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Archive for the ‘Foreign Girls’ Category

While peer reviewed, double blind, metafantastic research on the subject is hard to come by, there is a general consensus among men who have experience with women beyond licking their taints in the comments section of feminist blogs that the less attention whoring a woman the better candidate she is for a long-term relationship. The causal mechanism for this observed reality is theoretical at this point, but a reasonable proposition is that attention-craving women — like this one — have oversized egos which require constant external validation.

Women without this need for ego stroking from the betatariat and BFF choruses are, on the whole, more grounded and fulfilled with their private love lives. While they are just as attracted to desirable alpha males as any social media mistress who sells pieces of her soul to Instagram, the attention eschewing woman represents less risk as a long-term romantic investment, because her sexual and communal energy is more inward- than outward-directed.

What is a poosy paradise for most men? It is a place where, or a time when, the women are beautiful, sexually hungry, and also sexually faithful, with an eye toward long, loving relationships while they are still in their youthful primes. You can find these places by word of mouth, or by extensive travel. You can also narrow your search by collating online social media data by country and discovering where the women are least likely to whore for attention.

Probably the best data rich vein is Facebook. The average number of friends that a country’s (or a region’s) women have on Facebook is a pretty good indicator of the mean level of national attention whoring. Internet penetrance (heh) is broad enough in developed countries that fair comparisons between Facebook friend numbers can be made by country. (I suppose if you want to Game Africa, this comparison system will do you no good.)

Commenter corvinus writes,

But even your normal white American male of German-Irish-English descent has to contend with the fact that about one-third of women in their twenties are FAT, and the desirable women usually have several male orbiters and never have to worry about not having a boyfriend until they’re north of 35.

One thing I’ve noticed based on Facebook is that the hot American girls usually have over 500 “friends”, and very often over 1,000 (including plenty of frat boys that they’ve known for years and can pick from for their next boyfriend), whereas Eastern European girls tend to have only about 100 or so. I myself was never in a fraternity, and only became halfway socially adept after coming here a couple years ago, and I’m now into my early thirties. So I have a serious disadvantage as per social connections go.

Crack CH researchers trawled the net and found some social media data that helps clarify where in the world the worst attention whores reside. While the following graph isn’t separated by sex, it’s safe to assume the overall comparison is similar for both men and women across countries, even if there is a difference in average number of FB friends between the sexes within countries.

Within America, it should surprise no one that the attention whores congregate in the Northeast and Midwest, where careerist feminists and fat single moms predominate. The attention whoring in the South is probably driven by their large black population. Squinting a little, the attention whore map overlays fairly closely with the Red State-Blue State political map (especially the one that drills down to the county level, where racial political differences are more apparent). The big outlier would be the Pacific Northwest, where people take pride in their friendship selectivity.

Worldwide, Russia and Eastern Europe look like the places to be for pretty girls who don’t feel a delirious compulsion to hoard as many pretend friends as possible in an alternate virtual universe. And, again, this accords with personal experience: the EE chicks I’ve dated spent far fewer hours on Facebook per week than any American girl I’ve known.

Warm weather climates appear to be more Facebook friends-friendly, while cold weather climes the opposite. My guess is that this is a reflection of broad racial differences in temperament: K-selected, nuclear family people versus r-selected, social aggrandizing people. But there are plenty of exceptions to this rule.

In Europe, the Anglo countries don’t fair so well. Feminism was birthed in the Anglo crucible, and it is within the Anglosphere where the fruits of feminism and you-go-grrlism are most overripe. Five decades blowing buttercups up girls’ muumuus is bound to have a deleterious effect on their egos and need for infinite validation.

Beyond Eastern Europe, Japan looks like a good bet for finding women who avoid attention whoring. If you’re a white Western man, Japan is tailor-made for romantic adventure: feminine women with self-sustaining egos and men who go to bed with pillow girlfriends as competition. Just gotta get past those flat asses…

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Have you ever banged a woman you thought was impossibly hot, too hot for a mere peasant boy like yourself? Chances are, you haven’t. Most men don’t reach for the ass ring. Fear — and sometimes experience — cultivates an exquisite sense for one’s sexual rank, and an avoidance mentality that preempts rejection by sultry specimens thought to be “out of one’s league”.

