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World Leaders Have No Game

Pakistan’s president lavishes beta compliments on Sarah Palin:

On entering a room filled with several Pakistani officials this afternoon, Palin was immediately greeted by Sherry Rehman, the country’s Information Minister.

“And how does one keep looking that good when one is that busy?,” Rehman asked, drawing friendly laughter from the room when she complimented Palin.

“Oh, thank you,” Palin said.

Pakistan’s recently-elected president, Asif Ali Zardari, entered the room seconds later. Palin rose to shake his hand, saying she was “honored” to meet him.

Zardari then called her “gorgeous” and said: “Now I know why the whole of America is crazy about you.”

“You are so nice,” Palin said, smiling. “Thank you.”

A handler from Zardari’s entourage then told the two politicians to keep shaking hands for the cameras.

“If he’s insisting, I might hug,” Zardari said. Palin smiled politely.

I would expect men at the pinnacle of power to have zero game, so I’m not surprised that world leaders are acting like lovestruck pre-teens with a crush. Women throw themselves at the most powerful men, so these men have little need for learning the crimson arts of seduction.

Judging by Palin’s “polite smile”, I’d say Zardari’s mushy beta compliment of her looks went over like a lead balloon. Verdict: LJBF.

[crypto-donation-box]

A Test Of Your Game

Imagine yourself in the following scenario:

You’re sitting on an antique couch in your local coffeehouse, your feet propped up on the small, knee-high table in front of you, your laptop resting on your legs. You pretend to peck away at the keyboard while surreptitiously scanning the room for cute girls. It’s late afternoon on a Sunday. The room is large and crowded with people chatting, working, and lounging on crappy chairs and sofas sipping from oversized mugs, including a young couple snuggling in an adjacent chair next to you.

A girl walks up and sits on the couch opposite yours about six feet away, facing you, with the coffee table in between. She is your ideal girl — here you will picture in your mind what she looks like. (For me, that happens to be mid-20s, pale skin, dark hair, big eyes, high cheekbones and petite.)

You think… you’re not sure… that she briefly glanced at you as she sat down and settled into the couch. If so, she saw you checking her out. Eyes met, your heart fluttered. You’re not sure about the flutter status of her heart, but you assume it kept a steady indifferent beat. She pulls out a laptop — a Macbook, you note to yourself — lifts the screen and studiously peruses its contents. You look down at your monitor and a vice suddenly grips your chest as the realization dawns on you that if you don’t try to meet this girl the regret and frustration afterwards will haunt you for weeks.

I’ve described for you everything you need to know. So…

What do you do?

(You girls may answer what you would want the guy to do. Not that it will matter. We advanced experts of the human condition are smart enough to know not to take seriously anything a woman *says* she wants in regards to pickup.)

[crypto-donation-box]

FYI

Take some time this evening to peruse the comments I bunker busted into the comments sections of the past week’s posts, going back to the How To Handle Femmes Fatales Part 3 post. I really feel it is some of my finest work. Art for the demonic heart.

[crypto-donation-box]

UPDATE BELOW

I know two friends who solicited the services of whores. Their stories, despite the superficial differences, are disturbing yet humorous. I understand prostitution is pretty normal throughout the world, and even encouraged in some parts to help young men without means alleviate their swollen scrotes, but it still sounds strange to hear my American friend admit he paid for sex.

I don’t get the allure. Even during my driest spells I never entertained the option of paying a whore for a nut-relieving bang. I was never so lazy that handing over a few bills to a skank seemed like an acceptable substitute to going out and grinding my way through the field until I found a skank who wouldn’t request cash up front. Also, I’m a romantic at heart. I need to know the woman wants to be there.

I think most men would agree with me that it’s hard not to feel like a loser if you paid for it. But would you be?

