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Predicting A Girl’s Infidelity

Dec 16th, 2010 by

A reader emails:

As a rule, when the supply of eligible men goes down, female sluttiness goes up. If a girl will only date guys [who are] soccer players 6-4 or taller, then she’ll get desperate around these men moreso than a girl without this “limiting factor”. If a girl comes across 1 eligible guy a month, vs 10 eligible guys a day, then that 1 eligible guy has massive hand, and will score even if he has negative game.

The short-term dating limiting factors could be, but not limited to:

1. age
2. looks
3. race / hair color / eye color
4. height / build
5. income / class
6. musical talent
7. cultural tastes / fashion
8. social proof / notch count
9. game / humor / confidence

I know girls that sleep around, often sober, but only with guys within narrow parameters. They often exclude known cads and alpha males in the group to focus on a narrower, but not necessarily superior, sub-set of alpha males.

I propose finding short-term relationships among women that date within narrow parameters and long-term relationships with women that date all over the map.

That’s counter-intuitive.

If you qualify based on a limiting factor it seems like the logical basis for a long term relationship, but she’ll go just as ga-ga over another guy that meets this same limiting factor. If you are lucky she’ll come across this guy when your game is tight, and not on a beta downswing.

A girl that’s less discriminating is less likely to come across a man that sweeps her off her feet, and you into divorce court.

What this reader is hinting about is known as The Template, (or, in more poetic language, the Ideal Lover). Every person, man and woman, has a template etched into their brains from birth that, upon the pubertal blossoming, guides them like an invisible genital towards certain types of people who most closely match their ideal. The Template is a force to be reckoned with, because it derives its power from deeply embedded genetic imprinting passed down from generations of ancestors following their own similar templates.

Master seducers beware: once a girl has laid eyes on her ideal man she will swat away the importunings from objectively superior suitors like so many buzzing flies. Not even Jedi game has the force to distract a girl from pursuing with single-minded focus the man of her Template dreams. The good news is that The Template is very rarely fulfilled; out of 1,000 men a woman might meet over many years perhaps one or two of them will press all her buttons. So as a practical matter, The Template is no barricade to free and easy sex for a fly by night womanizer.

The reader makes a good point about the supply of men being limited not just by the numerical sex ratio but also by the self-imposed mate choice limitations of women. A romantically idealistic woman fully under the sway of her Template is a woman with dating hand, because very few men will be able to satisfy her prerequisites for love. Luckily, most women are not so beholden to the prudish pull of their Templates. Usually, women age out of slavish devotion to their templates as reality slowly but inexorably pounds into their heads that their Template in Shining Armor is more real as a fantasy than as an actual man. For examples of girls still enslaved by the dictates of their Templates, stroll through any high school corridor.

This is not to say women (and men) give up on their Templates entirely. We have all experienced that heart-quickening epiphany when the woman of our Templates dances into our vision, and for a moment our self-regard and worries vanish like tears in rain as our brains rev furiously and every nerve in our bodies readies for a shot at conquest. But we shelve the Template most days, figuring that the constant heeding of its call is often a flimsy pretext for rationalizing solitude.

Back to the reader’s premise: sluts sleep around, but only with a select few men who meet their Templates, i.e. within narrow mate criteria parameters. The premise has a kernel of truth, but is incomplete, unless we expand those narrow parameters to include most alpha males. While I have argued before that sluts are not less discriminating than chaste women, they aren’t exactly starry-eyed romantics staring pensively out their bedroom windows at the late summer moon, smug with the knowledge that their virtue remains untrammeled until a superlative cock shows up to rescue her lust from its prison of self-denial. A slut is still a slut, whether she accrues her cock notches with a subset of high status men or with randomly chosen men who just happened to be in the right place at the right time and didn’t fuck it up by saying the wrong thing.

One should remember that the alpha male, by dint of his universal attractiveness, strikes deep limbic notes in women regardless of the proximity of his characteristics to a woman’s Template. There are enough of these interchangeable alpha males on the prowl that a dedicated slut could notch quite a few cocks despite the very narrow parameters she sets for herself.

So what do we make of the reader’s bold contention that “groupie sluts” are worse long-term prospects than “inclusive sluts” because of the potential that a stray man meeting the former’s Template would quickly and easily tempt her to infidelity? Should men who are seeking LTRs drop any women from consideration who express a fascination with, say, pasty-faced activist anarcho-libertarians? Should a man who meets a woman’s template worry that he could be replaced by another, similarly templated man? Live by the template, die by the template?

No. Although I admire the reader’s logical chain of thought leading to his contrarian conclusion, in reality inclusive sluts are no less a risk factor than groupie sluts. A girl who comes across ten eligible men per day may not swoon as uncontrollably as a girl who sees an eligible man once per day, but the fidelity assurance from the lack of swooning is offset by the increase in permissible suitors.

To put it another way, would you rather compete with one (from your woman’s point of view) rare, exceptional man or with ten less rare, do-able men? Statistically, I doubt the groupie slut is any less faithful than the inclusive slut.

Then there is the matter of correlations. A jaded woman with lax standards who has a history of spreading for all taxonomy of penii is going to be a cheating risk no matter how swoon-proof she is. Her atrophied Template is no guarantee of fidelity, but it is a guarantee of a weary, utilitarian outlook on life from whom getting genuine love would be like squeezing blood from a stone. A woman like that simply has fewer hurdles to jump before being comfortable enough to relinquish her hole for plundering.