But most men are not all men. A few warriors of the whiskered wound have banged out of their league, and lived to tell of the tail. Men with game will occasionally, maybe even often, bang women considered by the general population to be too beautiful for them. Other men will luck into an amazing fling with a superb hottie. Usually, some combination of fortuitous circumstance and seduction skill is the backdrop to a stunning mismatch between a regular guy and a boner fried bombshell.

In before the trick-less trolls and baffled haters hijack the substance of this post to nasalize their belief that men’s sexual value is judged by the same looks metric as women’s sexual value, let it be hammered into their blocklike skulls (again) that women judge a man’s mate worthiness by many measures, not least of which is his social value and his seductive savviness. So when we say that a man is shooting “out of his league”, we don’t necessarily mean the spectacle of a very ugly man with a beautiful woman (though it could mean that). We could also mean a man who compares favorably in the looks department with the woman he is dating, but who falls short in other equally important criteria. A good-looking but socially awkward nerd with a hottie is one such mismatch that strikes a discordant note on observers’ pattern-recognition tuning forks.

With that anti-hater disclaimer out of the way, we can move on to the meat and potatoes. Kai Peter Chang, a self-professed informal dating coach and boffer of beautiful babies, describes his experience dating what he figured (that’s the important qualifier) was a woman way out of his league.

Have you ever had the experience of getting a taste of a life light-years above your social class/station? 

Perhaps it’s being a guest at an extravagant $200,000 wedding thrown by a distant relative you barely know. All you can do is marvel at the gorgeous decor and decadent food you can never afford on your own.

Perhaps it’s a wealthy uncle/friend-of-a-friend who inexplicably allowed you take his $120,000 sports car for a spin around the neighborhood. All you can do is pray you don’t crash the car, or pop the clutch and embarrass yourself.

Perhaps you were summoned to an urgent work meeting that requires your presence thousands of miles away, and your employer authorized you to fly on the company jet (ordinarily reserved for its top executives). All you can do is fantasize about the day you’re powerful/rich enough to use a private jet for all your travel.

TL;DR: it’s like that – but involving the deepest part of sexuality and romance.

[A] number of years ago, I dated someone substantially “out of my league” for almost a year.

Her: a former Miss Hong Kong pageant gal, B-list actress/model/TVB television personality. In her prime, she was courted and pursued by the super-Alpha kings of Hong Kong: A-list movie stars, million-record-selling musicians, property tycoons, CEOs and power brokers at the apex of Hong Kong society.

Me: At the time, a Mergers & Acquisitions Analyst at an investment-banking firm – an easily-replacable cog in a financial behemoth, four years her junior. During that period, I commanded a low five-digit net worth, and no status to speak of. A nobody.

She told me afterward that she gave me her number because she was amused by the fact that I clearly didn’t recognize her; in Hong Kong, the only strangers who approach her are autograph-seekers and those who want to pose with her for a photo and I was utterly oblivious to her stature when I was flirting with her.

Nice neg.

It is also helpful to note that during this time, I was at still in first blush of youth – a few years out of college, filled with brazen and unrealistic cocky ambition of what I can accomplish, arrogant to the point of delusion, and impervious to feedback/advice.

I was also insecure as hell, and in complete denial about it.

With all that backdrop, the question was how did it feel as the “lesser” partner?

It was flattering, thrilling and unnerving all at once.

The more beautiful women you bed, the less unnerving (and thrilling, sadly) it becomes. You start to internalize the belief that you deserve them. This is the asshole’s secret of success.

Dating far above my station gave me a glimpse of the life that exists at a completely different strata of society. Growing up a son of broke-ass immigrant parents and attending public schools my entire life surrounded by others of modest immigrant socioeconomic background, the first thing that stood out was her nearly-unlimited access to favors and accouterments of her elevated station.

When you socialize with people who own spare yachts, faraway luxury properties and infrequently-used personal jets, you can cobble together an impromptu exotic vacation with a few phone calls. It will end up costing you little more than the price of a full tank of jet/yacht fuel and the promise of reciprocity of access to your own toys/properties at some unspecified future date.

I, of course, had nothing to offer in these types of trades – and that knowledge was a source of gnawing insecurity; while I was stupidly confident that I was just a few years/career moves away from joining the company of Hong Kong aristocracy on my own, my immediate financial circumstances were far more modest and I flew Coach to visit her, while she flew First Class or via private jet to rendezvous with me.

If you doubt your worth to a woman, she will feel compelled to agree with you. If you don’t doubt, neither will she.