Friend A drove to New York back when the city still had some gritty grottos. He enthusiastically described the scene for me. He pulled his car up to the curb between two street lights at 3AM, rolled down his window, and within a minute a mid-20s stringy-haired brunette stumbled up in her heels. They spent a few seconds bartering and she got in the car on the passenger side. She was efficient and skilled, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and freeing his member in one smooth uninterrupted motion. As her head bobbed up and down on his lap he leaned back with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, locked his hands behind his head, and stared up at the roof of his car. A random pedestrian shuffled by and paid him no notice. At the moment of sweet release, he jerked and hit his head on the roof while knocking her into the steering wheel. She continued unfazed. It was all over as soon as it had begun. My friend remembered pondering Socratic-like during the act how easy and convenient it had all seemed. He seemed not to nurse any psychic distress over his decision to advertise failure in the sexual marketplace.

Friend B would frequent a Korean-run “massage” parlor for their “happy endings”. Heaven to him was having some random Asian bring him to climax with the professionalism and dedication to craft of a Samurai. The place he went to was known by the local cops. They never cracked down because they were enjoying the same services. My friend told me the Asian girls who worked there were really robotic about the whole thing. They would bark orders at him to undress and turn over, and then pump his cock like a piston after applying a variety of Oriental herbs and lubes. Usually the girl had tiny hands and had to stimulate him with both, which made him feel like a bigger man and boosted his ego major. She utilized a twisting motion that my friend described as the “Secret Asian Stroke”. Occasionally, another female employee would casually amble in and out of the room to get something while he was in the middle of his happy ending. After he busted, his little China girl would towel the gobs off and say “OK, you done now. Get dressed.” and perfunctorily exit the room, leaving him there in the empty room with a desktop statue of Buddha grinning at his deflating penis.

***

You probably have an image in your head of these two guys being total losers; short, fat, acne-ridden, greasy-haired, socially inept, smelly, poor, binge-drinking omegas who creep out girls before they’ve even opened their mouths, and you’d be half right. One of the guys was married to an attractive woman, had a good-paying high status job, and could charm the skirts off girls at parties.

Does that fact change your perception? They both did the same thing — paying money to a whore for sexual gratification — and yet for some reason the visceral reaction to peg these guys as losers for visiting prostitutes is not as strong for the married guy. You ladies might even be amused by his antics, excusing them with the rationale that sometimes guys just “like the idea of paying for it from strange women”. Maybe you think he is an alpha whose wife gave him permission to blow off steam with nubile sex workers. Oh sure, you wag your finger at his sinful ways, but you don’t feel the same instinctual disgust for the alpha male who goes to a hooker.

Soliciting whores is a leading indicator of loser betatude, but it isn’t a defining characteristic. Betas are and always will be men who disgust women because they aren’t as high status as the men women want to fuck, no matter what their moral virtue. Betas get no pass, all the blame, and no praise, regardless of the facts.

Can you guess which of my friends in the stories above was the loser?

Answer: Friend A was the loser. Try to imagine the quality of cheap hooker you’ll confront on deserted city streets at 3AM. Hint: It ain’t 5 diamond.

[crypto-donation-box]

Before And After

A. Before I learned game

[In bed with a woman after sex, starting to fall asleep]

Me: *yawn*
Her: Hey, I feel weird. I think I’m going to go.
Me: Huh? What do you mean “weird”?
Her: It’s not a good or bad feeling. Just… I don’t know. [She slides out of bed and patters to the den]
Me: [Calling from bed] You OK? So, like, what’s wrong?
Her: [Putting on her clothes and digging through her purse] Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just gonna go.
Me: [Hopping out of bed, putting on my boxers, and joining her in the den] “You can stay the night, you know. You want a drink or something? You don’t have to rush out.”
Her: No, really, but thanks. [She walks to the door and fumbles with the locks] See you, bye.
Me: [Standing in my boxers and watching her leave] Um, sure. All right, see you then.

