AshleyMadison.com, the dating cheating website for married people, had the second-largest number of sign-ups on the day after Mother’s Day this year.
Momlogic has exclusively learned that 31,427 women signed up for AshleyMadison.com yesterday — which is over ten times the average number of women who typically sign up on any given Monday.
What are AshleyMadison’s first and third biggest recruitment days? If you guessed the days after Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Day respectively, you get a gold cocka.
This “day after” trend is nothing new to AshleyMadison.com: Their biggest day of the year for female signups is the day after Valentine’s Day, and their third-biggest day is the day after New Year’s.
Why are holidays like these such turning points for women? Noel Biderman, president and founder of AshleyMadison.com, says, “Because they have expectations — expectations that their partnership will be celebrated and even romanticized — but that is often not what transpires ….”.
Expectation is just low rent entitlement. Hey, men have expectations too!
Men expect –
Sex on demand. And in various contortionist positions.
A variety of vagina. The same old, same old ain’t cutting it.
A home-cooked, low carb and natural ingredient dinner ready for us when we get home.
Women to chill out about keeping the house squeaky clean all the time. A pile of socks isn’t gonna kill ya.
Lots of gifts, like TVs, golf clubs, and tube amps. Using your own money.
Women to grasp that romance suffers when it needs to be “celebrated” on phony pre-arranged, corporate-sponsored days of the year.
Welly well! The expectations game goes both ways. Of course, some of us can realize our expectations simply by avoiding those things which are most likely to leave them unfulfilled. Like, oh say, marriage and kids.
I wonder what expectations went umnet for cheating women post-Valentines’s Day and New Year’s? The rose stems too short? The hubby too beta? The midnight kiss shockingly askew, careening to the right of center lip?
Biderman (a married father of two) believes there are several reasons why women turn to AshleyMadison.com after Mother’s Day in particular:
– On Mother’s Day, women in general expect to be celebrated by their partners. However, for many already suffering from a lack of appreciation, this day represents a continuation of neglect and disappointment.
– Women have affairs for different reasons than men. Whereas men are usually looking for sex, women tend to seek attention that they’re not getting at home. This lack of attention often makes them feel undesirable — and feeds their need for validation. [Editor: Corollary: Men have affairs for different reasons than women. Whereas women are usually looking for emotional connection, men tend to seek the sex that they’re not getting at home. This lack of sex often makes them feel undesirable — and feeds their need for validation.]
Men should start coordinating their cheating after Father’s Day. That way, in case they are caught, they can tell their wives that their infidelity represented a culmination of neglect and disappointment and a lack of appreciation they felt on Father’s Day. And it’d be more true, because as far as I can tell Mother’s Day enjoys a lot more cultural significance than Father’s Day.
Last Mother’s Day, momlogic spoke with a woman who said that Mother’s Day ended her marriage. “I knew Mother’s Day was off to a bad start when my husband informed me the night before that the holiday had nothing to do with him and it should be between me and the kids. [Editor: Your husband was right.] In the morning, I was handed a cold cup of coffee by my husband. My card and gift were left downstairs. The card and gift had been bought hours earlier, after my husband asked me, “So, what do you want, anyway?” No thought, no advance planning, no special effort put forth at all. It was so disappointing. I chose to sleep on the couch that night. My husband chose to move out. Mother’s Day essentially marked the end of our marriage.”
So there you go, honored American father. Your wife and mother of your children is now justified in spreading her legs for strange cock because you gave her a cold cup of coffee in the morning and didn’t hand deliver the gifts to her as she lounged in bed.
Modern American married women — the most entitled, self-absorbed, selfish, egotistical collection of cunty harridans the world has ever known. Blessedly, I’ve learned one way to avoid the worst attitudes and character faults of American women: don’t marry them. Unmarried sexual relationships where the satisfaction of receiving the preciiiiiious ring of power is continually postponed do a pretty good job of deterring women’s most unwelcome compulsions.
Enough already with the holidays for wives and mothers. It’s time for real holidays for men. I propose a Patriarchy Day, sometime in August would be great. On that day, mom blogs, celebrity blogs, feminist blogs… in fact, the whole fucking internet… shuts their pie hole. In the sweet silence, only the gentle slurping sounds of hummers will be heard.
