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Relationship Game: Tender Lovemaking Edition

Apr 14th, 2009 by

I’ve been getting a lot of emails recently from readers who want to know how to square game with relationships. As has been discussed here before, game never ends. It is refined to suit the circumstances. In the beginning stages, your game portfolio is heavy on attraction and excitement stocks. Later, it diversifies into comfort and security holdings. But the fundamentals don’t change. You should be aware that after a woman has fallen in love she will begin to test your devotion to her as well as your alpha grace under pressure. So you see, the shit tests never die, they just reincarnate to annoy you unto your last breath. Fuck, my 87 year old grandmother gave me a shit test when I visited her at the home. “Grandson! You’re late! Do you think I can wait for you forever like one of your floozies?! Clock’s ticking!” I barely passed.

Here are some examples of what I’m talking about pulled from my own life:

  • Going to parties

When you’re in a relationship, you’ll be going to lots of house parties with your girl. This is because most likely she will have more “friends” than you, as it is a weakness of the female gender that they cannot survive long without oxygen or petty gossip. When you show up at the party, don’t hang onto your GF’s side waiting for her to introduce you to her judgmental friends. Walk in the door first, stay with her for about five seconds while she gets her bearings, smirk like the sadistic alpha warlord you are, then make a beeline for the liquor in the kitchen and get both of you a stiff drink. On the way, chat up people you know peripherally or don’t know at all. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you ever wait for your GF’s nudging or prompting to talk to her friends. The alpha way is the proactive way. She will be impressed as she admiringly watches you work the room like Jerry Maguire. And for fuck’s sake, don’t fret about leaving her alone for twenty minutes. Give her room to brag — or joke — about you. House parties with peers are one of the few acceptable gatherings where she will like being separated from you to talk amongst her yentas. This probably has something to do with the erotic charge of seeing her lover engaged with other women, yet still close enough to carefully observe in case you get a little too flirty with her mortal enemies friends.
Tip: When your GF introduces you to someone, don’t look at her first like a puppy waiting to be petted. Keep your eyes focused on the friend and shake hands.
Tip #2: Women are natural self-deprecators. When you and her are in a conversation with a small group mention your GF’s job or accomplishments. She will invariably humble herself. This is a great time to mildy rebuke her modesty and then praise her good work or taste. In the interest of social niceties, she will transparently balk at your praise, but inside she will love you for it. Mentally prepare for volcanic sex later that night.

  • Visiting your family

I had been dating this stunning girl for a year when I decided to bring her to a Christmas family dinner with aunts, uncles and cousins. She was the introverted type and did not do well in large groups of people she hardly knew. She also didn’t drink, so I knew that option was right out. Family gatherings are completely different than house parties. I would need to ease her into the scene. She was nervous and self-conscious. I stayed by her side for a long time, and gently pulled her by the upper arm when I wanted to talk to someone else. She followed without hesitation, and after a half hour of me chaperoning her I could tell she was visibly loosening up. By the end of the evening, she was comfortable enough to talk with my bombastically charming rich alcoholic uncle one on one.
Tip: When a family member asks what your GF does for a living, don’t answer for her. Let her do the talking.
Tip #2: Sit next to your GF at the dinner table. Pour her wine. Put your hand on her leg under the table and rub the back of her knee. Mentally prepare for cataclysmic sex later that night.

  • Making Plans

I was dating a girl for a few months. I made plans with her to go to the beach. She packed her beach stuff in the trunk of my car, sat next to me with a big smile on her face, and I started driving… somewhere else. It wasn’t until a half hour into the trip that she noticed I was driving the opposite direction. “Are you taking a short cut? The beach is the other way!” “Maybe. Boy, you are too quick for me.”  I teased her like this for a while before I surprised her with my new plans. We were going to a quaint bed and breakfast in the mountains, complete with jacuzzis, horseback riding and candlelit dinners overlooking the valley river. She squealed with delight. After her astonishment wore off, she began to complain that she had only packed beach stuff. I told her not to worry. I had packed an alternate suitcase full of more appropriate clothes for her.
Tip: Make plans, change them, surprise her. Just be sure to cover all your bases. Chicks cream their panties when you remember the little things, like bringing along her favorite wine or knowing what types of vacations she really loves. They really love it when you’re unpredictable without being sloppy with the details.
Tip #2: If she’s uptight about this sort of thing, tease her mercilessly for being anal retentive. Then sweetly assure her that you took care of all the contingencies. Mentally prepare for event horizon sex later that night.