The clandestine nature of our relationship (officially, she was the spoken-for consort of a powerful Hong Kong property tycoon two decades her senior and her lifestyle was bankrolled by his largesse) added a further element of illicit excitement; it was thrilling to be checking into hotels under fake names, arriving to locations at staggered times to avoid being seen together in public.

The sneaky fucker MO. It’s exciting because you know you’re getting something for free (outstanding pussy), that other men have to pay for in yachts and high society access.

In retrospect, I now understand what she meant when, right before the first time we slept together, she whispered in my ear “Please don’t fall in love with me.”

She was wiser and more pragmatic than I; she knew, better than I did at the time, the ephemeral nature of our doomed fling.

After several months of our relationship – which consisted writing letters to each other (she has a gorgeous, calligraphic handwriting and a wry playful prose that was a delight to read) and time-zone-spanning international phone calls, interspersed with week-long face-to-face rendezvous where we exhausted ourselves in hotel rooms in various locations along the Pacific rim, she tearfully confessed “Do you remember what I said to you that first night? I’m having a hard time following my own advice.”

It was as close as she could get to tell me she loved me, but it was clear that whatever we had would end someday.

Better to have loved a hottie and lost her, than to love a fug and keep her.

No doubt losing a pathway to high grade pussy is a blow to a man’s pleasure center, if not also his ego. But it was more dangerous for her to fall in love, because the nature of woman doesn’t allow for shared love between disparate men who offer her competing comforts beyond the wildest dreams of the average representative of her sex. She risked discovery, and the concomitant loss of feminine prestige and resources from her richer suitors. Truly beautiful women possess a degree of pragmatism that those who have little to lose can barely comprehend. Although if your charm is mesmerizing and your confidence imperturbable her love can bond her so tightly even the baubles of princes won’t steal her from your embrace.

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Although the source and scientific rigor of this graphic can’t be verified by crack CH gumshoes, it is interesting enough even in its vagueness and limitations to spur charmingly adolescent discussion about female beauty and its correlation with race and ethnicity. Take it for what it is, and assume some bias in the photo selection process that produced these averages of female faces from various nations. (No doubt the bias alluded is the surmise that the photoshopper is a white SWPL nerd deliberately choosing photo samples that minimize any uncomfortable racial disparities. Let’s face it (heh), it’s the way to bet nowadays.)

A few passing thoughts. First, for your social circuit approved elucidation, the Cathedral-sanitized thoughts are presented:

The sky is blue. Global warming is really bad. All women are beautiful the world over. There’s no such thing as absolute morality. Aren’t Republicans evil?

And now the unfiltered candor that fills the cheap seats is presented:

- As perhaps has been noted before on this blog and by numerous others, averaging the faces of multiple women appears to improve the looks of the final amalgam. The softening of asymmetrical protuberances and the converging toward the Golden Ratio can explain much of this phenomenon. However…

- The degrees of symmetry, softening and feminization in the female amalgams are not distributed equally among all population groups. While most of these women meet the minimum bangableness threshold for all but the most discerning (or Pointy Elbow Syndrome suffering) men, some clearly stand out as superior specimens of stiffy inspiration. As it seems is the usual in these international pulchritude comparisons, Ukraine, Russia and the Mediterranean minxes come out looking the best.

- In the general, the white women (where dey at? disappearing fast) have the edge over their historically geographically distant competition, but racial bias (a healthy and normal evolved human inclination which wouldn’t be so universally possessed were it not reproductively fitness enhancing, as the Peter Stone Cold Frosts of the world might quip) most certainly clouds accurate cross-racial comparison. Within the kernel of the seed of us men (and women) surely resides an incomprehensible, and barely comprehended, favoring for close encounters of the kin kind. It’s genetic continuity all the way down. That is, until a white woman is air-lifted into District 9. Then it’s a genetic hybridization orgy.

- The Dutch fused filly is mega hot. Those eyes, those eyes. They megaphonically telegraph “I am thinking about your rock hard cock driving itself into the chassis of my high church Nordic womb. The merest graze of my eddied upper lip on your proud exclamation will send you to spasms of molten release.” What her eyes do not say: “I bet you’re intimidated by my Masters in Third World Rebranding and my Tier 15 law school credential.” American women, take note.

- Asian chicks are overrated. But, they’e thin. And that’s where they close the gap with white women vis a vis the lustful longings of white men.

