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Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

Alpha Male Of The Month

now let’s see if you can suck dick at the same time.

When a woman publicly, willingly, and happily prostrates herself to a powerful alpha male, it triggers the egalitarian instinct in northwest Europeans (men and women) who, feeling vicarious indignation, snark and sputter their displeasure. For instance,

Proof that men are completely helpless.

Yes, it could be proof of that (if you ignore the fact that he appears to be a healthy man capable of standing on his own without aid). But much more likely it’s proof that his beautiful lover takes great pleasure in serving him.

To the modern, equalism-addled Western mind, such displays of raw female submission to raw male sexuality are both alien and unsettlingly evocative of sexual relations as they may occur without social censure, or as they may have occurred in the distant past when fewer formalized rules were in place to constrain the sexual gluttony of alpha males and the dewy-eyed slavishness of the women who loved them. Threatening, too, because the occasional display of stark sexual polarity in egalitarian societies, consensual and brimming with joy by both parties, is a shivvy reminder to the mass of mediocrities of their own organically constrained romantic options.

In short, sour grapes and snark are the typical reactions by losers suffering the ceremony of winners.

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Perspicacious and numerate commenter “St” writes in response to this post about Shakespeare having his male characters utter fewer words than their romantic female counterparts,

CH,

I hope you realize that 101/155 = 65.1%

Which is disturbingly close (1.6%) to the 2/3 male-to-female text communication ratio you advise.

If that’s not another exogenous vindication of Chateau principles, I don’t know what is.

“St” is referring to CH’s Poon Commandment V:

V. Adhere to the golden ratio

Give your woman 2/3 of everything she gives you. For every three calls or texts, give her two back. Three declarations of love earn two in return. Three gifts; two nights out. Give her two displays of affection and stop until she has answered with three more. When she speaks, you reply with fewer words. When she emotes, you emote less. The idea behind the golden ratio is twofold — it establishes your greater value by making her chase you, and it demonstrates that you have the self-restraint to avoid getting swept up in her personal dramas. Refraining from reciprocating everything she does for you in equal measure instills in her the proper attitude of belief in your higher status. In her deepest loins it is what she truly wants.

It appears that CH, knowingly or unwittingly ;), stumbled upon a deep and abiding truth about sex, love and the erotic nature of women that was known to the literary greats of the distant past.

Heartiste and Shakespeare… truly, madly, deeply in ❤️!

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It’s hardly a secret, even among the SWPL hypocrati, that IQ is important to individual life outcomes, (and, on a grander scale, to a nation’s civilizational supremacy), that it correlates to a host of happy behavioral traits, and that dysgenic mating trends threaten to “decivilize” the West if nothing is done to reverse them. Given these accepted premises, many well-meaning but marginally spergalicious bloggers argue for the glories of assortative mating, (though in point of fact many assortatively sorted couples are meeting based less on shared IQ or unspoken eugenic hopes than on simple segregated convenience). This post may then come as a surprise, advocating as it does for a marital boycott of overeducated women.

IQ (and a woman’s educational level, insofar as the latter is an IQ proxy) is undoubtedly relevant if you’re interested in improving your future kids’ economic prospects, and likely getting more so thanks to increasing occupational cognitive demands, but it isn’t the alpha and omega of the good life. Myopic IQ fetishism notwithstanding, CH has spilled a fair amount of ASCII ink ridiculing equalists who despise the idea of an immutable general factor of intelligence and the consequent futility of public policy that fails to account for its reality. This is because the equalists are today those in power, and thus the most scrumptious targets for the Shiv Wielders.

Implicit or explicit support for assortative mating to boost a country’s “smart fraction” is arid frank & beans counting. Breeding Sorters say we are doomed if we don’t pair off high IQ partners in marriage to make high IQ babies. But there are more things in love and marriage, than are dreamt of in their social science laboratories. And there are more negatives to assortative mating than eugenicist whisperers are willing to admit.

