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Did Obama Have Game?

The fate of the world may hinge on whether Obama was once a lady slayer. Commenter Sp5 writes:

Based on this article about the judgment of his ex-girlfriends, Obama did have game, at least in his early years:

“In one diary entry from February 1984, Ms Cook – a girlfriend for more than a year – noted that in their relationship “the sexual warmth is definitely there – but the rest of it has sharp edges”.

She recalled “feeling anger” at Mr Obama, whose “warmth can be deceptive”. Foreshadowing a criticism often levelled at the President today, she said: “Though he speaks sweet words there is also that coolness”.

. . . . In another entry, she wrote that there was “so much going on beneath the surface, out of reach,” adding that Mr Obama was “guarded, controlled.””

If this woman’s recollection is true, it’s definitely evidence in favor of Obama having once had game. (I say “having once had”, because the First Linebacker seems to have beaten it out of him.) The description of Obama’s attitude — c.f. his state control — shares similarities with that of alpha males and charismatic men. Many womanizers are affectionate and sexual, but keep a psychological arm’s length between themselves and their quarry, which of course motivates the women to chase the men for more commitment and love. If you were wondering, this is a good position to be in as a man, because it allows you to call the shots.

Naturals and alpha males, in fact, are more apt than are niceguys and beta males to objectify and compartmentalize women. Yet, to listen to feminist complaints, you’d think the exact opposite was the reality. But that’s just because feminists in particular, and women in general, are constitutionally incapable of admitting the truth about the contours of their sexual desire.

My personal theory about our hope and changer is that the burdens of his intrinsic duality and loneliness that all racial halfies must bear, and the especially painful bitterness that abandoned sons of deadbeat fathers and emotionally distant mothers nurse their whole lives, eventually won the battle with his easygoing cool side, subsuming his game charms under a thin veneer of barely concealed seething resentment and racial solidarity mongering (it’s human nature to want to feel part of a distinct group, and this is doubly so if your group membership cred is questionable). Nevertheless, hints of Obama’s game survive to this day, mostly in the way he has mastered the art of mirroring — pretending to listen to people and regurgitate their thoughts even when he thinks differently. Obama is a cipher, and ciphers are often some of the most devastatingly charming ladykillers.

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Why Women Have A Sixth Sense

Women don’t literally have a sixth sense, but they do have better intuition than men, if casual observation is to be believed. (Readers may correct me if I’m off-base, but I think there have even been studies purporting to show that women do have a more finely developed intuition than men, or that women lean on their intuition more than men lean on theirs.)

If we take it as a given that women are more intuitive, then we can offer two plausible evolutionarily modulated reasons why this sex difference exists.

1. Women need to be better than men at screening out undesirable mate prospects, and intuition is a tool they use to accomplish on-the-fly screening.

Men are more visual-oriented than women, so men can see with a split second glance which women are worthy of their seed and which aren’t. Women, on the contrary, require many input variables to determine a man’s worthiness as a mating partner, including, in great measure, his personality; so women have evolved a preference for intuition — molded by eons of accumulated genetic wisdom — as a guide to help them filter out beta males from alpha males. (Or lesser value men from higher value men.) This intuition is what allows a woman to uncover, through the mechanisms of gut feelings and subconsciously formulated sly psychological “tests”, a man’s strength, character, attractiveness to other women, and ability to take the heat without melting down. Her hamster gets a tingle for the man who passes through her intuition filter, and she responds by physiologically opening up to him.

2. Women need to be better than men at averting and resolving relationship trouble, and intuition is a tool they use to identify early warning signs that the relationship is foundering.

A woman is honed like a machine to be a first responder to relationship crisis. She uses her intuition to pick out subtle nicks in the relationship armor that could grow to chasms if left untended. Women’s attractiveness window for landing a desirable mate is shorter than men’s attractiveness window, so a woman who has invested some months or even years into a relationship will have more to lose than the man should the relationship fail. A man can more easily pick himself up and brush himself off for another go-round in the dating scene. Women therefore have evolved an exquisite sense for sniffing out warning signs that a man is losing interest, or that his love, and hence his commitment, is cooling. This is why men are perplexed when women bring up “problems” with the relationship that the men can’t fathom are worthy of discussion. And yet, women’s refined intuition for evidence of men’s emotional distancing has likely served their sex well over the millennia, helping her head off additional investment that would lead nowhere but to an older and unlovelier version of herself alone again in the mating market.