- The black African women outperform expectations. But, if most men had to choose…

- Sadly, no amount of averaging will rescue the Samoan girl from looking like an ugly ladyboy with a tribble on her head.

- A keen-eyed cad might mention that the averages of the women look epidermally lighter-toned than the everyday street versions he encounters on his travels around the globe. The South Indian girl, for instance, is a few color charts lighter skinned than the ones seen in photos of her countrywomen obliviously washing clothes in a fetid river transporting cow and human carcasses to their tenth lives as ants.

- French women may not be the world’s most beautiful, but CH proclaims them in the running for the world’s sexiest. Ween, ween, monsieur.

- What the graphic doesn’t tell us: The length of the tails of the beauty distribution for each represented country. Is the cute British girl, for example, close to the appearance of a randomly chosen young British woman, or is she the fuse of a lot of ugly Brit chicks averaged with a few super hot Moneypennys?

- Would have loved to see an Australian aboriginal average face included in this graphic. For the yuks, (entendre intended).

- The American woman amalgam is not represented. The frame was simply too small to fit her.

- The Brazil chick looks like every dirty porn star on the internet. Brazil should just rename itself to Pornistasia.

- Argentina is sitting on a Yankee candle.

- Peru has been wanting to get married since she was five.

- Burma: pedophile charges. Upside: you’ll always feel like you’re deflowering a virgin.

- Sweden is what too much feminism does to a woman’s looks.

- That Mexico chick? Yeah, 99.9999999% of Mexican border jumpers don’t look like her. So settle down open borders nutjobs.

- Irish girl is missing, which is too bad. Too bad for science, of course. One wonders (well, one with a juvenile curiosity wonders) if averaging would eliminate the famed jutting chin of the Emerald Isle lass.

- Who the hell does a female reader have to blow to get a !Kung woman represented in these beauty contests?

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Women

I think that I shall never see
Women as varied as these three.

A woman whose slender waist is prest
Between her shapely butt and breasts;

A woman who looks at God all day,
To thank Him for her face He made;

A woman who may in Summer wear
A tent of canvas round her rear;

Beneath whose bottom darkness falls;
And megafauna repair to doze.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But that big mama fell out the ugly tree.

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A (possibly foreign) girl writes about a dilemma that should be familiar to any pretty woman with dreams of alpha males pledging devotion dancing in her bed,

I am writing to ask you a question related to dating and marriage. Just what you wanted to and so rarely hear :) First, to introduce myself, I am what most men would rate as an 8, or on a really good day perhaps a 9, [ed: legit] am 26, and really only date alpha males. I can’t help it, I like the fire that can burn me. My last two boyfriends were both extremely charismatic, successful, magnetic et al and I spent a year with each before I realized they had something in common: aversion to marriage. Both were around 33, an age when many men begin to consider that stuff, in my opinion. My question is this:

As I am 26 and not going to be more attractive in five years, and I would like to get married within that time frame, how do I go about eschewing the alphas who are not interested in me for marriage? Should I start directing my attentions to the ones around 40 and up? Right now I can have my pick of most men, though it will not always remain thus, but as alphas are harder to marry than other men and commitment is what I want, should I redirect my attentions towards betas?

Of course perhaps it was just me that neither wanted to marry, but it was the reason for both breakups, and really I would rather not waste my time/energy/looks/emotions on men who just want to enjoy me for a year or two….

Anyway I appreciate you taking the time to read this and if you decide to post this and answer it on your website, feel free to, but please alter my name. Thanks :)

A critical detail remains unanswered: Did you initiate your break-ups with the last two alpha boyfriends? If not, you are probably dating out of your league — that is, you are fucking men who don’t think you have the goods to persuade them of an early retirement from the field — and the men decided your marital ultimatum, or innuendos of marital ultimatums to come, was a cramping of their style they couldn’t tolerate. So they dumped you while the dumping was good.

If, however, you did initiate the break-ups, it suggests your exes thought well enough of you to stick it out for as long as possible, holding out the hope of nuptial rewards until you called their deceptive feints. In this scenario, you are not dating out of your league so much as you are experiencing what it’s like to be with men who have the hearts of cads, but love you nonetheless.