Conversely, a woman who has only slept with indie band bass players wearing guyliner is no flight risk at all if you happen to possess the emo phenotype yourself. If you don’t, you still have rarity of number on your side. Keep her away from hipster nightclubs and you significantly reduce competition pressure. And you must have done something right to bed her if you didn’t meet her stringent Template. That alone should infuse you with unstoppable confidence. Some of the strongest relationships I’ve known were unintuitive pairings between Template centered women and men who didn’t match their Templates. That is because those men brought something new, and exciting, to the table, which emboldened their women to wriggle free of the straitjacket of their templates.

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Posted in Girls, Self-aggrandizement, Sluts | Comments Off

Women’s Standards Crumble Easily Given The Right Incentives

Dec 14th, 2010 by

Maxim #39: A woman’s standards are like a house of cards: kick out one from the bottom and the whole edifice crashes down.

I was mingling with some friends, a mixed group, when one of the girls — 7.5, ~0.75 waist-hip ratio, lithe, A cups, mid-20s (because this info is vital to any discussion) — piped up about her standards in men. She went on for some length describing the kind of man she would deign to date. (She is single.) Now based on looks, age and lack of sprog baggage, she has the sexual market value to make some weighty demands. And she knew that on a logical level. Her 463 bullet point checklist she recited was quite impressive in its detail:

  • worldly and well-travelled; must have been someplace besides Europe
  • athletic; football or lacrosse player at a Div 1-A school preferred
  • spontaneous
  • generous; must have done volunteer work at some point in life
  • Cute but with a rugged edge; a cross between Orlando Bloom and Christian Bale
  • good conversationalist; can speak intelligently on any number of subjects, but especially film history
  • stylish; not a J. Crew guy, but more like a Banana Republic-slash-Marc Jacobs guy
  • muscular, but not too beefy; deltoids must be developed to bulging perfection
  • tall, but not more than 8 inches taller than her
  • a connoisseur of fine wine
  • shuns video games

This was not the full list. It is the list I could remember for this post. Two weeks later, we all met again, and this time she was with a man, someone she had just started dating. He was:

  • a full-time bartender
  • a local who has never left the country (yes, he admitted this, with some pride)
  • dressed in jeans and a button-down
  • a couple inches taller than her (average male height)
  • a state school grad
  • tattooed
  • a very chill, amiable guy; you could see yourself having a beer with him
  • not particularly built, but not fat either
  • better than average looking, but no Christian Bale
  • socially savvy, but not intellectual
  • confident
  • a big video gamer (we discussed the finer points of the Kinect)

I hope you can see where I’m going with this. What she claimed were her inviolable standards and what kind of man she actually dated were very different. And she seemed oblivious to the disconnect. Bless her cutie pie hamster.

This isn’t the only example of a woman’s standards not being worth the mental paper they’re written on. I’m sure we’re all acquainted with the online spectacle of average-looking, and even ugly fat chicks, pumping their dating site profiles and Craigslist personals full of demands that would make a princess blush. But oh how quickly those standards evaporate when the harsh klieg lights of reality intrude!

A woman’s standards, however emphatically and insistently declared, are more like a fantasy dating team: free of the constraints of market barter, she happily indulges in a little of the ol’ ultradelusion. That is, if you ask a woman her standards, you will never –

and I mean never

– get an honest and realistic answer from her.

This is because women are, on the whole, incapable of accurate self-assessment. A woman’s prime directive in life is to sell herself the moon. A man’s directive is to sidestep paying her inflated price for that moon.

Given the right incentives, every woman’s standards will wilt into accommodation. And by incentives, I mean everything from the sex ratio to her actual sexual worth to the subversive level of game the man plays. A single, smart 60 year old woman, financially well-off and occupationally accomplished, can demand in the most florid and haughty language a sophisticated and wealthy man all she wants, but where the rubber meets the road she will jettison most of her ridiculously unrealistic standards for an average old schlub who tickles her pink because he managed not to fall asleep during an hour long dinner date with her.

And the hot young babe who wants the Hollywood caricature? Well, as we can see by the above anecdote, (played out millions of times over across this great land), if the guy is cool, aloof and has game, and maybe has the sort of conventionally low-status job that puts him in direct contact with lots of competitor women, our 463 bullet point heroine is gonna shred her list of demands like so many Vince Foster papers. (Why couldn’t the verklempft fag leak those cables?)

That’s the meaning of Maxim #39. If you have game, that is like pulling a card from the bottom of her stack of standards; she will quickly forget all about the cards on top that you aren’t holding.

Now women, being constitutionally hypergamous in a way that relatively more indiscriminate men aren’t, will by nature have more and higher standards than men, and will more often than men attempt to satisfy those standards. This leads to the laughable phenomenon of single mid 30s lawyer chicks futilely chasing after the same kind of guys they did when they were in college, except this time around the guys aren’t even bothering to give them the gratification of a pretend commitment.

But this shouldn’t dissuade you from recognizing a very important truth — for all their bluster and trumped-up demands, women will surrender rather easily to a dude with a righteous tattoo.

