Author: Chateau

Byron writes:

Reformed “nice guy” here with some feedback and solution to a problem I’ve not yet seen in your experience.

Your blog so succinctly highlights the disparity between what women say they want and what turns them on. A crucial distinction that your haters fail to grasp. Sure (most) women want a beta provider but the best fuck doesn’t come after vacuuming the lounge room floor on a Saturday afternoon. It should be obvious to all but the most deluded denialists that this isn’t a rigid dichotomy but a perfect LTR partner can combine both to raise a brood and resist enough shit tests to maintain dignity and remain attractive.

Today I finally solved a common problem affecting this  urban PUA – separating a woman (an easy 8 in this case) from her iPod. She sat next to me on the bus carrying a fashion bag with a label, blithely plugged into her pod. I casually pulled out my phone to “check Facebook” and after a few moments of indifference, gave her a lascivious look up and down and interrupted her with “Hey, what’s that store name on your bag ?”

She unplugged to tell me and I replied “I’m just going to pick out your new season’s wardrobe.” I was rewarded with a brief grimace, she plugged back in and she spent the next few minutes alternating glances between me and the store’s webpage. The bus ride was too short for any close but it was a good chance for some nonverbal game (smiles, raised eyebrows, nods, rolling eyes at the lingerie page) and I had successfully won her attention. Negs, common interest, rapport, innuendo, all in a packed bus with nary a word spoken.

This isn’t a half bad pickup opener to use on girls on buses and subways. It looks a little disjointed on paper, but I can see this working in the field with the right facial expressions. Logistics would have to be favorable as well; you’d need to be sitting or standing next to the girl. The neg as opener is also a favored tactic of mine.

The bigger theme here is how to get the attention of girls who are essentially deaf to the outside world thanks to their use of personal media players. Walk down any street in the city on any given day and at least half the hotties you pass will either be zoned out with headphones in their ears or tappity-tapping away text messages on their phones. And I’m guilty of this too. I can hardly walk a few blocks without using my iPod to listen to Earth, Wind and Fire. The PMP revolution has been both a blessing and a curse for the urban womanizing warrior. Obviously, it makes it more difficult to grab a girl’s attention, but it also provides a DHV opportunity for the enterprising player who is willing and able to disarm the iPod obstacle. After all, the iPod has probably accounted for a 50% reduction in hookups because of all the men cockblocked by its presence. It’s every single girl’s substitute father figure brandishing a shotgun in your face.

It makes sense to think of iPods as the equivalent of cockblocks. Address the iPod first and disarm it. Make a nonverbal gesture with your hand to your ear signaling the girl to remove her earpiece. That’s one way to unplug her so she can hear you. Another way is to simply talk loudly enough so that the girl will be able to hear you over the dulcet tones of Karen O. Most girls will unplug if they think someone is trying to talk to them.

Opening girls who are walking down the sidewalk with iPods is more difficult. You’ve only got a brief window to catch her attention and she’s not going to hear you until you’re right on top of her. Nonverbally signaling her as you and her close distance is an option, but most girls are not going to remove their earpieces because some random dude walking toward them is gesturing for them to do so. You’d have to instead make strong eye contact and open your mouth as if you’re about to say something, as if you’re a tourist about to ask for directions. This is probably the most elegant way to cajole a girl to unplug so that she may fall victim to experience the full joy of your player charms.

Filed under: Game and Related Bloggers, The Big City Life

After three years doing this blog a wearisome predictability in types of hate becomes apparent. The unoriginal uniformity of the hate is its most intriguing feature, as it makes one wonder whether humans come preinstalled with mindware that executes in scripted patterns when certain sensitive buttons are pushed, or if the haters all gather in a secret Hatesonic Temple under the Capitol building to agree upon an approved suite of category hateration.

In the interest of advancing a sociological experiment for the benefit of my amusement alone, I’ve made a compendium of the typical incantations of hate directed at game and at those of us, like yer ‘umble narrator, who preach the Good Word of Game. Below each hate archetype I’ve helpfully included my mischievously glib responses to illustrate the empty-headedness of the hate.

1. “Bitter Beta” Hate

Hater: You are a bitter misogynist.

Translation: Your words make me weep from every pore.

2. Expectation Bias Hate

Hater: No one who writes the horrible things you do could possibly do well with women.

Back in Genghis Khan’s day, haters were known to remark “no one who crushes as many enemies as you do could possibly do well with women.”

3. Moving the Alpha Goalposts Hate

Hater: A real alpha male would be married and raising children as his legacy.

Alphaness required to marry the typical girl and knock her up: minimal.

Alphaness required to avoid the raw deal of marriage and the fun-hindering ballast of children while enjoying the love of many women in long term relationships: sniff my jock strap!

4. StrawHate

Hater: You argue a false alpha/beta dichotomy.

What part of dregs –> lesser omega –> greater omega –> lesser beta –> beta –> greater beta –> lesser alpha –> alpha –> super alpha don’t you understand? (Please note the date stamp of that post.)

5. Etymology Hate

Hater: Your definition of an alpha male is false. In the animal kingdom, the alpha male is leader of the pack, not a cad/badboy/jerk who pumps and dumps women.

Isn’t it just like a nerd to get hysterical over the appropriation of a narrow-sense scientific term to conveniently illustrate broader truths about men and women.

6. Unironic Internet Smear Hate

Hater: Alphas don’t blog. They’re too busy meeting women.

Because, you know, alphas don’t have hobbies. *alpha eye roll*

ps feel free to log off the internet any time.

7. The Political is Personal Hate

Hater: A true alpha lives the life, and does not neurotically obsess about his status on an internet blog.

Other than in a facetious fashion, I don’t think I’ve ever written about my own status, neurotically or otherwise, on this blog. Instead, I simply speak the truth about the world as it is, and give advice about attracting women that has worked for me and many other men. People who are offended by that decide I must be revealing my inner neuroses and obsessions, for any other explanation would surely pucker their sphincters. These people are best suited for careers as buttplug testers.

8. False Premises Hate

Hater: Yeah, sure, game works well for picking up low self-esteem bar skanks.

A great deal of hate is fueled by false premises. Concocting convenient scenarios, imagining the worst of your enemies, and reinterpreting their successes are a salve for the burned ego. Newsflash: your thin-skinned indignation is not my moral crisis.

9. Lifestyle Critique Hate

Hater: You live an empty existence if all you do is have one night stands with sluts.

Some people imagine that because I write about seducing women that must mean I strictly counsel avoiding long term loving relationships in favor of purely physical short term flings. These people are wrong. But they knew that. Of course, that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with the occasional no muss no fuss empty sexual encounter.

10. Gay Love For John Wayne Hate

Hater: If you’re not a leader of men, you’re not an alpha.

I’m sure every male celebrity and emo punk singer drowning in pussy is crying bitter tears that he does not have the alpha imprimatur of Real Men of Stoicism bootlickers like yourself.

11. Rape Hate

Hater: Rape! Rapety-rape!

When all you have is a desiccated, dusty muff, the whole world looks like an unwelcome phallus.

12. Fallacy of Misdirected Obsession Hate

Hater: A guy who spends his life obsessing over how to get women is a loser.

A guy who spends his life obsessing over climbing the corporate ladder to get more attention from women is a loser.
A guy who spends his life obsessing over mastering guitar and playing in a rock band to get more attention from women is a loser.
A guy who spends his life obsessing over pursuing financial rewards and acquiring resources to get more attention from women is a loser.
A guy who….. ah, you get the point.

13. Fallacy of the Natural Hate

Hater: Naturals get women because they aren’t trying to get them.

After many years of practice, I’m sure it looked like Beethoven wasn’t trying when he played piano.
Or: A natural is simply a man whose game is internalized, but the tactics remain the same.

14. Just Be Yourself Hate

Hater: Game is fake.

Game is no less fake than any other self-improvement pursuit to which a man might set himself in order to move upward from his natural inertial state.

15. Victimology Hate

Hater: You’re using game to manipulate woman and control their minds.

In other news, losing 20 pounds was discovered to grant formerly chubby girls strange hypnotic powers over the minds of men. Feeling manipulated, men took to the streets en masse to demand relief from their attraction to these newly slender girls.

16. Dancing Monkey Hate

Hater: Men who run game are just doing the bidding of women. Alphas don’t entertain women.

If you want success with women, you are going to have to entertain them… one way or the other. The same is true of women. Once a woman stops entertaining men with her body, her femininity, and her commitment worthiness by getting fat, old, ugly, bitchy, or single mom-y, she stops having success with men. We are all doing the bidding of our biomechanical overlord, and on our knees to his will we surrender, by force or by choice. You fool yourself if you believe you have some plenary indulgence from this stark reality.
Or: If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

17. Voyeur Hate

Hater: You’re lying about the women you’ve had. Where are the photos?

I remember having a conversation with a buddy about this, where I mused aloud about what delicious fun it would be if I went nuclear and posted on this blog erotic jpegs of the women I’ve been with (hi blogger chicks!) over the past three years, (excepting those lovely ladies whose privacy I value more than the others), just to enjoy the exquisite paroxysms of cognitive dissonance that would rattle the souls of the haters who have spent so much mental energy comforting themselves with caricatures of me. He said not to bother. He explained that I could have pics of me facialing a slew of cuties and the haters would still find some excuse for not believing their own eyes. In other words, haters gon’ hate. Let them stew.

Filed under: The Id Monster, Tool Time

I was speaking with a woman of considerable savviness in matters of male-female socializing. I wanted to know how to deal with a situation that required tip-toeing the line between candor and deceit. This is the advice she gave me.

