking, start to seem less desirable, or at least less worthy of sustained effort to earn their interest. And this is how ecologically self-perpetuating alpha males are made:

Maxim #12: The cumulative experience with hot women imbues the womanizer with a genuinely aloof aura that attracts even more women to him.

Corollary to Maxim #12: If you don’t have an adequate amount of aloofness-inducing experience with hot women, act like you do.

Think about when you were, or how you are now, comfortably ensconced in a secure relationship with a girl. Objectively, she’s cute. When you first saw her, your heart leapt upward in sync with your cock.

But damn if you don’t espy
that as the days tick by
your wandering eye
roves wide as the sky.

In graphical form, this is known as the Beauty Power Law, and it looks like this:

Beauty immunity is real, and it affects every man, relative to his beauty capture starting point. That is, a low value man will quickly tire of low value women if he manages long-term relationships (or long-term consecutive hook-ups) with those low value women he fears he is fated to match. He will still want hot chicks, but the additive experience with unattractive chicks will create in him an aloofness toward all unattractive chicks that is similar in psychological composition to the aloofness a high value man will feel for the hot chicks he routinely bangs and even the ones he hasn’t banged.

THIS IS A GOOD THING. That aloofness is catnip to women. You may as well prop a neon sign over your head that says “Preselected by women who have come before you, and who are standing right next to you.” Aloofness is one of those male characteristics that women are finely tuned to discover, isolate, and hone in on, because it tells them, subconsciously of course, that THIS MAN, this one right here, has a lot of choice in women. ERGO, this man, this one right here, must be high value.

I can attest to the tangible effects of the beauty immunity power law. When I’m in a solid relationship, or when I’m on a hot streak dating multiple concurrent or consecutive women, then all women in general start to feel more approachable, less insurmountable (heh), and, tragically, less tolerable. The effect of familiarity with females and their foggy furrows is a steady glazing of my perception of their beauty, until they seem as if their faces are an indistinguishable mass of downy cotton balls. Worse, the tolerance, even enthusiasm, I would have just talking and spending idle time with women yields more frequently and submissively to competing distractions, like reading alone, hanging with buds, pursuing hobbies, or elevating my status for a potential trading-up of lovers. Her charming little tics I loved during the first few months soon become swarms of buzzing annoyances, and my mind begins the unstoppable drift to ELSEWHERE.

THIS IS A BAD THING. That transcendental stirring rocketing up from the groin and ricocheting off the sternum when you first set your post-pubertal eyes on hot high school girls weakens in proportion to your success bedding them. The bloom on the rose wilts with too much fertilizer.

But enough of that sentiment. The fact remains that inuring yourself to beautiful women, and to beauty itself, will make you a more lethal ladykiller.

So how do you expose yourself, as the reader suggested, to beautiful women such that they hold less power over your faculties and their flaws are more evident to your senses?

1. Bed a lot of them.

Guaranteed to work, and that’s why it’s the most difficult solution to the beauty immunity puzzle.

2. Train your mind away from pedestalization of female beauty.

Remember Poon Commandment X?

X. Ignore her beauty

The man who trains his mind to subdue the reward centers of his brain when reflecting upon a beautiful female face will magically transform his interactions with women. His apprehension and self-consciousness will melt away, paving the path for more honest and self-possessed interactions with the objects of his desire. This is one reason why the greatest lotharios drown in more love than they can handle — through positive experiences with so many beautiful women they lose their awe of beauty and, in turn, their powerlessness under its spell. It will help you acquire the right frame of mind to stop using the words hot, cute, gorgeous, or beautiful to describe girls who turn you on. Instead, say to yourself “she’s interesting” or “she might be worth getting to know”. Never compliment a girl on her looks, especially not a girl you aren’t fucking. Turn off that part of your brain that wants to put them on pedestals. Further advanced training to reach this state of unawed Zen transcendence is to sleep with many MANY attractive women (try to avoid sleeping with a lot of ugly women if you don’t want to regress). Soon, a Jedi lover you will be.

Starting today, stop flattering women’s looks, whether out loud or in your head.