My advice, should you choose to accept it:

Yes, dating older men is a solution. An older alpha male begins to feel two pressing awarenesses: his posterity, and his mortality. In this psychological stew, the love of a younger, loyal woman beckoning him to surrender his bachelor freedoms is a temptation hard to resist. But, if this is not an option…

Pursue the greater beta male. Often, the only notable differences between an alpha male and a greater beta male are the former’s superior charisma and the latter’s superior commitment. If you can suffer the even-temper and placid mood of the greater beta for his gift of marital capitulation, you will live a happy life. If not, prepare for my final piece of advice…

Continue your Sisyphean quest for the magnetic alpha male who inflames your ichor yet who is also willing to abide your peculiarly female constraints on his vital energies. These men do exist, but they’re rare. Not quite phantoms, but you’ll have to hunt them down. To start, you must identify warning signs of flightiness, and hopeful auspices of lifelong devotion.

- Is he a social king? The man who holds court, holds the love of many women. Try to date men who are less extroverted. The alpha introvert is socialy savvy, but he also prefers his solitude. This desire for solitude is correlated with conscientiousness, low impulsivity, and affinity for home and hearth.

- Are his parents still together (if alive)? The faithful apple doesn’t fall far from the tree of fidelity. Don’t underestimate the influence of genes on behavior.

- Has he dated and dumped a lot of beautiful women? Red flag.

- Are you better looking than his exes? You may be the one to quell his urge to wander.

- Is he willing to wait more than three dates before having sex with you? Hopeful auspice.

- Does he go out of his way to learn things about you? He’s smitten. (Or he’s a grandmaster player.)

- Does he have a (big) dog? He’s got an incipient paternal instinct.

- Is he politically conservative? If so, he’s more likely to want to marry and raise a family.

- Are his friends womanizers? He’s sympatico with the swinging scimitar lifestyle.

- Is he an epicurean of food, drink and art? He might also be an epicurean of women.

This is a partial list to get you started. One other thing. Beware prowlers bearing charming wit. Unlike men you meet within your social circle, the lone wolf does not come favorably endorsed nor does he fear betraying your friends’ trust.

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It’s not a secret that American women have lost their mojo. They’ve fallen far from the heights of the pin-up girl era to the present day man-squerading as lantern-jawed corporate henchcunts and biodiesel dirigibles. If ever there was a time for American men to get the hell out of Pudge and seek pinker pastures oversees, this is it. But such a decision is not as easy as “go to where the grateful hotties live.” Many factors must be taken into account besides density of pulchritude. If the Congo was filled with hot women but everything else about the country was the same, would you live there?

It’s also not a secret that America is morphing into a 2nd and soon 3rd world dump thanks to the traitorous machinations of our ruling class whose lust for cheap labor and neoPuritan Yankee eagerness to stick it to the wrong kinds of white people has eradicated any semblance of border control against the tide of orcs and dissolved the last stirring of unifying national bonhomie. Hence, some American white men are pondering the wisdom of going back to Europe, cradle of their genesis.

Thinking seriously about this subject, Randall Parker has butthexed the data and located an ideal destination for the single man in search of vaghalla and soul nourishment.

I’ve been thinking about the problem. Perhaps you’ve seem my posts where I ask my readers. None have come up with a good answer. But I think there is one: Ukraine. They are poor. Smart affluents would bring a lot to the table. They aren’t Russia. They would like to be less under Russian influence. America has never screwed them. [ed: America, fuck yeah!]

They have lower population density than the heart of Europe. One could always fly to Germany or Switzerland to see medical specialists.

The Odessa region has almost perfect climate for human habitation.

The summers are not as hot as NJ and the winters no colder.

The Crimea would be milder.

And, of supreme relevance, Ukrainian women are among the most beautiful the good mother earth, and perhaps genocidal world war and Holodomor culling, have produced. (And the Lord sayeth, Good things will come from great evil. Sorry, gotta include that great evil. Otherwise I’d get bored with the good good good all the time.)

Another possible upside (or downside, depending on your POV): Ukraine is on the feminine babe side of the Hajnal Line, or, as us wags like to call it, the Harridan Line. This is a geographic line that demarcates the part of Europe where nuptiality was historically lower (Northwest Europe) from the part where it was historically higher (East Europe). That is, in the traditional West where capitalism thrived, the women married later, had fewer kids, and worked more. This is the side of the Harridan Line that birthed the unholy tri-meme of feminism/equalism/multicultism. In the East of Europe, women married earlier, married older men, and had more kids. Generally, these women adhere more strictly to gender roles.