ME: So this girl that I think is cute asks me if the girl she saw me with is my girlfriend. I don’t want to say yes and risk blowing my chances out of the water. I don’t want to say no, either, because I know women are more attracted to men when those men are getting love from other women. And a “no” would have been a lie, anyhow. So I was thinking about saying something close to the truth that also leaves the door open for continued flirting and possible future hooking up. Something along the lines of, “Well, we’re going through a rough patch now. Hard to say how it will turn out. We’re discussing a trial separation.”

SMART GIRL: Ugh, no.

ME: Why?

SMART GIRL: Too much explaining. By the time you’re finished with that I’m thinking “Wow, sorry I asked!”

ME: You got something better?

SMART GIRL: Just say, “It’s complicated.”

ME: “It’s complicated.” And that’s it?

SMART GIRL: That’s all you need. When a girl hears “it’s complicated”, she gets inside her head guessing about what you mean. That’s the place you want her to be if you want a shot with her.

ME: What if she follows up by asking me what I mean?

SMART GIRL: She won’t. Most girls understand that “it’s complicated” is code for “don’t ask me any more questions about it”. And you know girls love mystery, so they’re not going to ruin a good mystery by trying to solve it.

~~~

So there you go gentlemen. “It’s complicated.” Commit it to memory and deploy liberally. With some field practice, I’ve discovered that “it’s complicated” can serve as a useful stand-in for all sorts of scenarios you may find yourself in with a girl. It’s a go-to answer for all kinds of questions, not just the ones pertaining to your relationship status.

GIRL: So are you dating anyone right now?

YOU: It’s complicated.

***

GIRL: Just how many girls have you been with?

YOU: It’s complicated.

***

GIRL: What are you looking for?

YOU: It’s complicated.

***

GIRL: Will you buy me a drink?

YOU: It’s complicated.

***

GIRL: You’re not going to try to stick it in my ass tonight, are you?

YOU: It’s complicated.

GIRL: *swoon*

Filed under: Game, Girls

For women, that is. Men can never have too much sexual experience.

The following conversation I had with Silverback in the City Zeets will explain why.

~~~

Zeets: I’m pretty sure she’s only been with one other guy her whole life.

Me: Is she a virgin?

Zeets: Not a virgin… technically. But emotionally she may as well be. She has almost no experience with men.

Me: Hard to believe there are women like her outside of rural areas still in existence.

Zeets: She’s a foreigner from [a less developed European country].

Me: Bingo.

Zeets: The first time, she didn’t know what she was doing. It’s like I was back in high school. I tried to maneuver for the kill shot, but she kept her legs shut tight. I had to physically pry them apart. As I’m inching in, she’s squeaking like a mouse. “Ow ow ow”, she’s saying. I’m like, “Uh, ok, you’ve gotta relax here, otherwise this isn’t going to work.”

Me: Then what?

Zeets: Then she’s telling me to close all the blinds and blow out the candles. She likes the room pitch black. I guess it was because she was uncomfortable with me seeing her naked body in the lights. She’s got the bedsheets pulled right up to her chin.

Me: But she has a nice body. Doesn’t she know that?

Zeets: I know, tell me about it, but remember this girl is like a teenager fumbling around in the back seat of a car. She’s self-conscious. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing. Eventually, we did do it, but it wasn’t good. She was too uptight, barely moved at all, and the endless foreplay pooped me out.

Me: That was over a month ago. You’re still with her.

Zeets: Yeah, we’ve done it a few more times since then. I was worried that she might have a weird psychological hangup about sex… maybe a religious thing?… but then it started getting better. She listened to my instructions, and followed orders well. Sex got better. She really loosened up.

Me: She got comfortable with you.

Zeets: Now she’s presenting like a red-assed chimp. She is truly loving in bed, totally getting into it. Sex has gotten even better with her than with some other women who knew what they were doing on the first date. Still need to work on proper blowjob technique, though.

~~~

Sluts may know what they’re doing the first time without much prompting from you, but sexually inexperienced girls who have been allowed to blossom into full, exuberant womanhood under your caring tutelage and by your steady temperament are the true prize, the holy grail.

It is a myth that sexually inexperienced girls are sexually repressed girls. Some are, but most of them are simply choosier than their sluttier sisters. It is more fulfilling to have a girl release with you, than to have her come pre-released by a battalion of men before you.

Filed under: Girls, Sluts, The Pleasure Principle

A reader who requested anonymity sent me some background information on Miranda Kerr.

You probably don’t have many Aussie readers, since they would gleefully point out that Miranda doesn’t take her own advice.

This guy ripped off and lied to her family, just like everyone else around him. Miranda likes the bad boys too.

Search for “Adrian Camilleri” on Google and you’ll find a wealth of shit.

Hey, chicks dig the dark triad.

I wonder if Adrian bought her the right size in between the time he spent stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars from her family? Or maybe it was his diligence at finding a babysitter on those nights when he was taking some time off lying to everyone around him? Perhaps he was good at connecting with her… deeply, so deeply… during moments away from being an über douche master of the universe?

Aaaaannd, take it away, commenters!

Filed under: Funny/Lolblogs, Girls, Ugly Truths

An Australian supermodel, Miranda Kerr, has put together a list of tips men should follow to keep their women happy and their relationships strong. (Article courtesy of reader J.N.)

Kerr revealed her top 10 romance tips to readers of AskMen.com, who voted her most desirable Australian woman in the world. They are:

1. Buy the right size

2. Listen to her

3. Connect with her

4. Know what you want

5. Don’t be afraid to show her love

6. Tell her she is beautiful and romance her

7. Get a baby sitter

8. Be healthy

9. Pamper her

10. Treat her like a goddess

Fascinating! In the interest of generous reciprocation, I offer my list of Chateau-approved tips for women to help keep the romance alive in their relationships.

1. Spend his money to buy yourself clothes in the right size. Men like it when they are made to feel like dutiful ATMs.

2. Talk to him. Constantly.

3. Connect with him emotionally. Sex should be an afterthought to connection.

4. Know what you want from him.

5. Don’t be afraid to withdraw love. Men like to chase.

6. Tell him he is your best friend. Punctuate with warm hug and three pats on the back.

7. Get a baby sitter so that he may spend lots of money on you at fancy restaurants and the theater so that you return home too tired for sex.

8. Be healthy. Duh. This needed its own tip?

9. Ignore him.

10. Treat him like a therapist… who also happens to be penis-less.

~~~

Naturally, Chateau decorum insists on the utmost adherence to sarcasm when the moment calls for it. This was on of those moments. The lovely Miranda Kerr’s list may as well have been titled “Top 10 Romance Tips for Men Who are Already Alpha Enough to Afford Handicapping Their Attractiveness”, or perhaps “Bottom 10 Romance Tips for Beta Males Who Yearn for the Closure of Being Dumped”.

Similarly, my list would work great for 9s and 10s who are dating men so grateful to be with them that the men will put up with all sorts of shit. For the rest of womankind, my romance tips would have any man with a shred of dignity and a molecule of testosterone left in his sack running for the hills.

Kerr’s list — and just about all female relationship advice — neatly demonstrates one of the Chateau’s maxims:

CR Maxim #57: Never trust a woman’s advice on how to please women. Her advice is designed for alpha men she already finds attractive and from whom she seeks signals of attainability and commitment.

Corollary to Maxim #57: A woman’s sex and relationship advice isn’t meant to help men; it’s meant to distract men from what really works to turn women on.

Filed under: Relationships, Ridiculousness

See it here.

“If the public transport was any good would you use it?”

“Absolutely, absolutely.”

“So you admit that it’s not?”

It just gets worse better from there.

Filed under: Culture, Globalization

Reason One

Money is becoming less important as a male attractiveness criterion for women. Note that this doesn’t mean women don’t prefer richer men than themselves; what it means is that more women are making good money and thus the pool of higher income men is smaller than it was in the past. Since women are incessantly driven by their genetic algorithm to seek a higher status mate than themselves, they will respond to culturally imposed shifts in mate quality by evaluating men based on whichever attractiveness traits signal the men’s higher status. As money becomes relatively less important at signaling male status, other criteria will emerge to take its place, such as looks, charm, thuggishness and…. wait for it….

game.

Reason Two

Marriage is on the outs. Wives are being encouraged to dump their husbands, and men are rethinking the wisdom of getting hitched. As falling rates of marriage soak up fewer young single women, men will have more unencumbered pussy to plunder, and they’ll do it with… wait for it…

game.

Reason Three

Chicks dig it.

Filed under: Culture, Guy Rules

Email #1:

I am currently seeing a girl who I like to invite over to my place to have some fun.

She often follows through, but at the last minute she flakes or attempts to make changes to my plans. Recently, she’s done this 3 days in a row.

I don’t get angry, but I don’t budge when she asks me, for example, to go out of my way to meet her downtown to hang out with her and her gay friend at the last fucking minute.

I told her that I couldn’t make it, and that I needed two weeks’ notice before we changed any plans from here on out.

At this point, I’m going to be super lazy at responding to her texts.

What do I do to straighten this thing out?

Ed

What we know: Girls flake when your alpha gravity pull is weak. She’s keeping her options open. Think of flaking as a whoreschach test of your mettle — the more you acquiesce to her flakiness, or seem to tolerate it, the more beta you appear. She’s flaked on you three days in a row? This means you attempted to set something up repeatedly in the teeth of three straight disses of your masculinity. Rat-a-tat, alpha down flat! Remember, your time is always worth more than her time. Why behave as if just the opposite is the working premise?

As for not meeting her downtown with her BGBF, well, that’s the minimum threshold of expected spine-stiffened behavior. Don’t pat yourself on the back too hard.

