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Where Guys Falter

The best way to do well with women over the long haul is to think like them, understand them, and put yourself in their shoes.  The man who can empathize with a woman’s frustrations will know better how to make her happy.  All the great seducers of history co-opted to some degree the psychology and the courting tactics of women.  They used women’s pyschological weapons against them.

This is why European men have a reputation for smoothness with the ladies — they spend more time than American men in the company of women, participating in activities and intellectual pursuits that appeal to women, learning about them.  American men bemoan their dating hardships, but spending all their free time watching sports, drinking beer, video gaming, and golfing, where no women are present, only to take a flailing Saturday night stab at getting laid in overheated bar environments, is not a good way to learn how to turn women on.

The inexperience of many guys around women shows in their ham-fisted come-ons.  They often act so counter-productively that it’s a wonder any girls give it up to them at all.  Verbally gang tackling a group of girls at a bar is one example.  Which guy, in a moment of reflection, really believes that approaching two girls with five of his buddies in phalanx formation and swarming them like vultures over a carcass will win their affections?  Guys who don’t have the sack to approach women on their own should not advertise their weakness by storming in with a giant cock posse for battlefield support.  Two guys maximum.  If necessary, hold off on waving the rest of the crew in until after the set has been warmed up in a non-threatening way.

Guys also do not listen.  Well, not in the way that women want to be listened to.  A guy should listen to a woman with the same intensity he listens to his buddies talk about football or German hookers.  The focus that a nerd brings to tackling a coding problem is the same focus that a guy should have when listening to an attractive woman speak.  The trick is to do it with the distracted aloofness of someone not hanging on her every word.  It’s very alluring to a girl when a guy off-handedly recalls some inconspicuous detail he picked up about her while she was talking without looking like he worked hard to remember it.  It subconsciously says to her “This guy is not desperate, but wow I must be making an impression because he remembers how I felt when I danced at my sister’s wedding.  We connect!”

This isn’t meant as mealy-mouthed John Gray relationship pap; listening intently to a woman will give him all the information he needs to successfully seduce her.  Women reveal so much about themselves in conversation — they can’t help it because they are self-obsessed creatures by nature — but they only do it in subtle read-between-the-lines ways, feminine ways, that to the uninitiated man will pass right under his radar.  It’s a double curse that boobs and pretty eyes cloud his efforts to stay engaged with her words.

To seduce women, you must seduce yourself first.  You are the guy who will be everything she needs.  How will you know what she needs?  Get inside her head.  Become her.

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From Kitten to Cougar

It’s depressing to see drunk older women at nightclubs vainly trying to hold onto their former glory.  It’s a study in contrasts when these aging beauties go to clubs full of kittens.  They aggressively flirt with every guy because when they haven’t been hotly pursued by a man under 60 in ten years they turn to the hard sell for male attention.  If the cougar asks you the time and you give it to her she takes that as a signal to stroke your chest provocatively.  They rationalize this pathetic behavior as maturing into a confidently assertive woman who is done playing games like they did when they were “silly girls”.  There are so many self-help books now I think a person could positively spin just about any shitty life predicament.

I can think of quite a few girls I frequently see haunting the nightlife scene who’ve gone from kitten to cougar in just a few years.  Many women in the socialite crowd have crossed the cougar rubicon, yet stubbornly refuse to give up their lifestyle.  When all you’ve ever known is the inside of a club, 37 varieties of martinis, and dancing on raised platforms as horny guys give you your attention fix, it’s understandable you’d find it hard to accept your demotion to has-been hottie.

Cougarness in strangers is not hard to identify.  Friends are another matter.  When you see a person every day you don’t notice their physical changes from aging so much, but someone you see once every six months can shock you with their age-related deterioration.  The precise changes are hard to pinpoint but taken as a whole it’s obvious when the bloom of youth is gone.

The statuesque woman on the left is on the cusp of cougarhood.  Even though she has admirably stayed in shape, her upper arms betray her age, especially around the armpit, as do her sinewy hands.  You know her flesh would not bounce back from a firm squeeze, like a quarter off a Marine’s bed.  If she is still single, her time is short to find a life partner before she has to begin lowering her standards.

After marriage and kids, most women surrender the willpower to fight the ravages of time and let themselves go, content to become matronly and raise their children.  This is the normal progression of life.  But with career-delayed marriages and perpetual dating where she is waiting around forever to find a man who will meet all 463 bullet points in her mental checklist, the clubs are beginning to fill with women who have missed the boat yet won’t admit it to themselves.

