Author: Chateau

Reader GdI wrote in the comments to yesterday’s post:

All very interesting but I miss Roissy, whose near-daily offerings were that rarest of things online: unique. Funny, pithy, deeply irreverent, yet also profoundly based on a coherent and totally counterrevolutionary (and utterly reality-based) worldview. As Ken Tynan said, “Write heresy, pure heresy …” And so it was.

Occasional forays into paleo-punk politics and HBD-istan are are well and good, but Citizen Renegade ain’t doing it. This Roissy-lite-by-committee thing ain’t working.

Bring back The Dark Lord!

I see his point. This blog has been missing satan’s spittle lately. Henceforth, the dude who’s been writing the mid-week posts has been reassigned temporarily to Vladivostok. Now let’s get down to business.

Got mistress? If your woman finds a pair of earrings in your bedroom that aren’t hers, simply tell her:

“I was doing some spring cleaning and I found those. I figured they were yours.”

This is an impenetrable defense. The phrasing leads her to think the earrings are from a girl many years ago. You get the double plus goodness of insta-absolution plus the resume booster of female preselection.

Real Men of Genius called; they want this blog’s knowledge.

***

There’s this scene in “Death at a Funeral” that involves Uncle Russell, Norman, a toilet, a hand, and a runny shit deflected mid-expulsion. When I think of marriage, this is the scene that comes to mind — trapped under the maelstrom of an agitated anus. And yet, despite my words of warning, some of you will be damnfool enough to go ahead and get married.

Ok, then, if you want to march into the iron maiden with a dopey grin on your face, at least nudge the very bad odds slightly in your favor.

Rule #1 for men who insist on marrying the pussy they’ve been getting for free:

Make her propose first.

Yeah, this won’t be easy. How many women do you know who proposed marriage to their recalcitrant boyfriends? I know one. ONE. But that one gives all men hope, for where there is one, there can be many.

What’s the big deal about getting her to propose, you ask? Oh man, you have no idea how much misery you’d be saving yourself. Every time there’s an argument, and wifey is tempted to play that favorable divorce card with all the gatling guns of the misandrist industrial complex pointed squarely between your eyes, she’ll remember that time she dropped to one knee to ask — or more likely to beg for — *your* hand in marriage, and her rationalization hamster will whisper in her brain that the argument must have been her fault, because why on earth would she have proposed to an annoying loser? No, it must be that there’s something wrong with her, not you.

When a woman proposes, it is she who invests in the marriage. She becomes the chaser instead of the chased. It is her ego on the line; her judgement. A woman in this psychological lockbox will be a lot more apprehensive about walking away from the marriage. She will autonomically defer always and forever to the premise that all bitter arguments and all traveling tingles must be unfair to her husband somehow. After all, she proposed marriage to a WINNER. What girl in her right mind would propose to a chump?

Unfortunately, steering a girl to do the humiliating work of proposing is not easy. She has to be head over heels in love, for one thing. And she has to feel acutely the dread of loss. Hints at marriage won’t cut it. She has to say the words “Will you marry me?”. Variations such as “Let’s get married” or “I feel we should be married” are acceptable.

Only masters of the game should attempt the parallel universe proposal. Newbs will get dumped.

***

Need a quickie conversation boosting routine? Tell a chick you’re thinking about getting a dog. Then segue… smoothly, like a single malt… into an observation about how people’s dogs match their personalities. Tell her she looks like the type who would own a jack russell terrier. When she asks why, you say “Oh, you know, always jumpy, kinda funny in an accidental way, and full of energy.” (When negging a chick hard, Uzi style, you’ll want to pair two negative connotations with one positive connotation. You want to deflate her bloated ego, not crush it into a powder that can be snorted.)

This is a powerful neg that serves the dual purpose of giving you reams of conversational material so you don’t run into the dreaded wall of awkward silence.

The hotter she is, the gayer/nastier/goofier the dog to which you will compare her. If she’s a 9, tell her she’s a chinese crested kind of girl. If she’s a 10, she’s the type to own a fat, farting basset hound. Save the noble dogs like german shepherds for the 7s and below. If a hot chick gives you a hard time about being compared to the personality of an incontinent chihuahua, accuse her of ignoring the beautiful parts of a chihuahua’s personality, like its fierce loyalty and big dog syndrome. She will start to feel bad for being mean to chihuahuas. Pat her hand as she reconsiders her malevolence.

***

Chicks who read comic books are slutty. They will bang on the first night. Don’t ask me why this is, it just is.

***

If you haven’t touched a girl on the forearm within ten minutes of meeting her, disengage. Your pickup is toast. If you haven’t touched a girl on the thigh within thirty minutes of meeting her, cut your losses and start fresh with a new girl.

Let me explain. In every one of my successful pickups, sensual touching occurred sometime within the first half hour. If you find yourself talking to a girl for longer than ten minutes without any touching taking place, you are perched over the LJBF abyss. Her erotic charge has been drained to less than 50%. And don’t be fooled by her smiling and laughing along with your witticisms and cutesy quips. Her lips may be curled in a smile, but her untouched body is withering into a cloistered nunnery of pussy dust.

Kino is king. Escalation is eminent. Zap these golden maxims into your wet head ham.

***

You can catch a lot of pretend-pious SWPL chicks off guard with this simple line:

“So how are you helping the environment for earth day?”

If she’s a status-jockeying hipster, expect a glorious apologia of defensive posturing. And where are tingles birthed? In the defensive crouch, of course!

If she’s Dana, expect her to laugh in your face. Then grab her and give her a deep, penetrating kiss. Sneak in a little tongue.

Filed under: Game, Guy Rules, Marriage Is For Chumps, The Id Monster

A couple of years ago two neuroscientists wrote a book about a supposedly little-studied extinct group of humans whose bones were found in South Africa. A very large skull with child-like facial features was discovered, and the skeleton was dubbed “Boskop Man”.

The scientific community of South Africa was small, and before long the skull came to the attention of S. H. Haughton, one of the country’s few formally trained paleontologists. He reported his findings at a 1915 meeting of the Royal Society of South Africa. “The cranial capacity must have been very large,” he said, and “calculation by the method of Broca gives a minimum figure of 1,832 cc [cubic centimeters] .” The Boskop skull, it would seem, housed a brain perhaps 25 percent or more larger than our own.

[…]

Might the very large Boskop skull be an aberration? Might it have been caused by hydrocephalus or some other disease? These questions were quickly preempted by new discoveries of more of these skulls.

As if the Boskop story were not already strange enough, the accumulation of additional remains revealed another bizarre feature: These people had small, childlike faces. Physical anthropologists use the term pedomorphosis to describe the retention of juvenile features into adulthood. This phenomenon is sometimes used to explain rapid evolutionary changes. For example, certain amphibians retain fishlike gills even when fully mature and past their water-inhabiting period. Humans are said by some to be pedomorphic compared with other primates.Our facial structure bears some resemblance to that of an immature ape. Boskop’s appearance may be described in terms of this trait. A typical current European adult, for instance, has a face that takes up roughly one-third of his overall cranium size. Boskop has a face that takes up only about one-fifth of his cranium size, closer to the proportions of a child. Examination of individual bones confirmed that the nose, cheeks, and jaw were all childlike.

An extinct race of humans much smarter than us? Possibly killed off by their less evolved, savage human neighbors? Curious, I did a web search on the Boskops and found a debunking of sorts of the book by John Hawks.

That is pretty much where matters have stood ever since. “Boskopoid” is used only in this historical sense; it is has not been an active unit of analysis since the 1950’s. By 1963, Brothwell could claim that Boskop itself was nothing more than a large skull of Khoisan type, leaving the concept of a “Boskop race” far behind.

Today, skeletal remains from South African LSA are generally believed to be ancestral to historic peoples in the region, including the Khoikhoi and San. The ancient people did not mysteriously disappear: they are still with us! The artistic legacy of the ancient peoples, clearly evidenced in rock art, is impressive but no more so than that of the European Upper Paleolithic or that of indigenous Australians.

And their brains were not all that big. Boskop itself is a large skull, but it is a clear standout in the sample of ancient South African crania; other males range from 1350 to 1600 ml (these are documented by Henneberg and Steyn 1993). That is around the same as Upper Paleolithic Europeans and pre-Neolithic Chinese. LSA South Africans fit in with their contemporaries around the world.

To be sure, there has been a reduction in the average brain size in South Africa during the last 10,000 years, and there have been parallel reductions in Europe and China — pretty much everywhere we have decent samples of skeletons, it looks like brains have been shrinking. This is something I’ve done quite a bit of research on, and will continue to do so, because it’s interesting. But it is hardly a sign that ancient humans had mysterious mental powers — it is probably a matter of energetic efficiency (brains are expensive), developmental time (brains take a long time to mature) and diet (brains require high protein and fat consumption, less and less available to Holocene populations).

OK, so Boskop Man is not a separate human lineage. But at least one sample did have a very big skull. (According to the authors of the book, numerous other skeletons with oversized skulls were found in the dig area.) Was it then possible that a small tribe of very smart ancients in South Africa once existed? Did they suffer from a disease? Or were they just exceptional individuals on the upper end of skull sizes for their time?

Hawks mentions the fact that brains have been shrinking over time across the world. I have also read that Neandertals had larger brain volumes than modern humans. These leads to all sorts of depressing conjecture. Is it possible we are getting stupider? Our cultural achievements would suggest otherwise, but maybe Neandertals would have accomplished even greater intellectual feats than modern humans had they been born during a time with a supportive industrial infrastructure.

