Archive for the ‘Maxims’ Category

What if the seduction is sincere?

Maxim #1: Game is learned charisma, streamlined seduction. Game is as sincere as its practitioner’s intent.

Game is the honest presentation of an idea, a thought, a suggestion in a way that makes it likely to be believed by the object of desire. If game is manipulation, or cheating, then so is all art, for which the object of desire is the viewer’s or listener’s engagement with its message. Do you really believe art is cheating?

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Players and unaffiliated men who labor to pass on the Good Word of Game usually admonish neophytes that borderline uncomfortable numbers of approaches need to be made in order to become proficient at pickup. You’ve got to get out there and talk to more women than you would normally do in the course of a nondescript day.

This message is a good one. You won’t get good at the crimson arts until you’ve put in some real world practice interacting with lots of different women. The exact number is irrelevant; whether it takes you ten or one thousand approaches to improve doesn’t change the undeniable reality that very few men have the ability to go from video gaming malaise to WunderJuan on their first approach.

You could say that the approach mentality, at least during the learning curve stage, is a core principle of game.

There’s one other core game principle that I don’t see mentioned very much, if at all, in the pickup literature. In my view, it’s just as important a principle as approaching girls enough times to trespass beyond your comfort zone. That principle is the “find and foment her flaws” theory.

The idea is simple. Every woman you meet, from friend to love prospect to the barest acquaintance, and every woman who crosses your field of visual inspection, will be subject to your exceedingly judgmental eye. You will search, find and declare to yourself her flaw or flaws. If propriety and privacy allows it, you will verbalize her flaw so that it may become cemented in your wavering cortex and banish all doubt of the flaw’s authenticity. It is a well-kown fact among the big-toothed motivational speaker circuit that saying aloud slogans of self-encouragement or life goals helps the chanter sculpt corporeal heft to his dreams.

So, for example, you see a woman in the mall riding an escalator. Her sundress flounces insouciantly from above you. An incipient boner stirs. But this time, instead of allowing your beta twerpitude the run of your skullcase and straining to catch imagined glimpses of panty, you silence the dork force and, with proud stentorian innerauthority, jot a solid mental note of her larger-than-ideal thighs. Safe distance permitting, you might even rumble in a dampened voice to yourself, “Hm, thunder thighs. Too much speckle.”

You will enact this devious scheme for every attractive and not-so-attractive woman who has the misfortune of falling prey to your daggered gaze. Only the obvious sexual market losers of femaledom — the grossly obese, the crassly ugly, the desiccated old — will be exempt, for their flaws are so prominently obscene they need no reminding nor rooting.

What is the purpose of Principle #2? To balance gender sheets?

Certainly, you could argue with strong evidence that women are particularly unforgiving of men’s flaws, in the private if not in the public, being as how they are slaves to a much more powerful hypergamous force that excels at weeding out stellar-lite suitors with extreme prejudice. A little harsh judgment from you is just giving women a taste of the moldy bread they daily give to men.

But, no, that’s not the purpose, as vengefully titillating as that seems. The purpose is purely practical. The finding and fomenting of women’s flaws conditions the beta male mind to accept the attainability of women, and to discard the reflexive sanctification of women. No master seducer who ever lived believed even one woman was unattainable by him, nor that any woman was a flawless vessel of purity. The seducer loves women, but his love is vast enough to revel in women’s flaws. And that is why he wins.

The beta male who conditions himself thus, by his efforts to discover the flaws in women kept hidden to him by the shadow of his turgid lust cast around his vision, will slowly feel the power and the strength of the Attitude, that indomitable voice that rises like the Great Scrotum from the pubic patch and delivers with valedictorian presumption the message that no woman is out of reach or free of exploitable insecurities, the exploiting of which by a savvy man she herself would be ashamed to admit thrills her to the clitbone.

Returning to escalator girl, here are some more examples of flawmobbing.

