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This blog has touched upon the effect that the birth control pill, now a fifty-year-old institution, has on women’s attraction mechanism. However, the studies examining the matter don’t seem to agree. I have read, (and experienced), contradictory evidence that supports both theses that women on the pill prefer niceguy betas or badboy alphas.

Does anyone have clear, updated information on this topic? It strikes me as one of major importance in any discussion about changes in Western female temperament, mating preference and even looks. Not to mention, the pill may cause changes in men who have to drink the water that is now polluted with estrogenic compounds. The subject deserves more rigorous science than it is currently getting. Naturally, it’s understandable why feminists would be loath to broach the subject, but that’s no excuse for the paucity of corroborating science by non-feminists, aka rational people.

UPDATE

JR writes:

I don’t know of any recent scientific studies, but you only have to think rationally in order to shed light on the topic. Unless the pill has in fact affected women’s biochemical processes, it stands to reason that they have reverted back to a more or less ‘pre-cultural’ preference for ‘alpha males’ of the crudest variety because the pill has freed them from considering the potential negative consequences of sexuality.

The female preference for alphas is basically a given, so the only question is: are there artificial forces preventing them from chasing them constantly?

This is a good point, and one that’s been discussed before. The pill exerts a psychological and a physiological effect on women. How much emphasis to give each effect is up for debate (though I tend to agree with JR that the psychological influence is just as strong as the physiological influence), but that there is an influence seems to me unassailable. You just can’t fuck with the primal forces of nature without some kind of blowback.

Note that the psychological conditioning caused by the pill is not limited to just the pill; condoms and other forms of prophylactics would have the same mate choice conditioning effect as the pill, if not to the same degree. The difference with the pill is that it alone could seriously fuck with the physiological engine of female mate choice.

Occupy Cupertino

A lot of these hipster OccupyWallStreet nitwits posting photos of their debt-laden lamentations online (sometimes accompanied by ridiculously pretentious props like manual ribbon typewriters) are targeting the wrong bad guys. The Wall Street bailouts and securitized mortgage repackagings were bad, to be sure, and I wouldn’t mind a day-of-the-rope for a lot of these cognocryptic leeches, but if you look at the OWS complaints you’ll see that a common thread is the neck-deep debt they’ve incurred from student loans.

Yo, braheems, word of advice: you should be directing your righteous rage against the professors, faculty and admin of your chosen school of hard ownage. You went there, they gave you a shitty, useless libtarts degree and saddled you with mounds of debt. You compounded that debt because the college experience just wouldn’t be intellectual enough if you didn’t splurge on status whoring necessities like $5 lattes and Macbook pros. Now the world is changing with smart and industrious billion-plus Chinese coming on board to gut the value of your social media relations dreamjobs that you and the rest of the country wants and you’re pissed about it. Truth is, the university system is the droid you’re looking for.

But no, you’ll obey your leftie professors’ marching orders and fall back on tired old protest cliches, railing against the finance fat cats when the more pertinent oppressors (in your cases) are the monopolists who run academia and the federal government which subsidizes their bust-the-inflation curve tuition hike increases with giveaway loan programs. Coupled with the credentialist zeitgeist pushing idiots into college and open borders human capital depreciation that devalues vocational work and college degrees alike, the academia fleecing steamrolls through your future. And you lash out impotently.

Maybe next time you’re in class, or thinking about that alumni donation, you might want to remember this. A more fitting protest would be reclaiming your parents’ hard-earned dollars spent on useless gadgets with engineered obsolescence and degrees with hopeless prospects. Call it Occupy Cupertino. You can solemnly hold up your iPhones with a burning dollar flickering on the screen.

In yesterday’s post, Days of Broken Arrows made the following observation:

“Fatties also have a problem of unreasonable standards. I don’t think I’ve ever met a fat chick who was not convinced that she was still entitled to a 99-point checklist [Ed: 463 bullet point checklist is the term of art] and a man every bit as desirable as what her younger, thinner self would have bagged.”

I’ve been going through online dating Web site profiles and this statement is DEFINITELY true. It’s disturbing and doesn’t bode well for the country that seriously obese women will put out profiles demanding men be a certain height and weight. WTF?

I don’t spend much time at online dating sites, but I’ve seen the same attitude in real life. It’s preposterous, laughable. Fat chicks who pull the “I’m too good for any man” card are engaging in a very transparent example of sour grapes. It’s easy and emotionally cost-free for a fat chick/old chick/ugly chick/single mommy to have standards no man will meet when most men who aren’t losers couldn’t be bothered to meet her standards in the first place. It’s analogous to crowing about being virtuous when there is no temptation to vice.

