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Secrets

A while back, I was sitting in my favorite bar savoring a delicious bison burger and a beer which I imagined was the best beer in the world because it had a long German name. It was a slow Sunday afternoon and the bar was nearly empty. Across the bar, about fifteen feet away, a leggy blonde walked in and settled on one of the stools, chatting up the bartender. She noticed me noticing her, and a flicker of nervousness froze her face momentarily. I had banged this girl on two separate nights many months ago. After the second banging, we (her? me? it’s unclear) cut off all contact. This was the first we had seen of each other since then.

A minute later, a guy came in and sat down next to Blondie. He leaned in to give her a kiss and she perceptibly flinched away from his approaching puckered lips. She looked annoyed. He smiled at her doofily while her face was turned the opposite way, then ordered a meal and talked about the game on the TV with another bartender. Every so often, I caught Blondie glancing in my direction. I made sure she knew I caught her.

I remember her mentioning something about a boyfriend she was planning to move in with when we hooked up, but like any well-bred devil-may-care alpha, I breezily dismissed it. An abstract concept. Not my moral crisis. The choice to cheat or not rested entirely with her. And now, here was the flesh and blood boyfriend, sitting mere feet from a man whose dick had penetrated his girlfriend’s wet pussy while he was setting aside separate dresser drawers for her panties, happily oblivious and looking very much like a normal dude.

I wanted fun. Feeling like a cenobite summoned by a fire and brimstone hellgod of the underworld to dispense the cruel justice of a sadist who loves to watch his victims squirm, I walked around the bar and stood next to her boyfriend pretending to get closer to the TV. Blondie wasn’t there; she had gone to the bathroom.

Me: Hey man, I don’t think the Skins can take Pittsburgh. Too much depth. [My inner voice: Your girlfriend’s pussy has depth.]

Him: What? It’s only the half. Pittsburgh falls apart late in the game.

[more sports small talk]

Me: This place is pretty good on a Sunday for watching the game. No drunk college kids. So you and your girlfriend come here a lot? [I saw your girlfriend’s labia.]

Him: Oh yeah, she’s a regular here, so I come once in a while when I’m in town.

Me: Yeah, I’m a regular too. I pretty much know everybody here, but I’ve only seen her around once or twice. So you’re from out of town? I respect someone who can make a long distance relationship work during these times. [I held your girlfriend’s long legs up pointing straight at the ceiling as I pounded her into submission]

Him: I’m planning to move into DC. We’re getting a place together. The long distance thing is tough, but you do what you have to to make it work.

Me: Yup. Number one thing: trust. Long distance can work if you can trust the girl. [She let me fuck her without a condom. I don’t know if I pulled out in time.]

Him: [looking over his shoulder at the women’s bathroom door] And if she can trust me!

Me: You know it! [She has blonde pubes.] Anyhow, if you’ve found a girl like that, hold on to her. I can tell you, those types are rare. [She sucked my cock like it was her last.]

[Blondie exits the bathroom and walks up next to the boyfriend, slowly taking a seat. Her face has gone ghostly white as she sees me talking to her boyfriend. I smile and wink.]

Me: Hey, what’s up. Nice to meet another regular. We were just chatting about the Skins’ chances for making it to the show this year. [Did your clitoris just quiver?]

Her: [eyes wide] Um, hi there. [her voice sounds artificially chirpy.]

If I had a hidden camera I would have taken a picture of her face right at that moment. The expression of fear, shock, shame, and even the blush of arousal was priceless. I detected a hint of nipple hardening. The hamster on her brain wheel was spinning frantically.

Me: Well, anyhow, I’m gonna get back to my food. I don’t want somebody else to eat it while I’m away. Nice to talk with you guys. [I shot a white hot load across the bow of her chest. A blob landed on the pillow next to her head. The pillow you have pressed your face into while sleeping.]

***

Tyler Durden has written about the Secret Society. One where nearly all the attractive women, their best gay boyfriends, and a small number of alpha players share the bounty of glorious pussy. It is an organically emerged society no one talks about, or even recognizes as such. But exist it does, in practice if not in formality. Sluts are left to be sluts. Fidelity is an anachronism; a false morality for those ignorati outside the secret society. Everyone lives for good feelings. People who cause bad feelings are excommunicated. Everyone is cool. No one is beta. No one judges, no one pretends to care. The spice must flow. These are the rules.

Then a real sadistic prick comes along. A gatecrasher. A puppetmaster. The rules were made to be broken, he says. And he does. Gleefully.

[crypto-donation-box]

Sarcasm Is Unfeminine

I had the following conversation with Zeets.

Me: How goes the dating circuit?

Zeets: That abrasive girl called me back. Her sarcasm is really grating.

Me: What was it this time?