These kinds of selective pressures across the Harridan Line give rise to different types of female mentality. Ukrainian women are likely to be more feminine than Northwest European women, more apt to take care of their appearances and to watch their weights, and more at ease with their roles as the family nurturer and childcare specialist. They are also comfortable falling in love with older men, and welcome the wonderfully intoxicating leadership of their boyfriends and husbands.

The implications of the Hajnal Line are not all fun and games, though. Theoretically, there will be fewer beta males east of the Hajnal, and more cads, so your game has to be tight, especially up front during the attraction stage of seduction, when your main competition for the attentions of women won’t be wilting niceguys who don’t know how to plow through a shit test. On the other hand, if you can pass the early hurdles dealing with obscenely beautiful women who will shit test mercilessly for alpha congruity, your American Beta provider game should work much better on east-of-Hajnal women than on rode-worn-and-tossed-away-weary west-of-Hajnal careerist sluts with overpriced purses stuffed full of discretionary cash and scented condoms.

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A smattering of far-sighted readers across the blogoglobe have impertinently suggested the possibility that as America the Disparate breaks apart socially, economically and perhaps even geographically, (a near-certain conclusion given present realities), a “Back to Europe” movement will arise in corners of the stressed population as a means of escaping the spiraling dystopia.

The thought of returning to an ancestral homeland is enticing. It’s been the enlivening cri de coeur of at least one major world religion. If you, as I do, subscribe to the notion that humans evolve in step with their environment, and that this co-evolution of culture, ecology and biology plucks deep, primal rhythms in the heart when the three are aligned in accord with their historical partnership, then it’s not a strange proposition that returning to Europe, the authentic homeland of diaspora whites, might speak to many Americans in the same yearning, nostalgic way that returning to visit the neighborhood and the home in which you spent your formative years produces powerful undertows of wistful longing.

This is the stuff of wild fantasy, but if the bottom falls out from under America it’s not at all inconceivable that millions of internally dispossessed Americans will cast an eye to a long-lost brother across the sea, in hopes of beginning anew what was so recklessly and stupidly squandered here. No one should expect a “B2E” movement to happen overnight; but we live in an accelerated age, and big change, say along a timeline of decades rather than centuries, is capable of sneaking up on you.

Obviously, difficulties in a Back to Europe de-colonization scenario present. Outlined below are a few of the biggest hurdles.

- The narcissism of small differences factor. Would the Europeans want us? Europe is already densely populated, much more so than most of the US, and the addition of 50 million Americans won’t alleviate that. Many continental Europeans don’t even much care for Americans, and view them as a distinct white ethnicity, loud, boisterous, ill-kempt, fat (guilty as charged) and uncouth, like the Dutch might view the Greeks. It would take a lot of convincing to get Europeans to agree to allow mass white American immigration, but if their native birth rates remain as low as they are now (Germany is at something like 1.2 TFR) then they may not have a choice but to welcome their wandering cousins back to the fold.

- The Mad Max factor. Would Americans be willing to leave their military and weapons industry unattended? Can you imagine the US nuclear arsenal in the hands of the left side of the bell curve? *shudder* And the good bet is that the left-behinds will be disproportionately left-curvers, as only the smart will have the foresight to know ahead of time to jump a sinking ship. (This last point is debatable.)

- The mutt factor. The founding stock of America is a mix of predominantly German, English, Dutch and Scandinavian ancestry. Irish, Italian and Polish added their bloodlines to the founding stock in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Since then, it’s been all downhill, but the essential biological nature of white America is largely unchanged: Most white Americans are some mix of the above European ethnicities. So where does a Euro-mutt American resettle in Europe? Germany? England? Italy? It’s not an easy question, as the theory of mind that evolution informs suggests that a Euro-mutt will feel ancient pulls toward each of his ancestral homelands. You might, for instance, feel equally benevolent toward the stoicism of Swedes and the lustiness of Italians, or equally comfortable in the mountainous Alps as in the steppes of Ukraine.

- The leftoid factor. Contrary to assumption, I think most B2Eers will be of the liberal persuasion. As Haidt has documented, conservatives possess a stronger moral emphasis on loyalty. It’s conservatives who will stick it out in America till the bitter end, loyal to the last. Liberals will cut and run as soon as their pasty, plush asses are threatened by real discomfort. Plus, Europe has always held more appeal to liberals, who nurse the idea that the continent is filled with sophisticates. To the liberal, escape to Europe is like a hipster backpacker’s dream writ large. Of course, liberals will rationalize their escape as being something like “getting away from those degenerate rednecks ruining America”, but by that time most of us will know the real reason, and it won’t be a secret carefully warehoused by a dying MSM anymore.

