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Archive for the ‘The Id Monster’ Category

The number one killer of your game is a function of time, but it’s not time. Time — a merciless decay directive that commissions the end of everyone — is too crude and imprecise an agent of character change to rely on for guidance. We need to measure a new reality closer to the heart.

Around age 11 or 12, preteens experience a significant reorganization of their brains. New neural connections are made while gray matter is “pruned”. This process continues throughout adolescence, and doesn’t fully end until the mid-20s, when the brain reaches its final resting phase. The adult you is, in a mental sense, forever 25.

The biggest brain change in the early teen years is the shift away from prefrontal development and the shift toward emphasis on the amygdala, the brain’s emotional center. We become limbic creatures, more feral and impulsive, once we hit our teenage stride, because our decision-making ability, especially under conditions of stress, is then relegated to the control of the amygdala.

There is a sound evolutionary reason for this brain change. If teenagers were overly risk-averse and worried about the consequences of their actions, they would never take those first vital steps to establish their identity by trying new things. Instinctive bravery, or stupidity, is what pushes baby birds out of the nest to fly. Without that neural window of risk-attachment encouraging teens to bust out of their comfort zones, they would never leave home, rightly calculating that life is perfect under the auspices of their hearth managers.

After those heady teenage years, there’s a slow loss in the mental capacity for satiating curiosity and for risk-attachment. This, too, likely has evolutionary origins. Adults who remain wild and thrill-seeking like teenagers do their own children no good, because what those little shits need more than anything is a stable family environment. We are as hard-wired to step into the comfort zone as adults as we are to step out of it as preteens.

There’s another word for the risk-attachment that defines the teenage/early 20s experience: Passion.

Game is all about taking social risks and withstanding blows to the ego. It’s about reckless experimentation. It’s about an inner energy that drives a man to seek new or better lovers and romantic experiences. It’s about denying the soothing siren song of comfort zones with a force ten tenacity. Game is, in its essence, the exalting of passion over passiveness.

Unfortunately, game has a mortal enemy, and it is the brain itself. The loss of risk-attachment — the pure energy of passion — for the gain of risk-aversion — the serene submission to contentment — will kill a man’s game more completely and with greater finality than physical shortcomings, than financial ruin, than even marriage and its punitive bindings.

The number one killer of your game is the same inexorable biomechanical algorithm that killed your passion and replaced it with placidity: Your changing brain.

If you are a man of keen mind, you may even feel this loss of passion. You’ll sense the changes partly in your day to day behavior and partly by way of the nostalgia fuel your living memory provides. Ironically, although the tragedy when viewed from an unbiased distance is immense, you won’t feel the pain of passion loss as much as you should because you won’t have the passion left to mourn it. Kind of like how I imagine a very old man gazes wistfully at a young beautiful woman while his cock remains undisturbed by the commotion.

Regrettably, there’s nothing on offer that could guarantee you avoid this date with dispassionate destiny. But there are weapons that may help you beat back the gathering storm of brain-reconfigured apathy and keep you seducing women in top form for decades to come.

1. Willpower.

If you can sense it, you can slow it. The first step begins with self-awareness. Instead of bleakly shuffling into that fading light like a gelded automaton, turn your mental howitzers against inevitability and embrace the fight. Go into battle knowing full well your defeat is assured but that you’ll have a blast blowing holes in as many passion-killing droids as you can center in your crosshairs.

2. Understand that experience can make up for some loss of passion.

You will get better with women as you get older. This is a natural result of mastering the dating market learning curve and accepting the psychosexual foreignness of the female mind. Improvements in your knowledge and self-control will mitigate some decline in your baseline passion level. To put it more succinctly, you won’t need as much animating passion to seduce new women at 30 as you did at 15.

3. Weightlifting/Testosterone replacement therapy.

Testosterone is the fark matter of the pooniverse. It’s soul juice. It’s the git ‘er done drug. It’s the molecular chakra that unites man’s head, heart and hogzilla. Weightlifting has been proven to raise T levels both temporarily and permanently, and this is true for most men who follow the Law of Iron. So does eschewing the modern high-sugar, high-carb fattyfest. Refusing to allow your T to sink into oblivion is a clarion call for more intrinsically summoned passion. (Recent evidence finds that estrogen inhibitors may work better than testosterone boosters. I leave it to the reader to research the issue.)

4. Spermatogenesis.

WARNING: Experimental territory. Enter at your own risk.

Read this comment. It’s anecdotal, but the associations he draws have some founding in the scientific literature, not to mention similarities with the conventional wisdom. Boost your sperm production and that wonderful I’M ALIVE blue ball feeling through the interventions of no-fap, HCG, and something called LJ100. Scrotum pressure is a pathway to scoundrel passion.