- skewed eyes
– narrow hips
– rumpled blouse
– misshapen boobs
– nip/tuck victim
– manhands
– roo pouch
– clown feet
– incipient hump
– jug ears
– wasted calves
– bow-legged
– flabby arms
– pigeon-toed
– broad shouldered
– excessive peach fuzz
– asymmetric nostrils

I can already hear the gripers. “But I just saw the hottest chick ever and she looked PERFECT! I couldn’t find anything wrong with her.”

There is always something wrong with a girl, no matter how beautiful. You may have to dig a little deeper, but you’ll find her thermal exhaust port with a practiced keen eye. Note that any of the above can easily apply to the hottest girl you have ever seen. That’s the beauty of the flawfinding mission: it unearths the normally overlooked blemishes scattered among a girl’s mien that her general beauty tends to obscure to men. If you socialize with a girl and gain insight into her personality, you have even more data from which to devise withering, silent judgments.

Once you have gotten reliable at noticing and promoting women’s flaws, their beauty will no longer hold such paralyzing power over you. Conditioned to emphasize a woman’s worst and attenuate her best, you will become a cad machine, irresistible to the fairer sex who will react shaken from their stupor by your dispassionate demeanor and feel the threat of your pervasive critical eye with senses aflame.

Maxim #30: Ignore a woman’s flaws at your peril. They are the key to reconfiguring your perception, and thus her attainability.

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

The importance of the above maxim can’t be overstated. The way to a woman’s heart is through her id.

There’s a male analogue as well.

Maxim #102: For most men, five minutes of a younger, hotter woman beats five years of older, uglier women.

Younger women are, barring a few conspicuous exceptions, better looking, better smelling and better feeling than older women. Career goals not achieved to the contrary notwithstanding, younger women are alpha females. The man who has tasted the succulent flesh of an 18 year old cutie will never again look at, or feel toward, older women with the same excitement, urgency or romanticism. He has been corrupted. His memories, lucid, almost palpable, of intimacies with younger women, will dominate. Five minutes in bed with a young babe will linger longer in his cortical penis extension than five years with an assortment of older women.

James Hooker has doomed himself. But it’s a doom that most men would welcome with open arms, if they could. His relationship — loving, tender, sexual — with an 18 year old babe means, should he find himself single again, that few women his age will satisfy him the way his current younger lover does. An older woman Hooker’s age who wants to extract commitment from him, or even a simulacra of lovingkindness, is going to have her work cut out for her. A man’s memory of an 18-year-old is a more powerful competitor to her than the attentions of real live women her own age.

Men like Hooker, men who have experience bedding younger women, and whose libidos are rocket fueled by powerful memories of young woman love, if they are single, go blankly into that dating field of cougars and cynical spinsters, depressed over the substandard offerings, forever seeking to recapture the intensely pleasurable magic of their time with their lithe lolitas. Their sheer disgust at the socially approved alternatives, and their unbreakable confidence at having inspired the love of much younger women, will help propel them back into the arms of charming coeds. They are men on a mission, and they won’t be stopped, not even by marriage.

Men like this live by one rule: if the cunnilingus feels like a chore, she’s too old.

As a one night stand with an alpha male can skew a woman’s expectations for life, so can a fling with an 18-year-old hottie skew a man’s expectations for life. But there is a critical difference in the sexes regarding expectation levels. It requires little effort for an average-looking woman to spread her legs and permit an alpha male to dump a fuck in her; for men are, on the whole, the less discriminating sex, and will rarely pass up easy lays with normal-sized women when they are offered. A woman’s ego, inflated from birth, will mistakenly regard the alpha’s fly-by-night attentions as validation of her relationship worthiness to men of his caliber. She will, in time, learn a bitter lesson.

In contrast, it requires yeoman effort, whether through the accumulation of wealth and status or through charm and dominance, for an average-looking older man to persuade an 18-year-old babe to relinquish her sex to him. This effort and resulting success is evidence that he has what it takes to consistently attract younger women and have relationships with them. When in the company of younger women, his mate value is self-evident. Thus, such a man’s expectations are more in line with reality than are the slutty woman’s expectations whose value is rightly measured not by how much cock she can hoover, but by how many high value men she can convince to stick around and fall in love with her.