Men who have experience with a lot of women have acquired an astute awareness of women’s intuition, and have even developed their own to compete with women. Players have a preternatural ability to know when a girlfriend is drifting away, or a lover is about to cheat, or a date isn’t both feet in. They know better than less experienced men when to cut their losses and when to press on, partly based on their own refined intuitions and partly based on a better ability to manipulate women’s intuitive sense for both of their gains. This is why some of the best players beloved by women possess feminine acumen themselves. The alpha male leader of men who cares not for the emotional world of women often leaves the sensitive female cold, and finds himself playing second fiddle to the man who has absorbed female psychology and made it work for him.

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I’m not surprised by how many out-of-shape vegetarians waddle among us. Since most vegetarians are women, this means I’m not surprised by how many self-declared vegetarian women are dumpy. The media-pushed image of the slender vegetarian woman is far from the reailty.

Is it because fat women are more likely to adopt vegetarianism to lose weight? No. Fat women are more likely to continue eating whatever is put in front of them. The real reason so many self-righteous and putatively health-conscious vegetarian women are chubby is because they substitute their hated meat with a much worse food-based product: sugar.

You may as well call vegetarians “sugartarians”, or “pastatarians”. Spend any amount of time eating with a vegetarian and you’ll see that they don’t actually eat all that many vegetables. What they eat in place of meat is a lot of pasta, chips, noodles, rice, beans, cereal (oh lord, do they eat a lot of cereal), bread and pretzels. In other words, they have replaced an under-appreciated fat and protein source with an inordinate amount of simple, high glycemic carbs. Result: bloat.

Vegetarians should get off their high horses and realize that the pasta they shovel down their gullets is worse for their health and looks than the T-bone steak they claim is the root of evil and the gender pay gap. A healthy meat-eater like a paleo dieter probably eats more real veggies than a zealous vegetarian. And they look better, too. That suggests one tactic for moving the lemming sex away from a stupid status whoring trend: impress upon women how their sanctimonious diet is ruining their looks. They’ll stampede for the exits.

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A fairly common hater/game denialist shibboleth is the extrapolating from anecdote fallacy. For example, a well-respected herb in his community will find this blog, feel his beta ego fill with regret for years of missed opportunity, and immediately assert he is manlier and/or a more attractive and psychologically balanced individual because he “didn’t need these mind game tricks” to find a wife or girlfriend who loves him.

I don’t doubt that a lot of these anti-game haters are telling the truth as they perceive it. They probably didn’t need game, or more likely unwittingly used a greatly diluted version of game, to find and fall in love with a faithful (best not think otherwise) GF or wife.

Reasoning from anecdote is a logical fallacy, but there are enough of these assertions by game haters that it’s possible a statistically nontrivial number of men really did not need or use game, intentionally or otherwise, to get hitched. Therefore, discounting them automatically is not a legitimate counter-argument. There is a better way to expose their sham claims for what they actually represent.

Here’s the rub: it’s a good bet the quality (aka the sexual market value, or SMV) of their girlfriends or wives is on the middling to low end of the female attractiveness scale.

If you are the average man — average height, employed, no major physical or emotional deformities, able to hold a conversation without shitting your pants, don’t know what LARP means, can refrain from obsessively counting toothpicks that fall on the floor — then you won’t need game, or very much game as the term is commonly understood, to fall ass-backwards into long term relationships with plain janes, facial mediocrities, or chubsters (who, note, constitute the majority of American womanhood, and thus fall right in the middle of the fat (heh) part of the bell curve).

If you are this man, all you need to do to win over a woman like this — the average woman — is approach, say “hi”, chat a bit about her likes and dislikes, and show some persistence and you’ll get her in bed by date five or twenty. Voila!, an “I didn’t need game to land my wife” anti-gamer is born from the wreckage of his surrendered dreams. Since most average men are ball-less castrati, the majority of you anti-gamers are likely staying within your comfort zones and meeting only women who are not attractive enough to fuel inject your lust or challenge your risk-avoidance habits.