3. Get into a line of work where you are ordering beautiful women to do your bidding.

If you can’t get sex with hot babes, the next best thing is authority. Fashion photographers are not known as casanovas for nothing.

4. Hang out with hot girls when they’re wasted and pissing themselves and vomiting.

This is a pretty good cure for one-itis. Don’t worry about supply. America is churning them out like cheap factory products lately.

5. Never stop macking.

The life of the lady’s man is always in forward motion. The day you slow down is the day you start misremembering your ex as hotter than she really was. By keeping women forever in your orbit, by hitting on them day and night and year after year, with intention or without, you remind yourself of the corporeal, earthly nature of women’s greatest asset, of their insufferable and dispiriting interchangeability, and your heart is steeled for the endless battle.

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Posted in Girls, Guy Rules, The Pleasure Principle | Comments Off

Women Love Aloof And Indifferent Men: More Proof

Oct 16th, 2012 by

A new website, hetexted.com, is a gold mine of confirmation for the validity of game concepts. Girls post screenshots of their text conversations with men they like (or in some cases, don’t like) and ask the studio audience what it all means. The readers then vote on whether the guy in the text messaging conversation is into her, not into her, or the verdict is still out.

Ever wonder what kinds of guys make girls go crazy with anxiety, desire and romantic hopefulness? Wonder no more. It’s those “bring the movies” aloof assholes. A perusal of the Hetexted website, and its overwhelming majority of text convos that feature laconic men and needy women, pretty quickly proves the old maxim that chicks dig inscrutable jerks, or at least chicks dig guys who don’t fail the Jumbotron test. The hilarity of girls falling over themselves trying to ascertain how much love this or that guy who wrote a “nah” or an “aweee” or a “bring the iphone car charger” has for them is fun the whole family can enjoy.

Even better are the site’s readers pleading with the girls who submit their badboys’ hieroglyphic texts for public decoding that the guy in question is “playing a game” and is “no good for her”, which naturally is only going to serve to deepen the girls’ infatuations.

(It’s funny that, compared to men who only need to look at a woman to know if they’d like to date her, women need a team of advisors to tell her whether a guy is worth fretting about. It’s almost as if women have sexual impulses at odds with what they claim they desire. Wait… they do!)

For a sterling example of the Jerkboy Jumbotron genre, check out this one. (Girl’s replies are on the right.)

Underneath the screenshot, she wails her plaintive plea.

…SO NOW I’M WONDERING?
ok so…i like REALLY like this guy. we have a great connection, and i’m really falling for him. i really want to get to know him better but he is always so busy with work and lives thirty three miles away. should i move closer?? i think this could really work out but i dont want to move all the way out there and have my heart broken. thoughts??

“Great connection.” “I’m really falling for him.” “I want to get to know him better.” “Should I move closer?” “I think this could really work out…”

Nah.

And with that, another ten thousand niceguy, date-paying, considerate, chivalrous, white knighting, hard-working, emotionally available, respectful, attentive beta males face-palmed.

Moral of the Hetexted website: Do not chase girls. Make girls chase you. It’s the only way to be sure you’ll get the lay.

One tried and true method to make a girl chase you is to speak (and text) in mysterious monosyllabic code, to avoid early emotional entanglement, and to act like there are another twenty women lined up outside the door to service your autocratic cunt carver. In other words, to do the exact opposite of everything feminists, women in general, and your mom tell you to do.

Perhaps Bring the Movies Man, Skittles Man, and Nah Man should get together for a book reading of their collected wisdom. It will be precisely three words long. Afterwards, the flush-faced girls in attendance will spend three hours dissecting those three words and shifting inconspicuously in their seats.

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When The Handicap Principle Is Just A Handicap

Oct 15th, 2012 by

The Handicap Principle, or what is known in layman terms as conspicuous consumption, is an important biological hypothesis that explains why the males of some (most?) species have evolved costly status signaling displays. The idea is that a high fitness male demonstrates his high status to females by showing he can afford to waste resources on, for example, showy plumage or sport cars. It is objectively better for the male’s survival to not have heavy plumage that could make escape from predators more difficult, or to save money for future contingencies instead of waste it on an expensive car; yet, males of different species will often acquire these presumable maladaptations or waste resources on nonessentials because sexual selection exerts a force equally as powerful as natural selection.