A few other pointers:

Frequently pat her ass.
Compliment her beauty sparingly.
Draw a picture of her in crayon.
Play “butt spatula” in the kitchen.
Tell her mom she’s a MILF.
Curse her in a foreign tongue.
Compare her to a chihuahua.
Call her Paris Hilton.
Leave handcuffs in full view.
Drip hot wax on her nipples.
Buy a handgun and let her caress the barrel.
Reenact rape scenes from movies.
Be impervious to her taunts.
Act cagey.
Hide your money.
Buy her gifts when they’re not expected.
Don’t buy her gifts when they are.
Avoid PDA one day and finger her in public the next.
Bang her within a stone’s throw of:
a church.
a Dunkin Donuts.
a public restroom.
a school playground.
an outdoor wedding.
a caged zoo animal.
Scare her till she pees herself.
Hide sexy post-it notes in her panties.
Get used to saying the words “Enough”, “Shut up”, and “Turn over.”
Look fantastic in a suit.
Look fantastic in casual wear.
Look fantastic in anything.
Sound good.
Smell good.
Kiss good.
Strut around with supreme confidence.
Be uncannily successful at your job.
Blow people away anytime you say anything.
Take six-hour lunches.
Disappear for weeks at a time.
Lie to everyone about everything.
And drink and smoke constantly.

Basically, be Don Draper.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Game, Relationships | No Comments »

Getting Rusty

Apr 13th, 2009 by

Whether because of laziness, preoccupation with job and hobbies, or falling into a steady, comfortable pattern with a girlfriend, time away from the game will kill your game faster than cumulative rejections, self-limiting beliefs, or hanging with a beta crowd. It’s like high blood pressure, the silent killer. You don’t even realize your game is suffering until it’s too late and a beta embolism seizes you in a death grip.

I used to think that once you learned game it would stay with you for life no matter how much time you spent away from it, like riding a bicycle. Now, I know this isn’t true. Within a month of departure from the field, your game will begin to degrade. First your outer game will deteriorate, then your rock solid inner game — your confidence — will start to show cracks. Finally, if you don’t take active steps to counter the slide to betatude, you will completely revert to your old self. You see this a lot with freshly minted divorced men. They’ve been out of the game so long they have the mannerisms, attitude, and courtship skills of a socially retarded high school A/V club freshman, adrift in a sea of bitch sharks.

The Descent of Alpha follows this trajectory:

—> Master Seducer commits to a girlfriend or, heaven forfend, gets married. He spends most of his free time with her.

One month passes without hitting on fresh meat.

—> Master Seducer is out with his boys and sees a hot chick. Preparing to approach, he hesitates for just a second. Guilt over his GF? Or something much, much more ominous? For a brief instant he struggles to find an opening gambit. This is an odd feeling for him. The opening line used to come second nature. He can’t remember the last time he had to scan his brain for an acceptable conversation starter. Is his GF’s pussy fogging his mind?

Two months pass without hitting on fresh meat.

—> Master Seducer is walking down the sidewalk and notices a chick who is just his type walking toward him. He is sexually satiated from his GF’s loving daily ministrations, but a dying ember within compels him to summon the old swaggering dick-swinging demon. And this girl is just the one to inspire him. He makes his move, but to his astonishment he says something about the tourist season. Their friendly, sexually neutered conversation soon falls apart, as he knew it would. Curses! Casual game! His normally charming asshole game has betrayed him. He wonders why he said what he did.

Three months pass without hitting on fresh meat.

