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Women Desire To Be Desired

An article at Psychology Today titled “What Do Women Really Want?” hits all the Heartistian Realtalk notes. The author sounds like he spent his vacation at Le Chateau, and absconded with a few dusty tomes on his exit for later perusing. Excerpts:

[M]ore recent studies show that [sex] differences in reported number of sexual partners are reduced or disappear altogether if women are told that they are connected to a lie detector and that the information they provide will remain confidential. […]

The female tendency toward a roving eye can also be inferred, according to the work of evolutionary psychologist David Buss, from the very phenomenon of male jealousy, which is common in all societies and consistently related to men’s fears of potential cuckoldry. If women really do not want extra marital sex, then why are men so suspicious and jealous? Why put Stop signs on a street with no traffic?

Women aren’t as naturally promiscuous as men (especially men with options), but neither are they as pure as the wind-driven snow, as white knights and pedestal-polishing betas fervently believe.

Recent studies indicate that the objects of female sexual attraction vary with the menstrual cycle. During their fertile days, women tend to fancy high-testosterone men who are not good candidates for monogamy but have healthy male genes. How many married women secretly act on this impulse is difficult to estimate, but this type of ‘sperm poaching’ appears to be quite normative among our primate relatives.

CH has discussed “Ovulation Cycle Game” in a few posts. You need never again be SURPRISE CUCKSEXED! by an ovulating lover.

Men, in turn, are designed for this sperm competition as well. Biologist Robin Baker of the University of Manchester found, for example, that the amount of sperm a man discharges during intercourse with his wife is not dependent on the timing of the man’s last ejaculation but on the time since his last sex with his wife. If a long time has passed (increasing the chances that someone else’s seed found its way into his wife’s vagina), the husband’s ejaculate contains more sperm cells, which increases his competitive odds.

How weird to think that there’s a part of our limbic subconscious which puppeteers certain aspects of our behavior completely outside our conscious awareness.

Sex after a long separation tends to be more intense and prolonged. This is because long intercourse increases the chance of the woman reaching orgasm. According to research by Baker and biologist Mark Bellis, the uterine muscle contractions that accompany the female orgasm help retain sperm inside the vagina and move them toward the ovaries, and fertilization.

I don’t know about the validity of the explanation for it, but I agree that absence makes the rod grow harder even if it doesn’t necessarily make the heart grow fonder.

[T]he evidence suggests that women initiate divorce more often than men, and benefit less from marriage than do men on measures of health, happiness, and wealth. Additionally, as is well known to clinical psychologists and marriage counselors everywhere, many women who feel close to a loving partner nevertheless fail to feel passion for him.

Relationship Game is the cure for what ails a wife’s flagging libido. And, yeah, that female hypergamy is a bitch on lifelong love.

If monogamy, intimacy and communication are the engines of female desire, why do so many women fail to ignite with a familiar and faithful man? Why does their passion fizzle in marriage? Why will they seek to secretly graze in foreign pastures? Why do they not benefit from the monogamous arrangement more? Why do they break it up more readily?

All these burning questions answered here, in full, at the Chateau over the years. We are your one stop shoppe for the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And amorality.

As additional evidence [for the subversive nature of female sexual desire], developmental psychologist Lisa Diamond of the University of Utah found that many women experience their sexual interests as fluid and open, encompassing at different times men or women, or both. Richard Lippa of California State University has found that unlike men, whose sexual appetite narrows as it increases, sexually charged women display an increasingly open orientation. Women with higher libidos are more likely to feel desire toward members of both sexes.

We’re all familiar with the observation that many more women than men go through a bicurious sexually experimental phase. The old joke: What’s two women and a man? A threesome. What’s two men and a woman? Gay.

Marta Meana, a researcher at the University of Nevada, has argued provocatively that the organizing principle of female sexuality is the desire to be desired.