Anyhow, in response to DoBA, I wrote:

My take on what’s going on: When you have such horribly low Sexual Market Value that most men find you repulsive, it makes a certain amount of self-gratifying sense to carelessly throw realistic expectations out the window and feed (heh) your ego as a dopamine substitute.

And that’s why you see the perverse phenomenon of so many loser chicks flaunting an unrealistic checklist in men when they themselves have little to offer. It’s not about the men; it’s about them. Their egos must be salvaged before their love lives can be rescued.

Remember, too, that once a girl passes a threshold of sexual inactivity (on average, three to six months), she slips more easily into quasi-involuntary celibacy (quasi, because there is always a loser who will dump a five second fuck in a low SMV girl if she’s willing to swallow (heh) her pride) than a man would. Women are built like worker bees in that respect; once acclimated to celibacy and the dull drone of useless paper-pushing office life, they forget the joys sexual abandon. Or, perhaps, rather than forget, they simply don’t experience the same vital urgency to renew sexual relief the way men do. Consequently, it’s easier for a woman in asexual frigidity mode to maintain a facade of high standards that she must know on a subconscious level will never get her sex and commitment, or even a second date, from the men she wants.

And this phenomenon is more acute amongst fat chicks who were once thin. They fondly recall what it was like to be pursued by men, to turn away those who didn’t meet their expectations, and to experience the thrill of men attempting to satisfy their demands, doing it all for the top-notch nookie. But now, as a fatty (or a cougar or a single mom or an acid burn victim), the men they find desirable shun them and, adding insult to injury, the beta males who once lacked the confidence to approach now hit on them with a grating expectation of success.

What’s a put-upon woman to do? Right. Lie to herself. Happy feelings on the cheap. Better yet, surround herself with yenta friends who will abet her self-delusions.

But neither of the quotes above are the comment of the week. That honor belongs to “uh”, who replied to both of us:

There’s not enough neurochemical payoff for a [fat] woman in admitting the truth to herself if the choice is between that and easy self-affirmation. Given that choice, which may be thought of as a false consciousness imposed/reinforced from above (media), and laterally (other women), the woman becomes alienated from true acceptance of herself as a relational being and enters the narrow straits of denial. Neurochemically this almost resembles the pathway of cigarette addiction: cheap self-affirmation gives quick temporary rewards necessitated only by the presence of the toxin — the subnarrative itself.

This is a concise and penetrating explanation of the common female frailty herein known as Absurd Standards Syndrome (ASS). Insulated by the PC media, glam mags, academia, beta suckups and female friends, women have lost touch with their rank relative to other women and are thus finding it easy to slip into a comfortable bubble of self-delusion. Similar to cigarette addiction, the quick dopamine fix — necessitated by the subnarrative, as uh puts it — trumps the harsher acceptance of personal flaws that must be remedied by willpower and self-control (or simply accommodated) to achieve longer term and more fulfilling rewards, or to come to terms in a dignified manner with one’s diminution of mate choice. This subnarrative toxin, an effluvium of pretty lies, perpetuated by feminists, groupthink apparatchiks and fat acceptors alike, is the wicked poison that courses through the sludgy veins of the Western woman, corroding her from the inside out until she is a mere husk of the feminine ideal that once held sway over the hearts of men. Well done, uh.

Men — particularly internet nerds without a hope of meeting a woman in real life — suffer from this syndrome as well, but not nearly to the same degree that it perplexes women. As has been explained before on this blog, the reason ASS afflicts women more than men is because men, as the chosen sex, have to be more in touch with reality to get what they want in the dating market. A deluded man is quickly a celibate man. A woman in her prime, on the other hand, can stand around looking good, ignorant of the rules of mate choice reality, and men will hit on her… until reality rudely turns against her.

Interestingly, uh’s comment has parallels with the denial inherent in economists’ inability to grasp that the drive for relative status is a bigger motivator of human behavior than the urge to maximize utility. (Want to watch a libertardian squirm? Bring up the subject of status jockeying.) Economists, stuck in the narrow straits of the rational actor (their toxic subnarrative), have become alienated from the commonsensical wisdom that humans are relational beings who sometimes do seemingly inexplicable things just to gain status points over a neighbor. Like fat chicks on an ego-assuaging bender, economists in thrall to their theories have forsaken the long hard look at human nature in favor of the quick pleasure fix of aggregate demand and open borders circle jerk pontificating.

The impetus for our economic decisions is not so far removed from the mechanism guiding our mating decisions. Quite the contrary; economics is servant to sexuality — the one market to rule them all.