Desperation causes them to do just about anything to cling to their fading looks.  You will see women over 30 suddenly lose a lot of weight because they are under the impression that being skinny will shave the years off.  Celebrities like Angelina Jolie and Renee Zellweger do this.  While it beats being obese, most simply look like bony older women with sunken eye sockets and loose skin.  Tom Wolfe, in his prophetic opus ‘Bonfire of the Vanities’, called these women “social X-rays”.  It was an excellent description, as it highlighted their physical emaciation along with their superficiality.

This is an unwanted chest-stroking waiting to happen:

Eventually, the cougar who is sufficiently self-deluded about her ability to attract men becomes a brothel madam.

This woman is a fixture at the eurotrash clubs around town:

She is pretty, but it is only a matter of a few years until a roaring cougar emerges.  She looks Russian, which means that she will hit the wall sooner and harder than most women her age.  She has done the smart thing here by hooking up with an older man.  She will look hot to him for a longer time than she would to a younger man.  Not surprisingly, he displays the body language of a former player.  I suspect he is an artist of some sort.  Older male artists, as opposed to older male investment bankers or lawyers, are especially gifted at banging Lolitas.

As a man and an aesthete, watching women grow old and their beauty disappear forever is the greatest tragedy of life.  If I could magically prevent every woman from aging and thus increase the aggregate beauty in the world, I would do it.

[crypto-donation-box]

hungover. sun hurts my eyes. here’s a very special saturday morning message from me to you:

much love.

[crypto-donation-box]

Date 2 Location Reviews

First dates should almost always be simple affairs over drinks or tea.  No dinners, no nights out on the town, no extravagant expenditures.  You want to keep expectations at bay and create a comfortable zone of unzipped-lipped, nimble-tongued, playful jive.  The two of you are reading each other like schematics to the bank vault and external logistics only gets in the way of those lingering looks and wily wordplay.

Second dates open up to more creative interpretation.   If the first date has gone well, (but not so well that you closed the deal), the second date should amp the attraction with a mix of venues and locations that help build a foundation of shared experiences.  You want to be in motion with her; give your bodies more room for expression and your senses more opportunities for stimulation.  With that in mind, here are my reviews of some common Date 2 locations in DC.

Lincoln Memorial at Night

Cheesy, trite, and very effective.  You don’t have to blow away your date with originality if the ambience is perfect as is.  And the Lincoln Memorial, on the steps at midnight under a summer moon, shrouded in the glow of the reflecting pool, sets an unbeatable mood for encouraging closeness.  After the early night drinks, surprise her with a car trip to the Lincoln.  There’s plenty of parking nearby late at night.

Sculpture Garden Ice Skating

Unless your date can do triple sow cows and the Blades of Glory “crotch scissors”, skating with her means you’ll have plenty of chances to demonstrate your male protector role by holding her when she stumbles or letting her grab onto your arm for support as she struggles to find her balance.  The crowd will always work in your favor; whether the rink is filled with canoodling couples that enhance the romantic mood or kids skating recklessly around you that provide an energetic boost and lots of humorous material, you can’t go wrong here.  In the summer, there is an outdoor jazz festival at the sculpture garden.  Drinks at the patio bar are overpriced.

Billiards or Darts

Playing pool with her means lots of good-natured teasing.  Plus, most girls are not good at pool and will need you to show them how to properly hold the stick and shoot.  You can only do this from behind.  That is intimate body contact on the sly.  The best places are small basement-level pool halls that double as dive bars.  Bedrock Billiards and Kokopoolis come to mind.  Stay away from auditorium sized pool halls, as they are too impersonal.  Also, don’t bother with tiny bars that have only one pool table — what usually winds up happening is that other guys wait around to play next and you and your date get jostled all night by drunks trying to navigate the tight spaces between the table and the walls.  Cautionary note:  If your date is a shark (there seem to be an inordinate amount of DC girls who know how to shoot stick) then be sure not to let the ego-bruising show.  Just tell her you let her win this time.

