Author: roissy

When I first read this news story, I doubted its authenticity. It reads like something Snopes.com would later discredit. But I looked around and the story is repeated in multiple media outfits.

Transsexual performer vomits on Susan Sarandon

Oscar winning actress Susan Sarandon has had a bad time of it lately. The actress recently separated from her long time partner, actor Tim Robbins. Sarandon attended the third anniversary of The Box in New York’s Lower East Side.

A transsexual cabaret performer named Rose Wood engaged in projectile vomiting on stage and hit Sarandon with it .

Standing nearby were Scarlett Johansson and Liev Schreiber.

According to Wood it was not intended as an affront to the actress and she didn’t take it that way.

“Apparently [Sarandon] got a big kick out of it. She squealed with surprise and loved it when several handsome gentlemen wiped it off of her. She had a ball! I saw her assistant downstairs afterward, and he was moved by it! She was in great spirits,” Wood told the New York Press.

Wood explains that vomiting on people is fitting is this establishment. “[It was a] fitting time for an outrageous act: the third anniversary of The Box. Everybody wants to offer safe and ordinary, not The Box!”

Was the vomit fake? The news outlets reporting on this story didn’t mention anything about the vomit being fake, so it looks as if an actual stream of hot, chunky puke hit Sarandon. If she was sitting down in the first rows, it is likely the projectile vomit splattered her upper body and face. Where does getting vomited on rank compared to other incredibly disgusting affronts to one’s dignity? Leaving aside for purposes of this discussion the creatively exotic ways in which the tortures of the damned might be executed (e.g., feeding severed genitalia to the writhing victim), I have ranked in descending order the top three most disgusting things that could happen to a person.

A tranny crapping on you. (Bonus points if face is the bulls-eye.)
A tranny projectile vomiting on you. (Again, bonus points for face.)
A tranny — assuming he/she still has a dick — jizzing on you. (Despite the terabytes of pornographic evidence to the contrary, I’d imagine that, like Clarice Starling, most women would not appreciate receiving an unwanted hot load to the face by a complete stranger, whether or not that stranger was doing ”art” on stage. If we were to restrict our ranking to straight men, I’d place jizz in face above vomit in face, but just slightly below crap in face. If the crap was small, hard, and pellet-like, I think most men would even take that over jizz in the face. I once saw a porno clip of two guys on one girl and one of the dudes accidentally jizzed into the other dude’s face as that dude was kissing the girl. The reaction of the jizzed-upon dude was priceless. He jumped back instantaneously and retched, swinging his arms around blindly for a towel to wipe off on. I bet his nightmares will haunt his sleep for years.)

Was Sarandon auditioning for “two old leftie hags, one cup”? And what the hell was Scarlett Johansson doing there? Did she partake of the pukage? I’ve gotta say, nothing can desexify a hot babe faster than a little dribble of puke falling down her cheek, like a sad, gross tear.

This story has so much win it’s hard to know where to begin. First of all, it happened to Susan Sarandon. This is better than if it happened to Bono, although not as good as if it happened to Katie Couric. Secondly, the melding of elitist status posturing with the fraud that is modern “art” is perfectly symbolized in the caulking of the latter’s vomitus to the former’s face. This is meta-art that illuminates far more than the actual art.

Idiocracy isn’t confined to the plebes and riff raff. A counterpart idiocracy is simultaneously at work degrading the elite. A sure sign of a culture’s death rattle is its elite abandoning all pretense of taste and class in a vain effort to prop a barrier between themselves and the hoi polloi. The fraud that is modern art has served this function well for the past 50 or 60 years, but it is finally reaching its inevitable resolution, as it always would, devolving into a repulsive farce that says more about professed elite admiration for it than about the art itself. At one time, there was piss christ, which the elites could happily use as a club to bludgeon the unsophisticated into submissive apologia. But pretty (and not so pretty) lies are like ravenous beasts that must continually feed until ultimately they turn on their advocates. (See: Any multicultural society’s paeans to diversity.) And so we have the scorching parody of an elitist like Susan Sarandon suffering a stream of projectile vomit from the beast she helped breathe to life, and then being forced by a combination of circumstance and cognitive dissonance to betray her own disgust reflex at the altar of lifestyle liberalism.

Susan Sarandon’s defiled face and subsequent feint of enjoyment and poseurism is a symbol of the late Caesarean implosion of our putative overclass. Tim Robbins’ dumping her must have hit her hard. (Another high status man dumps aging wife! News at 11.) The “several handsome gentlemen wiped it off of her” line is telling. Rose Wood knows what a wrinkled, sexually worthless woman wants to hear. On the other end of the social spectrum, People of Walmart race to the bottom free of any need or desire to ape the habits of their betters. And who could blame them when their betters are the likes of Sarandon, vomiting trannies, and enabling art critics and media mavens? All the while, the rapidly shrinking sane middle is beaten like a pinata by an unholy alliance of the hermetically warped elites and the wretched bottom dwellers, of which such end-gameplaying is sure to have deadly serious consequences.

Here is the truth of the incident. You, Susan Sarandon, got puked on by a freak degenerate performing nothing remotely resembling art except in the fevered imaginations of bathhouse Baudelaires and serial killers. It wasn’t cutely “outrageous” and it wasn’t conceptually deep that only you and your inner circle of pretend snobs could recognize its artistic merit. And those “handsome gentlemen” in attendance took pity on you, the kind of unwelcome, soul withering pity reserved for the losers and the lost. Of which you are now one.

Filed under: Culture, Goodbye America, Status Is King, Vanity

I was sitting at one of my favorite social venues when a disturbance behind me erupted. A woman had just arrived and greeted her mixed group of friends with an exaggeratedly pronounced “Hiiii!!!” All the women already sitting at the table, and the couple of men who were with them, replied nearly in unison with an even louder and prolonged “Hiiiiii!!!”. The “Hiiii!!” was annoying beyond belief; a sing-song-y, off-key yenta battle cry. It’s hard to describe the sound of a spoken word, but imagine a musical “Hi” divided into two notes with the accent (upbeat) on the first note (Hii-) followed languorously by a longer downbeat on the second whole note (-iiiiiiii), spoken in adagio and fortissimo. Would a girl saying “Hi” like this sound phony? Yes!

It’s pretty common knowledge that DC stands at the top in per capita phoniness. There is a higher density of phoniness per square mile here than even in vaunted phony cities like New York. The whole reason of DC’s existence is to persuade other people to throw money, perks, or props your way, so a finely developed skill in the art of phoniness is a requirement before stepping in the ring. But this latest incarnation of phoniness is breathtaking even to a jaded cynic like myself. And these were not teen girls. They were grown-ass women with non-profit jobs and rich daddies to pay their exhorbitant rents.

To all the girls reading this post who greet each other and their gay best boyfriends this way, I ask: Are you *really* that happy to see your friends whom you just saw last week? Or is phoniness the new black? Maybe you think the phony Hi and the accompanying fake phony smile are supposed to be feminine, but I assure you, it is not. Fingernails on a chalkboard? Yes. Feminine? No. I’ll go out on a limb here and hypothesize that girls who are fakers when greeting people are also fakers in bed.

Here’s what I think is going on. The thuper duper edge community gay culture and the girly follower female culture have fused and become as one — a vortex of caricatured, trannyfied pseudofemininity spewing nebulae of jutting manjaws, wildly faggy gesticulations, and conversations that sound downright operatic. It is a vortex of suckage that any straight man would find baffling, which come to think of it, may be the point. But I can definitely tell you what it is *not*. It’s not attractive. This illustrates another great dividing line between the sexes – our respective reactions to phoniness. In general, men loathe phonies. Women cherish the company of phonies, and embrace the phony scene with gusto. Without phonies in their lives, women would have nothing to be catty about behind closed doors.

There is a powerful feeback loop in effect when girls and gays join forces. Where does this great culture meld between city girls and city gays end?

Half the moves in men’s figure skating look like reach arounds.

Filed under: Girls, Ridiculousness, The DC Life

For whatever reason, I’ve been getting more emails than ever from men thanking me for the blog and the improvements my writing has made to their love lives. I need an assistant to handle the boatloads of reader emails I’ve been getting lately. Any cute girls who like to wear schoolgirl skirts without underwear up for the, uh… position? Pupu? You seem the naughty type.

Email #1:

Most benevolent schlongmeister:

I have a quandary. I have shared my cliffs notes (consisting of links to your essays, or me getting them drunk and hollering at them) on the crimson arts with some of my nerdly friends, in hopes of making them more studly. These guys have had a lot of success; one guy went from “depressed middle aged schlub who got dumped by his fishwife, and who pines for his nerdy looking lady friends,” to “skewering 20 year old hotties by the half dozen” in a matter of a few weeks. Another was a long single fella; good looking dude, talented, keeps fit, went from “passive guy who never gets a date” to “boinks all the girls he desires.” There are other examples; I feel a benevolent fatherly glow, watching these good fellows grow from boy to man in this important area of their life.

My quandary: many of them seem unable to keep a woman. I think the seduction boards talk about this, they talk about accomplished seducers who have “something missing,” and never seem to have a girlfriend. They say stuff like the guys are so focused on the seduction process they can’t actually relate to the ladies, and so they can’t keep their girlfriends. I think that’s total girlie horse shit; “relating to women” is something fags do when they go shoe shopping with them. No, my extensive research (I asked the chicks who dumped them) indicates these dudes didn’t fuck their lady friends properly. That’s what is missing. Probably, they were taught some feminist bullshit about focusing on the clitoris like some kind of guppy fish,  or else they just lack the animal drive to fuck ‘em like an enraged gorilla. Whatever it is, I’m kind of at a loss on explaining this. I figure if I say, “learn to squat 400lbs, then fuck them like a rapist,”  they’ll just give up; either that or they’ll do something lame and serial killer-like.