Solution: people of good (and not so good) intent must strike at the heart of the toxic subnarratives, killing them and salting the neuronal fields in which they grow, unafraid of the certain immune response it will spastically trigger, before the human psyche (and body) can be healed. The way to kill the subnarratives is one this blog has stressed countless times, and which we here happily, some might say sadistically, pursue — The Three Rs of human psychological manipulation:

Reframe.
Reject.
Ridicule.

Progress will be slow at first, but momentum will inevitably build. It only takes 10% of a population holding an unshakable belief to cause that belief to be adopted by the majority of the society. Your goal of spreading better ideas is not as out of reach as you imagine. Alinsky leftists and ideological warriors have known this fact about group dynamics for generations. It’s time for you to know it too.

The Modren Man

The only thing this picture is missing that would make it the absolute perfect representation of the de-balled and de-souled modern SWPL man-lite is a “vibrant” infant tucked into the fat bride’s meatloaf arm.

secret secret, i’ve got a secret!

You might call this the 21st century Western equivalent of the drawing and quartering.

Proud-to-be-an-omega-male linked to two studies and wrote:

[These two studies are] a gift for Heartiste, both of which are just more science supporting what [is] stated countless times on this blog.

The first study, titled “Niceness and Dating Success: A Further Test of the Nice Guy Stereotype” provides evidence for the widely held observation that niceguys don’t get as much sex as badboys.

Proponents of the nice guy stereotype argue that women often say they wish to date kind, sensitive men, but, in reality, still choose to date macho men over nice guys, especially if the macho men are more physically attractive. We investigated the relationship between men’s agreeableness, physical attractiveness, and their dating success across different relationship contexts. One hundred and ninety-one male college students completed a computerized questionnaire to assess their levels of agreeableness and aspects of their dating history. Twenty college-aged women rated the men’s photographs for attractiveness. Results supported the nice guy stereotype. Lower levels of agreeableness predicted more less-committed, casual, sexual relationships.

The sexual appeal to women of disagreeableness in men comes up quite often in studies examining the topic of mating preferences, and the results are usually not feelgood pablum to warm the hearts of weepy romantics or righteous white knighters. The executive summary: chicks dig jerks. The god of the golden rule wept.

So you want to get laid? Try being less agreeable, less nice, and less accommodating. I bet your mom won’t teach you that, and I doubly bet you won’t hear that advice from any übercredentialed marriage counselor or couples therapist, shysters the lot of them.

The second study confirms more reality-based (aka anti-feminism) wisdom that niceguys are preferred by women for low-sex long-term relationships, but shunned for hot n’ sexy flings.

Many researchers have attempted to discover what types of men women consider most desirable for relationship partners. This study investigated university women’s (N = 165) perceptions of ”nice guys,” specifically whether women perceived nice guys to be more or less sexually successful than guys who are considered not nice. Both quantitative and qualitative analyses were used. The qualitative analysis was useful in understanding women’s differing interpretations of the nice guy label. More than one half of the women agreed that nice guys have fewer sexual partners. However, more than one half also reported a preference for a nice guy over a bad boy as a date. As hypothesized, women who placed a lesser emphasis on the importance of sex, who had fewer sexual partners, and who were less accepting of men who had many sexual partners were more likely to choose the nice guy as a dating partner. The findings indicate that nice guys are likely to have fewer sexual partners but are more desired for committed relationships.

You’ll note a couple of conclusions here. One, more than half of coed women (the hot ones in the age bracket we care about) agreed that niceguys have fewer sexual partners. This is bad news for niceguys, because female preselection is a powerful attractant that men can wield to entice women. If women think you don’t get any, you are more likely to not get any. It’s self-fulfilling.

Two, more than one half of women reported a preference for a niceguy over a badboy as a date. That means a little less than one half of women had no preference or PREFERRED A BADBOY for a date! That is an astounding number, if you think about it. The leverage the niceguys hold over women looking for LTRs is not as great as they like to think, nor is it equivalent in effectiveness to the leverage that badboys hold over women seeking sexytime.

It’s also important to keep in mind that the word “date”, as used by the women in this study, means “sexless date”. Women who placed less importance on sex — i.e., frigid ice queens — were more likely to asexually date a niceguy. So, yeah, niceguys are preferred for sexless dates that result in their wallets being considerably lighter and their dicks drier at the end of the night. If you are a niceguy, this news has GOT to make you feel like a sucker. A dupe. A fool. A chump. To paraphrase the memorable GBFM:

“Why would you pay more for less that guys before you got hotter, tighter, younger for free?”