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Posted in Dating, Girls, Pretty Lies | Comments Off

How To Greet Like An Alpha Male

Dec 13th, 2010 by

Posts about alpha body language always elicit titters of snarky gayness from the haters. “Stand contrapposto like an alpha.” “Don’t lean in.” “Face out toward the room.” The closed-minded can’t, or won’t, comprehend that certain actions — even seeming trivialities like the location of one’s feet on the floor — can increase or decrease a man’s attractiveness to women. Their ignorance stems from their refusal to acknowledge the premise that alpha males and beta males not only exist in reality, but that each group shares behaviors and attitudes that define them. People who believe we are all special little snowflakes have a particularly difficult time accepting the fact of our biomechanistic origins and how this translates into universally shared traits and mating behaviors. Few people, especially the religious and the equalists (one and the same, really), like to think we are slave to ancient shadow forces making a mockery of our concept of free will.

Here’s another body adjustment that will boost your alpha appeal to women: When you nonverbally greet people, toss your head up and then down, instead of nodding down then up. Via Delenda est Carthago:

Back in the early 80s when I was a freshman in high school, I noticed that some male students, when they greeted people, would give a little toss of their head.  This “reverse nod” (up, then down) was remarkable because it ran counter to my own habit of nodding (down, then up) to people when I greeted them.  I don’t know how it got to be a habit, but it’s probably what I saw the adults around me do, and adults in movies and TV do, rather than something that somebody told me I was supposed to do.

Because the toss was new, and because the upperclassmen did it, I associated it with being “cool”, and tried to emulate it.  I may have had a dim sense of the biomechanics, but I lacked the analytical tools and vocabulary to appreciate what was at stake.  But as much as I practiced the toss in front of a mirror, I almost never remembered to deploy it in an actual social situation, and eventually I gave up.

As I have moved from youth to adulthood, I have observed others using the toss with diminishing frequency, although this could be me just not paying attention anymore.  But it’s easy to see how the study cited above maps onto the implications of the head toss.

The “reverse nod” does map onto the research posted at this blog recently about women preferring to look up at men. When you start your nod on an upward trajectory, instead of in the downward direction that most people nod, you are mimicking that masculine backwards facial tilt which brings women such delight.

Try the reverse nod now. Nod up then down. Now try the usual way. Nod down then up. You don’t have to be nodding at anyone. This little experiment will work even if you are alone. What did you feel deep down in the pit of your animal soul? I guarantee that most of you men reading this felt “more alpha” doing the reverse nod. It was a nebulous, ill-formed feeling, but a real feeling nonetheless.

When you feel the alpha in you, you know that girls are noticing the alpha in you. A small adjustment in a trivial thing like nodding can redound to your attractiveness in bigger ways. To be sure, a nod will not get you laid. But you start adding up all these little changes intended to emphasize alpha male characteristics, and suddenly you’re cooking with gas.

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Posted in Alpha, Biomechanics is God, Game | Comments Off

The Player Vibe

Dec 10th, 2010 by

Reader Walawala asks:

[H]ow do you deal with chicks that suddenly start viewing [my newfound] self-confidence as being a player. “I’ll bet you have tons of girl friends…” etc..

Yes, these are shit tests, I get that, and can deal. But my problem lately has been chicks that get so attached after I bang them, they break up because they fear “it won’t go anywhere and you have lots of girlfriends”…even though quite honestly I don’t. I’m just confident.

This is a common complaint from men who are starting to see results with game. The answer is to focus on the basics. Forget tricky routines or clever quips or nuclear negs. You would be missing the forest for the trees. The specific reply to this type of shit test isn’t important; what matters is the big picture. As long as you recognize the forces at work in the woman’s mind, the answer you give will be good, regardless of the exact wording you use.

So what do you need to know? Really, just one thing. You need to refrain from playing into the woman’s frame. When a chick says “I’ll bet you’re a player” or some similar variation thereof, she expects you to feel shame, and then to backpedal, apologize, act humbled, or otherwise be a magnificent beta seeking her approval. Are you a beta? Because this is what goes through every beta’s mind, (AKA the twitchy guinea pig, if you will, because women are always using them as test subjects), and in this order:

This chick is hot.
She just said she bets I have a ton of girlfriends.
That’s good, right?
Again, this chick is hot.
I better not say anything to piss her off or ruin this magic moment we’re sharing.
Since chicks don’t like womanizers, I will deny being one.
I hope she is impressed by my answer.
Sex, maybe?

And just like that, you are dancing to her tune. No sex for you!

Now put yourself into the shoes of an alpha. This is what goes through his mind when a girl asks him the same:

This chick is hot.
Is she giving me shit already?
Typical hot bitch.
I’m gonna fuck with her.
Too easy.

Once you have identified the trap and have committed to sidestepping it, the right reply will come to you naturally.

“Yes, my harem is huge. Each girl has a specific job to do. How’d you like to be my grape-feeder?”

The above reply is an example of agree and amplify. It isn’t the only way to answer shit tests, but it is a proven successful technique. There are other, equally good tactics, for dealing with Venus Vajtraps. The specific tactic you use will depend on your personality and the comfort you feel using it. The point is that as long as you recognize framing and have the confidence to avoid approval-seeking behavior, executing a precise alpha counterattack won’t be something you have to struggle to find the right words to convey. A solidly grounded “I am the prize” mentality and a sharp awareness of female filtering mechanisms will make the job of finding the right thing to say much easier.

In Walawala’s specific case, girls he has been banging for a while are preemptively bolting because they tell themselves he is a player who won’t commit. Again, the worst thing Walawala could do would be to try to allay their fears. That’s throwing chum in the water as hungry sharks circle.