This is my working assumption, and I’m certain the types of guys who go stir crazy with spite at the mention of game are dating or married to dreary commonplace women they had little trouble “winning over” the lackluster, “show up on time” way.

So, to visually summarize, if the women you date or are married to are about as attractive as her:

or her:

…then, yeah, congratulate your virtuous self, you won’t need much game to score a date every two months that resolves in uninspired, tepid sex.

But if the women you date, or want to date, are as attractive as these girls:

…then you will need game. And a lot of it. Because, you see, hot girls have options, and options means they will demand more of the men who want to sleep with them and love them. And game, aka learned charisma, effectively satisfies that demand.

Or you can continue taking the path of least resistance and settling down in easy monotony with potato faces so that you can enjoy stalking pickup blogs and railing about the futility of game.

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Hugh G. Rection correctly notes:

Women basically want a monopoly on judgement. She can judge reject men as she chooses, but men are not free to reject/judge her or her choices, ever.

This is eau de feminism. The very essence of the grievance whore industry. The animating lifeblood of the degenerate freak mafia and crass SWPL status whores.

Freedom to judge for me, but not for thee.

And as if right on cue, here’s an indignant fat anchorwoman (meme alert!) spending four minutes of televised air time complaining about being bullied for her big beautiful womanliness by a viewer who wrote her a rather innocuous letter lightly chastising her for not trying to lose weight. (“There’re no bones in the ass, lady!”) Spot the irony: she judges the letter writer for being a “bully” while she herself should remain exempt from all judgment. I’ve got real news for ya, lady. You are a bad role model for young girls. Fatness is a character defect, and your inability to lose weight after years of television exposure is a stretch mark on your soul.

(I do like how the femcunt foot soldierettes tried to “out” the letter writer and discovered he is a muscular athletic bicyclist. Immediately they were robbed of hours of joyous but totally irrelevant ego assuaging snark.)

Runner-up comment winner award goes to Matt Parrott:

Before civilization added multiple layers of complexity, there were essentially two super-categories of humans:

Environmentally Selected Humans: These are populations which survived in low population deserts, rainforests, tundra, remote islands, and such. For them, the greatest obstacles to mating were freezing to death, dying of thirst, being eaten by a tiger, or whatever. They had relatively high testosterone levels, robust skeletal structures, and long penises. Why our common ancestor had a long penis is an important question which I’m going to set aside for now.

Sexually Selected Humans: These are populations which survived in the fertile temperate habitats, especially the major river valleys and deltas. For them, the greatest obstacles to mating were other males, increasingly intelligent and vicious males hellbent on killing you and taking your wife, mom, sisters, and daughters for themselves.

The human brain isn’t large enough to decipher differential calculus and program Facebook apps because that’s environmentally adaptive. It’s not. It’s environmentally maladaptive…a massive calorie sink, a nightmare for child delivery, and a huge vulnerability in terms of instincts becoming secondary to whichever abstractions are dumped into it.

It’s our anthropocentric vanity that lulls us into seeing environmental selection for intelligence as natural…despite common sense and the record clearly demonstrating otherwise. The only (and I do mean only) reason human intelligence exists as it does is as an instrument of male territorial aggression. The human male brain is designed by and for war. And human females have massive brains for the same reason human males have nipples.

Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about penises. I’m merely sketching up the background hypothesis so that the answer makes sense.

Male territorial aggression in the most fertile (and therefore populous) regions was ubiquitous before the transition to sedentary civilization, resulting in a chronic gender imbalance. While polygyny ensured that all fertile females would be mated with, neoteny and attractiveness determined whether a female would manage to mate with the most powerful (intelligent and therefore militarily successful) males.

The acute selection for neoteny and feminine attractiveness selects against testosterone and other “manliness factors”, including, incidentally and accidentally, male penis size. It’s one of those gender selection trade-offs, like how women who are busty have brothers with bitch tits.

1. The greater the percentage of temperate zone ancestry, the smaller the penis.

2. The more recent the temperate zone ancestry, the smaller the penis.

The final wrinkle with this is that Caucasians have rather recently stumbled across a series of adaptations which serve as misleading indicators of neoteny: white skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. This changed the equation, easing the selective pressure on the “master switch” of testosterone which was evolution’s only option for making Asian females more attractive. White females could retain the lantern jaws, broad shoulders, and other less feminine features because they had cheat codes which made them appear more feminized than they actually are.