B. After I learned game

[In bed with a woman after sex, starting to fall asleep]

Me: *yawn*
Her: Hey, I feel a little weird.
Me: [Turning my head to look at her with one eye] You don’t say.
Her: Yeah, I think I’m going to go.
Me: OK.
Her: I mean, it’s not a bad feeling, I just feel kind of weird, you know?
Me: Sure, no prob.
Her: [Sliding out of bed to dress herself in the den and rummage through her purse]
Me: [Fluffing my pillow]
Her: [Some time passes. She is unlocking the door] So, um, I’m gonna take off. See ya.
Me: ZZZZZzzzzzz…
Her: You asleep?
Me: [Lifting my head off the pillow] Oh… yeah. You know how to get home from here?
Her: Yes, thanks, I do.
Me: Cool, take care. Hey, give the door a good pull when you close it.

I get a text message from her the following morning:
‘Sorry for my bad mood last night. Want to meet up later this week?’

******

If you thought A was the superior reaction, you get *NO GIRLS*. You lose! Good day, beta!

PS: Give or take a few minor word substitutions for illustrative purposes, I experienced these two nearly identical conversations and post-coital scenarios from two different girls three years apart, pre- and post-game. Women really are all the same underneath the hood. It’s a miracle of triumphal hedonism over cynicism that I unreservedly love them so deeply, madly, truly.

[crypto-donation-box]

I predicted that Sarah Palin’s most fevered foes would be the modern single urban childless feminist:

But Sarah Palin’s worst enemy is not the mincing liberal betaboy, oh no. It’s the childless, career-tracked, urban slut machine, government-as-daddy-and-husband-substitute, spinsterette. Palin shits grizzly-sized dung all over that lifestyle with her outdoorsiness, large brood, and prole tastes. The thing about her they really can’t swallow are her FIVE kids. There’s no better way to remind a hip clubgoing single chick in the city who loves to travel and sip pinot noir of her impending infertility and genetic obsolescence than with the image of a woman who’s chosen not to ignore her biological imperative in favor of playing the field indefinitely.

Palin makes blue state SWPLs nervous because she is the chill up their spines that they are being outbred into insignificance.

Commenter Sebastian Flyte forwarded a NY Sun article to me confirming my prediction:

“All of my women friends [editor’s note: Samantha, Carrie, Miranda, and the fat friend Rosie O’Donnell], a week ago Monday, were on the verge of throwing themselves out windows,” an author and political activist, Nancy Kricorian of Manhattan, said yesterday. “People were flipping out. … Every woman I know was in high hysteria over this. Everyone was just beside themselves with terror that this woman could be our president — our potential next president.”

Ms. Kricorian allowed that she was among those driven to distraction, upon occasion, by Mrs. Palin’s nomination. “My Facebook status last Monday was, ‘Nancy is freaking out about Sarah Palin yet again,’” the writer said.

Facebook! Fuck her fiercely with a ferret. Here’s a Facebook status update for these freaked out feminists: “My life is a joke. A triviality. A nothing. A barren womb of emptiness. Politics is my religion substitute and gives me a belief to cling to when my life is a meaningless, mindless void of handbag shopping and mimosas.”

There. Much better.

“What I feel for her privately could be described as violent, nay, murderous, rage,” an associate editor at Jezebel, Jessica Grose, wrote just after the Republican convention wrapped up. “When Palin spoke on Wednesday night, my head almost exploded from the incandescent anger boiling in my skull.”

“I am shocked by the depths of my hatred for this woman,” another commenter, CJWeimar, wrote.

This is an endless font of humor. Recall what Devlin said about women who delay childbirth:

“Motherhood has always been the best remedy for female narcissism.”

When you have your own children to raise, the sight of a mother on stage at a political convention won’t fry your neural network with murderous impulses. This kind of acute self-absorption naturally places great emphasis on fighting those whose lifestyle choices mock your own.

“It is impossible for me not to read about her in the newspaper in the subway every morning on my way to work and not come into the office angry and wanting to kick things,” a commenter using the name ChampagneofBeers wrote. “My boxing class definitely helps.”