The Pleasure Palace

If your date is one of those freaky chicks you picked up at DC9, take her to this sex toy shop on Conn Ave in Dupont.  Pretend to be walking down the street to a different location when you two just happened upon this dirty little place and oh, wow, wouldn’t it be cool to see what kinds of creepy things they sell in here!  Once inside, act like you never saw this stuff before.  [Examining glow in the dark clit tickler]  “What the heck is this?  Do you stir pasta with it??”  Don’t loiter, it’ll start to seem skeevy.  If she was really into it, take her across the street to the gay Lambda bookstore next to Kramerbooks for a good laugh.  While browsing the educational material, ask her, “Do lesbians really do this?”  This will smoke her out as a possible bisexual.  Tailor your game accordingly.

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A Vision of Equality

What would a world where women were no different than men look like?  Where the utopian feminist ideals of gender equality held sway?

The executive summary:  there’d be grab-ass in the streets, on the metro, at the job, in the church pews, all hours all the time.  The city air would fill not with the sounds of traffic and construction and sirens but the gruntings of humans in mid-coitus.  Nature hikes at Great Falls would lose a lot of its ambience as the chirping birds and tree leaves rustling in the wind yielded to the Uuhs and Ahhs of sweaty thrustings.

We get a window into that imaginary world in the lives of gay men circa 1970s before the AIDS epidemic inspired the media to paper over the true nature of male homosexual libido.  If women had the same intense, indefatigable, indiscriminate sex drive as men it would resemble M. Blowhard’s description of his time as a straight man witnessing the gay scene in New York:

If Fire Island was acres of beef on the hoof, Christopher Street was Mardi Gras in New Orleans, only with fewer inhibitions and without a female to be seen. One club or bar after another … Each establishment, and the street itself, filled with exuberant gayguys in freaky costumes … Music, drugs, and booze everywhere … Carousing of a pitch that would put beer-drinking Spring Break jocks to shame …

As well as the most aggressive and direct sexual behavior I’ve ever witnessed. I found the scene overheated and hair-raising all at once. I’d never before and have never since witnessed a scene so single-mindedly focused on getting off. People as commodities … Relentless dick-centeredness …

And what was courtship like between gay guys?

At the bars and on the sidewalks of Christopher Street there wasn’t a pretence at conversation, let alone at recognizing that anyone might have a personality. You were understood to be there to have sex, period. The single and only point was to find someone you could get off with, and quickly, because someone else you would want to get off with might stroll by in a few minutes. Imagine city block after city block offering nothing but sexual challenge and sexual invitation.

The author of the book on the gay sex scene of the 1970s describes it in vivid terms:

Whatever fantasy you had, you always knew you could satisfy it any time, night or day, at one of the many sexual playgrounds …

Urban gay male life had evolved over a decade from personal salvation into a communal identity and now, as the Saint [a famous disco] became our weekly Mecca, into a quasi-religion. Several thousand muscled, shirtless gay men in black 501 jeans … Upstairs was a huge darkened balcony converted into carpeted bleachers where hundreds of stoned men fucked all night and into the day.

To lose oneself so completely in the wall-to-wall men moaning in the dark … soaring on a hit of ethyl chloride … was like being transported to some heavenly other planet somewhere beyond the stars.

Don’t kid yourselves.  This is exactly what relations between men and women would be like if women possessed the mental and emotional machinery of men, except instead of one Christopher Street there would be millions.  If we were equal in the ways that the feminist movement which inculcated two generations of women into its warped worldview insisted we were, and our psychological differences were only social constructions amenable to change, then the result would be a lecherous orgy of such proportions as to make de Sade blush.

Rampant sex and the perpetual pursuit of sex with thousands of willing partners would grind society to a halt.  If STDs didn’t wipe out a significant portion of the population, sheer physical exhaustion from day-long fuck marathons would render the rest incapable of anything more than satisfying the bottom of Maslov’s hierarchy of needs.

Romance novels about dating, seduction, and intimacy would have to be re-engineered to reflect the new reality.  Actually, romance novels would cease to exist.  Porn would become even more ubiquitous than it is now, flashing from giant electronic billboards over musty cityscapes drenched in the effluvium of sex fluids like some raunchy Bladerunner alternate universe.  Every vice imaginable would find its expression unfettered by moral disapprobation.