And is there an upper limit on just how smart humans can get? As brain volumes grow, women’s pelvises must grow wider in proportion, otherwise more big-brained infants die during childbirth. But very wide-hipped women would have trouble walking or running, not to mention they would look sexually grotesque to men searching for a mate. Northeast Asians and Ashkenazi Jews are known to have the highest average IQs in the world. Do their women have correspondingly greater than average hip widths to accommodate all those big brained babies?

Because of this inherent pelvic width limitation, there may be (anti)evolutionary forces at work that select against smarter babies. The direction of evolution is not necessarily one of progress; it is, instead, in the direction of survival and replication. Which is not synonymous with ever-expanding intelligence. A sobering thought that we could just as easily devolve backward to a more aggressive distant ancestor archetype than evolve forward into bulbous headed little grey men. Not to say that there couldn’t be ways around the pelvic trap. If the selection forces for smarts are strong enough (and in a cognitively demanding society like ours the evidence for smarts selection has disappeared under the lower fertility rate of educated women), then perhaps Darwinian expedience will jerry-rig a system to ensure our brains can continue growing larger. Maybe by moving most of the skull and brain growth post-natally, or rewiring the neurons to become more efficient.

Anyhow, it’s amusing to wonder if there was an ancient human population much smarter than our own who were killed off by the envious and aggressive idiocrats in their midst at the time. Is that what happened to the Neandertals?

Filed under: Hope and Change

What is it with left wingers and their sick compulsion to denigrate everything that is good about their countries? I’d hate to think it’s something as banal as snooty status jockeying to distance themselves from the lesser patriotic proles, but that’s probably it.

Hey, Clegg, while you’re feeling bad for the Nazis maybe you could spare a moment to feel bad for the London subway bombers? There’s a good chap.

Filed under: Globalization, Goodbye America

I was with a girl shopping for assorted consumerist baubles. Technically, she was shopping and I was providing color commentary. A man must learn to amuse himself to pull through these dreaded moments. In the middle of a well-delivered quip, I noticed from the most distant corner of my eye a familiar jeans-covered ass. I studied the ass for a bit and the flow of hair down the back and realized it was one of my exes. She turned around and confirmed for me it was her.

She didn’t see me. I studied her for a bit. The three years were not kind to her. Her body was still great but her face looked drawn, eyes sad, and was that an incipient turkey gullet? When I dated her she was a solid 8, and sexy as hell. Now? A 7. Barely. In just three years she dropped a full point. I wondered if she had gone through an emotionally draining divorce in the time since I’d known her. She was at the store alone on a day in which most women are shopping with their partners.

My time spent with her had been good. I held no ill will toward her. We departed not as exes, but as former lovers, blessedly free of bitterness or rancor. And yet, when I saw my ex there in the store, and mentally noted that the girl I was with was better looking than her, a sadistic urge to flaunt my latest lover and parade her past my ex like a trophy float overcame me. I maneuvered myself and my female company into visual range of my ex. I made sure not to look over. I wanted the bump in to feel natural.

As I maneuvered closer to my ex through the aisles of clothes and kitchenware, I placed my hands lovingly on various erogenous zones of my companion’s body. All while pretending not to notice my ex. I slid my hand down my lover’s back, played with her hair, and made sure to tell a joke so that she giggled girlishly within earshot of my ex. Unfortunately, my ex didn’t notice. Either she was captivated by the 40% sale on hand towels, or she was expertly avoiding acknowledging my presence. I doubted the latter, because usually even the best actresses cannot hold it together with zen-like calm and serenity when bumping into an ex who left such an indelible impression on them. They give away their true feelings with a nearly imperceptible quiver in the shoulders, or a nervous dart of the eyes.

Had she forgotten me? Not possible. We dated too many months, and I… did things… with her that assured a memorial to me would forever be etched in her brain, like a Vietnam Lovers Memorial of sex acts. Or maybe she didn’t recognize me? I *was* wearing a hat, crisply turned down along the front brim.

Nevertheless, no matter how much I maneuvered, I couldn’t needle my ex with my profound pettiness. She remained steadfastly unaware of my presence, flitting about the store like a hummingbird. What a wasted opportunity for a deliciously ego-massaging bump in.

I told my girl about my ex being alone in the store, and how I was trying to get the ex to see us. I also told her she was hotter than my ex. Instead of chastising me for my immaturity, her eyes lit up with conspiratorial glee and she offered a strategy.

“Ooh, I’m curious. Which one is she? Let’s walk by her and I’ll stick my ass out for you to smack. Yay!”

God bless women. Just when you are about to resign yourself to the thought that they are made of nothing but sugar and spice and everything nice, you are reminded of the arsenic laced within.

We left the store mission unaccomplished. I pondered for a second why I relished the thought of rubbing my happiness in the face of a sad, possibly single ex for whom I had nothing but warm feelings. I had released the id monster from its hindbrain depths, and danced a little jig with it.

I guess it just feels too good. And I’ve no doubt she would’ve done the same had the shoe been on the other foot. Any woman would’ve done the same. But don’t bother asking them. They’ll deny deny deny. They’ve got an image to burnish, you see.

Note: As with many of my posts, the chronology of this post has been altered to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

Filed under: The Id Monster

Randall Parker forwarded me a link to a study about abundance of mate choice affecting the quality of the choice.

Quantity may determine quality when choosing romantic partners

The context in which humans meet potential mates has a hidden influence on who they decide to pursue. In particular, when people have a large number of potential dating partners to select among, they respond by paying attention to different types of characteristics – discarding attributes such as education, smoking status, and occupation in favor of physical characteristics such as height and weight.

A number of studies in recent years have looked at what happens to humans when faced with extensive choice – too many kinds of chocolate, or too many detergents to choose from at the grocery store. Under such circumstances, consumer psychologists believe that the brain may become “overwhelmed,” potentially leading to poorer quality choice or choice deferral. Psychological scientist Alison Lenton, of the University of Edinburgh, and economist Marco Francesconi, of the University of Essex, wanted to know if the same was true of mate choice, given that humans have been practicing this particular choice for millennia. “Is having too many mate options really like having too many jams?” they ask. The study is published in Psychological Science, a journal of the Association for Psychological Science.

To find out how people respond to relatively limited versus extensive mate choice, Lenton and Francesconi analyzed data from 84 speed dating events, which is where people meet with a series of potential dates for three minutes each. Afterward, the men and women report their choices (a “yes” or “no” for each person). It should surprise no one that choosers generally preferred people who were taller, younger, and well-educated. Women also preferred partners who weren’t too skinny, and men preferred women who weren’t overweight. Beyond that, though, the attributes that speed daters paid attention to depended on how many opposite-sex speed daters attended the event.

At bigger speed dating events, with 24 or more dates, both male and female choosers were more likely to decide based on attributes that could be judged quickly, such as their dates’ height, and whether they were underweight, normal weight, or overweight. At smaller events, choosers were more likely to make decisions based on attributes that take longer to identify and evaluate, such as their dates’ level of education, their type of job, and whether or not the person smokes.

“Obviously, I think we look for different attributes in partners than what we look for in a chocolate, a jam or a 401(k) plan,” says Lenton. “But one of the points we’re trying to make in this article is it’s the same brain we’re carrying around. There are constraints on what our brains can do – they’re quite powerful, but they can’t pay attention to everything at once.” And if the brain is faced with abundant choice, even about who to go out with, it may make decisions based on what it can evaluate most quickly. As a result, this previously invisible aspect of the choice environment has the potential to determine one’s romantic fate.

The consumerists’ quandary. I’m surprised this phenomenon hasn’t been discussed more by game instructors. It would seem logical that the number of girls as well as the number of men in a pickup environment would have an effect on how we choose mates and how we ourselves are perceived as mates. How many times have you stood in front of a huge aisle displaying 62 varieties of vitamins and just said “fuck it” and grabbed the cheapest, or the nearest, brand? If “choice deferral” or choice constriction happens with vitamin brands, then it could conceivably happen with girl brands.

So what are the take-home points from this study? What should we men, always on the lookout for a quicker route to getting laid and loved, learn from the study’s conclusions?

1. In groups that have a lot of men, (for example, clubs and bars on busy nights), women will evaluate your mate potential on “superficial” (i.e. readily discernible) qualities like height and looks.
2. A corollary to number 1 is that in venues where there is a lot of male competition for the women to choose among, and you are average or below in superficial traits, you will not get many chances to run game on the girls.
3. In groups of few people, (for example, book clubs or painting classes), women will evaluate your potential as a partner on more “meaningful” qualities that can only be discovered during the course of lengthier conversations.
4. A corollary to number 3 is that women will be more likely to grant an average looking man an audition at an event that has few other men from which the women can choose. She will also want to know more about each man she joins in conversation.

If you imagine each woman has a tingle-o-meter that oscillates with varying strength to the proportion of male attractiveness traits present in a man she is talking with, and that also oscillates according to the number of other men in her visual field, then you can visualize how a typical woman will react to you in different environments. If you are great looking and tall, you will get a lot of insta-play from women where large numbers of other men are present. She will be choosing you almost entirely based on your easily perceived high value traits, and will likely be more forgiving of any shortfalls you may have in the less visually oriented suite of male attractiveness traits. So if you’re a broke, uneducated, Johnny Depp lookalike, you’ll want to make nightclubs your venue of choice, and you’ll want to close the deal sooner rather than later, before she has an inclination to dig deeper into your value as a man.

If you are not great looking or tall, then you’ll want to steer clear of venues where there will be a lot of men. You will do best in smaller groups with few men, let’s say bars on a weeknight, where the women will be open to learning more about you, and also likelier to overlook any physical shortcomings you may have. She will be choosing you based on a mixed package of easily perceived physical traits and less obvious high value male traits such as dominance, physical assuredness, humor, and charm/game. So if you have tight game but lack the looks to easily acquire auditions to demonstrate your game, you’ll want to focus on environments with few other men around, like day game or really any venue on a night besides Friday or Saturday night.