His problem isn’t that girls think he is a player. That’s just their hamster squeaking. I have never known a girl to break up with a man because she convinced herself he must be good with women. She may bitch and moan (usually facetiously), but she won’t actually walk away from such a man. Particularly if she is hot.

There are exceptions. Less attractive girls sometimes find the will to walk away from high value men because they subconsciously calculate that his slew of options with hotter girls mean there is no future with him. So perhaps Walawala is slumming it.

Another reason why girls may leave when things are going well is if the man is telling girls about his multiple girlfriends after a few months together, when such surprising news could precipitate a breakup. Walawala says that isn’t the case with him.

Barring those exceptions, his LTR issue with girls isn’t the player vibe, but, more likely, not enough vulnerability game. If he wants these spooked girls to stick around, then he’ll have to soften the aloof edges of his alpha game. This isn’t to say he should jettison the supreme confidence that got him the bangs; it is only to suggest that he needs to show more signs — however shallow — of commitment. Men who sleep around often forget that women possess a duality of heart. They lust for those romantic gestures of fealty almost as much as the alpha strut of independence. It can come as a shock to stone cold players when girlfriends suddenly scoot after the three month mark because they came to the sensible conclusion — from their genes’ point of view — that the alpha stud they luv would make a better short term sperm contributor than a long term backrub servant.

One other point: It has been my observation that sometimes, when women cry “player!”, what they are really saying is “beta!”. If there are unsatisfying aspects of your personality or attitude that she doesn’t like, she will be prone to using the more socially acceptable excuse of “player unwilling to commit” to rationalize her loss of feeling for you and subsequent dumping. Many women are loathe to admit, whether to others or to themselves, that they are leaving a man because he became too chumpy, beta, easy-to-please, predictable, unchallenging, weak, unambitious, sexually tepid, or even overly committed. They’d rather sugarcoat the real reasons so they can sleep at night, assured that their peers won’t kick them out into the icy wastelands for being a grade A bitch.

Do not underestimate just how incapable women are of directly acknowledging the ancient forces that drive their ids. Here, as in so many other matters related to sociosexuality and psychological motivation, men and women diverge markedly.

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Posted in Alpha, Beta, Game, Rules of Manhood | Comments Off

A Man Stops Saying Insecure Things And Finds Success With Women

Dec 9th, 2010 by

In a recent post, I wrote about the fundamentals of pickup — namely, the attitude and behavior a man must exhibit to guarantee success with women. The critical state of mind that every master womanizer I’ve known shares is an aloof and indifferent, sometimes even scornful, attitude toward women’s opinions of them and the direction of their relationships. Women can’t help but love these kinds of men who can take or leave them; men who don’t bother to — or who at least don’t give the impression of bothering to — win women’s approval. Men who couldn’t give a rat’s ass if they unintentionally offend women. If you’re having trouble visualizing this attitude in action, just think of clinginess and neediness, and do the opposite.

This fundamental attitude of aloofness must undergird everything else; without it, all the game techniques in the world will eventually fail you. The good news is that tactical seduction and concomitant ego-massaging operate in a feedback loop; mouthing the techniques and experiencing positive responses to them is often enough to instill the proper attitude, i.e. inner game.

Revisiting this theme of pickup fundamentals, it occurs to me there are two more crucial attitudes that contribute to a well-honed and masculine inner psyche that girls crave. Listing the three fundamental traits of the irresistibly attractive and vital man in descending order of importance, they are:

  1. Be aloof. (Amused mastery)
  2. Don’t be insecure. (Irrational self-confidence)
  3. Dehumanize and objectify women. (This subject — the most controversial — will be discussed in a future post)

Every successful lady’s man in the world possesses these three core traits in varying degrees. If there is a man out there who is clingy, insecure, or prone to romantic pedestalization, yet still good with women, you can bet he has massively compensating attractiveness traits that allow women to overlook his effete attitudinal shortcomings. Think George Clooney or John Mayer compensating.

Regarding pickup fundamental #2, check out this funny post by a man who adjusted his attitude after his girlfriend dumped him. His goal? To stop saying insecure things, which he blamed for his failed relationship.

The best way of putting it is that for the past few months I’ve been working on myself.  My last serious relationship ended in August, principally because of my insecurity.  (This is not a break-up essay and is actually going to be about something really interesting, but the break-up stuff is necessary background information, so just hang on.)  When I say this, I don’t mean that my insecurity made me do anything.  She simply left me because I am insecure.  And I’m not complaining about this.  It sucks for me, but she was completely within her rights, and it would have been selfish of me to expect otherwise.  After all, male confidence is for women what female physical attractiveness is for men, so for her this must have been like dating a fat girl. This made no sense to me—just as, I guess, men caring about appearance to the exclusion of attitude makes no sense to women—but that’s what women are like, and I’m attracted to women, so I figured  I could either sit around and complain about it or stand up and try to change, so I did. […]

I felt like I had to either stop being insecure or lie down and die.  And then it hit me.  An elegant equation too simple and too beautiful to have been seen first, and all the more clearly true for having appeared at the close of a draining epic quest that took almost a whole hour.

The five most beautiful words in the language:  Fuck this, I’ll just lie.