Zeets: She asked me what I did this past weekend. So I told her I went to a Civil War reenactment, and she was like [Zeets affected a drippingly caustic tone of voice] “Oh GOD, don’t tell me you were one of those guys who dresses up in the uniform and everything. That’s SOO sexy.”

Me: It’s SOO sexy when girls talk like that.

Zeets: It’s unfeminine. It doesn’t make me want to have sex with her, I can tell you that. I explained that I went to watch and learn some history, but she kept being sarcastic. She can’t turn it off. I mean, I know she likes me since she called me, but she can’t talk like a normal human being for one second.

Me: What happened next?

Zeets: So I said “Well, what did you do this weekend? Yoga book club? Rescue an orphaned cat?” Then there was this long awkward silence. I relished it. There was no sound. I could hear her thinking on the other end of the phone. Finally, she says “Ach, I’ll just speak to you later in the week” and hangs up.

Me: You need a sweetie-pie. This girl wasn’t it.

Zeets: No, she was a vomit-pie.

*****

Sarcasm is a leading indicator of low self esteem in a woman. It is a masculine manifestation driven by the ego that cannot coexist with the inner feminine driven by the heart. A girl who leans on the crutch of sarcasm to thrash her way through a conversation is hiding insecurities behind a phony facade of gritty toughness. She sees the world through a lens of negativity. Her first instinct is to doubt sincerity in others, because she is herself insincere in everything she says and does. When your date wallows in sarcastic “humor”, you will know you are dealing with a girl who is untrusting, manipulative, and incapable of being vulnerable around you. She is afraid you will see right through to her core being, and you will judge. Sarcasm shields her self-doubt from you.

Low self esteem + fear of vulnerability + sarcasm = typical urban woman.

These are the key ingredients of the Bitch. She is inherently unfeminine. Screen for these types early and often, and let the betas suffer the Bitches’ weaknesses. They deserve each other.

[crypto-donation-box]

Reader Joe T. wrote the following comment to my post Screening Girls:

[…]Real alphas, as I’ve said, are not promiscuous in the solitary, alley-cat way. They are self-declared “empire builders” and creating a personal family empire (including marriage and kids) is as natural to them as breathing.

There are many betas who build bigger family “empires” than the typical alpha. See: Idiocracy. The desire for a family is not necessarily a defining trait of alphaness. If it were, there would be hundreds of my sprogs running around. But alphas who aren’t interested in raising bratty little kids who suck all the fun out of life can now have their cake and eat it, too, thanks to contraceptives and abortion.

I think everyone needs to go and re-read my post Defining the Alpha Male. It should clarify the common misperceptions I read over and over from my detractors. In short, the alpha male is best defined by how many hot women want to fuck him. Whatever else a man does with his life is irrelevant to establishing his alphaness. If he leads a small nation but women find him repulsive, well, no dice; he ain’t an alpha. Of course, there is a lot of overlap between the subset of men who can lead other men and the subset of men who could bed a lot of women, owing to the fact that women regard dominance displays by men over other men as one signal of male mate value. But leading other men is not a necessary prerequisite for effectively bedding women. It is just one tactic among many.

Reader PatrickH wrote this comment in response to Joe T. above:

Your alpha, the “empire builder”, has more in common with my manly type, though he’s obviously more ruthless. Most of my remarks wouldn’t apply to that kind of alpha.

I think your point is a shrewd one, however. Real alphas would never shy away from marriage and family simply because the deck is stacked against them by the law, for example. They wouldn’t fear that at all. They would never worry about being cuckolded, wouldn’t fear having another man’s child sprung on them. None of that is alpha…in <i>your</i> sense of the word.

In mine…yes, all of that is “alpha”. Just remember the scare quotes. The “alpha” of this place is a parody, a mimicry of the true leader, the truly excellent man.

“Empire builders” are, in our present-day collectivistically-cushioned, corporately-cordoned and contraceptively-contoured reality, more often than not beta male providers who are second and third choices of the women who settled for them. Many of these “empire builders” get cheated on.

PatrickH’s other points miss the mark. “Real” alphas are motivated by self-interest, not fear, when coming to the logical conclusion that marriage is a raw deal for them. Hint: It’s not the cuckoldry, it’s the divorce theft and enforced monogamy. Is it fearlessness to place a target on your chest and step directly in the path of the bullet, or is it stupidity? Rhetorical.

All “true” leaders started the same way as everyone else — they mimicked (i.e. learned from) their mentors and their personal experiences. Do not make the mistake of letting your envy blur your thinking; the womanizer who chooses to avoid marriage and the “excellent man” are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are more often than most people would admit to themselves, the same man.

Joe T. wrote again:

The term “alpha” came from naturalists and zoologists who studied the behavior of wild animals in nature.