That’s the money shot right there. Women’s desire is to be desired. This conclusion is perfectly in line with similar notions of female sexual psychology made at various UglyTruth outlets, such as the idea that women are the “receiving” sex or that women want to submit to a dominant man. The shared animating impulse described by all these ideas is the innate compulsion of women to be desired. Desired so strongly that a man loses control of himself. Women are, by their very nature, irredeemably solipsistic, and this solipsism is a function of their genetic prime directive: to use their bodies and their beauty to capture the seed and the services of a high value man.

The woman who denies her prime directive is a genetic dead ender.

In her view, the delicate, tentative guy who politely thinks about you and asks if this is okay or that is okay is a guy who may meet the expectations of your gender politics (treats me as an equal; is respectful of me; communicates with me) and your parents’ preferences, but he may also put you into a sexual coma—not despite these qualities, but because of them.

Niceguys finish last. Jerkboys finish on her face.

Female desire, according to Meana, is activated when a woman feels overwhelmingly desired, not rationally considered. Female erotic literature, including all those shades of gray, is built on this fantasy. Sexual desire in this view does not work according to our expectations and social values. Desire seeks the path of desire, not the path of righteousness. It thrives not on social order but on its negation. This is one reason all religions and societies try to control, contain, limit and re-direct it.

I’m sure there’s a CH maxim somewhere in the archives asserting that female sexuality is more dangerous than male sexuality to social order, primarily because a wanton woman can fuck a man’s shit up for eighteen years.

Marta Meana had men and women watch erotic pictures of contact between a man and a woman and tracked the participants’ eye movements. She found that men and women focus on different aspects of the sexual event. Men looked at the women, while the women watched the two genders equally. They concentrated on the man’s face and the woman’s body. What turned them on apparently were the desired female body, with which they identify, and the man’s lustful gaze, for which they long.

Men are visual, women are holistic. This is why a man’s looks aren’t as crucial to his romantic success as a woman’s looks are crucial to hers.

Despite what is commonly believed, then, Meana argues that female sexuality is more self-centered than male’s. Mick Jagger’s lamentations aside, male fantasies focus on giving satisfaction, not on receiving it. Men see themselves in their fantasies bringing the woman to orgasm, not themselves. Women see the man, set aflame by uncontrollable lust for them, bringing them to ecstasy. Men want to excite women. Women want men to excite them.

Women are the more selfish sex, in and out of the bedroom. Color me shocked.

Basically, everything feminists assert, the opposite is true.

[W]ouldn’t more women be jealous of the desired woman who cannot orgasm than of the orgasmic woman who is not desired?

Yes, women are more jealous of beautiful women than of ugly fatties. Someone make a social awareness campaign about it.

Meana asserts that this aspect of female sexuality explains the prevalence of rape fantasies in the female fantasy repertoire. Rape fantasies, in this understanding, are actually fantasies about surrender, not out of masochistic yearnings to be harmed or punished, but out of the female desire to be desired by a man to the point of driving him out of control.

This is the one part of the article with which I mildly disagree. In fact, there are plenty of women who yearn to be harmed or punished, even if their yearning operates mostly on the subconscious level of cognition, below the level of survey administrators asking pointed embarrassing questions. You need only look at the long lines of death row groupies to see that there resides among womanhood a non-trivial contingent who welcome the whip hand of a dangerous man.

It’s as if a woman’s desire to be desired is, when taken to extremes, warped into a need for punishing treatment as the only demonstrations of male desire that will mean anything to her.

According to this view, monogamous marriage does work for women on a certain level: it provides security, intimacy, and help with the children. But it also suffocates female sexual desire.

According to GSS survey data, married men have a little bit more sex on a weekly basis than do single men, but this finding is horribly skewed by the reality of all those lesser beta and omega male singles who are utterly invisible to women. I’d bet the ranch that the single alpha male gets a lot more sex, and (obviously) gets it with a much greater variety of pussy, than does the average married man.

At the end of the day, the accumulating evidence appears to reveal a paradoxical element at the core of female desire, a tension between two conflicting motives. On the one hand is the desire for stability, intimacy, and security—picture the flame on the burner of a gas stove: controlled, utilitarian, domesticated, and good for making dinner. On the other hand is the need to feel totally, uncontrollably desired, the object of raw, primal lust—a house on fire.