—> Master Seducer, who has by now been demoted to Master Beta Boyfriend, has not hit on a new girl since he met his girlfriend. He wakes in the middle of the night in a cold sweat wondering if he’s still “got it”. Determined to put his growing fears behind him, he takes advantage of a weekend his girlfriend will be out of town to hang with his crew and recapture the old glory. He figures he’s already got regular pussy, so he’ll be free to experiment and be as bold as he wants. In the field surrounded by all the glittering new beauties, a flicker of doubt briefly rattles him, but he forces it aside and strides purposefully into set after set like the King Dong he used to be. Unfortunately, his game is sloppy, scattershot, and misses the mark more than it hits. As set after set fizzles, he grows more timid in his conversations. He forgets fundamentals like hitting on the fat chick first and negging the hot babe early. He forgets to qualify. He even catches himself standing in a defensive posture. He goes home numberless, but consoled that at least he has pussy waiting for him.

Four months pass without hitting on fresh meat.

—> Our Master of Nothing has decided to throw in the towel. He’s got a great GF and maybe his new game-free outlook on life is the natural progression of becoming a well-rounded man. Like yin and yang, the alpha and beta must coexist. Too bad for our anti-hero his girlfriend has myteriously stopped giving him unsolicited blowjobs. She snaps at him for inconsequential infractions. He has stopped flirting with other women when they go out together. His egregious flirting at parties used to piss the hell out of his girlfriend, but the night always ended in floorboard shaking sex. Now, the night ends with a movie and soft, tender lovemaking — at least from him — that leaves her unsatisfied.

Six months pass without hitting on fresh meat.

—> Master of Herbs has done all the right things: He’s stopped catting around, he’s paid more attention to his girlfriend, he’s been a dutiful boyfriend with eyes only for her. So why did she leave him? All he knows is that he’s been thrust into the field, cold and unarmed, and his glorious past BG (Before Girlfriend) where he hardly ever went a week without new pussy is just a distant memory. He flails wildly in set. His confidence is shattered. He spends $5K for a workshop with Lance Mason. We can rebuild him. We have the technology…

***

The first thing to go when you have stopped gaming girls is your asshole game. Asshole game is like the dick in the coalmine. When it goes flaccid, you’ve got big problems on the horizon. Asshole game is probably the surest marker of healthy testosterone levels. It’s also the leading edge of tight game and the most sensitive to any beta backsliding. If you’re concerned about losing your mojo, pay close attention to your inner asshole. Have you stopped referring to girls as “bitches” and “dirty whores”? Have you stopped making fun of them and risking getting blown out? WARNING! You have taken your first steps betawards.

Ask your friends to observe you in set and grade you on your assholery. Third party feedback is invaluable for avoiding the dreaded fates of the Complacent Herb in a Relationship or the Lazy Beta Too Self-Satisfied to Bother. If you can keep your asshole game sharp, the rest of your game will be safe from the predations of the Beta Side.

Maxim #59: The longer you are away from seducing new women, the harder it will be to seduce one when you want.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Beta, Maxims, Rules of Manhood | No Comments »

Best Photo of 2009

Apr 12th, 2009 by

Yeah, we’ve got nine more months in 2009, but this photo will not be beat.

Can’t fault the polar bear. He knows a delicious blubbery buffet when he sees it.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Hungry Hungry Hippos, Ridiculousness, Tool Time | No Comments »

Best New Song Of 2009

Apr 11th, 2009 by

McDonald’s stock is up 8.1% since 3/1/09.

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Posted in Music, Videos | No Comments »

Great Scenes Of Game In The Movies

Apr 10th, 2009 by

In the last “Great Scenes” post I showcased the game run by Paul Newman’s character in the movie Hud. This time, it’s another classic move, Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, where super alpha Pee Wee seduces the shit out of Dottie.

My comments below are in bold. How do you handle it when a girl you like flirts with you? Pee Wee shows you how.

***

Kid: Is Dottie still working on your bike?