Oh christ, the stereotypical absurdity never ends. I can picture this broad in the latest trendy gymwear, huge oversized boxing gloves, grunting ridiculously while swinging like a tankgrrl at a punching bag and cursing red state women who rub her face in her failure with their large broods. I bet the next time she storms out of class fired up with righteous anger and belief in her jujitsu boxing skills, she makes the mistake of giving some homeless bum lip and winds up knocked out when he takes a swing at her.

Even some prominent figures admitted to being overcome by anti-Palin feelings. “I am having Sarah Palin nightmares,” an acclaimed playwright and writer, Eve Ensler, wrote on the Huffington Post.

Eve Ensler: divorced, ugly, 0 biological children.
She’ll need to call her next play “The Nobody Wants My Vagina Monologues”.

“I think a lot of women felt insulted by the idea you could just take any woman,” a longtime editor of women’s magazines, Bonnie Fuller, told The New York Sun. “A lot of women feel it was a very cynical decision. … What got some women’s backs up was the idea she didn’t earn her stripes. It’s been so hard for so many women to get ahead both in business and in the political worlds and she just seemingly slips in.”

Oh, Palin earned her stripes. The problem is that she didn’t earn the *right* stripes as dictated by the Loony Kommissars of the Crusty Cunt Revolution. Send her to the reeducation camps!

Ms. Fuller also said she and other women were troubled by Mrs. Palin’s decision to have her daughter, Bristol, 17, on stage at the Republican convention, despite news reports about her pregnancy.

Cute, young, pregnant teenagers drive these ugly shrikes right over the edge. How dare they not delay childbirth and devote a decade of their most fertile years to climbing the corporate ladder alongside the boys?

Ms. Grose posited that some of the anger was because Mrs. Palin, a former beauty pageant winner, resembled a high school homecoming queen. “She has always embodied that perfectly pleasing female archetype, playing by the boys’ game with her big guns and moose murdering, and that she keeps being rewarded for it,” Ms. Grose wrote.

Jealous much? High school never ends. Adults just dress up their status jockeying with social niceties.

“Their entire image of themselves is based on the fact that they are paving the way for women. What do they see? Women getting ahead, women being empowered who don’t agree with them,” Dr. Santy said.

Fear and ego are being disinterred for public scrutiny. The id monster emerges from the depths of its subconscious lair. And what do they fear most of all?

Judgment.

Palin’s attractivness, femininity, fertility, and “wrong” politics are the perfect storm to batter the psyches of the SWPL modern feminist. I have loved every minute of this national Rorschach test. It has paid truth to everything I’ve written about the blue state vaginacentric culture in which I swim and exploit for my own uses and pleasures. I hope it never ends.

To fathers everywhere I say: Continue sending your daughters to the big city in droves. I, and those like me, will be waiting.

[crypto-donation-box]

According to insider masters of the universe economists, pretty fucking close:

What would be the dollar cost of not bailing out Wall Street? Try a number north of $30 trillion. (The awful math is detailed below.) That’s why Hank Paulson and Ben Bernanke were so scared last week. And, yes, I think “scared” isn’t too strong a word. You don’t think they convened an emergency nighttime meeting of congressional leaders and then walked out with something close to a blank check for a trillion bucks because they thought we were headed for an outright recession, even a fairly nasty one?

Nope, I think they believed, and got Congress to believe, that the economy was on the verge of something far worse than the worst downturn in a generation. And that is why they went with the so-called nuclear option: the biggest financial bailout in history. In the words of JPMorgan Chase economist James Glassman, “Thankfully, we and our friends around the world who are watching the economic lights come on will never know where events would have led, if the clock had not stopped [last] Thursday afternoon…. Last week’s events made the 1987 stock market crash look like child’s play.”

It’s looking more and more like we dodged an ICBM… for now.