Mystery discusses the attraction signals girls send when they are in the vicinity of a man they wish would approach them.
He makes a very good point toward the end of the video. In groups of two or more girls who are loitering near you, it’s the girl with her back to you who is the one who finds you attractive. In my experience, this is true almost all the time. It must be something subconscious which triggers a clutch of chicks to automatically arrange themselves in this manner. The advantage it offers the interested girl would be a chance to discuss with her friends — who have their eyes on you and are judging your reaction to their presence — whether you are checking her out and how alpha you are up close, while simultaneously giving her plausible deniability that she would like you to approach.
Randall Parker over at Parapundit sent a link to some social survey data that teases out a few important characteristics of girls who are most likely to slut it up. The results won’t surprise anyone who is a regular reader of this blog.
Urban SWPL chicks are more likely than small town girls to cheat on their husbands. This was (happily) observed two years ago at the Chateau.
Atheists, the nonreligious, and C and E pew warmers are more likely than churchgoing girls to cheat on their husbands. We can deduce, then, that blue city anti-Christian liberals are sluttier than red state Jesus-loving conservatives. Again, the Chateau hosts are happily, and opportunistically, aware of this social dynamic.
Really smart chicks are more likely than dumb chicks to cheat on their husbands. (And a thousand fembot haters caught themselves mid-whine about how only low self esteem dummies would fall for pickup artists. D’oh!) I wonder if this means Jewish girls are the sluttiest girls of them all? And if true, would that then make the fact anti-Semitic? Would it still be anti-Semitic if the positive and empowering feminist definition of slut were invoked?
Real estate agents and lawyers are considerably more likely than teachers and bank tellers to cheat on their husbands. The Chateau knew this was true from simple real life observations nearly three years ago in its popular and notorious post “What A Girl’s Job Tells You“. Excerpts:
Lawyer
Amoral alpha males with vaginas. Their yin is so deeply buried they spend all their free time (2 hours per week) fantasizing about a powerful dominant man releasing their inner woman. This is your cue to ratchet up the assholery. Outside of i-bankers and fashionistas, you will not meet a more materialistic or status-conscious chick than a lawyer. When she inevitably starts talking about what law school she attended and politicos she knows, put your finger up to her mouth and say “shhh… stop. from now on we will talk about happy things. tell me only the good things that come to mind about your childhood.” Most lawyer chicks have large clits which they use to pin you down on the bed. Making love to a lawyer means facefucking her till she pukes a little. The gods of karmic retribution will be pleased with this. Lawyers are always fucking over everyone else so this is your chance to return the favor. Proceed with great relish. Sexual Satisfaction Rating: 4/5th erection
Long Term Potential Rating: don’t be a masochist
[,,,]
Elementary School Teacher
Pure gold. Put this girl on your short list for long term commitment. What’s not to love about the elementary school teacher? Cute, thin (it’s a workout chasing kids all day), ultra feminine, nurturing, selfless, caring, and most importantly blessedly low maintenance due to the nature of her workplace environment sequestering her from the attentions of men. The best ones teach 1st through 5th grades. Women who supervise daycare are too toddler-focused and will love the kids more than you. You will soon tire of her coo-ing at every baby you both pass by. High school teachers are too stressed out from their job to properly service your manly needs at home. Don’t bother with college professors unless you think foreplay is listening to an earful of pomo feminist shrillness.
Bonus: teachers don’t make much money so your financial status will always be higher, guaranteeing a long and healthy relationship. Sexual Satisfaction Rating: 3/4th erection
Long Term Potential Rating: hope diamond (she’s not gonna have much opportunity to cheat at work)
It stands to reason that jobs which require a lot of testosterone and assertiveness to succeed in also attract the sluttiest girls. Testosterone is a leading precursor to infidelity. The slutty lawyer cunt with the overgrown clit is no figment of the imagination. She is real, and she is on the prowl. Jobs which surround women with a lot of men, and thus opportunities to cheat, are also a red flag for any beta hubby suspicious of his kid’s paternity. If wifey is a lawyer in an office that is 90% male, the odds she hasn’t taken a ride on the cock carousel are very low.