The comment section on this renegade outpost of the internet may be more like a lunchroom food fight than a roundtable of erudite punditry, but one thing you can say about CH commenters is their willingness to tackle tough, impolite subjects with truly open minds. You won’t find gems like this one illuminating the pages of the Washington Trope or the NewYorkBetaTImes. Or National Review.

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What ho! Another scientific study ♥♥♥confirming♥♥♥ CH observations about the functioning of female sexuality? You bet!

Women with stable but not-so-sexy mates become more distant, critical during periods of high fertility.

Long after women have chosen Mr. Stable over Mr. Sexy, they struggle unconsciously with the decision, according to a new study by UCLA researchers who look at subtle changes in behavior during ovulation.

At their most fertile period, these women are less likely to feel close to their mates and more likely to find fault with them than women mated to more sexually desirable men, the research shows.

“A woman evaluates her relationship differently at different times in her cycle, and her evaluation seems to be colored by how sexually attractive she perceives her partner to be,” said Martie Haselton, a professor of psychology and communication studies at UCLA and senior author of the study.

Now where have we heard this before? Oh yeah. Here… and here.

Creeping marital betatude isn’t an on/off switch; it’s a viral agent that slowly, but inexorably, sickens your wife until she wants to get as far away from you as possible. Usually into the arms of a man who isn’t infected.

As usual, the Chateau is well ahead of the curve.

I really love these studies validating core game concepts because I know they cause the haters to blow steam out of their puckered sphincters. Haters seem to be under the delusion that science is on their side, so the bubble bursting is even more delicious.

If you aren’t tracking your wife’s ovulation cycle, and you’re a constitutional beta male who strongly suspects you won her over with your promises of stability and resources and her looming wall as your ally in love, you should act now. Because when that egg’s a-layin’, those players you despise are gonna have the key to her heart. And no amount of beta puling will pull her back from the brink. In fact, it will make it worse.

The good news, if you can call it that, should be a relief to cuckold fetishists everywhere.

Nevertheless, the negative feelings appear fleeting, and they don’t seem to affect a woman’s long-term commitment to her romantic relationship, the study found.

If your ego can emotionally weather the morbid sight of your wife swooning for guys with smooth moves, and perhaps cheating on you one week every month, your marriage should be good to go. Naturally, most men can’t tolerate that, so game becomes of paramount importance for keeping their wives or girlfriends maximally attracted to them, and not other men. I.e., to keep them in line. Because much of game is, in essence, learned charisma of the high status alpha male, your beloved boo can be… how shall we say?… massaged, or imperceptibly guided, to avert her focus from other men back onto you, during those times when she is most susceptible to the allure of competitor cock.

Through a series of high-profile studies, Haselton’s lab has revealed telling changes that take place in women’s behavior during ovulation. Possibly to increase the odds of attracting suitable mating partners, these behaviors include a tendency to dress up and to speak in a higher-pitched, more feminine voice and — in a potential inbreeding-avoidance mechanism — to refrain from contact with male kin. In addition, the lab has found that women whose mates are less sexy and masculine tend to be more attracted to other men during the few fertile days leading up to ovulation.

The more beta you are, the more you need game just to tread water with the woman you love. A woman who is shackled to a beta male is going to feel more powerful urges to copulate with an alpha male when she’s biologically able to conceive. It’s as if her body knows, somehow, that the man who provides for her and supports her and bores her to death is worthy of genetic obliteration. Aren’t women sublime creatures?

The researchers, who used a questionnaire designed exclusively for the study, found no significant change across the cycle in how the women perceived their level of commitment to the relationship or, at least initially, in their satisfaction with it.

What this means is that women unknowingly lie to themselves, and effectively at that. A woman’s evolutionary programming has ensured that she is shielded from conscious, spontaneous knowledge of the functioning of the worst of her biomachinery, such as her id-driven desire to be impregnated via infidelity with an interloper alpha male. An ovulating woman who has, seemingly inexplicably, begun nagging her beta husband or boyfriend, is not going to like to be confronted with the real reason why she turned into a raving bitch. If you were to ask this woman about her level of relationship commitment, of course she will answer that all is well, because to admit otherwise is to upend and potentially sabotage the ancient female sexual directive to amass both alpha fucks and beta bucks. And her genes would not like that at all. AT ALL.