So goes the theory. In reality, the theory bumps up against a wall.

You can’t get much more handicapped that that, unless you were limbless and genital-less with a concave forehead.

People open to the ideas of evolutionary psychology sometimes forget that nature operates within a system of checks and balances just as free markets and republics (putatively) do. The Handicap Principle helps explain some odd evolved male traits in species, but nature is always ensuring that the evolved handicap never gets too far out of control. Because when that happens, it’s no longer a status signal; it’s a real handicap that will repulse women or get you killed.

Game and the Handicap Principle have a rocky relationship. Handicapping yourself — a la Mystery with his furry hats and Victorian coats — is a great way to signal high status, IF you have compensating alpha male traits. Mystery has those compensating traits; specifically, his height, his grace under pressure, and his renowned game ability to handle the inevitable female shit tests and seamlessly escort women through the stages of seduction.

If, on the other hand, you are short, ugly, nerdy, insecure and without any game at all, dressing like Mystery is apt to backfire. Your calculated self-handicapping will not be a signal of confidence and high status, but an actual handicap that makes your job of getting laid harder than it need be. For you, the appropriate level of self-handicapping would be something along the order of uncommon shiny cufflinks or a gaudy ring. Just enough to incite curiosity in women, but not so much to banish yourself to the realm of weirdos.

Maxim #55: The degree to which you handicap yourself in an effort to signal high status to women should be commensurate with your game expertise and your confidence level.

The more confidently you can pull off showy clothes or an asshole attitude, and the more effortlessly you can deflect the shit you will invariably get from others offended by your ostentation, the more the Handicap Principle will work for you instead of against you.

Keep in mind, as well, that Mystery’s fraught couture is a game tactic in itself, designed to provoke reactions from women that allow Mystery to demonstrate his alpha prowess through his unperturbed handling of those reactions. You should welcome shit tests from women, because that means you have aroused interest in them. Mystery’s garish dress is a short cut to coaxing those much-valued shit tests out of women. But you need unshakeable confidence bordering on delusion to successfully pull it off, which, in my observation of fledgling PUAs, most men practicing the dark art of pickup don’t have in sufficient quantity.

For the average man who has leapt above the fray and grasped that important sex differences in psychology exist and thus interactions with women require a different toolkit than conventional wisdom offers, the Handicap Principle will be most relevant to him during the comfort stage of seducing a woman into bed (or into a longer-term relationship). In CH parlance, this is known as “vulnerability game“, and it is vital, in small doses, as a quasi-handicapping game technique for strengthening emotional connections with women.

Signaling that you possess beta provider potential is a powerful bonding glue to women who are at heart creatures of duality seeking the best of both alpha and beta in men. But since alpha is in rarer supply and harder to acquire, and since beta comes naturally to most men and is easier to acquire, the trick to finding the right balance is to emphasize your alpha while leavening it with droppings of beta. These beta droppings are the equivalent of handicapping yourself with costly displays of provider plumage and emotional vulnerability. They will only work when you have already established your attitudinal alpha male seed-cred.

If you haven’t established that alpha seed-cred, your beta droppings will go over like an elephant’s dung heap, because they won’t be droppings so much as “more of the supplicating same”. This is why women love to feel like they have to struggle to get a man to admit his emotional core, and dislike having men dump a bucket of their emotional core all over them. As women perceive it, the struggle is an irrefutable sign that the man is non-needy, has options with other women, and will give her the challenge she subconsciously craves.

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Hookup Men Vs “For-Real” Men

Oct 12th, 2012 by

Ah, the knee-slapping never ends when two feminist spinsters on a fast track to wall collision gab about their dating exploits and using men for either fun or profit. Naturally, their window for “using” men in any fashion is rapidly closing in lockstep with the degree of their drooping flesh, so any gchats that conspire bewteen these pitiful specimens often provide hours of voyeuristic entertainment watching what amounts to this:

Is anyone else down for a good, old-fashioned soul flaying? I know I am!