After all, regardless of what Oprah says, women are not in fact psychic.  The only way they’ll know I’m insecure is if I tell them.  In the relationship that ended three months ago, I had made the mistake of taking women at their word when they say they want you to be honest about your feelings.  Well, I guess women aren’t exactly lying when they say this; it’s more that they just don’t mean it the way you assume.  Women do in fact want you to be honest about your feelings, but it’s not so they can love you better—it’s so they know whether to dump your pathetic ass. Women want you to be honest about your feelings the way the IRS wants you to be honest about your finances.  What I realized too late was that it was totally within my power to keep that relationship going.  All I would have had to do was lie about what I’m really thinking every moment for the rest of my life.

The results of his experiment in attitude adjustment — AKA game — will be no surprise to any regular guest of the Chateau.

Now you’re probably thinking that it didn’t work.  You’re expecting me to say that I refrained from saying insecure stuff, but girls didn’t like me any better—either because they could still magically tell I was insecure somehow, or because it turns out that girls look deeper than that and aren’t really as shallow as I was making them out to be.  But that’s not it either.  Girls—and, to be fair, people in general—really are as shallow as I was making them out to be, and the simple practice of never saying insecure things worked amazingly well.  To be perfectly honest, I had sex with more women this past September and October than during any year-long stretch of my life before, or all four years of college.  And I didn’t even go out that much.  So without becoming boorish here, let it be established that never saying insecure things really does work, and is incredibly easy.

Fundamental #2 (See also: Commandment XI): Be irrationally self-confdent. It doesn’t matter if you have no objective basis for your confidence — women are wired to get turned on by men expressing confidence, which can be as easy to do as simply refraining from expressing insecurity, as the man in the link above found out. So the next time you reflexively feel like putting yourself down to win imaginary plaudits or perhaps a pity fuck from women, don’t do it. Think before you speak. Better to be thought a silent alpha than blab your true feelings and go home a rejected beta.

He goes on to note that his new, non-insecure persona, while netting him pussy, turned him into a nonentity. He says that acting confident all the time instead of in his usual self-deprecating, insecure, but highly entertaining way — “I want to ask her every five minutes whether she really likes me and then not believe her when she says yes… Instead, I slap her on the ass and then lean against something” — made him an uninteresting caricature.

Two counterpoints to that. One, most men would gladly trade a self-perceived interesting personality for more pussy, if such a trade-off were available or even a reflection of reality. Two, the move from insecure to confident does not necessitate an abandonment of sparkling wit. A quick observation of all the supremely cocky and confident womanizers you have known should remind you that they are often the most interesting and fun guys to be around. A slap on the ass is a lot funnier, and sexier, than a despairing exegesis on one’s crippling self-doubt. Sure, a lot of newbs to game tend to reformulate themselves into cookie-cutter automatons, but that’s sometimes a necessary transition until they have internalized the proper attitude and can successfully couple it with their innately unique personalities.

Now if you despise women like some race of philistines incapable of finding the humor and the attraction in the insecure funnyman schtick, then you will either have to bury your resentment and enjoy getting laid, or stay principled with your calloused hand as an audience of one. This is the reality in which you exist. Perhaps in some alternate universe a version of you is setting vaginas on fire with hair-pulling laments about your A cup manboobs.

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Posted in Game, Hope and Change, Rules of Manhood | Comments Off

The Assange “””Rape”””: A Case Of Spurned Groupies

Dec 8th, 2010 by

So let me see if I have this straight.

Four months ago, fame-whore Anna Ardin had a few telephone and internet conversations with WikiLeaks badboy Julian Assange, a man she had previously only known as a name in the news.

A few telephone calls with an alpha male she didn’t know from Adam is all it took for her vagina to vibrate like a tuning fork. She invited him to stay at her unattended (!) place in Stockholm. She would be away on business.

When he arrived in Stockholm, the radical libertarian Assange “held court” at a local pub with like-minded admirers. The vagina tingles reached critical mass.

Assange’s alphaness must have been so powerful it was telepathic, because Ardin picked up on the disturbance in the electromagnetic spectrum from far away and returned home a day earlier than she had planned. SETI could not locate an extraterrestrial signal so precisely.

Assange was still at her place when she returned. She decided he could continue to stay. Scientists are baffled.

Within mere hours of returning and meeting this man in the flesh for the first time in her life, Ardin and Assange had sex. She is not a total slut, though. She would like you to know that they had dinner beforehand.

During sex, the condom broke. Both confirm this.

The two lovebirds were happy and friendly the next morning, as can be discerned by the fact that Ardin threw a party for him that night.

At a seminar that day, woman #2, Sofia Wilen, felt a strong rush of tingles for Assange because she read about him in the papers.

Wilen set out to meet Assange, by stalking him introducing herself:

[Sofia] would later tell police that she had first seen Assange on television a few weeks before. She had found him ‘interesting, brave and admirable’. As a result, she began to follow the WikiLeaks saga, and when she discovered that he was due to visit Stockholm she contacted the Brotherhood Movement to volunteer to help out at the seminar. Although her offer was not taken up, she decided to attend the seminar anyway and took a large number of photos of Assange during his 90-minute talk.

Lesson: A woman will move heaven and earth to meet an alpha male. When a man does the same thing to meet a woman he likes, he is slapped with a restraining order.

Assange and Wilen went to lunch together with Assange’s friends.

They flirted.

The attraction was mutual. Scientists, still baffled, wonder how an ugly but infamous mofo like Assange could be considered attractive by a cute babe.