But an exercise that required the women to rate how close they felt to their men yielded dramatic results. As women mated to less sexually attractive men moved from their least fertile to most fertile period, their closeness scores dropped one point on a seven-point scale. Women mated to the most sexually attractive men, meanwhile, experienced the opposite effect. As these women moved from their least to most fertile period, their closeness scores rose by a point.

If you are already an alpha male — either by fortune of inheritance or by grind of self-correction — then your girlfriend or wife will fall MORE in love with you when she is ovulating. She will go from pleasantly in love to lustfully in love. Yet more proof that there is no end to the ways in which being alpha is better than being beta.

The questionnaire asked the women to rate how characteristic such faults as being moody, childish, emotional, thoughtless and critical were of their mate.

The researchers found that women mated to the less sexually attractive men were significantly more likely to find fault with their partners and, again, feel less close to their partners during the high-fertility period than the low-fertility period. Women who rated their mates as more sexually attractive, meanwhile, did not exhibit these changes and instead reported being more satisfied with their relationship at high fertility than at low fertility.

When a man’s woman is being bitchy, the problem is him, but not in the way most men would think. Most men will promptly resort to DEFCUNT Level 1 Beta Supplication Mode to appease their harridans, thinking, wrongly, that their women are bitchy because they haven’t gotten enough signs of commitment and support from their partners. And who could blame these men for thinking this? When nagging, inconsolable women lob heat-of-the-moment accusations at their men, the accusations usually take the form of scattershot wails about one-size-fits-all conventional relationship issues that come straight from therapists’ hackneyed textbooks.

“You don’t care about me.” “You never listen.” “You don’t support this marriage like I do.” “You forgot to go food shopping AGAIN. How many times do I have to remind you?!”

So these beta men, quite reasonably, care harder, listen longer, support stronger, and buy enough groceries to fill a fat housewife’s appetizer plate. He reasons, “This is what she claims she wants, so this is what I’ll give her. And that should make her be nice to me like she was last week.”

In the meantime, the alpha male is now on his fifth year of forgetting to go food shopping, and his lover hasn’t bitched once about it.

If the beta male only knew what worlds of unburdened joy lie just beyond his reach…

The truth in these matters is just the opposite of the conclusions that the beta male’s reasoning takes him: what their nagging, maximally fertile women want is not more beta, but LESS BETA. They want the alpha male who dismisses their nags with a wave of the hand, a cocky attitude, and a vigorous entitlement to belittling sexual conquest. And they want this DESPITE what they claim to say they want. The man who understands this paradox about women is the man who succeeds with them by measures of success that transcend traditionalist bromides.

The researchers believe the findings shed light on a suite of conflicting behaviors that stem from mating strategies that might have provided an evolutionary benefit to women’s female ancestors of long ago but today probably serve no other purpose than to stir the domestic pot.

The form may change, but the urge remains the same.

She calls the urge for a stable long-term partner along with the increased desire for a more sexually attractive mate during periods of high fertility the “dual mating hypothesis.”

Haselton and Larson next plan to look at whether fault-finding and the feelings of distance and dissatisfaction have any long-term destabilizing effects on the relationships of women with less sexually attractive men.

Science proves that game can help strengthen a monogamous marriage. It’s not just for banging a lot of club sluts anymore.

They also plan to look into how, if at all, the behavior is perceived by the male partners of these women.

“We don’t know if men are picking up on this behavior, but if they are, it must be confusing for them,” Larson said.

Ya think? Thank the lord of illuminating truth that storehouses of real-life acquired knowledge like this digital retreat exist for men. The reign of confusion about women’s nature is beginning to close, and a new chapter in the history of love and romance is being written. This message will be uglier to some, more beautiful to others, dangerous to a few. But one thing it will be for all: a path out of the darkness.