All the animal alpha males that have been studied were truly dominant, and all put reproductive success — having a lot of offspring — first and foremost.

He doesn’t and therefore he’s not really an alpha in the strict, commonly-used scientific and sociological definition of that term.

Actually, the instincts that guide animals put mating success, not reproductive success, first and foremost. Animals are not aware that their fucking leads to offspring, nor are the alpha male animals aware that their violent victories over rivals will grant them access to more females. They just do what their genes tell them to do. Biologists use number of offspring as one measure of an animal’s alphaness, although number of copulations would work just as well.

Strictly speaking, a man who fucks tons of women while using condoms is thwarting his genetic programming, not his alpha designation.

True alphas don’t use game, they just do what comes naturally as an alpha.

This has to be the most dearly held misconception about alpha males. “Naturals” DO use game and have used it from an early age; they just aren’t as self-aware as men who learn game later in life. The only difference between naturals and “non-naturals” is when their journeys began. Opening your eyes to the true animalistic nature of women is best done at an early age, when such knowledge is strongly imprinted in the growing mind. Learning game later in life, when your adult mind is fully formed and burdened with good and bad experiences, will inevitably throw into stark relief a cognitive dissonance that must be overcome before the late learner can begin to use his newfound skills in a more natural manner.

Being alpha isn’t inherently different for humans just because we have the ability to control the outcome of the sex act and thwart reproduction.  Even an alpha human male would naturally, intuitively give a high priority to mating with lots of women to produce lots of offspring.

Correction: He would intuitively give a high priority to mating with lots of women because it feels so fucking good.

Since he isn’t naturally drawn to the family empire lifestyle, he cannot be a true alpha.

Kurt Cobain had one child and killed himself. If you want to argue he wasn’t an alpha by your “empire building” definition, you had better be ready to explain away the throngs of young female fans willing to jump his cock at the first opportunity.

[crypto-donation-box]

sloppy knob job of Obama was inspired by a lie? Perhaps he should consider writing in Bill Ayers for President.

Live by the credential, die by the credential.*

(*To the elitist mind, a published memoir is a credential that automatically establishes Presidential bona fides.)

In other news, the MSM is not a useful idiot, they’re a useful accomplice, and should be regulated as such. During election cycles, the NY Times et al. are no different than 527s.

[crypto-donation-box]

Girls And Politics

What do you do when a girl you are gaming brings up the subject of politics? Politics and religion are conversational buzzkills, no doubt, but sometimes when a girl is getting to know you she’ll be curious where you stand on political and religious matters. Usually, these are weird, emotionally unbalanced, nerdy girls who think that compatibility means you’re voting for her candidate.

One option is glib evasiveness. “Who am I voting for? I’m writing in Ron Jeremy. He’s a self-made man who knows that actions speak louder than words. That’s what this country needs right now — hard and fast.” If your date is a normal girl she’ll grasp your subcommunication and laugh a little while you change the subject.

Some guys who consider themselves inner game gurus would tell you to stay true to yourself and answer girls candidly when they ask questions about your politics. In this way, you screen out girls whose beliefs violate your manly principles. How noble. This strategy fails when EVERY girl of fuckable age shares the same political ideology. Here in DC, if you aren’t a flaming liberal, you’ll wind up screening out all your dates and living like a celibate hermit. (9% voted for Bush in the last election. 1% of those were girls. 1% of those girls were unmarried.) But at least you and your hand will have the satisfaction of sticking by your principles. This is lipstick on a pig game; the outcome sucks but you dressed it up real purty for yourself.

What I find peculiar about people who live in DC, and particularly the single girls of this fine City in the Abyss, is their oblivious penchant to assume you share their politics and think exactly like them. For a bunch of SWPLs that speak so eloquently of diversity and tolerance they have a hard time putting their principles into practice. It’s dehumanizing groupthink, but that’s always been a key ingredient of any quasi-religious revival. The upside is that you don’t get asked your politics too often, since they are assumed. Until election years roll around…

During the last fevered election, I had a number of dates who pressed me for my political beliefs. The matter was of utmost importance to them, or so they claimed. I used to evade. But that sometimes sounded wishy-washy. I tried blatantly lying to the girls I didn’t want as long term prospects. That worked, but then I had to deal with listening to them drone on and on about some pet lefty cause like the superiority of Europe over America or the evils of the wrong kind of white people. I got my revenge the morning after when I turned to look at her, brushed aside a wisp of hair, and tenderly whispered in her ear “By the way, remember that conversation about politics we were having yesterday? Well, I’m a huge fan of the Second Amendment. I love guns.” You never saw such a Hallmark moment.

Finally, I switched to telling them the truth, no hedging or excusing.

“I’m a libertine capitalist. I understand the limits that human nature places on ideology. Politics is not a religion substitute for me, so it doesn’t have much importance in my life. I don’t even vote.”