After lunch, Assange and Wilen went to see a movie. But Assange had to part early, to attend the party that Ardin was throwing for him that night.

After the party, the future rape accuser Anna Ardin Tweeted that she was “with the coolest people” and that she felt “amazing”.

There were other Tweets of this nature that suggest a state of mind very unlike what one would imagine a recent rape victim would possess.

A couple days later, Sofia meets Assange in Stockholm. She then pays for his train ticket to her home in another Swedish town. Scientists, now knee-deep in bafflement, wonder why a young woman would pay the way of an ugly and poor but infamous libertardian badboy claiming he can’t get money because the CIA tracks his credit card transactions. Sofia’s hamster is about to collapse from exhaustion.

Maxim #21: Betas pay, alphas split, super alphas profit.

Later that night, the two self-satisfied, egomaniacal “activists” make sweet rebellious love as the world burns down around them. Assange wore a condom at night, but raw dogged it in the morning.

Sofia Wilen would later claim that she had asked him to wear a condom in the morning, but he refused. She opened her legs anyway.

On Tuesday, the following day, Wilen and Assange had lunch. She paid for his train ticket again.

Assange forgets rule #1 of successful womanizers: Do NOT concurrently bed mutual acquaintances, particularly those who are proud to call themselves feminists. Wilen calls Ardin, and the two women conspire a false rape charge to exact revenge against the man who treated the purity of their love so cavalierly.

At the police station, the women are interviewed by a female police officer. Charges follow. No, not charges of “cruel and unusual fits of jealousy” but charges of rape and sexual molestation against Assange.

Assange, a figure of ambivalence at best, has as a result of his recent arrest in Britain, epicenter of self-loathing, self-annihilating Westerners, earned street cred with REAL liberty loving men.

What scores of powerful governments around the world have been unable to do, two spurned groupies and a female police officer, along with the backing of the feminist establishment, have been able to orchestrate unhindered.

******

I think that’s the story. What can we learn from this? Let me be blunt.

If Assange is convicted of rape,
then we are all rapists now.

Every man who’s ever had a condom break, or who had condomless sex with a woman who agreed to the sex despite her misgivings, or who has slept with more than one woman in a weekend, is now a rapist. By these standards, half the men in the world would be locked up on rape charges. This is the logical conclusion of feminist thought. I’m sure they secretly love the idea.

Feminists and feminist enablers (you know who you are, you pasty-skinned sunken-chest droopy cartoon muscled faggy-faced white knighters who wear T-shirts that say “this is what a feminist looks like”), here is word from the Committee of Helpful Reminders:

Sex with a woman willingly spreading for a man despite his refusal to wear a condom, and then feeling regret about her sluttiness the next day, is not rape. It is not even rape in emasculated Sweden. Similarly, getting pumped and dumped is not sexual molestation. Hope this helps.

Anna Ardin’s ego was bruised, and her sluttiness broadcast to all her friends. As a result, she set out to seek vengeance against the skirt-chasing man she fell in love with over a heady late summer weekend. She even had a website devoted to plans for exacting just such a revenge scenerio.

Earlier this year, [Anna] is reported to have posted a telling entry on her website, which she has since removed. But a copy has been retrieved and widely circulated on the internet.

Entitled ‘7 Steps to Legal Revenge’, it explains how women can use courts to get their own back on unfaithful lovers.

Step 7 says: ‘Go to it and keep your goal in sight. Make sure your victim suffers just as you did.’

In a normal, sane society with a firm grip on what constitutes fairness and justice, hypercunty feminism-soaked revenge fantasists would have to consign themselves to acting out their aggression in their fucked-up heads. The only people who would suffer from their delusions would be the hapless also-ran beta boyfriends competing with the lingering memories of badboy alpha cock like Assange’s piercing the grateful labia of these heartbroken shrikes.

But we in the West don’t live in a sane society. Not anymore. Rabid attack cunts like Ardin and Wilen can now see their revenge fantasies breathed into life, aided and abetted by the feminism-industrial complex, cultural PC-ism, an allied media, and women in positions of influence where their natural inclination toward favoring social cohesion and grrlpower at the expense of justice makes a mockery of the institutions they claim to represent.

By the way, is there anything more repulsive than a “Christian feminist”, as Anna Ardin calls herself? At least you can enjoy a piece of ass with regular secular feminists, which helps makes their inane little opinions tolerable. But a Christian feminist is the worst of both worlds — teeth-gnashingly insipid and prudish. Wow, sign me up! Anyhow, it’s been my observation that self-professed Christian feminists are some of the worst man-hating cunts alive, truly devoid of any sense of empathy or even a rudimentary grasp of fairness. Anna Ardin, in all her glorious hamsterized self-rationalizing hypocrisy, fits the mold perfectly. This is how the Daily Mail describes her job in life:

While a research assistant at a local university she had not only been the protegee of a militant feminist academic, but held the post of ‘campus sexual equity officer’. Fighting male discrimination in all forms, including sexual harassment, was her forte.