PEE WEE: No, I’ve got it back a couple days already.

Kid: What’s she doing to it?

PEE WEE: I can’t talk about it. James Bond kind of stuff.

[first rule of pickup: always be in character.]

Kid: Dottie’s radical with bikes.

DOTTIE: Hi, Pee Wee.

Kid 1: I say we cruise, dudes. It’s getting hot in here.

Kid 2: It’s steamy.

Kid 3: I’m sweating.

PEE WEE: Is my horn ready yet?

[pee wee doesn’t say “hi” back. it’s very alpha to skip pleasantries and get right to business.]

DOTTIE: It’s ready. It should be loud enough for you now.

PEE WEE: Where is it? Let’s hear it.

[demanding and brusque. alpha]

DOTTIE: Wait. I want to talk to you first.

PEE WEE: You are talking to me.

[there is a little overlap in temperament and attitude between alphas and betas, but there are also some things alphas do which betas almost *never* do. and one of those things is being a smartass. betas are hardly ever smartasses, especially with girls.]

DOTTIE: No, I want your undivided attention.

PEE WEE: *makes a face*

[nice face. teasing girls is very effective. and the best teasing is nonverbal, communicated through exaggerated facial expressions or body movements]

DOTTIE: Look Pee Wee this is important. I want to ask you something. I want to know, if you will do something?

PEE WEE: What?

[if you like a girl, and she comes on to you, a great way to respond is to act suspicious of her motives. so let’s say you’re in a bar and a girl you’ve been gaming reaches over to touch your chest. don’t jump at the first opportunity to make out. instead, say “heeey… what are you up to?” while giving her the stink eye.]

DOTTIE: I want to know if you’ll go someplace with me.

PEE WEE: Like where?

DOTTIE: The drive-in.

PEE WEE: Look, Dottie, I like you. Like! I like you.

[pee wee may be serious here and not actually like dottie, but if you do like the girl, playing a game of reverse LJBF can be a good way to heighten sexual tension. “oh i don’t know, carrie, i like you, but i’d hate to do anything that might… jeopardize… that. it’s very chancey.” be sure to telegraph your unseriousness with heavy sighs and head shaking.]

DOTTIE: I like you, too.

PEE WEE: There are a lot of things about me you don’t know anything about. Things you wouldn’t understand, you couldn’t understand. Things you shouldn’t understand.

[dramatic vocal tonality is so underused by men. all most guys know how to do is shout and bellow, like drunk fratboys. try experimenting with different voice pitches and pauses and tempos. it will add a theatrical flair to your conversation that is irresistible to women.]

DOTTIE: I don’t understand.

PEE WEE: You don’t want to get mixed up with me. I’m a Ioner, Dottie. A rebel. So long, Dot.

[The Golden Pickup Rule: Unless you can get a same night lay, always leave first. Always be the one to cut the conversation off. Always end the date first. Always be the one waving goodbye first. Chicks LOVE when a man walks away from them to journey… somewhere else, where only men with plenty of options journey. If you’re having trouble settling on a self-identity, you can’t go wrong with brooding rebel. This archetype is universally attractive to women. There’s probably a very good evo psych reason for it. So in a pinch, just tell chicks you’ve “got to be moving on. Don’t know where I’m heading, but I’m doing it alone.” Insta-pussy lube!]

Note: On a scale of 1 to 5, this post was 1 tongue in cheek.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Alpha, Game, Videos | No Comments »

How To Sell Yourself To Girls

Apr 9th, 2009 by

Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe…

I had a friend who was a stockbroker. He was good at his craft. When anyone asked him his secret to success, he always said “How do I kill in this business? Practice. In college, I had to sell myself to the girls!”

There are very few jobs or hobbies that, if described with 100% candor, would intrigue a girl to pussy exploding abandon. Espionage is one. President of the United States is another. You can’t go wrong with jewel thief either. But for most aspiring ladykillers, the word of the day is embellish.

