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The Perfect Answer To “I Have A Boyfriend”

Sep 1st, 2009 by

After Zeets’ barbarous romp through the SWPL cookout of the year, the Asian girl in attendance decided she couldn’t get enough of his Conanical brusqueness and the two of them went on a date a month later. Before the date, Zeets was informed by various palace guards and court whisperers that the Asian girl had a semi-serious boyfriend. This didn’t stop him.

ME: How’d the date go?

ZEETS: Pretty damn good. She’s into me, it’s easy to tell.

ME: How so?

ZEETS: Just the way she laughed at all my jokes. She smiled every time I spoke. And then back at my place we were sitting on the couch, and I started kissing her neck. She moaned loudly, high-pitched, like a horny kitten. I wonder if all Asian girls moan that loudly.

ME: So you got her back to your beastly sanctum.

ZEETS: On the ride over, she said “You know I have a boyfriend.”

ME: Oh boy, here we go. What’d you say?

ZEETS: I looked her right in the eye and said “I don’t care.” She didn’t say anything, but her eyes sparkled with lust.

******

There it is, folks. The perfect answer to the “I have a boyfriend” plaintive demurral, the last moist gasp of a blushing gina about to succumb to a torrent of tingles.

“I don’t care.”

Have there ever been three more beautiful words in the English language? “I love you”? Pshaw. Too plebian. A beta’s cheap substitute for passion. But “I don’t care” encapsulates the essence of alphaness; aloofness, assholery, and authority are communicated in the split second it takes to spit these three wondrous words.

It’s one of the premiere Alpha Phrases, and definitely qualifies as One Word Game, the powerful new seduction system which I am currently developing with a team of crack pussy aficionados.

As with all sciences dealing in the nebulosity of human behavior, there are contingencies and caveats in the use of the nuclear “I don’t care” game changer. One, don’t say it with anger. The words must escape your lips on a pitch of perfect neutrality, perhaps laced with a hint of impatience. Two, context matters. As I wrote in my post on handling the “I have a boyfriend” shit test, the timing of the BF bomb will determine your best response. If she tosses it at you right after you’ve said “Hi” (or worse, on the walk over), your “I don’t care” reply could incite resentment and anger. She’s saying it to get rid of you, not shit test you. But if she says it later, after you’ve gamed her for a minute and sparked her interest, then treat the BF line for what it is — a crass shit test, and a reflexive id-shaped anti-slut blurt. “I don’t care” should be your go-to answer.

Forget every other line you’ve read or heard; the “I don’t care” insta-rejoinder reigns supreme. Besides Zeets, two other men have told me about the lubricated reactions they got from girls when they responded with “I don’t care” after getting heaved on by the ”I have a boyfriend” upchuck.

And why limit yourself?

HER: I don’t think I’ll have any free time this week to meet up.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: Sorry I’m late.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: I didn’t cum.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: How many girls have you slept with?

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: I’m breaking up with you.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: Do you love me?

YOU: I don’t care.

Can anyone deny that the man in each of the above scenarios comes off as totally alpha? Would you be embarrassed to have these conversational snippets of your love life shown on a Jumbotron in front of thousands? I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d beam with pride.

I now predict the overuse of “I don’t care” by millions of apprentice betas. Soon, saturation will mean that girls will respond with something equally witty or with an expert level shit test they deem unassailable. I will give the ladies no ideas here. The sexual arms race continues, straddling the Vaginot line between mutually assured destruction and mutually assured pleasure.

Posted in Game | 240 Comments »

Good News

Sep 1st, 2009 by

Game will never reach saturation point. There are too many disbelieving betas like this guy trying to gain status nipping at the heels of his betters.

(Link sent by an anonymous reader as a BOTM submission. It didn’t qualify, but it did get its own post.)

Posted in Culture, Tool Time | 154 Comments »

Chicks Dig Jerks: A Series

Aug 31st, 2009 by

Some men and most women are so afraid of facing the truth about the gina tingle that even when the evidence is slapping them in the face you will hear them say things like “Oh, women don’t *really* want assholes. They want niceguys who are confident and strong.”

Weasel words. Exhibit A: Love letters from women to death row inmates. Let’s take a latesummer’s jaunt through some of these declarations of undying love for men who have stabbed, shot, strangled, raped, disemboweled, chopped up, tortured, violated in sundry horrific ways, and otherwise demonstrated many qualities of the “confident and strong” man with their unfortunate victims.

It happened to me and I am considered the most level headed person going (apparently) and then people decided I lost my mind! But I wouldn’t swap my man for the world. Sometimes you just have to take a chance! What have you got to lose? I doubted my feelings at first, I just figured it would be another complication for him, and for me. But now, we are as happy as can be. You could find love on the outside, but would you be any better off? Any man can betray a woman and vice versa, but it the love you find is real, it will stand everything that lies ahead. I know my guy could be there for the next got knows how many years, before/if execution comes. But I will be with him all the way, and I will be there if/when he dies. Grab any happiness you can. I was married for several years, and my husband turned out to be a pretty useless liar – he got caught! But with my guy, I have found a person who is so completely on my level, I never thought I could find this, but I did and I am always by his side! Just be careful, some are charmers, some are just looking for kicks, but some are genuine and need loving. If you don’t have experience of death row apart from this guy, then just heed that warning. I have been involved with D[eath]R[ow] for a good 10 years, and I have learned alot, both good and bad. But if you really feel it is right, then just go for it and enjoy it:thumbsup:

******

It took months, for me to find to the word for what I had been feeling since only a few weeks after I began to write a death row inmate. I only told him yesterday; the word that had escaped me was intimacy. Not intimate as in physical touch or sex, but truly intimate. The two of us almost seem to live within eachother. We know eachother in a way noone else has ever known either of us. He says that I scare the hell out of him, because it is as if I can see through to his soul. I feel the same with him, he knows and understands all.