The trick here is I’ve avoided the typical political platitudes, code words, and shibboleths that would trigger her inquisition reflex. I’ve been truthful in a disarmingly eccentric way; one that naturally leads the discussion away from political posturing into more fruitful avenues of discussion. The phrase “human nature” can lead straight into a conversation about “social dynamics”, and then onto “girls have dirtier minds than guys”. Now we’re cooking with gas!

If a girl asks which party you are registered with, tell her “Independent”. If you’re Republican, you telling her that carries too much baggage, true or not. Chicks dig mavericks. If you’re to the right of Genghis Khan, you don’t have to worry about disagreeing with her — most girls get turned on when a guy is unafraid to say what he means — but you don’t want to be argumentative, either. Arguing will kill the sexytime mood right quick. State your beliefs with conviction, then segue into a different topic. Don’t linger on politics like some Daily Kos junkie arguing the minutiae of what is ultimately bullshit in the grand scheme of things. Keep it vague and philosophically Zen-like. If she insists on knowing more about your opinion of preemptive warfare or the Fairness Doctrine, just hold up your hand and announce you are changing the subject because politics bores you, and it’s a horrible way to get to know someone.

Telling a DC replicant woman you don’t vote is like telling her you led a coup in the Congo to overthrow the local despot. She will be flabbergasted… and intrigued. Such a reaction is only possible when your god is your political party.

Them and us, always and forever…

[crypto-donation-box]

Reader Mailbag

It’s another installment of Reader Mailbag. The previous edition can be found here.

Email #1

Great series this week on the different chick types. You think you can give some ideas/advice on how to break through a DC-specific subset of women, namely, the cold hard preppie country club (real or wannabe) girls who hang at Smith Point, Town Hall, Paolo’s, etc? It seems that unless you’re in their social circle, there’s no way to blast through their bitch shields. I’ve got above-average game but I don’t look/dress like that crowd and I refuse to wear pink popped collared shirts and pants with lobsters on them to infiltrate. Many of these chicks are super hot though. How does a gamer bounce these young rich chicks in to bed, aside from talking/lying about your trust fund and house in the Hamptons?

L.

My first response: Why would you even want these types of girls? Then I remembered — to corrupt their blueblood souls. Carry on.

Every type of girl is in a “social circle” unless she’s so ugly or fat she is forced to strike out on her own. Girls come preprogrammed to seek the protection and support of the tribe, so their first instinct when dropped into a new city and out of their parents’ house is to build allies and draw social boundaries. As a regular guy, you’ll find it just as hard to blast through a hipster chick’s bitch shield as a Georgetown prep chick’s bitch shield. The details may change but the bitch remains the same.

You’ve got two options; either play the rebel outsider to the hilt, or assume the accoutrements and tastes of the social group you want to infiltrate. Since you loathe the latter, you have to connect without the crutch of preapproved social cues. If you can expertly lie, and you’re only interested in quickie flings, you could pull a Talented Mr. Ripley act and crash their scene like a nouveau rich unknown from lands afar. The brooding artist outsider who gets invited to all the swank gallery openings is also an effective fusillade aimed right at the pretentiously status-conscious soft underbelly of the WASP crowd. If you can’t lie like a champ, any efforts to go blingo-a-blingo with the upper classes will fail; there will always be some dude richer than your lies.

My advice is to laugh off the money talk. When she mentions her daddy’s yacht, tell her your rowboat has better fuel economy. Class and money honeys are constitutionally drawn to men who don’t play by their high society rules. As long as you steer clear of any hints of resentment or insecurity, and talk about your passions in a way that she can’t help but love, you’ll have success. Oh, and don’t rag on the popped collar douches too much around her. While you might think glib putdowns of her social scene would build a secret world with you and her, it just as likely could make her defensive. It’s a fine line between edgy and bitter.

Email #2

Although I think you occasionally overreach, you seem to be onto

something, so I thought I’d ask you about small-town girls.  I lived
in a big city for a long time (and got plenty of play) before moving
out to a town of less than 100,000 and missing more often than
hitting.  There is something different about small-town girls that I
can’t quite put my finger on.  Any leads?

R.

Leads? See here. In the small towns, your number of pump and dumps will fall, but your odds of finding a quality girl for a relationship will rise. It’s simple sexual economics. Hotter, ambitious chicks with high circulating levels of testosterone flock to the cities to pursue their dreams (AKA make enough money to buy haute couture sweaters for their small dogs) and meet a great man (AKA fuck the same three dudes every other girl in the city is fucking). The difference you are seeing is that small town girls from good backgrounds (i.e. not trailer trash) are more feminine, less slutty, more traditional, and less likely to cheat. The downsides are that more small town girls are fat and uber religious. The big upside? Chicks in the sticks have little firsthand experience with game. They will melt under your onslaught.