Chatting About Hookups and “For-Real” Dates with Sex Writer Tracy Clark-Flory

By Amanjaw Marcuntte

After reading Tracy Clark-Flory’s Salon piece from Saturday extolling the glories of traditional courtship, I knew I had to talk with her in more depth.

Clark-Flory’s (never trust a woman with a hyphenated name) swan song to her sexy and vital youth is basically an admission against interest that her high flying, alpha cock carouseling 20s are over and now that her sexual market options are dwindling she has to settle for boring dates with beta herbs who promise they will stick around like office fixtures instead of bolt while she’s coming off a multiple orgasm. Naturally, she hamsters this as a paean to the glories of “traditional courtship”. What’s the scientific term for this cognitive function? Oh yeah… making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Tracy, who has been writing about sex and relationships for years, often in defense of the casual hookup, expressed a more nuanced view of the entire situation,

“nuanced” = deluded.

explaining how her increased interest in taking-it-slow, more formalized dating

“increased interest” = panic.

doesn’t, in any way, mean that she thinks that a past of more casual hooking up was the wrong choice.

The odds of divorce for a woman go way up the more partners with whom she has premaritally casually hooked up. Clark-Flory needs to think with more clarity.

Her take really cuts to the heart of what so many pro-sex feminist commentators have been trying to say for years about dating and sex, so I grabbed her on Gchat yesterday to talk more about it.

What follows is a beautiful digital mutual clit diddling wherein two mangy cougars assert they can have their cake and eat it too.

Amanda: I really liked your piece on going on a for-real date.

Tracy: This was literally my first for-real date ever.

What a catch! You know men — or should I say, desirable men with options — just love throwing tons of money and time and sexless dates at has-beens who spent their prime pussy years hooking up for free with men who agreed with them that dates were an unnecessary nuisance.

Tracy: Well, I should be clear: I’ve online dated. I’ve gone on dates. But most often they’re presented super casually. Like, hey, “Let’s hang out.” This was the first time someone clearly said to me: I want to take you out on a date, and here is the plan. Typically, whether it’s with “hang out” dates or hookups, it’s very low-investment—emotionally, financially, you name it.

A man will invest only as much as is required to get in a woman’s pants. Clark was obviously a pump and dump stock in her 20s who’s now trading for pennies but acting like a tech IPO. You know who invests in loser companies? Suckers.

Tracy: Right. I think it’s great that people can get to know each other casually. Grab a burrito and a beer! Make out at the bar! But it’s also nice to not feel totally stuck with diminished romantic expectations—as in, I can’t expect more than a taqueria “hangout” arranged last-minute via text message.

You should have thought of the danger of diminished romantic expectations while you still had the goods to entice worthy buyers. PS Having a history of being a big fat slut is not exactly an advertisement that you’re marriage material.

Amanda: That’s something I’ve noticed that a lot of friends complain about since I’ve moved to NYC: They think a lot of guys are just a little too eager to keep it casual. Which makes me wonder if it’s just that now that I’m in my 30s, my friends are developing higher expectations, or if it’s a geographic thing, where men in Texas, where I used to live, were more serious from the get-go?

No, it’s just that now that your female friends are in their 30s, and looking even more like fuzzy Chinese Crested versions of Samantha, they’re desperate to get hitched before the god of biomechanics cruelly escorts them to spinsterland, where cats compete with noodly beta males for their attention and the men they really want peer around them like they’re annoying houseplants obstructing the view of hotter younger tighter women.

Although it is a refreshing change of pace to see cathedral mascot Amanjaw give redneck Texas men a shout out for their chivalric wooing. I guess SWPL manboobs are finally grinding on her? (Double entendre intended.)

Tracy: I think both are probably very real factors! For me, at least, “hookups” have been a great way of getting to know myself, getting to know other people and getting to know what I want, romantically and sexually.