Since by definition most men are not in the top 10% of looks and height, it stands to reason that pickup instructors should not be teaching game to newbies in high energy environments like nightclubs. The best place to practice game is any place where a bunch of superficially high value men will not show up to distract the girl.

Some other conclusions we can draw from the study:

• This “choice abundance mentality” by women can be artificially triggered. If you have a lot of guy friends who are worse looking than you, then bring your posse to the local club. Faced with all those men to choose from, the women will naturally gravitate to you as the most superficially appealing man of the group.
• Addendum to the above: your friends can’t be *too* dorky, because then the women will tar you with the same dork brush.
• Also, if one of your less good looking friends has better game than you, and the environment you are in is sufficiently low key that he can run his game undistracted, then he may steal the girls’ attention from you. Good looks on a man are great, but good game is even better.
• If you are very good looking but a so-so conversationalist, you will want to stay away from things like book clubs, where the homelier men with sharp wits will absolutely crush you. I’ve seen it happen. Score one for the smooth talking Voltaires.
• If you are very good looking but have no game, suit up and hit da clubs on a busy night where women can instantly compare your looks to a ton of other men. Physical presence game is all you’ll need. Try to get used to one night stands.
• Homelier men should focus on gaming one or two girls in a night. They need more time to allow their heart light to shine. Theirs is a big stage with lots of props and a multitude of scenes to tell the story. Homelier men must be better at building connections with women, because a strong emotional connection will handily compensate for a weak physical magnetism.
• Good looking men should maximize the number of girls they hit on in a night. They don’t need a lot of time to attract attention. Theirs is a small stage featuring a one-act play and a very large audience all vying to get his autograph after the show. By maximizing the number of targets and compressing time spent with each target into a few minutes, they maximize their chance for a same night lay.
• If you have a sucky job and few ostentatious credentials to wave around, but your game is tight, you’ll want to hit on girls in large venues. The girls will be less likely to grill you on your educational and career background, and more likely to enjoy the spontaneous feelings you evoke in them. In other words, choice abundance means that girls are going to be too distracted to bother figuring out your life story. A confused girl is an easily gamed girl.
• If you have a great job, money, and conventional cred, but your game is weak, you’ll want to hit on girls on slow nights in smaller venues, or day game and insta-date them. Maximize your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. A calm, focused girl is a future time oriented girl who will judge on substance more than flash. (Note: sluts excluded.)
• Where there are a lot of men, you can create the illusion of male scarcity (and thus increase your odds of successfully gaming a girl) by walking away from girls early in a conversation. Always end conversations first, seem needlessly distracted, and make it seem like you are a man who has options, even if technically in a bar with more men than women, you don’t.
• If you are looking for a wife or girlfriend, you may want to shift your base of operations to smaller venues or events where you will be less tempted by choice abundance to invest time gaming the flashiest chicks whose key attribute is how good to go they are.

Apropos the study, only go to speed dating events where the women rotate. You will seem in higher demand than you really are.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Dating, Game, Girls, Guy Rules, Self-aggrandizement, The Big City Life

I’m just gonna throw this out there, reader beware. I know a person with ties to Apple who thinks the leak was probably intentional. Supposedly, it’s unheard of for a top secret prototype technology to leave campus grounds for any reason. So this person doesn’t believe the story that a programmer got drunk at a bar and accidentally left the phone there. Apple sometimes engages in low risk, cost free focus group testing by leaking a model to the geeky internet hordes — in this case Gizmodo via Gawker — to see what could use improvement. Based on the timing of this leak, I was told to expect a 4G release sometime in mid July.

Personally, I’m looking forward to the release of the HTC EVO. True 4G. True dat.

Filed under: Current Events

Another scientific experiment demonstrates that beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. Or, in this case, not even in the blind eye of the beholder. Fat feminists weep bitter tears. Naomi Wolf tosses her useless credentials in the garbage. Beauty is, as I’ve been saying since day 1 on this blog, universal and objective. Men pretty much desire the same shape and weight of women around the world.

The NY0.98WHRTimes has an article about a Dutch psychologist who drove around the country in a van with two female mannequins with adjustable waist to hip ratios. (Hat tip: Cannon’s Canon.) He stopped at the residences of blind men and had them fondle the mannequins with their hands (no walking sticks allowed).

The headless mannequins, which Karremans bought, he told me recently, “on the Dutch version of Craigslist,” have adjustable waists and hips, and the researchers set each body differently, so that one had a waist-to-hip ratio of 0.7 and the other of 0.84. Based on a range of studies of male preferences done by other scientists, Karremans chose the lower ratio as an ideal, a slim yet curvy paragon, at least among Western populations. The higher ratio, by contrast, doesn’t represent obesity, just a fullness that falls close to the average woman’s shape.

The study involved men who had been sightless from birth. The idea was that the bombardment of visual media — of models on billboards and actresses on television and porn stars online — which may be so powerful and even dominant in molding desire, couldn’t have had any direct effect on these men, who emerged from the womb into a congenital dark. Would their tastes in women’s bodies match those of men who could see? How would their preferences reflect on the roles of nature and nurture, on the influence of evolution and the impact of experience, in forming our psyches?

[…] Karremans sent his mannequins around the Netherlands. The blind stood before them; they were told to touch the women, to focus their hands on the waists and hips. The breasts on both figures were the same, in case the men reached too high. The men extended their arms; they ran their hands over the region. Then they scored the attractiveness of the bodies. Karremans had a hunch, he told me, that their ratings wouldn’t match those of the sighted men he used as controls, half of them blindfolded so that they, too, would be judging by feel. It seemed likely, he said, that visual culture would play an overwhelming part in creating the outlines of lust. And though the blind had almost surely grown up hearing attractiveness described, perhaps even in terms of hourglass shapes, it was improbable, he writes in his forthcoming journal paper, that they had heard descriptions amounting to, “The more hourglass shaped, the more attractive,” which would be necessary to favor the curvier mannequin over the figure that was only somewhat less so.

[…] But, with some statistically insignificant variation, the scores of the blind matched those of the sighted. Both groups preferred the more pronounced sweep from waist to hip. One possible explanation emphasizes the sense of smell — though the mannequins wore no perfume. By this line of thinking, certain ratios of hormones and their metabolites in the female body are associated with biological advantage, as well as with particular pheromonal scents and low W.H.R.’s. The male begins life wired, through the influence of evolution, to favor these odors and then learns, mostly through unconscious experience, to connect the cues of smell to the proportions of waist and hip. He makes this connection through sight if he can see and by touch if he can’t.

The case against the “beauty is subjective and therefore perception of it by randy men is malleable; so rejoice!, hope remains that fat feminist craps and aging broads can find love just as easily as hot, slender 21 year old babes” just gets stronger with each experiment. But I’m sure the pretty lie platoon will find a way to dismiss this study. Maybe they’ll accuse men blind since birth of being influenced by patriarchal norms in Braille.

The author of the article throws the obligatory bone to the femdork crowd, but it’s a weak, brittle bone indeed:

The explanation may be more elusive than this simple logic. And the study’s implications about nature and nurture are far from straightforward. Karremans’s findings don’t rule out the sway of culture, not at all. If experience played no role in etching our preferences, there would be scarcely any diversity of lust; we would all be drawn to the same forms.

False inference. There could certainly continue to be “diversity of lust” without experience playing any role. For instance, people may be genetically primed from birth to appreciate better the beauty of others of their own race. Or there may be a hardwired preference for hair color. If the last twenty years of psychosocial research shows us anything, it’s that you’d be on firmer ground biasing hypotheses in favor of the genetic cause of behavior instead of the cultural conditioning cause.

One nuance in the study’s data points to this complexity: sighted and blind men both strongly favored the mannequin with the lower W.H.R., but this slimmer-waisted body received especially high scores from the men with sight, maybe because a life spent amid cultural signals compounds the work of evolution. Still, the gropings of Karremans’s blind offer a glimpse into the ancestral depths of our desires.

Or it could be that touching an optimal 0.7 WHR woman combined with seeing a 0.7 WHR woman produces a positive feedback loop that jacks up the “OMG I’m so horny!” limbic system reflex in men. I like banging in the dark, but when the lights are on and I can see the pussy lips parting in response to my meaty intrusion, the pleasure is magnified. If I was handed a checklist during sex, I’d score my lover higher while under the visual influence of glistening, crimson labia.

It’s really amazing when you stop to think about it that blind men who have never once in their lives seen a female body still rate as most attractive the same 0.7 WHR female body type as do normally sighted men. The inborn biological basis of sexual desire is so fundamental — so resistant to cultural influence — that every sense is brought into play in ensuring that men make the right choice for the propagation of their genes; which, in nearly all cases, is going to result in men choosing the same slender babe archetype when such a choice is possible, no matter where in the world a man lives or how many times his mom embarrassed him in front of his friends when he was a teenager. I’ve no doubt that a blind and deaf man who has lost his hands will compensate with a bloodhound’s nose for sniffing out a 0.7 WHR from twelve parsecs.

This blog post brought to you by Tick Tock, Inc., in collaboration with generous funding from the What Part Of No Fat Chicks Don’t You Understand Foundation.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Hungry Hungry Hippos

Welmer over at The Spearhead put up a short post with accompanying video illustrating in very graphic terms (the best kind of terms) what happens when you couple the feminism-abetted cultural perception of women as vulnerable creatures with women’s opportunistic leveraging of that favorable perception, and reinforce the resulting bitches’ brew with the sledgehammer of the state. The video Welmer helpfully embedded is one of the better metaphors of the informal alliance between runaway state power and the victimization industrial complex that gives the benefit of the doubt in nearly all cases to designated aggrieved groups. What could more aptly clarify this female-PC apparatchik-state alliance than a video of cops planting evidence on a bungling loser as they hogtie him while the appreciative ex-wife oversees the proceedings nearby?