******

To the love of my life, my baby and husband forever, my Randy…love you baby, always ‘n’ ever, Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah!!! Can’t wait ’til he’s home with me one day…and we can have our beautiful babies together. [Editor: Great, just what society needs.] Merry Christmas to all you ladies also, all of us who have this bond because of where our men are :(, Lou, Kyla, Babealicious, rosita, and Kris…I am praying for us all and for our men, that they all know how much we love them and that they will all be off the row one day and home with us, where they belong. 🙂 Love ya’ll. Happy Holidays.

Someone on the forum asked what everyone’s loved one did to get on death row. This is how one woman answered:

Capital murder is the only thing someone can be sentenced to death for. My husband was only an accomplice, he didn’t commit the crime he was so unjustly sentenced for. I however do not feel like anyone should ask that question in the “loving a death row inmate” forum, but that is just my opinion.

Yes, best to ignore that 800 pound bloodthirsty monster in the room. I’d imagine women who love death row inmates are exceptionally skilled at rationalizing away unpleasant realities. A common theme among the letters is how many women protest their lovers are innocent, and how wrong it is of the state to “kill people who kill people to prove that killing people is wrong?????:angry:” [actual forum comment].

More love notes for killer blokes:

Wow… I came into here cuz I wondered how women of lifers are like? Now I know. They’re full of compassion and patience enough to share with everyone here and over there and with their men. It’s amazing how some of you stand by your man and not have a divorce within first 5 years of incarceration. Amazing! I could just cry by just thinking how you endure that! Wow… Also, it seems like intimate loved ones of livers could tolerate celibacy. How? Wow… I just KNEW that love DOES exist without the necessity of sex, I just wanted to see the words of those women with my own eyes. Now I know that type of love does exist… unconditionally. 🙂 God B-L-E-S-S all of you special people! Smile. And I cried the another day several months ago…

Women would rather endure years of celibacy and separation in the faint hope that their death row lovers will be released, than go on a date with a law-abiding beta in the outside world.

I got my first letter from my new friend on DR…I have to admit I was a little timid but when I read his first letter all those feelings went away..He is so nice, friendly, and really warm. He was so happy to get my letter…I must say that I am really looking forward to getting to know him.

A lot of death row love affairs start with the woman writing a letter to one of the inmates. Why do so many women feel compelled to write tender, inquisitive heartfelt notes to killers in prison instead of writing to Nathaniel Schnerdling the accountant who lives across the street? After reading my blog, you now know the answer.

Well…I am not sure what to say or how to say it…I guess I’m just feeling really overwhelmed…and I’m afraid this is something he can’t help me with…he doesn’t know how things feel from my side…I’m hoping that someone can give me some words of wisdom…

Here is a man on death row…that I am head over heels for…and things get more and more intense with each letter and now phone calls…He told me last night that I was his everything. Which means so much more than saying “i love you”…and I am losing it…

Since the beginning he told me that he appreciated me because I had these two worlds My world and Our world…in our world I am his and he is mine…and in my world I go about my day to day life…studying, dating, going out, etc…and I used to be so good at seperating the two…the problem is the closer we get the more time I want to spend in “our” world…not that I am going out less or that school is suffering….more that I have no interest in anyone else…

A well-known game tactic is the “Our World” routine, where you build rapport with a woman by describing how there are two worlds, the outside world where the girl interacts with her humdrum daily life of work, school, friends, etc., and “our world” where both of you share a secret bond and the rules of society don’t apply. It would seem natural born killers are also natural born seducers.

I Can’t Say How I Met Him
We Grew Up Together.
I Can’t Say When I Loved Him
It Just Always Has Been.
Ican’t Say What Happened
To Put Him Where He Is.
I Only Know I Love Him,
Simply Because He Is.
He Is My Best Friend
The Reason Why I Smile.
He Is The One I Love
And Have For Quite Awhile.
No, He Isn’t Perfect…
I’m Not Asking Him To Be.
He Is Simply On Death Row
And Means The World To Me.

Somewhere in America, a girl just received a poem from an idealistic young beta and shared it with her girlfriends for laughs.

I just had to share this with all my friends at PTO. I have a very dear friend on Polunsky Unit, in Texas, and I just recieved the most amazing package from him I have ever seen. I am going to try and get a picture of this artwork to put up.

To any people that see these men as monsters, I just wish that you could feel and see what I am feeling and seeing today. It cost him over $30 to send this package to Australia.

It is a beautiful picture of Indian art, past present and future, and I am one that loves Indian artwork, but I have never seen so much detail and beauty in this.

The other is a painting he did of some roses, and the details are perfect with that painting as well. He painted and sketched them for me :). It isnt normal paper either, its proper artwork stuff. (his level one).

I am just so excited I had to share. I feel the luckiest person alive today, having such a dear friend in my life, that took time out to show how much he appreciates me as a friend.

These men aren’t monsters. Look, he painted roses on higher quality paper!

I have a question (no Im not getting married), I was just curious. When you marry a man on death row, that is already there, and the visits are non contact, do they give you time to be together, so you can at least touch, like a hug and a kiss. Its just something I have always been curious about.

I wonder if Half Sigma would consider death row weddings prole?

Charles made me a beautiful home made card with a neclace on a rope with a little tube of his hair in it. 🙂 It was just so nice to have something thats a part of him, It just made my day. he said i cant send him my hair, doesnt seem fair:(

******

I just got my phone bill in!! My guy was moved from Polunsky to county, and of course it is GREAT cause he has phone access, DAILY, not the every 90 days to call me. The calls are $52 a call 😮 He is so worth it though, but I could of flown over there and visited him in county by the time these calls all hit my bill.