Hilariously self-serving cliché. How many penises does she have to straddle to get to know herself? Does the penis imbue some sort of special “consciousness raising” enlightenment once it has parted the labia? Should high school guidance counselors tell graduating girls to hop on a cock for career advice? I bet Clark has no trouble, being a member in good standing of the feminist cooperative, explaining to her acolytes that women require penetration by erect penises to discover the strong goddess inside them.

Now, personally, I think that a good rogering does help clear a woman’s head, but I’m not sure feminists would be happy to hear that from me.

But as I’ve gotten older—how I hate that phrase—I’ve wanted a broader spectrum of romantic scripts. And that’s when the hookup/low-commitment default became frustrating.

“broader spectrum” = loosened standards. “romantic scripts” = hiding her slutty compulsions. “hookup/low-commitment default” = couldn’t get a high value guy to stick around. “frustrating” = pumped and dumped.

Amanda: I think that’s what I really liked—your high regard for diversity.

Gabba gabba hey.

It’s not that hookups are bad, you said, but that they seem mandatory.

When all you have is a lack of options, the world looks like a mandate.

Why do you think it got to that point?

Gee, I dunno… age, attitude, obliviousness?

Tracy: I can at least speak to my own experience: I think I gravitated toward casual hookups during a time when I wasn’t quite ready for more serious commitment. I needed some time to play and experiment.

It’s all fun and games until no one wants to play with you anymore.

I think many people feel that way in their 20s.

There’s a reason why, historically, women were encouraged to get married before they hit 30. People used to be wise to the fact that women can easily forget how little time is on their side.

Amanda: That’s something that really was brought home in Hanna Rosin’s Atlantic piece about hooking up. She spoke to researchers that said that women were driving the culture as much as men, in no small part because, frankly, boyfriends can get in the way of other goals like getting your career underway.

Higamous hogamous
man is polygamous
hogamous higamous
woman is oblivious.

Amanda: A lot of people still buy the line that it’s something that men impose on women, that men are taking advantage of women’s, uh, “easiness”.

Well, men won’t exactly look a gift whore in the mouth.

That always bothered me, because there was never really a clear line for me between how quickly you slept with someone and whether or not it turned into wuv.

Here’s a clear line for ya: The hotter you are, the more quickly it will turn into wuv for the man, the other party involved in the interaction.

Amanda: Your point was really satisfying,

“Thank you, I needed that.”
– Ego

which is that what we really need is the ability to diversify: hook up if we want, go slow if we want, just do a bunch of different stuff depending on where we’re at.

Feminists, and women more generally, hate the idea of judgment and of consequences for their actions. They want to slut it up, take it slow, hook up, hang out, drag it out, do the woo, and try a bunch of different stuff without the judgment of men or other women cramping their uteri, and without worrying about the consequences which might ensue as a result of their panoply of choices. This is what is known in the literature as a fantasyland: a wonderful place in the puffy white clouds where human nature doesn’t exist and actions don’t cause reactions, except those reactions that the feminist dearly desires, which desire is subject to change at any given moment depending on the feminist’s whim.

But reality, so ugly in its clunking machinery, has a different plan for such utopian fruitcakes. Women *will* gossip unfavorably about sluts because those sluts represent a mating threat to their interests. Men *will* push for sex faster, and avoid commitment more studiously, with women they perceive as slutty. Sluts really *do* have tells that experienced men can clue in on. Cockteasers really *do* risk losing alpha males if they drag out the waiting period for sex too long. Aging, unfeminine spinsters with hairy chins and cheese grater attitudes really *will* have to settle for less desirable men than they could have gotten when they were younger, better looking and more docile. And hamsters really *will* spin their wheels more feverishly the higher the pile of delusional self-medicating lies grows.

I think that sort of thing causes a lot of men anxiety, though. I’ve noticed a lot of men in online spaces clamoring for a script.

Nah, that’s just you noticing that men are noticing your stupidity.

Tracy: Yes! There’s anxiety now about falling back on the more traditional dating script (which is not an entirely bad thing, mind you).

Can you blame these men? I’d be anxious too, if I had to traditionally (i.e., sexlessly) date a woman I knew gave it away for free in the past. And maybe present.

