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Icebreakers For The SWPL Chicks In Your Neighborhood

Mar 4th, 2010 by

Is your neighborhood infested with status whoring but irresistibly cute SWPL girls? Then you need an icebreaker tailor made for their fastidiously ironic sensibilities. Let’s say you and the SWPL girl of your infatuations are sifting through a selection of $10 jars of almond butter at Whole Foods. Unless you are a savvy shopper, most stuff at Whole Foods is ridiculously overpriced. Knowing this, you look across your shoulder at her and say:

“If it isn’t overpriced, I don’t feel like I’m getting my money’s worth.”

Wait for her to smile (she will, if she doesn’t take herself too seriously) and enjoy that moment when your pinkies touch reaching for the same jar of almond butter.

Now you’re at the local dog park, a place where SWPLs can feel morally upstanding for giving their dogs the opportunity to run free on a scruffy patch of 10 feet by 20 feet crabgrass (artificial grass if you’re at the Dupont dog park.) A tasty number sits down near you with her pomeranian in tow.

“The great thing about dogs is that you don’t have to worry about moving out of the city when they get old enough to go to school.”

What if you see the SWPL of your dreams at the local bike shop, where she’s purchasing enough biking accoutrements to outfit a small, fitness-oriented Central American guerilla army?

“I really recommend that aquapac. It’s good to be prepared in case you get stuck for weeks in the wilderness of Rock Creek Park.”

Close your eyes. Open them! Now you see a cute SWPL babe at a Georgetown consignment shop. She’s trying on musty old hats.

“That hat would be even cooler on you if it was a man’s hat. And it had an Olympics pin on it.”

You’re at the famed E Street Cinema in downtown DC. You’re standing in line next to a SWPL babe to see a sub-subtitled foreign flic of mega-ironic proportions. (It’s originally spoken in Czech, dubbed over in German, subtitled in French and sub-subtitled in English.) You capture her attention while waiting in line to buy a ticket.

“I hope this movie comes with 3D glasses.”

You’re at an outdoor concert, standing in line to use the Porta-John. You get her attention and say…

Well, actually, nothing. There’s nothing flirty you can say while waiting to use a Porta-John. It’s just too gross.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Game, Girls, The Big City Life | Comments Off

Unemployment Busting The Mating Market?

Mar 3rd, 2010 by

Zeets sounded like a teenager who just discovered his parents’ 1980s era VHS porn stash.

“Dude, the women are coming out of the woodwork. I’m getting more than nibbles now. The fish are hooking themselves as soon as I drop the line in the water!”

Zeets has been blowing up the internet dating niche for the past couple of months. Multiple dates per week, and women were reaching out to him, texting him constantly about times to meet and what he’s doing for the weekend. And all this in DC. It’s as if the heavens parted and pussy shone down on his head like a beam of light.

“Why do you think that is? What’s changed this winter?”

Zeets stroked his goatee like a young Zeus. “Well, I can tell you what I think is going on. Most of these women I’m seeing are unemployed. That’s a big change from just a year ago when they all had exciting and wonderful nonprofit jobs. Now all those precious nonprofits have dried up. Suddenly these women are out of work living in an expensive city. A lot of them don’t have two pennies to rub together because of grad school loans.”

“And that’s where a guy with a steady paycheck can step in and clean up.”

Zeets jabbed a finger of exclamation. “Exactly. You take a guy like me, who knows his way around women, and who has a job and steady income, and it’s like putting a bulls-eye on my cock. Women are gunning for it. They’re not so ridiculously picky anymore.”

This conversation got me thinking about economic trends and how they impact the dating market. In most of the country, men are filling the unemployed ranks, not women. But DC seems to be an outlier. Women here are feeling the sting of the recession just as much, if not more so, than men. Accordingly, out of work DC women are adjusting their self-worth downward, and in the process becoming less spastically picky about what they require in a man.