Now no doubt whenever you hear of domestic-related arrests of shady characters like Carlos Ferrel (wanted on a domestic assault warrant unrelated to the action in the video), nine times out of ten the dude is a hellraiser guilty of something. But that doesn’t give the cops the right to abuse the public’s partiality toward them by planting evidence on an unsavory suspect. It starts with a wink and a nod, (almost literally in this video, as the cop doing the planting looks like he smiles at the camera before stuffing Ferrel’s pocket with pot), and ends with a boot and a smashed face. Possibly one day yours.

Nor should our partiality toward the law influence our sympathies so that we always kneejerk align with the supposedly victimized woman. Remember, ten times out of ten in a domestic fracas, the ex-wife or ex-girlfriend chose the asshole perp to be her lover. These women know what they’re getting into. And when they no longer find their badboys useful, they’ll scream victimization, true or not. And the fuzzy-brained white knighters will stampede on cue, their sad, floppy dicks held betwixt index finger and thumb, smooshed into mini-mouthed frowns, pleading for crumbs of pussy gratitude.

You think the ex-wife, when she discovers after watching this video that her ex-husband was railroaded by the cops, will rise up of her own will in his defense? Maybe if he slapped her around a little…

When the state teams up with women, it is game over for the common man. There’s only one way to win at this rigged game…

Don’t play it.

Earthdate: 04.18.2010
Sex life: euphoric
Love life: transcendent
Mood: self-satisfied
Status: still unmarried

PS Isn’t it long overdue that pot should be legal? Just make it illegal for under 21s to buy it like we do with alcohol, throw in a few government sponsored ad campaigns warning against the dangers of toking and driving, and let the adults have some fucking kick back time with a relatively harmless drug. I’ll bet any present or future drug czar good money that ten years after pot is legalized there will continue to be the same proportion of alcohol and cigarette related deaths to pot related deaths as there are today. Personally, I’d legalize crack and meth, too, then eradicate the welfare safety net and let the hardcore addicts and their drug addled spawn die mutated in the streets. In a couple of generations you’d have a healthier, stronger society. Sure, the interim would be a ghastly horror, but it’s not like you really give a shit now. Why aren’t you giving a shit now?

Rhetorical.

PPS Television and its visual communications offshoots have been the greatest anti-eugenic force in human history. Discuss.

Filed under: Culture, Goodbye America, Ugly Truths, Videos

In the last ‘Great Scenes’ post, we watched Cary Grant big facing Katharine Hepburn until she almost passed out from arousal. This time, we take a look at how deftly Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) handles Phyllis Dietrichson’s (Barbara Stanwyck) shit tests (and in the process practically invents film noir).

Phyllis (0:02): My husband! You were anxious to talk to him, weren’t you?

Walter (0:05): Yeah I was, but ah, I’m sort of getting over the idea if you know what I mean.

First shit test passed. She expected him to buckle when she introduced a competitive male threat, as most females are wont to do. (‘Let’s you and him fight’ is a convenient ploy used by women to separate the alpha wheat from the beta chaff.)

Phyllis (0:10): There’s a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. 45 miles an hour.

Walter (0:13): How fast was I going officer?

Pitch perfect. Role playing is catnip to chicks. If you only remember one rule of game, it’s this: Never take her seriously.

Phyllis (0:15): I’d say around 90.

It’s ironic that back in the day when overt sex talk was more culturally censored than it is today, a flirty conversation between a man and woman could contain so much more sexual tension.

Walter (0:17): Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket.

Great working definition of an alpha male: He is the one who has an answer for everything. Also note the subtle de-pedestalization in this line.

Phyllis (0:19): Suppose I let you off with a warning this time.

Walter (0:21): Suppose it doesn’t take.

Notice how Walter is increasing the voltage of his replies. When volleying a swarm of shit tests, you’ll want to get progressively edgier (*not* angrier), following the beat of your prey’s seductive syncopation. Imagine a woman slowly withering under your powerful presence, your magnetic pull getting stronger with each quip, until you deliver the ego killing blow like a Final Fantasy finishing move.

Phyllis (0:23): Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles.

This chick is unstoppable.

Walter (0:26): Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder.

Vulnerability game from a position of strength. Sarcastic bravos!

Phyllis (0:29): Suppose you try putting it on my husband’s shoulder.

“I have a boyfriend”. One thing you’ll notice after you get a lot of experience with women is that they often turn nastiest right before they succumb. It’s as if with one foul push of cuntery they can silence the screaming of the tingles.

Walter (0:32): That tears it.

A beta, once he gets in a groove with a woman, is likely to spin that tune until it’s worn-out. An alpha knows when to cut the action. And when he’s beaten, he doesn’t sulk. Watch Walter as he turns away from Phyllis with a grin on his face. He knows he got to her.

Walter (0:38): Eight-thirty tomorrow evening then.

A question posed as a statement. Commanding.

Phyllis (0:40): That’s what I suggested.

Walter (0:41): You be here too?

Phyllis (0:42): I guess so, I usually am.

Walter (0:44): Same chair, same perfume, same anklet?

The game never stops playing, even when she does. Every word, every glance, every interaction is an opportunity for game. Noticing tiny details of a woman besides her physical features (e.g., anklet) is a powerful tool in the alpha’s arsenal. Translated into womanese, it means “I could notice every detail of your 152 erogenous zones”.

Phyllis (0:46): I wonder if I know what you mean.

Walter (0:49): I wonder if you wonder.

Donned hat, smirk, staredown. This is a man who’s letting her know she didn’t rattle him. Just the opposite, in fact.

Filed under: Game, Videos

Impressive windup: fi’ dolla

Backhand: benjamin

Not even pausing to glower at the chick after slapping her: priceless (Hey, the man was in the middle of a conversation.)

Giving me the opportunity to write “Morgan Freeman, in ‘Pimpslap Redemption’”: priceless infinity

By the way, Morgan Freeman once said in an interview that his role as a pimp in ‘Street Smart’ was his favorite.

Filed under: Alpha, Funny/Lolblogs, Videos

Want to get chicks to show their tits? Well, you could seduce them. Or… you could take the quick and dirty route and blackmail them with a snake, a bird, and Chatroulette.

Gizmodo has the story. One of the commenters tried emotional blackmail game.

So….

In the name of science ;o)

I tried this for about 2 hours last night.

I got a group of girls to freak out [and] show their boobs..
but since it’s a vid clip – the bird got eaten anyways .. then they all freaked out more and one of them started to cry.

8 girls ask[ed] me to save the bird, but then when I told them the price they said “eh.. let it die”

20 girls just clicked next the min they saw the snake/bird.

and a shit load of guys who wanted to see the bird get eaten.

My guess: the girls who freaked out and showed their boobs to save the little bird would fall hard for assholes running vulnerability game. The eight girls who decided, when push came to shove, that bird murder was preferable to flashing their tits are Obama voters. The twenty girls who clicked next right away to leave the bird to its doom are lawyers. The guys are guys — tits, snake eating a bird, it’s all quality entertainment.

Filed under: Funny/Lolblogs

What happens when a woman’s social status leapfrogs her man’s status? Breakups.

In the past dozen years, nearly every woman to win the Academy Award for Best Actress has broken up with her husband, boyfriend or lover — some just months after thanking them from the award show stage.

Status is interesting when applied to women. For women, their status in the sexual market — the fundamental market that underlies all other markets — is locked up in their beauty. Women barter their looks status for high male social status, where male social status loosely defined indicates the man’s ability to provide resources for the woman and any future children. But women can also earn male-centric social and financial status. When a woman jumps up the social status ladder higher than most men, tremors rattle the normally smooth functioning of the dating market. Women with very high social status, regardless of their beauty, perceive themselves “better catches” than they really are. (If the woman is ugly, her self-perceived boost to her image will be smaller than if she is beautiful.) Women loathe dating down with lower status men, so a woman at the pinnacle of social status has, through forces acting upon her beyond her scope of influence or even conscious recognition, locked out a much larger dating pool of men than if she had never risen higher in social status. If she was already in a relationship with a man when her social status climbed above his, the relationship will suffer a buffeting of hypergamous winds that is hardly ameliorated by the fact of their longtime loving commitment.

This is what has happened to those Oscar winning actresses. They rose in status, and their lovers consequently dropped in relative status. Thus putting the brakes on the tingle train.

The line of breakup causality goes both ways. Men are subconsciously aware of the threat to their reproductive success that high female social status brings. This is why men are skittish about dating women with better educational credentials or career prospects. It’s nothing to do with being “scared” or “intimidated” by “strong women”. Men just prefer the pussy path of least resistance, and make calculated decisions which quarry is worth pursuing and which is a waste of time. Men, being the more realistic sex when considering their place in the sexual market, are apt to be better than women at streamlining dating operations for maximum return on investment. This means avoiding women with higher social status than their own, correctly figuring that such women, no matter how superficially enthusiastic about the courtship, will put up a bigger fight before putting out, if ever.

Women don’t want to date down and men don’t want to date women who don’t admire them on some level. Unfortunately, in a relationship where the higher social status woman truly does love her lower status man, (as may have been the case for the Oscar winning actresses in the above article), the tragedy of unintended breakup still occurs, for the lower status man will grow resentful of his fame-riding lover (and with good sociobiological reason) and act in ways which sabotage the love she still feels for him. You may think this is stupid of the man, but generally when we do the bidding of our DNA dictates what’s seemingly stupid for us is the right thing for our genes. At some point in the not too distant future, those loving high status actresses will begin to lash out at their lower status hubbies with the spite of a thousand harridans. Those are the regrettable odds. And who wants to be around for that? Especially with so many cute, lower status waitresses and tattoo artists to happily spelunk?