As an aside, I don’t particularly trust social surveys delving into the sexual habits of Americans because, well, people lie about their sex lives more than any other subject. On the number of partners, women lie down and men lie up. More relevantly, modern women have a skewed interpretation of what exactly constitutes sex. I can’t tell you how many girls have confessed to me that they don’t consider handjobs, blowjobs, or anal love as sex. This cultural definitional change, naturally, will skew social survey data about female sluttiness trends. The GSS does not capture this attitude shift.
Nonetheless, the data do give us a glimpse at sexual attitudes and behaviors. And what it shows is that the Chateau was well ahead of the curve in describing which kinds of women are the biggest sluts. This infamous post gave male readers information on how best to identify which girls are sluts. Female readers responded with a hail of indignation, for who can doubt that the ability to keep their slutty selves secret is a power most women loathe to relinquish, as important as it is subconsciously understood by women that high value men prefer to marry more rather than less chaste girls. The Chateau gates creaked open and permitted access to a dark labyrinth of the female psyche, and the demonesses howled at the light right on cue.
From all the above data, and from additional observations into the habits, behaviors, and phenotypes of slutty girls, we can now construct the perfect prototypical überslut:
She is –
A real estate agent, lawyer, or “creative artist”.
There you are, folks. A sexually aggressive, extroverted, narcissistic, high self-esteem, facially prominent, sarcastic, well-traveled, SWPL lifestyle living, overpriced downtown condo owning, atheistic, smart lawyer cunt is your best bet for easy, no muss no fuss sex and your worst bet for marriage. Don’t bother buying this girl flowers; you won’t need to. Staying faithful to such a woman in hopes it will encourage her to uphold her end of the bargain is a sucker’s bet.
Here is what the typical female überslut might look like:
How great would it be to have this cheery, mischievous, right of center womanizer as our il duce? Naturally, the Frenchman Sarkozy gives Silvio a run for his money in the beauty appreciating ogling department. Sarkozy, as befitting a leader of the land of S&M, looks like he’s about to give the broad a swift but loving kick to her keister. Silvio looks more focused, like he’s going to march over and hike up her skirt.
Obama looks… uninterested. And tightly wound.
PS Silvio has the best fitting suit of the group. Viva Italia!
I’ve found a version of one word game to be highly successful: one-word non-sequitur game.
It’s great for initiating text messages if you don’t really want to be the one to “initiate”. I discovered this accidentally by typing “yo” and pressing send, but the auto-correct changed it to “up”. It causes the girl to wonder what you’re typing about. And even better, she wonders if you were actually texting someone else.
It can’t be a long or uncommon word. Too implausible. It has to be a word one would conceivably use in conversation. Ideally, a one word declarative.
You may only be able to use it once on each girl.
Possibly the perfect choice? “No”
I like it. Non sequitur game is mystery bait. An odd word or fragmented sentence is like an eight ball to her head hamster — the little rodent will snort it right up and spend the next hour spinning frantically trying to figure out what you were saying, or — *squeal with delight* – whether it was meant for another girl.
I’ve done the accidental non sequitur text to girls, and come to think of it they did text back immediately, asking me to clarify. It’s a superbly sneaky tactic to trick a girl to chase you.
Some other truncated non sequitur game examples:
“see you at”
“leaving” (this one will trigger her threat of loss anxiety)
“we’ll see”
“wow!”
“cocka”
A similar version of non sequitur game is reverse eavesdropping game (REG). This is where you send a text to a girl that has nothing to do with her and is clearly not meant for her, thus inducing her to “eavesdrop” on your putatively private conversation. The REG text should be constructed such that it hints at your high value and/or social proof. Something like “bring the chips and i’ll get the booze. it’s gonna be crazy.” Or “hey troublemaker, how are those red heels holding up?”, which is quite devious since you have any number of plausible excuses to explain the text to her — “I meant to text my friend. She stole a pair of shoes yesterday” — but not before she has stewed in her jealousy for a while. The beauty of the REG DHV (aaaand two consecutive acronyms! high five me!) is how effortlessly it slips under your target’s poseur identification alert system. It’s almost as if a third party is communicating your high value to her. Naturally, she will be inclined to text back immediately, and this will mindfuck her into thinking you are a higher value guy than she originally thought.