It’s no secret that DC women are full of themselves. 4s think they’re 7s, 7s think they’re 9s, and cunty lawyers waving their big vocabularies and multiple degrees think they’re supermodels. I’ve discussed many reasons why women would be prone to overestimating their looks. Now you can add unemployment to the list of factors that influence how a woman perceives her mating value.

Women, and a lot of men, are stricken by a psychological disease known as projection. What women find attractive in a man is what they think men find attractive in them. All else equal, women generally prefer men with a steady income to unemployed men. And so they mistakenly assume men prefer to date women with a job and income. But men and women don’t neatly mirror each other that way. If the woman is good-looking enough, most men won’t give a shit if she’s out of work. They’ll be thinking of the lay, only the lay, and nothing but the lay. In fact, many men will go out of their way to date unemployed women, because they justifiably think they can date up a point or two when their designation as a job holder grants them a relative boost in status.

Maxim #31: Any change in the relative status between men and women introduces new instabilities into the mating market.

Women, however, almost always assign too much importance to their own employment status and too little importance to their looks or weight when subconsciously calculating how desirable they are to men. This phenomenon explains why DC, filled as it is with hard-charging alpha globocorporate cunts, is plagued by haughty 4s who think they can play a 7’s game. It also explains why women, now that the jobs are disappearing, are beginning to lower their expectations in the mating market based on a distorted self-evaluation of their sexual worth. Soon DC will resemble the less economically illustrious parts of the country, where a 4 is properly reminded she is a 4 every morning she wakes up and looks sadly in the mirror.

As long as women continue to believe their job status matters to men, regions where the recession has impacted heavily female occupations are going to be boomtowns for men looking for a chance to play out of their league. That 8 you thought was too hot for you? Well, now that she’s out of work, she just might give your beta provider ass the time of day.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Culture, Dating, Girls | Comments Off

What Do Healthcare and Sex Have In Common?

Mar 2nd, 2010 by

If you want to know what people really prefer, watch what they do, don’t listen to what they say.

Canadian Premier Danny Williams goes to the US for heart surgery.

Commenter lena wrote:

Canada wins most gold medals.

Canada has better and free healthcare.

Oh no, you’re paying for it. And judging by the choices of those who are able to choose, you’re paying for an inferior product. D’oh!

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Current Events | Comments Off

The Number One Reason To Approach That Girl RIGHT NOW

Mar 2nd, 2010 by

You could pee on a power line and electrocute yourself:

Authorities believe a Washington man was killed by accidentally urinating on a downed power line after a car crash.

Grays Harbor County sheriff’s Deputy Dave Pimentel said Monday 50-year-old Roy Messenger was not seriously hurt after he collided with a power pole Friday and called a relative to pull his car from a ditch.

However, family members found Messenger electrocuted when they arrived.

Pimentel says Messenger apparently urinated into a roadside ditch but didn’t see the live wire. The urine stream likely served as a conductor, allowing the electricity to reach his body.

Pimentel says there will be an autopsy but burn marks indicated the way the electricity traveled through Messenger’s body.

Roast wienie! Think of all the ways you could die. An axle breaks and a bus careens into the sidewalk. A 14 year old mishandles a pistol. A congenital aneurysm bursts. A rotten tree limb falls on your head. It’s quite amazing you’re still alive and walking around today, is it not? So what are you waiting for? Express your joy that you’ve escaped death for one more day by chasing skirt!

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Current Events, Escape | Comments Off

Sexbot Armies Gather On The Horizon

Mar 2nd, 2010 by

For those of you new to the blog, I wrote about the inevitable sexbot revolution back in August 2007:

A robot that is an exact replica of your favorite supermodel and that has feedback to sound and touch (for example, she’ll move her limbs and gyrate during sex as well as talk dirty and respond to commands) would supplant all other masturbation tools as the preferred method of getting off for men who can afford it.  Once sexbots become affordable, internet porn consolidates to one or two websites for spank snobs who insist on “authenticity” and proles who must suffer the humiliation of not only being too poor to afford real women but fake ones as well.  But, outside of self-pleasure and procreation, would sexbots replace real women?