Nevertheless, a continent full of average-looking, non-obese women riding the alpha cock carousel for stretches of their lives, and older men openly ignoring women their age to pursue their desire for the company of younger women, means an end to mutually nourishing beta male-slender female relationships and societally stabler older male-older female pairings. This is probably not going to turn out well for a monogamy-based modern civilization like ours, but it seems the rule that civilizations in the final spasms of decay revert to more primal norms of self-actualizing sexual and romantic fulfillment.

As always, I’ll be poolside.

Corollary to Maxim #102: A beautiful, slender older woman will be a better lay than a plain, fatter younger woman.

This corollary has more relevance today than it would have in the past, because enormous numbers of what would normally be very fuckable young babes have put themselves out of contention by getting fat and gross. Thanks to the Western obesity epidemic, there is a glimmer of hope for the yoga-toned 35-year-old who retains the feminine charms of her younger self. Chin up, ladies, and keep praying that your younger rivals gorge themselves on artisanal cupcakes and 150gram sugar-infused coffee drinks!

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There’s nothing funnier than lonely, unloved feminists stewing in their angostura bitters. They bring out the sadist in me.

Down with couple-talism!

A reader forwarded a link to a website called Occupy Valentine’s Day, created by an ur-feminist who is the executive editor of Feministing.

[V Day] puts pressure on couples to be a certain way, it privileges one type of love (think heteronormativity!) and it makes single people feel incomplete.

Like most outcasts nursing grudges, she has a thing against normal people behaving in normal ways.

we can use Valentine’s Day to raise awareness about the limited ways we think about romance.

In the past, petulant sophists like this would be ignored and allowed to fade into obscurity. Today, they get a platform and a sympathetic media treatment.
When the degenerate is elevated to a voice of wisdom
and the customary and ordinary subverted
confusion arrests the strongest hearts
until weakness is to excellence inverted.

The goal of the OVD website, near as a sane person can tell, is a hodgepodge advocacy of the usual rainbow coalition and femcunt agenda crap, plus a general lashing out at love and anything that smacks of romantic gestures shared between a man and a woman (romantic gestures between man and man, woman and woman, and spinster and cat are perfectly fine, though).

Blog about how traditional ideas of romance perpetuate gender inequalities and hurt people of all genders

If taking my girl out to a romantic nighttime spot for heavy petting under the silver moon manages to perpetuate gender inequalities and make life miserable for the rejects who post on Occupy Valentine’s Day, I consider that a successful two-fer.

Have a sexy conversation by candlelight with your partner about structural inequity

You think this is a parody, but then you remember that feminists have no sense of humor. All real, all retarded.

Commit to never settling for anyone who is not good enough for you just because you are afraid to spend another Valentine’s Day alone

Ever notice how women with the fewest reasons to feel entitled are often the ones who most loudly proclaim their refusal to settle?

These are just a few ways we can use Valentine’s Day to raise awareness about the limited ways we think about romance.

Maxim #210: If you are using a romantic holiday as a pretext to raise awareness instead of raise erections, you are probably a fat loser.

Celebrating love is wonderful and romance can be great too. But we don’t need corporations to dictate how we should do it, a mainstream media chastising us for not doing it right or traditional ideas touted over and over by our friends and family.

Hey, I’ve got not problem with skipping out on the corporatized aspect of V-Day. I’ll be the first guy to tell men they don’t need cards and chocolate to inspire girls to feel love. Nothing kills romance faster than dreary obligation. The difference between me and this feminist loser is that I don’t make a capital case out of traditional romantic gestures as being somehow symbolic of hatred for weirdos, dweebs, fatties and fuglies who can’t get a date.

That shit is oppressive and hurts us more than helps.

You can pinpoint the exact moment in history when the West began its decline as the moment when we started caring what spiteful losers think. A little oppression and hurtfulness is a healthy society’s cleansing mechanism. Time to reoccupy the icy wastelands with society’s waste product.

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Maxim #1(a)(2): Men want to be turned on by their women. Women want to be proud of their men.