My advice for men who have a fetish about dating higher social status doctors and Fortune 500 executives and don’t much care about love: Marry them. In the inevitable divorce, you might walk away with more moolah than you brought.

Filed under: Status Is King

Today we’ll accompany an average American, SWPL Six-pack, on his daily routine as he makes an effort to meet a number of attractive women that he sees.

It’s a Saturday. He gets up in the morning, showers, dresses and walks to the Starbucks down the block. While waiting at an intersection for the light to change, he notices an attractive girl standing next to him. He pivots to say something to her.

“I’ve got thirty seconds before the light changes to flirt with you. Ready?”

On the sidewalk in front of the Starbucks, he passes another attractive girl.

“Excuse me. Could you tell me where the nearest Starbucks is?”

In Starbucks, waiting in line, he speaks to the attractive girl standing ahead of him.

“Ever notice how fast the Starbucks barristas work in the morning? They must take a triple shot before their shift.”

Outside, holding his drink, he walks to the post office to drop off a letter. On the sidewalk an attractive girl walks toward him.

“Hi!”

At the post office, an attractive girl puts a letter in the mailbox.

“Be careful, that box sends all love letters to my address.”

Leaving the post office, he walks to a clothing store to make some purchases. On the walk over, nine attractive girls pass by him.

“Hi.”

“Hi!”

“Hi there.”

“Hey.”

“Good morning!”

“Excuse me. Where is the nearest dog grooming shop?”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hello!”

At the store, a girl hovers around the sunglass display.

“You’ll want sunglasses that hide which guys you’re checking out. Don’t worry, you don’t make me self-conscious.”

In the lingerie section, an attractive girl rifles through bras.

“I need to buy something for Mother’s Day. Too frilly?”

Back on the sidewalk, he stops at a street vendor to buy a warm pretzel. An attractive girl is there as well.

“I know this pretzel. I think this guy shops at Costco and marks up 1,000 percent.”

He goes home to get his frisbee. He plans to meet a friend at the local park. On the way home, five more attractive girls ping his visual field.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hi!”

“Hi.”

“Happy Saturday!”

On the walk to the park, two more attractive girls. He pretends to throw the frisbee to them.

“Catch!”

“Catch! Ohh, too slow.”

At the park, he and his friend spend more time ogling the girls than tossing the frisbee. A throw goes astray and lands near the feet of an attractive girl.

“I had my buddy throw it near you on purpose. I’m smooooooth.”

After playing frisbee, he goes to dinner at a local cafe with his friend. An attractive girl serves them.

“I heard the waitresses here are good flirters. Ok, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Dinner ends, and his friend leaves. He goes to Whole Foods to pick up some smelly cheese and grass-fed beef for the week. On the walk to Whole Foods, three attractive girls and one incredibly ugly girl pass him.

“Hi.”

“Hi!”

“Hi.”

*silence*

Loitering in the cheese section, he notices one of his exes is there. He sidles up to an attractive girl rummaging through the assortment of goat cheeses.

“Hey, I just noticed my ex is here. Right over there. I’m going to ask you a favor. Pretend you’re flirting with me so I can make her jealous. I’ll return the favor by flirting back. Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

Back at home, cutting off a hunk of cheese and downloading new Yeah Yeah Yeahs music, he makes plans to hit the local social venue with his buddies. Once arrived, he orders drinks from the attractive girl bartender.

“Don’t think this means we have something going on.”

A few hours socializing and drinking, he has met and spoken with six attractive girls. Walking home later that night, he steps next to an attractive girl at an intersection.

“I like your hat. Very trendy right now.”

He goes home to sleep, a full day behind him.

***

The above did not actually happen. Or, more to the point, it is not an accurate depiction of a day in the life of the typical, average American man who wishes he could meet more women. The number of attractive girls he saw on that Saturday is realistic, but the number of those girls he spoke to is, woefully, not.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t have the wittiest opener, or the smoothest delivery. If you open your mouth and say something as benign as “Hi” to thirty-eight attractive girls on a single Saturday, you will have rocketed yourself ahead of 99% of men who passed by those same girls and said nothing. You would have brought yourself closer to sex with at least one of those girls that wouldn’t have been the case had you walked by them silently, cursing your inaction once the moment evaporated.

Now add in a little game. You’ve just hurdled 99.9% of men who pass by those girls without muttering a word on that typical, “boring” Saturday. Are you beginning to recognize just how powerful this stuff is?

Opportunity is everywhere for those with the eyes to see.

Filed under: Escape, Game, Hope and Change, The Big City Life

Relationships generally follow the same trajectory, despite men and women having contradictory mating goals. The optimal trajectory for each sex differs as such:

For men:

– Meet
– If alpha, seduce. If beta, butter up.
– Sex
– If nothing in common, date for a few weeks
– If something in common, date for a few months
– If falling in love, date for a year
– If willfully ignorant, marry
– Divorce
– Start over, poorer but happily still in demand

For women:

– Be introduced through social circle
– If man alpha, relinquish. If man beta, puppeteer.
– If nothing in common, one date and done
– If something in common, date for a few weeks
– Sex
– If falling in love, dream of marriage
– If smart, marry
– Divorce
– Start over, richer but regrettably older

For every long term relationship, sometime between the six month to one year mark, the woman will angle to get you to marry her. Dumb women will attempt to accomplish this through the injudicious use of ultimatums. Devious women will apply the more sophisticated tools of a covert operation. But nearly all women will want marriage sooner rather than later, and their men will be left wondering why, if the relationship is going so well, such a superfluous notarization as marriage is necessary. Usually, the women win out, because most men are weak when confronting possible loss of reliable pussy access.

If you are a man who can face the marital abyss and not flinch, then at the one year mark you may be put into relationship limbo. This is what it implies — a relationship in a holding pattern with a woman who is slowly withdrawing her affection. She will go to bed without sexytime, make breakfast for herself instead of the both of you like she used to, start complaining that you hog the bed, happily recite a list of her friends who are getting hitched, ceaselessly mutter about your “incompatibility”, bitch that you don’t take the “initiative” (read: “propose”), and generally become a sourpuss around you. This is because women get very, VERY, pissed and bewildered when their prime directive (to get married) is thwarted.

Now, there is a catch. The problem for men is determining whether relegation to relationship limbo is the result of the girlfriend’s infidelity or her marriage denial blues. Unfortunately, the symptoms of either are remarkably similar. A woman who is cheating on you will withdraw sexually, stop being considerate, and bitch you out a lot. A woman who is worried and anxious that you have no intention of marrying her will lash out likewise. Your job, as a man, is to figure out which succubus has possessed her, for the solution to handling either demoness is quite different. A cheating woman will need more alpha from you. A despondent woman will need more signs of commitment from you.

Deciding which dark path she is on is no easy task. Women are evolutionarily optimized to be fantastic, nearly undetectable, liars of things both great and small. And what is the greatest lie of all than the lie to hide the pedigree of a man’s child from him so that he may raise it as his own? Women who were bad at lying about cuckoldry were quickly weeded from the population, either by violence, avoidance, or expulsion. And so Darwinian selection ensured that those women who successfully duped beta mates into raising alpha progeny would need be liars of an exemplary sort.

Thankfully, Darwinian selection also ensured that a humanitarian saint like me would come along one day to give you the tools to help you discover if your woman is a sneak cheat. Namely, if she’s branded with identifiable markings of sluttitude, she is more likely to be a future faithless whore.

If you have convinced yourself beyond a reasonable doubt that your girlfriend is not cheating on you, then you are left with finding a way out of relationship limbo. You could take the path of least resistance and propose marriage. But that is lopping off one’s left nut to spite one’s cock. For a woman who has proven capable of withdrawing affection from her man is a woman who can — and will — do it again, to get what she wants, wedding band or no.

Relationship limbo is a dangerous place to be for men. It can drive the male mind crazy with thoughts of abandonment, or worse. His mind swirls with the concoction of nightmares, and his confidence betrays him at the moment he needs it most. In order to defeat it, you must know yourself first. Do you eventually want to marry? Then decide if she is the one for you, and take the leap into or out of her arms. The purpose of limbo is to incite resentment in you, thus making it a simpler endeavor for the woman to conclude that you are worth leaving. If she is not the one you want to marry, prolonging your time in limbo will only feed your resentment, no matter how mastered your art of aloofness, until it boils over into a dramatic breakup.

If, like me, you fully grasp that marriage serves none of your interests, but you like the girl you are dating and want out of limbo, you have two choices. Either stoically accept that every relationship has an inborn lifecycle, and that marriage is simply a delay tactic to push the lifecycle beyond its natural limits, and allow her to leave to find the man who would give her what she wants. She has already poisoned the well, so what further benefit from the relationship can you realistically extract? Limbo more often than not delivers you to hell than to paradise.

Or, have her fall so deeply in love with you that she betrays her own female edict. A woman truly in love won’t be able to contemplate leaving you without pain shooting through her sternum. She may be sad at times that you haven’t proposed, but her sadness is short-lived as it surrenders continually to her joy.

A woman who has put you in limbo does not love you with abandon. She instead loves you like most women do; with an eye toward the pragmatic. She is attempting to manipulate you, consciously or not, to reach her own ends. A man has two noble goals in life — the pursuit of sexual pleasure, and the winning of a woman’s heart in toto. A man has not lived until a woman has loved him without proviso.

Filed under: Love, Relationships, Sluts

The third most frequent email request I receive from readers is advice for how to date younger women. (The second most common email request is of the type “Hey I was a beta with this girl I like. What could I have done better?”. The first is “Meet me this Thursday.”) I’ve written a few times about tactics for picking up younger women and the proper attitude to have with them, but those posts are buried in the archives, so consider this a refresher.