You’re much better at breaking crap like this down, so maybe you can do an article on the subject some time. I figure 90% of “relationship game” consists of fucking them so hard, their stupid hamster wheel never has a chance to spin up on you. The other 10% consists of acting like you can fuck them hard enough to make their hips crack the rest of the time; aka “being da man.” Personally, I make it a policy to not hang around with women I’m schtupping unless I’m actually screwing them: I got too much crap to do to rot in front of a TV or go on “hikes” or whatever most people do to kill time, because they have nothing better to do. This is probably part of it too; lame sex + TV = getting dumped. Hot rutting + elusive man of mystery who makes the time fun = stalkers.

sincerely,

-[reader requested anonymity]

First, a general observation regarding this reader’s email. A sneering accusation often heard from the arid, anti-seduction crowd is that the self-professed pickup gurus are never seen with a girlfriend, or otherwise have trouble keeping a girl for longer than a few weeks. Pay it no heed. It is the feeble bleat of the envious and the insecure. While I don’t have a data sheet of rock hard, throbbing numbers to arouse the nerd brigade in attendance, from casual impressions I don’t see the smattering of men who are public game advocates having any more or less success than the average beta bear finding and maintaining relationships. Neil Strauss has had long term girlfriends. I think he’s in an LTR now. Lance Mason, the founder of Pickup 101 is, or was, last I heard, in an LTR. Stephane Hemon, possibly the wackiest of the game teachers who profits from his knowledge, is married (to one woman). Some of the local men I know who follow and use game principles in their lives are informally hitched. Even Mystery, narcissist extraordinaire and player supreme, has had long term commitments, though undoubtedly of the more dramatic sort that would give hives to men who weary quickly of women’s mental masturbatory games.

That aside, let’s assume for the moment that the impression that pickup artists have trouble keeping girlfriends is accurate. Two reasons would account for this. One, many men who come into the game have had a lifelong history of trouble with the ladies. When they are finally handed the skeleton key to the gated secret garden, their enthusiasm for “skewering 20 year old hotties” will often trip up their good sense in the area of managing long term relationships. It is a tightrope, balancing the skills that get the girl with the skills that keep the girl, and most men will favor the former at the expense of the latter owing to the established scientific fact that for men, variety is its own reward.

Two, when someone gives you the power to attract and seduce multitudes of women, would you immediately put your newfound power to use seducing just one woman, and then calling it a day? Let’s just say that all those girlfriend-less pickup artists are crying all the way to their well-used, rumpled bedsheets. Or, to put it another way, if the choice is between an endless string of unstable, short term flings and no women at all, which do you think most men would choose?

Ok, now to the reader’s email. There is some truth to the observation that freshly minted players have trouble connecting with women on the level that would be required to sustain an LTR. Part (not all) of the mindset that is needed for pickup is antagonistic to the mindset needed for successfully navigating an LTR. When a man is hopped up on the thrill of meeting new women, he often loses sight of the little things that a girlfriend would want from him to strengthen their emotional bond. And so we see weird things happening to PUAs, such as Mystery losing his cool and his Russian girlfriend to a slaphappy roommate, and students of pickup workshops complaining a month later that the girls they banged aren’t interested in LTRs. What is happening to these men is a blunting of the psychological acumen needed to fulfill a girlfriend’s desires by heavy use of those alternate psychological ploys that serve masterfully as seduction tools. Listening with love to a woman is one of those key skills that seems to take a backseat to the wicked art of seduction.

But like the emailer, I too, find that an overwrought emphasis on “relating to women” is counterproductive for men, and also a little faggy. A lot of forlorn betas and sackless wonders will read “relating to women” as a ewe-like war cry to show more emotion, be more sensitive, and find more commonality with women on women’s terms. Let’s be clear: Couples shoe shopping is not going to fix your LTR. Men and women will never find commonality, and nor should they, because men and women by the hand of the double helical godking are designed from the origin point to exist in two separate spheres of perception. From a man’s correct point of view, women are not meant to be “related to”; they are meant to be seduced, fucked, cared for, laughed with, and loved a little or a lot. Don’t go looking for self actualization in a relationship.

The emailer says that the women he spoke to suggested it was a lack of proper rogering that turned them off from consdering their lovers as long term potential. I find this plausible, barring the usual caveats to take whatever women say with a silo of salt. A good bit of advice I could give to men who might suspect this is the problem is to focus less on tender lovemaking and more on raw, Discovery Channel savannah-style humping. Don’t worry about giving her an orgasm. If you bang with abandon, sweaty and unprepossessed, like a majestic lion king who just fatally bit the necks of twelve lion cubs and assumed by force the position of alpha male of the pride, with all the perks therein, it won’t much matter if she has an orgasm. For women, just as much stimulation is gotten from the feeling of being pumped like the submissive animal creature she is as from the actual crest and resolution of a physiological orgasm. If the thought of dominating your woman in bed shrivels your scrote, may I suggest a long and sexless marriage to a hag shrike who writes a feminist blog?

Email #2:

Roissy,

Chicks don’t dig jerks. They dig men who _can_ be jerks.

What’s jerkiness except taking without reciprocating, doing and saying what you want, and generally enjoying yourself without concern for the cost to others? We all want to be jerks. In fact, the easiest thing in the world is to be a jerk. But only some people can get away with being jerks, and most have to work hard to avoid jerkery. That is, only some people can take what they want without fearing the anger of other men. Perhaps fewer still can take what they want without fearing the anger of women.

The upshot for your readership is that women don’t have some special attraction to jerky actions per se. Instead, they are attracted to powerful men who have no reason to temper their preferred state of jackassery. Maybe fake it until you make it applies here, but I’m guessing most men can only push the limits of their asshole potential rather than break out of them entirely.

All the best,

C

The above was written by a woman going by the handle “Candy Fox”. If that’s her real name, I salute the gumption she’ll need to handle the challenges that lie ahead of her in the quest to marry up in social class.

The first line stuck out: “Chicks don’t dig jerks. They dig men who _can_ be jerks.” This is semantics. The men who *can* be jerks are often the men who *are* jerks. Why? Because they can be. It’s similar to an assertion I recall longtime commenter and sprightly feminine ingenue Alias Clio made, which went something along the lines of “Women don’t fall for the asshole behavior. We fall in love *despite* the asshole behavior.”

From most men’s perspectives, it’s inconsequential whether women fall for the jerk despite his assholery, or because of his assholery. The bottom line is that here, there, and everywhere, women (and particularly women of the highest sexual market value) are falling in love with, and having raunchy sex with, a rogues gallery of assholes, dicks, jerks, cads, boors, and even serial killers. So you’ll excuse the less fortunate in love men for not much caring about the rationalizations that women employ to assuage their guilt over falling for men Mom would not approve of, (but would secretly cream for).

The contention itself is false, anyhow. A simple thought experiment should suffice to show why this is so. If women were truly falling for jerks *despite* their jerkiness, then it stands to reason that the men women fall for would be randomly distributed from amongst the male population, as the positive traits that are presumably attracting these women would be found equally in jerks and non-jerks. But this is not what we see. (Note that marriage rates and marital choices are not indicative of what women truly desire in a sexual partner, especially when those women are forced into a corner by delayed singledom and aging cougarification to settle into a lame marriage with a peabody puffboy out of expedience.) Instead what we see is a notable sexual preference by women for men who aren’t particularly nice.

If women wanted nice, the beta store is fully stocked with saintly men. Candy Fox contends that women want nice, but they want it in a package that is capable of threatening jerk-like actions. But how is a woman to know a man is capable of jerkiness if he doesn’t demonstrate it? Answer: she can’t know without demonstration. And when is that demonstration of jerkiness most pertinent to a woman’s subconscious need to gather mate value information about a man? Answer: right at the beginning when she is deciding whether to have sex with him.

So we can easily conclude from my little thought experiment that women indeed do fall for jerks *because* of their jerkiness. Alias Clio would say that jerks have concomitant desireable traits that are actually responsible for her feelings of sexual arousal. She might say that a jerk’s jerkiness is not desireable, but his charm and cockiness are. Leaving aside for purposes of argument the telling observation that charm and cockiness are more often found in jerks than in niceguys (hello… ladieeees ), it is the height of hamster rationalization to presume there is no connection between a jerk’s charming attractiveness and his jerkiness. It is as if women wish to argue that loveable, sexy jerks are really two separate men in the same body, a Dr. Jerkyl Mr. Sly bipolarity that has infected the known human universe like a vampiric plague.

It’s a cop-out. An ego escape clause. A semantical nimbleness of tongue. The jerk makes his jerky presence known almost from the instant you meet him. It’s exhibited not just in his actions, but in his irresistible aloofness. No, one of the things women love about a jerk is… his jerkiness. And that is why, ladies, you will get more of what you love.

Filed under: Reader Mailbag

“Issues”. That’s a twinkletoes word, isn’t it? “We have issues, dear.” “I think we need to discuss some issues.” Almost as bad as “closure”. What makes “issues” ambiguously slippery is the fact that the issues that matter to men diverge so wildly from the issues that matter to women. Women normally leave relationships because of issues having to do with nebulous smoke and mirrors concepts like “compatibility” and “fulfilling her needs”. As all of you must know (since you read my blog) these excuses by women are merely handwaving bromides to conceal the crass tingle generator under the skirt that is actually responsible for her decision-making. Nonetheless, the relationship “issues” that matter to women are indeed a bit more complicated than those that motivate men to either stay with or leave a lover. A woman’s 463 bullet point checklist is a real phenomenon and dwarfs most men’s checklists for acceptable partners. If you don’t like tofu AND you fart in bed AND you voted for Ron Paul, she just might spend sleepless nights agonizing over whether you are The One. (My advice: Ignore 99% of a woman’s “needs”. Attempting to fulfill more than 1% of a woman’s needs will brand you with a big fat “B” for beta.)

Men are fairly clear and even simple in their (usually) unstated reasons for feeling the need to flee a relationship. Essentially, two uber variables are responsible for how men feel about their lovers. One, how hot is she? And two, how novel is her pussy? That’s pretty much all there is. Sure, minor details like compatibility and shared values will have some influence over how warmly men feel about their partners, but these factors pale in comparison to the hotness and freshness of the pussy in question. For example, a man who just met a babe ranked 9 is going to want to fuck her nonstop and dream of slaving away to give her the world. On the other hand, a man who has been with the same 5 ranked woman for years will be able to go weeks, if not months, free of any desire to fuck her as his thoughts are preoccupied with visions of skirt-hiking the bounty of babes he sees on his morning commute every day.

These two important variables influencing men’s feeling of commitment to a lover can be represented in the following handy graphs.

As we can see from the above, most men couldn’t be bothered to bang 5s and below more than once per day. But anything over a 6 and a man’s sexual urge shoots through the roof. 8s, 9s, and 10s are really nature’s natural viagra. A 90 year old who hasn’t sported wood in twenty years will suddenly spring to life if Zooey Deschanel sits naked on his lap.