What do I mean by proud? It doesn’t necessarily mean she’s proud of your career success. It could mean something as simple and endearing as installing a mantle over her fireplace, so that when her girl friends come over for a party and ask about the fantastic looking mantle, she can tell them, with no uncertain amount of swelling pride, that her boyfriend did it. For her.

As for you women… well, men want you to look good. Period. That means:

Be hot.
Be thin.
Be young.

Now you can’t do anything about your age or your genetically endowed looks, but you can do something about staying slim and keeping yourself looking as good as possible by adopting beneficial lifestyle habits and, if necessary, “getting some work done”.

If you ask me, I think women actually have it tougher keeping their partner attracted to them over the long run.

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A crooked-faced atheist chick has set the net aflame with a tragic tale of threatening elevator courtship that could rival Caylee Anthony’s death by single mom. According to her, an inept atheist nerd propositioned her in a hotel elevator, which caused her to nearly faint with an attack of the vapors, like any equalist gender-normed feminist would do. In brief, a man entered the elevator with her at 4AM after a “skeptics” conference had ended, and proceeded to awkwardly and nervously ask her out to coffee, which she declined.

Yep, that’s the whole story. Riveting stuff, ain’t it?

But the important thing to understand is how Indignant Atheist Chick FELT. To use her words, she felt


Poor dear. And then right on cue a chorus of feminist commenters chimed in with accusations that the awkward elevator man was a potential rapist.

For a replay of the characters involved, here’s a withering rundown of the sordid affair, including links to limp-wristed nancyboys who couldn’t wait to jump like little doggies begging for table scraps from approving feminists.

Potential Rapist Syndrome is a mind virus infecting the brains of put-upon feminists all over America and Sweden. The slightest effrontery by a man not immediately deemed a charismatic alpha male by the woman victim causes the virus to multiply rapidly, resulting in flawed reasoning that imputes the worst possible motives to innocuous, if unattractively nerdy, male behavior. Using the illogic of this mind virus, any action that a man takes in attempt to pick up a woman is potential rape as long as she feels it is.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in the park? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in a bar? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out here or there? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in a house? With a mouse? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in a box? With a fox? Potential rapist.

Richard Dawkins was right. This is female hamster-fueled solipsism to the nth degree. The growth industry of Entitled American Bitches is feeding this female martyrdom indulgence in believing the Western world is out to get them. Only a foul bitch so full of herself, so enamored of her precious biological cargo, could wilt at the imaginary prospect that any man who awkwardly asks her out is itching to rape her before the elevator stops at the next floor. Hey Indignant Atheist Chick, Hogwarts called; they want their magical thinking back.

PRS is very similar to PMS in its symptoms. Women lose all logic and reason to a flood of hormones and emotional hysteria, rendering them unsuitable conversational partners until the episode has passed. Do not under any circumstance try to comfort a woman in the throes of PRS, or otherwise try to redeem your “inappropriate” behavior to make her feel better. She will simply lash out with increased rage, incoherent to everyone but herself, other sufferers of PRS and thimble-chubbed beta wankers hoping to sneak in their pants under cover of empathy. A woman experiencing PRS hates the mass of bumbling men for not knowing how to properly satisfy her desires for interaction with an aloof and charming alpha male. Like the PMS victim, any attempt to assuage her irrational torment will be met with an icy stare at best, and thrown objects at worst. Pointing out the flaws in the PRS sufferer’s anti-logic will be perceived by her as an act of psychological war, an imposition of your rigid male sexuality upon her enlightened female vulnerability and purity. Proceed with indifference.

Maxim #48: The feminist loathing of male desire is at the root of all their complaining about men and the dating scene. Feminists, in their hearts, despise the freedom and longevity of male sexuality. And they particularly despise that freedom when lowly beta males attempt to exercise it.

Thus ends the cultural dissolution portion of today’s lecture, and begins the game portion. Given the above, it will surprise some of the readers that this blog holds little sympathy for Inept Elevator Nerd. Asking a woman out for coffee before you’ve won her interest is bad game. Asking her out in an elevator at 4AM when she has nowhere to escape is bad game. Doing all of it with the nervousness of a beta herb who hasn’t had any for years is ZERO GAME.