Here’s how this works. Let’s say you’re a CAD monkey architect and your hobbies are biking to Whole Foods for smelly French cheese, building computers, and masturbating. Your only travel experience is a vacation to Turks and Caicos. (You’re in good company. This describes 98% of men.) Now most girls, if they’re interested, want to know what you do. They have a dedicated neural network pulsating in the pastel-colored folds of their girly brains that impels them to suss out how a man makes his living and how he goes about living. But, being women, they also have a contradictory twin neural matrix that would rather you not tell them the whole, eye-glazing truth. Their need to scrutinize is held in check by their need to fantasize. So this is what you tell her:

“Oh, I’m a creator. I guess you could say I bring together art and science in the design of living space. You heard of feng shui? I’m all about it. That’s the life of a cutting edge architect. My hobbies? I mountain bike competitively. There’s nothing like the rush of careening down a muddy, rocky trail in the scenic wilderness of a rugged foreign land, the giant fronds of tropical plants slapping you in the face along the way. It’s breathtaking! I’m also something of an electronics whiz and once tried to hack into a Chinese government website back when I was a rebellious kid. Some people say I’m a very passionate guy, so much so that I can hardly contain my passion. And to tell you the truth, it gets me in trouble more often than not.”

See? Not too truthful, not too deceitful. Like Baby Bear’s porridge, juuuuuust right.

Another example:

Real You: Intern at psychiatric hospital, avid music downloader, 70s porn lover.

Embellished You: Investigator of human social dynamics under stress, music critic and indie scene connoisseur (or DJ in a pinch), erotic art collector.

Women want the varnished truth. Every man with an ounce of common sense about women and a healthy streak of amoralism will polish his sales pitch. Even Brad Pitt glosses over The Mexican. It’s a testament to how ignorant the majority of men are about women’s motivations that so many of them won’t or can’t embellish their lives in service to their loins. They think in their honesty they are being virtuous, but they are only being boring, lazy and bland.

Some men will wonder how long the pretty lies can remain undiscovered. What if you want an LTR with a girl? She’ll find out eventually, right? Wrong. First, most girls don’t really want the 411 on the dirty little details of your tiresome lifestory or career, unless they suspect you of cheating. They *like* the ruse. Second, as long as they aren’t working in the same office with you they will never really know what you do. And you know what? They don’t want to.

Maxim #39: Never tell a girl how much you make, even if you’re loaded. In case of marriage, keep separate accounts.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Game, Pretty Lies, Self-aggrandizement | No Comments »

The Worst (Or Best) Rejections I Ever Got

Apr 8th, 2009 by

Culled from a lifetime of pussy hounding (and from what I can remember):

“Why would you even bother?”

“Seriously?”

[Looks at me with a blank stare, saying nothing.]

“Tch!” [Rolls eyes and turns her back.]

“Ok, I’m gonna stop you right there. See, I just saved us both time.”

“Oh my god, not again.”

“It would be better if you talked to her over there instead.”

[Grabs nearest guy and makes a big show of enthusiastically chatting him up.]

“You are SO not my type.”

“I’ve got five boyfriends. All filled up here!” (I thought that one was kind of funny and gave her props.)

“No thanks!” (This was funny considering all I had said was “Hi”.)

“This… right here… isn’t going to work.”

And the winning premeditated soulmurder rejection of all time (Happened in freshman year of high school, when LJBF was just a series of letters to me. She was a smoking hot senior. I was never one to shy away from a challenge.):

“You like me like that? Aw, that’s cute!”

It was this last rejection which ushered forth the demon unto the world.

If you aren’t prepared to brush off the bitchiest rejections like so much gossamer femsnark, you aren’t ready to play this game.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in Girls, Inner Beauty | No Comments »

Herb In The Wild

Apr 7th, 2009 by

Take a look at this photo.

making sweet herbly love

Is the person on the right a man or a woman? Neither. It’s a herb. Particularly, a subspecies of herb known as the hipster herb.