In this graph we see that the novelty of the pussy has a big impact on how often the man wants to do the woman. Pussy that he’s woken up next to for ten years is unlikely to stir his loins at all, while brand new pussy will remind him why it’s great to be alive. An ugly truth of life is that men, unlike women, simply get off on sexual variety for its own sake. Don’t take it personally, ladies. We’re not cads. We’re just formed that way.

This post should serve as a valuable guide for women wanting to figure out just how deeply loyal their boyfriends or husbands actually feel towards them. A man’s strength of commitment can be measured surprisingly accurately by these two variables.

(Note that I’m referring to a man’s “strength” of commitment, not his “lack of options preventing disloyalty”. These are two different concepts. A man with lots of options on the dating market — i.e. an alpha — will only feel strongly loyal — and hence, unlikely to cheat or withhold resources — to a girlfriend who is hot and piping fresh. This strong emotion-directed loyalty is a separate beast from social- and peer-influenced loyalty, and is the type of loyalty that burns brightest but is also quickest to fade. Betas also lose their sense of strong emotional loyalty, but unlike the alphas their lack of options means they are pretty much stuck with the same old same old, mouthing platitudes on anniversaries and birthdays to keep the mutli-horned ball-smashing divorce demon from breaching a portal to his world.)

So, ladies, if you want to know how commited he is to you, a simple test (and one that requires being bracingly honest with yourself) is to tally how many times per day on average he desires you intimately. Is he constantly groping you? Good news! He hardly notices other women. Has it been a week since he last fucked you? Better start combing through his cellphone texts.

When I start feeling like I could go a day without fucking my girlfriend, that’s when I seriously mull the option to reenter the dating market with purpose. I start flirting with other women and running game again like I was single and horny. And I notice more clearly when other women are flirting with me. This may seem like I’m placing some hard-to-please demands on my women, but the woman who can keep me sexually entertained for years will know she is a worthy lover indeed.

Filed under: Hope and Change, Relationships, The Id Monster

I catch flak from some readers complaining that there is no way to draw a valid distinction between alpha and beta males. I don’t know what planet these readers live on (planet Delusional Tard?), but instead of pointing them to my dating market value test for men, I’ll just let a video speak for me. If this doesn’t help clear their muddled thinking, nothing will. Behold: Baba Beta!

“My teeth are a 10!” Howard Stern in his prime was comedy gold.

Filed under: Beta, Funny/Lolblogs

Valentine’s Day is probably the one day of the year which presents special difficulties to the harem king attempting to juggle his multiple lovers. Birthdays and anniversaries are scattered and Christmas absences can be excused by claiming to spend time with family. But Valentine’s Day is that one day of the year that every girl in the known universe expects to be spending with the man who is laying intimately with her. So what does the Man With Multiple Lovers do on this most romantic of days?

I can tell you what the harem king doesn’t do: Tell the truth. There is some literature in the seduction community dealing with harem management (or “multiple long term relationships”) for truly advanced players, but what is counseled is something along the lines of 1. be honest, 2. reframe, and 3. be exceptionally high status. For most men, satisfying condition nmber 3 is unlikely, which is the most important variable in being able to successfully and *openly* manage multiple lovers. There is a reason that seduction community advice for handling MLTRs is so sparse and half-baked — it’s damned hard to do. The fact is that most successful players — alphas and greater betas alike — will lie out of expedience to enable the gravy train of multiple concurrent pussy to keep rolling. Honest and open MLTRs of the sort extolled by pickup instructors who are scared of being labeled misogynists are very rare. I estimate less than 0.5% of men can pull it off for longer than a few months. Eventually, one or more of the girls will tire of the arrangement and opt out, and it will usually be the highest quality [read: age 18- 25, BMI 17 – 23] concubine in his harem, because she is the one with the most options on the open sexual market.

As for reframing, yes, if your game is exceptional and your aloofness unshakeable, you can execute a smooth reframe with all your women and avoid lying to them about sleeping around. But I mean your game has to be tighter than an Asian chick’s virgin anus. And don’t expect it to last much beyond the four month mark. If you think kickass reframing will net you three hot, faithful, simultaneous long term girlfriends who dote on you for years, you need to come down to earth. Your game is not that good. Even pinnacle alpha males have trouble with this. You think Angelina Jolie would tolerate for long a second lover in Brad’s bed? Sure, she likely looks the other way at his dalliances (in much the same way Elin Woods ignored the evidence of Tiger’s blatant cheating for years until the dam burst), but Brad upholds his end of the bargain by LYING about those dalliances, either forthrightly or by omission. I’m assuming Brad is cheating, because the odds of a man of his status not cheating on a rapidly trannie-mogrifying wife like Jolie are infinitesimally low.

An alternative to psy-ops pimp-style harem management for successfully operating an open and honest MLTR is to relinquish your male prerogative as sole pussy possessor. If you state up front to your girls that your desire to bed a variety of women means it’s only natural you don’t place the same expectations of fidelity on them, you can amp up your aloofness game to maximum overload and actually pull off the coveted Open and Honest MLTR. Upside: You never have to worry about covering your tracks. (Roosh recently wrote a good post about track covering). Downside: You may be swimming in polluted vaj. The downside risk to this alternative is so anathema to the majority of men, that even if they have mentally rationalized their way to embracing the wonders of the open, polyamorous relationship, they will likely find it nearly impossible to control their emotions should they suspect one of their favored mistresses is fucking another man on the side. The god of biomechanics, the one true god, is not to be trifled with. This also explains why the denizens of professed polyamorous arrangements are usually ugly, fat, middle-aged hippies with greasy hair. When the grotesqueries you are banging are practically worthless in the sexual market, you don’t much care if they screw around. You aren’t losing much.

I don’t mean to be a complete downer on the concept of the open MLTR. There is a chance, not insignificant, that following the precepts of the open relationship by establishing early on with your women a very loose code of conduct could redound in your favor. Women aren’t linear in thought or action, so telling them they have the option to fuck on the side since that is what you will be doing does not mean that your women are actually going to follow through and fuck on the side. It could just as well result in them wondering in awe at your alphaness that you don’t care if your concubines “cheat” on you. This is aloofness game taken to the nth degree, and can often send the rationalization hamsters spinning so furiously that your multiple girlfriends won’t have the mental energy to expend seeking out additional male partners. They will instead spend their spare time analyzing the smallest details of your words and actions. Remember, too, that it is not in the nature of women to sleep with more than one man at a time, so the open relationship is often open in name only. What normally happens to open relationships is the primary (most attractive) girl bolts after a few months while the lesser girls squabble for sole rights to your time.

Which brings us back to Valentine’s Day. How does the man with multiple lovers deal with V-Day? Well, as I’ve amply demonstrated above, he doesn’t tell the truth. That would be sexual suicide for most men. He prefers not to blatantly lie either, not because of his tender concern for upholding a moral order in the universe, but because as a practical matter it’s hard to keep up with lies. And the inveterate player never lets his eye too far off the practical matters, even for men such as myself with a strong streak of romanticism. No, what he does instead is EVADE. And evasion is best accomplished through planning and foresight.

Let’s say you are currently banging three girls, rated 8, 7 and 5. You’ve been with the 8 for six months, the 7 for four months, and the 5 two months. (The 5 is your guaranteed booty call when you MUST BUST RIGHT NOW.) Obviously, the 8 is going to receive the bulk of your loving attention, and you will be most upset if she were the one to leave you. So you set up the official Valentine’s Day date with the 8. Plan to do the usual stuff with her — nice restaurant, flowers, charming flattery, wild sex. Two weeks before V-Day you call the 7 and tell her to make sure she keeps the weekend before Valentine’s Day free, because you are going to take her out and show her a good time. Then you call the 5 and tell her to be free a couple of days after V-Day. Why do you do this? By preemptively arranging dates with your lesser girls around Valentine’s Day, you buy yourself plausible exemption from having to spend time with them on V-Day itself. They will be so happy that you’re taking them out they won’t be too bothered by the fact that it’s not on Valentine’s Day. If they ask why you aren’t taking them out on V-Day (most girls won’t ask, as it would be an admission of their doubts about their worthiness to you), tell them you spend Valentine’s Day with your family. Or just say you’ll be out of town, so you wanted to see them before you leave. If the spirit moves you, have some flowers delivered to them on V-Day, which they will receive with warm smiles while you are blasting a glorious load in the face of your number one lover.

Filed under: Escape, Game, Girls, Pretty Lies, Psy Ops, Self-aggrandizement, The Good Life

Readers have sent me this New York Beta Times article about the skewed sex ratio on college campuses. It turns out there is widespread discrimination against men in favor of admitting women to higher institutions of learning. If I were a knee-jerk liberal, this would be my go-to explanation. Better yet, if I were a culturally cocooned fruitcup leftie elitist of the sort who would write for the NYBTimes, I might explain the dearth of male participation in higher learning this way:

Women on gender-imbalanced campuses are paying a social price for success and, to a degree, are being victimized by men precisely because they have outperformed them, Professor Campbell said. In this way, some colleges mirror retirement communities, where women often find that the reward for outliving their husbands is competing with other widows for the attentions of the few surviving bachelors.

Get that? Women are victimized by men for outperforming them in college admissions. I feel manipulated by this media spin. Somebody call tha police!

The article itself is interesting not for its trenchant analysis, but for the money quotes by some of the coeds [reminder: sexual prime, age: 18 – 21, BMI: 17 – 23].

Jayne Dallas, a senior studying advertising who was seated across the table, grumbled that the population of male undergraduates was even smaller when you looked at it as a dating pool. “Out of that 40 percent [of men on campus], there are maybe 20 percent that we would consider, and out of those 20, 10 have girlfriends, so all the girls are fighting over that other 10 percent,” she said.

I think Ms. Dallas fucked up her math. Or she is really picky. I presume she meant to say 50% of that 40% of men, but confused half of 40 (citing 20%) for half of 40% as a percentage. In fact, she seems to be all over the place confusing percentages with absolute numbers. You can’t expect much from an advertising major. On the other hand, if she really did mean that only 20% of the men on campus would interest her, then the imbalanced sex ratio seems to be doing nothing to curb the natural inborn phenomenon of Hottie Hypergamy. (Non-hottie hypergamy usually resolves itself in buckets of ice cream or soul-crushing strings of one night stands. Do note that a woman’s right to choose ice cream takes precedence over her right to choose a beta.)

The very next sentence by the article’s author is this:

Needless to say, this puts guys in a position to play the field, and tends to mean that even the ones willing to make a commitment come with storied romantic histories. Rachel Sasser, a senior history major at the table, said that before she and her boyfriend started dating, he had “hooked up with a least five of my friends in my sorority — that I know of.”