REG texting is similar to trial texting. Text game really deserves its own book.
I love the chicks dig jerks series. Why? Because nothing better reveals the actual, instead of professed, sexual preferences of women than the real life men they boff. And quite often these men are the bunghole of society.
Today’s installment would be frickin hilarious if it weren’t also so bloody violent. Eh, it’s still a knee slapper.
Two pretty girls enter the ring to fight over one thug wannabe. One girl will not leave, killed when the other girl stabbed her in the chest with a kitchen knife and left her to die in the street.
It starts with a love triangle. Always best for bringing the drama.
He did it again, Sarah told her best friend.
Her boyfriend, Josh, kept saying she was the only one. He’d been telling her that the whole time they’d been together. More than a year.
But that day she found out he had been hanging out with his ex — this girl named Rachel.
All morning, while she suffered through school, Rachel was texting Sarah, boasting that Josh was with her. Again.
One of the leading indicators of alphaness is how many women fight over your asshole affections.
I’m so over it, Sarah said.
Maxim #73: When a girl emphatically insists she is so over you, she’s never been more into you.
He did it again, Rachel said.
Her boyfriend, Josh, had slept over the night before, then bolted. He swore he cared about her, but it didn’t feel that way.
Worst of all, she kept finding evidence that he was still seeing his ex — this girl named Sarah.
Playa gonna play!
For months, Rachel’s friends had been telling her to forget about Josh. She could have any guy she wanted.
It’s true. These pretty girls who pine for lowlife assholes have lots of choices in conventionlly defined high quality men. Yet they cling like baby chimps to their jerk lovers. Wazzup wit dat, B?
Rachel and Sarah hated each other, saw each other as competition. But they were more alike than either would have liked to admit.
And more alike to a hundred million other women. Once you strip away the packaging and the cocktail party fluff, women are essentially interchangeable. Players know this, which is why they swim in pussy while romantic idealists struggle to claim one overharvested plot of poon.
So who is this dashing Lothario the girls love with all their young hearts and open snatches? Meet Josh Camacho.
But the main thing Rachel and Sarah shared was Josh Camacho. […]
Josh had curly hair, the color of coal, spilling across sculpted shoulders. Black eyes, a long nose, wide lips curled into a sneer. His dark jeans hung low on his slim hips. He stood about 5 feet 5, but walked with the swagger of a bigger man.
Josh loved posing for cell phone portraits: flexing his biceps, waving a gun, showing off the tattoo that arcs across his back in inch-high Gothic letters: CAMACHO.
While seeing both Sarah and Rachel, Josh kept up a relationship with a third teenager, a girl he called “my baby mama.” They’d had a son together. He spent time with the baby but didn’t pay child support.
For a while, in high school, Josh cooked at Chick-fil-A and Pollo Tropical. But after graduation, he didn’t go to college, didn’t have a steady job or a car.
Chick-fil-A! That’s high status, ladies.
Here is a photo of the three lovebirds:
So what does this guy bring to the table? Let’s see…
Good looks? Not really. He’s got the skinny man six pack going for him, though. And of course the… ahem… exotic allure.
Money? Nope.
Job status? No.
Social status? Not any societally approved status. But he does have multiple women chasing him, which is a powerful form of social status. In fact, the most powerful kind.
Fame? Not when this was going down. But now he’s been preselected through the roof! Go long on his future lay rate.
Kindness, emotional support, and domestic chore splitting? No, no and fuck no.
Looks to me like this guy doesn’t offer women much of anything, if we go by what women — and the entire cultural apparatus — tell us that men should be offering them. But wait, there’s more. Here is what Senõr Camacho *does* bring to the table:
A cocky smirk. Slay lady, slay.
A righteous tattoo. Because how better to advertise your reproductive fitness than a self-referential tribute etched into your back?
A cool, unflustered demeanor. He knows the pussy is coming, so why sweat it?
And game. Oh yes, my friends, this kid has got game, and got it good. Keep reading for a prime example.
A lot of doubters of the efficacy of game insist that game is a charade that only works in the short term to fool women, and that women will eventually figure out the man doesn’t have “real” high status. Stories like this put the lie to that thinking. Game is its own status; the mere application of game is a demonstration of status, and not just a proxy for status. A cocky smirk and a devil-may-care attitude is as much real male status as a big bankroll. Often, it’s higher status. See: Mark Zuckerberg. This loser thug gets more and higher quality — yes, HIGHER QUALITY — pussy than a fucking billionaire.