There really is no point to marriage unless one wants children. Absent children, all the good things about marriage can be had in cohabiting relationships. This is even true of raising children if your blood is of Northern European stock, for whom the people of your motherlands demonstrate a facility at successful childrearing in non-marital cohabiting households. (Not to be confused with craptastic American-style single mom households, of which there are blessedly few in Scandinavian countries.)

So a major justification for marriage (and a reminder of the silliness of gay marriage) is that having children within a healthy functioning nuclear family environment benefits their development.

Right there is Problem Number One you’ll encounter if you marry an overeducated woman: She is likely to be far less fecund than less credentialed women. If you want at least the 2.1 kids necessary to replace you and your wife in the next generation, don’t marry a woman with a 4-year college degree and especially not a woman with a doctoral degree. You may as well line the spare bedroom with kitty litter.

Problem Number Two with overeducated women: Over the last 30 years, the happiness of women with graduate degrees has dropped faster than that of women with less than a high school education. (See Table 3, Panel E) The secular trend in happiness is down for women across all educational levels (which is not the case for men), but having more than a four year college degree accelerates the female unhappiness trends to rates above that for high school dropouts. Men are happier when their wives are happier, which means you should avoid marrying a credentialist status whore. And since there is scant evidence that children make you happier, it pays to find a woman who won’t exacerbate an already unhappy prognostication.

Keep in mind, too, that women get a lot unhappier with age than do men. So if you marry a spry 35-year-old post-doc she’s gonna be a real barrel of fun when she’s pushing 50.

Problem Number Three with overeducated women: Pairing them off with smart, accomplished men exacerbates social inequality. And not just because it amplifies white stratification by zip code; it also increases white stratification by IQ (and its attendant cultural fracturing). Society is best served when men with high IQs are free to inject their gifts into the wider world of women, instead of having all that gold-plated DNA locked up in the semi-barren wombs of Ivy Leaguers pushing social constructivism and infinity-wave feminist theory as a day job.

Problem Number Four with overeducated women: They’re sexually frigid. While sex surveys are more prone than any other type of survey to tempt respondents to lie, the results do offer a clue as to which way the tingles vibrate, and according to the data the tingles are practically buried dead underneath a mound of post-grad student loan debt.

For further confirmation of this nonsexular trend among superfluously credentialed women, see this screen capture of poll results on a message board for upper middle class married white women, most of whom probably have college degrees or better. The question asked is how many blowjobs do they give per month (presumably to their husbands). Since it is a private message board among women and not a publicly announced survey with social expectation bias built in, you can expect these responses to better reflect the reality of their marriages.

If you’re a man with a set of functioning gonads and not a sufferer of cerebral scalzi, you will want to avoid hitching yourself to an overeducated woman whose dusty muff and schoolmarmish mouth will open for business once every lunar cycle.

As CH is a cuntoisseur of the overeducated SWPL chick, some may wonder why the Lord of Lasciviousness would deign to game sexually frozen prey? Easily explained. First, a gentlemanly selectiveness honed by years of experience and psychological nimbleness has proved adequate at filtering out women likely to lay like dead fish in my roiling sea of sperm. Second, pre-marriage, pre-kids SWPL chicks are ravenous in a way they never will be within the confines of the marital home, copulating with an alacrity that belies their furtive fear that their future husbands will be unable to arouse in them the same fervor. Third, one must accept that many overeducated women are sexless termagants because they are married to beta males; they’ve lost that lovin’ feeling, and only a suave rico will summon it back.

But, if you don’t have the skill to reintroduce overeducated women to their bygone libidos, it makes sense to find yourself a less educated woman with a naturally higher sex drive and/or less benumbing experience in the desiccating company of anhedonic beta males.