Good question. Any takers?

The third study is a gift from me. You’ll have to get access to the full study to read some of the juicy tidbits within, which basically support the darker, more cynical CH hypothesis that badboys not only get more sex, but they get more chances to convert that sex into loving LTRs, should they so desire to go that route.

The more recent research of McDaniel (2005) and Urbaniak and Kilman (2006) suggest that women find “nice guys” to be socially undesirable and sexually unattractive, contradicting the previous findings of Jensen-Campbell et al. The researchers also found that “bad boys” (operationalized as “fun/sexy guys” by McDaniel and “cute, macho guys” by Urbaniak and Kilman) were highly desired for both short-term and long-term committed relationships, whereas “nice guys” were not desired as sex partners within either relationship context, contradicting the previous findings of Herold and Milhausen. McDaniel writes:

First, being suitable for high commitment dating alone is not enough (by a long shot) to increase a nice guy’s likelihood to progress into or beyond the experimentation stage of relationship escalation. Second, young women who are interested in frequent casual dating are not going to select a nice guy as a dating partner because he cannot meet her recreational dating needs. And, because the fun/sexy guy seems to be more suitable for low commitment dating, he is going to be chosen more often for it, which provides him with an increased opportunity to progress well into and beyond the experimentation stage.

Young women’s dating behavior: Why/Why not date a nice guy? by McDaniel, 2005

So this study, the most recent one, tells us that women prefer badboys for short term *and* long term relationships. Man, those niceguys can’t catch a break! The theory is simple: If badboys are rounding the bases to home plate a lot more often and a lot quicker than niceguys, despite women’s opinions that niceguys make for better high commitment dating partners, then badboys are also getting more opportunities to escalate relationships into the long-term category. The fact that a lot of badboys choose not to convert short term flings into LTRs does NOT mean that the opportunity for them to do so is not available.

In other words, you need to get your dick in the pussy door before you can even begin to think about any one chick as a potential girlfriend or wife.

Now maybe the dating scene was different in the past. But we don’t live in the past. We live in the here and now, and that means doing what you need to do to get what you want. Are you adaptable?

None of this is to say that niceguys don’t have their place in the universe. After all, some women at some time must have desired niceguys, or they wouldn’t be around today. In fact, there may have been a fairytale moment in human history when genuine niceguys scored the majority of bangs and impregnated the majority of wombs. But the Four Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse (coming soon to theaters near you) shredded that (partially contrived) sexual compact, and the state of nature — aka the forager mentality — has reasserted itself, with consequences none can know, but based on prior results aren’t likely to be good if civilization is your thing.

The evidence in total is becoming clear. If it’s sex with cute, young chicks you want, then being a badboy, or learning to be a simulacra of a badboy, is your best avenue to success. If it’s LTRs you want, even then your best bet is to be a badboy, because fast sex opens doors to long term (and long germ, if you aren’t careful) possibilities.

But clearly women, and particularly women of more northerly latitudes, retain a vestige of love in their hearts for reliable, predictable niceguys as LTR fodder, and this is borne out in many studies; it’s scary to take a chance on a badboy who might leave you to the harsh winters to raise your kids alone. So ideally, as the master seducer you wish to become (or you wouldn’t be reading here), the pose to strike is one of charmingly aloof badboyness coupled with hints of undercurrents of loving, dependable niceguyness. Not too much more than a hint of an undercurrent, though. You don’t want to frighten the kitty; you want to entice the kitty with dangling strings.

With experience, you’ll be able to accurately gauge when you are pushing a woman away instead of drawing her closer. You’ll know when you are being too cocky and aloof, and you’ll adjust accordingly with a sappy story about your deceased labrador or your adorable niece whom you can’t stop doting upon. Similarly, you’ll know when you are being too cloying or treacly, and you’ll step back into laconic alphatude so that she may have the pleasure of resuming her chase of you.

An armored badboy attitude + a vulnerable niceguy underbelly = winning combination to unlock pussy for long term goals.

For short term goals, you don’t need to be much else besides a jerk.

It’s been said before on this blog that women are turned off by men who don’t take charge, and are particularly contemptuous of men who relegate the decision-making process to them. Women, contrary the bleatings of the feminism lobby, are more sexually attracted to men who remove some of the need for female independence.

Well, chalk up another scientific validation of a CH game concept: Women who make more decisions have less sex.

A new study published in the Journal of Sex reports that the more decisions a woman makes on her own, the less likely she is to have sex.