Direct game of the sort that elevator dude “ran” is best used in open spaces where the woman won’t feel cornered. It’s good pickup strategy to give a woman the feeling of being able to freely excuse herself if she finds your hard sell lacking. A woman is more likely to allow her intrigue to flower if the man who approaches her with directness knows that she values an easy out should she need it. It’s an implied understanding that only men who have experience bedding women will know, and women know this.

Indirect game is better for enclosed spaces like elevators where the first goal is to make the woman feel comfortable in your presence. (Some pickup artists have successfully run direct game in elevators, but it requires a healthy dose of charisma and cocky humor, as well as the social savvy to defuse the inherent tension of small spaces. For example: “Oh, wow, an awkward elevator ride, just like in the movies. I’m getting off in three floors, so I’d better make my flirting count!”)

A man who directly approaches a woman in a context that offers her an unmessy exit is, in the woman’s hindbrain, a confident man unafraid of potential rejection. This is a tacit demonstration of higher value that will immediately set the tone of the pickup in the man’s favor. In contrast, a man who directly approaches a woman in a context that affords her no quick, polite escape is, in the woman’s mind and likely in reality as well, a desperate beta who needs to corner a woman to win an audience with her. She will easily and seamlessly rationalize this awkward behavior on his part as the machinations of a rapist’s mind.

Whenever you worry that the principles of game will become too well-known and overused by men, just remember Inept Elevator Nerd. The world is teeming with men like him who have zero clue how women work. Your worries that game will increase the competition above and beyond what female obesity is creating for the few remaining slender chicks in existence are unfounded. Inept Elevator Nerds continue to roam the plains in vast, undifferentiated numbers.

When in doubt about the goodness and righteousness of game, remember the fundamental rule of female magical thinking, gentlemen:

Beta = Potential rapist.

Alpha = It just happened!

No further explanation needed.

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If your girlfriend is complaining about your selfishness, you’re doing it right.

Your gift to her is that you don’t go around sleeping with other women.

Meaningless acts of romance are far more meaningful to girls than meaningful acts of romance.

Similarly, spontaneous expressions of romance will linger in a girl’s memory far longer than elaborately planned romantic gestures.

‘Romantic gestures’ is redundant. *Any* gesture done for a girl who already likes you is romantic.

Role-playing is worth ten diamond tennis bracelets in a girl’s captured imagination.

A girl’s urge to pressure you to marry is inversely correlated to her depth of love for you.

Corollary: a marriage ultimatum means she is on the cusp of falling out of love with you.

Love is as corrupted as any other barter in the mating market, but its great advantage is that it never feels that way.

Marriage counselors could save more marriages simply by uttering these two words: tease her.

The alpha male way to apologize for a minor offense is a shoulder rub. The alpha male way to apologize for a grave offense is cunnilingus.

All regrets and apologies should be expressed long enough after the offense was committed that a direct connection between offense and contrition is plausibly deniable. This is known as the Betafication Avoidance Buffer.

A strong relationship is defined as one in which your girlfriend’s friends all want to sleep with you.

Once a girl falls in love with you, she will stop taking the counsel of her friends’ opinions regarding your compatibility with her.

Corollary: You are then free to piss off her friends as much as you want.

Love is margin for error.

Love like an idealist, think like a cynic.

Relationships are more erector set than blank white canvas.

But when the time comes to paint, paint with the entire palette.

If she wants to see you one more day per week than you want to see her, you’re doing it right.

Texting is a great way to get out of hour-long nightly phone conversations, while at the same time keeping the embers of infatuation burning.

If she plans three dates for every two of yours, you’re doing it right.

A girl in love is one who withers as much from withheld compliments as from supplied criticism.

Give her an email address that you rarely access. There are many ways to stoke the female yearning for an elusive man.

Her infidelity is an automatic relationship or marriage terminator, except under one circumstance: she was cheating with your other girlfriend.

If she sneaks away to reapply her lipstick after every make-out, she is afraid she’ll stop pleasing you. Or she’s a street walker.