5. Set an expiration date on all your long-term relationships.

If you make it a principle to escape LTRs before the two year mark, you’ll evade comfort zone entrapment and artificially reignite that dreamy teen passion for new experiences and thrills, and screw the consequences. Your brain will rewire itself to accommodate the new stresses you put on it. Call it, whoremesis. Of course, as great as this is for your love life, it’s as bad for the continuation of the species and a prosperous society. Maybe you’ll figure you can contribute in a godly way to society later in life, after you’ve had your fill of the best kind of pleasures and passions, in which case you’ll want to save some of that archaic energy for your sequels.

A killer is coming for you. Heed the immortal yearning of Roy Batty — I want more life, fucker — and follow him into that rain to die kneeling as you were meant to… but not before proving to yourself and the world you’ll damn your destiny on your feet.

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In your travels across the landscape of women, you will encounter a few ice queens who play the soulkill game as well as any sociopathic man. The first exquisite experience with such a woman leaves one breathless with awe; the second experience invites reciprocal devilry.

I’m not saying e-eeevil women will carve you up with as much dramatic poise as Nicole Kidman does in this scene from Eyes Wide Shut, but I am saying these kinds of women exist and the flair they possess for digging deep to the male id and serrating it (usually after fellating it) is a power that would reduce most beta males (and some alpha males) to whimpering self-doubt or reckless vengeful rage.

Pop quiz for those aspiring to Amused Mastery Level of Alpha Maleness:

Given a similar situation, how would you respond to a lover pulling the “Check out my merciless female hypergamy” shiv on you? I know what I’d do. Let her finish her monologue, wait a beat for the moment to grow flush with threatening potential, grin, sit back in bed, and say “Cool story babe”. Better yet, if I were drunk and hadn’t the mental storage space for cutting quips, I’d get up midway through her speech and leave unceremoniously, as if the noise of her voice was giving me a headache.

To respond with fury or hurt would be perceived as her victory; calm dismissal is a tried and true shiv parry that enervates even the most sadistically charged thrusts.

UPDATE

Via reader PA. This scene from Witches of Eastwick is a case study in how an alpha male steals the frame and totally deflates a bitchy woman’s stream of emasculating insults. Be Jack’s amused mastery, and then, when your antagonistic lover has had the wind knocked out of her shivvy sails, go on the offense until her former snarling attack posture is reduced to a quivering crouch of passivity.

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eofahapi asks,

are you going to write about the Rotherham thing? It needs a voice that is not delusional like the “Not all Muslims are like that” blah blah blah.

There are two camps of thinking. One says Rotherham is the logical outcome of extreme white ethnomasochism, which is itself a manifestation of pathological altruism, a reflexive mental condition that evolved over millennia of outbreeding. In this take, self-loathing, holier-than-thou whites in positions of power (and less powerful whites refusing to demand accountability from their leaders) are so wedded to their equalist ideology that they will allow the rapes of 1,400 white women and girls by brown skinned goatherders to continue ad infinitum until they are called to the carpet by the preponderance of evidence (and by samizdat rebels releasing uncomfortable facts). This theory presupposes that the ethnomasochist ego is so tender and fragile it cannot withstand confrontation with ugly truths about the reality of race and diversity, so the ego acts to preserve itself with PC social rules that create a bubble of self-soothing pabulum which permits them to go on confident that their worldview isn’t discredited. Since ethnomasochists thrive on external validation from other ethnomasochists, what happens is that their status signaling apparatuses get warped into self-abnegating paeans to the lie that whites are the root of all evil.

The second theory is that the anti-white elite whites aren’t at all ethnomasochists, but are instead a burgeoning new (or orthogonally ancient) race of whites — and here I use the term race in its figurative as well as genetic senses — who don’t perceive themselves at all as part of a broader white identity that must be preserved against barbarian attack. If this theory is correct, the sacrifice of 1,400 white women to brown predations will hardly move them emotionally. They won’t feel sympathy because they don’t feel any kinship, and so for them to sweep the evil of non-whites committed against non-elite whites under the rug is practically a procedural formality with little consequence. If anything, they would welcome such third world predators as allies in their own psychological war against “less enlightened” whites.

Which theory is true, or more true, is debatable. What isn’t is that these traitors need to swing from the gallows soon, before their sickness infects us all and dooms us to extinction.

***

eofahapi also wonders about the nature of feminists,

Because we know that there are differences in male and female brains, if a woman had hyper testosterone, would she really be feminist? I am skeptical, because feminists tend to be not the most logic people. Feminism is a very emotion based movement, and if you try to challenge one with logic it usually becomes heated ad hominens.