Email #3

I have a cousin who has absolutely no game. He is older then me, and when we were younger I always looked up to him because he is really funny and incredibly smart. Now that I have grown up, I envy his job and money, but the fact that he can’t pick chicks up is really bothering him. While I’m not like a super player, I have never had much trouble with girls. The problem is that he has the potential but just cant get out of his shell.

He is new to the area, having just moved back to up state NY, and I haven’t been able to successfully hook him up with any one. This how ever is making it increasingly hard to spend time with the girl I’m currently slamming.

I want to help him, But a wing man can only do so much. What do you recommend?

Any guidance would be appreciated. He is getting to that bitterness that just makes it hard to be around him.

Thanks for your time,

J. D.

You can lead a cock to pussy, but you can’t make it penetrate.

Btw, for all you “alpha is a leader of men, not a bedder of women” believers, read this man’s email closely. His cousin has a great job and lots of money and was always looked up to because he is “really funny and incredibly smart”. Those are alpha traits that other men admire, but because of his lackluster skills with women, the emailer is getting to the point that he doesn’t even want to go out with him anymore. This is because the one thing men admire MOST in other men is their expertise at meeting and fucking women. The evidence is in the envy.

J.D., I would suggest, if you can trust your cousin, having your girlfriend wing with him. This will do more for his ability to get conversations going with women than all the professional pickup wingmen in the world, thanks to the powerful force of preselection. If she agrees to do this, reward your girl with tenderly administered blasts of semen to her face. If she doesn’t agree, sign your cousin up for a bootcamp.

Email #4

So here’s the deal. I’m [name withheld] from your blog
(please withhold the e-mail address if you’re planning on publishing
this e-mail) and I need help with this chick from my college.

She digs my best friend, and I kinda dig her too, and she has this
crazy bet that if I can get my best friend to reciprocate her
feelings for him, she’ll have sex with me. She’s seriously willing to
live up to her end of the deal. The problem is that my best friend is
somewhat of an orthodox Muslim and I think his religion even forbids
him from kissing girls before marriage. Also, I don’t think he has
any sexual feelings for the girl, even though I’d peg her at at least
a legitimate 7 out of 10.

So, how can I get my friend to like the girl so I can collect
on the deal and have sex with her?

This is so fucked up I love it. So she’ll have sex with you if you can somehow convince your best friend to want to have sex with her? Better yet, you have to convince him to feel attracted to her if he doesn’t already? And do it all facing Mecca and under threat of decapitation by enraged family members? Inshallah!

I’m just going to pretend this isn’t a put-on, because it’s what the readership would want. Fact: If a guy isn’t physically attracted to a girl, there is NOTHING she OR you can do about it. But who cares about facts? We’re in it to win it! Tell your Muslim friend that 72 virgins in the afterlife, and $100 right now, await him if he goes on a date with this freak chick and acts like he likes her. Tell him there is a loophole in the Koran which permits fornication with dirty subhuman infidels for the purposes of spreading Muhammed’s seed of truth. Now all you have to ask yourself is if this chick’s booty is worth $100, a mountain of lies, and a possible fatwah against your heathen ass.

Email #5

Thanks for your blog, your posts have given me immeasurable insight. A question (which you may post on your website without my details), the answer for which will be timely for me in the coming weeks.

Could you please name 3-5 karaoke songs which a (lesser) alpha male would choose as a first time solo performance? Also 3-5 songs which to avoid at all costs. You can assume no singing talent at all and a complete newbie, but someone who has no problem with stepping into the limelight and enough confidence not to choke.

Thanks in advance,

T.

Karaoke songs a lesser alpha should sing: Metallica’s Master of Puppets, Tori Amos’ Little Earthquakes, Pet Shop Boys West End Girls. Good luck!

(I’ll let the commenters have at this one.)

Email #6

so.  i’m curious about something and hope your vitriolic, narcissistic self might have the answer…

why is it that guys like audibles?  not in the football sense, of course, but in the sexual sense?  in the ‘i want to hear you moan/tell me how big i am/how you feel/what you want/what a bad girl you are’ sense?

maybe i’m just a slut…  but i’ve heard this from enough guys (and girls who are less slutty than me) to know that something doesn’t jive with guys’ ‘oh, we’re visual creatures’ thing…

hugs and kisses,

K (aka dirty blonde)

ps – dirty blonde was used when i posted about hair (it’s my hair color).  but i liked the double entendre so it stuck.

“Vitriolic, narcissistic self”? You know the way to a man’s heart, K.