All the telltale indicators are here in one self-contained lump of flesh. The demasculinizing flip flops. The ungainly, loping walk that suggests the presence of a load in the pants. The baby soft skin from years of avoiding manual labor, sun and harsh soaps like Ivory. The slumped shoulders of meekness from carrying the ultimate calling card of the herb — the man satchel. I had to walk in front of them to verify the herb was male.

This herb is of the hipster variety. Notice the mop top hair, retro shirt sleeves, strangely androgynous countenance, and cute girl in his company. We can’t be sure the herb is banging this girl. Most likely, she’s a shopping and irony-laden cultural critic companion into whom the herb secretly yearns to dribble his tepid seed.

Why does the herb inspire my contempt? I’ve thought about this and I have an answer. The herb is nothing less than a physical emblem of the decline of America and a rejection of everything that made it great. As our SWPL women are getting more masculine and bitchier, our SWPL men are becoming human bean bags of suppleness. Sit on them and they’ll conform to whatever shape your ass is, because the herb most of all is a man who loathes the fiercer spirits of manhood. That’s why you’ll see them wearing frontal papooses and walking cats on leashes.

The hipster herb, the suburban family man herb, the art fag herb, the gender role smashing herb, the “I went to a formerly all-woman liberal arts college and I’m proud of it” herb — all 21st century versions of the new American Gollum. Pitiable creatures.

Oddly enough, a nontrivial number of herbs manage to score cute girlfriends. Scientists are baffled. Maybe they have an agreement — she gets to fuck around and he gets to continue treating her like a princess.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in The Big City Life, Tool Time | No Comments »

Update: A Second Herb!

Apr 7th, 2009 by

Thanks to the eagle eye of reader W Baker, a second herb has been discovered in the photo of the herb with satchel.

Unbelievable. Two herbs frolicking in the wild! What fortune. I didn’t even see the second herb when I snapped this shot. It’s like finding out your antique ceramic cat is hiding secret code from the Spanish-American War engraved on its underside.

As you can tell, the second herb is the subspecies “de-balled family man” herb. He is a prime specimen of his taxonomy. Just look at his firm two-hand grip of the stroller handle, the head held high proud of his emasculation, the papoose slung insouciantly across his chest like a beacon to all other herbs that, yes, here be safe haven for our kind. Stroller, baby, frontal papoose… is that a pink blankie over his elbow?… my god, it’s the perfect storm of herbliness. A magnificent beast! What could possibly make this better except for the not insignificant odds that, since this shot was taken in a yuppie habitat, our herb may be the rare breed known as the “two daddies” herb. This find is almost as good as the Zapruder footage of the paunchy papoosed herb holding mall shopping bags while his annoying wife shouted instructions at him.

I should send this pic to National Geographic.

[crypto-donation-box]

Posted in The Big City Life, Tool Time | No Comments »

Things Are Changing

Apr 6th, 2009 by

Case #1

I’m on a date with a girl from a small, poor Eastern European country. She used to live there as a little girl when it was still behind the Iron Curtain. After the Soviet Death Machine fell to pieces in 1989, she moved to the US and has been here ever since. I broke one of my cardinal rules and allowed her to get political on me.

ME: So you must have been pretty happy when the Soviet Union fell.

HER: Well, I wouldn’t say I was *happy*. More like, there were pros and cons. Universal health care was nice to have.

ME: [thinking to myself Oh christ, a commie sympathizer] Universal health care means a poor quality health system and long lines.

HER: Hey, you’re not one of those libertarians, are you?

Precious. Girls have balls these days to just blurt out whatever obnoxious thing enters their heads. They fear absolutely zero retaliation or consequence for their actions from men they date. Are men this desperate that we have bred an entire generation of ill-mannered bitches? I wondered what would have happened if we were talking about our careers and I had said something like “Hey, you’re not one of those lame nonprofit do-gooders, are you?” She would have huffed and cut the date short, going home to call all her friends to tell them what a jerk I was.

I decided the hell with it, and switched to Nuke the Pussy from Orbit game.

ME: Whatever I am, it’s probably 180 degrees the opposite of what you are.