Here’s what I recommend: Stop trying to make plans with her. That should be step number one. It sounds like she’s still texting you out of the blue, so that means she wants to keep you active in her pool of prospects. How does it feel being a third stringer to a disrespectful ego-inflated bitch? Not very alpha, eh? Good. Now take that feeling and turn it into beneficial asshole game. Don’t respond to her texts for a week. When you do respond, keep it short and serrated:

“Hey blabby girl, gotta go. talk later.”

Of course you won’t be talking later. Wait another week. Ignore any of her texts in the interim. After that (if she’s still texting), text her back with this (ignoring whatever was the substance of her text):

“Drinks at 8 at X. Be there by yourself. yr buying 1st round.”

If she balks, don’t reply. Think of this as the textual equivalent of a backturn. Write her off, or, if you’re a particularly cheeky sort of fellow, fuck around with her everytime she texts in the future:

“Still texting? Come over. I got a new couch I want to fuck you on”

“You’re annoying”

“Stop wasting my text plan”

“gay”

“titty fucking. love it or hate it?”

***

Email #2:

I’ve been seeing this girl for a year. We live together and I’ve still got hand. Her during sex two weeks ago: “If you hit me this time use your left hand, the left side of my face hurts from last time.” I’m still flirting with other girls near her, etc.

Two days ago she tells me that a guy that used to be really mean to her when they worked together emailed her out of the blue (apparently they never hooked up) . He said when they worked together three years ago he actually liked her. She wanted to know what she should write back. My antenna tingled. I played it cool and insinuated he was a weirdo but she still wrote him back a short message.

She didn’t say anything else about it. Last night we were at a bar and she was blowing up with texts. I checked her phone and it was the guy. He isn’t very slick, but since she seems to be eating it up, I’m concerned. He is already hinting he’ll come visit her this summer (we’re going to be in separate cities). I’d like to squash this, any suggestions for my next move?

Other facts: This guy is 2,000 miles away now so they haven’t done anything yet. She is leaving in a week and will be gone for the summer. Right now, she doesn’t know that I know this guy been texting her.

ST

Sounds like you’ve got an ingenue on your hands. This type of girl will coordinate the attentions of multiple men in order to ensure she gets access to the maximum amount of resources. Think Carla Bruni. (Until recently, that is. Poor Carla has hit the wall badly, so she will no longer be playing her game of roll out the cock carpet.) When a girl starts waxing soap operatically to you about some random dude out of the blue, it means one of two things — she’s coaxing a jealous reaction out of you so you’ll give her more attention and love, or she’s musing about cheating and/or leaving you and her inner thoughts are tumbling out of her like a burp from a colicky baby.

First, this was a moment when you shouldn’t have played it cool. A bit of the ol’ ultrabadass would have done more good. No girl I’m dating for a year is going to get my permission, either directly or indirectly, to email an interloping male admirer. The way to answer your girlfriend’s head games is with the dread of loss:

“Hey, great idea, you email your hard-up stalker, and I’ll email my ex-girlfriend. Sound like a plan?”

She’ll get the idea.