Feminists appear to be burdened with the worst of each sex: The aggressive posturing of men combined with the emotional irrationality of women. Not unlike misbehaving children. And what do you do with misbehaving children? You set boundaries and punish them when they act up.

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CH has written about the problem of exploding female self-esteems, its causes and its manifestations, as well as the shallow (if broad) nature of the epidemic of bloated gogrrl egos and what it all means for players looking to exploit sexual market loopholes for love and romance.

Apparently (and unsurprisingly), the results from a recent social ❤science❤ study confirm CH field experience and idle theorizing.

Self-Esteem Instability and the Desire for Fame

The desire to become famous was examined among individuals with stable and unstable forms of self-esteem. Participants were 181 female undergraduates who completed measures of self-esteem level and fame interest along with daily measures of state self-esteem (i.e., how an individual feels about oneself at the present moment) for seven consecutive days. Our results show that individuals who possess unstable high self-esteem reported a stronger desire to become famous than did those with stable high self-esteem. These findings suggest the intriguing possibility that individuals with unstable high self-esteem may want to become famous as a means for gaining external validation. Implications of these findings for understanding the connection between self-esteem and the desire for fame are discussed.

181 self-reporting female subjects doesn’t qualify as a huge (or unerring) study, but it’s enough to glimpse penumbras of the womanly craving for external validation, aka attention whoring.

Why were only women studied?

We focused exclusively on women in the present study because previous research suggests that women were more likely than men to report being interested in fame as a way to gain status (Greenwood et al., 2013) and use their interest in celebrities as a way to establish their own identities (i.e., celebrity worship; Reeves, Baker, & Truluck, 2012).

Paradoxically, men gain MUCH more reproductive fitness from fame than do women, and yet women appear to crave fame more. It could be that women’s self-esteems are naturally more unstable than men’s self-esteems, and that women also have a stronger constitutional need to “feel good in the moment” than do men, so they turn to fame and facsimiles of fame (posting Africa AIDS kid pics to Instagram while assuming the missionary position (double entendre intended)) as a sort of palliative to rub their hamsters with the grain.

The most interesting aspect of this study (because let’s face it the results pretty much internally and externally validate generations of conventional wisdom about women’s natural disposition to flaunt their prime nubility goods for ego assuaging feels) is the finding that unstable high self-esteem women are the most likely to attention whore.

What is an unstable high self-esteem woman?

The present study focuses on self-esteem instability, which refers to fluctuations in moment-to-moment feelings of self-worth over time. Accounting for both self-esteem level and self-esteem instability is important because it allows researchers to identify those individuals who possess secure and fragile forms of high self-esteem. That is, individuals who possess high levels of self-esteem that are stable over time (i.e., stable high self-esteem) are believed to be secure in their feelings of self-worth because their positive attitudes about themselves appear to be well-anchored and do not fluctuate a great deal based on external circumstances. In contrast, individuals who report generally high levels of self-esteem but experience considerable fluctuations in their feelings of self-worth over time (i.e., unstable high self-esteem) are thought to possess a relatively fragile form of high self-esteem because these frequent changes in their self-esteem suggest that the positive views expressed by these individuals are at least somewhat uncertain.

Self-esteem instability has been found—both by itself and in conjunction with self-esteem level—to be associated with a variety of important life outcomes including anger (Kernis, Grannemann, & Barclay, 1989), aggression (Zeigler-Hill, Enjaian, Holden, & Southard, 2014), defensiveness (Zeigler-Hill, Chadha, & Osterman, 2008), interpersonal style (Zeigler-Hill, Clark, & Beckman, 2011), humor style (Vaughan, Zeigler-Hill, & Arnau, in press), academic outcomes (Zeigler-Hill et al., 2013), and psychopathology (e.g., Zeigler-Hill & Wallace, 2012; see Jordan & Zeigler-Hill, 2013, for a review). These results are consistent with the view that unstable high self-esteem reflects vulnerable feelings of self-worth that require external validation as well as some degree of self-deception (see Kernis, 2003, for a review). Unstable high self-esteem is thought to be associated with a wide array of negative outcomes (e.g., poor psychological adjustment, defensiveness) because this form of high self-esteem may lack the protective mechanisms that seem to shield those with stable high self-esteem from experiencing these outcomes. These results suggest that self-esteem instability is an important moderator of the associations that self-esteem level has with an array of life outcomes. Our goal for the present study was to examine whether self-esteem instability also moderates the association that self-esteem level has with the desire for fame.