What love does to us all 🙂 He is so worth it though 😀 Now he will be on a limit, cause I will have to prepay the calls. 🙁 On the other hand though, I should enjoy it, because he will be back to every 90 days again after he is done in county. Ummm, but then I will be broke. :rolleyes:
Its so hard to say I cant accept (I wouldnt do that anyway). Just to hear his voice on the other end for 15 minutes, going HEY SWEETIE!! 🙂

Women will go broke for the men they love. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to buy a girl a drink.

Well I haven’t had a phone call in a couple days, no mail either… then today I get his letter that he’s in the hole. :angry: Sometimes this is so frustrating. As if we aren’t limited enough already, now we are limited even more. I haven’t been able to talk to him this week so I don’t even know the reason behind it. From what I hear they are on it right now, sending guys to the hole left & right. He has no food (except their daily meals) they took all his personal things and it will be 2 weeks before he gets it back… so in the mean time he is staring at the walls, hungry, and going crazy… which makes me crazy knowing he’s crazy… does the maddness ever stop???

….breathe…

******

I never, ever would have imagined that I’d fall so deeply in love with him when I first began corresponding with him. But now that it’s happened, I cannot deny it. I have come to love him deeply over the past few months and he feels the same about me. Our souls are intertwined. I want to freely love this man and give him my heart. Yet, at the same time I am scared that I will hurt him down the line. I’m scared that I won’t be able to give him what he needs. I’m scared that I’m just not strong enough to do this. I question why I would fall in love with someone that I will never be able to share my life with in a conventional way, someone that I will never be able to fall asleep with, come home to at the end of the day, or even kiss.

How sweet!

I have been writing a DR inmate for a significant period and really felt we had a deep bond, a sincere and close friendship. Recently our dynamic evolved from platonic to flirtatious. We both acknowledged this and mutually confirmed to each other that there may be something special developing between us. He wanted us to become closer yet I was very conflicted about whether to explore it or not as I have never been involved with a man who is incarcerated so I have infinite issues with this which are intensified by him being on DR.

The ultimate fear was obviously the possibility that he may be executed and the unbearable agony of watching my lover die like that. Did I want to allow myself to fall in love with him knowing this could be our tragic fate?

The woman who wrote the above (which I excerpted from a longer posting) sounded of well above average intelligence.

today i found his updated ad in VOICES FROM INSIDE ,I am very sad because some months ago he told me that he did not have any ad online .im agree that he can write other pen pals .the only think ,i can not accept, is that he lied to me 🙁 i have supported him in anyway i could but now i dont know how to behave:confused:

A death row inmate lied to you? Shocked, I am!

I just want to say that I have been “lurking” here for awhile. I am so excited to have found this site. When I am reading the posts here, I finally felt normal. I am very much in love with a man on death row. I have explained this situation repeatedly to my friends and family. Some of them have suggested that I have lost my mind. I am 28 years old and have a very good job. I am attractive and lead a very stable life. I have several non romantic pen pals on death row but then I met him. I have found my perfect match in every way. We have more in common than most people would believe. My friends have pointed out all that I would be giving up. BUT I already have a beautiful nine year old daughter and due to my career I was never planning to have anymore children so in that respect I am not missing out. I would much rather be with the correct person in a tough situation than with the wrong person in a comfortable situation. I may only be 28 years old but trust me when I say that I have faced more challenges than some people will face in a lifetime. I have found the person that I love and while it’s only been about six months, it feels like so much longer. I know that this relationship will be tough but he is able to call me each time he comes out of his cell, the calls are not collect as they are able to use phone cards and we write every single day. I am so in love with this man. Hearing the joy in his voice when we talk is so wonderful. He makes me feel very special and for once I know that someone is not with me because I am “hot”. He sees my heart and in return I see his. Sorry this is very long but I just wanted to say thank you for posting on this site and giving me a sense of acceptance in a world full of extremely judgemental individuals.

Doubters and feminists will claim that only low class, ugly women would fall for killer men. Oh, really?

This “Loving a Death Row Inmate” forum is ripe for righteous trollery. I’d log in under a female pseudonym (something similarly cutesy as the other female forum members, like “unicorngirlrainbowflyer”) and talk about how my lover wanted me to join him in slowly torturing and killing a teenage virgin, and then eating the victim’s heart together to seal our pact of eternal love, and how the thought makes me cry and orgasm like I’ve never orgasmed with any other man. I wonder how many sympathetic ears I would get?

Reader Arpagus wrote in response to the Death Row Lovers forum:

I have never seen so passionate declarations of love. Wish I could be loved like that. Being on death row obviously trumps everything else you could ever imagine would attract women. What we call game is nothing compared to this.

Even where there is no death penalty, killers are on the top of the food chain. There is a trial here now against a man for killing three people, including a pregnant woman. He got a female guard to enter a personal ad for him, resulting in 84 replies. 16 were already married and 30 sent nude pictures of themselves. Some were journalists, yes, but he he has more than enough real loving pussy left to live happily ever after.

Scott Peterson was on death row barely an hour when he received his first marriage proposal from a female fan. Do all women love convicted killers? No, but the sheer volume and intensity of sexual attention lavished on death row inmates tells us something very valuable about the deepest, sincerest desires of the female heart. And that something is quite discomfiting, indeed.