Female sexual nature is bifurcated. Game — the art of applied charisma — will help build a loving bridge joining together a woman’s maddening, competing desires.

Porter writes with an acrid wistfulness about the story of Anthony Stokes, the Goodboy™ who recently died in a stolen car he crashed while fleeing from police after an attempted burglary. Stokes had a backstory that makes his case more interesting than the usual Dindu Nuffin shenanigans. Under pressure from SJWs and “civil rights groups” intervening on Stokes’ behalf, the hospital overturned its original decision to deny Stokes a heart transplant, the first decision having been based on his already lengthy history of delinquency. Stokes then got the heart that saved his life… for a couple of years anyway.

There aren’t that many viable hearts to go around (and the ones that are available for transplant are disproportionately from white donators, pathologically altruistic beyond the end), so hospitals have to make tough choices who gets a new heart. The life of Anthony “muhfuggin heart” Stokes likely meant the death of a better person. Porter:

Deserving recipients must die so that SJWs may preen. If the staff of Think Progress were the only ones awaiting organs, I would bury every heart in Anthony Stokes’ casket.

Reminder: This is the fine upstanding citizen saved (for a criminally short stint) by modern medicine:

This is one of the horrible racists who died waiting in the back of the line for a new heart:

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Think Progress knows. They and their ilk sold their black hearts to the devil in exchange for the earthly reward of pompous self-righteousness. Fuck them to hell.

Readers sometimes ask, “CH, if you were imprisoned in a cage of domesticity, how would you deal with the cramping of your style? What would do when your old lady is a faint echo of her former pumpworthy glory?” I’ve always half-glibly said, “liquor and hookers”. Now a reader happily affirms the essential ingredients of the CH recipe for the good life. We’ll call it CAP:

Careerism, Alcoholism, Promiscuity.

drunicusrex writes,

Careerism plus functioning alcoholism plus promiscuity is perfectly fine in men, so long as they support their families well, and raise strong, intelligent children.

It’s also very possible as a married man to enjoy a few drinks, keep a mistress discreetly, and be a fine father.

Most every wife will peter out eventually, in either looks or libido (often both) and yet a strong, successful guy is supposed to give up sex after two or three kids pop out?
I think not.

Careerism, alcoholism, and eat pray fuck are disastrous in women. That shit ends marriages PDQ, and certainly trashes any maternal or parental instincts. Fuck that. Women who act like men make truly ghastly moms. (And stay at home Dads getting in touch with their metro side are questionable to say the least.)

Traditional sex roles = happiness.

So now wifey is falling asleep in the couch. Earlier from outside the window I saw some college girls heading out for St Pat’s stroll past our yard, towards the bars and shops around the corner.

Our little resort/college town does, in fact, have nearly as many temptations as any big coastal city.
But I have things to do at work tomorrow ….
perhaps I’ll just go out for one or two….

Executive summary: You reverse the sexual polarities at your peril and great risk to your family.

A self-confident culture on the upswing features a lot of men following the CAP formula for happiness. A few drinks, a young pretty mistress, and a diligently pursued passion (which could be a career or a hobby) is the secret sauce that inspirits men and motivates them to continue providing for their dutiful wives and paternally assured kids.

But, a sickly, self-negating culture on the downswing reverses this formula. Men become women and women become men. All sorts of crap flows outward from that toxic strew.

Careerist men: Strong, attractive, admirable.
Careerist women: Unfeminine, bitchy, untrustworthy.

Imbibing men: Fun, charming, sociable.
Imbibing women: Slutty, crass, poor mothers.

Promiscuous men: Happy, contented, appreciative.
Promiscuous women: Deranged, restless, divorce risks.

You’ve been warned.

Spot The Diversity

Poz Vox recently had its one-year anniversary (“happy voxiversary”… that’s one smooth portmanteau). A staff photo was Twitted.