I think it feels too desperate, too eager to many young men. And, of course, intimacy and vulnerability have always been absolutely terrifying.

Why do feminists assert nonsense that intimacy is terrifying to men? Answer: it’s a female-friendly response that explains in elaborate mental calligraphy why they can’t keep a man around for more than a few ruttings, conveniently sidestepping the role that their physical unattractiveness might play.

Men are terrified of large, charging predators, like bears or lions or drunk fat chicks. They are not terrified of showering your overworked vagina with their warm seed. Get some perspective, will ya?

Amanda: Did you go on a second date with flowers guy who wanted to do nothing more but make out on the first date? Do you mind my asking? (I’ve been in a relationship for over six years now, so other people’s stories are my entertainment.)

The parameters of her… relationship… must be unique. Try to imagine the epic manboob who would have to settle for Amanjaw for six years, and then try to picture how long a normal man, such as yourself, would be willing to listen to her insane yapping.

Tracy: Actually, we’ve gone on something like five dates in a little over a week!

Lessee… guy wants to do nothing but make out on the first date. Clark dismisses his rapist effrontery by going on five more dates with him in the span of a single week. The femborg will be disappointed to hear this.

Tracy: Yes! It’s incredibly refreshing. And a large part of it is that I’m ready for that for the first time in my life, you know?

We know, Tracy, we know. You’re ready… because you have to be ready. That door won’t stay open forever.

It’s not like I’ve been yearning for that this whole time and have only now found a guy willing to give it to me.

Funny how you suddenly yearn for the self-abdicating loving lovingness of a desperate beta willing to lap your weirdo feminist shit when your expiration date is coming into focus.

Amanda: LOL yeah, that strikes me as an incredibly critical point.

Strike while the ego is exposed.

But that really leads to the question I know a bunch of men are asking themselves, which is how do you know what script a woman is interested in?

You misspelled “how do you know what script a hot woman is interested in?”

How do you know if you should keep it light or show up with flowers and a request that you take it slow?

False dichotomy. A man can keep it heavy and fast, too. In fact, that’s the best way to get a woman into bed, if you’re needing a script that has a high success rate.

Worst script: Pre-sex flowers. Never do that, at least not with women who still have more than a few eggs left in the chamber.

Tracy: Well, see, I think timing is so much of it. It really isn’t something that can be faked.

Oh rilly? I’m pretty sure in the history of the world there were more than a few men who successfully faked long-term romantic intentions to get speedy sex.

You can only do what you’re ready to do.

Bromide pie to the face.

If you want to bring a woman flowers, do it.

Hey, you can do anything you want, but that doesn’t mean it’s an advantageous course of action.

If you want to have casual flings, do that.

What if Clark’s flower guy decides during week number two he wants a casual fling?

Eventually you’ll find a lady who wants the same thing.

A lady now! How polite of you, madam. Will a Furry who likes to masturbate into soft bunny costume velour eventually find a lady who wants the same thing? What about a Bronie? A street flasher? A serial killer?

Oops, scratch that last one.

Amanda: That’s something I think gets lost in the overflow of dating advice out there, which is that it really is something you can figure out for yourself.

Then why the hell are you flapping your gums? And more relevantly, why the hell do media outlets continue giving shell entities like yourself a publishing platform? Mysteries of the universe.

Allow me to cut a serrated swath through this post-gender, social constructivist swamp muck. Amanjaw Marcuntte and her ilk absolutely hate men in the abstract and loathe unrestricted male desire. They work tirelessly for a world, however ultimately fruitless the endeavor, where female sexuality is free to roam wild and unjudgeable and male sexuality is straitjacketed, regulated, restricted, demonized, ridiculed and made obedient through law or eunuch alliance to female, particularly feminist, caprice. This is modern, critical theory feminism in a desiccated ovum. It’s a farce, but the bigger joke is that media organs happily provide advocates of this farce a forum to dazzle their awomen choruses.