Whle Smart Sassy Susie the DC Lawyer Chick may balk at the idea that she would ever tingle in the gina for a death row inmate, the truth is that she is not so far removed from the women who do fall in love with killers. Her separation from those other women is a separation of degree, not kind. For every woman who writes love poems to cold-blooded killers, there are one hundred women whose hearts beat fast for an asshole who cheats, a jerk who lies, or an alpha who dominates.

The id monster holds dominion over us all, now and evermore.

Posted in Alpha, Biomechanics is God, The Id Monster, Ugly Truths | 354 Comments »

500 Days Of Beta

Aug 28th, 2009 by

I got dragged by a chick to see the movie 500 Days of Summer……………. ah, alright the truth is I wanted to see it too, not least of which because Zooey Deschanel is such a doll, thereby making up for her lack of range as an actress.

I thought the movie would be a clever indie riff on the typical rom-com, but it turned out to be the usual insufferable paeon to the righteously inscrutable whimsy of women and the ingratiating helplessness of the beta male, leavened with a gimmicky forward and backward calendar hopping effect. The lead male character, Tom, played self-pityingly by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, is the culmination of thousands of generations of beta males distilled into one uber beta. Every time he was on screen, I wanted him to get gang raped by a horde of fokken Prawn. Instead, he just goes on his merry beta way the entire length of the movie. Luckily for him, he is good-looking in that nonthreatening way that appeals to weirdo chicks, so he snags quality pussy despite himself. Had his character looked like the typical guy his crippling betaness would have meant involuntary celibacy.

Here is a partial list of the repellent beta things Tom did:

  • He spends weeks pining for Deschanel’s character, Summer, before making a pseudo-backasswards-move. Game principle violated: The 3 second rule.
  • He peers over his cubicle wall at Summer (she’s the admin at his office) like a creepy stalker. If he was a fat, balding old guy this behavior would get him slapped with a sexual harassment suit. Game principle violated: Everything.
  • His first “date” with her is with a group of co-workers at a karaoke joint. Game principle violated: Avoiding LJBF territory.
  • After karaoke night, they are drunk and Summer makes an *obvious* girl-style move on him — that is, she gives him the veiled opportunity to grab her and kiss her right there. But he misses all the cues and takes her beta bait, agreeing that it would be great to be her friend. Game principles violated: Escalation. Recognition of IOIs.
  • In the copy room, she makes the first move and kisses him. Game principle violated: Being a leader.
  • Somehow, they wind up in her apartment and bang, though the viewer is left not really knowing why she decided to go for it. Game principles violated: Relying on your cutesy emo youthfulness to get any action from women. Obtaining the inaugural bang on her turf.
  • Tom daydreams about Summer constantly. Game principle violated: One-itis.
  • He blubbers incessantly to his friends and < Wise Latina voice > Wise Little Sister < / Wise Latina voice > about his love for Summer and how to win her back after she dumps him. Game principles violated: Pedestal-ization. Toolery.
  • When Summer dumps him in the diner, he is shellshocked. Game principle violated: Always keep two in the kitty.
  • After the ignominious dumping, Tom spends months in a deep blue funk, flagellating himself and bringing everyone around him down. Game principle violated: Irrational self-confidence. Alpha philosophy violated: Interchangeability of women.
  • Summer invites Tom to a party she’s hosting. Tom arrives filled to the brim with expectations that Summer will fall in love with him again, and, in what was the cleverest part of the movie, a split screen shows Tom’s expectations clashing with reality. At the party, Tom sees a fat diamond on Summer’s finger and realizes she is engaged. He sees the fiancee across the room, and then runs out of the party, his soul tormented, his penis shriveled. Run, Beta, run! Game principle violated: How to win back an ex-girlfriend. Alpha philosophy violated: Substituting wishful thinking for reality.
  • While pining for Summer, Tom’s Wise Little Sister tells him to try and remember all the bad times in his short-lived relationship with her. Tom then gets all hindsightful, and recalls in crystal clear clarity what he couldn’t see when it was staring him in the face — namely, all the red flags Summer was planting in his ass. Like the way she dropped his hand first when they were holding hands, or the way she stopped giggling at his mincing hipsterly jokes, or the increasing frequency with which she told him she was “busy that night”. Naturally, this awakening shakes Tom out of his depression. Game principle violated: LTR management. Alpha philosophy violated: Unerring grasp of women’s nature.

It’s possible the director intended his movie to be a subversive precautionary tale for men — act like this guy and you’ll be a loser in love — but I think it likelier that the movie’s point was to serve as a nostalgic wallowing for hopeless romantics (you know, the kind of guy who describes himself as a feminist and is always ready to hoist his latest lust object onto a gilded pedestal) and the c’est la vie wing of the aggro-emo feminized buttplugging beta masses. Case in point: Tom never changes his stripes and never understands how he fucked up. The overriding message of the movie is: Hey man, sometimes love hurts. And chicks are mysterious forces who want what their hearts want, so there’s nothing you can do about it except dance to their tune.

Give this movie to me and I would have had a mentor teach Tom the fine art of sacking up, blessed him with some game and LTR tips, and informed him of the bestial nature of women. Then the movie would have been re-titled 5 Days of Summer, because Summer would have run crying from the room after she found Tom boffing her hotter best friend.

Posted in Beta, Culture | 451 Comments »

Email From Mystery

Aug 27th, 2009 by

I received an email von Markovic (the pickup artist who goes by the pseudonym Mystery) in response to this post I wrote. I can’t vouch for the authenticity of the email, but the writing style and splendid vanity on display do sound like Mystery’s voice. I won’t reveal the email address from which this was sent in the interest of privacy. Anyhow, this stuff is kind of insider-y, so if it bores you you can go over to Andrew Sullivan’s blog and read about Beta of the Month Candidate Conor Friedersdorf’s continued fascination with game and yours truly.