And the continual application of game causes it to become second nature, an unthinking process, so that it is no longer a deliberate mimicking of the alpha traits women love but an extension of a man’s nature. Josh Camacho may have been born with some natural game, but undoubtedly his first successes with women reinforced whatever latent confidence he had, and the smirk that started as an affect soon became a subconscious reflection of his weighty ballsack and supercharged ego. Game will do the same for any man; the successes with women build on each other until your alpha pose isn’t a pose anymore. The opposite is also true: continual failures with women will build on each other until the latent, baby beta in you grows and consumes your soul.
Conclusion: if you want to nail good-looking women as efficiently as possible, and to keep them around fighting for your attention, start with learning game.
Game/charisma — One to six months to begin seeing results.
Money — Five to fifty years to earn enough to make a difference in attracting women.
High status professional career — Four to twelve years slogging through academia for the proper credentials.
Fame — Infinitesimally low odds.
Good looks — Luck. Or plastic surgery (see: money).
It’s a no-brainer.
Furthermore, if you want to bang the HOTTEST babes, learn uncaring asshole game. The hotter the girl, the more she will tingle for an unrepentant asshole. Corollary: if you want to date haggard cougars who’ve been plunged like a backed up toilet for twenty years and would settle for any old kind-hearted beta to help them raise their bastard spawn, then skip the asshole game. It’s overkill.
What was it about Josh that was so alluring? What made the girls swoon and dream of him at night and exclaim their undying love and tell their friends and family that “He’s special. You don’t see what I see in him” and stab a competitor in the heart in a jealous rage?
Well, here’s a telling glimpse at the source of his power:
Sarah texted Josh.1:06 p.m.: “Whatever Josh, you get so mad at me for everything but you don’t give a shit when she puts something up or says something. You always believe her.”
1:08 p.m. “It’s like no matter what I do she’s always that much better.”
1:13 p.m. “All we fight about is her or something that has to do with her, and it sucks. I hate fighting with you . . . I love you so much, but this shit hurts.”
Hours passed. Sarah tried again.
6:36 p.m. “You say you love me, but you don’t even have the decency to text me back?”
Finally, at 8:02 p.m., Josh typed, “Bring the movies.”
“Bring the movies.” Step aside, Skittles Man, there’s a new kid in town — Bring the Movies Man. This kid has mastered laconic text game. Overgaming man should take note. In the future, whenever I hit a stumbling block with a woman I’m trying to bed, I’ll remember the philosophy of “bring the movies”, and instantly my game will tighten and my ladykiller attitude will reassert itself.
Damn this chick isn’t calling me back? Wait… bring the movies!
Three dates and we still haven’t banged… bring the movies!
How do I reply to this weird text from her? Bring the movies!
She’s trying to make me jealous by flirting with another guy. Bring the movies!
She refuses to do anal. Bring the movies!
What else did Josh Camacho have going for him that girls found irresistible? He understood female psychology, and used that knowledge to his adavantage.
“When a teenage girl feels another girl is intruding on her territory, when she feels someone is disrespecting her, those are the things that upset them most.”
Josh Camacho may have understood this. Though he later denied saying it, his girlfriends remember him declaring, “If you love me, you’ll fight for me.”
Is this manipulation? Or romance? Whichever it is, in-demand girls can’t get enough of it.
Sarah was her dad’s sidekick. He took her to karate classes, Lightning games, Keith Urban concerts. She rode beside him in his cab, blaring the radio, singing country songs.
“Sarah loved to sing and dance,” said Danielle Eyermann, her friend since preschool. “She was always making up these crazy moves, pretending she was Britney Spears.”
Sarah also loved the cock of badboys. Like most hot chicks.
What I just wrote above is harsh, but necessary. The sugar and spice veneer needs to be stripped to the knotted wood below. Fathers across America need to understand what motivates their blossoming daughters, what primal forces shape their decisions and their reckless impertinence. For without that understanding, many parents will continue being hoodwinked by the predators in the weeds. And the predator isn’t who they think it is…
it’s their own daughters’ ids.