A bay window, a cool summer’s night breeze, and ambient light backgrounding fettuccine alfredo and pinot noir is the female equivalent of receiving the perfect hummer.

The neg never dies. It just fades away.

If she assumes the doggie position unprompted, you’re doing it right.

If she gives you mouth love without you having to ask for it, you’re doing it more right than you can fathom.

“You make me feel happy” is the pre-cum of a girl’s oxytocin-greased mental ejaculation. Her orgasmic “I love you” is less than one month away.

A good relationship is one in which you joke that you are her king, and there is an undercurrent of wishful seriousness in her playful response.

If you tell her you feel a little under the weather, and she comes over to your place with OJ, herbal tea, soup, and cough medicine, you’re doing it right.

Don’t rush the naturally emerging stages of the relationship. Men who rush things are insecure about their staying power. Men who have options are comfortable taking their time getting entangled with a girl. Most hot young girls prefer the latter; cougars, fatties, and single moms prefer the former.

If you are significantly higher value than the girl you are dating, don’t underestimate the degree to which she can become obsessed with you. An available alpha male giving signals of commitment is like finding a giant diamond lying on the ground in a state park; it just doesn’t happen for most girls.

When she starts inviting you on her vacations and business trips, she loves being with you. When she pays your way, she hates being without you.

Better she is an infatuated lover than a loving dilettante.

If you haven’t had an argument within the first two months, you’ve passed an important test. If you haven’t had an argument within the first year, you’ve failed an important test.

Girls take seriously their pets’ opinions of you. One purring cat can shave off seven hours of courtship.

Beware girls who always want to go to “events” or “do interesting things” with you. They fear the connection will break without the scaffolding of a contrived shared experience. If she’s happy sitting on a park bench with you people watching she’s a keeper.

Joyfully fornicate with girls who are always drunk when they’re with you. But don’t date them.

If a girl loves you, all problematic matters that would have presented an obstacle to the initial seduction become irrelevant or are actually turned in your favor.

After one month together, you will be astonished at how often and how vigorously a girl in love will qualify herself to you without you even trying to instigate it. Don’t interrupt her when she’s doing this.

It is a girl’s natural state of mind to question your worth when she is not in love. In contrast, it is her natural state of mind to question her own worth when she is in love.

When a girl is down on herself, do not try to lift her up. It is enough that you are there listening to her.

Saying less is always preferable to saying more. She will be inclined to imbue your silence with positive connotations, and your loquacity with suspicion.

Girls will sometimes preemptively break up with you if they suspect you are too much alpha for them. In these cases, the impending breakup is best averted by nuzzling your head in her boobage for ten minutes. Your body language should mimic a cat’s.

Occasional displays of testosterone (ODTs) are more effective, require less effort, and are more fun than “talking it out” when the relationship is rocky. Curse profligately, punch a wall, slam a door, grab a wrist, break a lamp, menacingly wield a heavy object, and disappear for days at a time — then sit back as she swoons and resubmits to your authority.

Preternaturally serene mindfucking is the ultimate ODT, but should not be attempted by men low in intelligence or feeble of will. Do not mindfuck girls who are less than an 8; you could destroy them for any future beta desperate to settle down with a has-been and populate the country with future generations of danegeld-paying cogs.

You know that song “Love is Like Oxygen”? There’s no such thing as too high.

You could spend $100,000 on a lavish wedding, but the thing she’ll most fondly remember is that erotic note you hastily scrawled on a cocktail napkin and passed to her under the table. Think about it.

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The One Truth Of Game

Reader “St” asks:

What is the One Truth of Game?

Here is the answer to that question –

Impress me.

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Maxim #98: Marriage is no escape from the sexual market and the possibility that you may be outbid by a competitor with higher value.

Corollary to Maxim #98: Singleness is no guarantee of full sexual market participation.