• Game will obliterate a 5-15 year age gap.

If your game is tight and you’re confident around a girl, you won’t normally have to deal with her objecting to the age gap. Girls simply don’t think logically like that, particularly the younger ones. But occasionally a girl will broach the subject early on, and this will happen particularly if she is not accustomed to dating older men. There are a variety of techniques for handling what I call “teaser objections”. That is, objections which are solicited not to cut off a potential relationship, but to test you for your ability to be comfortable around her, and to thus assuage her concerns being around you.

• Reframe the age gap

If a girl is interested, expect her to ask about your age. She will ask no matter how old you are. As a Jedi of the female condition, you will have answers ready for any objection. It’s best to turn it around on her so that it is you who is qualifying her. You can see examples of qualification lines in action in this post, which can also be delivered as negs. A common thread to reframing the age gap is to insinuate that the girl isn’t mature/sophisticated/worldly enough for you. You can even throw in a line about how older women seem smarter, and most of the younger women you have dated liked to talk about fluffy TV shows. Remember: Gina tingles are birthed in the defensive crouch position. *Squirt!* Always be on the offense.

Another solid technique is to anticipate her objection. Before she asks your age, set the tone by implying early on that she may not have the self-assurance to be in your company. This should be structured as an early stage qualification routine, which I wrote about here. Most girls will bite on this.

• Imply preselection by younger women

Sometimes a girl will ask “So do you usually date younger women?” Be careful, as the answer you think is a winner, is not. You will be tempted to tell her that you always date younger women. But she’s just as likely to interpret that as meaning you are an incorrigible skirt chaser of college coeds. It also sounds try-hard. On the other hand, you certainly don’t want to say she’s your first younger woman. That would raise a red flag as well. Your best answer, as is typical in matters of seduction, should be ambiguous and evasive.

“I’ve dated women of many different ages, younger and older. I don’t limit myself based on an arbitrary number. The connection is what’s most important to me.”

She will be left defenseless to the above line.

• Heed the numbers

Older men (where we define “older” as +10 years) will have to be aware that their pool of available younger prospects will be smaller. One, there are fewer single women after a certain age. (Though this is changing. Thank you feminism!) Two, there will be a percentage of women for whom dating older men is impossible to conceive. However, a countervailing force that works in favor of older men is the fact that there is a significant minority of women who *actively* seek to date older men.

The numbers generally break down like this:

40% of young women won’t date older men.
40% of young women *prefer* dating older men.
20% of young women are neutral about dating older men.

As an older man, you will learn to quickly ascertain which of the younger women you approach are most amenable to dating you. One way to look at it is that the older man has an extra filter to apply to his dealings with women that younger men, for the most part, don’t have to worry about.

• Heed the Top Two Rules

It is more important than ever that the older man refrain from showing even a hint of neediness or insecurity about the age gap. Younger women will be on extra high alert for signs of clinginess from older men, because after a certain age women will expect you to have your alpha shit together. Younger men can’t afford neediness either, but they have a little more wiggle room than older men.

Whatever you do, don’t make a big deal out of the age gap. Act as if it’s perfectly normal that you and her find each other attractive. Doubt is not only the mind killer; it’s also the wet pussy killer.

• Feminine girls tend to be into older men; masculine girls tend to prefer younger men

I’ll toss this one to the evo psychs. It’s true; the pretty, soft, feminine women like dating older men, while the skanky, hard-bodied, manjawed sluts and cougars-in-training get their rocks off bed hopping with younger men. There is a certain beautiful symmetry to this emergent natural order — the older men get the exquisite pleasure of sex and love with younger women while the younger men cut their teeth on older women willing to show them the ropes.

• Broken families are the older seducer’s best friend

The stereotype is true: Girls from broken families love dating older men. Maybe it’s separation anxiety, a latent daddy complex, or a strong desire for a reliable provider instead of a cad. Whatever it is, the daughters of divorce are easier pickings for the older man. If you hear a girl say she hasn’t seen her father in twenty years since mommy kicked him out, you are permitted to do a fist pump when she’s not looking. Again, thank you feminism!

Oh, and this is also true for women raised by much older fathers.

• Dress young

A lot of raging feminists will complain “Men should learn to act and dress their age!” Nevermind what older, bitter, expired women say. When you dress young, you appeal to younger women. But keep two caveats in mind.

One, be in shape. Youthful clothing only fits properly on slim bodies. I like the Hank Moody look — a pared down artsy style of tight black tee under a fitted hipster jacket, coupled with distressed dark jeans and either super swank shoes or scenester sneakers. I top it off with some mild peacocking, like a ring, leather bracelet, sunglasses, and fedora. But a fat guy would look ridiculous in a similar get-up.

Two, women in their late 20s and 30s will appreciate an older man in a sharp suit. If you are at a charity event where a lot of professional women who normally don’t frequent clubs will be in attendance, you will get more attention attired in a suit and projecting an air of authority and sophistication. As with all things fashion, context is king.

Note that youthful clothing is not necessarily synonymous with “trendy fads”. You can dress youthfully without following the latest youth trends. Try to hit the sweet spot where you look young but you don’t look overtly fashion-forward.

• Drop the bumpngrind dance club scene

Unless you are an incredible dancer, don’t bother bump and grinding out there on the dance floor with the rest of the drunk rabble rousers. You’ll feel stupid, and you’ll look stupid too. This doesn’t mean your dancing career is over. Older men can shine in structured dance scenes like salsa or tango. In fact, I have witnessed many an older man swoop younger women using tango game alone.

• Avoid age-restrictive scenes

Don’t take a younger woman out on dates to venues or events that have mostly younger men *or* older men in attendance. At the predominantly young man event, you will stick out like a sore thumb. This will make her self-conscious. At the predominantly older man event, she will stick out like a sore thumb, also making her self-conscious. The last thing you want to do is tempt a younger woman to believe you and her are culturally incompatible. So focus on taking her to mixed-age scenes that you both enjoy. Or skipping the scenes altogether and heading straight for the bedroom.

• Get up to speed on the latest in music and art

No brainer. Younger women want an emotional connection with you just as much as older women do. The easiest way to connect is through shared hobbies and interests. If she spits out the name of a band she loves, it helps if you know what she’s talking about.

• Baldness is bad

50% of men by age 50 have noticeable balding. Either shave it all off, or, if it hasn’t progressed too far, do what a lot of women do when their appearance suffers a hit and “get a little work done”. The worst thing is the monk’s ring. Avoid at all costs.

• Lie

If you know up front that the girl is going to be a short term fling, and she is more than 10-15 years younger than you, it’s sometimes easier to take the path of least resistance and lie. She’ll thank you later after the earth-shattering orgasm. A sneaky way to lie by omission instead of commission is to play the guessing game with her:

GIRL: How old are you?
YOU: Guess.
GIRL: 29?
YOU: Wow, you’re good at this! [Note that you didn’t specify if she guessed correctly.]

• Date foreign girls

Another true stereotype: Foreign girls love dating older men. Bonus: They aren’t fat!

• Target single moms

In some parts of the country you will find a lot of young single moms. If you know you have no interest in a long term arrangement, you can do very well targeting single moms under the age of 30, because single moms are more desperate to be loved by high value men. Let’s face it, most alpha males will not commit to a single mom, or fall in love with them. Why take on another man’s responsibility, either directly or indirectly? And kids are romance killers, snuffing out spontaneity like a load of wet diapers air-dropped on a brush fire. Plus, there’s that whole distended vagina thing. A buddy of mine once remarked that banging a chick who had had three kids was like riding the log flume wearing a suit made out of eels. However, if you want to experience the thrill of no-strings-attached sex with a much younger woman, you have really good odds with single moms.

• Grace under pressure

Older men have it in spades. Or are supposed to. Don’t let anything rattle you. Explosions of testosterone-y hurt and insecurity are the domain of younger men.

• Emphasize a powerful emotional connection

Older men are also supposed to be less awestruck by women’s beauty. One way to communicate this pleasant indifference to her youthful beauty is to discuss her finer qualities, like her surprising intelligence for someone with so little real world experience. Act as if her body is almost invisible to you. Until you get to the bedroom.

• Be the wise man

Older men are wise men. What was the point of all those years if you haven’t converted them to wisdom? Younger women want to experience your wisdom, but there is a wrong way and a right way to demonstrate your superiority over her. Don’t make a show of being a wise person. Don’t finger wag like a supercilious father. Instead, allow your wisdom to percolate naturally, showing itself only when the moment calls for it. Don’t draw attention to it. She will appreciate it even if she doesn’t say so.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Game

South Park explains why.

So I understand Wankroulette is the latest insipid fad. Yes, I truly am missing out on the best of our culture, and then some.

Filed under: Culture, Ridiculousness

Something is afoot in the land. An ossified pall hardens like cement over our Western women. Armies of bony, chiseled, jutting mandibles of maxillofacial transsexuality following in formation behind blitzkrieging boffo chins are mowing down reserves of beauty and femininity.

The horror!

Run for your lives!

It shoots friggin’ laser beams from its chin!

Her jaw is a geometric proof.

Overdeveloped blowjob muscles?

What is happening to our ladies? Their collective femininity is disappearing before our eyes. First come the manjaws, then come the newlywed chicks who sign up for internet cuckold-making services offering endless discreet trysts and humps in the alley behind Wawa. The traditional domain of women — their softness and erotic vulnerability — is yielding to a Grrl Brigade who look like they chew nails for fun. I half expect AskMen’s next Top 100 Babes to sport stubble.

The manjaw plague didn’t happen overnight, though it seems that way. It’s been in the works for a couple of generations now. Reasons abound.