Unfortunately, she emailed him, and the result was an extended textplay. (If you remind yourself that wordplay to women is like a handjob to men, you’ll be a little less tolerant of your girlfriend’s phone blowing up with texts from another man.) What were you expecting? Girls live for this sort of multi-headed male attention. Your operating assumption from this point forward should be that she will cheat with him if they ever get together. And that she is completely untrustworthy. You may want to run the Door Pattern on her before she leaves on her trip. I wouldn’t confront her about the texts, as this will only make you appear a jealous low-value lover. I’d just insinuate that the upcoming time apart would mean a lot of exhilarating freedom for the two of you, and that any funny stuff that you find out about means you are out the door for good.

~~~

ST emailed me a followup a few days later, after I had already written my reply to his first email above:

Well R, it looks like this is definitely over. She sent him an eight paragraph email. I had four words, “I’m kinda
seeing someone.” Then there was an entire paragraph about meeting up after she leaves for the summer. She’s been extra careful about her phone and now never leaves it around. But strangely she is acting sweeter toward me than ever. I’ve never had so much PDA and baked goods, what’s up with that?

It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s like seeing a wrecking ball arc toward a building: there is time before it happens, but it will definitely happen.

In any case, any ideas for a good way to break this off with a bang?

Me: “Your operating assumption from this point forward should be that she will cheat with him if they ever get together. And that she is completely untrustworthy.”

Called it. Am I good or what?

I’m not surprised that she is piling on the PDA and feminine sweetness now that her gig is about to blow up. I wrote about this phenomenon in this post about a girl whose best fuck I had with her occurred the day before we broke up.

The afternoon before the breakup we had the best sex ever.  She orgasmed freely.  There is something about breakup sex that brings out the animal in women.  Perhaps it is the only time they can completely sever their emotions from sex and just let their vaginas take over with a man they trust.  Or maybe it’s a last hurrah.  I felt used for my body.

I’ll add that guilt can drive a woman to feminine accommodation of the man she has cheated on, or is thinking of cheating on. Particularly if she has had second thoughts and decided that you are a higher value male than the long distance lover. Anyhow, the way I would initiate breakup sequence is with maximum pain and humiliation inflicted. By that I mean, get caught fucking another girl. When your beloved lashes out in fury and anguish, calmly reply:

“I thought you were OK with this. After all, this chick isn’t the only whore I’m fucking.”

***

Email #3:

Hey…..I’ve been a long time reader of yours and wanted to ask a quick q. – I apologize if you have addressed this issue already…I just couldn’t locate the relevant post. Anyhoo here goes:

When a girl you are flirting with mentions/boasts about previous erotic encounters with alphas  e.g “And then I met this total hottie in Paris who blew my mind” or “This reminds me of that argentinean tango dancer I had a fling with once”, how is one supposed to respond? Should it be completely ignored or should one maybe try to counterattack by casually mentioning real or even fictitious encounters with hot girls?

Thanks for your time

D

Classic beta bait. Subconsciously, this is one ploy that a girl will use to take the measure of your manhood. If you show any indignation, hurt, or jealousy, you fail. If you attempt to counterattack with your own hot lover tale, you risk looking try-hard. The way to handle these “alpha male ex machina” (AMEM) shit tests is either through humor or disregard.

“And then I met this total hottie in Paris who blew my mind…”

“You slept with a gay man? Damn, must’ve been a helluva dry spell.”

—

“This reminds me of that Argentinean tango dancer I had a fling with once…”

“Wow, I’ve gotta poop.”

—

“This reminds me of that Argentinean tango dancer I had a fling with once…”

“Use em and lose em, that’s my motto too!”

—

You could parry the AMEM with an AFEM of your own, as long as you do it right. For example:

“This reminds me of that Argentinean tango dancer I had a fling with once…”

“Hey, if we’re gonna trade sex stories from our past, I’ve got a really good one for you. So there was this cute girl and her mom, and a camera hidden in the closet behind a peephole…”

Filed under: Reader Mailbag

A running theme on this blog is the frightful sight of herbs and betas performing slow motion self-emasculations. While the herb and the beta are closely related, there are some notable differences between them.

In this post, I defined the herb:

*herb, noun – a schlumpy, nondescript white guy with no fashion sense, chin, or sexual gravitas, who has managed to hook up with a cute chick. Herbs usually wear satchels to nightclubs and button down collar shirts with the Hanes undershirt peaking through at the neck. They love anything khaki and are not embarrassed to be seen wearing fanny packs or sandals. A super herb takes it up a notch with white athletic socks and an extra-large t-shirt to hide his man boobs. They have a walk that can be best described as looking like they are carrying a load in their pants. They will annoy you just by being there. The fact that a herb will have usually managed to score a cute yuppie chick will fill you with violent feelings toward him.

You can see another great photo of a herb here. And here. And here is an example of the subspecies hipster herb.

How does a beta differ from a herb? In this post there is a photo of a beta revealing his true nature with an awkwardly placed hand on a cute girl’s shoulder. The biggest difference is that the herb usually has better *conventionally defined* success with women. The herb is not necessarily beta, though he often is. Many herbs in the city can be seen taking long romantic walks with decent looking girlfriends, defying all logic and universal laws. Herbs, therefore, have some preternatural ability to squeak out a semblance of a normal life, despite their shortcomings. Perhaps it is that they are oblivious to their self-defeating behavior, and so attract the type of women for whom dating an oblivious man suits their agenda.

Betas (and omegas), in contrast, struggle to achieve the societally-approved provider chump role to a sexless, ungrateful, Entitled American Princess. They are a more pitiable creature than the herb because their fruitless struggle often results in the stink of desperation trailing them wherever they go. The herb, to his credit, rarely reeks of desperation (until he is dumped), probably owing to the aforementioned obliviousness. Betas are more apt to look like they’re trying too hard, which is why you’ll often see better-dressed betas roaming the streets alone while schleppy herbs shuffle contentedly holding hands with their girlfriends.

In short, betas are the type of guys to spend years with internet porn and video games, while herbs are the type of guys to dutifully push strollers for kids that, unbeknownst to them, aren’t theirs. In the end, though, both betas and herbs wind up fulfilling their role as soulsucked providers to harridan wives, ensuring that the cogs of society remain greased with the sweat of their brows and the tithe of their taxes.

A few more differences between betas and herbs:

beta – dog
herb – dog in a stroller
beta – worries that wife is cheating on him
herb – has no idea wife is cheating on him
beta – wants to be alpha
herb – has no concept of the better life
beta – envious of men with hotter girfriends
herb – chastises himself for admiring classic beauty of older susan sarandon
beta – resigned
herb – compliant
beta – stymied sex drive
herb – borderline androgynous
beta – brain loaded with lies
herb – pants loaded

Reader Carol (a self-described Amazon alpha female) sent me a pic of what she termed a “beta boy”, shopping in Chicago with his girlfriend.

She wrote this about the pic:

My sister is an avid reader of your blog and she introduced me to it.  I check it out from time to time.

I see Beta Boys all over the city of Chicago. Since I got my new iphone…it only makes sense to try and snap pics of these betas. Unfortunately the iphone does not zoom.  But I’m working on this. [ed: if you’re a beta or herb, now you have more to worry about — chicks taking your photo for mockery on this blog.]

Check out this beta cubs fan wearing his girlfriend’s purse.  I had to do a freaking triple take to be sure he was not gay. No, he was wearing her purse. Following her all around the store as she flipped through racks of clothes. Mind you, this was post Cubs game…so they were probably drunk as well.

Jesus. I would never ask a man to hold my purse.  Let alone a sparkly shining number that announces to everyone your man is carrying your purse.

Yeah, this is pretty bad. For this man’s sake, let’s hope drunkenness was his excuse. It’s not even OK to hold your woman’s purse for a second so she can grab at something (let it drop to the floor or put it on a shelf if she tries to shove her purse in your hands); it’s leagues worse to take her purse and then wear it around like it’s your own, while following her like a puppy dog as she rifles through racks of discount panties. This guy looks very comfortable wearing her purse slung over his shoulder like that, as if he’s done it before.

I would classify this guy as a herb if he sees nothing wrong with this picture. Otherwise, he’s a garden variety beta asking “how high” when his girlfriend tells him to jump.

Filed under: Beta, Tool Time

Reader Mike sent me a media release for a book signing by a guy named James Henry (a name like that screams old-fashioned white knighter), who authored a book titled “The Laws of Love: A Guide to Gallantry“. Here is an excerpt of the release:

AS COURTSHIP DECLINES, CONCERN FOR CHIVALRY IS ON THE RISE

A New Book The Laws of Love: A Guide to Gallantry, Helps Induce Gallantry.

Book Launch and Signing:  Wednesday February 10th & Sunday, February 14th 2010

[Washington, DC] – In a time when courtship is on the decline and hedonism is on the rise, one gentleman has stood up against the tide with the power of words and seductive suggestion. Washington, DC native James Henry, an author galvanized by the decline of chivalry, announces the release of his new book, The Laws of Love: The Guide to Gallantry,with a reception and book signing on Wednesday, February 10th at ACKC chocolate shop and Saturday and Sunday of Valentine’s weekend (February 13th & 14th) at the newly opened The Tasting Room wine bars in Reston, VA and Friendship Heights.

A contemporary manual, inspired by a 19th century French love guide, gives gallant advice on the art of courtship for today’s love-starved society.

“These days with the instant nature of news and information, few people make the time to read anything in depth, so I felt that good messages could be better conveyed with fun illustrations and humorous maxims.” Consider them “inspiration to greatness” describes Henry.

Next Wednesday, February 10th, in the lead up to Valentine’s Day, Henry will officially release his new publication with a book signing at ACKC, a chocolate shop and café in Logan Circle, Washington, DC. [ed: a chocolate shop and cafe sounds like the perfect venue for a book this emasculating.]

Now I wonder why a 19th century French love guide would recommend chivalry for men? I’m trying to think about how 19th century France differed from 21st century America, but I just can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s a mystery!

I’m not an anti-chivalry crusader. If you want to be Gallant to the world’s Goofuses, go right ahead. You’ll be digging your own celibacy grave, but that’s one less competitor to me. If you live in some weird time warp American town where gallantry will help get you laid with hot babes, then be all the white knight you can be. Game is about doing what works.

But you’ll be working against the odds. Millions of men from all over the world have reached the conclusion through actual experience in the field that opening doors, throwing jackets over puddles, waiting to sit until she’s been seated first, and buying her drinks are tingle killers of the first order. Gallant doesn’t go home with the babe in 2010 America; Gallant watches perplexed as the babe thanks him for the free drink and then make outs with Gus the Inconsiderate Douchebag.

I have a hard time believing that this guy James Henry is a native of DC and still thinks gallantry is what will help men score with DC girls. Either he’s lying for fun and profit, or he’s gay.