Expert level commenter Whiskey left a comment about the Tiger Woods affair on a blog I read (at the moment I can’t recall the blog) in which he stated plainly that each woman with whom Woods had a tryst was one less woman available on the dating market to other men. His point was that twelve (in reality, triple that number) Tiger mistresses (or whores, or skanks, or courtesans, whatever you want to call them the concept is clear) means twelve beta men go without a woman at all. Some of the commenters took Whiskey to task, noting, perhaps not illogically, that a woman living as the sex toy of a billionaire golfer is not necessarily off the market. There are six other days in the week, after all. The typical fuckhole might see Woods once a month, which leaves her plenty of time to date other men.

Comforting thoughts, but I’ll throw my experiences with and observations of these kinds of women in the ring and lend support to Whiskey’s point of view. On a ledger sheet, sure, these provisional paramours have lots of downtime to date other men. But a woman’s emotional contours are hardly amenable to the ledger. Unlike men, most women are averse to boffing multiple concurrent partners. It is simply not in the nature of women to be psychologically equipped to handle with grace and steadiness the crass rutting with Cock A one day and Cock B the very next day. Women don’t operate like that. They see a cock they like, they want to be with that cock, and if they succeed all other cocks recede to invisibility, at least until either their preferred cock leaves for good or they grow weary of that cock.

What I am describing is not a slut apologia. The infamous cock carousel that spins like a possessed Stephen King-ian carnival ride in our major urban centers is open for business. But it’s a turgid carousel of consecutive rides, one women normally jump off of before clambering back on to sit on a new, fresh horsey. They aren’t attempting to straddle all the horsies at once.

Now some women of the craving simultaneous schlong variety do exist. But they are extremely rare. Aside from prostitutes (who medicate their perforating souls with the salve of money, drugs, and complete submission to the pimp), only the foulest sluts and most rapacious sociopaths are constitutionally capable of concurrent cock hopping for pleasure and personal gain. Some of these stone cold sluts were likely positioning themselves in Tiger’s target acquisition periphery, and he clumsily obliged like the stiffly off-putting former beta droid he is. But it is also likely that some of his mistresses genuinely fell for the tingly feelings his power and fame gave them, and they forsook all other men to focus solely on Tiger, even if it meant seeing him just once a month.

So Whiskey’s observation has merit. If a man is alpha and unburdened by moral considerations, he will have mistresses and flings and hotel bar hookups. And in turn, those mistresses and flings will drift off the dating market, de facto if not maritally de jure. When an alpha captures a woman’s heart, even if for only a few times a year, her yearning focuses like a laser beam onto him to the exclusion of more available betas in her midst. She will be happier daydreaming of her unavailable lover than talking in real life with second rate suitors.

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

The Tiger Woods bimbo eruption has clarified the seedy underbelly of the sexual market within which we all operate, no matter how many Hallmark platitudes we recite to the contrary to assuage our pestering fears. People get wrapped up in the salacious gossip and revel in the downfall of a celebrity, but behind the jokes and snark of the gawking masses percolates a silent unease. Women spare fleeting thoughts that the men who love them might trade up to a younger hotter model if offers suddenly emerged. Men hide a slow moving but deep river of envy for any alpha male who makes the news by monopolizing enough women to sexually nourish the IT department of a large corporation.

Yes, in 2009 America, there are men who rule over harems. And there are many more men who are eunuchized by this dirty little reality.

Some of the quotes from Tiger’s flings are a case study in female rationalization.

Jamie Jungers (fling #??):

Jamie, 26, who bears a striking resemblance to Elin, recalled: “Tiger and I went back to the room and just started making out.

“It just went from one thing to the next. We ended up having crazy sex for two hours. I remember him picking me up and putting me against the wall. And that’s when it turned into wild sex. It was really good.

“Later I said to him, ‘I don’t know a whole lot about your marriage situation. I know it is very fresh. I know you just got married. I mean, is it going OK?’ He said, ‘Yes, it’s fine, she’s in Sweden with her family’.”

She’s banging a dude who just got married and she asks if his marriage is going OK. No one is that stupid. She asked because by asking she absolves herself of any guilt or accountability for what she is doing. This is how women think. They are submissive, empty vessels to their core.

Jaimee Grubbs (fling #???):

TIGER Woods was rated as “horrible in bed” by one of his lovers, it was revealed yesterday.