The author argues that there were non-governmental pro-market solutions to the growing problem, but that the time to enact those solutions was last year, before the system reached critical mass:

But what would have been a smart, free-market plan in August 2007 or March of this year isn’t enough for right now. Just as government created the environment for the credit crisis, it failed to enact quick solutions. The situation has gone critical. It’s time for shock and awe.

And who is to blame for this clusterfuck? Many interwoven factors, but some really stand out as primary causes.

We intend to keep his money in an S&P 500 index fund, money markets, commodities, and foreign currencies. He plans to gamble a small percentage on short selling multinationals which operate in demographically shifting countries.

[crypto-donation-box]

Severing Risk And Reward

Mark Cuban had a good post on his blog regarding the financial sector meltdown and what to do about it:

If the government must step in and provide any sort of financing or guarantees for any part of a public company’s business, then all officers and directors lose all rights to severance pay and all outstanding vested or unvested options or warrants immediately become canceled. In the event the CEO of such corporation is not fired, but instead chooses to step down voluntarily, then the last 12 months of earnings is considered to be an interest free loan which the CEO must pay back over no more than a 10 year period.

Honestly, i dont think it would have changed the actions of CEOs who have been bailed out. They would have thought it “couldnt happen to them”. But once it happened a couple of times to a couple of big company CEOs, it would be in the decision making process of every CEO running a huge financial company.

Making it harder for executives to walk away with huge sums of money after deep-sixing their companies into the ground and fucking over the taxpayers who ultimately get stuck with the bill will mean they’ll be extra careful about taking absurd risks and ignoring market constraints (i.e. subprime loans). Properly incentivized CEOs will still take risks, but they’ll do it within the bounds of reality. It’s time for a return to the fundamentals — 20% down payment on big ticket items like houses.

Some would argue that turning CEO golden parachutes into lead zeppelins would restrict the market for available and talented CEOs. I agree with Mark Cuban that this is ridiculous. Potential CEOs don’t get into the business of running companies primarily for the money; they do it for the power.

[crypto-donation-box]

Fannie Mae Lessons

Bailing out these big financial firms may be the right move for a short term fix, but it was a mistake in the long term.

Pop quiz: When a person is shielded from the consequences of his failures is he

a. more likely or

b. less likely

to repeat the same mistakes?

Nevermind the current fluctuations of the market. The rot has metastasized. Coercing or otherwise easing the way for these lenders to approve loans to huge swaths of heretofore unqualified buyers was bound to ricochet. Expect to see another crisis of even greater magnitude in the near future.

Lesson not learned.

One of the ugly universal truths of humanity is encapsulated in the stark equation proximity + diversity = war. Increase the variables, increase the carnage.
The weapons of this war are not always guns. Sometimes they are backroom dealings, status saving lies, ideological purges, redistributive taxation Danegeld, and deliberately arcane financial instruments.

Begun, the clone wars have.

[crypto-donation-box]

In my final installment I will discuss methods for dealing with Clio’s last, and scariest, femme fatale.

The Amazonian Alpha (AKA Lawyer Chick)

This woman, along with the Eternal Ingenue, is the most likely of all femme fatale types to be perceived as an Iconic Woman. But whereas the Eternal Ingenue inspires dreams of perpetual love and happiness, the Amazonian Alpha inspires, in those who fall in love with her, dreams of glory, of being raised above all the ordinary people who mill around on the face of the earth. She is the Maverick Alpha’s natural mate [Editor’s note: think John and Cindy McCain], although she may choose a more ordinary Classic Alpha. Often she is unable to find a man she considers worthy of her, and may remain single.

Yes, Amazonian Alphas who don’t get married before it’s too late are the most likely to wind up frightening middle-aged women alone in mansions on hilltops with their pet german shepherds and classical music. The less prideful ones will become cougars — very VERY aggressive cougars who will stroke your chest on the slimmest pretense.