Her’s a little slice of truth… just a little mind you, enough to qualify as hope and change but not so much to entice pointing and sputtering… for the Slate and Salon crowds and the Clark-Flory-Hamster-Hi-I’m-A-Useless-Self-Gratifying-Hyphen contingent:

There is no difference between hookup men and “for-real” men. The men you skanky, aging broads want “for real” are the hookup men who weren’t interested in the same thing you wanted back when you had more to offer. So you dropped your standards and unilaterally declared the more pliable men willing to play by your newly-discovered “traditional cougar courtship” rules the “for-real” men you claim you always desired.

That hatetalk is drawn from real world observation. Mine, and the collected wisdom of millions of men like me. Now, if you don’t like common sense derived from real world observation, then you can always turn to science, which has a funny habit of frequently confirming what we can all see with our lying eyes, and of debunking cherished feminist narratives.

“Under the hormonal influence of ovulation, women delude themselves into thinking that the sexy bad boys will become devoted partners and better dads,” Durante said. “When looking at the sexy cad through ovulation goggles, Mr. Wrong looked exactly like Mr. Right.” […]

“When asked about what kind of father the sexy bad boy would make if he were to have children with another woman, women were quick to point out the bad boy’s shortcomings,” said Durante. “But when it came to their own child, ovulating women believed that the charismatic and adventurous cad would be a great father to their kids.”

“While this psychological distortion could be setting some women up to choose partners who are better suited to be short-term mates, missing a mating opportunity with a sexy cad might be too costly for some women to pass up,” said Durante. “After all, you never know if he could be the ‘one.’”

If you didn’t get that, what it means is that women want their alpha hookups to turn into “for-real” men, but, unlike Clark’s assertion that she’s the one making the choice in which men she considers “for-real” dates, it’s actually the men (coupled with her desperation fueled by her rapidly closing attractiveness window) who are indirectly deciding for her which of them she’ll have to settle with in happily “for-realness” after.

Yes, the hookup jerks chicks love are also the jerks chicks wish would stop dicking around and CHOO CHOO CHOOSE them.

If you are a man, the lesson is obvious:

Do you want to live free as a hookup man with the option to convert to a “for-real” man, or live knowing you’re the backup plan as a “for-real” man with no option to convert to a hookup man?

I think I know which man most men would prefer to emulate. But don’t tell it to Clark-Flory. She might ask you out on five straight dates in the same week after your tongue has been down her throat wooing the shit out of her.

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Great Scenes Of Game In The Movies

Oct 11th, 2012 by

A reader forwarded a scene from the movie As Good As It Gets, featuring a suave and somewhat caustic Jack Nicholson meeting Helen Hunt for dinner. The reader writes:

Here is a scene from Nicholson’s all time classic “As Good As It Gets” (spoiler, please don’t watch this if you haven’t seen movie, better to watch it in movie)

Even though it is on screen, it’s great! It’s all about him yet she felt so good.

Do you think Jack’s body language is like a true alpha?

Here’s the video. I do think it’s a great demonstration of alpha body language and game in action, but of course this is Jack we’re talking about. The man bleeds alpha, in role and in real life. Commentary below.

0:24 — “Should I get her for you?” “No, that’s OK. I’ll just watch.” This is a glimpse into the inner world of the alpha. He’s going to take his time, just watch, move to her slowly, like a predatory big cat. No one will rush him. No one will disturb his mojo. When you think this way, your actions and behavior will follow suit. I don’t go in for new agey motivational stuff very much, but it’s true that forcing yourself into positive thought patterns will impact how you behave. There is a reinforcing feedback loop that runs from your thoughts out through your body and voice and vice versa. And studies have actually proven this phenomenon: when you assume alpha male physical poses, you feel more powerful and take more risks.

0:28 to 0:54 — The alpha male walks slowly to his prey. When he’s sure that she’s seen him, he doesn’t rush up to her like most betas would; he stops at a distance and allows the moment to percolate with blissful anticipation, which women LOVE LOVE LOVE.

1:03 — COME HERE. That hand wave is supremely alpha. Again, most beta males would have rushed over to the girl when she happily waved at them. An alpha accepts her wave, and shits on her expectations by motioning her to come to him. SHe is now sliding off her seat at this point, and no words have yet been exchanged.