Researchers from Johns Hopkins University arrived at these results after they surveyed women from six African countries about how intimate they were with their partners. They focused specifically on the last time these women had sex “as well as who had the final say on decisions ranging from healthcare to household purchases.” For women who answered that they were in control of such decisions, researchers found they had less sex and more time had passed since their last encounter.

The usual caveats about racial population group differences apply, but the general finding is, in my observation, applicable to women from all racial backgrounds. As women take control of more of the major decisions in a relationship (or in their lives in general), their ardor for their male partners (or for men in general) decreases.

Here’s the money quote:

Not only were these women having less sex, but “the findings showed more dominant and assertive women had approximately 100 times less sex.”

To bring this closer to home, dominant and assertive Western white women probably have higher testosterone levels than normal women, so there is a good chance they are sluttier as well. It may therefore be the case that women who make a lot of decisions sleep around more. But does that necessarily translate into more sex for them than for women who are in more gender polarized, satisfying relationships with dominant men? No. Within relationships of a given matchup, it could very well be the case that less assertive (read: feminine) women have more sex with their dominant male lovers than more assertive women have with their indecisive beta male lovers. Assertive, dominant women — you know the type, lawyercunts to a T — when they aren’t lashing the whip upon the flayed backs of their beta provider suckups, are studiously avoiding having sex with them. These types of women get more emotional satisfaction out of nagging and berating and using their betaboys than they do out of fucking them.

(And what do the betaboys get out of these relationships? Well, they get a woman. Sort of.)

I think we’ve all scratched our heads and wondered why a particular domineering woman with a high-flying career had a schlubby, charmless milquetoast for a boyfriend or husband. You may rest easy as order is restored to the universe, because a lot of these odd pairings hide demented secrets of sexual aridity and pathological nagging. And now science has shed light on the phenomenon with evidence confirming conventional and PUA wisdom that dominating women really do have less sex than their sweetly submissive peers.

As the reader who emailed this study wrote:

“Has science EVER gone the other way on Game? [Ed: No.] Has msm EVER failed to spin even the most egregious bullshit about female psychology into a positive for women? [Ed: No.]

The advice for men: take decisions away from your woman, take the punch out of her dominant streaks, and you will be rewarded with 100 times more sex.”

You got it.

I’ll relate a pleasant little story from my own life. As my propensity in moments of self-amusement tends toward the satisfyingly manipulative, I have dabbled in the perverse arts of anti-game just to witness and enjoy the predictable reaction it induces from a girlfriend. So this one time, in band camp, my girl asked me what we should do for the evening, and instead of my usual tack of offering a couple suggestions (but not more!) and announcing with royal decree which one I would prefer and she should also prefer, (absent any severely allergic disagreement on her part), I hemmed and hawed and diplomatically dodged “I don’t know” and “What do *you* want to do?” and basically foisted the decision-making process entirely onto her. Priceless to the point of caricature, the expression on her face spoke a million words. And none of them flirty or sexual.

There are some primal forces of nature that were never meant to be meddled with.

Game Trumps Looks

File under: “Give me five minutes to talk away my ugly face and I can bed a hard 10.” -Voltaire. A reader (kept anonymous for obvious reasons) emails:

I started reading your blog about a week ago after my girlfriend chewed me up and spit me out like the beta I am. I knew about Game before but figured there was no reason to apply it on her. Obviously a mistake. No one would believe the shit she put me through…except the readers of your blog. That’s not why I’m writing, though. You’ve heard it a thousand times.

I wanted to relate this:

Today I am meeting with a girl on my group for a group project. I’m leading this thing but, christ, no real alpha would lower himself to leading a group project. They never do, in my experience. It’s a low status activity, so I just try to keep everyone on task and make sure we show up in class with something worth half a shit.

Anyway, through dint of scheduling I have to meet with this girl alone instead of with the four other people. I figure I might as well start practicing high status behavior so, when I noticed I was going to be early, I decided to hang around the quad until I was a couple minutes late. When I walk through the door I notice, potentially for the first time, that she is a fucking ten if there ever was one. 19 yrs, tight, flawless skin with just enough tan, full c breasts, beautiful symmetrical exotic features that sing, and the kind of wavy brunette hair that any girl outside of a pantene spot would literally kill for. Me: short, freckles, red hair, glasses, slim but doughy and pale, and 28 years of betadom to back it all up. Not terribly disciplined. Socially shy, but like most betas dominant when there is real work to do. I run and physically I’m a…4-5? On a good day. In the interests of full disclosure, I have some small scabs on my arms from skin picking, a lovely anxiety habit. Just a few but it’s the most unattractive thing ever. It’s harder to quit than smoking. On the plus side, I recently grew a beard to hide my weak chin. So let’s say that today I’m a 4.