About the only reason I could recommend chivalry as a course of action for the typical man would be if we lived in a world where nearly all men stopped indulging women, and white knighters abandoned their lances for a more cynical, self-centered calculation. With chivalry long dead, a lone knight-errant could conceivably stride onto the scene and turn girls’ heads by doing something no other man is doing. In such a scenario, where women theoretically craved the chivalric attentions of men, buying a girl a free drink might actually be good game. But I really don’t see any evidence for this happening at all in our lifetimes. Chivalry is pretty much dead as it is, and girls are still responding positively to “I don’t buy girls drinks, but you can buy me one.”

Filed under: Beta, Tool Time

Imagine you ignored everything you read here and proposed to your girlfriend. She accepted. Would you have second thoughts if you saw her Facebook page the next day and she had changed her profile photo to this? (hat tip: Lance Armstrong’s Molester Mustache):

The poor bastard who married this girl is in for a world of hurt. He will

NEVER

STOP

PAYING.

Filed under: Marriage Is For Chumps, Status Is King

I had no intention of bringing back the Beta of the Month contest, but these three sad sacks were an irresistible draw. The audience demands it, pay-per-view wants it, and the suits are throwing money at the talent scouts — namely, me.

BOTM Candidate #1 is a commenter to a ridiculously one-sided and myopic online article in The Atlantic called “Love, Actually: How girls reluctantly endure the hookup culture”, written by Caitlin Flanagan and dedicated to the proposition that the princess pedestal is the one true force of nature. I quote Flanagan:

This was how it was, during that endless, unhappy adolescence: my mother desperately trying to warn me of all the heartbreaks and dangers of womanhood […]

Today’s teenage girl—as much designed for closely held, romantic relationships as were the girls of every other era—is having to broker a life for herself in which she is, on the one hand, a card-carrying member of the over-parented generation, her extended girlhood made into a frantically observed and constantly commemorated possession of her parents, wrought into being with elaborate Sweet 16 parties, and heart-tugging video montages, and senior proms of mawkish, Cinderella-dream dimensions—and on the other hand she has also been forced into a sexual knowingness […]

She is a little girl; she is a person as wise in the ways of sexual expression as an old woman. […]

There might seem something wan, even pitiable, about all these young girls pining for boyfriends instead of hookups.

Hey Flanagan, one word: hypergamy. Look it up. Then try writing something that examines the issue of the sexual market with a little more full spectrum analysis.

The commenter’s handle is Uncle_Fred, and he writes in reply to Flanagan’s sexegesis (partial quote):

I’m of the Generation Y group (I’m 24). I don’t fret over it if my girlfriend wants to go out and have a one night stand with someone else. I just ask that that she calls me a couple times so I know she is safe. She is young and I would rather her have a good time while she can.

Enlightened Renaissance Man, or wretched loser? You be the judge!

A question for David Alexander Uncle_Fred comes to mind. Is this slut really your girlfriend, or is she your “””girlfriend”””, i.e. a chick who lets you sob on her shoulder but won’t let you sob in her cunt? You come out looking bad either way, but if the former description is in operation, you, sir, have descended to new lows of abject betahood. Your psyche may as well be the poster boy for microphallic minimasculinity.

Another commenter followed up to Uncle_Fred’s remark:

Wow, no kidding. Good for you for empowering your girlfriend that way… assuming that the arrangement has actually been tested?

It’s funny how in the face of psychological neutering and Darwinian obliteration, all these progressive-minded SWPLs can think about is how “empowering” it is for the woman involved. Something to keep in mind about empowerment — usually one person’s empowerment means another person’s powerlessness. Especially when the field of play is the sexual market, a zero sum game of the greatest urgency.

***

BOTM Candidate #2 is a classic cuckold, with a nauseating twist: he, like, totally forgiiiiiives his cheating wife and mother of their one-year-old child.

Tiffany Tehan, 31, disappeared Saturday, leaving behind husband David and 1-year-old daughter Lexie. The vanishing act triggered a cross-country search until police, acting on an FBI tip, found her staying at a Miami Beach motel with Tre Hutcherson, a man police had called a person of interest in her disappearance. Police quickly determined that Tehan was not in danger.

“She left voluntarily with this fellow and drove to Miami to — and these are her words — start a new life,” Miami Beach police Sgt. Wayne Jones said. […]

Husband Forgives Wife Immediately

David Tehan said Thursday he was angry at Hutcherson but that he “absolutely” forgives his wife. When asked why he forgave her, Tehan said, “I don’t know. It’s supernatural.

“She may have made some mistakes but everyone does and I can’t blame her for any of this,” the husband said. “She’s a person like anyone else getting through life, and it’s not always easy.”

Don’t these sound like the mincing words of a man who believes he cannot get any other woman? A big problem feeble betas have is a lack of understanding of the psychology of women. David doesn’t understand that by directing his ire at the interloping male and lavishing “forgiveness” on his cheating whore wife, he stokes his wife’s disgust with him. Not to mention he offers her a plenary indulgence from guilt or shame or any consequence whatsoever for her brazen cheating. What’s going to stop her from doing this again, to him or to any other similarly brainwashed man? As far as she knows, nothing. After all, her own cuckolded husband has called her blameless. “I’m a woman, please perch me high atop my victimhood pedestal and wash my dainty feet with oil!”

“Some mistakes.” “Mistakes were made.” “We all make mistakes sometimes.” The pathetic mewling of the untermensch. Wake up, son, and see the light.

The Beta:

The Bitch:

The Badboy:

***

BOTM Candidate #3 was submitted by reader Luke. He writes:

Unfortunately I have no information about this situation, other than it is in Madison Square Park, NYC. In any case, it’s good for a laugh.

This was the attached photo:

Anyone know anything about this guy? Could be a radio station prank, like the one pulled by a DC-based station last year. If it’s authentic, then there’s no denying the gravity of the groveling by this extraordinary beta.

***

The voting:

Filed under: Beta

Zeets phoned in from the bowels of DC.

“They passed this law that puts a five cent fee on each bag you use at a store. The city’s already made something like $150K off it.”

“Leftie fascists.”

“So I’m standing in line at Giant and don’t have a reusable bag with pictures of basil on it because I’m not a fag. The herb in front of me doesn’t have a reusable bag either. When the cashier asks if he needs a bag he hangs his head down in shame and sheepishly says yes. He couldn’t make eye contact with anyone.”

“So this is the new SWPL status signal, the reusable bag?”

“I hate them all. Anyhow, there’s a line of fifteen yuppies behind me. The cashier asks if I need a bag. With my head held high I proudly say ‘Yes, I want a bag. And double bag the milk.’”

“I like the use of the word ‘want’ instead of ‘need’. Very sly.”

“Thank you. I made sure to scan the line when I said it. I wanted those herbs to cower in fear.”

“Did you grunt a little for emphasis?”

“There was a genital display as well. When you walk down the streets here all the shamed-faced hipsters with plastic bags try to hide them in their coats or behind their backs so people don’t notice. This country needs a good, cleansing total war.”

Filed under: Alpha, The Big City Life

Reader Chad emails:

Why so many rape fantasies in women’s romance novels? How to take advantage of this female perversion without getting arrested?

It’s true. Romance novels, read almost entirely by women, are flush full of rape fantasies. If fantasy (or as I like to call it, “hyperreality”) didn’t reflect reality then we would hear and read of fantasies by women featuring beta males, short dweebs, nerdos, fatsos, and charmless stutterers in the role of desired man. But we don’t. Women’s fantasies, like men’s fantasies, provide a window into a wished-for reality where all options are available, all choice catered to, all desires quenched. Rape fantasy, despite the protestations to the contrary of the “fantasy is different than reality” crowd, is as much a reflection of real female desire as any other form of sexual fantasy.

Women fantasize about a lot of things that no one argues don’t reflect reality if that reality were an option. What fantasizing woman wouldn’t truly want to be a princess who gets swept off her feet by a prince living in a castle? What single woman who dreams it wouldn’t sleep with Johnny Depp in real life if he propositioned her? These are common fantasies of women which they never argue aren’t reflections of how they wish reality were. So why should we grant a plenary indulgence to rape fantasies? How is it that rape fantasy is the one glaring exception to the reality-reflection rule? Men also fantasize about stuff like threesomes with supermodels, but no one in their right mind would argue that men don’t actually want threesomes with supermodels in reality, if having them were possible. (Wives or girlfriends, don’t bother asking your partners. You won’t get an honest answer.)

Back when I was a stripling newly intoxicated to the allure of women, I went to the local library and read a few pulp romance novels to better understand the contours of female desire. (I knew even then that romance novels are wank material for women.) Naturally, being a man, I chubbed out reading the surprisingly explicit sex scenes and was bored with the rest of the plot. Let me tell you, the dreck of the literary world lies in the pulp romance genre. But I soldiered on. I knew that some keys to successfully seducing women would be found in between the pages of those trashy paperbacks.

And, yes, the books I read had rape scenes. I remember recoiling at those, wondering at the depravity of women if this is what they craved. I looked for commonalities in those scenes and noticed that words like “overpowered”, “overwhelmed” and “powerless” were used frequently. The horny protagonists victims were often pushed up against solid objects, like big oak trees, and roughhoused from behind, never once seeing the face of their attacker (he often wore a mask), although there was much florid description of his musky aroma and muscular body pressing into her helplessly yielding flesh.

Rape fantasy reflects a deep, inborn, uncompromising sexual desire by women to be rendered helpless, almost childlike, by a more powerful man. It is the submissive scrawling of their hindbrains, a message in a novel sailing forth from the female limbic labyrinth. And from submission to a dominant male force is born the strongest love.

I loved that he was so powerful I was nothing.
– O

Does this mean women would be sexually turned on by real life rape? It is a question not so easily dismissed when we begin to examine closely the sexual fantasies of women. Dismissed it is, though, because no one — man or woman — wants to creak open the vault door that houses such primeval female decadence. For if women do harbor secret desires for dark seductions, then what is left of the pretext to chivalry? Women benefit from some amount of cultural pedestalization. *Societies* benefit. There is no room in a healthy, functioning society for mischievous inquisitors to lay bare the true soul of woman.

My understanding of women, and from what I’ve gleaned from their romance novel porn, leads me to believe that rape is a fantasy for women when the rapist is implied or otherwise insinuated to be the sort of man for whom women would surrender themselves in other contexts willingly, (i.e. an alpha). Women do have a natural sociobiological revulsion to rape by losers, because their most precious asset — their womb — cannot suffer lightly the gimped seed of omega chumps forcibly implanted. But what of rape by a masked alpha? That’s where the moral certainty yields to an unforgiving, and wholly discomfiting, ambiguity.

To Chad’s question above — how to take advantage of this female perversion without getting arrested — I would not suggest actual rape of your beloved. Don’t jump out at her from behind a bush while she’s walking home alone at night. But there are ways to simulate the heady rush of a lustful rape that will not only press her buttons, but yours as well.

Inform her that one night in the not too distant future she will experience something she won’t be prepared for, and shouldn’t expect to prepare for. On that night, while she’s getting ready for bed, you will cut the fuses so all the lights go out. As she’s standing in the dark, approach the doorway wearing a ski mask and dark clothes, and slowly instruct her to put her hands against the wall, in front of the window. She will, naturally, recognize your voice, so some of her fear will be mediated, but she won’t be able to see your face. It is important for the rape enactment that you act as if you are not who she thinks you are. She will appreciate this ruse, and might even be able to tempt herself with the thought that you are a stranger who sounds like her lover.