Several points of your article are in err.

1. The mother is not, nor has she ever been, a stripper. She has been in Maxim UK tho. I continue to offer monthly seminars on picking up hired guns which include exotic dancers (and Maxim models).

2. My daughter is not yet 3, to speak of her getting sarged is in bad taste, hell it puts a shit taste in my mouth. Her continued privacy (safety) is my priority. Please refrain from playing with shit.

3. Deadbeat dad talk: it’s as if you have never met me yet speak as if you have. She lives in England with mom yes – close to family. I lived there around the time of my London bootcamp, then traveled to Toronto with them so we could all spend family time there for a couple weeks – we roasted marshmellows with my brother, sister, mother, etc. Then baby and mom returned to the UK while I did my SF bootcamp, LA bootcamp, some pitch meetings for a couple new shows, and a thing for comedy central. I move into my new place in the Hollywood Hills Sept 1. Mom and baby move 30 min. away with nanny (a gay guy) in a month. It’s difficult to be away from my daughter for sometimes weeks or more at a time. We video-skype to stay close – like living in the future. I do not live with mom presently, tho I’m having them living much closer to me.

4. My hair is gorgeous!

5. My nails look fine. Never had nail fungus, this is plain silly. Haven’t painted my nails black in a couple months tho I reserve the right to do so in the future. Or maybe even red.

6. Matador’s hair: yeah he’s had work done: he highly recommends the technology to those students who would benefit from it. Saying wig? Looks like someone wants his face punched in by a man bigger, stronger, and with more wealth than you.

Preselected: When I say I understand women (a mother, older sister, two nieces, a daughter), it means I get it. I get it.

Leader of men: don’t worry, while Matador would press you through the floor, I’m the guy in his ear saying, don’t do it he’s not worth it.

Protector of loved ones: my daughter is not yet 3. Keep her out of your marketing in the future please. What movie is, “fuck with my daughter and I kill you” from?

Willingness to emote: I’m hurt by your silly comments. As if I’d never read them personally. Such time spent will preclude you from playing with the big kids.

Successful risk taker: I may take risks with my career (notice the operative word: successful), but never with my daughter. She is safe and happy. Where did you come up with your conclusions?! Nail fungus? Deadbeat dad?

All this aside, pleasure to meet another person interested in the PUA. Mystery.

What do I do with the text I wrote, send it just to you or send it to my double opt in mailing list? I wonder how big the list is today.

Mystery – Sent from My iPhone.

I don’t know if he meant it, but for some reason I found his email really humorous, and even touching in a twisted way. It’s over the top, it’s all over the place, it’s… an emotionally charged powerhouse. Some of his points are strange (nail fungus?) but I think he was responding to comments left by my mischievous readers.

I would just add that, yes, you do have gorgeous hair, Mystery. And whatever Matador had done to his hair, it’s a work of art. Maybe he should shill for his hair restoration doc. Also, any pressing through the floor that Matador wishes to do should be redirected to superomega David Alexander. A good, solid pounding (face, not ass) would be the best thing for DA.

I don’t have any future marketing plans, but sometimes I wish I did. Rest assured, any marketing will not involve your daughter. 3-year-olds and moms wouldn’t be my target audience.

PS I highly recommend that all the new and befuddled readers who are coming from sites like Larry Auster’s and who seem to fall on the traditional conservative (read: beta) side of the ideological spectrum get up to speed by reading Mystery’s seminal work on the science and art of game. You may also want to read Magic Bullets by Savoy. Then maybe you’ll be equipped to discuss matters for which you seem to have zero understanding to date.

PPS On a personal note, Mystery is of my generation. We grasped the nature of women about the same time in our lives. For this reason, I feel a sort of kinship with him and his mission in life.

Posted in Ridiculousness, Vanity | 393 Comments »

A Sad Day For America: Ted Kennedy Is Dead

Aug 26th, 2009 by

It’s a sad day. Ted Kennedy, lion of the left, has passed from this world. A vibrant melting pot of Americans of every persuasion mourn the loss, and hope to carry on his ideals in their own lives.

I, too, shed a tear. With a lump in my throat, I have written a deeply felt eulogy for Senator Kennedy. Pardon the hastily penned thoughts, but the words came spilling out of me like a deluge.

******

You, Senator Kennedy, are the slime and detritus of fish shit and flotsam that collects on the stones sitting at the bottom of the Chappaquiddick brine.

You, Senator Kennedy, are the bloated fermented sack of pestilent traitorous lying filth who helped pass the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 that in its effects has been a de facto genocide by another name against America’s majority and soon to be minority native sons and daughters, and from which calamitous effects you have spent a lifetime hypocritically barricading yourself behind the safe gates of lily white oases.

You, Senator Kennedy, are the greasy smegma that rings the pustuled, syphilitic cockhead of a piss and shit-stained gutter bum washed up on our streets with the help of an unlimited supply of family reunification visas.

You, Big Fat Fuck Ted, are a genuine American Traitor, brazenly disloyal to the American people while blindingly loyal to your twisted, fetid equalist ideology, and who should be thankful a blessed cancer ate your brain to mush instead of a hangman’s noose breaking your neck in the public square.

You, Kennedy scion, are an Avatar of the Great Lie, a repugnant purveyor of damnable falsehoods. The people of Massachusetts shame themselves in endlessly returning you to office.

Benedict Arnold commends you.

MS-13 laughs at you.

And I, Dear Dead Leader, do the happy dance over the gravesite of your lousy rotting corpse.

joy

Rest In Torment, fucker.

(and people wonder why I stay anonymous.)