But in spite of all this I said to myself: I am not scared of this girl. When she started talking about her many ‘accomplishments’ like her job, or her high status family (prof dad), or her many ap credits… I refused to compliment her. I actually pitied her, since it seems likely that she’s high achieving and will become a professional lady or something similar that makes her unhappy and prices her out of the marriage market.

She started twisting her hair. It was a little anxiety habit–kind of like my skin picking, except cute and girly and not destructive. In the past I would have just said to myself: hair twisting is nothing compared to the shit you do to yourself. But…I thought maybe it might be fun to neg her. “I should grow out my hair,” I said, “so I can twist it.” She apologized about her hair twisting. She started apologizing about all kinds of stuff, actually. She drank too much coffee and was really jittery. She had a ‘long day’ filled with her many accomplishments in life and her brain was ‘fried’. I told her she only had to keep it together for another hour and a half. She cracked her joints and I smiled and looked at her. She demured and I chuckled and mentioned that, when I was young, someone told me that would ruin my joints. But that ‘probably isn’t true. People tell kids lots of things.” Plenty of eye contact. Didn’t cross my legs in a girly way like I always do.

I wasn’t exactly making no mistakes here. I didn’t touch her. I accidentally spoke frankly about my chances for grad school. I asked about her wavy hair, figuring it HAD to be a perm or something. “Is your hair naturally curly?” I asked. It was, in fact, naturally curly and beautiful like Aphrodite’s might be if she were a brunette. “Not as curly as mine.” I responded, trying to ameliorate a body-directed compliment but accidentally calling attention to my curly red hair, a bit of a deficiency. Double mistake. I told her that I found her spanish fluency impressive–which I did, having struggled to learn a language myself. I thought that was bad at the time, but in retrospect complimenting beautiful women on their intellectual achievements isn’t as bad as complimenting them on their hair.

We did some practice runs of the presentation. I was a much, much better speaker than she was. By the time we were ready to leave she was giggling and falling all over herself. All bubbly smiles and eye contact and apologies.  Was she trying to DHV…to ME? Did she really just forget how impressive she was on every level: her perfect body, her high class, her raw intelligence? Could she not see that I am a bit of a classical loser, which is practically an image I’ve embraced and cultivated like she has being beautiful and smart? I was just…dumbfounded. I am awful at is reading female body language–you can’t understand a language without studying it or being immersed–so I don’t know if she was attracted to me or merely not repulsed by me, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been alone in a room with a ten for that long without it ending in cool businesslike contempt. I’ll ask her out to coffee and we’ll find out, I guess.

So thanks for saving my confidence and helping me start to heal my terrible breakup. Keep up the good work. It’s been eye opening.

The biggest difference between men and women in the dating market? A man can talk away his ugly face. A woman cannot. The reader is learning this valuable lesson, and like others before him who have trod the same path of game knowledge, he almost cannot believe the girl’s reaction he sees with his own eyes.

All the negs and teasing employed by this emailer were excellent: not too obviously insulting, with just the right amount of sting. I especially liked when he told her to “try to keep it together for an hour and a half”. Commanding, insouciant, fearless, funny. Chick crack, iow.

Pitying a woman, or lamenting her childishness and naivete, are actually very good frames to have when dealing with hot chicks. This frame is supercilious without being spiteful or hateful. A haughty disdain leavened with bemusement is a character trait that women find irresistible in men. It is the hallmark of alpha males. You could almost call it charisma.

But, unfortunately, I predict this emailer will not ask her out for coffee. (And, helpful tip, you should be taking a girl out for alcoholic beverages if possible, instead of coffee. You don’t want coffee to mentally stimulate her recall of her 463 bullet point checklist.) That “I guess” toward the end of his missive is a dead giveaway of untamed betatude. You guess? No, sir, you don’t guess. You reach down, cradle your gargantuan balls with lovingkindness, and gently coo to them “Thing 1? Thing 2? I’m letting you out of your cage again. Try not to get me in too much trouble.”

Footnote: “Not as curly as mine” was not a mistake. It was, in fact, quite an effective compliment-neutering counterattack. Remember, when you call attention to a possible flaw in a woman’s appearance or style that inadvertently highlights one of your own flaws, she’ll be too busy vaingloriously fretting to even notice what the hell flaw of yours you were concerned about. Or if she does notice and shit tests you over it, it will only serve as convenient conversational springboard to demonstrate your cool-as-fuck bona fides.