With her hands on the wall, you will approach her from behind, reminding her not to look back at you. Tell her not to struggle or make a sound. As you step up behind her, put a knife to her throat (for advanced rape enactors only) and allow your body to linger closely without touching her for a minute. Breathe heavily, creeper style. Then thrust your hand violently under her oversized nighty t-shirt and grab her panties, pulling them across her ass until they rip. Bury your hand in her mound. She will be dripping wet. Put your wet hand to her nose and angrily whisper in her ear that her wet pussy belies her fear. She will attempt to turn around to see you. With your hand firmly clutching her face, force her eyes forward. Press her cheek hard into the windowpane. Enter her.

When you are spent, I guarantee that afterward she will lovingly rest her head in your chest and confess that she had the most earth shattering orgasm of her life. Repeat for your other three girlfriends.

Filed under: The Pleasure Principle

It’s commenter appreciation day, when I pay tribute to the love and joy that you, the readers, bring to this shadowy outpost. Consider today a respite from hateration and an embrace of loveration.

First, the best pulled from the files of Kick a Bitch:

damn that bitch fell out of the ugly tree and smacked EVERY branch on her way down.

you couldn’t crack that head with a sledge-hammer.

– “Visualizing Omega“

I’m ashamed to admit this… but I’m afraid of stank-ass unkempt vaginal canals. You don’t have a stank-ass unkempt vaginal canal do you?

Look at that shit… straight MONEY. Not only did I utilize a VMD, I also tossed in a little qualifier as well.

Bitches don’t even see it coming.

– “Vulnerability Game“

both are fat, would only let them give me head. i would also try my best to gizz on their face.

granted, this would apply to most women but wth, figured i would toss it out there.

– “Fat Or Not Fat?“

wow, i REALLY like to use the word bitch don’t i?

haha, misogyny rules…

– “A Test Of Your Game“

players do what they do because they want as much validation from women as possible.

uh… i think it’s more like players want as much tight, hot, young snappy-nappy dugout wrapped around their johnsons [as they can].

i mean, i’m just saying… i imagine i could be wrong on this one.

– “Used“

For the record, you fags need to suck on my vinegary balls.

– “Safeway Siren“

***

Powers draws an apt comparison:

Girls like game like men like porn.

Men know exactly what’s going to happen in a porno and they enjoy it all the same.

In fact, the closer the porn conforms to his fantasy, the more he likes it.

Game is the same.

– “Does It Matter If Girls Know About The Game?“

***

The Vic Valentine/G Manifesto duet was one of the funniest things to happen to this blog’s comments section. Here’s a selection of V.V.’s best:

I would go for option #8:

Pull out a bag of 100 E-Tabs and kilo of coke I just got delivered by three Swedish stewardesses and say:

“Who threw this party? It sucks. Let’s get this gig going! Everyone take three E-Tabs!”

Shoot the DJ in the head and throw on a Rush album.

Then commence getting every girl in the place to go home with you and the girl you are dating.

– “How Good Is Your Alpha Acumen?“

I was the one banging the groupies at that age, back when I used to shop at Savile Row Junior and eat Flintstones chewable E-Tabs. My prepubescent penis would probably put the G-Man’s adult unit to shame.

– “Did Michael Jackson Commit Suicide?“

“True story. I once pulled my dick out on a young 18 year old lady at college and claimed that it was 9 inches…..she fucking loved it and i procceeded to bang her multiple times.”

Until I rolled up in my Ecosse Titanium, showed her my 15″, banged her right in front of you, and then tore off at 200mph. I thought I saw you crying in my rearview through all the dust and exhaust fumes.

– “500 Days Of Beta“

“IME a significant number of non-westernized Asian girls make crying noises during sex.”

An elephant would make crying noises during sex with Vic Valentine.

– “The Perfect Answer To ‘I Have A Boyfriend’“

My current watch is a 201-carat Chopard. If you’re on a budget, check out the Louis Moinet Magistralis.

– “The World’s First Hot Chick With Douchebag“

“A dog will probably tell you how alpha you are”

True. I once had a dog try to sniff my level of alphaness. He exploded.

– “Owning A Dog Is Training For Owning A Woman“

“designs on the Zippo (ace of spades, for example), colors (black, green, red) or only plain?”

Most of mine are made of Rare Earth Metals (Francium, Astatine, etc.), I also have one made out of Higgs Bosons.

But they also come in platinum if you’re budget-conscious.

– “What To Do When A Girl Starts Crying For No Reason“

***

But the G Manifesto will not be outdone:

Once they handed me the camera, I would say thanks, flip it over, pour some blow on the screen and snort it.

Then say to the guy:

“Hey waiter guy, grab me a double vodka soda!  And double time it!  I am pretty wired right now!”

Then turn back to the girls, pile of blow on the camera, and say:

“Oh.  Would you like some too?”

Later, I would roll back to their standard double room at The Radission  (all four girls sharing two beds no doubt) and whistle up some champagne and vodka from room service.

I would deny the Asian girl from ordering the “grande Nachos”.

Then I would swoop them all.

A true gentleman always denies a girl the grande nachos. Who said chivalry was dead?

***

Cannon’s Canon rolled out a charming tale from the hood:

Off topic: I was playing basketball outside tonight in Ann Arbor.  As I approached the court, I saw a white female behemoth standing and watching next to a short black man.  The man appeared very short and slightly misshapen; I assumed some crippling physical impediment.  The woman was a true whale, possibly comparing unfavorably to Cigstache.  Her neck was fatter than her head and cascaded as a trapezoid toward her blubbery body.  I was impressed to note she walked without a cane, as I was certain she would qualify as handicapped.  Her MC Hammer mumu-pants were form-fitting toward the waistline, which was graciously covered by a ragged size 7xl t-shirt that even Cheese from The Wire could not pull off fashionably.  I made no remark of their race, because they were both, categorically, just “retarded.”

Imagine my surprise when this guy got on and showed the poise, speed, and handle requisite to a point guard.  He was one of the best players on the court, and I quickly ruled out classifiable mental retardation.  While he certainly was not a handsome man, his athleticism and confidence implied a base virility for the sexual marketplace.  He could surely fuck 2s or 3s with ease.

Then it dawned on me… My God!  GNP has been preaching the straight truth, not that I ever doubted it.  Here was a black man scraping the absolute nadir of the barrel.  By keeping such a vile beast sexually relevant, he removes the need for this fatso and such phenotypes before her to improve themselves at all!  This was not mere “retard love” as I’d first suspected, but rather, a black man’s willingness to make love to a veritable retard.  I shook my head in disappointment at this act of terrorism against the white man’s well-being.

Every time an obese woman manages to get laid, god smites a kitten. By sitting on it.

***

Mu’Min Seeks FAAAAT WuMin answered Cannon’s comment above:

The thing is, each black dude does not keep only one woman fat.  He keeps THREE woman fat.  One black dude services three fatties at once, inflicting asymmetrical damage to the beauty stats.

They prefer the fat black women, however, since they want women who resemble the great beasts of Africa in size, shape, color, and texture.  White women only manage the size and shape, but can’t really simulate the color and texture of a rhino or elephant or cape buffalo.  Only black women can.

I scratch my head as to why my blog has not entered the respectable mainstream yet.

***

And here’s another gold comment from Cannon’s Canon:

places i would jizz on january jones, a top five list:

1. her pursed lips
2. a shielding cheek
3. a bullseye forehead
4. titties, pressed together
5. backshot city, using the vertebral column as a makeshift measuring device (can i clear L4 tonight???)

oh yeah, her last shriveling excretion from those unused ovaries, via the bottom of her pussy-hole?  not on the list!  well, the top 20 list anyway.

***

Raddark had an insightful comment about why women sympathetically identify with beta males in the movies when they don’t do the same in real life:

“Can someone shed some light on why women enjoy watching beta males on the screen, but are repulsed by them in real life?”

They see themselves in the role of the beta, not the girl the beta is chasing. They transplant the dynamic they’re aware of most (wanting that guy at the top of the food chain, and him not giving her a look) into the situation. It’s a twisted kind of empathy. Twisted because they deliberately make themselves blind to seeing themselves being in the role of the movie love interest. That would cause too much discomfort. Thinking that they might be causing heartache and pain to so many men is not a thought that can be allowed to pass through their head without some kind of rationalisation to neutralise it. The biggest rationalisation they come up with of course is that the beta male deserves what they get because of some inherent personality flaw. Hence the pure hatred a lot of girls display towards betas. It makes the pain they cause through rejection no longer their responsibility. “I hurt him? So what, he’s a dweeb.” In the movie they don’t have to go through that rationalisation process because they’re identifying with the male hero, not the female villain.

***

Welmer gives us a slice of his interesting life:

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.

The whore who lived a couple floors below me in Beijing moaned that way every single night, all summer long. It was a well-honed performance — she should have tried out for the Peking Opera.

**

Game Skeptic believes game will be the ruin of Western civ:

After a great deal of investigation, analysis, and reflection, I have concluded Game is incompatible with Aryan DNA and traditions, and its practitioners are enemies of western civilization.  Additionally, the whole thing is straight sociopathy.  I’ll elaborate in future comments, but it was the praising of that stupid fucking bug eyed Australian teenager as the ultimate alpha which sealed the deal; you guys are fucking nuts.

A funny image pops into my head of Nazis poring over an illustrated guide to enemies of the volk, except instead of big hook noses, the illustrations are of men in furry hats and guyliner.

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Young bachelor gig is always good for a laugh:

yoga is evil, it is a satanic art.

it allows herbish, SWPL men the chance of being themselves and still bang hot girls instead of following their rightful [path] towards bachelorhood and extinction.

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the best dog is your parents´ dog or your married brothers´ dog.

you can play alpha as much as you want and avoid dog´s shit, worry about dog´s food, about the inherent gayness of having a dog looking at you while you jerk off and barking while you fuck a girl.

also, fucking a girl who owns a dog kind of feels, for you and the dog, like a cuckolding.

***

This comment by Chrissi Minx could be a Lifetime movie of the week:

Let me start from the beginning, I am 18 and my sister is 21. I just finished high school and my sister is home from college. I guess this year her grades started slipping or something, because I walked past her room and she was crying. I walked inside her room to ask her what’s up and she hands me a letter – apparently she’s up for review by her college for dismissal. I feel kinda sorry for her so I gave her a hug and one thing led to another and we started making out. This is really weird because I’ve made out with girls before, but my sister blows them all out of the water. In the back of my mind lies the fact that she’s my sister and what we are doing is sick and wrong, but I guess my sister has more experience and it felt so fucking good.

Here’s the dilemma – after making out, Karen started taking her clothes off and she started pulling my pants down. I’m like, hey, what are you doing? She’s like, oh come on Jordan, aren’t you even a LITTLE curious? I felt bad because its true, my sister is a hottie and I always wished that she wasn’t my sister. I’ve even gone as far as to fap to thoughts of doing her. She then said “For tonight, let’s not be brother and sister. I really need this because I feel like shit right now and our parents won’t be back till late and we aren’t going to tell anyone.

I pretty much just fucked my sister. No, to be more honest, I just lost my virginity to my sister.

***

I’m not sure if this comment by K qualifies as a score for her:

Surprised there is no question on here about what (if any) STDs you have. Were I not an atheist, I would thank god everyday that I have herpes. It works like a charm to scare off assholes like you.

***

Vladimir rakes the diamond industry over the coals (heh), and by extension strips bare the crass status craving and materialistic impulses of most women:

aliasclio: Waste of a good diamond, roissy. Part of the point of engagement rings is that they’re beautiful, even if useless.

I strongly disagree. Diamonds are a vulgar and grossly overvalued product, lacking all the unique properties and charms of truly precious substances like gold. I can’t help but admire the idea of this ring with an inward-turned diamond. It’s a creative way to subvert a ridiculous custom.

For start, the diamond engagement ring is not an ancient custom at all. It’s the result of a successful marketing ploy by the global diamond near-monopoly De Beers from two generations ago — a completely fake and manufactured tradition. There’s a plausible theory why the marketing campaign worked so well: around that time, courts stopped awarding damages for breach of promise to marry. (Such lawsuits were based on the assumption, back then certainly true, that if a girl lost her virginity and got dumped, her marriage prospects were greatly damaged.) Thus, women started demanding expensive gifts as bonds from their fiances before giving them sex, and De Beers filled that demand perfectly with their diamonds:

http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~siow/332/rings.pdf

http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~siow/332/rings.pdf

Moreover, diamonds are not a truly rare and scarce substance like gold, which is impossible to manufacture except for the tiny quantities mined. Diamond is just an allotropic form of carbon, and it can be industrially synthesized from ordinary carbon (i.e. coal or graphite) in a form indistinguishable from the “real” mined ones. The synthetic diamond industry is churning out ever larger stones at an ever lower cost. De Beers is of course fighting like hell against this technology, and they’ve even successfully lobbied for regulations thatsynthetic diamonds must be physically branded as such. However, I’d still bet that the technology will continue advancing, and in a not so far future, diamonds will be just cheap trinkets, unless I’m underestimating both the skill of De Beers’s marketing and human stupidity.

Thus, diamonds are definitely not a reliable store of long-term value (this not even considering that many people pay the entire value of the thing all over again in insurance). And even regardless of that, while e.g. gold really has a unique and mysterious charm, a diamond is just a piece of coal that’s been held under high pressure for a while, and machines are available that will actually do that.  The damned things aren’t even particularly durable — they are fairly easy to shatter, and they’ll burn at roughly 700C. If your house burns down, your gold will still be there, even if melted, but the diamonds will all vanish into carbon dioxide.

Of course, all this is not even considering the unfairness of the custom and the fact that it brings out all the worst irrational bragging urges in women. Unless he’s rich, a man who wanted to spend thousands of dollars on a useless whim just to brag in front of his friends would be condemned as an irresponsible spendthrift, yet women consider this as their inalienable privilege. That this frivolity is expressed through such a vulgar medium only makes it worse.

***

Ren is a good example of the haters who took my dating market value tests, was disgusted with it, yet couldn’t help but calculate a score:

This is fairly biased. Really. Shitheads and Wifebeaters score the best? Ahahahahahaahaa. Someone must like it rough.

+6 here.

***

PA gives good advice to men who have it in their heads to do the married with children thing (or forgot to wear the condom one night):

That’s quite true, and solid LTR game takes this heavily into account. Prior to having a kid, marriage is little different from having a girlfrined. But childbirth can change everything.

Notice I said that childbirth “can change everything,” not “changes everything.” It is a woman’s instinct to convert the husband into a nest drone. Don’t fault her for it; it’s a natural thing she is unconcious of, like shit testing. And I saw this happened to a buddy whose wife made him into a complete slave.

A few couples visited us a several weeks ago, and when evening came and I gleefully pulled out my top-shelf vodka and my custom shot glasses, she said: “[husband’s name] does not feel like drinking tonight; he now has a baby he’s responsible for.”

I looked at him questioningly, and he looked away from me, forlorn. Two other dudes and I had fun without him.

But it’s not difficult to avoid the fate of a nest-drone, provided your wife has had loving feelings for you up to then. Some tips:

– do play a lot with the baby on your down time. Ideally you should <i> want </i> to do it; it’s your kid and your attitude should normally be that he or she is the most precious human being in the world.

– assume traditional gender roles. Don’t change poopy diapers. Men have a natural, violent revulsion to poop, mothers don’t; she pushes the stroller, etc. Again, ideally, this shouldn’t be a negotiated or fought-over; a good mother and wife will want to do the feminine things for her baby.

– With regards to the above, don’t swing in the opposite direction and neglect your responsibilities. Do help out and be involved. Remember that as a captain of this ship, you are ultimately responsible for its success.

– Cultivate an understanding that a child will grow up psychologically healthy when he or she sees the mom respect the dad.

– Remember, you are still the head of the family. You are the captain, your wife is the competent NCO. You are the commanding officer, she is in charge of the day-to-day things.

– Let there be an understanding, that in the big scheme of things, you and your wife are still each others’ first responsibility. The child will fly away one day, and you will still have one another.

– Having a child is really the greatest responsibility you can have. And the biggest joy that life can give you, if you forgive the sappy language. Thus, it’s up to you to step up. At the very least, you need to maintain your alphatude in marriage.

***

Basil Ransom pithily explains why girl sluts are worse than guy sluts:

Girl: Why is a girl a slut if she hooks up with multiple guys?

Guy: Think of it like a lock & key. A key that can open a lot of locks is a master key. A lock that can be opened by multiple keys is a weak lock.

***

Mopenhauer attempts a distillation of history as seen through the heavy-paned windows of the Chateau:

This is where Roissy’s history of the world begins. According to his version of history Western Christian feudalism was best able to repress the sexuality of the alpha male and his female customers.  Unlike the Muslims or Orientals there were no harems of females for Alpha males. Instead there was a forced monogamy imposed on both females and alpha males. The triumph of the beta male and his K strategy of investing in offspring lead to the hegemony of the West. This is similar to Freud’s thesis that civilizations progress was based on the Superego’s ability to harness and control the Id. Those disenfranchised elements of Western society were slowly integrated into the “reverse dominance hierarchy”. The last step was the integration of females and then the beta utopia, the Ayn Randist dystopia. But according to Roissy that was the Pandora box that unleashed the repressed Id of the alpha male and females. And so like a Phoenix, the grey-back Gorilla was reborn from the ashes.

Feminism in its essence a liberal-capitalist revolution. Like the English, Dutch, American, French, 1848, revolutions it is about establishing market contractual relations, where tradition and domination had once ruled. Now all those revolutions have been blurred to the extent that some people consider them anti-liberal democratic. And it is true in all those revolutions radicals, Levelers, Seadogs, Whiskey Rebellions, and Jacobins emerged that wanted to take the revolution beyond the liberal market. This is the role that the Radical Feminists of Catherine McKinnon and Andrea Dworkin played in the feminist revolution. The feminist porn wars was their Whiskey Rebellion against the liberals. The libertarian feminists grew worried about the monster they had unleashed and were willing to join forces with Hugh Hefner against the more dangerous threat to their left. To use Murray Rothbard’s left-right spectrum from Prospects for Liberty. The libertarian sex positive feminists were the
REAL left. They were the ones who opposed the traditional patriarchal structure of the Right. In Rothbard’s terms the radical feminists who are conventionally considered extreme left, would actually be a confused centrist middle of the road position, that attempted to accomplish liberal ends using conservative ends. They themselves recognized it to the extent that they allied themselves with the Religious Right in the Porn Wars.

With the defeat of the Radicals in the Porn Wars, the libertine capitalist free-market was established in sexual relations. According to Roissy this has benefited Alpha males the most. There is a tacit libertarian feminist/ alpha male alliance against BOTH beta males AND the possible revived corpse of radical feminism.

Minus a couple of quibbles, this is a pretty good stab at a philosophical strain of Roissyanism. Feminism is, in essence, an alliance of convenience between women and alpha males. Women get to play the field longer and more hypergamously, and alpha males get access to more free premarital pussy. (Not that I’m complaining!) Beta males get the short end of the stick. Arguably, beta females also suffer a degradation in their market value — while pump and dumps with men normally out of their league temporarily validate their egos and inflate their self-worth, their psyches eventually wither under the continual churn of their pussies riding the cock carousel, an amusement ride which never slows down to give them the love most women deeply crave. So beta females suffer a double hit: once, to their feminine integrity, and again to their value on the open market where sluts are justifiably less valued as long term partners by men.

***

Greatbooksformen (the lolz dude) offers as good an explanation as any I’ve heard for why women are prone to exaggerate their looks:

lozzllzlzlzlzlzl!

most 3s think they are 9s because now and then an alpha gets drunk and bored and bangs the shit out of them lzozllzlzlzlzlzlzl

she sounds like a 2 who got banged by 7 drunk alphas so she reasons that 2 + 7 = 9.

***

And finally, the Comment Winner of the Month is Gotzon, who sums up the mechanics of male-female relations as succinctly as possible:

My mom proposed to my dad. My dad never changed a diaper.

What feminists will never understand is that Gotzon’s mom is likely a very happy and satisfied woman.

Filed under: Comment Winners

Commenter Jcut wrote:

Roissy, I almost vomited watching this video today:

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/eve_ensler_embrace_your_inner_girl.html

Let us all be aware our sinister enemies who lurk about, skulking in the distance.

Are feminist calls to embrace our inner girl just a giant, society-wide shit test to brand the betas with a big red B so they can be more easily identified, and thus sexually ostracized? Because any man who takes up the call to “embrace his inner girl” will disqualify himself as a sexual interest to not only normal, healthy women, but to feminists as well.

Speaking of ultimate shit tests, here’s one I had the pleasure of receiving recently:

“Could you do me a favor and hold my drink for me while I call my friend?”

The worst shit tests are never the obvious ones; they are sneaky like thieves in the night, pickpocketing your balls without you even realizing it. Beware the “could you do me a favor” expression. It is designed to entrap even the most vigilant men. It will require an absolutely rock solid belief in your value as a high quality man to resist the temptation to answer the siren call of “do me a favor”. After all, a man would have to be a low down dirty scoundrel to not do a favor for a girl, right?

Now that she’s breached your defenses by asking for a favor, she can land the killing blow to your balls with the beta bait request. I don’t care how sweetly she asks or how harmless you think your accommodation, DO NOT EVER hold a girl’s drink for her on the first night you meet her. The act of holding her drink so she can make a call/go to the bathroom/rifle through her purse for lipstick, no matter the innocent intentions behind the asking of it, will register in her hindbrain as the humiliating posture of a beta chump. She may consciously respect your chivalry, but underneath, her id is playing word association by scratching your name next to a picture of a tiny, limp dick on the walls of her nerve center.