Posted in Culture, Current Events, Goodbye America, Inner Beauty | 463 Comments »

Your Girlfriend’s Friends Are Your Enemy

Aug 26th, 2009 by

Here’s a helpful tip for all the men out there: If your girlfriend starts spending a lot of time with her girl friends, and begins speaking of them in glowing terms, you are being slandered. Count on it. This is how girls bond.

When you first begin dating a girl you’ll notice that she’s all too happy to build a connection with you on the backs of her girl friends. Her cattiness will be a sound to behold. If the world were a scratching post, women would be shredding it to its solid inner core. Knowing this compulsion for betrayal amongst women, you can capitalize by joining her in the robust disparagement. She will appreciate your sympathy and you’ll instill that good old-fashioned co-conspirator feeling in her.

Where it gets tricky is when suddenly, one day, she tells you about the great time she had last night drinking til all hours with her BFF Bitches-a-Lot. Recalling that BFF Bitches-a-Lot is the same friend your girlfriend informed you last week was a skank ho, you inquire as to whether Bitches-a-Lot’s skank ho-dom made an appearance last night. Now pay attention to her answer. Does your girlfriend laugh at your roguery and basically agree with you? You’re in the clear. Or does she patronizingly chide you for saying such horrible things, and then wax eloquently about how wonderful a friend BFF Bitches-a-Lot really is to her?

If the latter, you, my good man, were last night’s scratching post. Your girlfriend and Bitches-a-Lot renewed their BFF love over your moldering carcass. Caustic bean spilling and thinly veiled innuendo were served last night, and you were the main dish. Your dog was the garnish.

Never EVER trust a circle of happy girl friends. If you see a sly smile on your girlfriend’s friend’s face, know that they spent last night cackling over what a buffoon you are, and, if the BFF’s white-hot jealousy breached the conversational etiquette, snidely insinuating that you are:

  1. an unrepentant player
  2. a man ho
  3. selfish
  4. an asshole
  5. likely cheating
  6. bad boyfriend material and
  7. leaving tremendous logs in the toilet.

Who cares if all the above are true? The point is that as a man you shouldn’t tolerate saboteurs in your girlfriend’s ranks attempting to disrupt the good thing you’ve got going on. Single, overweight BFF’s are your absolute worst enemy, because their bitterness at being single and fat will only be assuaged by the cathartic release of wrecking your relationship with your girlfriend. Idle vaginas are the devil’s playthings. A single, fat BFF wants nothing more in life than the company of misery.

Unfortunately, there is not much a man can do *directly* to avoid the machinations of bitter BFFs. Stay a powerful alpha force in your girlfriend’s life, and she’ll humor her friends’ dangerous gossip games. It helps to remind yourself that a woman will never leave a man she loves based on the poison words of even her bestest BFFs.

If you want to be more proactive, an effective counterattack is shame. Women may have a bag full of shit tests and impenetrable bitch shields, but a rip roaring public shaming will bring them to their knees. The next time you are out with your girlfriend and her friends, casually ask the bitterest BFF how her dating life is going. Nod sympathetically as you mention how tough dating in this city can be for those of you who are very picky, and then tell her a good man who can appreciate her *interesting* personality is right around the corner. Remind her that when you were single, you got to catch up on a lot of hobbies, like kite flying and antique shopping. Hide your smirk.

Posted in Girls, Guy Rules | 88 Comments »

Stop Worrying About Giving Women Orgasms

Aug 25th, 2009 by

We all know from endless studies and surveys that women have a more difficult time than men achieving orgasm during sex. Many theories have been put forward to explain this mystery, and even to explain why the female orgasm exists in the first place since it’s not necessary like the male orgasm is for procreation. Upsuck theory (women cum when their bodies want to “vacuum up” an alpha male’s seed), bonding theory (female orgasm releases hormones that bonds women to their partners), and mate assessment theory (alpha males don’t hurry love) all sound plausible, but perhaps the answer to the mystery of the inconsistent female orgasm is a lot more banal than any of those exotic theories. It might be that women who were born with their clits closer to their lips have an easier time cumming than women whose clits are a long ways off from their vaginas.

So if your woman has a clitoris-vagina distance (C-V distance) less than 2.5 centimeters, she’s going to think you’re the best lover in the world, no matter how much you smell like ass (link sent by Randall Parker):

[S]imple physiology may have a lot to do with orgasm ease — specifically, how far a woman’s clitoris lies from her vagina.

That number might predict how easily a woman can experience orgasms from penile stimulation alone — without help from fingers, toys or tongue — during sexual intercourse.

In fact, there’s even an easy “rule of thumb,” Wallen says: Clitoris-vagina distances less than 2.5 cm — that’s roughly from the tip of your thumb to your first knuckle — tend to yield reliable orgasms during sex. More than a thumb’s length? Regular intercourse alone typically might not do the trick.

How funny that all the rending of garments by men and women over how to please women in bed might come down to a simple matter of the woman being born with the luck of a short C-V distance. This explanation is so unsexy, but it has the advantage of absolving men of any responsibility for bringing their lovers to orgasm.

“You came already?? But I wasn’t finished!”

“Honey, blame your parents for your large C-V distance. Now be quiet, I’m trying to get some sleep.”

Personally, I haven’t noticed any commonalities among the easily orgasmic women I’ve been with, other than that younger women tend to be better lubed and quicker to cum than older women. (Older = 30+). I’ve been fortunate (or extremely skilled) that most of the women I’ve banged had no trouble reaching orgasm. It’s too bad I didn’t know about C-V distance before, because my natural curiosity for all things beyond the pale would have compelled me to eyeball my exes’ C-Vs while going down on them. I’m pretty sure one of my Russian exes had the shortest C-V in history, if premature vaj juice expulsion is any indication.