• One word: Plastics. Are endocrine disrupting chemicals in that cherished SWPL standby, the plastic water bottle, masculinizing our women?
• Parabens. Or is it the stuff put into cosmetics? Could women be slavering testosterone boosters onto their cheeks each time the get ready for a night out on the town?
• The Pill. Let’s face it, the pill has been a huge society-wide experiment on women (and men, indirectly), which… interesting…  ramifications are only now coming to light.
• Soft polygamy. What happens when you give women the run of the place? Well, besides voting for socialist diaper changers, you get a bunch of chicks chasing lantern-jawed alpha males and having illegitimate children by them, leading inexorably to future generations of more masculine daughters being raised by ever more feminine beta hubbies.
• A combination of all the above.

On my occasional forays into the ghetto, I recurrently note just how beastly the local girls look. Huge jaws and brows that could sprout Wolverine claws when roused to anger. Maybe this is the end result of a mating market where generations of women have spread for the most violent, thuggish men in the hood. If so, is there a trickle up effect to the rest of society? Are redneck girls getting manlier also? Will the upper classes figuratively and literally barricade themselves from the manjaw invasion, creating not only a cognitive elite but a neotenous elite? I can imagine the pendulum swinging back in time, as legions of red-blooded American men become so turned off by the Lara Croftian trannies in their midst that a price premium is placed on the pixies, nymphs and sprites. Perhaps all this masculinization of our women will render their wombs barren, restricting their ability to contribute to the next generation. Demographic shift happens.

We must return to the old ways before beauty and sublime femininity all but disappear from the land. We must find a way to bring back the dainty, feminine jawline. I’ll do my part by banging only flaky, neurotic waifs who don’t have an ambitious delicate bone in their bodies.

Filed under: Girls, Goodbye America

Email #1 is from mkubuwa:

Hi R.,

Recently came across your blog; in one word…eye-opening! You seem to be a sage in these matters, so I have a girl issue that may just be down your alley of expertise…

I recently saw a girl on the train, a solid 9 if I’ve ever seen one. Problem is I’m not sure exactly how to open her. Trains are notorious for being conversation dead-zones as most people just tune out once they get on. She’s always frowning out of the window (hard day at work?) and sitting too far in the seating row for me to get to without making it obvious.

I could just walk up to her direct but I get the feeling that her defence shields would be up before I could even open my mouth. I’ve thought about giving her a written note “Frowning = Wrinkles. You’d look better with a smile” while getting off at my stop, but the problem is we both get off at the end of the line.

Any thoughts on how to get over this problem? I can handle bar and club openers, but public transport is a first for me. I only see her once in a while on the train, so the next time I see her I’ve got to make it count…

Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Never tell a girl to smile as part of a pickup gambit. This will always backfire on you. It’s not because girls don’t like to be reminded they look dour; no, it’s because girls will rightly perceive such a gambit as a beta attempt to manufacture positive rapport. Never push rapport before its time.

A good opener is what you wrote in your second paragraph. “Do you ever notice how people on trains just tune out once they get on? It’s gotta be the most anti-social environment on earth.” Obviously, you have logistical problems on a train that you won’t have in a bar. Namely, lots of people in a cramped space between you and her. Walking up to a chick on a packed train will look and feel weird, no way around that. Your best bet is to be standing near where she’s sitting, so that you can look over your shoulder at her. Or get a seat next to her.

***

Email #2 is from R.:

I’ve stumbled on a form of game even more potent than Hangover Game…New Crib game, and it goes something like this;

Suppose you move, it doesn’t matter when, but you have a new place to bring your girls, here’s a sample text;

Me: Whats up?
Her: (blah) (blah) (blah) (blah)
Me: That’s cool, you should come check out my new place soon, its dope.
Her: Ooh a new place where?
Me: (XXX) (XXXXX) Street in (XXXXX)
Her: I’ll try to swing by this weekend

New Crib game seems temporal, but that’s totally up for debate.  I’ve been at my new spot for two weeks and have had five girls over.  I’ll need to wait a few months to see if any girls I haven’t spoken to in a while text or run into me, and I will try to run this new game on them.

New crib game. I like it. It sounds like a solid ploy for getting girls back to your place, as long as you use it on new girls. There’s no reason why a place you’ve been living in for years can’t serve as a “new pad” for girls who don’t know any better.

***

Email #3 is from The Hungry One:

A friend of mine is one of your regular readers, and pointed out something you’d written a few days ago, about signs your wife is about to cheat.  Enough of it rang true to worry me – though she’s actually sexually dead most of the time, and I have objective proof that she hasn’t been screwing around.  Yet.  But something has to be done, or my marriage is done.

So I read a couple dozen of your other articles, and while most of it is about landing new girls, you hint at relationship game, but always from the point of view of having someone interested in sex but not in her current man.  What I have is the inversion:  she’s disinterested in sex generally, though not actually frigid (she can, but doesn’t much want to), and in all other ways her usual self.  Price of motherhood, sure, and depressed libido is common as dirt after bearing a couple kids… but either this stops, or I do.

Refocusing her sex drive wouldn’t be much of a problem, as your earlier posts agree, but waking it up in the first place is an issue.  Alcohol often works, but I can’t realistically get her blitzed every couple days.  Clearly, proper game is the correct approach to the problem.

Give a brother a hand, Dark Master.

Objective proof she isn’t cheating? Is she in your field of vision 24/7? If not, then you have no proof. What you have, perhaps, is a lack of evidence that she’s cheating, but absence of evidence is not evidence of faithfulness. If my wife were frigid, the first thing I would suspect is cheating.

The second thing I would suspect is an abnormally low libido. Though I have never personally been acquainted with a girl suffering from such a debilitating affliction, I have heard tales of horror from friends recounting their wive’s utter disinterest in sex. Scientific studies of a dubious sort have identified anywhere from 10-30% of women have extremely low libidos. Woe to the man stuck with one of these sandpaper snatches. Your pain echoes throughout the universe.

If it’s well-lubed, exciting sex you want from her, then it’s almost irrelevant whether the cause of her dreary desiccation is unfaithfulness or physiology. Your mission will be the same.

Run relationship game. Teasing, push-pull, heavy doses of dominance, condescension, and mysterious disappearances will work best. If she’s cheating, or thinking about cheating, this will help lure her back into your orbit.

The next step, should the above fail to thaw her out, is a long, grapeseed oil massage. Don’t tell her it’s a prelude to sex. Just command her to lay on her stomach naked and give her the massage, then when she’s fully relaxed begin stroking her labia, inner thigh, and side boob. Stop after ten minutes, and tell her to get dressed, you’re done for now.

There is nothing wrong with getting her blitzed. A week after the massage, ply her with a couple glasses of red wine, then inform her it’s time for another massage. When you’ve massaged her labia to a screaming red crescendo, enter her from behind as she lays on her stomach. If, after all this, she resists, you my friend must get yourself a mistress. Or leave her. No man deserves such a miserable fate. When the kids ask why you left, tell them Mommy didn’t respect the cock.

***

Email #4 is from Chad:

Think you can say a word about “promise her the world” game, for those times when you’re slumming it and need some serious downward calibration?

“Promise her the world” game, also known as “I’ll show you the end of the rainbow” game, is a risky ploy. Pimps are masters of promise the world game, but pimps juxtapose their promises with pimp slaps. A beta playing promise the world game with a hot chick is going to get chewed up and spit out for shits and giggles. Hell, he might even get embarrassingly rejected by a war pig.

Remember, if you’re going to effectively play “promise the world” provider game (and provider game is a close cousin of vulnerability game) you have to have already established your alpha bona fides. Telling a girl you’ll show her the moon from a position of neediness will taint the moon for her. She wants to go to the moon with a man who might very well jettison her like a second stage rocket during the trip. When you make yourself scarce, your promises will have more meaning.

That said, if you really are slumming it, (and the widely accepted definition of slumming it is banging girls 3 or more points below your rank), then you don’t need much game at all. Be all the beta you can be! Let your herb flag fly. Caress her hair while you talk to her with the greatest earnestness about teaching boys to play with dolls. Tell her you’re falling for her… after the first drink (which you bought her of course). Remind her incessantly how much you love kids and how your greatest talent is your loyalty to girlfriends. Proclaim yourself a feminist. Laugh at every one of her dumb jokes. Compliment her eyes, hair, lips, body, and legs. Ask her if she’d like to go on a date with you in three hours.

In this scenario, promise the world game can work very well, if you deliver it with the romantic bravado of a Romeo in love. If the girl is a fatty and hasn’t seen cock in years, then expressively emoting about the wonderful journeys you two will take together, and the experiences you will share, just you and her against a cold, cruel world, will cause her to swoon like a toad in the midsummer heat. Detail is the key. You must learn to speak with efflorescence. Romantic minutiae is chick crack.

Filed under: Reader Mailbag

Reader el chief asks:

Dear Dr. R.,

1. What is the best type of man for a woman to marry? For both the man and the woman.

It ain’t the badboy, cuz he will cheat or fuck off shortly after they marry, if at all.

It ain’t the beta, cuz she’ll be miserable the whole time, and then so will he.

Is it the Good Alpha? Does that exist?

The best type of man for a woman to marry is a man she loves. Sounds trite, but without that prerequisite in place, the marriage is doomed to either divorce or dissimulation. Maybe arranged marriages work better than love marriages on paper, but loveless, arid business arrangements designed to smoothly usher in the next generation of cogs for the belching corporaglobomilitaryeducationalswplstatuswhoringmachine is no way to go through life, son. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get down to brass tacks.

He should be higher status than her, i.e. superior to her in some observable trait or accomplishment. That status can come in many forms. He could be better educated, smarter, richer, funnier, more socially savvy, better connected, more charming, more confident, more dominant, better traveled, more artistic, or really really good at inspiring interest from other women.