Hm. Not sure how Alex Williams segued so effortlessly from Jayne Dallas confessing that despite the imbalanced sex ratio she still only finds 20% of the men attractive to “this puts guys in a position to play the field”. Correction Mr. (or Ms.?) Williams: This puts ALPHA MALES in a position to play the field. Betas continue chafing themselves to relief.

Thanks to simple laws of supply and demand, it is often the women who must assert themselves romantically or be left alone on Valentine’s Day, staring down a George Clooney movie over a half-empty pizza box.

“I was talking to a friend at a bar, and this girl just came up out of nowhere, grabbed him by the wrist, spun him around and took him out to the dance floor and started grinding,” said Kelly Lynch, a junior at North Carolina, recalling a recent experience.

This article is useless without a proper analysis of the types of men on campus who are getting blatantly propositioned by women. But the NYBTimes won’t touch that with a ten foot schlong, because it might mean peeking behind the frilly lace at what exactly drives female mating choice. Let me start off the discussion by suggesting that the “10% of guys” who are the recipients of bumpandgrindage are pretty much the same 10% of guys on college campuses without an imbalanced sex ratio. Oh sure, maybe a few extra dudes luck out from a favorable sex ratio, but by and large female hypergamy is as rock solid unalterable as is male attraction to slender hourglass figures and youthful beauty. Which is why you’ll see a bigger increase in the number of voluntarily single women choosing to sit out the dating game when the odds are against them than you would see an increase in the number of hotties slumming it with betas who would normally repulse them. This is not to say the sex ratio has no impact. It does. Just not as much as most would believe. The sex ratio’s biggest impact is how it changes courtship behavior (more women dressing sluttily; more men acting like cads), but courtship behavior is not the same as fucking. The endgame is still “Who is she fucking?”, and by my take, a favorable sex ratio for men doesn’t much change the calculus of women seeking the 10-20% top dogs for fucking. As I’ve written before:

Roissy Maxim #101: For most women, five minutes of alpha is worth five years of beta.

Thanks to the sex ratio, a lot of these college chicks choose to share the cock of a worthy insperminator rather than settle for a beta, no matter how numerically scarce beta penii happens to be. They don’t much like sharing, but they like receiving the tepid seed of a milquetoast puffboy even less.

Naturally, all systems have a breaking point. I would bet that when the sex ratio becomes radically skewed — let’s say 80% women 20% men — you would start to see some strange female behavior. Cats laying down with dogs, women laying down with betas. It’s probably happened before in human prehistory. One evo theory suggests the reason for Euro women’s exemplary beauty stems from a time in the distant past when large numbers of eligible paleobachelors were killed off hunting big prey, leaving the remaining men to choose from among the hordes of lonely women. These men likely chose the hottest babes to pass on their genes, ushering forth the big-eyed neotenous era we have today. As with all good things in life, beauty, too, was born in a crucible of boiling blood. Thanks, God!

Indeed, there are a fair number of Mr. Lonelyhearts on campus. “Even though there’s this huge imbalance between the sexes, it still doesn’t change the fact of guys sitting around, bemoaning their single status,” said Patrick Hooper, a Georgia senior. “It’s the same as high school, but the women are even more enchanting and beautiful.”

Wait a sec. Six women for every four men and yet there remain men who can’t get laid? How could this be? *scratching head, looking skyward and sticking tongue out a little* Nope, I just can’t figure out why there are male students sitting around lonely and single. For those men attending college who think a favorable sex ratio will spare you the need to learn game, I hope you can see the folly of that thinking. At best, a good sex ratio simply means more betas getting taunted by slutty women flashing scads of skin to catch the attention of the few alphas in the room.

“It causes girls to overanalyze everything — text messages, sideways glances, conversations,” said Margaret Cheatham Williams, a junior at North Carolina. “Girls will sit there with their friends for 15 minutes trying to figure out what punctuation to use in a text message.”

Girls have always overanalyzed the laconic conversations of alpha males. The sex ratio doesn’t change that. All it does is make their overanalyzing of the same men tinged with frantic desperation. Sorry betas, your conversations don’t get overanalyzed by women. They get disappeared; sucked into a void of whitenoise. You know, kinda like how you don’t remember a single word a fat chick said to you.

I haven’t written much about sex ratios because I don’t find it to be all that pertinent to a man’s daily life and his odds with women. I’ve noted that on a microcosmic scale a very bad sex ratio can mean a shitty night at the bar fending off armies of Bob Evans, and perhaps on a macro scale a skewed sex ratio will affect a host of social indicators. But for the day to day gaming of chicks, sex ratio isn’t going to have much impact one way or the other, unless it is severe and prolonged. If I had to guess, I’d say a sex ratio that favors men — as we have on a lot of college campuses these days — would mean the following:

• Women acting sluttier.
• Fat women ostracized more than ever.
• Betas taunted by a flesh machine churning out display product they cannot buy.
• Alphas living like harem kings.
• Alphas in general acting more caddish. More drinking, fighting, fornicating, and video gaming.
• Betas in general withdrawing more from social life to seek the sympathetic embrace of their computers or like-minded losers in love.
• Dating replaced by fucking (“hooking up” in the current nomenclature).
• Blowjobs and anal sex increasingly accepted as virginity-sparing sex substitutes.
• Later marriages.
• And finally, a tired rationalization hamster punching in overtime. The female mind has never been so besotted with challenges to her anti-slut barricade!

Bottom line: If you are an alpha male, this is a great time to be a student at State U. If you are a beta male, life sucks as usual. If you are an alpha female, things just got tougher. If you are a beta female, you have a glorious career in HR and a schnerdling husband to look forward to in between bed-pounding nights and tearful morning-afters with the sexily oblivious men who would forever haunt your memories and your heart.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Culture, Sluts, The Good Life

Reader PA posed the following game-related scenario:

Roissy, here is a shit test I have no idea how to answer: when a woman makes a self-deprecating remark about her own looks. This happened to me twice in very recent past, and I just smiled and said nothing, but there probably is a better response.

Those weren’t young hotties you need to nuclear-neg, nor ugly women you kind of feel sorry for. Both were very attractive (for their age), older than me.

Not trying to game them or anything, just wanting to keep good relations (work, extended social life) and gina-tingle is how you keep good relations with women. Got a good response?

Ah, the classic passive-aggressive self-deprecation shit test. Be careful, men, this is an advanced form of female game that is subtle enough to trip up even the most battle-worn players. Answer this one wrong and you might be staring down the barrel of a pouty face for weeks to come.

Broadly speaking, there are five more or less effective ways to answer the self-deprecation shit test (SDST):

1. Validate her. “No, you don’t have crows’ feet. You have great skin. You’re gorgeous.”
2. Playfully invalidate her. “Oh yeah, your crows’ feet are HUGE. Like, you have the grand canyon of crows’ feet. A murder of crows has set up shop on your face, pooping and pecking all over you!”
3. Tangentially agree. “Oh, well, life can be tough.”
4. Ignore her. See: PA’s response. Abruptly changing the subject works too.
5. Reframe. “Have you always been this vain?”

The five responses above all have their pros and cons, but some are more pro than con. The validation tactic of number one should be avoided with any woman you have been dating/banging/betrothed to for less than six months. Validation is the easy peasy lemon squeezy cop-out for uncreative betas with fear in their hearts. Remember that the primary purpose of the female shit test is to suss out beta fear of loss. A woman wants to know that if she pushes too far, you would be willing to dump her in 30 seconds no looking back, with or without the heat coming around the corner. Sure, she may not want to be dumped, but she tingles when the threat of a dumping is real. So if you validate a woman her poofy head hamster will rationalize that you are merely placating her to avoid losing out on her golden pussy (or her social approval). This is seriously the way women think. I know, it’s crazy, but you work with what’s put before you. The only scenario in which I would counsel validation as an effective response to the SDST is when the man has established his alpha bonafides with the woman, and they have been together for longer than six months. It is not unusual for a longtime wife, let’s say, to begin harboring doubts about her continued attractiveness to her husband, especially if said husband has recently gotten a promotion and a new fresh-faced secretary to go along with it. In such cases, the SDST is a genuine cry for confidence-boosting flattery. Give it to her, and then followup with a playful buttsmack and a cocky “And let’s keep your ass that way”.

Option two, the playful invalidation, is perfect for women in their prime. The most sexually valuable women (age: 15 – 25, BMI 17 – 23) will toss out SDSTs for one reason only — to test your alpha mettle. They crave the non-standard response, and will light up if you exaggeratedly agree with them. A couple of caveats: One, don’t try this if you haven’t yet mastered the art of spite-free teasing. I’ve seen too many hard-up men look to teasing banter as the holy grail of game, only to fumble during the execution as their years of bitterness bubble to the surface, polluting their body language and subtext with the stink of beta. Two, don’t playfully invalidate a girl who is as bad as, or worse than, her self-deprecating remarks. If a fat chick says “I’m too fat”, then a teasing “Oh yeah, you’re HUGE like well-fed walrus” will crush her soul, no matter how obvious your eyeroll. Unless your intention is to crush her soul. Not that I would condone such a thing. *angel halo*

Option three, tangential agreement, is the courtier’s sophisticated form of withering contempt. Sometimes the deepest cuts are made with the blade sheathed. Just a glint of the ivory handle will deliver the message. If you want to hurt a woman playing these SDST games, this is the way to go. I wouldn’t advise option three if you are trying to get in her pants, unless you suspect she is a masochistic chick who craves the loving ministrations of a straight up asshole. See: Any DC lawyer chick.

Option four, ignoring her, is a safe bet when you are stuck for words or caught off guard. It won’t wow her, but more importantly it won’t make you sound beta. For most men, that would be an accomplishment. Remember, too, that abruptly changing the subject is a perfectly reasonable ploy to shake off the rattle of an SDST. Abrupt subject changes may strike the male ear as inherently illogical and nefarious, but the female ear hears the world differently. An abrupt subject change is just an excuse for more YAY DRAMA. In fact, it is the prerogative of the alpha male to change subjects. Who else is gonna do it?