If there is something more pointless to do with one’s life, I can’t think of it. The obvious pointlessness explains some of the resentment that people like Ardin nurse against the outside world, and against men specifically. The humanities departments of academia throughout the West have turned into mills for churning out ignorant, man-loathing fascists who envy and hate the inherent freedom of male desire. They are pinkshirts on the prowl for “incorrect thinking”, who see rape in the frosting on a birthday cake. Imagine a high heel stomping on a nutsack, forever. Why do men put up with this shit? Probably because they think assuming a posture of prostration will get them laid. Nominal alphas may have supported feminism in the past as a quick and painless route to easy sex, but today they are in the gun sights as much as any beta. To win at this war, you need true insight into the female mind.

Sweden leads the way in this fembot festival of absurdity, but the other Western (white) nations are not far behind. China will catapult to superpower status this century, not least because they have their heads on straight and see modern feminism for the productivity and innovation sapping insanity it is.

I’ve written before that false rape accusers ought to be punished the same as actual rapists, with jail time. It is as evil as real rape. Their lies destroy lives. Tossing them in jail for years will send a valuable message to women everywhere that they will not escape the consequences of smearing a man who didn’t fulfill their romantic expectations.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Current Events, Misandry, The Id Monster | Comments Off

Iron Rule In TV Commercials

Dec 6th, 2010 by

From a commenter over at J. Derbyshire’s National Review column:

I too have noticed the “iron rule in TV commercials”, but have refrained from mentioning it to family & friends to avoid being labeled a kook or a crank. Expanding on the rule: If a commercial includes more than one person, there will be “diversity”. The man is always the dupe, hapless moron or jerk. More than one man – it’s the white guy. Only women – it’s the white woman. I challenge anyone to find an exception to this rule!

I accept this challenge, and have enlisted a battalion of Chateau acolytes to watch hundreds of hours of TV commercials in my stead for the elusive exception to the Iron Rule of Dopey White Men in Any Scenario and Dopey White Women in Female-Only Casts. When the elusive exception is found and tagged, there will be a party at John Stewart headquarters where champagne toasts will be hoisted to the continued predominance of self-congratulatory snark.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Culture, Goodbye America, Pretty Lies | Comments Off

Sex Differences In Book Dedications

Dec 6th, 2010 by

Reader Joel emails:

Here is an observation I have made about book dedications and how they give some insight into the female mind. I would like your opinion about it. You may use it on your blog site, or not. I would like some of this to be made known to your readers.

Many of the younger men just don’t get the nature of women, until too late, that is. I suppose this is because the girls put up a good show, and virtually all of the young man’s socialization tells him very little but lies. I blame testosterone for a lot of male blindness to the female personality. It is hard think rationally about anything, let alone women, when your testosterone level is high.

But, clues are everywhere. For example, take book dedications. I work in the medical field. Many medical books, if authored by only one or two people (an increasingly rare phenomenon these days) will have a dedication by the author. Almost all medical books have been authored by men, and the dedications usually give recognition to a person or persons important in their life, like wives, fathers, and mentors.

A common dedication would be:

This book is dedicated to my wife, my loving companion and my constant inspiration.

Or in the older books, just a plain:

To my wife: Mary Alice Haagensen.

Fathers often get mentioned, eg:

To the loving memory of my father, etc.

My personal favorite from a giant in his field:

I dedicate this book to my father, whose love of truth inspired me in all my works.

This particular author was home schooled by his father. Just to show they don’t make them like that anymore, he was married to a nurse, and they both lived into their old age together. When she died, a friend asked him if he missed his wife or was depressed over her death. His response would be a nice epitaph for anyone:

To complain about her passing would be poor thanks for a lifetime of perfect companionship.

Often, the books are dedicated to their mentors, sometimes by name, sometimes generically. Also, sometimes to their students, who are given credit for inspiring the authors to greater efforts by their youthful curiosity.

So, now that women are starting to write books, and have been doing so long enough so that it is not a novelty and they no longer simply ape the customs of men, what do we see?

Two recent book dedications, from women professors at a major medical institution:

To Andy-my husband, my best friend, my constant supporter, and the most decent person I have ever known.

Now, let’s look at this dedication. Where does she say she has the slightest emotional attachment to him? I could have written this about my dog, and with more feeling. And, to anybody who knows the female mind, a “decent man” is the man who she finds distinctly uninteresting in bed. By God, she is advertising to the world that her husband is a dud. A complete beta.

A second example:

To Michelle, Ryan, Alice, Justin, and Christopher.

Sounds odd. Who are these people? The first four are her kids. The last is her live in boyfriend, who happens to be a professor in the same department. No mention of her husband(s). Or father.

These dedications are outrageous, in my opinion, but, such is the amoral mindset of women.

Don’t say you weren’t warned.

I find this kind of putatively trivial stuff worthy of my attention because I believe much wisdom and knowledge about the mind of women can be gleaned from it. In fact, and despite my many science-oriented posts, most of what I learned about women was gotten from simply observing them in real life, whether in their doings with me or with others. Yet, the science is fascinating for how often it backs up what I observe with my own eyes.

So seemingly little things like sex differences in book dedications, when viewed with an inquisitive mind unshackled from the chains of hoary platitudes, leads to a better understanding of the emotional and cognitive commonalities that almost all women share. This, in turn, illuminates for the knowledge-seeking man the deeply embedded thinking processes that guide the behavior — sexual or otherwise — of women.

Am I surprised by the curiosity that modern Western women are rather unaffectionate, masculine sounding, and even belittling in their dedications to the men in their lives, or that that often dump their lovers — sometimes husbands, sometimes live-in boyfriends — at the back of the line of a laundry list of people? Am I thunderstruck by the fact that the typical authoress’s book dedication sounds solipsistic, like a vajrap straight outta self-empowerment?