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The 4-Date Misrule

A commenter on a blog I occasionally read mentioned an article about women dating beta men, in which the author advised women to pursue a “4-date rule” to screen out players who closely adhere to the well-known 3-date rule.

(For those in the dark, the 3-date rule means pushing for sex by the third date, and if sex is not forthcoming by then, to jettison the girl and cut your losses, because odds are good that a girl who can wait longer than three dates to put out can wait much longer than that. Plus, a girl who will make you wait an inordinate amount of time is likely a girl who isn’t that taken by you. You will find it very difficult to achieve the all-important hand with such a girl.)

A mass movement 4-date rule, i.e., a temporary boycott of sex Lysistrata-style to weed out cads, will never come to pass. The reason why is simple: Women don’t actually want to weed out the cads.

In one of those mating market paradoxes that drives genuine niceguys insane with unrequited hatelust for the opposite sex, women are less attracted to the sort of man who is willing to abide women’s stated preference for delayed sexual gratification. In other words, if you sincerely agree, tacitly or openly, with the woman you are dating to her arbitrary timetable for sex — “Sure, we can wait, I respect you” — you will have decreased the chance she will ever have sex with you. In the primeval mind of a woman, the man who is willing to patiently endure her chasteness, without complaint, is a man who doesn’t have too many other options in women, and thus signals his low mate value. And the longer he is willing to suffer her clamped legs, the less attraction she will feel for him.

Yep, “I like that you respect my wishes” really means, when translated from the womanese, “You’re a boring loser for not disrespecting my wishes.”

Dr. ϕ writes:

[P]erhaps I’ve grown overly cynical from the blogs I read, but my fear is that the message — watch out for players and PUAs — isn’t worth much by the time it gets through female mental filters.

Looks like a cool drink of water but
he’s candy coated misery
He’s the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
He gives you feelings that you dont want to fight . . . .

But PUAs are good at what they do precisely because of their ability to fly under just this type of radar. The guys that get shot down are the same no-game beta providers that have an uphill climb anyway.

So what happens is that when you tell girls, “There are some bad, bad players out there, so be careful,” they impute the “bad, bad player” quality to the guys they already weren’t enthusiastic about. It becomes a justification for being cold and bitchy to people who really didn’t deserve it. Meanwhile, PUAs do their thing unimpeded.

My explanation for why a cultural or motherly message to avoid players gets nibbled down to a nub and pissed on by female rationalization hamsters is a little different than Phi’s: when girls hear that a man is a “bad, bad player”, he becomes more, not less, interesting to them. Girls then flock to this man, and justify their attraction for his cosmic badassness by utilizing an impressive suite of self-serving spin that would be the envy of the most amoral political campaign operative.

Women love interesting men, even the ugly ones. Women loathe dull men, even the handsome ones. The man who flouts societal convention and disregards women’s claimed preferences is an interesting man. The devil in disguise is more desirable to women than the unmasked angel.

In contrast, the man who abides women’s rules soon finds himself ruled out.

Dr. Phi is right about something, though. Those boring beta niceguys who dutifully wait date after date for a meager morsel from that vagina plate are assigned the unflattering judgment by women that women claim the rule-breaking badboys deserve. But you see, deserving’s got nothin’ to do with it. Not when tingles do the talking.

Now as with most sexual market phenomena, a rule does not mean contrary exceptions don’t exist, or that its parameters aren’t a bit flexible. I have waited more than three dates with a few girls in my lifetime. I went a whole five dates with one girl who was particularly beautiful. Of course, it helped my perseverance that I was dating a couple other girls at the time.

If, on the rare occasion, you find yourself dealing with a woman who is bent on making you wait longer than three dates, you need to ask yourself a couple of questions.

1. Does she behave as if she is struggling to contain an irresistible lust for you?

2. Do you see this girl as long-term potential?

If number one is true, you can safely wait longer than three dates without jeopardizing the alpha cred you have with her. A woman who desperately wants to fuck but also wants to wait a bit so you don’t mistake her for a slut is a prized filly. She is worth humoring, because she likes you enough, and respects your masculine desire, to work hard at projecting an image of chastity and future fidelity that you will value. Don’t worry about being able to tell if she is this type of girl; you’ll know by her flushed face as she’s breathlessly uttering the words “not tonight”, and feebly pushing off from you, that she’s really into you, and that the calculated waiting period is one of mutual respect and deep interest, not one borne of flagging attraction.