Option five, the reframe, is, as most of you have guessed, my personal favorite. Not only does it expertly shake off an SDST bomb, but it puts her on the defensive and let’s her know you don’t approve of such typical female game-playing. A woman on the defensive, cowering before a stronger and more willful man, is a woman crouched in tingle mode, ready to give birth to a womb-shaking orgasm. Which brings me to…

Roissy Maxim #83: Awareness of a woman’s games is a precision-guided weapon in a man’s arsenal of seduction. Slyly revealing your knowledge of a woman’s obstructive game tactics is like catnip to her pussy.

Roissy Maxim #83 is so effective simply because the great majority of men are ignorant of women’s game-playing. Insinuating to a woman playing such games that you know the score will help you stand out from the crowd of sauseeege. Having the balls to call out a woman on her games instead of lamenting about it to buddies during the post-pickup debriefing will earn you the admiration of feminists and normal, healthy women alike.

Filed under: Game, Girls

Why is Michelle Obama catching flak for saying that she’s careful about what she feeds her kids?

“We went to our pediatrician all the time,” Obama said. “I thought my kids were perfect — they are and always will be — but he [the doctor] warned that he was concerned that something was getting off balance.”

“I didn’t see the changes. And that’s also part of the problem, or part of the challenge. It’s often hard to see changes in your own kids when you’re living with them day in and day out,” she added. “But we often simply don’t realize that those kids are our kids, and our kids could be in danger of becoming obese. We always think that only happens to someone else’s kid — and I was in that position.”

Obama said the doctor suggested she first look at her daughters’ body mass index (BMI). The minor changes she subsequently made in their daily habits, Obama said, made all the difference.

Sounds perfectly reasonable. What could possibly offend about a mother making sure her kids don’t pig out on bad food and bloat up into something hideous? Heh. Never underestimate the lengths to which fat shits will waddle away from the truth with their porky sausage fingers stuck in their ears.

Some charge that Obama’s comments may be perceived as a focus on weight and dieting, which sends the wrong message to the public. The first lady should be discussing behavioral change, not weight loss, said Laura Collins Lyster-Mensh, an eating disorder activist and executive director of Families Empowered and Supporting Treatment of Disorder (F.E.A.S.T.).

“We’ve confused health and weight in a way that’s very confusing for children and very confusing for parents,” Lyster-Mensh said. “When we speak publicly about putting our children on a diet, we start to get into weight stigma and confusing the message to families.”

Hey lardulous, weight stigma is a GOOD THING. In fact, many stigmas are good things when they encourage people to feel bad about their wretched conditions and do something to improve themselves. For instance, right now I’m stigmatizing you as a fat, smelly lesbian. Luckily, you can do something about the first two problems.

The focus on obesity, Lyster-Mensh said, turns this into an issue of appearances, which does not bode well for children, especially girls.

Point one: Appearance matters. It is not a social construct that can be willed or legislated away. Cruel human judgment of others based on appearance is an eternal reality of living in this dimension. You may not like it, but reality is never gonna bend to accommodate your tender feelings, so either get with the program and shape up or sink into a silo of snickers bars ticking down the useless remaining years of your fat, foreshortened life. Point two: Never take seriously a woman with a hyphenated multiplicity of surnames.

“There is simply no reason to be pushing children into weight reduction diets and that’s the message parents out there get,” Lyster-Mensh said. “Dieting is a gateway drug to eating disorders for those with a biological predisposition to eating disorders.”

It’s an impressive feat to pack so much self delusion into one quote, but this banshee has managed it. She sounds like the type of nutjob who thinks porn is a gateway drug to serial killing. One thing we do know for sure, though — crashing the buffet table is a gateway drug to ugly cottage cheesy thighs and neck rolls. If you’re going to do gateway drugs, at least stick with the drugs that not only make you feel good, but look good as well.

The president then spoke about what he and the first lady did to balance their daughters’ diet, and the impact “was so significant that the next time we visited our pediatrician he was amazed.”

Even then, critics panned the president for commenting on the weight of Sasha, who is now 8 years old.

A lot of the little Latino kids that live in DC are roly poly beachballs. I’ve seen toddlers who looked like they swallowed a keg. Starch bombs! Early intervention is always best.

Some say parents talking about their daughters’ weight can have a harmful impact on young girls.

What’s more harmful to young girls — a) telling them to watch what they eat so they don’t get fat, or b) sitting idly by as they do get fat? Of the two groups of girls (A and B) which group is more likely to marry well, have healthy children, and generally be happier about their lot in life?

“One of the things I’ve noticed is that a lot of girls develop an eating disorder because they don’t want criticism from their parents,” said Jeanne Sager, a reporter who blogs on parenting Web site babble.com, and who, herself, suffered from an eating disorder.

Congratulations, lawyers, you’ve been supplanted! “Reporters” are the new filth of the universe. Their rancid wrongheaded ideology has so warped their thinking that the institution of journalism is now neck deep in the choking pigshit of postmodern platitudes and perpetual lies.

“As a public figure, I think Mrs. Obama wanted people to be able to relate to her experiences and I’m sure she was unaware… that some of those messages could be taken in an unhealthy way,” Lyster-Mensh said. “I am not a critic of the Obamas’ approach to healthy behavior with their kids. I am concerned about weight-based language because it’s demonstrably, scientifically not helpful.”

“Weight-based language”. It just gets better and better. If you scold your kid for getting an F in algebra, is that “merit-based language”? What about breaking and entering? “Law-based language”? Pissing in your face? “Manners-based language”? Looks to me like Michelle Obama is being a good mother, and that’s what really chafes your dingelberried hippo hide.

Now, Michelle, hon, babe. You need to apply your good sense to your own super supple backside. That purple SOTU dress was not flattering. Double wide? 100% true.

Filed under: Current Events, Hungry Hungry Hippos

Most horny women will never come right out and ask for sex from their lovers. You will not often hear “Let’s fuck NOW!” or “Do you want to bang?” from your girlfriend, or from many women you are dating throughout your lifetime. A few raunchy broads of questionable virtue will take the initiative dominatrix-style, and you will be pleased by their efforts, but all in all most normal men prefer the coyness of women who relinquish themselves to sex instead of demand it. Truth is, ladies, we find it adorable.

A woman’s need to feel physically desired is stronger than her need for food and shelter on the Vajlovian hierarchy of values. Thus, women tend to avoid outright asking for sex, even when explosively horny, because it sidesteps entirely their prime directive to passively arouse the male to action. But oh how their tingles itch for relief! And so women have devised a complicated system of sexual hints and innuendo that would make a French aristocrat blush with envy. I continue coming across numerous examples of just such scandalous whisperings from the women I meet in my life.

• The Human Meow. This is where a woman will make cute animal noises, similar to bird chirps or meows, to indicate her desire for sex. They will often sound like “Mmm? MmmMMMmmm?” with upturned eyebrows, as if waiting for you to clue in. Naturally, all systems women use to communicate their wish for sex must adhere to the first rule to maintain plausible deniability. So if you call a woman out on her human meows she will deny with the sort of ingenious excuses that so seamlessly blend reality and fantasy. To wit: “If you want sex baby, you could just say so instead of meowing like a hungry cat.” Her: “I was asking if you’d like to make us some green tea!”
• The Telepathic Sex Stare. Half-lidded, lips imperceptibly parted, you wonder if she’s doing an end run around your consciousness and making a direct connection with your hindbrain. Women rarely win staring contests, except when they want sex. Or when they’re accusing you of cheating.
• The Symbolic Suggestion. When a woman suggests “Let’s have the red wine instead of beer” or “Let’s move to the bedroom, it’s sunnier in there” or “Let’s light the candles to save electricity”, it means “Let’s have sex”. “Let’s flush the toilet after a leaving behind a giant deuce” does NOT mean “Let’s have sex”. Learned that the hard way.
• The Unprompted Shoe Removal. Here’s an important tip, gentlemen. When you have brought a girl back to your place or you have gone to hers, pay close attention to how soon she removes her shoes. If she takes hers off quickly upon settling in, you have good chance for intimacy.
• The “Wow, I could use a backrub” Bonk Over The Head. This one is obvious. When she starts rubbing her neck and complaining about her hard day at work, it is NOT your cue to give her an extended backrub that hurts your hands. It IS, however, your cue to give her a two second shoulder grasp, followed immediately by a cupping of her tits from behind. Note: Longtime married men should take into consideration that the wife would really prefer the backrub to sex. Sorry, hubbies. Shoulda listened to me.
• The Aunt Jemima Channeling. Pancakes are no fun without Aunt Jemima’s. “Do you know what would really go great with this new king-sized bed we just bought?” Don’t wait for an answer. She’s not giving it.
• The Snake Hiss. When you come up behind her to scratch her head or briefly rub her shoulder, she’ll inhale an exaggerated hissing sound of pleasure — SSSSSSssssssss — that means she wants more. A lot more.
• The Campbell’s Soup Song. Give your woman a kiss. After the kiss, if she’s still leaning forward with half-closed eyes and saying something like “Mm mm mm, that was good” you can translate that as “Mm mm mm, I need a deep sea drilling.”
• And finally, one of my personal favorites: The “I’m Horny” State of the Union Address. When a girl is superhorny and she just doesn’t have the patience for subtler means of communicating her arousal, she will sometimes stare blankly into space and announce, unceremoniously and without untoward inflection to no one in particular, “I’m horny”. She will say this with a hint of exasperation even, but she will never say it to you directly, even if you are standing one foot in front of her. In that case, she will turn her head 90 degrees to the left and declare her horniness to an invisible audience of psychotherapists. Under no circumstance should you respond “You are?” This will kill her horniness faster than a weeping beta with a microchub. Don’t grab her right away either. Wait a minute to grant her a plenury indulgence from her brazen suggestiveness, and then pounce. Skip foreplay. You’ll discover upon first grasp an angry swollen river of passion already swallowing your kayak whole.

Filed under: Girls, Ridiculousness

On January 21st, I wrote the following in this post:

Tiger Woods may not be a model citizen, but neither does he have an emotional or psychological problem. […] If Woods has a problem, it’s that he got married. Big mistake, chief.

On January 28th, John Mayer said the following in an interview with the UK paper The Independent:

“Tiger Woods’ problems come from him being married. The end,” Mayer said to the U.K.’s The Independent newspaper. “If Tiger Woods was single and he texted a girl and said ‘I wanna wear your ass like a hat’, why would that ever hit the news?”

There’s no date when the actual interview took place, but I bet John Mayer is a Roissy reader. Welcome aboard John. Good to see you heeding my advice and staying far away from marriage. I admit I laughed a little when you squeezed out the last drops of Jennifer Aniston’s precious years, and then played Lucy moving the football with the engagement ring. Stay single.