“[Sarah] just fell in love with [Josh Camacho], right then,” Amber said.
He said his name was Josh. Soon, he would be a senior at Pinellas Park High.
Two months later, Sarah told her parents she wasn’t sure she still wanted to be a veterinarian.
She didn’t know what she wanted to do, really. Except transfer to Pinellas Park.
Feminists wept. And yet, I’m sure they’ll find some way to rationalize the patriarchy for being at fault of dashing this young girl’s career dreams. Must be stereotype threat, or something.
Josh’s command of game is obivous:
Josh and Sarah flirted through the summer. But that fall at Pinellas Park High, he would hardly acknowledge her. He would just cut his eyes at her, Amber said, tip his chin.
In November, they finally got together. But even then, “he would never hold her hand or walk with her, claim her in front of other people,” Amber said. “When they were alone, he was all over her.”
Josh saw himself as tough and streetwise. Sarah pretended she was too. On her cell phone, she stored photos of Josh apparently smoking pot, Josh waving a gun. She downloaded hip-hop songs like Stop Callin’ Me and Chopped N Skrewed.
Chicks love men with strong identities. Josh understood this.
Where was Sarah’s father in all this?
She begged her dad for a pit bull. “You gotta be joking!” he remembers saying. He referred to Josh as “the rat.” He kept telling her, “That boy is no good.”
“But she was in love,” Charlie Ludemann said. “You can’t do nothing about a teenage girl in love.”
“The rat”. Pretty accurate description. Ok, so the father was aware the kid was a loser. But he sounds stupid — “can’t do nothing” — so it’s likely he didn’t have the brainpower to figure out a plan of action. Too bad, because there is something you can do about your teen daughter in love with a badboy…
You can ritualistically humiliate him in front of her. Nothing drains the passion from a girl’s love faster than a public diminution in her lover’s status.
Let’s see if the father took my advice:
He couldn’t keep Sarah away from Josh, so he invited Josh over for dinner, took him to ball games. To keep an eye on him.
“Don’t let nothing happen to her,” he said.
Nope. Instead, he elevated the kid’s status and welcomed him into the family. Dumbass. So how’d that “don’t let nothing happen to her” work out for you, pops?
Sarah had never been in any kind of trouble, but now that started to change.
In the first six months she was with Josh, police interviewed her six times, all over public confrontations. She and Josh screamed at each other at intersections. Yelled at Josh’s baby mama in the parking lot of the movies. Once, Sarah said Josh had punched her in the face and he admitted it. Her parents wanted her to press charges, but Sarah wouldn’t.
Chicks fall in love with men who hit them ALL THE TIME. It’s the dirtiest little secret about female psychology that the feminists try so desperately to keep hidden from public consciousness. I’m not surprised Sarah balked at pressing charges.
The next time her name was in a police report, Rachel’s was in it too.
Cat fights are sexy until someone’s pierced heart is spurting blood onto the street.
Soon a comment appeared under Rachel’s post. It suggested that Josh had “found better.”
Sarah didn’t feel she was worthy of Josh. Without a job or a car, how could she compete? Plus, she told her friends, she still had a curfew!
Rachel is so much prettier, she thought.
But she had already given everything to this guy — her senior year, her heart, her virginity. If he didn’t want her anymore, who would?
Rachel was cocky. How could Josh want anyone else? Look at her, she had her own car, her own apartment.
She was so much prettier than Sarah.
Camacho was playing these two girls like a fiddle. Master game. And all it required was an aloof attitude, an amused demeanor, and a terse communication style.
About 11 p.m., the time Sarah was supposed to be home, she and Josh were playing Wii at his sister’s house when headlights pierced the windows.
Josh recognized the car: Rachel’s red Saturn.
“Now I know why you’re not talking to me — because you got her,” Rachel texted Josh.
“That’s right,” typed Josh.
Alpha. No apology, no dissembling. If you thought that would turn off the girl, you thought wrong. The Betas of the Month winners could learn from this kid.
It’s a wonder [Camacho] had the dexterity: By then, he later admitted, he had thrown back five vodka shots and smoked seven White Owl blunts of marijuana.