The answer, of course, would be no. But I didn’t need anyone to tell me that. All I needed was a willingness to see the world as it really is, and to flinch not at what I saw. In a sane, reasonable world, this would not be a monumental accomplishment on my part. But in the world bequeathed us, filled to brimming with the willing blind and their wicked pied pipers, it is a glorious imposition upon this veil of lies.

To my readers: sharpen your claws, tear the veil into tatters, and feel the tingles of the women.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Culture, Girls | Comments Off

Is Spain The Worst Country In The World For Players?

Dec 6th, 2010 by

A reader forwarded an article about Spain being the world capital of prostitution.

Prostitution is so popular (and socially accepted) in Spain that a United Nations study reports that 39 per cent of all Spanish men have used a prostitute’s services at least once. A Spanish Health Ministry survey in 2009 put the percentage of one-time prostitute users at 32 per cent: lower than the UN figure, perhaps, but far higher than the 14 per cent in liberal-minded Holland, or in Britain, where the figure is reported to oscillate between 5 and 10 per cent. And that was just those men willing to admit it.

Now you may, in your precious naïvete, think a country that has brothels on every corner is a paradise for womanizers seeking easy prey. If you define “prey” as women who will put out only if you pay them cold cash for services rendered, then you may have a point. But most players and connoisseurs of the art of seducing women to give it up freely would not consider paying for it a noble exercise of their talents. Nor would they think visiting a whore to be a worthy prize for the months and years they dedicated to learning game. After all, what greater pleasure is there than to bed a woman who embraces her surrender willingly? For some men, paying for it has its uses; but for men who pride themselves on their seductive prowess, a willing lover so overcome by desire she would be unable to charge for her wares should the thought even occur to her is the most exquisite conquest of all.

To meet this vast demand, an estimated 300,000 prostitutes are working in Spain – everywhere from clubs in town centres to industrial estates, to lonely country roads to roadside bars, the last often recognisable by gigantic neon signs of champagne bottles or shapely females, flashing away in the darkness. And recently, on the French border, Club Paradise opened with 180 sex workers, making it the biggest brothel in Europe.

Upside to an army of hookers: The average man gets a shot at experiencing the unequalled pleasure of fucking a beautiful young woman.

Downside to an army of hookers: The ranks of hot civilian chicks freely available on a weekend night are noticeably reduced.

As the clubs get larger, the clients get younger. According to studies carried out for the Spanish Association for the Social Reintegration of Female Prostitutes (Apramp), back in 1998 the typical client was a 40-year-old married male. By 2005, however, the average age had dropped to 30 – and it appears to be getting lower. “The kids are going because they see it as a quick way of getting what would take a lot longer to happen if they went to a disco,” Alvaro says. “You’ve got the money, you choose the woman you want and it’s all over and done with.” His own logic is even more brutal: “I go when I don’t have a girlfriend.”

And here we see the crux of the reason why Spain is a horrible place for players seeking to game girls into bed: The country is so full of hot, entitled princesses who play a mean countergame of hard-to-get that men are flocking to whores for some sweet relief. The dead giveaway is the quote that hooking up “would take a lot longer to happen if they went to a disco”. Spain is a country full of blue-balled betas and egotistic stuck-up bitches. In desperation, the betas turn to whores, and in response the whore business booms. The only other explanation for Spain’s high prostitution rate that makes any sense is the notion that Spanish men are horny bastards who need a platoon of girlfriends, wives and whores to adequately drain their balls.

In a player’s calculus for spots to travel, the hotness of the local girls is only part of the equation. He must also consider the susceptibility of those girls to smooth talking. If the girls are hot, but refuse to put out, that places the country squarely in the “scenic tourist trap” category. All show, no blow. Spain would seem to qualify, as would Argentina.

If the women are ugly, but put out on the first night, that places the country in the “old ruins” category. You get a quick fix of unsightly culture for the low price of bus fare. This is the option for swarthy Mediterranean men fleecing vacationing middle-aged Brit women of their vaginas and wallets. It is also the option for American men who prefer the tight holes of Thai ladyboys to the enormous caverns of obese American women.

If the girls are hot *and* put out on the first night, you have found Kiev, Vladivostok, Reykjavik, Warsaw an imaginary nirvana. This is the option for blog writers and diplomats. More about this, I will not say.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Foreign Girls, Globalization, Rules of Manhood | Comments Off

The Psychosis Of Single Moms

Dec 3rd, 2010 by

What happens when unmarried women chase down noncommittal cads, get knocked up by them, give birth to illegitimate bastards, and then languish in despair as they quickly notice their material well-being, love life, and dating market value deteriorating immensely as single moms? They have mental breakdowns!

This post brought to you by the Committee of Helpful Reminders that a national 41% illegitimacy rate is bad news for modern civilization.

PS The Committee for Proven Solutions as Opposed to Feel-Good Solutions offers the following four-point plan for ending bastardy and reckless single momhood:

1. Shame

2. Ostracization

3. Elimination of all state-sponsored financial support, including but not limited to food stamps and mandated maternity leave.

4. Condoms

In this Christmas season, we should all be so fucking humanitarian as the spirit of this post.

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Posted in Funny/Lolblogs, Goodbye America, Ugly Truths | Comments Off

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