Vox, as you may or may not know, is a seething pit of anti-badwhite “anti-racism” Judeo-Christian hatred. If there’s a Dindu Nuffin or a Gentle Giant or a make-believe rape culture victim who can be exploited to slander normal, heterosexual white men, the girls at Vox are on the case.

With that in mind, notice anything peculiar about Vox’s staff? Can you… spot the Diversity?

I see one. Lower right corner. Couple of asians in the mix, too, but they don’t qualify as “Diversity” in the way the word is meant by Voxian shitlibs.

Infamous Tweeter, @CAPSLOCKHUSTLA was up to the task of spotting the Diversity. He responded “FOUND IT” and included a helpful pointer:

Very relevant postscript: Matty Yglesias named his kid “Jose”. You can’t make this shitlibbery up.

PPS This post hit a lot of nerves. Matty Yce is that you shoving your porky sausage link fingers into a bunch of sockpuppets? Heh. Tell us, why did you give your kid your wife’s maiden surname? Are you a huge faggot male feminist? Or did your wife turn the screws on your nutsack? Could be.

Matchmakers’ Client Game

Are you wondering how to maintain that “man of poon plenty” attitude (aka fornucopia) when your social circle plays matchmaker for you? Commenter mendozatorres asks,

“Women are repulsed by the man of need.”

So in a case where a man is being introduced to women by friends/acquaintances, does this work against him, since it could come across as him being needy?

It could, but it won’t, if you know the Way of the Charming Jerkboy. It’s a very simple reframe when you want to avoid the stink of neediness that does tend to Pigpen-ishly waft around the clients of eager beaver matchmakers. When you are introduced to the girl, lightheartedly break the ice:

“I apologize for my friends’ insistence on setting me up. They apparently don’t like the women I date without their help.”

This serves two subcommunication goals: One, you don’t need their help to get laid. Two, she’ll wonder what kinds of women you pull. And when women wonder about that, their hamsters can’t resist imagining some sexy, hell-on-wheels badgirl with zero bedroom inhibitions.

You can practically see the exact moment a tingle zaps her vagina.

The ponytail pull is a staple of charismatic jerkboys. This outtake is the best distillation of game in three seconds you will likely come across. Why is this so? Think back to this post describing the Fishing Theory of Game.

The shared idea behind all these pithy game theories is that women want a man who seems like he gets so much mad pussy that he can take or leave any one particular pussy. This is the man who “flips the script” and has women chasing him. Women love the man of plenty. Women are repulsed by the man of need.

The ponytail pull is fun, teasing, even taunting. But there’s a deeper subcommunication that speaks directly to the female id. The man who pulls the ponytail with reckless disregard for the potential of a withering rebuke from the girl is the man who, through his strong indication of indifference (IOI) to the girl’s reaction, signals that he is flush with sexual market options.

The ponytail pull is a powerful mate value cue; it implies to the delighted recipient, “This man is a man of plenty. He breezily risks my wrath, and my romantic rejection, therefore he must have no trouble getting women. Women desire him, so I must desire him. And, oh yeah, the thought of getting my hair pulled during a sweaty rut turns me on.”

A clearer delineation between alpha and beta males you couldn’t find. If you surveyed one hundred alpha males, more than a handful would confess to having pulled the ponytail. And those who hadn’t could easily envision themselves doing it.

One hundred beta males, to the contrary, would confess to never having pulled a ponytail. Instead, they would stare aghast at this demonstration of entitled, dominant, seductive male courtship display, and wonder aloud how it is girls fall for these jerks every time while they politely keep their hands off ponytails like true gentlemen.

The Fishing Theory Of Game

Its provenance uncertain, an anonymous sage explains the Fishing Theory of Game:

It’s like fishing. You don’t just jerk your line out of the water as soon as you can. That’s how you get a broken line and lose an expensive lure. You jerk her in slowly letting the fish tire herself out. Once she’s sufficiently submissive then it’s time for the net. After that if you feel like catching another one then just cast your reel again.

You never let a girl control the line. That’s how you lose fish.