For some men, yes.  The replacement would be total, at least until the dating market adjusted to the new reality.  For other men, sexbots would be a part-time replacement.  The result will be a shift in the mating landscape that will put selection pressures on humanity equivalent to a massive plague or a catastrophic famine.

Sexbots are a very real threat to the established order because men’s sexuality is so visually driven.  Compared to women, it is a rather simple affair to create an alternative sexual outlet for men.

Everything that has happened since is gradually confirming the predictions I made in that post. If I was off, it was only in the surprising speed with which we are marching into a world of sexually alluring artificial women. The sexbot revolution is coming, and the (arguably) most beta male country in the world is leading it — Japan. Is anyone surprised that beta males are at the vanguard of the movement? The latest development is an interactive virtual girlfriend with juicy boobs that you can fondle:

Famed for its various 3D adult games, Illusion announced its latest title to be Real Kanojo (”Real Girlfriend”), an interactive virtual girlfriend simulator for the PC, featuring real-time interaction with the polygonally intensive “girlfriend” by way of web camera.

If you stand in front of the webcam naked, does she go cross-eyed? I wonder if the monitor has spooge capture.

UPDATE

Best YouTube comment so far:

can i poke her in the eye, slap her and then throw her off a building? just for fun?

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Biomechanics is God, Escape, Globalization, Hope and Change, The Id Monster, The Pleasure Principle, Ugly Truths | Comments Off

Storytelling AKA Fibbing

Mar 1st, 2010 by

In the course of your conversation with a woman you want to tell a story about yourself that flips those female attraction switches which Mystery so incisively described as “pre-selection by women, leader of men, and protector of loved ones”. But, honestly, how many men have those kinds of rip roaring yarns to tell which powerfully hit all those girl buttons? If you’re like most men, you likely have not led the life of an international man of mystery.

And of those men who *do* have stories like that to tell, how many of them are able to relay their stories for maximum impact? I’ve known quite a few Marines who spent time overseas in the middle of some crazy shit inexplicably tell their tales in such a way as to render them boring and ineffectual. You have to learn to sell yourself. Sometimes even top notch goods sit moldy on the shelves for lack of marketing and salesmanship.

This is where having a story (or a routine, in old school parlance) memorized and ready for deployment is critical to a man’s success bedding women. There is nothing inherently beta or creepy about memorizing stories from your life to use over and over with different women. Alpha males, indeed, are the biggest violators of the supposed sanctity of extemporaneous jiving. If you’ve ever hung out at upper class parties and the like you’ll notice the top dogs returning to the same well again and again, telling their stories in exquisite detail and precise manner, using almost the same words and cadence each time, because they have learned how to tell their best stories to ensure smiles and squeals of delight from their rapt audience. So go ahead and commit to memory one or two great stories that feature you in a starring role. Like a good Boy Scout, you should always be prepared.

So what does the man without a great story do? Well, my friend, this is where knowledge of the fine art of fibbing will take you far. I’ll illustrate with an example from my own life. Let’s say you have just asked a girl a beaver baiting question like “If you could wake up tomorrow and be anywhere in the world, where would it be?” She gets excited by this question and answers. This allows you to segue into a DHV story like the one from my life below.