1:04 to 1:48 — There’s a lot going on in this half minute that could befuddle the average man, but Jack stands rooted to his original spot when he first made eye contact with Helen Hunt. The king rarely approaches; the king is approached.

1:50 — She almost slips and says he’s “sexy”, but catches herself and dilutes her compliment a bit. The importance of this scene rests in his reaction; arched quizzical eyebrows, followed by a warm smile. What’s alpha here is not what is done, but what is omitted; he doesn’t latch onto her flattery like a needy beta who can’t believe his luck. He just accepts it and moves on to another topic.

2:02 — Showing a little bit of chivalry won’t kill you as long as you are alpha in all other ways.

2:10 to 2:20 — “You wanna dance?” “Well. I’ve been thinking about that since you brought it up before.” “And?” As she’s getting up from her chair assuming he meant he would like to dance: “No.” When you defy women’s expectations, you electrify their pelvic easements. Plus, this was damn funny.

2:24 — This is what we in the industry call a nuclear neg. Note: NOT recommended for newbs, or most any man really. There is a line where a neg, even an unintentional one, morphs into a blatant insult, which can crush a woman’s ego so thoroughly her shame shuts her down to further gaming. This is why Jack has to console her and, in his own alpha way, make amends. Helen Hunt is cute, but she’s no hard 10 club slut begging for abuse, so the nuclear neg worked against Jack.

2:44 — Notice that when Jack is quasi-apologizing, he never says “I’m sorry” (“I didn’t mean it that way” is the closest he comes to saying sorry) and he never stops delivering commands to her. “You gotta sit down. You can still give me the dirty look, just sit down and give it to me.”

2:50 — She demands he pay her a compliment. This sets up an alpha reply perfectly, because at this point her expectation that he will either say nothing or ramble stupidly or compliment something about her beauty are cemented firmly in place. The beta male would abide, ultimately disappointing her. The alpha male would do what Jack does next.

3:10 onward — He really takes his sweet time getting around to formulating that compliment. When a woman says “jump”, the beta male jumps. The alpha male ties his shoelaces and does a few warm-up stretches before accosting the ref about the rules of jumping and the distance he’s obliged to go. That is, when he feels like jumping.

3:25 — A good way to tease a woman is to overly dramatize your suffering and sacrifice that you do for her. Jack rubbing his hands and his forehead, and furrowing his brow because paying her a compliment is so tough, is just the kind of playful drama that chicks LOVE LOVE LOVE.

3:32 — “Can we order first?” This is the first time he up-ends her expectation. When his defiance crows thrice, she will be in love.

3:38 — Yelling across the room to place your order: alpha. This is the second time he defies her expectation.

4:05 — Helen: “I’m so afraid you’re about to say something awful.” My friends, you WANT to hear this line from a woman. You know why? Because it means you’re INTERESTING to her. INTRIGUING. And that’s a beautiful foundation for love sex and intimacy.

4:10 — “Don’t be pessimistic. It’s not your style.” General game note here: girls love it when you make a comment about what is or isn’t “their style”. To them, it means you’re connecting.

4:15 — “Clearly a mistake.” The Bill Clinton non-apology. Coming soon to a horde of admiring female fans near you.

4:20 — “I’ve got this.. what.. ailment.” He launches into a seemingly irrelevant story about himself that does not begin with a compliment for her. This is the third time he defies her expectation, and now the stage for love is nearly set.

5:15 — The payoff. Was it a compliment about her looks? Her eyes? Her generosity? Her dancing skills? No. It was a nebulous compliment about her that centered on himself. Why did she love it so much? Because a woman LOVES LOVES LOVES the thought that she is the one, the only one among all women, who can soften a hard man, coax him into her embracing redemption, and persuade him to turn his back, at least for a little bit, on his wild and independent and intemperate and free range masculinity.

Of course, she would be disappointed if he ever did such a thing in totality, because that would mean he’s no longer the project she can fix, the untamed thoroughbred she can break. He’d just be a lapdog if he ever acceded fully to her claimed demands and desires. This is something beta males don’t get about women; they do as their women tell them, and they never stop paying for their obedience.

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