Anyhow, glad this blog is helping your dating life. Now you can stop bolding the words loser and glasses. It’s killing your inner resolve. A bolded word is a window to the id.

Emma the Emo writes:

That Norwegian terrorist Anders Behring Breivik is getting love letters in jail now, after killing over 70 people, most of which are teens. Psychologists theorize that women want to save/heal him somehow. If they wanted to save and provide emotional help, they could instead write letters to the victims who survived. There is no point in saving a murderer like that, it’s too late, and just gives men more reason to become murderers.

Emma is right. If “saving” or “healing” broken men was the prime motivation explaining women’s lust for assholes, then we would see women saving and healing all those unfortunate victims of a psychopath’s rampage. Not to mention, there are a lot more beatdown betas who are in need of saving via pussy therapy than there are happy-go-lucky alphas.

Which of course puts the lie to the feminist and mangina explanation for women’s attraction to jerks and thugs. While the savior complex may explain, in part, women’s craven desire, it is not the primary or sole explanation, or even a very important one. As everyday observation to those with the eyes to see demonstrates, the primary motivation is women’s love for unrepentant, rule-breaking assholes. That is the elemental, core female hindbrain algorithm that governs all other lustful dispositions and is the catalyst for her mate choice decisions.

Women love assholes because they are assholes. Because it inspires in women those emotions that most delight their pleasure centers. And that, based on the reaction it engenders from civilized men and women alike, is the truth too scary to contemplate.

If you’ve been in a comfortable relationship for a while, or your game is so tight that you can steal girls from jerks, or you and your wife share Hallmarkian duties raising your children, you might forget the true nature of women and the crass biomechanical processes that motivate their loinlust. Which is why a helpful reminder every so often is just what you need to keep your mind focused.

Okla. warden’s wife convicted of aiding escapee

The wife of a former Oklahoma prison warden who disappeared with a convicted murderer only to be found living with him in Texas nearly 11 years later was found guilty Wednesday of helping him escape.

Jurors visited the prison grounds where Bobbi Parker, 49, had lived with her husband, then returned to the Greer County Courthouse and determined she left willingly with Randolph Franklin Dial in 1994. Parker did not testify but after being found living with Dial in 2005 insisted he had kidnapped her and threatened to harm her two daughters if she tried to escape.

Yep, women can’t get enough of that asshole vibe. So much so, that they’ll even leave a man whose occupation — prison warden — suggests authentic asshole, to be with an even bigger asshole — a convicted murderer. Talk about hypergamy. Maybe a new term should be coined for women whose hypergamous instinct for assholes causes them to go downmarket for the thuggish dregs of manhood: Masochamy.

Of course, in the evolved, frontal lobes of their brains, women know that society frowns upon their unquenchable attraction for assholes and douchebags, so when they are caught out in the act of fulfilling their fantasies they revert to stand-by female moral expedience by doing what they do best — laying the blame with the man. In this case, Bobbi Parker claimed her killboy lover had kidnapped her and threatened her two kids if she left his erotic embrace. Naturally, it’s a lie, which is exposed rather humorously in the article.

Dial died in 2007 at age 62, but until his death he backed Bobbi Parker’s version of events: that he drugged and kidnapped her, then kept her from calling police or her family by threatening to harm her family — even after he suffered a heart attack and was hospitalized.

Yeah, real hard to get away from a man laid up in a hospital bed with an ailing ticker. Funny how women have none of these troubles leaving betas who cease turning them on.

The real victim in all this is the jilted prison warden hubby who, through no fault of his own, found himself on the receiving end of a woman’s runaway lust for badboys. I guess managing a prison filled with some of the world’s worst alpha scumbags wasn’t enough to sate her vagina’s yearning. A woman’s cross to bear, ya know?

Unlike the specious claims made by feminists and their beta suck-ups, you will very rarely see the gender opposite happen in real life — it’s a black swan event indeed when a man leaves his hot wife for a female convicted murderer to help her escape prison and live with her for ten years. Men simply aren’t wired like women; for men, it’s looks over everything. For women, it’s attitude over everything.

Nor are feminists correct when they say that women are really attracted to the fame of high profile murderers, and not the embodied asshole attitude. Sure, that contention may be true for a select few cases like Ted Bundy and Richard Ramirez, but most cases of women seeking the meaty intrusion of jailbirds are like this one where the convict is not famous, but just another filthy turd trapped in the bowels of the prison system.

As any person involved in the legal system will tell you, the stereotype of women loving inmates is so common that hardly anyone notices anymore. Well, this blog will make sure the noticing never stops.