The theory of C-V distance does beg the question — why did women evolve variable C-V distances? Why aren’t all women equipped with short C-V distances and free flowing orgasms? Maybe like other variable traits, evolution has thrown a mix of C-Vs into the female population to fill niche ecosystems. Perhaps women with larger C-Vs make better long term partners and mothers because they aren’t being tempted to pursue orgasmic release with every high value guy they see.

I do have some observations about women and their orgasms.

  • Every woman has her unique “finishing position” which she favors for bringing herself to completion. They will want to revert to this position when they feel a big O is nearing the bend. There is no generalization that can be made about the finishing position, except that these positions tend to squeeze the woman’s box tighter. For some women, the finishing position is on top. For others, it’s ankles behind ears. Still others (likely those women who get off on the submissive aspect of lovemaking) favor doggy style for the cunt de grace.
  • An experienced man can usually tell when a woman is having a real orgasm. The gina contractions and facial tics don’t lie.
  • If you date a squirter, you will always know if she’s faking. Have towels handy.
  • Moaning is highly variable. Some women tense up and go completely silent at the moment of little death. Others cry out to their god (“I’m right here watching over you, babe”).
  • I once dated a woman whose clit was tiny. I could barely find it. She was only capable of orgasm through intercourse. Licking and fingering did nothing for her. She said the inside of her vagina was very sensitive. I took this to mean that she had a well-developed G Spot, which made it easier for her to cum from sex. I verified this when I stuck my finger up there and felt a large, ridged swatch of skin on her anterior vaginal wall.
  • I have faked an orgasm with women a few times in my life. Yes, ladies, men do it too. Sometimes we’re bored of the endless pounding. Or you’re not that hot.

I have a suggestion for men who want to make their frigid bitches cum. UNLUBED SEX. Yep, don’t wait for her to mist up, just shove your dry rod in by surprise. The friction created by the intense pain of sandpaper sex will force her clit closer to her labia, thus providing exceptional stimulation. Many tears of love will flow afterwards.

Posted in Girls, The Pleasure Principle | 283 Comments »

Jealousy

Aug 24th, 2009 by

Zeets and I were out with a mixed group. One of the girls got very drunk on martinis (fast action truth serum) and pulled Zeets aside for what I thought was the beginning of making beautiful music together. Later that night, Zeets announced he was going home alone, and the rest of us were left with the job of escorting the drunk girl back to her urban single woman’s hovel, distinguished as they all are by mass quantities of pillows, toiletries, and shoes. Along the way, she mumbled “I just want to get laid before leaving town. How hard is it for a girl to get laid in this town?! By the way, what’s wrong with Zeets?”

I though maybe Zeets’ same night lay attempt had gone awry, that perhaps his game had gotten rusty, but no that wasn’t it. This girl was primed for his pistola, all he needed to do was say “I’ll take you home” and victory was his, and yet he beat a hasty retreat. She wasn’t bad looking, she had a nice ass, and she was leaving town for good in a couple of weeks. Christ, it’s like handing the pussy over on a platter, and garnishing it with an industrial-sized bottle of KY.

The next morning, I called Zeets for an explanation as to why he violated the foremost single man’s honor-bound duty –

Never look a gift pussy in the labia.

– and he gave me his reason.

ME: What were you thinking? That was yours for the taking.

ZEETS: First of all, I wasn’t attracted to her.

ME: Dude, she wasn’t bad looking. Definitely within your historical sphere of acceptability. She had a nice ass.

ZEETS: I’m dating two other women, I’ve got nothing to prove. Plus, she was drunk, yapping like a chihuahua, and saying weird annoying shit.

ME: Like what?

ZEETS: She found out through your girl that I’m going on a date with that Chinese girl XXXX. Then she started freaking out. [Imitating whiny nasally Jewish woman voice] “Whyyy? Why are you going out with an Asian girl? Is it because Asian girls are submissive? Do you want a submissive woman?”

ME: Wow. Awkward.

ZEETS: Yeah, it was a turn-off. She kept it up for a while. Demanding explanations why I was interested in an Asian girl. I just wanted to get away.

ME: Her inner demons came streaming out. Must’ve been the martinis. Still, you could’ve just put cotton in your ears and gotten the bang. There’s a larger principle at stake.

ZEETS: There’s a larger principle all right — getting a good, quiet night’s sleep!

***

Yet another amusing, and cringingly awful, DC dating escapade. The great thing about multiple martinis is that it’s one of the few elixirs that is capable of aligning a girl’s actual thoughts with the words coming out of her mouth. Never listen to what a girl says… unless she’s sucking down her ninth dirty olive.

It’s now my belief that most white women harbor a deep distrust, even jealousy, for Asian women. They see the Asian girl, like they see foreign women fresh off the boat, as competitors for the white men they have come to expect will bow and scrape before their precious white American vaginas. This jealousy contrasts sharply with the indifference they feel towards black and latino women taking their white men. The Asian woman occupies a special place in the mind of white women — with her neotenous features, softer skin, natural slenderness, and purported submissiveness the Asian girl comes armed with a fully operational arsenal of femininity that can bust through the deepest white woman’s bunker. And while most Asian girls who cross the racial Rubicon wind up with big galoot white herbs (see: Hope) or squishy pudding pop betas who look like Conor Friedersdorf, the impact on the white woman’s psyche is nearly the same as if the Asian women were taking all the alpha white men; namely, they sense their bargaining power in the sexual market is being undercut by a worthy foe.

Speculative stroll: The martini girl in this story was Jewish. Does the fact that Asian women possess intellectual firepower and educational attainment almost the equal of Jewish women cause the latter to feel particularly antagonistic toward them? You be the judge.