But there are two big caveats. One, he should not be much higher status than her. A large discrepancy in status between a husband and wife — where the wife’s status is measured by her looks, not her accomplishments — virtually guarantees his straying. For instance, a man with 9 status (let’s say he’s a war zone photographer who travels the world for work) will cheat if the woman he marries is only an 8 or lower in looks, and the frequency and haste with which he cheats will be in proportion to the gap between his status rank and her looks rank. So if his wife is a 9, there is a 50/50 chance of monogamous bliss. If she’s a 10, he will be less likely to stray than he would be to remain faithful to her. But if she’s a 6, he’ll be cheating with a bridesmaid in the upstairs bathroom during the reception dinner.

Two, under no circumstance should he be better looking than her, regardless of his non-looks status. This is the one area where a woman’s status must reign supreme for there to be harmony in the land. Of course, it’s difficult to directly compare men’s looks to women’s looks. Cross gender beauty comparisons must rely on contrasting two distinct templates without much overlap. But generalizations can be made. Does he look like a male model and she look like a plain jane? Release the cheats! It doesn’t matter if he’s unemployed or dumb; if he’s better looking than his wife he will feel a strong primal pull to leverage his looks for short term flings with better looking women. A groom’s wedding vows are only as strong as his bride’s looks. If the wife looks comparatively less good-looking than the husband, she has completely relinquished any power over him. This is a recipe for marital unrest.

Maxim #59: The most successful marriages are those with a balance of power that slightly favors the husband’s status over the wife’s looks.

So what does this mean for women attracted to bad boys? Well, bad boys have status in the areas of social savviness, dominance, confidence, and usually charm. A woman who wants a bad boy — that is, she specifically wants a man who is good at getting other women — needs to parse the lesser bad boys from the greater badder boys, based on an honest assessment of her looks. If she’s a hard 10, she can shoot for the baddest boys. Bad boys are more likely to stray than other men in almost any scenario, but even they have weak underbellies. A bad boy engaged to a bodacious woman will work harder to curb his instincts than he would with a more average woman, especially if that bodacious woman has credible options in the dating market.

My advice for women seeking to maximize their domestic bliss windows at the expense of their drama windows is to avoid the bad boys or date one with a steady job and at least ten years older. The age gap will make him more grateful to be with you, and his primal pull to spread his seed will have mellowed.

Betas need not feel left out from all this fun. There is an army of fatter, uglier women out there who will be relieved happy to settle in their 30s for a beta.

I don’t want to shit all over the betas. There is hope. Plenty of betas get married. If you are a beta with no game, the key is to marry a woman not too much hotter than what you can normally get, and to be excellent in at least one pursuit. It could even be computer programming. As long as you can lord one accomplishment or status marker over your wife, her attraction for you will percolate. But betas would be much better off learning game. That well-paid computer programmer with an understanding of relationship game can safely marry a woman one or two points higher than what he could otherwise get, without worrying too much that he’ll be cuckolded.

2. Is a woman’s attractiveness absolute or relative or both? Does Brad Pitt think that a 9/10 woman is still hot? Or is she ugly, cuz he can bang 10s on the regular?

I believe that positive pheromones are correlated with good looks. Does that mean a 9/10 stinks to a 10/10, or do they still smell good?

Thanks

el chief

A woman’s attractiveness is an absolute. There is no Uglitopia where Rachel McAdams could go that would make her look ugly and Cigstache look good. Brad Pitt, no matter how bored he gets fucking the same 10 over and over, will always recognize that a 10 is a 10 and a 2 is a 2. When Brad Pitt cheats, 99% of the time he’ll cheat with other 9s and 10s. If female beauty weren’t an absolute, Pitt would randomly cheat with whichever woman was available, and that would include fatties and uglies. In fact, with obesity in the US at record levels, a “beauty is subjective” world would feature lots of high status men cheating with fat, ugly women. But that is not what we see.

Pheromones are an interesting clause to the above truths. Evidence is mounting that smell — the scent of our lovers — plays a role in how attracted we feel to them. Women who smell the yellow pits of t-shirts worn by men with histo-compatible profiles feel more strongly attracted to them. Personally, I know that from my own experience two women of equal looks can trigger divergent boner responses from me if I prefer the smell of one over the other. None of this is conscious, by the way. A lot of this pheromone stuff happens at the subconscious level. So maybe women should cut men a break when they catch them sniffing their panties. We’re just checking to see if you’d make a good wife.

Only once the basic biomechanical criteria are met should a man or woman prospecting for a marriage partner begin the task of gathering clues from his or her lover’s personality that would indicate a predilection for faithfulness or for unreliability. Does he actually remember small details of what you say? Check one for the keeper column. Does she get a little too irate when she catches you innocently flirting with women at a mixed social event? Check one for the chucker column. Do this for six months, then tally your keeper and chucker columns. If 3/4s or more of your check marks are in the keeper column, you may risk marriage and its attendant drudgery.

But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Marriage Is For Chumps, Reader Mailbag

A late 20-ish/early 30s woman with a passing resemblance to Jennifer Connelly sat down on the springless couch to my right, relieved that she found a spot to sit in the crowded coffee shop. She sunk all the way in like a turtle retreating into its shell, and I smiled and told her the couch already ate two people. She laughed while pulling out a laptop.

My laptop was in front of me, perched on my thighs. In between spurts of typing I reached to sip from a cup of dragon well green tea and to munch on toasted focacia with slices of brie. Because my balls weigh that of ten men, I am secure enough to write the previous sentence. Immediately, my thoughts drifted to meeting this woman and how I could best use my supranatural Lucifer-given talents to accomplish that.

I waited for ten minutes to pass. When a woman is forced by circumstance to loiter in your proximity, it’s best not to jump on her right away. A man must leave an impression that his interest in a nearby woman only piqued after his mind stopped being preoccupied by whatever he was doing before she arrived. So I continued typing while pretending her stimulating looks hadn’t yet registered in the cock-shaped part of my brain.

Finally, I delivered my opener.

“I’ve never seen someone so engrossed in their work. You writing the next great American novel?”

Standard operating procedure. I’ve used the line many times, although it felt fresher this go round. Perhaps I was inspired by my latent decision to toss caution to the wind with what was about to come.

She chuckled at my opener, and answered with the confident voice of a woman who is used to sparring with men.

“Not quite. More like the next great American Excel spreadsheet.”

A good-looking woman with a genuine sense of humor? Did I sell my soul to the devil in a dream? Oh wow, I’d better not screw this up. My game has to be super tight! No margin for error. Just dance with the script that brought me here. No need to improvise. Stay the course!

“Ooh. My Mom warned me about women who use Excel.”

“Oh, really?” she playfully parried. “And what did she warn you about?”

“They’re bad news. They can analyze a man and know what he’s all about in two seconds.”

“That sounds like a great gift to have!”

We chatted for five more minutes. She was slowly hooking. Eventually, the conversation found its way to a point where I could deliver the following line.

“Luckily for me, I’m totally inscrutable. For instance, I’m definitely not writing an Excel spreadsheet. So you can try not to be so obvious when you peer over my shoulder to see what I’m writing.”

Babe bait.

“You certainly think highly of yourself.”

“I’m just a boy trying to figure it all out.”

“Is that what you’re writing about? Figuring it all out?”

“Sort of. I write a dating and relationship blog. Unfortunately, it’s pretty popular. So I have a lot of stalkers. Cost of doing business, I guess.”

“A dating blog?”

“And relationships.” I show her the front page of the Chateau.

“And you’re citizen renegade?”

“Among other names.”

“So, if you’re such an expert on dating, why are you still single?”

“The better question would be: Why *wouldn’t* I still be single?”

“Oh no, you sound like trouble.”

Ka-ching!

“Wow, the prison warden said the same thing to me.” She smiled and I let a few seconds of silence break the badinage.

I put forth my most serious face. “Hey, I have a confession to make…”

I love the ‘confession’ line. It’s like a mini insta-vulnerability game pebble that I can toss into almost any conversation to boost the girl’s intrigue. Plus, it makes girls a wee bit nervous, wondering if I’m going to confess to something really sordid that would make them too horny to control themselves.

“My blog is pretty controversial. I write about the dark side of human social dynamics as well. People with closed minds would probably not be able to understand. So if you find yourself curious, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I suppose now I’m going to have to take a look some time.”

“Hey, listen, I’ve got to run. But before I do I’d like to grab your number so our conversation doesn’t have to stop here for all eternity.”

This is my new number closing line. So far, I like it.

We exchanged numbers. The next day, I called her and set up a date that evening. No need to wait two days. She wasn’t an early 20s flakeriffic chick. The date went well, and we ended with a kiss. My blog was discussed, briefly, when she asked if I was really like my blog persona in real life. After I assured her I was (and make no mistake, it was assurance she secretly wanted), we went salsa dancing. A kiss to close the night, and I told her I had a good time. I didn’t set up a time for a second date. Never make plans for a future date while on a date. It reeks of urgency. Best to just tell the girl you must go, and you had a good time. Leave her stranded knee deep in the wonderment of her uncertainty.

***

I admit that using my blog as proof of status to pick up girls is cheesy. One of my goals in writing this post was to show just how powerful raw status game can be for a man. There was very little in the way of calculated technique-based game as is commonly understood used in this pickup. Instead, I relied on the crutch of high status within my endeavor of choice.

Cheesy, and effective.

She will probably read this blog post, so what I’m about to write may cost me, and her, a chance to see where this will lead. Or not. As I walked home from that first date, I asked myself if I really wanted to date the kind of girl who would be intrigued by what I write on this blog. If past experience is prologue…

But that is an answer for another time.

Filed under: Self-aggrandizement, Status Is King, Vanity