Remember, the worst/best shit tests are those that FOOL THE GIRL herself. If she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, how will *you* know when she’s weighing your stones? The “hold my drink” shit test frequently falls into this category of “subliminal but deadly”. She may honestly need you to hold her drink. But you still shouldn’t do it.

So how to respond to the SBD shit test? I’ve found that edgy humor works well.

“Whoa, it’s usually a good idea to wait until the second date before asking a guy to be your personal assistant.”

A cool girl will laugh at this and find a place to put down her drink, or forget about calling her friend to focus on talking with you. An uncool girl will make a face, or double down on asking you to hold her drink. Don’t break. Hold your ground. Capitulating to a shit test is bad enough; capitulating to a shit test you had called out is worse.

Luckily, most girls know better than to ask a man who isn’t a boyfriend to hold a drink. And of those girls who don’t know better, and who give you grief for not cooperating, well… why would you want to be with a bitch like that?

Filed under: Beta, Culture, Game, Ugly Truths

The Democratic National Committee this morning released this clip of the president rallying the troops, if rather coolly, for 2010. Obama’s express goal: “reconnecting” with the voters who voted for the first time in 2008, but who may not plan to vote in the lower-profile Congressional elections this year.

Obama speaks with unusual demographic frankness about his coalition in his appeal to “young people, African-Americans, Latinos, and women who powered our victory in 2008 [to] stand together once again.”

We have crossed the threshold where our presidents don the head garb of tribal warlords, and don’t even bother extending the courtesy of lying to us anymore about their allegiances.

PS If it’s a tribal war they want, it’s a tribal war they’ll get.

PPS Libertarians are stoopid.

PPPS Build a wall. And shoot the fuckers trying to climb over it.

Filed under: Goodbye America

For those who are interested in a syncretism of competing sex ratio theories (an elite audience, I’m sure), Jason Malloy sent me an email responding to my ‘Sausage Fest‘ post, and responding indirectly to Peter Frost whose quote I used in that post:

Roissy,

Hey, I just came across your sex ratio post from several weeks ago. I’m surprised I missed it at the time, because I read fairly often.

Just to clarify a few issues:

A common misunderstanding which I kept addressing on Dr. Frost’s blog was that I was claiming that women have some absolute preference for Dads over Cads. This was not my argument. My argument was that: “Females are never as promiscuous as men (as a group) prefer, therefore when male scarcity puts females at a sexual market disadvantage, females give in to male sexual pressures more easily.” And this innate differential preference is the ultimate basis for sex ratio dynamics.

Peter Frost’s claim that I “ignored”  some crucial wisdom from Guttentag & Secord isn’t true. I left numerous comments on his blog explaining to him why Guttentag & Secord’s social constructivist understandings about sex differences were wrong. Frost is suggesting that, sans social pressures, women are just as oriented towards low investment mating as men. This is wrong. Sex ratio dynamics are based on biological differences between men and women, not on gender politics. The wider society will likely never be as libertarian towards women’s sexuality as a college campus, but even there we see that more women = more male “misbehavior”; because even on college campuses men want lower investment sex than women: ”Think of it as a game of chicken that men will always win. In an environment where women are ok with one night stands, men will push for the glory hole.”

I realize your primary interest is in how gender dynamics shift with male quality, but on this issue I don’t think I’m missing much. e.g. The number of top quality males increases on a male-biased campus, but female promiscuity still decreases. There are, no doubt, many hidden dynamics to sex ratio, but they don’t seem to monkey wrench the general predictions.

Jason

Sounds intuitively correct to me. What I’ve witnessed in social venues where the sex ratio is skewed in favor of women: when men outnumber women, the women set the terms of the courtship, and this is true regardless of the number of alpha males in attendance. They flit about soaking in the attention of all the male suitors, act bitchier, and play harder to get. Shit tests are locked at maximum deflection. The men are more animated and become agitated toward the end of the night, which sometimes spills over into (literally) pushing and shoving the male competition aside, and getting blotto once they realize the odds will not work in their favor.

Of course, more alpha males is always better than fewer alpha males from a women’s perspective, because alpha male attention is almost as good as alpha male sex (though not as good as alpha male love). In fact, for most women, alpha male attention is better than beta male sex and love. So while women may be less promiscuous in male-skewed environments, they are going home happier in their chasteness if the male attention they lapped up came from higher quality men.

In contrast, those heavenly times when the women outnumbered the men, pickup up could not not have been easier. I sometimes had women approach me.

It’s like shopping for a TV in a store that has an abundance of TV choice. You might very well walk out of there empty-handed because you figure you can afford to take your time deciding which brand best suits you, and that there are so many brands there’s bound to be an even better value in there next week.

The part where sex ratio dynamics gets interesting is what influence it has on rates of male violence. As I mentioned in my previous post on this subject, when I’ve been in bars that skewed male the drunkenness and rowdiness hit a fever pitch. Male friendships temporarily sundered when a target was in sight: hos before bros. It’s sad watching a bunch of angry dudes squabble over the few remaining fat chicks at garbage hour. I suppose it helps in sex ratio discussions to define what we mean by male “misbehavior”. Maybe it should be divided into two categories: male violence and male caddishness. They overlap, but they aren’t synonymous. This accounts for the observation in some contexts that more men = more male agitation but not more male caddishness, whereas more women = more male caddishness but less silverback posturing and fighting over the abundance of women.

A lot of what I write about on this diaryetic outpost is based on personal experience, and only second-hand do the forces of science get summoned when I feel like putting in the extra work to buttress my steely-eyed observations of reality. If you want (mostly) hard science and bursts of numerical flavor, GNXP is a good place to go.

In general, I find that about 80% of what I observe in real life is eventually corroborated by scientific evidence. The remaining 20% left with question marks can be explained either by experiences peculiar to some subset of my life circumstances, or idiosyncratic personal observations insufficiently examined by science. My belief is that most people go through life lying to others, and to a lesser extent to themselves, about 90% of the nature of reality. Everything from the finality of death, to the horrors of aging, to the pitiless churning of the sexual market, to the true costs and benefits of human diversity is sheathed in a velvet scabbard of pretty lies. Pessimists would argue the excalibur of truth-examination is best left sheathed, for some truths bring nothing but distress. Optimists would argue the sword is a figment of negative minds, a weapon of the haves to dispirit the have-nots. Chaotics such as yours truly revel in the paroxysms the unsheathing of the sword causes those who stumble into the id monster’s lair.

It is possible to make it to the endgame having avoided the worst travails while refusing to acknowledge 90% of reality, as long as you don’t act in accordance with your stated beliefs. For example, a fat woman looking for love may console herself without consequence that it’s what’s on the inside that counts as long as she pays the lie to her beliefs by dieting and exercising. Her hypocrisy, from her point of view, is win-win — her psyche is soothed by her lies while her love life is invigorated by her sexier body. Similarly, a single mom anxious for love can tell herself she is choosier than her single female counterparts without bastard baggage, but when the quality of suitors willing to commit to her and her child by another man predictably degrades she will ignore her little lies and act like a woman with fewer options, smartly offering more concessions in the zero-sum race to settle for Mr. Better Than Nothing. If, however, she insists on living by her lies she will likely spend the rest of her dreary years half-nourished by a child’s love instead of fully nourished by the added romantic love of a male partner.

Despite evidence of hypocrites acting in ways contrary to their lies and in accordance with the reality of the mating market, in the double helical arena of all against all, it is those who acknowledge more of reality who will win out over those who acknowledge less of reality. Hypocrisy costs mental energy, and when incentivized enough and fully internalized can lead to bad decisions. The few who can look the chaos in the eye and not flinch will best those whose ego-assuaging lies act to divert them from the path of personal happiness. A downwardly spiraling feedback loop can result when hypocrisy is allowed to run rampant, as one bad decision after another coaxes ever more contorted pretty lies to stave off the chilling self-realization that creeps up in the deep black of night when solitude enshrouds.

There is one truth that will always be heard. The shiver down the back of your neck late at night never lies.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Pretty Lies, Ugly Truths

Reader Camron emailed:

I’ve dated lots of women and one common thread I’ve noticed is around the 1st or 2nd date, about 3/4 into the date, if you haven’t said anything for a minute the woman will ask “What are you thinking?”

Obviously I’m thinking about how awesome it would be to take her home and have sex with her, but my usually response is “Oh nothing,” and I changed the subject.

I usually end up sleeping with said woman, but I kinda feel like I’m slipping up at this moment. What should I say to that question? Should I tell her the truth? Should I move in closer at that moment and kiss her?

I get a lot of similar emails asking for advice along the lines of “What should I say when Girl says X?”, where X usually describes some innocuous question the girl asked or some kind of wholly typical shit test she’s tossing out. The answer I give is almost always the same: stop taking her so seriously.

If men could only learn and apply one rule of game it would be this: Don’t take her seriously. So much suffering of the heart could be avoided by following this one simple rule.

When a woman asks “What are you thinking?” your first, knee-jerk instinct should be to respond with something funny, silly, or evasive.

“What are you thinking?”

“If it’d be better to be reborn as a cat or a dog.”

Stop worrying about answering women’s questions directly. Playfully annoy them instead. Annoyance is great foreplay.

Better still, don’t answer with words at all. Let your kisses and gropes do the talking.

As for this reader’s specific scenario, the supersexed Don Juan strategy can work if the context is favorable. Have you gamed her to the point where she is throwing out lots of IOIs? Do her eyes sparkle with sex? Then, yes, lean into her ear and whisper that you’re thinking of ripping her clothes off so angrily that the buttons pop, and throwing her over the back of the sofa to fuck her like a wild animal in heat. But if you’re on the first date and kino has been mild, you may want to wait until you’ve at least kissed her before unleashing your inner crotch tyrant.

Truth is, most of the time the context will not allow you to run sex animal direct game. Save the raunch-talk for the bedroom if you’re in doubt about the suitability of the moment. Kissing a girl in response to an apparently banal question can be a good tactic if the mood is right.

There is a fine line of distinction between telling a girl your intentions and acting with intention. Sure, it’s a bold move to walk up to girls and, within five minutes of meeting, announce with great gusto that you want to fuck them, but that is the sort of boldness that’ll sooner get you shot than bring you battlefield victory. Your very low but time and energy efficient success rate will hardly compensate for the number of strikeouts you’ll have to endure. In contrast, *acting* with intention is very attractive to women. Your nonverbal communication (a big part of game) should be speaking what your tongue will hold. So while the reader might think that verbally expressing his honest desire is the winning move, more often than not it’s better to play a game of ambiguity and innuendo, and carry yourself with the swagger of a man who is thinking exactly what she thinks he’s thinking.

Filed under: Game, Girls