Filed under: Vanity

A dozen readers have emailed me these two articles about the state of American women and their marriage prospects. One even breathlessly asked if this “disproves the Roissy worldview”. Leaving aside for the moment the oddity of terming a keen grasp of reality as approximating something close to a “worldview”, I had a curious look at the articles. Both articles were written by women (*cough* lesbians *cough*) who don’t much like the recent cultural trend imploring American women to mind the wall and settle for Mr. Good Enough before it’s too late.

Want to Be Happily Married? Go to College.
New research shows women with degrees are luckier in love.

[…] “Marriage rates in the U.S. for college-educated women have risen enormously since the 1950s,” Stevenson said. “In 1950, less than three quarters of white college-educated women went on to marry by age 40 [compared with 90 percent of high-school graduates]. But today, 86 percent marry by age 40, compared with 88 percent of high-school grads.”

Another way of stating this is that by age 40, it continues to be the case in 2010 that more high school-educated women than college-educated women get married. The problem with this study’s conclusions are twofold. One, very few women were attending college in the 1950s. When a huge rate increase is experienced, as in the case of women attending college in the 1950s versus 2010, you run into problems with outlier bias. That small cohort of women going to college in 1950 may have been disproportionately lesbian or ugly or socially maladroit. Trendsetters normally have something odd about them which sets them apart from conventional society, as would be similarly the case for those trailblazing emo dudes who first stormed the vaj walls of formerly female-only colleges like Vassar.

Two, “marriage by age 40″ is a poor metric. By age 40, most women’s shelf lives have expired. Thus, all you are measuring is a bunch of overeducated women who delayed marriage to men they truly desired and were forced to settle for a schlump once their looks began the cruel fade in earnest.

Of course, expectations have changed dramatically in the last half century. “In the 1950s, a lot of women thought they needed to marry right away,” Coontz said. “Real wages were rising so quickly that men in their 20s could afford to marry early. But they didn’t want a woman who was their equal; they wanted a woman who looked up to the man. Men needed and wanted someone who knew less.” In fact, she said, research published by sociologist Mirra Komarovsky in 1946 documented that 40 percent of college women admitted to playing dumb on dates. “These days, few women feel the need to play down their intelligence or achievements,” Coontz said.

Maybe I missed the goldmine of statistical inference, but where is the countervailing research showing that “these days, few women feel the need to play down their intelligence or achievements”? Some of these people write as if they haven’t been on a date in ten years. I can tell you that, yes, educated women continue to play down their educational credentials, if not directly then indirectly by avoiding talking about them in favor of interrogating the man about his credentials. This is the case even when their credentials and accomplishments pale in comparison to mine. It is the nature of women to want to look up to a stronger man.

The new research has more good news for college grads. Stevenson said the data indicate that modern college-educated women are more likely than other groups of women to be married at age 40, are less likely to divorce, and are more likely to describe their marriages as “happy” (no matter what their income) compared with other women.

Options means instability. At 40, a woman has fewer options in the mating market, and so she is less likely to be tempted to leave a marriage for a better prospect, or even a different prospect. It is no surprise then, that divorce rates are lower for couples who got married later in life. If you want marital success (I hesitate to call it happiness) then the key is to limit your options. The human rationalization hamster, punch drunk on fermented sour grapes, will then rev up and provide all the excuses you need for maintaining the illusion of marital accord. It’s funny how quickly a lack of choice can render a less than stellar life situation immediately and palpably bearable. “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be”.

The marriages of well-educated women tend to be more stable because the brides are usually older as well as wiser, Stevenson said.

And uglier.

“When a man with only a high school degree marries by age 20, there’s a 49 percent chance that he will be divorced within 10 years,” she said. “Compare that with the man who gets married in his mid-30s who has a college degree. Ninety percent will still be married 10 years later.”

Time for a game-approved reframe! “When a man with only a high school degree marries a coed hottie by age 20, there’s a 49 percent chance that he will be divorced within ten years, because his sperm and her eggs are itching to dive back into the sampler platter before their windows of opportunity close. Compare that with the college-educated man who gets married in his mid-30s to a mangy cougar on the prowl. Ninety percent will still be married ten years later, because no one else will have them.”

See how illuminating the social sciences can be?

College-educated couples are also more likely to marry for companionship and love and compatibility rather than for financial security.

Translation: College-educated women who delay marriage no longer bring the goods to the table to snag an alpha suitor. College-educated men who marry one of these older college-educated women for lack of options have willed themselves to believe compatibility is an acceptable substitute for hot and sexy babealicious looks.

“For women, financial stability used to be the most important reason for marriage,” she said. “Today, educated women are a lot less concerned about how much their husband earns,” she said, and more interested in whether “he is willing to share child care and housework.”

Keep telling yourself that, sister. To all the men reading this: For the unholy love of the great biomechanical machine in the sky, do not ever allow yourself to listen to women and become a kitchen bitch. That’s a one way ticket to marital oblivion.

Over the last half century, more women and men have been putting off marriage, and the group of women who have never been married at age 40 has grown over time.

This to me seems the most relevant factor in discussions of marriage and divorce rates.

But even among this group, Stevenson said, college grads who want to get married eventually have an advantage because they are  “twice as likely to marry in the next 10 years” as unmarried 40-year-olds with just a high-school degree.

If a beta chump is forced to settle for a past-prime 40 year old woman, it makes sense he would at least find an employed woman who isn’t going to suck him dry with her paint huffing habit. And let’s face it, most of the women in the “unmarried 40-year-old with just a high school degree” group are likely single moms towing around a broodclan of bratty snotnosed ingrates. College-educated spinsters at least have had the decency to refrain from blasting out their wombs with the multiple spawn of past lovers and foisting the product on the schmoes she’s resigned herself to dating.

The data also point to significant racial differences. While white women with college degrees are slightly less likely to marry than their less-educated sisters, a different scenario emerges among African-American women. Today, 70 percent of black college-educated women marry by age 40, compared with 53 percent of those who never finished high school. In the 1950s, black college-educated women were much less likely to marry than those with less education. “What all this tells me is that our perceptions lag behind the reality of our time,” Stevenson said. “College-educated women have been closing the gap very steadily.”

Gee, funny that they left this part out until the very end of the article. So college-educated white women – you know, the type of woman who reads articles in Slate and Newsweek — are less likely to marry than uneducated white women, and that the biggest reason for the change in overall marriage rates of college-educated women is the rapid increase in marital rates of educated black women. I think there’s a story here.

So if you’re looking for another reason to encourage a young woman to get her college degree, add this one to the list: chances are, you’ll be luckier in love.

Not quite, unless by “luckier in love” she means “luckier despite love”.

Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Culture, Marriage Is For Chumps, Ugly Truths

Perceptive readers should be able to figure out which of these two movies I would give a Best Picture Oscar to. It would be a sweet jab in Cameron’s eye if his ex-wife won for her much better movie Hurt Locker. Avatard, despite its billion dollar plus haul, is a typical bloated CGI-fest with stilted crappy dialogue, a cliched plot, 2D acting, and a stale retread late 60s noble savage ideology masking a wish fulfillment for the world to turn into dinner parties featuring Sidney Poitier as the guest of honor. The Hurt Locker, by contrast, cost a lot less to make and was infinitely more gripping. I wonder if Cameron could see the irony in making a technologically wiz-bang movie that extolled the virtue of living nobly amongst the roots of a giant tree.

Ways that Avatar sucked:

1. $500 million to make and you couldn’t find a decent writer? Fo real? Throw me a few thou and I’ll spice up that dialogue so fast it’ll have moms covering their children’s ears and Roger Ebert jizzing in his pants with giddy excitement. Cameron has said he didn’t want to “alienate” his audience with tricky intellectual dialogue. If he’s right, then that says nothing good about the taste of the modern movie-going audience. We are morphing into a land of lowest common denominator retards. Hollywood’s current mission to make blockbusters as accessible as possible to all the riff raff across the globe isn’t helping matters either. Perhaps a little paleocon isolationism would do wonders for Hollywood’s artistic quality. If he’s wrong, then it says something about James Cameron — namely, that as a true blue nerd, he has a tin ear for good writing and doesn’t much give a shit either. Who could blame him when people are throwing money at his dreck?
2. The “white man bad, white American military man badder” theme has been done to death, Cameron old boy. It’s not any more ingenious or convincing when told through the use of computer generated blue faces. Have you looked in a mirror lately? When you do, do you get depressed that you were even born? Guilt is such a useless emotion, but it’s downright caustic when the guiltridden attempt to foist their purile emotions onto everyone else.
3. The supposed visual and creative brilliance of the N’avi and their home planet is overblown. The creatures are touched up extras from Jurassic Park and the airborn islands are straight outta various sci-fi lore and Dungeons and Dragons. The plants are neon. Yay. A great sign that a visual artist is creatively bankrupt is when he starts slapping on extra legs to all his creatures.
4. Cameron loves the hyperrealism of his expensive CGI, so why can’t he see that there is no way in hell a bunch of half naked warriors riding flesh and blood winged creatures armed with bows and arows are going to defeat heavily armored gunships? I like an underdog story as much as the next guy, but at least throw a bone to those of us who are working hard to suspend our disbelief.
5. People in the SWPL audience for this movie actually clapped appreciatively after the “preemptively fight terror with terror” line was delivered by the scarfaced badguy sergeant — quite possibly the stupidest and lamest line of dialogue I have heard in a movie since “I’m king of the world!”.

So why is Avatar making so much money? Well, it isn’t all bad. Visually, it is a sight. The CGI is such that I was able to enjoy the world onscreen without getting pulled out of it by any obvious-looking flaws in the rendering. The technology is now advanced enough to avoid the uncanny valley. The pacing and editing are good. Cameron, if nothing else, has a solid feel for action and storytelling, no matter how bad the source material. This is the guy who after all gave the world one of the greatest movies of all time — Terminator. (First of the series, only.) The slasher flic cum industrial atmosphere in Terminator was perfection.

You can’t discount marketing hype either. Avatar was marketed to death and that’s sometimes all it takes to get the money machine rolling for a subpar movie that otherwise might not have made that much. It’s similar to the game concept of preselection. A bunch of dudes hear about how great this movie is going to be, and they want to ride. Although from what I understand, adjusted for inflation Avatar’s box office is not as impressive as it sounds.

So here’s to Oscar success for The Hurt Locker and District 9, two movies superior in almost every way to Avatar.