THE TRUE STORY

One of my vacations was at a tropical paradise. Sun, sand, waves, fruity cocktails. After an uneventful plane ride, I rented a scooter and rode to the villa I was staying at. I paid a taxi to take my luggage to the same spot. Upon settling in and admiring the ocean view for fifteen minutes, I slathered on suntan lotion and trundled to a small beach alcove known for its nude sunbathers, hoping to peep at boobies and snatch. Once there, a couple of fat Europeans obstructed my view with their bloated nakedness. It turned me off. I moved down the beach away from them and read “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man”. Not the whole book, just the first few pages. I’m a slow absorbent reader. Then I went in the water and bobbed like a buoy. At 4pm, I walked to the tiki stand and bought a sandwich. On the walk back to the villa, I took a photo of three locals unloading crates from a red and yellow dingy docked at a tiny, empty beach. I watched them for a bit, when one of the gentlemen bounded up the craggy hillside and stopped directly in front of me. He barked at me to “stop taking snaps of my boat, mon.” Momentarily stunned, I looked at him like he was an alien. Finally, I said “Why? It’s legal.” He repeated himself, and threatened to steal my camera. I said “Yeah, sure, whatever” and walked off. Back at the villa, the concierge told me there was a drug running problem in these parts of the island, and that I was lucky not to get knifed. Relieved by my good fortune, I lounged at the pool until I fell asleep.

The next day, I went scuba diving. I was part of an instructional group, since I never scuba dived before. When I first plunged in the water I freaked out for a few seconds before gaining my composure and relaxing enough to breathe properly through the mouthpiece. A barracuda swam by me. It wasn’t very big or threatening. I could have petted it. Later in the afternoon I lounged at the beach again and ate another sandwich. The sandwich was delicious.

Day three. I decided snorkeling was more fun than scuba diving, so I rented some snorkeling gear and floated on top of the azure waters for a few hours watching small iridescent fish swim around. I got a sunburn on my back. I went to a club that night and hit on two French girls. One was interested, but she had a kid and an expensive coke habit.

Day four. More sunbathing. Oh yeah, and I went into town to browse the electronics shops and the ridiculously overpriced French fashion boutiques. I bought some liquor. Back at the villa I made a plate of brie cheese, baguettes, and red wine. The cheese made me gassy.

Day five. I went on a deep sea fishing boat to see how it was done. The waves were huge. I got seasick. My face turned green and I chucked over the side of the boat. The tall skinny black man operating the boat laughed at me. So did the little kid sitting next to me.

Day six. Having had my fill of sunbathing, I caught a ferry to a nearby island known for its excellent and invigorating hiking. The island was a dormant volcano that shot straight up out of the ocean. The hike was exhausting. 3,000 feet up took me all day. I saw a lot of green tropical plants along the way, and a couple of small lizards. I asked someone if the lizards were biters. They weren’t. I was disappointed. On the way down, I stopped at a small store and bought a trinket made of amber from an old, fat black woman.

Day seven. I went back to the same tiki stand, because why mess with success? They had tasty sandwiches. On the plane ride home, I jammed in earphones and listened to music.

***

Now this isn’t a horrible story, but it’s not exactly a panty-dropper, is it?

THE FUDGED STORY INTENDED TO INCITE MAXIMUM GINA TINGLE

[Addressing girl]: Your ideal vacation spot reminds me of the time I went to [tropical island] and wound up with an adventure I hadn’t bargained for. I was chatting with some French girls at this supposedly exclusive nude beach — and by the way, conversations take on a whole new feel when everyone is naked — when a big fat German dude plopped down right next to us. He was blocking out our sun like an eclipse, so we decided to leave. Since they were staying at the same villa I was at, I escorted them home. On the way, I stopped to take a pic of this interesting boat docked at a quiet beach alcove. Suddenly, one of the dudes unloading boxes from the boat bounded up the hillside and yelled at me to “stop taking snaps of my boat, mon!” I said, “What’s it to you” and he lunged at me and pushed a knife to my throat. The two French girls gasped. This was pretty scary. Thinking quickly, I told him that wasn’t a good idea because a bunch of people were walking towards us right at that moment. When he turned around to look, I grabbed one of the girl’s hands and dashed around him to safety just a few hundred yards away. He didn’t chase us. I told the cops about the incident, but as far as I know nothing was done. There’s a drug running problem at that island, and I got caught in the middle of it.

The unexpected adventure didn’t end there. I went scuba diving the next day and a shark that had to be ten feet long swam by me like a torpedo. The locals told me the sharks in those waters are harmless and won’t bother humans, but when you’ve seen them up close like that you don’t really believe all that bullshit. It was thrilling, sure, but I think I prefer watching sharks on TV.