Posted in Dating, Girls, The Big City Life, The Id Monster | 542 Comments »

Sluts Are Not Less Discriminating

Aug 21st, 2009 by

We were drunk. Words we would later wish hadn’t been spoken came tumbling forth.

HER: Amber got a fuckbuddy. She couldn’t wait around forever for a boyfriend.

ME: What’s forever? Ten minutes?

HER: There’s nothing wrong with having a fuckbuddy.

ME: Have you ever had a fuckbuddy?

HER: I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with it!

ME: Holy crap, you’ve had fuckbuddies?!

HER: [open mouthed stare]

ME:

Ugly-Men

HER: [getting visibly nervous] What? I’m not saying *I’ve* had fuckbuddies.

ME: Jesus, are we talking double digits?

HER: Oh, like you’re one to talk.

ME: [thinking about the girl with the purple saguaro] You know, vibrators were invented for those downtimes!

The next weeks were spent with me recalibrating the pseudovirginal goodness of my woman. Clearly I had missed some red flags. Then I wondered how widespread the fuckbuddy phenomenon was. I wistfully pondered my past conquests. Memories that were once bathed in divine light suddenly acquired a darker hue. Emily? Yep, she must have had a fuckbuddy at some point. Julia? A stable of fuckbuddies. Kim? Doubt she could even make it through the day without a cock buried to the hilt.

I give sluts a hard time when they attempt to redefine the terms of debate with sophistic pretty lies. No doubt they do this because they know, deep down inside, that being a slut is gonna lower their value in the sexual market, and that’s the value that matters most, because it resides at the core of all other values. Nonetheless, my glee at tearing apart the lies sluts tell themselves shouldn’t be confused with animosity toward the sluttastic lifestyle. Sluts provide a valuable public service to guys like me — namely, a clearer path to sexual release. I also want to be able to identify them early on so I know to cross them off my potential girlfriend list, and to double up on the condoms.

There was a time, way back when I was a stripling, that I imagined a world full of slutty girls would be a boon for beta males. Experience with sluts has shown me otherwise. While they may be less discriminating in how often and how quickly they spread their legs, their rebuke of natural female restraint doesn’t necessarily translate to a similar rebuke of choosiness. Bad news for the betas: Sluts are slutty, just not with you. Sluts share the same target acquisition system for the top 20% of males as all women do. Hypergamy uber alles.

Reader Tupac left this comment:

Even if the women only garner a few pump-n-dumps out of such men, they are now keyed in on tenor, timber, warp and weft of the day-to-day life habits of such men and in so doing acquire a more finely honed radar for lesser men who don’t “make the cut.”

True. It may seem counterintuitive, but a loose, cavernous chick will often be *less* forthcoming with her sexual favors if the man she is with exhibits the tentative meekness of a beta.

Reader Arpagus:

And thus it comes to pass that sluts tend to be *more* picky than women with few prior partners, in a kind of twisted paradoxical way. If you are beta, don’t get your hopes up because a woman has had 80 sex partners. Someone with 5 is more likely to sleep with you, perhaps even a virgin.

Sluts may be pickier than chaste women about weeding out the betas, due to their spoiling from illusory experiences with alpha males, but they are far less modest within the circle of alphas for whom they readily part their furrows. That is why, when you hear a girl has racked up 80 partners, you should make the necessary qualification: She has racked up 80 alpha male partners who used her like a convenient sperm receptacle until something better came along.

Naturally, as you slide down the female attractiveness scale (but before you hit the 2s and below), you’ll find more sluts, and sluts more willing to slum it with betas and omegas, because easy access to their wet holes is all they have left to barter. This explains the phenomenon of fat chicks getting more sex than hot slender babes. In response to someone’s contention that fat girls have all the fun, I wrote the following comment over at the FeministX blog:

more precisely, [fat chicks] are too busy getting pumped and dumped. fat chicks have higher cock counts because in their desperation to snag a loyal boyfriend they open their thunder thighs for all and sundry hoping the easy access will win a man’s heart. the higher value women can afford to be more discriminating.

There’s more bad news for betas hoping to drain their blue balls in sluts. Not only are sluts more apt to restrict their no muss no fuss sexual favors to high(er) status men, they find it harder to emotionally bond with men, particularly men who are lower status than the highest status men they fucked. This isn’t entirely the sluts’ fault. If blame is to be placed, it should go equally to the alpha males who occasionally dumpster dive with less attractive women. There is no surer way to raise a woman’s hopes of winning a high quality boyfriend than to have an alpha seduce her for a night, give her the hottest sex she’s had in years, and then leave in the morning and not call back for weeks. Once a woman has had that faint hope instilled in her, she can go months or even years rejecting more suitable beta males in favor of pining forlornly for that one alpha male who will certainly, she tells herself, come around and decide she’s a catch worthy of commitment. And the sluttier she has been, the more fly-by-night alpha males she’ll have lodged in her memory to pine over.

A few years of getting her heart broken again and again, and even the most romantically idealistic slut will turn crassly cynical. And cynicism is the venom that slowly clots the lifeblood of love.

Interestingly, this is further proof that female obesity, just as much as the other factors I’ve written about, has heavily (heh) skewed the mating market against the interests of the average man. Not only does a growing mass (double heh) of fat women result in fewer acceptable partners for men and thus more intense competition for the remaining thin babes, but the fatties have likely poisoned their ability to bond with men because of their history of getting pumped and dumped by promiscuous alphas.

The fate of America may very well hinge on getting her women to push away from the table.

Posted in Pretty Lies, Sluts, The Pleasure Principle, Ugly Truths | 730 Comments »

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