Problem Number Five with overeducated women: They’re uglier. Now I know what you’re thinking. IQ and beauty, according to the evidence compiled, correlate to a nontrivial degree. All else equal, if you date only women with above-average IQs, you are probably dating women with above-average looks as well. But the formula, at least anecdotally, appears to break down once you move into the ranks of women with much higher than average IQs or years of accumulated education. Trawl any lofty Ivy campus and you can’t help but notice how poorly the super smart women compare aesthetically to their earthier competition. State U girls have it in spades over H Bomb girls. If you are a man, this matters for your marital happiness and stability.

***

All together, CH has laid out a fairly convincing case against marrying overeducated women. Yes, intelligent women will get your stupidly ironic SWPL jokes, but that’s not what makes you hard, is it? No, what makes you hard is a cute face perched atop a slender hourglass figure, guided by an electric ham that’s willing to put all those delicious assets to good use. So why are you contemplating marrying an overeducated woman? To have extra money to purchase pixellated distractions? To brag to your buddies that your homely wife has a PeeAcheDee, only to notice how none of them are remotely impressed by that? Sounds like the winning life of a true warrior of the West. Not.

Nothing in this post should impress upon the reader that dumpster diving in the ghetto for sub-80 IQ battering hams is the wise course of action. An aversion to overeducated women is not the same as a desire for the love of blank-eyed obese monstrosities. The undereducated woman has her own laundry list of problems, many of them equal to or worse than the vices of her smarter sistren. To wit, here is a representative of the pro-educated woman, pro-assortative mating crowd, a real “lion” of the commentariat, reader “SC”, who lays out his side’s argument for sacrificing passion at the altar of social status whoring:

And what is it with you and high IQ/high education women?

I know them better than they know themselves.

Just because you have had bad personal experiences with them…

I’ve had very few bad experiences with SMRT overeducated women. In fact, the bulk of my romantic life has been nestled in the boobies of college+ grads (along with some very exciting exceptions I won’t ever regret). But I also have a bad habit of calling it like I see it, and overeducated women come with their own peculiar set of psychological baggage and magical thinking. And I’m a guy who likes to take a big picture view. Individually, these women have been great fun in my life; societally, they are the cuntary in the coal mine.

…doesn’t mean that they are worse than low IQ/low education women in aggregate.

I didn’t say they were worse. Think of this blog as bringing balance to the force.

I am willing to bet any amount of money that high IQ/high education women are: less violent,

…more emotionally manipulative. Or at least better at it.

less likely to have an illegitimate kid,

…more likely to fuck two men concurrently. Overeducated women are less beholden to sexual norms.

less likely to get divorced,

…less likely to get married before they’re haggard. IQ and credential fetishists love to write about the low rate of divorce among the overeducated, but what they always fail to grasp is that a big reason for this is the decrease in sexual market options among the high IQ that accompanies their later in life marriages. So yeah, you get a more faithful wife with crows’ feet and a saggy butt. Lack of options = stability. Worth the trade-off?

If anything, it looks as if the best bet, if you want to avoid divorce, is to 1. skip marriage altogether or 2. marry a woman who will be a stay at home mom and won’t make more money than you. That means, in practice, avoiding women with masters or doctoral degrees, since it is likely they will have upper quintile incomes.

less likely to have a criminal record,

…more likely to snort coke. How many readers have real experience dating and fucking blue city SWPL chicks? I mean, on the order of 30 or more lovers? If you do, then you know how much coke overeducated girls hoover up their dainty noses.

less likely to be on welfare,

…more likely to max out daddy’s credit card. But yeah, if you date an overeducated SWPL chick, she won’t feel much of a need to lean on you for financial support, which is a good thing… if you’re a player. If you’re a beta offering nothing but free dinners, eh, not so good.

and less likely to be overweight than their low IQ counterparts.

That’s true, and that’s the biggest advantage that overeducated women enjoy.
Fatness is the boner-killer.
Fatness is the heavy weight that brings erection annihilation.
I will scorn that fatness.
I will permit it to wobble past me and far away from me.
And when it has stampeded past I will turn the serrated shiv to see its path.
Where the fat chick has gone there will be belly fold fungus.
Only sexy chicks remain.