The Amazonian Alpha is usually very intelligent and generally beautiful or at least physically impressive, being statuesque of build, like Maud Gonne, the Irish nationalist who made Yeats miserable, and often athletic as well. […]

My experience with Amazonian Alphas I have dated is that many of them have striking facial bone structure and an often exotic beauty. They are never “cute” or pretty in the dull, washed-out, southern sorority sister way. They have the kind of angular looks and prominent features that a sizeable minority of men will not find attractive. They are usually taller than average and wear heels everywhere and know how to walk in them. You will never see an Amazonian wear flip-flops. She’d sooner submit to a beta male like yourself.

In social life, she can be often recognised as the lone woman talking with a large group of men, men who laugh at her jokes and who may anxiously ask her opinion about public affairs and actually listen to what she says about them. Random men sledom try to ogle or touch her, because however beautiful she may be she has a steely eye or haughty deportment that does not bode well for men who behave disrespectfully to her. Her great virtue is strength of character: she will not readily back down and is usually possessed of physical and moral courage. Her great weakness is pride, which may lead her to serious errors in judgment.

Because Amazonians are the product of the union of a successful alpha male and his beautiful wife, they often inherit their fathers’ blazing intelligence, cocksure attitude, and ambition. If they are lucky, they will inherit their mothers’ beauty, but this doesn’t always happen. More than a few alpha females look like drag queens in pantsuits.

Men are scared to tangle with the Amazonian because it feels like locking horns with a gung-ho man. They may be nice to look at, but their afeminine ballbusting personalities can be a total turn-off. Stubborn as mules, bloated egos that need constant stroking, and a keen sixth sense for smoking out suitors of bad character, the Amazonian inspires men to treat her like another man as often as a woman to be seduced. If she’s smart, she learns to temper her masculine essence to entrap men of high quality, because studies are showing that very masculine men with high testosterone are more attracted to very feminine women.

The Alpha Amazon will almost certainly be a Daddy’s Girl, but unlike the Neurotic Heartbreaker, her relationship with her father will not have been interrupted by early death or marital breakdown. Unlike the Eternal Ingenue, her father is probably also a very successful man, a dominant Alpha male who was either born to money and power or who acquired it through his own drive or gifts.

Spot on. I remember this one cunt lawyer chick I dated who rhapsodized about her father on our first date:

“He’s a professor at the University of Chicago, and he’s a classical pianist. He’s played in symphonies. He’s got patents on some of his inventions.”

I believe she used the word “redoubtable” in her high praise of him. My penis tucked itself in my ass crack.

Which reminds me… I haven’t torn a new one in lawyer chicks in a while. Where’s my thesaurus?

The Amazonian Alpha, although she may break many hearts, is perhaps alone among all the Heartbreaker types catalogued here in that she very rarely does so deliberately, nor out of subconscious neurotic compulsion. Her great problem, and the reason she finds herself breaking hearts, is the one summarized in Sheryl Crow’s lament, “Are you strong enough to be my man?”

You will endure the WORST shit tests from the Amazonian Alpha. Lesser men will retreat into belligerence or submissive shoe-gazing. Budding alphas just starting out in the game will overcompensate and allow the brinksmanship to carry on too long, thinking that sparring with her is the best way to get her in bed. David Alexander will get turned on and swap railfanning stories with her.

She will not respect a man who is not strong enough for her, and will spend at least part of her life surrounded by male admirers who are not quite equal to her in ability or dominance, who fight a bit desperately for her notice. Diana Mitford had this problem: she married a sweet-natured, rather passive man, mainly to escape from her parents’ control, and soon after humiliated him by choosing the Maverick Alpha male Oswald Mosley as a lover and publicly flaunting their relationship. Once she married Mosley, she accepted his dominance and his infidelities.