Mystery’s “cat string theory” describes a similar phenomenon of female psychology. A cat won’t lunge for the string if it’s just sitting there in front of her, but if the string [your penis and any proxies for your penis, like your brain or personality] is moving away or zig-zagging, she’ll pounce.

The shared idea behind all these pithy game theories is that women want a man who seems like he gets so much mad pussy that he can take or leave any one particular pussy. This is the man who “flips the script” and has women chasing him. Women love the man of plenty. Women are repulsed by the man of need.

I don’t make the biomechanic rules, folks, I just deliver the news, because a well-informed citizenry is an accountable sexual market.

Everyday Jesus. Discuss.

Nobutferreals, the AOTM is this faceless, orchestrating German man from the years 1969-1970 whose candid photos of his mistress (who is also married at the time of the affair), along with notes he wrote about the affair, were recently discovered hiding in an old abandoned suitcase (zehr romantic!).

We know this because Günter meticulously documented the affair like a compulsive accountant.

Ethnic stereotypes — they don’t materialize out of thin air.

The story would be dull—clichéd even—without the voyeuristic thrill that comes with the intimate details: a married German businessman and his married secretary, Margret, have a brief affair from 1969 to 1970. Everything you see here came from a suitcase purchased at an estate auction 30 years after the affair, and it’s an utterly engrossing collection of artifacts.

So far, so alpha. But what elevates this man from garden variety loverJunge to alpha male of the month is the following detail tucked in the recesses of his l’affaire journal.

At one point, the man’s wife confronts [mistress] Margret, accusing her of disrupting a happy marriage. Margret is furious, and so the businessman then forces his wife to apologize to her.

And there it is. A greater beta male who finds himself balls-deep in an affair would cave instantly when his wife discovered his infidelity and confronted his lover. An alpha male has his scorned wife APOLOGIZE to his mistress for her accusatory insolence! That pivotal conversation as recounted by Günther:

Indeed, his notes reveal that his wife Leni is aware of the affair but chooses to endure the humiliation.

Maxim #50: The wife of an alpha male will stoically endure the worst humiliations while the wife of a beta male won’t tolerate his merest deviation from her impossible expectations.

In one of the first long notes, typed on a page from a calendar, Günther describes a confrontation between Margret and his wife:

[Roughly translated from German]

Monday 7.9.1970: At lunch Leni (Günthers wife) says to Margret: Madame, you are a lesser character, you are disrupting a good marriage.

Tuesday 8.9.1970: Around 10 a clock Margret says to me: You let this insult from your wife against me pass? No more sex, you can jump on your own wife. Whatever you do, you are not allowed to jump on me anymore. [ed: classy lady]

Later, my wife has to apologize to her at lunch on 8.9.1970.

That afternoon they go upstairs again to make love and the note ends with:

Devil salad is eaten. Everything is okay again. 

Before you think this alpha male has oneitis, or is led by the dick by Margret, read on:

He gets involved with other women at the request of Margret who wants him to go on dates with other women, presumably to quell suspicion from her own husband.

There is Giesela, who Günther describes as “sexually starving”, and Ursula, a “big and skinny” 21 year-old who “looks really good. White boots, green dress, black hair.” Günther reveals Margret’s subsequent panicked jealousy, begging him not to fall in love with Ursula. He also mentions that despite him still being involved with Ursula, Margret fights with her husband and asks for a divorce.

When your wife apologizes to your mistress, and your mistress gets jealous of your other mistresses, you might be an alpha male.

And the questions linger. What makes a man document his affair so meticulously? Did he want to preserve the relationship to relive it later? Was this industrial businessman searching for a creative platform to express his love? Or merely the confirmation of his control over the situation, as he mastered the art of adultery?

All of the above. A man’s memories of his lovers and his sexual pleasures will be his most vividly recalled, right into old age. More easily recalled than even the names and ages of his children. A man is roused to creativity by youthful, beautiful women. And a man takes pride in his seductive prowess. This is the way of a man. Yes, a real man.