Just walk through the campus of Harvard or MIT sometime. Hardly any fatties with bastard kids. Every trailer park/ghetto/barrio has TONS of tattooed fatties with bastard babies.

There’s a world of women between Harvard yenta and trailer park methhead. What is the total percentage of 18-year-old American women who attend Ivies? 1%? I gotta laugh at some of these HBD hermits. To them, the world of dateable lovelies is either toothless COPS extras or 140 IQ Harvard students. I thought they were supposed to be numerate? Fellas, step outside. There are a lot of pretty girls with normal lives who aren’t welfare queens or PhD overachievers.

Here’s valuable CH advice you HBDingalings won’t regret following: Learn game. Use your knowledge of the seduction arts to find a cute girl with an associates or bachelors degree, 105-115 IQ, under 27-years-old, with no children and no stated feminist beliefs, whose greatest career aspiration is nursing or teaching and sucking the life force out of your two standard deviation schlong on the daily. If you can do that, all worries about an impending dysgenic disaster will fade to irrelevance.

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Sweet Rosalie writes,

I don’t understand how the married guy is “happily married” if he drinks so much and sounds so desperate. If I had been his wife I would have divorced him not for cheating, but for being such a desperate clingy beta (for a 36-year-old who treats him like s#it nonetheless). I wouldn’t mind too much my husband having an affair if he acts like a grown-up, but the sight of my husband losing his head like a (drunk) teenager would be unbearable.

It’s helpful to remind oneself that the male mind is as, if not more, unfathomable to women as the female mind is to men, and this is particularly so when we speak of the primeval parts of the brain responsible for regulating romantic feeling. Rosalie is Exhibit A. She can’t understand how a man can be both happily married and desperate to bang an office hottie. But men are perfetly capable of compartmentalizing sex and love, something women can’t do or can only do with strenuous mental exertions that defy their natural psychological predisposition.

FACT: Most men can simultaneously love their wives and lust for their mistresses.

FACT: More men than women are capable of LOVING two or more romantic partners concurrently.

FACT: A man can sustain and reconcile a happy marriage and a romantic fling for decades without feeling an urge to give up on either one.

Women have trouble doing any of the above three axioms with the same ease of execution and peace of mind that men naturally possess. There are exceptions, but this is the way to bet.

Rosalie, therefore, is befuddled. And Rosalie should not be chastised (gently mocked, yes) for her befuddlement, because it is the nature of her sex to project her own desires and compulsions onto the motivations of men. It is a rare woman indeed with the self-awareness to understand men’s romantic desires and to predict men’s actions based on that understanding. It is the rarer woman still who will forgive men for following their desires in the same reckless manner that women unabashedly follow theirs.

Rosalie’s confessional blurt reveals something else of the character of women. It isn’t the cheating per se that offends her; it’s the man’s clinginess and betatude with which the hope of cheating is pursued that gets under her skin. This is in line with the CH contention that, deep beneath the reservoir of polite social expectation that wraps cortically around the id monster, women aren’t so scandalized by a cheating lover as they are emotionally traumatized by a cheating lover who cheats with sub-par fare and does so with the mien of a mewling betaboy in a rush of love. (That post, btw, garnered a response from a more optimistic man than I.)

Rosalie is woman. The sex act of the cheater is not the crisis of heart for her. The betrayal of *love* is what sets her off. Like most women, what she truly fears is infidelity of the heart, not infidelity of the groin. This is why it’s so jarring to her to hear about, or visualize, an older husband falling gaga in love with a younger woman, and reverting to a primordial beta prototype in the process.

Sweet Rosalie, if only there were more women like you who spoke truth to id, and understood that alpha husbands sometimes need sexual and romantic outlets, and that this male desire needn’t mean the end of their marriages. Are you French, by any chance?

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Merry Christmas

Many thanks to all the readers who showed their superlove for CH by donating to the blog (see Donate button at right). It is appreciated.