Audibles (and by this I do NOT mean play calling; leave that for the lawyer chicks) are like negs — best in small doses. A little moaning here, a little grunting there, and an occasional gasp when, for instance, my member is throbbing in front of your face making you go cross-eyed, goes a long way. There’s nothing more annoying than a chick who can’t shut the fuck up for a second during sex. Incessant moaning like a retard who got bopped on the head tells us guys that you are either being a phonyfuck who really isn’t into the sex all that much and who hopes making exaggerated love noises will convince you otherwise, or you have watched too much porn and think this is what we want to hear. Personally, I lose my hardon when the chick in the porno moans the whole time and I’m forced to turn down the volume on my speakers. It’s distracting from the main show: The splitting of her vulva.

fucks and jizzes,

R (aka the man who gave dirk diggler penis envy)

ps: you said “stuck”.

Email #7

Here’s my “anonymous” question for you.

I agree with the approaches on chicks. I’m gay, and the less interested I am in them, the more they wanna get it on. Even times I’ve told them “I like the ass”, the still don’t get it. Man, get a chick going, and she won’t fuck off.

Anyway, here’s my question. How do your maxims apply to gay dudes? I notice a lot of comments you’ve made that women date ugly dudes, but men RARELY ever want to date an ugly chick. So, do you think the same sort of thing applies to the ‘mo’s: if you’re a sad, chunky, beta male, you’re basically hosed as a homo? Because guys want hot, ass or poon – period?

I know you’re def. not gay, but you probably have some contacts in gayland who can expand a bit on the “maxims” and how they apply to us b-pirates. And, for god sakes, it might just be a fun experiment to expand into some diversity. I still have a cock that needs attention. I mean, why not?

Or maybe you’ll just tell me to blow off, since this is all about the poon. But come on, we all just wanna get it wet.

Man, I’m eager to hear!

JP.

Redirect to: David Alexander.

Gay men have the same sexual attraction mechanism as straight men, except that it is oriented to the same sex. This means gays value youth and beauty in other men. Old queens are indeed hosed. Luckily, with all their discretionary cash accumulated from not having to raise children, they can afford the services of young male prostitutes. I’d imagine ugly gay men have it worst of anyone. At least ugly straight men can bring other things to the table, like charm or social status, to attract girls. Viewed in this light, it makes perfect sense why gays spend an inordinate amount of time primping themselves and removing all body hair. Gays are basically women who don’t lie to themselves that it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

So hit the gym and the CL Casual Encounters, cream puff!

“And, for god sakes, it might just be a fun experiment to expand into some diversity. I still have a cock that needs attention. I mean, why not?”

You have me mistaken for someone who is French.

[crypto-donation-box]

Open This Set

You see this six set across the room and start to walk toward them.

Let’s say you’re walking over right after they mugged for the club photographer, plastering themselves with phony smiles. How do you approach? Who do you address first? What do you say? What energy level do you bring?

You will have to observe a few things in the split seconds before you decide on your strategy. (In big all-girl sets, the best strategy is usually a formulation of divide and conquer. You want to isolate the hottest chick — your target —  and neutralize her ability to influence the entire group.) Notice their body language. Whose hands are draped over whose shoulders? Who’s laughing the loudest? Who’s dressed the sluttiest? Who’s holding an empty beer bottle? Who’s wearing black fingernail polish? Who looks like she is taken? Who’s the mother hen?

Go.

***

Bonus:

You’re standing by the bar in the above picture, at the event horizon of an attention whore black hole. You’ve an avid reader of the Chateau so you have a solid understanding of female psychology. What do you do next?

One option would be to backturn and ignore them. This situation is nigh hopeless. I would only turn around to order a beer, curtly saying “Excuse me” as I reached between one of the girl’s legs to grab my drink. Or I might make a big show of looking up the chunky girl’s dress with a huge shit eating grin on my face.

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Standing Like An Alpha

I was recently out with some old friends at a club. One of the guys, smart but beta-ish, was standing holding his drink. I walked over and told him I would position his stance so that girls would suddenly find him irresistible and guys would think he was cool. I moved his legs and feet about shoulder width apart, one foot pointed at a jaunty angle, and told him to rest most of his body weight on his left leg. Then I had him hold his drink down by his hip.

The change was instantaneous. Our group of mixed girls and guys stepped back to take a look at my friend with his new and improved stance. They were astonished at the difference it made. One girl even muttered “Wow” under her breath. The guys nodded their heads and were impressed. My friend was a man they had known for years — they were comfortable with his predictable and reassuring beta presence — so the conspicuous alpha vibe the new stance projected had everyone amazed and slightly disturbed.

With a simple adjustment of his legs and feet my friend had gone from an invisible beta to an intriguing figure in the middle of the crowd. More girls would now be open to his approach.