If number two is true, it would be in *your* interest to allow her the luxury of a perfunctory waiting period. You will perceive a woman who has made you wait as a high value woman more worthy of your long-term investment and resources than a slutty same night lay would be. This perception operates at the subconscious level; you have little control over it.

If neither of those prerequisites are true, get the bang sooner rather than later, or cut your losses after the third date. (Some would say the second date should be your limit; I have no quarrel with that.) The danger in adhering to women’s waiting periods is that you 1. drain power by the date, resulting in lost hand, and 2. diminish the woman’s attraction for you.

The fact of the matter is that the strongest, most intensely romantic relationships often start the most passionately, punctuated by sexual immediacy. The great advantage to *not* waiting for sex on a woman’s prerogative is that you are in the driver’s seat; you can choose to pump and dump or to pursue a relationship after you have sated yourself. You are in no position to think clearly as long as your balls remain filled with brain-blocking sperm. At least if you have banged a girl on the first date, you know for certain she’s into you, and nothing bonds a woman to a man better than sex.

A curious trick you can try on women who seem like the types to follow a “wait to mate” strategy is to preempt their objections by insisting on waiting yourself. As she’s kissing you, say, “Oh, hey, I’m not like most men. I don’t want to have sex until later, maybe much later. I have to get to know you first before I go there.” It”s a bit cheesy, but when it works, it really works. She will wonder why you aren’t all over her like so many other men, and this challenge to her broad but shallow princess ego will spur her to sexual aggressiveness, until she is satisfied she has defeated your principles. Then you may allow yourself a victorious chortle.

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Game And HBD: BFFs

Haha. I bet you read the title and thought this post would be a lengthy treatise on the shared philosophical underpinnings of game and human biodiversity (HBD). Psyche!

A reader emails:

Hello. I’d like to add the entry of Game to the HBD Dictionary:

As a rough draft entry, I have:

Game:  Using insights from evolutionary psychology and human biodiversity, game teaches men, especially beta males, how to simulate the attitudes and characteristics of alpha males so as to be more attractive to females.

Again, a rough draft.  Feel free to re-write.

Also, if you can think of any other terms that need to be added or revisions to current terms, please let me know.

I don’t have a major problem with the crux of this reader’s definition of game. I see what he’s getting at. I might rephrase it to: “Using insights from evolutionary psychology and real world experience bedding women…”, but then the peer review panel would get the hives. However, I don’t think a definition should be nested (if that’s the right word); that is, a good definition won’t require the reader to have to look up the definitions of fuzzy words within the main definition (e.g., “beta males” or “alpha males”).

How about this definition instead (and one that avoids using the word game within the definition)?:

Game, noun

A systematized blueprint of male behavior for attracting, courting and seducing women in an efficient and powerful manner based on the practical application of theories of human, and particularly female, sexuality derived from the insights of evolutionary psychology, biology and real world experimentation.

Any alternate suggestions from the peanut gallery?

PS I do think game and HBD greatly overlap, despite the commonly held misconceptions that HBD is a synonym for genetic determinism or that game is a synonym for boundless behavioral plasticity.

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IQ, Executions And Voting

GLP links to a La Griffe du Lion piece that confirms what I stated about retardation — namely, that the correlation between clinical, biological retardation and IQ varies by race. The subject came up over a discussion about Texas’ execution of a man with an IQ of 61 from a test taken later in his life. (His first IQ test put him at 73.)

In the comments over there, PA astutely notes:

IQ-alone limits on execution do carry implications with regards to other aspects of citizenship.

Liberals who trumpet IQ-based restrictions on the death penalty should be wary of where their invented morality logically leads. (As well as wary of their hypocrisy being exposed over the IQ issue, a metric which liberals claim not to believe in unless and until belief in it suits their agenda.) To wit: if low IQ is sufficient to exempt a murderer from the death penalty because of presumed cognitive impairment of his moral judgment, then low IQ is sufficient to exempt dumb citizens from the voting rolls because of cognitive impairment of their political judgment, which is just a proxy for moral judgment.