I needed a break from all this unwanted excitement, so after an evening of red wine and French cheese while relaxing in the hot tub, I planned a hiking trip to a remote volcanic island that could be reached by ferry. On the hike up the mountain through thick rainforest and heavy fog, I stumbled across an old rickety shack with a sign outside that offered psychic services. Curious, I stepped inside and was greeted by an old black woman with an incredible accent. I don’t believe in psychic stuff, but I decided to let her read my fortune. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. She stood up and said the session was over. Then she handed me an amber medallion and said it was a soulstone, which I should only give to a woman I will be with for the remainder of my life, because the woman who receives it will then have a piece of my soul. I still have the stone.

Have you ever gone deep sea fishing? If you do, take anti-seasickness pills. The waves were rocking the boat to the left and right. This boy sitting next to me was leaning over the railing trying to touch the flying fish when he got sick and started to slip over the side. I grabbed the kid before he fell into the ocean and told him to be careful. You’ve gotta wonder where this kid’s parents were just letting him take a deep sea fishing excursion by himself.

After all that, I think I would have been better off just hanging out at Ocean City. But it wasn’t all bad. I picked up some French while I was down there.

***

Pre-selected by women? Nude French girls. Check.
Protector of loved ones? Helped French girls escape drug lord. Check.
Leader of men? Rescued boy from drowning. Check.

Much improved.

Don’t feel bad about fibbing. You are doing the exact same thing a woman does when she attempts to present her mating market value in the best possible light through the use of makeup and coy mannerisms. Seduction is an intricate weave of truth and fiction, and women would have it no other way.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Game | Comments Off

Canada

Feb 28th, 2010 by

Great job, eh. You held alpha male USA’s attention for longer than 30 seconds. And you did it without Jim Carrey making a face or Celine Dion neighing. Now what number were you on our speed dial?

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Current Events | Comments Off

Exes

Feb 28th, 2010 by

I strongly suspect at least one, and probably two, commenters who soil this blog with hater comments are (American) exes of mine. I think I know who you are.

I have a question. I’m sure you’ll read this. If it bothers you so much to read my blog, why do you do it? Do you get off making yourselves feel like crap every time you come here? Are you masochists?

I have some advice for you. STEP AWAY FROM THE BLOG. Seriously. Delete your link to this blog and never think about it, or me, again. You’ll feel a lot better and your aching heart will thank you. Have some dignity, for christ’s sake.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Escape | Comments Off

The Best (Only) Reason To Watch The Winter Olympics

Feb 27th, 2010 by

Exquisite. Let’s get a full body shot.

And here’s the lovely Kiira impersonating a DC lawyer chick:

It doesn’t suit you, babe.

I have fond memories of my time with a Finnish girl, who looked eerily similar to Kiira. I’m not anti-American woman, but I know a superior product when I’ve lain with one.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Current Events, Foreign Girls | Comments Off

Random Blasts Of Thoughts And Reader Emails

Feb 26th, 2010 by

Mr. Rudy writes:

REALLY IMPORTANT QUESTION

OK, maybe it’s not that important, but seriously:  do you ever feel slightly bad for Alpha-ing a chick to the point when she’s in a puddle of her own tears and you’ve moved on weeks or months ago??  I know what you’re going to say, but really, aren’t some chicks going to have a happier life never having known an Alpha and content in their Oprah-watching life, not asking many questions while they pass their days with some clueless Beta??  I say this as a full Alpha with maybe some Beta guilt.  Because I can’t count how many chicks I’ve done this to, where they are left to pick up the pieces and wonder what happened…

-Guilty (kinda) in San Diego

p.s. Think about it a while before you respond, it’s not as cut and dry as you think…

There are a few women in my life I feel bad about having hurt. A man who never feels bad for any women he has hurt is either a spergy monster machine or he has never loved a woman enough to feel guilt for causing her pain. I emphasize “few”. Only the vulnerable women who gave me every last ounce of their hearts received the blessing of my guilt when I hurt them. If I wasn’t selective with my emotions I’d be a diagnosed depressive spending my waking hours flagellating myself for the tortures I’ve inflicted on all those innocent babes.