The damning verdict came from cocktail waitress Jaimee Grubbs, who says she had a 31-month fling with the married golf superstar.

One would think 31 months is a long time to fuck a man who is “horrible in bed”, but alphas get a lot of leeway. Or she’s just pissed she was turned in for a flashier upgrade.

The 24-year-old mistress told fellow contestants on US TV reality show Tool Academy she had also “hooked up” with George Clooney.

But while she was full of praise for the movie heartthrob, she mauled Tiger.

Telly pal Krista Grubb, 27, told The Sun: “She was showing all these texts saying they were from Tiger and George.

One she said was from George said, ‘When can I get in there again?’ He signed it G.

“She said she met him while working as a cocktail waitress in Los Angeles and they would meet up in Vegas and he was a lot of fun.

“Jaimee said George was amazing but wasn’t so nice about Tiger. She just kept saying he was horrible in bed.”

Let this be a lesson, men. If you want rave reviews from pump and dumps, live your cad lifestyle without apology. Women not only respect that in a man, they love it.

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Discount bin answer: Never.

Gamers’ Edition Bonus Pak answer: It depends.

I was at a small-ish film fest party for a guy who directed a couple of short documentaries. Crowd size: ~80-100 peeps, skewed toward women, most of whom were cute artsy scenesters who liked to wear woolen caps and scarves indoors. Because, you know, it might snow.

Three girls, all 7s, approached me and my friend to ask if we were “part of the creative scene”.

Clearly, a significant subculture of the residents are starving for the company of unconventional people who aren’t yuppie whores. And so, I give them that. I aim to please.

After a few minutes of light chit chat about my latest blockbuster mega-grossing film, I felt the energy of the set wane. They were slipping away. Girls are born with a self-entitlement region of the brain that causes them to assume all men were put on the earth to continually entertain them. This region is connected to the pussy through a single major nerve called the tingleginaceptor. When the pussy deteriorates through age, so does the entitlement region of the female brain. This is why many older women are so engaging in conversation; they have to be.

A player adept at seducing women knows to flip this entitlement script and demand entertainment from the women in his company. Game is the tool that helps with the script-flipping. But this time I ran no game. Instead, I let the chit chat dissipate, smiled warmly, and told them to enjoy the show.

I could’ve made fun of one of the girl’s scarves (“That scarf is all wrong on you”). I could’ve negged the hottest girl (“You look like the girl in the movie who got dumped by the guy. Are you her? Well, chin up”). I could’ve kinoed, isolated, made out. But I did none of these things. Why?

Because in certain specific contexts, I believe game can backfire. This was one of those times. A small, insular indie scene such as at a film screening, filled with people who likely are friends, or at least acquaintances, with everyone else in the room, and who have certain social codes that they follow and are only understood by themselves (e.g. don’t be a douchebag) are more apt to react suspiciously to game run on them by a relative outsider. (I do hang in the indie scene, but not this particular one.)

My spidey sense was telling me that had I negged one of the girls in the three set, it would have confused her. And not in a good way. Tightknit groups of people tend to want to feel newcomers out, to see if they’re cool, i.e. socially savvy. A neg right out of the gate might have tingled ginas, but it also ran the risk of emphasizing my outsider status. It’s best to demonstrate your in-group cred first before hitting them up with the thermonuclear love bomb of game. With very provincial groups, this getting-to-know-you process can sometimes require attendance at three or more events where you’ll see the same girls and they’ll have an opportunity to become comfortable with you. Blogger happy hours used to work this way.

There is a trade-off to every decision. The girl who interested me may not ever again go to one of these events. Or she may have been sufficiently bored by the non-game “normal” conversation between us to write me off as a future contender. If I had properly gamed her, I had a chance to initiate the short road to intimacy. But gaming her also posed the risk of stamping me persona non grata within the scene, possibly polluting my chances with other girls who knew my primary target peripherally.

Pickup is about experience. After enough time and practice, you’ll get a feel for these kinds of social riddles. But all in all, I prefer this rule of thumb –

Maxim #13: When in doubt, game.

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