This alpha stance is not random. It’s a classical pose called contrapposto that Michelangelo sculpted for his masterpiece David. It suggests a relaxed and vulnerable appearance, exactly the sort of self-possessed mental state an alpha male would convey through his body language. I believe girls are hardwired deep in their electric hams to be sexually drawn to a man standing contrapposto.

Most people find it unsettling that such a banal detail like foot positioning could trigger an attraction reflex in women, but the noble mysteries of human nature are only made so by our insistence. For those with the eyes to see, reality constantly reminds us we are not poetically transcendent creatures. We are animals.

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Screening Girls

Women choose, men are chosen. This is the basic tenet of evolutionary mate selection. So does this mean there is nothing men can do to put more power in their own hands? Absolutely not. Paradoxically, the role of being chooser has made women susceptible to men acting as the chooser. A man who chooses women, whether in reality or perception, signals he is high value to a woman. This is why schools of seduction teach the importance of “qualifying”. Girls will say they don’t want to be lined up like cattle and chosen by men, but in practice they secretly yearn for a man to have standards and ruthlessly apply them, in the same way they do to men. A woman loves to feel special that her man chose her over other options he had… until he dumps her for a hotter chick.

In light of this fact of female nature, here are some screening tests you could apply to women you are dating. You don’t have to believe in all of your high standards, you just have to act like you do. For instance, I don’t really care if a woman has banged guys in different cities around the world likes to travel, but I qualify her as if this was critically important to my continuing interest in her.

“The last girl I dated was very provincial. I’m a mentally active man who challenges himself, and I can’t be with someone who won’t join me in my adventures. So are you the adventurous type who seeks new experiences?”

She will now be like putty in your hands, insisting she LOVES to travel and enjoys learning about new cultures. Segue into pussy pounding.

Fake your high standards until you are banging enough quality pussy that you have internalized your high standards. At that point, not only will you be dumping chicks for major infractions like lying and dullness and weight gain, you’ll be dumping them for minor things like owning too many shoes.

Examples

Screening her for anti-marriage beliefs:

You: One thing that’s important to me is that the girl I’m with doesn’t feel pressured to conform to societal expectations. She has her own mind and values her independence. She’s cool with loving, long term relationships that don’t need to be validated by a Justice of the Peace.

Screening her for loathing of children:

You: When you see a cute little kid snotting himself in the mall and rubbing his germs all over everything, what do you think? They’re such a responsibility that saps life of all its joy, would you agree?

Screening her for generosity:

You: Do you know how to give a good backrub?

Screening her for fidelity:

You: What do you feel about guys who like to keep their options open and date around until they find that perfect match?

(Note: This is reverse psychology. The more she hates on guys who date around, the likelier it is she is doing the same.)

Screening her for wife and mother potential:

You: I really like girls who have a crazy streak and no hang-ups. Have you ever let a guy snort coke off your ass?

Screening her for sluttiness:

You: On a scale from 1 to 10, how would you rate your blowjob technique?

Screening her for femininity:

You: Have you ever, or are you now, working for a law firm in any capacity or going to law school?

Screening her for romanticism:

You: I like girls who can have a great time with me spending no money just walking around the tidal pool at midnight and staring at the stars in the sky. (Wait for her reaction. If she’s a money or status whore, you’ll see a quick flash of disgust cross her face before she settles on the appropriate answer.)

Screening her for willingness to please you:

You: I can only be with a girl who likes to exercise, not one who sees it as a chore.

******

These screening tests should get you started. If you’re looking to just get laid, you’ll want to toss softballs and screen her for things she is eager to confirm — like love of travel. For girlfriend screenings, you’ll want to bang her first, then apply more vigorous screens to weed out those girls who would be a waste of your resources.

But the best screening test I’ve found BY FAR is looking at a picture of her mother — there’s your future, buddy. Choose wisely.

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Beauty Is Not Mysterious

Which of these two women is more attractive? (UPDATE below.)

Reader “potato” sent me a link to a story in the New York Times about a new software program known as a “beautification engine”:

The photograph on the right was doctored by the “beautification engine” of a new computer program that uses a mathematical formula to alter the original form into a theoretically more attractive version, while maintaining what programmers call an “unmistakable similarity” to the original. […]

Scientists took the data and applied an algorithm involving 234 measurements between facial features, including the distances between lips and chin, the forehead and the eyes, or between the eyes.

Essentially, they trained a computer to determine, for each individual face, the most attractive set of distances and then choose the ideal closest to the original face.

If you are honest in your assessment and not trying to score dorm room debate points on your not-so-humble narrator, then I predict 95% of my readers, male and female, will agree that the girl on the right is more attractive. The two photos are of the same woman. The girl on the right has been “beautified” by the software algorithm.

As I have been saying all along, beauty, especially female beauty, is not in the eye of the beholder. It is objectively measureable. And now, science is proving me right.