“I don’t like you no more. Why are you down this street? Go home.”
I think I’ve ably proved the point of this post. To go on would be torture for the pretty lie pissants. I’ll just end on this game-unrelated note:
America is doomed. Way to go, progressive elites. GOOD JOOOOORB.
A federal judge (leftie female, naturally) blocked Arizona’s immigration enforcement law. Just to clarify –
An American federal judge told the good citizens of Arizona they could not effectively act to identify and deport illegal immigrants — invaders by another name — from the soil of an American state. Her decision, besides being utterly wrong, is traitorous. In a saner time, she would be stripped of her judgeship and tried for treason against the United States of America, with capital punishment an available sentencing option.
But these are not sane times.
Has there been a time in American history when the administrators and interpreters of the law were so at odds with the will of the people? The Judicial Branch, and in fact most of the legal profession, is stuffed with traitors. A great purge is needed. I cannot find it in me to be concerned how such a purge might proceed.
McArdle has a follow-up post to her contention that the men women love are girly.
Incidentally, I’m being accused in the comments of engaging in some sort of conspiracy to keep the Beta Man down.
These things are never conspiracies. They’re more like hindbrain blurts.
More on primate theory later, but for now let me point out that as a married woman in her thirties, I have very little possible interest in the behavior of the PUAs; I’m not their target, and they’re sure not mine.
Marriage is no plenury indulgence from the soul ripping cenobite chains of the sexual market. You are being judged always and forevermore, and you are always wishing to be judged in the best light possible, even though you may not have practical reasons for feeling so. Lest you think I’m kidding, tell me what happens to the glowing love your hubby lavishes on you if you bloat up 70 pounds in the next year. Similarly, let’s see how much love — sexually and otherwise — you feel for your husband should he find himself unemployed for years on end and devoting himself to herb gardening. The attentions of the PUA (or, as I like to call them, the freelance seducer) is just a single infidelity away. Don’t tempt disaster by thinking that dropping out of the fuck market is an acceptable lifestyle choice.
To a person with a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail, and to a person with a sociobiology theory, everything starts to look like some primeval competition for resources on the veldt.
The dismissiveness of the anti-reductionist (complicationist? squid inkist?) never ceases to amuse. All your extravagant and high-minded appeals to human rationality, individualism, and exceptionalism are but a coat of desperately hopeful rhetoric concealing the animal motives below. To those with the eyes to see, the veldt is everywhere. Indeed, the veldt is written into the machine code of your brain. The average American woman has a hippo grazing in her brain.
But it’s misleading to claim theory as a sole teacher. Years of messy real world experience and observation endorse sociobiological theory, while the theory offers guidelines to men looking for answers and a plan of attack. Game is, if nothing else, field tested and motherfucker approved. And that’s what gives it credibility, as opposed to the lofty academic discussions that waft like a stale fart across women’s studies departments. Once a tactic stops working, it is jettisoned in favor of something that does work. If a tactic is proven ineffective, it hardly lasts more than a few approaches before being discarded. And with the zoom zoom of the internet, proven tactics are uncovered and disseminated very quickly.
This tendency should be strenuously resisted; not everything fits into a neat primate model, whether your Preferred Primates are bonobos or silverback gorillas.
Human nature can be observed and analyzed to form a working generalizable sociosexual theory without resort to knowledge of the habits of our ape cousins. The fact that there exist those precious special snowflake exceptions that hearten rationalists and equalists alike does not disprove the rules.
My off the cuff observation was a genuine one; this whole thing sounds like what girls used to do.
Yeah, because we all know how much girls try to figure out how to pick up women. And “used to do” — what, have girls suddenly changed their nature in the last few years?
McArdle is conflating the learning process with the execution. For example, a PUA teaches himself how to walk and stand and motion such that he signals nonverbal alpha dominance which is universally attractive to women, and this process may sound odd to women accustomed to imaging courtship as something magical that “just happens”. But once the PUA is “in set” and executing his game plan it will all seem natural and unforced to the woman if he is doing it right. She won’t be thinking “oh how girly he is”; instead, she’ll be thinking “wow, this guy is kinda cute and really cool”. (“Cute” being the internationally accepted girl code for describing any man — cute or otherwise — they are attracted to but unable to verbalize exactly why they are attracted.)