This is the interesting thing about women (yes, all women). If her man is strong enough and gets her thoroughly wet, she’ll forgive his sins despite her moral posturing. But woe be the beta who can’t get her wet; even his minor sins will forever be wielded like a cudgel, beating him mercilessly into submission, extracting the last ounce of tribute from his shattered psyche, and used as flimsy pretext to commit ten times worse sins against him. Which brings us to…

Maxim #10: It’s pussy wetness uber alles.

A woman’s shifting, squirrelly morality and conditional umbrage is also proof of another fact of evolutionary psychology — men’s infidelity is not nearly as harmful or unacceptable as women’s infidelity. I’ll leave it as an exercise for the reader to figure out why this is so.

Alpha Amazons tend to have more male than female friends, and to be more at ease in the company of men, partly because unlike so many women they don’t mind arguing or fighting for their point of view, behaviour that makes many women uneasy.

If an Amazonian Alpha has female friends, she will be THE MOST CHALLENGING cockblock you will ever have the displeasure to encounter. I hope you sacked up before opening her group.

If you find yourself competing with a woman’s father; if you find that you are always wondering if you are good enough for her, then it is possible that you have found an Alpha Amazon.

Trenchant.

Maxim #45: Daddy’s girls are status whores. You will never measure up to her father. Don’t even try.

Corollary: Not trying will turn her on. Be indifferent to her father’s accomplishments.

I told the lawyer chick from the above conversation that her father’s life sounded “full”, and then I quickly changed the subject. I banged her that evening.

If you are a masochist who likes women with vestigial penises, then by all means knock yourself out with the Amazonian Alpha. This is what you need to keep in mind to seduce her:

  • DON’T accept her challenges. Parry and dance blithely around her provocations. Thwart her programming. The frame of mind you want to adopt: She is inferior to you. No bitch gets uppity with you.
  • DON’T answer shit test with shit test ad infinitum. She can do that all night, and you can’t. Pass the first few shit tests she throws out (and Amazonians front load their shit tests, unlike Ingenues and Neurotics who shit test forever and ever) and then tell her “Look, you don’t have to be this way. Ssshhh. It’s time for us to talk like human beings now.” The goal is to arouse her pussy, not her pride, and not her intellect.
  • DON’T brag about your achievements, especially in response to her own gleefully recounted resume. She will see any bragging as compensation. It’s actually better for you to make light of your station in life. “Yeah, I just bought a new scooter. You’ll be the belle of the ball showing up riding in the flower basket I put over the handlebars!”.
  • DON’T be ordinary. You can coast with drinks at a trendy lounge with an artsy chick, but you’ll want to step it up for an Amazonian. Take her on an adventure. Samba dancing at midnight, bingo at a gay club, berry picking in the countryside… you get the idea.
  • DON’T be beta. This is true for any woman, but never moreso than with the Alpha chick. You’ve gotta show real dominance, and that means never asking questions, being decisive, leading her on the dance floor, and choosing her drinks for her. She will try to push you around, probing for weak spots in your underbelly, and you have to stay solid, armored, like a concrete bunker.
  • DON’T talk about her father.
  • DO stroke her ego. This is really the only type of girl you can genuinely compliment on the first date without seeming beta. Keep your compliments focused on her smarts and her life-affirming gusto. She’ll eat it up.
  • DO qualify her hard. You won’t run the risk of overqualifying yourself with this girl like you would with the other types of femmes fatales. Remember, she already thinks she is above you, so constantly screening her for compatibility will only push her closer to your level, never below it. Example: “So you can cook, but you don’t know how to cook Thai-Mongolian fusion? I would’ve thought of all the girls I’ve met you would be the one who could.”
  • DO fuck her like a silverback gorilla. Hair pulling is just the start. Practice your wind-up; you’re going to be smacking her ass so hard your dick will feel the sting in her pussy.
  • DO dump her after getting your rocks off. Why would you want to spend your life with a nutcrushing battleaxe like this?

Dating ballbusters has really hardened me. I’m a better man for it.

[crypto-donation-box]

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