- The betrayal factor. To return to Europe is to dance on the graves of the Founding Fathers. It’s to say, “Sorry, old chaps, you bequeathed your posterity a great enterprise, and we made a hash of it. All that revolution for nothing.” Many Americans will have a hard time overcoming this emotional obstacle. Not a few Euros will probably rub it in our faces.

- The culture clash factor. 350+ years is enough time for a distinct American culture to flourish. It’s perhaps enough time for a distinct American genome to flourish as well. Plopping Americans into Europe could create a strain that, coupled with the dysgenic Muslim elements of European society, can’t be managed. But this is pure speculation. It’s just as likely that Americans, once safely in the womb of Mother Europe, will revert to their ancestral pre-American norms and imbibe the best of Europe’s culture while jettisoning the worst of America’s.

- The climate factor. Can America’s white Southroners, acclimated to their subtropical heat and humidity, take to the dryness and cold of continental Europe or the chill winds of the Scottish Highlands? If their genes haven’t changed too much, they can. White Northerners should have no trouble settling anywhere in Europe.

All told, the Back to Europe scenario is less likely than a Retreat to Canada or Trek to Australia scenario. Canada is closer and more simpatico (speak the same language) to American sensibilities, while Australians share Americans’ zest for life and genial brusqueness. If climate warming proceeds as predicted, Canada will become exceedingly friendly as a relocation spot (Australia less so). Regrettably, South Africa is a lost cause, and Russians have too much spooky Siberian blood in them to find enough common ground with Americans as next door neighbors.

For the single American man, the choice of relocation destination in Europe will depend on the beauty of the native women. At the risk of opening the floor to furious but unenlightening debate, all of the East European countries would rank high, along with Italy and France, followed by Sweden and Finland. But don’t stress about it. You’re going to Europe; woman-wise you really can’t go wrong since most of the world’s beauties hail from the land of the ice and snow where Cro-Magnons made inspired interspecies love with large-eyed Neanderthals.

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Tested Dolls

It’s cute the way Russian women look so mortified when they stumble. Truly, the Slav is a feminine stock of woman.

American women have their own charms, of course, stumbling and laughing it off as some kind of binge drinking medal sweep.

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Further proof that Russia and nearby provinces run a surplus of slender, beautiful women.

It must be something in the wuuuudka.

This post is not an exercise in glibness. The evidence — men’s penises — strongly suggests that Rus women are, objectively and proportionate to their native populations, the most beautiful women in the world. The Dnieper-Dniester region is, anthropologically, the Fertile Crescent. The pussybasket of the world. The cradle of cuteness. And I say this partly from personal experience.

The question that needs answering is not, then, where are the world’s hottest babes, but WHY do the world’s hottest babes bubble out of the DNA froth like sexy sirens emerging from the hillocks of this particular vast agricultural plain?

My preferred theory is increased male options. The great wars decimated the ranks of the Eastern Front’s men, so much so that the men remaining alive had their pick of the poon. And when men have mating options — whether through the gain of power and charisma or through the luck of living during a time of favorable sex ratio skew — they almost always choose young, slender, pretty women. The Rus men chose wisely.

But a reader has informed me that überbrain Greg Cochrane recently undermined this theory when he computationally concluded that not enough time has passed since the great wars for the miracle of organic eugenics to work its magic and push the Rus women toward elevated heights of beauty. I remain, respectfully, unconvinced.

Whatever is happening over there, we will discover the cause of this beauty bounty, and spread its blessings to all the world’s men till there is a hot chick in every pot, and a babe in every backyard.

In the meantime…

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A hot brunette talking in a citizen of the world accent to a slumped shoulder herbling, on the sidewalk:

“American guys have an attitude that European girls all want to have sex with them. Just because we’re European!”

If an American man is going on a date with a European girl with the attitude that she is eager to put out and loves sex, then he is doing something right. When you have the attitude that you expect sex from women… you are more likely to get sex from women.

Perhaps this self-fulfilling alpha attitude partly explains why American men so often praise the femininity of European women compared to American women. Or it could just be that more American women are slovenly mounds of unrendered lard while more European women are slender babes.

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