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This one time, in gigolo camp…

I’d like to relay a conversation I had with a past lover who asked a very pointed question as we were strolling along a riverbank (yes, really! Hallmark called and wanted their moment back), in hopes that it will impart a valuable lesson for the next generation of pussy houndlings. Our love ended when she moved far away, but she later returned for a few weeks and met with me to wax nostalgic over old times. The pertinent part of our convo follows:

Her: Did you use game on me?

Me: (momentarily rattled) What do you mean?

Her: I mean did you say things that would make me fall for you? Were your feelings real?

After a few seconds pause to collect myself and stop from blurting an ill-formed, self-incriminating reply, I stowed my easy smile and summoned my Very Serious Face.

Me: Since when did you become so cynical? One thing I’ll always regret is turning a woman like you into a cynic. It doesn’t suit you.

Her: I’m not cynical. I was just wondering if you meant what you said to me.

Me: Tell me, was I a bad influence on you?

Her: No.

Me: But I was. You sound like a different girl today. That’s not good. You’ve lost something, and it kills me inside.

Our conversation took a detour at that juncture, as we passed a store that reminded her of the place where I picked her up. When we returned to the subject, she asked me what I meant when I said she was different now than when I met her. All talk of “game” had ceased.

Note three themes: 1) I never answered her question directly. 2) I redirected the conversation so that she was put on the defensive, having to reconcile both a possible change in her personality for the worse, and blame for making me feel like “it was killing me inside”. 3) The “bad influence” assumption fed her desire for JERKBOY drama.

The wild-eyed feminist reader shrieks, “That’s manipulation!” Is it? Substantively, nothing I said was false. Her fling with me really did provoke in her a small measure of cynicism. It’s also true that she was a naturally big-hearted girl for whom cynicism conflicted with those temperamental attributes that made her special to me. And finally, I did in fact feel kind of bad for arousing in her dark suspicions. And it is a fact as well that women welcome a bit of badboy excitement in their love lives.

But there would’ve been no gain to be had, for either of us, from admitting under interrogation that I had used game on her or from expressing regret for the use of game rather than regret for the effect that it had on her uncorrupted, trusting love. Because I knew from experience that when women ask seemingly pointed questions, what they really want to know goes much deeper, to primal feelings that women hold near and dear, like, for instance, the nature of loving reciprocation. Directing my replies to those deeper feelings in her, as if I was talking to a separate being or the real woman behind the curtain, would yield fuller intimacy.

So I had used game. And I meant what I had said to her when we first met. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Game was the best way to persuade her that my feelings for her were genuine, because I knew that she would need that professionally administered seduction to be open to receiving my sincere message of love. Yes, you evade tough questioning from a woman to sidestep discomfort and bad feelings, but you also evade her dead end inquisitions to grapple with the turbulence of her hidden, animating emotions. The art and science of seduction can be as enlightening as it can be bewildering. And there’s no woman in the world who doesn’t love it for both reasons.

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This was the advice of an Italian female author of a bestseller book titled Cásate y sé sumisa – “Get Married and Be Submissive”. The book is now a hit in Spain, where the fertility rate of the native Spaniards is very low as one prime fertility generation of women after another squeezes into the crowded and expensive cities to pursue the accumulation of alphas and gadgets instead of betas and cherubs.

Naturally, Spain’s feminists (is there no Western nation safe from the shrieking of the clams?) are outraged, OUTRAGED I tells ya, by the book’s premise, and are, as is the wont of this subspecies of open-minded and tolerant leftoids, calling for it to be banned.

The book, which was a bestseller in Italy, preaches a message of “loyal obedience, generosity and submission” on the part of the new wife and offers nuggets of advice for the newly-wed on how to please one’s husband.

The book currently appears at number 15 on the Amazon bestseller list in Spain but has raised the hackles of modern-minded Senoras who even staged a public demonstration against the tome, where they tore up copies.