Filed under: Culture, Current Events

the wall [thuh wawl] -noun: 1. a large, immovable monolith of frightening and awesome power capable of threshing egos and rending souls, serving as a metaphorical stoppage point at the intersection between a woman’s declining sexual attractiveness and her advancing years, beyond which female sexual desirability disappears into the misty void.

FuturePundit has a post up highlighting a scientific study which concludes, most depressingly, that by age 30 only 12% of a woman’s eggs remain.

Tom Kelsey, a Senior Research Fellow at the School of Computer Science at St Andrews, said, “Previous models have looked at the decline in ovarian reserve, but not at the dynamics of ovarian reserve from conception onwards. Our model shows that for 95% of women, by the age of 30 years, only 12% of their maximum ovarian reserve is present, and by the age of 40 years only 3% remains.

This is a surprise even to me. I knew there was a significant dropoff in female fertility by age 30, but I didn’t know it was this precipitous. I find this news depressing, because female fertility and sexual attractiveness closely parallel; allowing for a few lag years for the outer shell to catch up to the inner biology, the number of viable eggs a woman has remaining directly correlates with the number of years she has left as a highly coveted product on the sexual market. That is, when a woman has a full basket of eggs she is at her most beautiful. When she has dwindled to 50% eggs left, she is desireable to only half the men she was capable of attracting for short and, particularly, long term relationships when she was at her beauty prime. And when she is down to 3% eggs at age 40, she can only attract 3% of the men she used to attract for long term investment when she was peaking at, typically, age 20. And what’s worse, those 3% of men are the leftover omega dregs with no other options whom she turned down when she was a hotter commodity.

Personally, as a man who has no desire to have kids, the number of remaining eggs a woman has left is of no concern to me other than as an abstract matter. But a woman’s beauty is of paramount concern to me, and as such it would happen that, through the use of my infallible divining boner rod, my very selective screening procedures against women showing signs of physical decay would necessitate that I avoid dating women with less than 50% eggs in their basket. So far, this is how it has worked out, and I’ve mostly game and a devilish smile to thank for that.

This saddens me. Why? I will explain. Anything, any uncontrollable force, that strips beauty from the world is my enemy. How much grander and pleasurable life if women stayed beautiful for 100 years instead of a precious 15 years? How much love would my heart shout at the world if the pool of beautiful women was every woman, everywhere, forevermore, and not just a small sliver of women with power so fleeting it may as well be a curse than a blessing? Imagine this world, and tell me then how you keep the demons of hate from lashing impudently and futilely against the natural order of things. I say fuck the natural order. Bring on the life and beauty extending tamperings of human ingenuity. Get off your knees, you limp-noodled gaiaists and blithely stoic servants of religion, you philosophical naifs and self-deluded sophists. Turn the tables and bring your evolutionary inheritance to its knees, if you dare.

More evidence for the wall comes from a Japanese study showing that there is a real “tipping point” in aging, or a “hitting the wall” effect, where a woman’s natural biological ability to rejuvenate herself and stay toe to toe with the ravages of aging slips into freefall at age 35, much younger than previously thought.

‘While some measurements showed a gradual decline, cheek volume – one of the key factors in a youthful appearance – can drop off suddenly, by as much as 35 per cent in a year,’ he says.

Naturally, there are some women whose stress-inducing lives of stripping, smoking, slutting, and single motherhood age them much faster than their actual years. These are truly tragic cases, for they have thrown away their most precious asset for instant gratification.

In other news, the new HBO documentary “Youth Knows No Pain” was pretty good. A number of the women interviewed were boldly honest about their declining sexual attractiveness, and the reasons for why they went under the knife to “get a little work done”. One woman even noted that when her friends told her there are plenty of women who look good for their age, like Sophia Loren, she responded that Sophia Loren is just one woman out of millions who “don’t look so good when they get older”. Found: A woman with a grasp of basic statistical concepts. Alert the media!

Most of the women in the documentary looked like alien-eyed stretchy gumbo toys, but a couple did actually look pretty good, at least ten years younger than their ages. At some point, the science is going to have to dispense with the scalpel and start rejuvenating under the hood, fixing the problem at its source using stem cells or some other form of cellular manipulation. I can’t wait for matrix-like abortion mills to be constructed to help my harem stay young and sexy for as long as possible.

Filed under: Hitting The Wall, Ugly Truths

Do you think I am the first to notice that a significant number/sizeable minority/secret majority of women get turned on when a man hits them?

Heh. No. Here’s a little ditty by The Crystals, an all women singing group, circa early 1960s:

Thanks to reader Luke Stiles for sending me this link.

And to all you piously indignant losers and pantywaist nancyboys with your skirts over your heads who can’t handle the truth… take it up with the ladies. They were singing about the dark recesses of female desire long before I ever arrived on the scene.

In the voice of that squat little lady from Poltergeist: This truth is gleaned.

Filed under: Love, The Id Monster, Ugly Truths

Every once in a while, when I sense the white knighting idealism beginning to take a stronger toehold on the thinking of some of my readers, I like to offer helpful reminders about the true nature of the creatures they are doomed to forever misunderstand.

In today’s special edition, a Seattle 19 year old pimp legally named Deshawn Cashmoney Clark was convicted for running a prostitution ring (hat tip: reader Master Dogen). This is not the most humorously banal angle of the story, though. No, the really SHOCKING, HEAVEN FORFEND surprise is how his harem of hookers is sticking by this uber-asshole’s side.

When that teen left the area in early 2008, Clark took up with a then-15-year-old girl he’d also met while attending school in West Seattle.

The two had been dating for several months when Clark propositioned her, demanding that she “walk the track” on Pacific Highway South and solicit payment for sex. While she did so, Clark would monitor her earnings by cell phone.

“If he felt that she was taking breaks unnecessarily, he yelled at her to get back out on the track and make him some money,” O’Donnell said in court documents. “At the end of each day, he returned to pick her up and took the money she had earned.”

The girl had run away from home while working for Clark, O’Donnell told the court. In one instance, the girl’s mother believed she had located her daughter. Instead, she found Clark, who, with a smile, issued her a warning.

“You will never find her,” Clark said, according to court documents. “I’ve got her so tight. She’s all mine.”

That girl — tattooed in Clark’s honor with the words “daddy’s little girl” — continued to support Clark throughout his trial, even as he married another woman.

Cashmoney wasn’t bluffing. He had her locked down, because she *wanted* to be locked down by him. This is a revelation about the female mind that escapes the logical thinking of so many men — why would a woman want to be with a man like Cashmoney? Why would any woman willingly offer herself as a rentable hole to a man hawking her goods to streetside bidders? Because women want to submit to a powerful man. Whether that power comes in the form of a crooning emo rock star, a CEO, or a pimp daddy with fists of fury doesn’t matter. All that matters is the male power, and the tingly feeling of submitting – wholly, completely – to that power. Every woman, deep DEEP inside, wants to be “daddy’s little girl”.

One admitted pimp and Street Mobb member, Mycah Johnson, described learning how to manipulate and intimidate young women from Clark.

“‘Cash’ showed me how to be a pimp,” Johnson wrote the court. “He would tell me where I should have (her) work and would explain how to use Craigslist to post her ads. He told me how to manage (her), specifically with respect to the money she earned — I was to keep all of it.”

Betas everywhere would do well to read the life stories of pimps. They have some useful advice. Naturally, the anti-game crowd will squawk “oh but these women were being manipulated!” They love that word manipulate. Cling to it like a newborn chimp to its mother’s furry belly. So much can be dismissed for consideration by shotgunning that word “manipulation” into any conversation about men and women they find distasteful. Unfortunately for them, it isn’t as readily dismissible as all that. Like hypnosis, you can only manipulate those who are manipulable. Those who, at some level, wish for the manipulation because they enjoy it. It is for this reason that the term manipulation is next to useless — apply a broad enough definition and you indict any goal-oriented communication as “manipulation”. Seduction? Manipulation. Sales? Manipulation. Politics? Manipulation. Convincing a buddy to see a great movie you just saw? Manipulation. No, Cashmoney’s honeys craved his manipulation. It TURNED THEM ON. How would he and his brethren pimps otherwise know how to “handle” women in the prime of their marketability? He knew because the evidence was staring him in the face — women who would fall for him, screw him, defend him, and yes… even love him.

The cries of “manipulation” ring louder. “Those women didn’t know what was happening to them!”, they will scream. Right-o. Funny thing is, the world is full to brimming with lovelorn betas attempting to manipulate women into sex and running headlong into a major road blockage. Their manipulations aren’t working. Some manipulations are clearly more effective than other manipulations. And which ones would those be? Well, the manipulations that turn women on!

Addressing North, defense attorney Alfoster Garrett, Jr., argued that, while his client profited from prostituting the teens, they were willing participants in the scheme.

Describing Clark as a “scapegoat,” Garrett noted that his client was 16 or 17 during at the time he was accused of prostituting the other youths.

This is one of those few times I agree the defense attorney has it exactly right. What else do you call an employee of Clark’s who cheers him on in court except a willing participant in his lifestyle and chosen career? Who you gonna believe, your lying eyes or a bunch of sociology trained femtards? It’s time to reform the law. Yes, as ringleaders and the administers of violence, pimps are more culpable than their whores, but whores share some of the blame. A fair justice system would punish all parties involved.

While he their circumstances may have made them susceptible to the pimp, Clark’s upbringing set him on a path to crime.

“He is a product of his environment,” Garrett said, asking that Clark receive an exceptionally short sentence.

Actually, his genes set him on his path of procuring limitless loyal poon. His environment only greased the skids.

North rejected the contention that the teens’ former involvement in prostitution evidenced a desire to continue in that life.

“I don’t find that the victims were willing participants,” North said. “It’s a complex relationship not unlike a domestic violence situation.”

Paging Rihanna. Still nurture pangs of love for your past lover Chris Brown, don’t you babe? I know, I understand. Roissy is here. No judgment. Pour out your heart. I won’t bite. Much.

North’s decision to impose the 17-year term followed a plea by Clark’s 19-year-old wife, Julata Clark.

Julata Clark, who gave birth to Deshawn Clark’s second child weeks before he was sentenced, said her husband is young and able to change his life.

The hilarity train keeps on rolling. Hey, Cashmoney had family values. The guy got married! Gotta love a wife with two kids storming court to support her husband’s pimping, carousing, and general assholery to the nth degree.