Then of course there are those women who deserve the opposite treatment. Rest assured my karmic scales are balanced.

***

Anonymous wrote:

CH, much of what you say is hilarious, but filled with wisdom. I am dealing with something that needs your insight.

I have been dating a specific woman for two months, along with taking other women out.

On our first date, after a few beers, I told her, “If we have sex, you need to know that I will lick your pussy, you can blow me, and i will fuck you in the ass, but I won’t fuck your vagina.”

For two weeks, I got to do all three on an almost nightly basis….usually in my car.

Then, one night, having a sore back from the incorrect posture of sitting in the backseat foot well while enjoying lunch one too many times, I decided to get a hotel room.

She put the condom on me, then acted like she was backing her ass to my cock then quickly slipped it in her pussy instead. So, for the next hour, I let her rock out, then climbed on top to finish the job.

That was the last time we had sex.

I need to understand what happened.

For the next month, she seemed to flip out at the least misstep. Thinking I worked everything out, still no sex after the hotel.

Then, this week, I sent her a text, having not seen her for a week, “Hey Baby, I miss you.”

She sends back, “I know.”

Screwed in the head by this response (I wanted a, “I miss you, too,” response) I sent her another , “You know I miss you?”

“Yes, I do.”

So I text her back, “Then, good. I don’t need to tell you any more.”

Silence for an hour.

I text her again, “It really hurts that the more I tell you I desire you, the less you tell me you desire me.”

She texts back, “I have had it with your shit. Don’t ever call or text me again.”

“No worries. I won’t.” I send.

“Good, I won’t miss you.”

I text back, “I know.”

That’s the end of it. How could I have handled it better and not beta?

(Reason for no vag sex is because of some state laws.)

First, your texting was atrocious. Major Jumbotron fail. As for why she freaked out after vaj sex? A few thoughts spring to mind. She’s hyper-religious. She’s had an abortion in the past. She has AIDs. She was cheating on someone with you. She got indoctrinated in the interim by a Take Back The Night anti-date rape crusade of butch lesbians. I was thinking maybe you were bad in bed, but you wrote that you two did it for over an hour, usually the sign of a woman who is enjoying herself.

A bigger question is why you would tell her you won’t bang her in the vaj but you’ll do her in the ass? Is this supposed to be the 21st century version of chivalry? If there’s a state law against vaj sex (? is she underage?), then I’m sure it applies to ass sex as well. Otherwise, don’t assume a woman’s feelings about vaj sex are your moral crisis. Your job as a man, should you take it, is to seduce the woman and bang her every which way you can get away with. If she doesn’t want it in the vaj, let her decide that for herself.

***

Ariel wrote:

I just had a really good idea for passing these shit tests where the woman is seeking validation or compliments.

When you identify a shit test, for example a woman says “I hate this dress, it makes me look fat…” or something stupid like that, find the nearest guy, or even girl, and ask them if they like her dress or if it makes her look fat or whatever relates best to her shit test.

Being that generally people are polite, they’ll compliment or validate her INSTEAD OF YOU!

Instead of GIVING AWAY your power, you’re actually DEMONSTRATING POWER over somebody else, and making her FEEL BETTER about whatever she was concerned about at the same time. Everybody’s satisfied!

I just had to get that out there. It struck me as brilliant.

I like it. Very shrewd. Just be careful not to ask a guy like me if your girlfriend looks fat in that dress if she really is fat. I might stick the shiv in real deep and tell her that style is too revealing for a woman of her… class.