Women’s groups are considering legal action to get it banned arguing that it promotes gender violence.

Here is a photo of the Italian authoress, Costanza Miriano, advocating a wife’s submission to her husband:

Here is a photo of a group of Spanish feminists tearing apart copies of the book:

I could drop the mic right here and walk off stage, confident that the argument against the feminist position, such as it is, remains incontestable. But tragically there are still people in the world who believe raw ugliness exerts no influence upon one’s warped beliefs or bizarro worldview, so the shivvings will continue until morale improves.

One passage suggests: “We [women] like humiliation because it is for a greater good.”

The Story of Oaths. Women in traditional marriages are happier than women participating under more “egalitarian” marital auspices. Lovely Costanza is correct; the nature of women… unchangeable, sculpted in the crucible of a millions-year old mating environment that has bred in them an instinctual adoration for the powerful man who by force of will extracts from his lovers a damegeld, i.e., submission to his prerogatives… is a wild beast that needs a dose of loving humiliation to remind it for whom it ploughs and pleases.

Miriano has touched on something important here, something very dark and naturally suited for examination by the learned scribes of Chateau Heartiste. A woman seeks her submission to a better man, belying her own socially greased words to the contrary, and will take the measure of a man in part by his willingness to indulge in humiliations, usually small, sometimes great, as proof of his worthiness.

What does Miriano mean by “for the greater good”? I believe she alludes to an idea articulated at CH in the past: the idea that women’s unbridled sexual nature is wilder and more dangerous than man’s sexual nature, and that leaving women’s ravenous desire to its own devices — that is, giving women the freedom as demanded by feminists to hunt in an endless chase for perfect romantic fulfillment, no matter the consequences — will in the end breed deep discontentment, and the restless queefly quest that can never be quenched will transform the ancient courtship rituals into an acid bath disintegrating the last fibers of social connectedness.

Women, slave to limbic compulsions far beyond the mere abilities of prefrontal willpower to contain, need a man who will stop them embarking on this quest, whether embarking in reality or fantasy (both are caustic to social and familial bonds in their own ways), and the only assurance that a woman will be satisfied leaving the quest behind is if a man wrests her from pursuing it.

The author claims the book is based on the teachings of St Paul and that a perfect wife should be submissive.

Paging Matt King…

“It’s true, you’re not yet an experienced cook or a perfect housewife,” she writes. “What’s the problem if he tells you so? Tell him that he is right, that it’s true, that you will learn. On seeing your sweetness and your humility, your effort to change, this will also change him.

Smart women understand that men won’t move heaven and earth for unfeminine shrikes. Even an ur-leftoid like Maureen Dowd, by way of a fortuitous brush with brotherly reality that would have made her a wiser woman had she heeded the unmissable lesson instead of lied to herself her whole life for status whoring points at her New York Beta Times cocktail circuit, comprehends that feminine niceness, and nothing but feminine niceness, is a balm of which men will never tire.

The sassy, snarky, arch bitch inspires the competitive instinct in men, and weakens their protective instinct. Men won’t feel motivated to change for a woman who isn’t capable of evoking vulnerability and, yes, submission. Men will fuck the invincible modern woman, and then leave her unloved, untroubled that such a woman softly weeps herself to sleep at night.

Granada’s Archbishop Francisco Javier Martinez, who chose to publish the book has defended its content and insists that the furore surrounding it is “ridiculous and hypocritical” in a society that allows abortion, which he argues is a much clearer example of violence against women.

The Fifth Wave Feminist: Keep hacking at those fetal limbs but zero tolerance for awkward nerds committing microaggressions by telling dongle jokes.

The present condition of Western elite thought is unsustainable. Something will give, soon. And then those who always felt the Western world was amiss but were too cowardly to say so without twelve layers of sniveling PC ass-covering will embrace the wrought iron door to the Chateau and enter, imbibing its teachings without apology, without reluctance, and with only regret at having not arrived sooner.

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