And society’s gotta love that this guy, at the ripe age of 19, already pumped out a couple of spawn while MBA toting 30 year olds examine their stock portfolios to gauge whether now is the right time to have that first autistic, underweight baby.

A parting thought. Owing to the rank stupidity or, more generously, the willful misinterpretation, of a minority of my readers who can’t wrap their minds around the simple concept of is-ought and who fervently believe (or secretly wish) my posts detailing in loving glory how much chicks dig jerks is tantamount to advocating every man set himself on the path of pimpdom, let me remind you that I am merely a courier of reality. I tell you how it is; what you do with that knowledge is up to you. The Pimp’s Way holds much truth about the nature of women in their fertile prime from which the average law-abiding man can personally benefit, but that truth does not need to come delivered in the same package to be effective in your own lives. You grasp the truth, and then you apply it to yourself and your dealings with women in the way that is most congruent with your values.

And to the all-too-predictable choir of cliche-spouters: No shit not *every* woman likes assholes. Do I need to put that addendum after every fucking sentence I write, or are you capable of discerning the all too obvious subtext? Here are my thoughts on the phenomenon of chicks digging jerks:

• Like most things about human nature, the female asshole-loving urge runs along a bell curve. To the far left we have women who would have nothing to do with assholes. To the far right we have Cashmoney’s honeys. Bunched in the middle are most women, who despite their protestastions to the contrary get tingly for an asshole, but won’t see it all the way to shacking up with a pimp.
• So many overaged yentas write to me telling me indignantly how they despise assholes and would never do what the girls featured in my posts do. I don’t have reason to doubt them… much, but I would remind them that the types of women who are most fond of assholes are exactly those women men most desire – that is to say, the young, supple babes with sex in their eyes and femininity in their souls. As women age out of attractiveness, they also (coincidentally!) age out of their attraction for assholes. Which brings me to…
• Roissy Maxim #71: In their sexual primes women’s attraction for assholes is at its strongest. You can catch a lot of hungry flies with honey, but shit attracts the most well-fed flies.

Tune in next week for another edition of “WOW, that’s news to me!”

Filed under: Current Events, Girls, The Id Monster, Ugly Truths

A reader (name withheld) sent me a field report of his experience with a girl who continued playing the field while dating him.

Women love to think they are one of a kind, not predictable, and far too complex for labels. Well they are predictable. In fact this makes a great neg.

I believe men put greater weight in someone’s words than women.  It is a sign of character and respect for a man to look someone in the eyes, shake hands and hold to his word.  I have never observed a woman bragging about keeping her word or standing on the principle of something she has said. Women are wordsmiths. This of course is an Achilles heel when dealing with women. Strip away the words though and the message is surprisingly clear.

Case in point, my last fling.  Part of her ‘routine’ is a sweet country girl with old fashioned morals. *Snark*  I met her buying her furniture.  She was selling everything she owned to move in with her boyfriend 5 states away. A little teasing, a few texts and a phone call got her to meet for a glass of wine. Two dates later the move was off and I was on.

Her relationship history was an instant red flag but she was a little hottie. She had her game down and knew what spin to feed guys. She walked the walk too, at least for the first month or so. I ended up making a few notes to keep my head straight.  This ended up turning into a relatively sophisticated relationship analysis tool. I paced the relationship, graded along several lines,  listed red flags and kept an ongoing synopsis and commentary on her. Most importantly I only considered her actions.

At times I would open my file on her and not really like what I saw.  This usually happened after a good F* . But I’d reread all the supporting details and I was back on Earth, eyes open.  I suspected she had Low Self Esteem and I have been down this road. Little details solidified this after only a few weeks.  I knew it wouldn’t last.

Sure enough a couple of S* Tests surfaced.  I suspected they involved affirmation from other eligible guys. After icing her for a couple of days, she wanted to meet and “talk”, mid-day.  I preempted her little talk with the precious words “I think we are thinking the same thing”. This totally rattled her. Guys don’t break up with her!  I  told her I could tell she wasn’t taking herself off the market yet expected me to. This was the story  my “analysis” told me.  Of course I was completely way off base, nothing of the sort was true, how dare I have her figured out! hmmff.

Sure enough it later came out she did have a date with some guy the same week as the [shit test].  Years ago I would have been blindsided and confused. I doubt I would have put it all together beforehand. I probably would have given credit to her improvised rationalizations when the reality was a plain as the C stains on last weeks sheets.  I didn’t do everything perfect.  I went off on her when she revealed what she was up to. I should have just snickered and ask her for her Truffle recipe.  But I did see it coming. I was bummed for about 6 hrs till I went to sleep. It was fun while it lasted. The next morning  though I had a perma-grin knowing I pegged her in more ways than one.

Message to my brothers: Understand you’ll probably flounder in the emotional soup that pervades female cognition. You likely give too much weight to her words so turn them off.  Her actions say it all.  Hone in on them and you may even be able to predict her next slutty thought.

PS. Wish I’d have read your Ex-girlfriend how-to.  I would love to have set the table for a rebound.

I like the idea of keeping a mental checklist of a woman’s red flags. In fact, I would go one step further and jot down in a small notebook all the red flags as they appear. This serves two purposes. One, as the reader above wrote, it keeps your head on straight and out of the clouds. Continual reminders of women’s bestial natures is the raw alchemical agent for long-lasting, healthy relationships, should you choose to go that route. Obviously, red flag number one was her decision to dump a man she was about to move in with for a man she met in a furniture store.

Two, keeping a red flag journal (RFJ) will illuminate with crystal clarity where you need to make adjustments on the fly to keep the sex coming, or where you went wrong if the relationship ended in a breakup. It’s a truism that jotting thoughts down in writing will have much more impact on your thinking processes and subsequent actions than storing those observations in your memory bank. A red flag journal will give a man tremendous leverage in any dating scenario, as it will strip away any beta rationalizations he may be tempted to wallow in, and it will also serve as a learning tool for future girls. Because as we all know by now, most women are pretty much alike in their natures, save for the adorable embroidery.

“I think we are thinking the same thing.” I liked this response from the reader as a preemptive action, but he would have been better off following up without mentioning that he knows she’s not taking herself off the market. That is a subtle demonstration of lower value on his part. He is tacitly implying that he’s not good enough to keep her off the market. Instead, he should have simply accused her of wanting to keep *him* off the market. That would have been adequate to cause her to veer wildly off her breakup script and into a defensive crouch where gina tingles are born.

Anyone else notice how girls will attempt to schedule breakup talks at midday? Well, at least those girls who aren’t breaking up through email or the silent treatment. (A majority of women, for reasons probably having to do with the female proclivity for that most milquetoasty of values known as “closure”, prefer to do their breaking up face to face.) If a girl ever says she wants to meet for a “talk” at a midday hour, my advice to you: Don’t respond at all. Don’t give her the satisfaction. A non-response also paves the way for continued sex as her breakup initiation sequence will be forced on indefinite hold. As I’ve written before, it’s all about hand. He/she who holds hand, dictates the direction and pacing of the relationship. And we’d all rather be the dictators than the dictated.

If there’s one lesson men should take from my blog, it’s this: Scrutinize what she does, not what she says. This one lesson, above all others, will never fail you. It will serve you well until your last days. As far as generalizations go, this one is about as rock solid as an established scientific theory. An amusing irony of life is that, despite women being blessed with a generally greater verbal faciliity than men, their words falling from their lips are gossamer lightweight and amorphously empty, devoid of intention and brimming with obfuscation and misdirection. Refuse to dance on her spinner’s web and the power is all yours. And chicks dig power.

Posted in Dating, Girls

Generally, most pickup instructors teach men the importance of remembering to smile on the approach. Their thinking is simple: Girls prefer the company of smiling men, because a man who is smiling is showing that he has what he wants in life. In reductionist terms, he’s advertising his worth as a provider and broadcasting his positive emotional state as a man who, the woman is likely to assume, gets his share of pussy. A woman’s hindbrain is more apt to label an impassive stone-faced man with the celibate loser scarlet L.

Examining my own successful pickups, I can recall not smiling much at all for at least half of them. Maybe a coy smirk, after introductions were made, but certainly my face was not shining brightly with the happy, smiley glow of a motivational speaker working the audience. I’ve always thought that the advice for men to smile was a bit overblown, but I could never put my finger on exactly why this is the case.

Now evidence has come out from OKCupid’s in-house blog team that smiling in profile pictures on their internet dating site is not the boon to men that many would think (link provided by reader Ben).

Men’s photos are most effective when they look away from the camera and don’t smile:

Maybe women want a little mystery. What is he looking at? Slashdot? Or Engadget?

My first thought is along the the same lines. Women do have a tingle for the international mystery man. This is why salesmen on the road score so easily. It’s the “expert from afar” phenomenon that women can’t resist. Possibly mixed in with a little of the ol’ subconscious desire for hybrid vigor. The problem for women, as is the curse of their mercurial gender, lies in the tension between two contradictory pulls that happens in their brains — women love dark mystery men but they also love happy, smiling, social men. What is a woman to do? The smiling social man and the mysterious brooding man are hardly ever occupied by the same man (although I have made an art of managing it). Judging by OKCupid’s data, the best course of action for a man who insists upon internet dating (it’s a sucker’s bet for the average man) is to post a picture of yourself staring intensely into the distance at the horizon. Or at a stripper just outside the picture frame. The girl looking at your profile pic will never know the difference.

While internet profile pics are only a simulation of real-life face to face interactions, the knowledge gleaned from internet messaging habits does help inform men what might work best in a nonvirtual scenario (what used to be known as “getting out of bed in the morning”). For instance, if you are going to play “serial killer stare her into submission” your best course of action is to leaven your hard stare with a flirty grin. But you’re much better off not making intense eye contact. If women prefer the man who looks preoccupied with something else besides her, then in a social situation you want to limit your pre-approach eye contact to the bare minimum (just enough to make it register with your target) and refrain from excessive smiling, if at all. You also want to look like your full attention is directed elsewhere, and that it requires a serious face. After all, a man’s business is serious. Always. With a heavily hooded sorcerer’s robe and the right lighting (stand over a floorlight) you can attract more than your fair share of curious women, then wow them with a surprise smile once she peeks under the hood.

So unlike the advice of a lot of pickup instructors, I say don’t smile at the girl when you are walking toward her. Don’t frown either, of course. Just a dab of deviousness will do ya.

There is a lot of interesting data mining at that post, so go ahead and read the whole thing.

Posted in Game, Psy Ops