In this equalist fantasy, or nightmare, dating takes on a whole new hue.  Those first shy stabs at awkward flirtations would pluck the heartstrings like this:

Him: “Hi.”
Her: “Hi.”
Him: [grabs ass]
Her: [grabs ass back]
{sexual intercourse}

If courtship progressed as far as a first date:

Him: “Hi, you’re cute, wanna get a drink sometime?”
Her: “I’d like that. Here’s my number. Call me sometime.”
[15 minutes later at bar]
Him: “Wow, that’s really cool that you’re into golden showers.  I heard the bathrooms here are great for fucking.  All the walls are mirrored.”
Her: “Let’s find out!”
{sexual intercourse}

Put away all your player manuals, you won’t need them.  Want to broach the subject of multiple short and long term relationships?  Threesomes?  A2M?

Him: “Wanna do A2M, threesomes, or be a member of my harem?”
Her: “You had me at A2M!”

Marriage?  Kids?  Um, yeah.  Civilization?  It’d putter along for a while, but eventually the voracious id unleashed would reverse human achievement so rapidly that the forests would retake the cities, as it is doing in Detroit right now.  I doubt you could walk M Street more than two blocks without seeing penis in vagina somewhere along the way.

Left to their own insatiable appetites, men are dogs.  Underneath all the game playing, romantic gestures, conversational fluff, and resource display lies a feral beast who’d smash through that facade as soon as the gatekeeper relinquished her keys.  Women put the brakes on this steamroller of lust.  Love helps keep it distracted… at least for a while.

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Best Spam Titles

Horse in my pussy.

Let the big dick fairy bless you.

Knock down trees with your GIANTCOCK.

and an amalgam courtesy of the random generator:

Knock up alpha fairies and their cats with your horse cock.

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in eight fab steps.

  1. Identify your target demographic.

 2.   Dress the part.

3.   Frequent your designated list of certified hip venues.  Do not commit social hara-kari by showing up to the same place twice in one week.

4.   Take pics of yourself having fun in certified hip venues. Hold camera steady at arm’s length or recruit BFF/fuckbuddy.  Solicit ever-present amateur foreign photographer with tit flashing or pouty-lipped pose.

5.   Befriend someone in the circle jerk who runs a website dedicated to digitally archiving last night’s fun.  Because the only reason you are having fun is so that you can see pictures of yourself having fun the next day.

6.   Build fanbase of inquisitive internet onlookers with living vicariously issues.

7.   Repeat ad nauseum until you are having your picture taken unsolicited by fun-archiving friends who expect to have the favor returned.  Amuse yourself by logging into public forums to see how many angles they caught of you in jpeg format.  The new fishnet stockings and crotchless panties looking fine from floor-level perspective!

8.   Never look straight at the camera.  This shows you are too busy whoring attention and being a poseur to notice that someone is taking your picture.  Effect a calculated aloofness.  You’re set for 5-10 years of juicy coutureness.

Alternate Route:

Deal coke.

For guys, minor scenester celebrity (MSC) is a great way to get laid with other aspiring scenesters, even if you are ugly.  In fact, if you are ugly, go balls out ugly.  Shove it in people’s faces.  That’s called being authentic.

For girls, MSC will result in thermonuclear meltdown levels of female cattiness.  It is irrelevant to getting laid, except insofar that someone will now digitally archive in photos or rumors your propensity for spreading your legs.

The Late Night Shots dust-up inspired this post.

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Dick Farm

The next time you hear a guy talk about the favorable female to male ratio in DC, show them this:

dickfarm.jpg


wingmans anonymous meeting

From a quick head count it looks like the men outnumber the women 3 to 1 in this picture.  I’d say this scene is representative of the majority of DC singles bars on any given weekend night.  Even if it’s technically true that there are more fertile-age women than men in DC it’s clear from the facts on the ground that these surplus women are all staying home crocheting sweaters for their cats or playing jenga.

There is no external factor that will impact a man’s success with women more than the sex ratio of the venue he attends.  No fancy analysis is needed to confirm this observation — it’s simple supply and demand market functions working on human psychology.  If there is one girl and ten guys vying for her attention she will get an inflated sense of her mating worth and it will show in her attitude.  The 6 will have the bitch shield of a 10 when there are enough guys giving her the time of day.  The trick is to meet women where their sexual market value is most accurately self-assessed.  That brazen 6 will be very accommodating when there are 8s and 9s all around her hogging the limelight.

An artificially boosted self-esteem means she is likely to test the waters and push for the best deal she can get by rejecting many early advances for the possibility of a better prospect opening her later in the night.  Your time and energy investment carries a much higher risk premium under these circumstances.