Studies have shown that there is surprising agreement about what makes a face attractive. Symmetry is at the core, along with youthfulness; clarity or smoothness of skin; and vivid color, say, in the eyes and hair. There is little dissent among people of different cultures, ethnicities, races, ages and gender.

Beauty is not only objective, it is universally agreed upon across cultures.

Yet, like the many other attempts to use objective principles or even mathematical formulas to define beauty, this software program raises what psychologists, philosophers and feminists say are complex, even disturbing, questions about the perception of beauty and a beauty ideal.

Let’s run this paragraph through the patented Poon Translator:

“Yet, like the many other attempts to use objective principles or even mathematical formulas to define beauty, this software program raises what Freudian holdovers, blank slate believers and ugly women say are personally disturbing truths about the perception of beauty and a beauty ideal they’d rather sweep under the rug or obfuscate with all manner of sophistry.”

Much clearer!

“How can they prove it?” said Lois W. Banner, a historian who has studied changing beauty standards, referring to scientific efforts to define attractiveness. “They are never going to locate it on a gene. They are never going to get away from the cultural influence.”

The problem with reading the New York Times is that it needs to be run through the Poon Translator in its entirety to get at the nuggets of truth buried under the mounds of evasive bullshit. For example, the above quote should read:

“How can they prove it?” said Lois W. Banner, an insulated ivory tower inculcated leftwing pseudo-historian who has studied Reubens the lone fatty fucker and thinks that proves there were changing beauty standards, referring to scientific efforts to define attractiveness. “I’m praying to my atheistic god that they will never locate it on a gene. My pointless career, and my fragile feminist ego, is on the line so I will tirelessly obstruct real science to ensure they never get away from the comforting cultural influence explanation.”

The Poon Translator — Serving the Truth since 2007.

So what did the above woman think of her new, scientifically beautified, face?

She said she was struck by how different she looked in the second shot.

“I think the after picture looks great, but it doesn’t really look like me at all,” she said in an e-mail message. “My entire bone structure, face shape and eye size is different, and my lip color looks changed as well.”

She added, “I would like to keep my original face.”

Imagine seeing a better-looking version of yourself as calculated by a computer program. What a soulkilling ego rape that would be. I can almost feel the shiver that must’ve run down her spine.

While several psychological studies over the last few decades also suggest that perceptions of beauty and attractiveness tend to be universal, critics of that work say it is debatable whether a person’s beauty is actually enhanced by such changes. Character can be lost. A blandness can set in. The quirky may become plain.

The Poon Translator is working overtime:

“While several psychological studies over the last few decades also suggest that perceptions of beauty and attractiveness tend to be universal, critics of that work prefer to stick their heads in the sand. Ugliness can be lost. Attractiveness can set in. Warpigs may have a chance at love.”

After viewing the before and after photographs of anonymous subjects in Mr. Leyvand’s research paper, Dr. Banner, who is a professor of history at the University of Southern California, said the original faces were more attractive.

I’m sure the good professor has deconstructed the term “attractive” to mean whatever the hell he feels it should mean to support his equalist worldview, so that he could say the above with a straight face.

“Irregular beauty is the real beauty,” said Dr. Banner, adding that such attempts to measure beauty are driven culturally by sameness, making everyone look alike.

This is incorrect. Liv Tyler and Bar Raefeli are both beautiful and yet no one would confuse them for the same person. “All look same” is a common meme among the anti-objective beauty brigade, but reality proves that the definable parameters of beauty can coexist with individual distinctiveness.

“We have always had a huge industry to make people look better,” Dr. Etcoff said. “Everyone wants to look better. And we keep taking it further and further to all these images that have been doctored. There is a whole generation of girls growing up who think it’s normal not to look the way they really look.”

Whenever I hear “a whole generation of girls” I know a torrent of mushheaded muddle is on the way. How about a more parsimonious explanation: There have always been less attractive girls who wished they were more attractive because they intrinsically understand that their beauty is the most important trait they can barter on the sexual market.

I say bring on the beautification engines and genetic enhancements. If morality is the promulgation of happiness to the greatest number of people, then my opinion in this matter makes me the most moral fucking bastard in the world.

UPDATE

Here is the PDF of the study referenced in the New York Times article:

http://www.cs.tau.ac.il/~tommer/beautification2008/attractiveness2008.pdf

The test subjects are pictured in that report. I stand by my conclusion that the trend is obvious: Most of the subjects experienced a 0.5 to 3 point bump up the looks scale. Bardot and Brando would seem to be odd outliers. I suspect very extreme beauties, like famous actors and actresses, could suffer a hit from a beautification algorithm because the software doesn’t take into account the tail ends of the beauty bell curve where particularly unique facial features like Bardot’s lips might scramble the software processing.

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