Now, not every women will swoon for a swindler or murderer, but all women possess an irredeemable attraction for men who are at least a little more asshole than the men within their social milieu. Bobbie Parkers spread for inmates, while Hillary Clintons spread for narcissistic manipulators. It’s a difference of degree, not kind.

Just a little helpful reminder should the swoon of romance ever take your eye off the ball.

UPDATE:

Here is a photo of the two lovebirds. Sez it all.

In-her-face negs are really only suited for very hot girls (8s and above) who think too much of themselves, work in a sex field (stripper, pharmaceutical sales rep), are ovulating, or are in a social context such as a club where they are primed for flirty banter. The rest of the time, your negs should be crafted in such a manner that they deliver their payload with sneaky plausible deniability, like a homing missile launched from a hidden bunker aimed at the soft chewy center of her ego. The best negs are those which are conceivably meant as compliments, but which linger in her psyche for hours afterward, undermining her self-conception and encouraging her to qualify herself to you.

I’ll give you an example of what I mean. I was at a party talking with a girl, a cute 7.5, and I mentioned offhandedly (or so it seemed to her, for little I do or say isn’t calculated to maximize my personal advantage) that she seemed really modest. (My assessment wasn’t wholly without merit, judging by her clothes and shy demeanor. Another defining feature of the best negs are that they have the ring of truth to them.)

Naturally, and predictably, she, being a member in good standing of the SWPL industrial complex where modesty is considered a character flaw, balked at this. “Modest? You think that? What do you mean by that?”

I ignored the first importuning, but by the second I had to address her metastasizing concern.

“Modesty is a lost art. It’s not a bad thing… usually. Not everyone feels a need to be an exhibitionist.”

You’ll note three things in my response. One, I didn’t back off from my initial assertion. Nothing kills tingles faster than defensiveness or apologia. Two, I continued the ruse under the assumption that my insidious neg was actually a compliment. Three, I added the qualifier “usually” as a means of keeping her hamster in full throttle spin mode.

I see a lot of guys throwing out community-approved negs on 6s, 7s and sometimes 8s like they are jokey zingers, and the result is often bad, as the girl turns on him or slinks away to find better company. No wonder; their technique carries the whiff of insult, which under normal circumstances with normal cute girls will backfire. (Very hot girls who crave assholes tend to better channel direct insults straight to their vagina region.)

The neg is, as Mystery used to implore, almost a hidden code within the larger conversational framework. It’s supposed to be perceived as a throwaway line of sincere and innocent intent that serves two purposes: one, it disqualifies you to sexy babes who start on the assumption that you’re just another joe schmoe who wants in their pants, and two, it infiltrates a girl’s subconscious so that she spends more mental energy analyzing her worth than she does analyzing yours.

Negs often can be as simple as one-word descriptions that are as easily interpreted as unflattering observations as they are as compliments; and therein lies their effectiveness. No need to memorize one-liners. All you have to have at your disposal is a handy list of vital and penetrating adjectives that cause a click and a whirring in the female limbic system. To wit:

modest.
strict.
humble.
wallflower.
unassuming.
strait-laced.
serious.
responsible.
responsible one.
introverted.
conservative.
upright.
polite.
proper.
good person.
moral.
respectable.
hard-headed.
nonconformist.
don’t care about other people’s opinions.
fastidious.
overeager.
excited to be here.
innocent.
out of her element.
guarded.
social butterfly.
above it all.
queen bee.
march to her own drummer.
individualist.
social/fashion/party maven.
netflix kind of girl.
calm.
low-key.
put up a facade for the crowd.
judgemental.
keep to herself.
energized by the scene.
natural performer.
happiest person here.
brooding.
good friend qualities.
easy to approach.
careful.
tentative.

You’ll also note that a lot of these unnervingly ambiguous observations focus on a girl’s presumed inability to cut loose and have some fun. They are designed, in other words, to eradicate anti-slut defenses and persuade her to open up… to you, the fearless judger of her feminine worth. Some others focus on her social naivete, or her craving for attention. Sprinkle to taste. Some of these negs fall under the category of cold reads; the difference being that cold reads are usually unambiguous compliments worded to entrap a girl deeper into conversation by getting her to talk about herself.

Seduction is the art of contrived concealment. You want to seduce without revealing the machinery of your mind, or the purpose of your words. You introduce the dangerous idea, and if you are successful, she picks up the idea and joins you in her own seduction.

At the end of the night she proved to me her bona fide immodesty with a streetlamp illuminated makeout.

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