And in fact, at some level the PUAs have to know that it’s not really particularly manly.
Men use many tactics to attract women. It’s just the socially approved ones that transfer wealth from men to women, like slaving away in a corporate hellhole and buying dinner at expensive restaurants, that don’t raise the shaming hackles of banal, unreconstructed feminists like McArdle. It happens to be the fact that game is successful because it co-opts a woman’s tools of the seduction trade to use against her. Qualifying? Negging? Teasing? Takeaways? Push-pull? Aloofness? All are tactics that women use naturally in their dealings with male suitors. That perhaps is why game strikes older women as girly; there are indeed elements of femininity in seduction, and it is well known that this is highly attractive to women. The classics of literature abound with examples. The best seducer must get into the mind of his quarry, and to do this requires a level of empathy that is almost transmutative.
In the final analysis, though, I doubt many men getting their dicks wet are gonna fret that they might be perceived as girly by a scornful married feminist.
Why do I think this?
Because you’re a masculine woman? nttawwt.
Because if your girlfriend (however temporary) caught you mimicking Tom Cruise in front of the mirror, or spending your spare time trolling message boards for magic tricks to impress women with . . . well, would she be more enamored, or would she slither out of bed in disgust and start looking for her clothes?
The mirror thing is a red herring. No freelance seducer spends his waking hours posing in front of a mirror to get his stance right. That’s the domain of bodybuilders. Dominant body language can be learned by observing alpha males in the field. As for reading online seduction material, I was once discovered by a girlfriend to be reading one of those forums. Looking over my shoulder, she asked me what it was about, and I explained it exactly as it was, describing the science of human social dynamics and male female psychological differences. I didn’t cringe in embarrassment or apology like some weaker betaboys would have. I was matter of fact. She became intrigued and read along with me. The only slithering that night was her receiving my meaty intrusion.
I am not against people attempting to upgrade their social skills, nor am I horrified at the thought that “beta” males will somehow sneak into the gene pool; after all, I live in the city often called “Hollywood for Nerds”.
Beta is a state of mind that can be found anywhere. It is anhedonic. Game is the cure.
But the combination of artificiality, superficiality, and manipulation in the PUA manifestos makes it really hard not to snicker.
Ok. So her beef with game can be best summed up in this:
Artificiality — makeup, zit medicine, pushup bras, high heels, wrinkle creams, nail polish, botox, bikini wax.
Superficiality — Lavish adherence to fashion and culture trends, consumption of celebrity gossip, fascination with the supernatural and occult, upholders of PC shibboleths, ingrained sexual preference for tall men, lantern jawed men, and high social status men.
Manipulation — Making a guy wait for sex, wearing sexy clothes and pretending to be offended when he notices, flaking on dates, coyness, not picking up the phone on the first or second ring, expecting paid-for drinks on dates, shit testing.
I wonder if McArdle is aware she has indicted her own gender?
By the way, the manipulation criticism is one I hear all the time from detractors of the crimson arts. It’s a tawdry conceit. All goal-oriented communication — verbal or nonverbal — is a form of manipulation. When a woman advertises her cleavage she is manipulating men to do her favors or otherwise impress her. When a man works hard at his job to buy a nice car and house he is manipulating women’s attraction mechanisms. When both refrain from picking their noses or farting in public they are manipulating people’s impressions of them. McArdle and her ilk need to get over this manipulation mental roadblock they construct to assuage their feelings of lost power. If seduction is manipulation, then women don’t want guileless entreaties. The spread pussy speaks louder than the snickering blog post.
A reframe: if soccer is the beautiful sport, seduction is the beautiful manipulation. The herculean efforts required of the vast majority of men to seduce women that strike McArdle as unseemly and calculating when compared to the relatively easy go of it women in their prime years have when setting about to seduce men is just a reflection of the biological inequality between the sexes in their value on the sexual market. Sperm is cheap, eggs are expensive, and all that. McArdle is mistaken to assume this disparity in degree of mating effort caused by intrinsic sex differences is proof of men’s venality or women’s nobility.
(We will return to our regularly scheduled programming of learning about actual game, rather than jawboning about its cultural significance, tomorrow.)