***

We’re getting closer to defeating humanity’s cruelest disease:

Researchers develop dietary formula that maintains youthful function into old age

HAMILTON, ON. February 11, 2010 – Researchers at McMaster University have developed a cocktail of ingredients that forestalls major aspects of the aging process. […]

The study found that a complex dietary supplement powerfully offsets this key symptom of ageing in old mice by increasing the activity of the cellular furnaces that supply energy—or mitochondria— and by reducing emissions from these furnaces—or free radicals—that are thought to be the basic cause of ageing itself.

Using bagel bits soaked in the supplement to ensure consistent and accurate dosing, the formula maintained youthful levels of locomotor activity into old age whereas old mice that were not given the supplement showed a 50 per cent loss in daily movement, a similar dramatic loss in the activity of the cellular furnaces that make our energy, and declines in brain signaling chemicals relevant to locomotion. This builds on the team’s findings that the supplement extends longevity, prevents cognitive declines, and protects mice from radiation.

Ingredients consists of items that were purchased in local stores selling vitamin and health supplements for people, including vitamins B1, C, D, E, acetylsalicylic acid, beta carotene, folic acid, garlic, ginger root, ginkgo biloba, ginseng, green tea extract, magnesium, melatonin, potassium, cod liver oil, and flax seed oil. Multiple ingredients were combined based on their ability to offset five mechanisms involved in ageing.

I’ll be a happier man than I already am if we can put a stop to the scourge of declining female beauty.

***

Because sometimes a reminder is needed:

Optimal Waist-to-Hip Ratios in Women Activate Neural Reward Centers in Men

Secondary sexual characteristics convey information about reproductive potential. In the same way that facial symmetry and masculinity, and shoulder-to-hip ratio convey information about reproductive/genetic quality in males, waist-to-hip-ratio (WHR) is a phenotypic cue to fertility, fecundity, neurodevelopmental resources in offspring, and overall health, and is indicative of “good genes” in women. Here, using fMRI, we found that males show activation in brain reward centers in response to naked female bodies when surgically altered to express an optimal (~0.7) WHR with redistributed body fat, but relatively unaffected body mass index (BMI). Relative to presurgical bodies, brain activation to postsurgical bodies was observed in bilateral orbital frontal cortex. While changes in BMI only revealed activation in visual brain substrates, changes in WHR revealed activation in the anterior cingulate cortex, an area associated with reward processing and decision-making. When regressing ratings of attractiveness on brain activation, we observed activation in forebrain substrates, notably the nucleus accumbens, a forebrain nucleus highly involved in reward processes. These findings suggest that an hourglass figure (i.e., an optimal WHR) activates brain centers that drive appetitive sociality/attention toward females that represent the highest-quality reproductive partners. This is the first description of a neural correlate implicating WHR as a putative honest biological signal of female reproductive viability and its effects on men’s neurological processing.

Executive summary: No fat chicks.

***

S. wrote:

Say you go to a bar and strike a conversation with two girls. One is really hot. The other one is a classic beta.

The hot one says, “Dude, you’re nuts, totally, Avatar, was, like, awesome! Hurt what? Sorry, haven’t seen that one. But, seriously, come on, Avatar was AWESOME! Like, fucking, really… I mean, great movie. Remember how he goes PFFF on that dragon? I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” And she wrinkles her pretty nose. And the bar stand is reflected in her eyes. When it’s not reflected, you can see the back of her head in there. Sort of.

The other girl is smart and funny and loved District 9. She wants to discuss the 2blowhards blog with you or the latest article in New Yorker. She is flirty and has a nice smile. The problem is… what was her problem? Oh, I remember now. Her BMI is 27. She’s not gorgeous. Her hair is slightly frizzy.

Needless to say, you are going to leave with the first girl. Right? ‘Cause, you know, she’s like, awesome, dude.  And you want to fuck, not discuss Almodovar. You already have a great outlet for your intellect – this blog.

Sigh.

I find your cynicism and rejection of bland political correctness refreshing. But I would love, love, love to talk to you in 20 years. Heck, make that 10.