I am still surprised just how drastically a girl’s personality will shift when more guys flood her field of view.  It’s as if the hordes of swinging dicks release a pent-up princess.  She’ll start passively engaging the flirtations of every man hoping to absorb as much male attention as humanly possible to fuel a seizure of salf-satisfied preening.  For many women, receiving a sustained burst of positive feedback on their attractiveness to men can often be better than sex itself. 

With the deck stacked like this, certain game strategies are rendered inoperable.  Tactics like jealousy plotlines (making your target jealous by walking away from her to talk to another girl), pawning (using another girl that you have befriended to open your target easier), and calculated indifference (won’t work when ten other guys are hovering to jump in at any opportunity) need a somewhat balanced ratio to utilize effectively.

If you have the tightest of game, and believe personal growth can only come through putting your skills to the test, then knock yourself out at the dick farms.  You can demonstrate your prowess in comparison to the weak competition.

For those who prefer the path of least resistance, here are my suggestions for avoiding the sausage:

Stay away from places with egregious specials on cheap beer.  If it has $2 Miller Lites all night it’s a good bet the bar will smell like Axe.

Go out on weeknights instead of weekends.  The kinds of girls out on a weeknight are more motivated to meet someone.  There are fewer of them, but they’re easier to game.

Skip places that advertise through major promoters.  An Absolute Addiction promotion will summon the armies of douche darkness.

You can help.  If you want to improve the scenery and psychological profile of this ego-besotted city, as well as build the character of the women, try not to contribute to the visual pollution by rolling into venues with a cock posse twelve strong.  There are a few places in DC that have manageable ratios.  Chi Cha and Cafe Citron come to mind.  If you’re secure in your masculinity, you can also take my advice and hit up the gay bars.

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F You Jewelry

When we were teenagers I remember my brother coming home from dental surgery with a plastic container holding his four extracted wisdom teeth, blood and bits of flesh still clinging to the roots.  I thought it was so cool.  So did he, if his proud grin was any indication.

I’m having a wisdom tooth pulled tomorrow.  I would like to keep the tooth and make intimidating jewelry out of it.  Bone jewelry sends men running in a panic and women twirling their hair with arousal.  I could tell people that it’s my own tooth I wear as a talisman imparting me with wisdom, or I could say it’s a souvenir I pulled from the jaw of my vanquished enemy, similar to this guy:
a warrior knows how to accessorize.

Some ideas I have are the tooth ring:

and the tooth necklace:

A man moving through the world without apology should adorn himself with powerful symbols of virility.  If I engender a hint of disgust and fear in women who see me wearing teeth jewelry, I’ll know I’m projecting the right image.  Running tight game is a breeze when people think you’re a warlord.

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Girlfriend or Fling?

Player or Poseur gave me many minutes of quality entertainment, so in homage to that theme here’s something similar I call Girlfriend or Fling.  Examine the photo and figure out by superficial judgement alone if the girl(s) featured would make girlfriend material or good time material.  Does she look like the type of girl you could trust to be loyal and faithful, or would you be more likely to catch her dancing on a bar one night with a club monster sliding a hand under her skirt?

The girl on the left would make a solid girlfriend, assuming she met your attractiveness threshold.  The girl on the right would make an excellent one night stand.  She is dressed sluttier and is more assertive in her grinding.  Plus, playettes are always striking poses in order to draw attention to their bodies… their bread and butter for getting what they want.  Girls with better values and a stronger internal compass tend to smile warmly and sincerely at the camera, because they are trying to convey their personalities.

Date Girl #1 like she was a normal human being who would be happy to enjoy the pleasure of your company.  Wait 2 days before returning Girl #2’s texts and phone calls, and when you do set up a date, tell her to wear something revealing.

Addendum:

This photo gives a better idea of what kinds of traits men notice when deciding girlfriend potential.  These two girls are nearly equal in attractiveness (in fact, they might be sisters), so differences in beauty are neutralized as a variable.  Yet, the girl in the orange top has heartbreaker written all over her while the other looks more grounded.  Judging by their clothes is difficult since there is not much distance separating them, though the orange top plunges lower showing more cleavage, and lace is always indicative of sexual adventurism.

Like with the first pic, the smile says it all.  Blue shirt girl’s smile is natural, unforced, and inviting.  She doesn’t give the impression of hiding anything about her true character.  Orange shirt girl is looking seductively at the camera under heavy lids.  She is making love with the viewer, while blue shirt girl is making friends with the viewer.  I would feel safer dating blue shirt girl.

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