During one of their “business trips”, Günther makes a list of all the times they made love….

Wednesday 12 Aug. 1970: 17 18.15  1x

Beginning of her period (tampon) Initiation party anyways.

Tuesday 18 Aug. 1970: 15.15 -15. 20.

Yellow chair in front of the aquarium (sitting) 1x

Wednesday 2 Sept. 1970: 17. 05-18.00 1x

With beautiful music, resting afterwards

Günther wasn’t about to let the Red Army stop his initiation party advance. Now, if his mistress hadn’t been a sweet piece of ass, you can bet Günther wouldn’t have thrown propriety to the wind and pressed into the bloody breach, undaunted.

Günther’s testimony proved one of the CH maxims about the power of female youthnbeauty:

Maxim #40: A young, pretty girl is nature’s viagra, capable of exciting an old man who hasn’t seen action in forty years to perform on command.

Postscript: The photos of Margret the Mistress are poetic in their own right. Günther had an eye for fleeting beauty, and doomed romance. Look at these candid snaps. Overlook her dated hairdo for the full impact. Margret has hot little minx face, if ever a woman had it.

PPS No obesity here!

COTW winner fredmertz reprimands regular troll “james blond” aka thwack for assuming museums will still be around when the whitey race becomes a relic of the past.

No nigga gonna pay fo a.museum, specially one fo da white man! Only exhibit I can see is a statue of a giant EBT card. ”Is it true, daddy? We used to get money for nuthin’?” “Dass true Quantavious…it be over now. White man gone…”

Some unlearned folk think girls can only be picked up in bars or nightclubs, or that those two venues are the bread and butter of advanced cadding practitioners. They have no comprehension of the ease with which girls can be approached and courted in just about every conceivable situation outside bars and nightclubs. Every real world situation offers the awakened man who is aware of his surroundings an opportunity to say something charming that could spark and expand a conversation with a girl inside his phonic sphere.

Bus stop: “I know this bus driver. Here’s a tip: Flash some leg if you want a free ride. Works for me.”

Waiting in line for roller coaster: “If I throw up on you when we’re upside-down, don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me.”

Doctor’s office: “I’m here for my bloodletting.”

Gym: “Great form!…. for a girl.”

Liquor store: “My AA group is throwing a party. I’m in charge of supplies.”

Car dealership: “I don’t want the rust protection. That’s like getting a prenup. Takes all the romance out of it, doncha think?”

Running to girl on sidewalk: “Holy crap, you walk fast. How am I supposed to woo your back?”

Dollar store, admiring $2 bauble: “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Bowling alley: “Two strikes in a row! I need groupies. You in?”

Fly-fishing: “I’m trying to catch a mermaid. It’s time to settle down.”

Rock climbing: “Try not to stare at my butt when I’m up there. I’m self-conscious.”

At a scenic overlook: “You come here often?”

Staring side-by-side at a famously nightmarish painting in a museum: “I bet this guy got all the ladies.”

Hospital, checking in: “I have a broken heart.”

April Fool’s Day: [leaning over her cubicle] “I’ve gotta get this off my chest. Been holding it in too long. I am deeply, deeply, deeply in love with you. Always have been.” [wait a beat, point at her calendar, AN SMIRK]

Apple store Genius Bar: “Tim Cook is a fairy who does business with Saudi Arabia, a nation that beheads homosexuals, and employs Chinese child slave labor to snap the backs on iPhones. Gimme your number.”

I will neither confirm nor deny if I have used any of these lines in my own life to hit on cutie patootie pies (aka slender, 17-23 BMI, 0.65-0.75 waist-to-hip ratio, under-30 women).

The point of this post isn’t to memorize these lines. The lesson is this: Be situationally aware and in the moment. Keep your senses sharp, like a hunter surveying the veldt for prey, and exploit every chance that the banalities of life throw at you to capture the curiosity, and hearts, of cute girls gliding in and out of your world. There is much more opportunity for sexual and romantic gratification than you think you know. You’ve just gotta… bustamove.

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