Next time you are in Potomac/Rockville area, let me know. I have many more questions to ask. (Oh, and don’t worry: I am almost 40, have two kids, wear size 10-12, and am not interested in Greek alphabet measurements of human worth, even sexual worth. Just immensely curious.)

You keep writing.
S.

“PFFF on that dragon”. Lol.

Taking your scenario at face value (that is, I’ll dismiss for the moment the valid objection that it is presumptuous to assume a random hot chick a man meets must be a bubblehead), I’m afraid you won’t like my answer.

Here, across the internet where I can’t know what you look like, I’m drawn to your style. Left to my own imagination, I would have envisioned you as sexy as possible. But now that I know you are almost 40, with two kids, and a BMI of 27, you might say the blood has been let out of my chub. I don’t relish this fact. I’m a slave to my bioalgorithm as much as you are, as we all are. I cannot will myself to feel sexually attracted to an unattractive woman no matter how cleverly obscure her cultural references.

So the answer to your question is: yes, I would take the hotter chick home. And I would continue dating women who met both my criteria of physical attractiveness as well as mental stimulation.

***

Smoke wrote:

I have a super hot Polish cleaning lady. She’s maybe 22 and comes to clean through a service twice a month.

Any tips on closing her?

Ah, Polish girls. Beautiful, romantic, sweetly naive Polish girls. I have a gripping story about a Polish girl I loved that I thought about revealing on this blog, but decided against. Maybe I’ll save it for the book.

Tip: She’s a cleaning lady and foreign. Your status is already sky high relative to hers, so you need to connect with her by bridging the gap. Right now, she truly believes you are out of her league, and will likely deflect any of your flirting with her because of this. A little alpha-style self-deprecation is in order. (Don’t go overboard.) Learn a couple of funny Polish words and mispronounce them on purpose. She’ll giggle and correct you. You’re off to the races.

***

Sman wrote:

Hey!!!! Thanks again for another round of reader replies. I wanted to bring something to your attention.

A friend recently showed me a clip from the Tyra Banks show about women that train their young daughters to be gold diggers from an early age.

How early? The youngest girl there was 6 years old.

Early intervention is always best, I say. But a difficulty presents itself when attempting to instill the righteous values of reductionism in your little princesses — at 6 years old you can’t be sure she’ll grow up hot enough to successfully play the golddigger game. Parents of ugly daughters may want to take this into consideration and fast track their little monsters into Womyn’s Studies at the overpriced private grad school of their choice, where she’ll be safe from the predations of men and their penetrating rapebringers.

***

Anise wrote in a comment to my HIIIII!! post:

Talking about men, clothes and food with one’s girlfriends is one of the joys of being a woman and having girlfriends. Sheesh. I don’t care if you don’t like my tone. This is not your conversation.

As for the gays, they are owed a debt by aspiring PUAs. Grooming, fitness, hygiene, the glorification of youth and sexual pleasure über alles. Sound familiar, fruitcake?

Anise has a point. The influence of gay culture has spruced up some of the less appealing aspects of the straight male culture. It may not be palatable to a lot of traditional men with grit under their fingernails, but we live in a day and age when male peacocking is making a strong resurgence as an effective tool of seducing women. Yes, men who wear armbands and cowboy hats are drawing the attention of women and getting laid. I like to dabble in the gentlemanly art of fine styling, myself.

Of course, this works the other way. Gays left to their own devices, free of any societal shaming or disgust or benign influence from surrounding tribal groups, rapidly spin out of control, reformulating their world until it resembles a technicolor musical complete with frills, doilies, and dogs small enough to fit in shirt pockets. So gays with a touch of the masculine (and from what I’ve heard, most gay men prefer gay lovers who exude some masculinity) owe a debt to the straight males in their midst.

Btw, when you screech “Hiiiii!!!!” really loud so the whole bar can learn how well-liked you are by your peers, yes, it becomes a part of my conversation. Know that you are being mercilessly mocked. Suck it up.

[crypto-donation-box]

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