I really don’t see a legitimate (i.e., sensible, rational, non-shrieking) argument against this simple logic. If liberals and the various hodge-podge of flaming equalists are going to go down this road, they have to accept the logical conclusions that their beliefs take them in regards to issues they congenitally find personally distasteful. If they don’t, they discredit themselves.

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Asstenuating Circumstances

Readers have asked, “What was your most memorable pickup?” I can think of a few successful pickups that were very challenging and provided me with much spiritual fulfillment upon completion. But if we’re talking about picking up against all odds and natural law, under adverse conditions that would cause lesser men to wilt in defeat, one in particular stands out.

***

I unrolled the mat and tamped down the curled end. Observing my surroundings from the back row of the yoga class, a swarm of svelte hourglass figures tucked salaciously into lycra presented for my eye rape. Ponytails swatted the air and taut bodies stretched and leaned and jutted to fill every frame of my viewing field. I dropped to my mat, extended my legs, and began reaching out to touch my knees. Pre-stretch.

“First time here?,” I asked the brunette sitting cross-legged to my right.

She hesitated before answering, “Nope. I’ve been going for years.”

“I bet you’ve memorized all the moves, then. I need a crib sheet.”

She half-smiled. “It’s pretty relaxed here.” Glancing at the instructor setting up her work station, “She goes slow.”

“If I don’t know a move, I just drop into that fetal position where you’re looking at the floor like you’re about to throw up.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

I liked this girl.

Class started. Upward, outward, inward, splayed, sternum to the sky. Supple, peach cleft, disembodied asses bobbed in figure eights in front of me like that bouncing ball traveling across the lyric captions to some Saturday morning children’s show. Sheer, high tech material emphasized every vulval ridge. It stirred.

Halfway through the class, in the middle of executing a straight-backed bend at the waist, and with no warning flare from my viscera, a loud, staccato racket erupted from my exit.

BWWAAAAAPP

My face burned to match the rectal tear I thought I had suffered. More than half the class pretended not to notice. But it was foolish to feign ignorance. This newborn’s cries echoed off the walls. No ear was spared.

A few girls and the one herbly man (the only one besides myself in attendance) in the class turned in the direction of the prurient sound, not quite sure who emanated the offense but able to narrow it down to two or three suspects, their faces twisted in yeoman efforts to hide disgust or laughter. The man nodded his head at me (he knew) and was the only one to notably chuckle. The instructor, obviously practiced in the art of managing student effluvium, segued hastily into the next pose by raising her voice a few decibels to distract the rumble of cackling that was about to unleash.

But before she could announce the next pose and move us all forward from mass embarrassment, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Was that a duck?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd. The brunette swiveled and grinned at me, having reconsidered the merit of talking to me earlier. I had verbalized the unthinkable, and in so doing perhaps saved her from being misattributed as the ass criminal. By now my blush had receded, and I smiled at her and shrugged my shoulders, as if to say “hey, gas happens”.

Supreme self-confidence, I thought. A man who owns his bodily functions is a hot commodity.

I wanted to keep the moment going with further jokes about the incident, thinking the running gag is a good way to loosen a girl up. But better sense prevailed and I kept my mouth shut while flexing triumphantly through the remaining poses. At the end of the class, incense candles were lit to guide us through the meditative cool-down. I think they were lit for another reason.

I stood up and rolled my mat, grabbing her attention.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“I think we should clear the air on what happened here, over drinks sometime. Like, how about tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Your form is barely adequate. I could give you some tips.”

“Tips? Over drinks? I don’t think your tips would be very helpful.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. Hope and change.”

“So… you’re asking me out?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you do this to all the girls at yoga classes?”

“Embarrass them? Yes.”

“Haha.” She stared at me for an interminable three seconds. “Well, ok. But… don’t bring your duck.”

I raised my eyebrows in faux indignation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, riiiight.”

We exchanged numbers after most of the class had disembarked. I said I would call her.

I’m certain she had a blast retelling this moment to her girl friends. And I’m glad I was the source of her glee.

***

So that, gentlemen and gentlewomen readers, was my most memorable pickup. Nothing smooth or suave about it. Just a lot of gumption and chutzpah. Accompanied by a galvanizing symphony of war drums.

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