HER: Well, who did you vote for?

ME: I didn’t vote.

HER: Whaat?! [looking shocked as if I had admitted to serial necrophilia] How could you not vote?

ME: Easy. I stayed home. Are you a Commie? What would you call yourself politically?

HER: I’m not Communist, but I would say I understand a lot of what they believe in. I’m more of a socialist. I like the free education and healthcare.

ME: You do realize that it’s not free? Everyone pays for it in burdensome tax rates.

HER: Well, Ok, it’s not technically free. But I think we should care for the people. It’s our responsibility to make sure no one suffers without health care.

ME: So why don’t you just pay for it with your own money instead of forcing people like me to subsidize your morality? [I was really beginning to enjoy myself. I noticed her body had stiffened]

HER: [getting torqued] Yes, I believe we all should contribute. It’s what’s best for society. You wouldn’t just let people die without help!

ME: It’s immoral to take my money away from me when I don’t want to give it. That makes you a dictator. Are you a totalitarian dictator?

HER: It’s not being a dictator to want to stop suffering. It’s basic decency.

ME: [sending a multi-warhead payload] I think it’s bad long term policy to prop up the poor and weak. The herd must be culled. Otherwise, they reproduce on my dime and drag everyone else down.

HER: People wouldn’t just die like that. They’d live in suffering, so you have to help them while they’re alive.

ME: [total war] Oh, they’d die. If all aid were stopped, the babies of poor and useless people would die before reaching their first birthdays.

This date ended without the close, but I have to report that despite my Nuke the Pussy game, there was a spark of electricity in her eyes. I bet not a single herb or SWPL had ever spoken to her like that before.

Case #2

I approached four sets. The first two sets I went in with casual game. This is where I make some innocuous but humorous comment about something situational, and let the chit chat move the interaction along into more fertile fields. For example:

ME: [after seeing a girl pick a piece of lint out of her girlfriend’s hair] You have excellent grooming skills. Guys would never do that for each other. We’d leave it in there and laugh at our friend all night.

HER: [smiling] Thanks, she would do the same for me.

Our conversation went back and forth like this for a minute, then died out. Friendly asexual vibe: 100%. Sexual tension: 0%. This was the kind of game that would have been more than adequate for my father’s generation, but today it means nothing. I did another set the same way with the same results. Then I switched gears to Asshole Game for the next set.

ME: [noticing her mode of dress and curling my mouth downward in reproval] I can’t believe you’re in here.

HER: What? What’s that supposed to mean?

ME: You should really be in Georgetown. This bar is a little too edgy for your type. Not that that’s a bad thing, but you know, I’m trying to save you any uncomfortable feelings being outside your element.

HER: That’s an asshole thing to say.

ME: Yup, I guess.

HER: And what exactly is my type?

ME: Prim and proper. Boring but dependable.

The conversation continued in this way for a while. She reacted with obviously faux indignation. But the results were much improved. Number close. Friendly asexual vibe: 0%. Sexual tension: 100%.

There is change in the air. The culture is shifting right under our feet. What I have noticed lately with more frequency is that I have to act like a dick to get anywhere with a girl, even the good girls. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as my dick game is pretty good and I enjoy doing it. But it seems that only dick game can break through a girl’s perimeter defense to the pulpy, juicy center of animal desire.

It wasn’t always this way. Sure, there were sluts who were so inured to getting played by cads and assholes that they could only respond to asshole game. These girls used to be around 20% of the population back when I was in high school. Today, that number has risen. It’s closer to 60%, and in bars and clubs in the city it may as well be 100%. The sweetest girls who grew up in happy families with mom and dad still together are turning into little playettes with adamantium bitch shields. This change has picked up the pace in just the last year. It’s finally happening. The game is causing girls to adjust, and screen for the biggest most congruent assholes, in spite of their intentions to the contrary. It’s evolution, baby.

I cannot respect a girl who dances like a puppet to asshole game. She will get the worst of me.

[crypto-donation-box]

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