In the study description provided at the link, you’ll read that fragile (unstable) high self-esteem women tend to be “unrealistically optimistic” and mean-spirited. Sounds about right. You know the type: Those hyperactive drama whores who backstab perceived enemies one minute with foul-tempered fury and then crow about how great life is the next with a phony sing-song chirpiness that’s carried aloft by bluebirds and garland.

The fame-starved, superficially high self-esteem girl (a close cousin of the BPD girl) is the bread and butter of nightgame pickup artists. To game one of these chicks, you have to know first that feeding her fragile ego is absolutely the OPPOSITE of what you should do. Once a SHiSE girl has gotten her external validation, her vagina shuts down. To keep that vagina open and curious, her ego needs to be kept on tenterhooks, always waiting and anticipating but never getting that next hit of validation. Not without clauses and stipulations, at any rate.

And do you know what game tactics perfectly exploit this innate weakness in the female psyche?

Disqualification (“Oh, we would never hit it off. You’re too uptight”).

Negs (“Nice hamster. Is it real?”).

Warning: You would never want to LTR or wife up a SHiSE woman. Her constant annoying need for validation will either drive you insane or drive you to jealousy when she strays to get her feels from other men. Cheating is almost inevitable with these types of girls, because one man can only externally validate her so much before the value of his validation, no matter how tantalizingly wielded, drops below the price of inflating her ego.

Maxim #29: Think of female egos and female vaginas as opposing forces. The more one is stroked, the less the other wants to be stroked.

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Her pockets are longer than her shorts.

Dat body language. It’s like she caught a whiff of dog shit. Betaboy doesn’t know it yet, but she checked out of their one-way playdate relationship long ago.

The story is here, in all its lurid, coalburning detail. I’m warning you so prepare yourself as you see fit. No matter what you tell yourself or others, the deepest recesses of your hindbrain will twitch in revolt. If you’re white. If you’re black, your heart will swell with tribal pride.

A white hottie with a soulless gaze cheated on her beta “””boyfriend””” (see above). And by cheated, I mean she triple lindied into a Rwandan pre-machete spree pep rally and had her clam shucked and pried by a diorama of dark continent dick. Pics and video and insta-taunting tell the tale. Rumor has it the video and pics didn’t catch all the action, and the full measure of her character was assessed by twelve mugging mandingos tickling the back of her throat.

I do enjoy a descriptive id punch.

[NB: She's leaning poolside. Looks like she's a product of a happy middle (upper middle?) class suburb. Witness born for those who want to insist race-crossing sluts are all low class land whales.]

As repulsive as is her self-mockumentary, what her sackless beta shitlapper borefriend did next was (if it’s possible) even more repugnant.

I’ll give you one guess what it was.

.

.

.

.

Drum pail, please….

He forgave his princess.

He forgave her after being subjected, no less, to a barrage of very personal muh dikking.

A man shames not just himself, but his male ancestors and male descendants, the whole lineage in a straight line from past to present to future, when he defends the honor of a dishonorable slattern. He betrays his close kin and extended race. He surrenders his dignity. He prostrates himself for a pence of peripatetic pussy. He is the human equivalent of shit speckle on a public toilet seat. I could carve a better man out of a banana.

Now, if the “””boyfriend””” had just said (in so many words), “Hey, I had my (weirdly platonic) fun with this discount bin whore, and now I’m cutting her loose based on the available evidence of her unsuitability as a long-term mate”, all would be forgiven of him. Her… not so much. But that is stain for another day.

Naturally, given that the attention whoring has grown beyond her limited means of message discipline, the party favor skank has tried to play the “I wuz drugged” get-out-of-slut-shame card, but no one is buying it. As well they shouldn’t. Post-cock rationalizations always carry a whiff of desperate image consultancy.

Where was her father in all this? Has he self-delivered in the aftermath, or did he essentially self-deliver from raising his daughter long ago? There are 99 ways a father can fail his children, but this way is FATHER FAIL numero uno. You’d have to be less than human to not feel the burn of shame if you were this father. Will he show his face in public again? Or doesn’t he care? Is this escapist self-annihilation — by both white father and white daughter — the new growth of an invasive society species that chokes to memetic death the value of fathers and the forward-thinking modesty of daughters?

The less judgmental among you could argue she and her pitifully loyal white knight lapdog and absentee father are sick in the head and deserve compassion. Maybe. But I tend to another hypothesis: What we see happening around us is the symptom of a society that has relinquished all controls over female sexual prerogatives. Female sexuality, when left unattended and free to do as it pleases, often travels into very dark and depraved cul de sacs, and can circle there for generations, creating a vortex that sucks in all civilized life to a pathetic and predictable doom.

Worse, this removal of restrictions on female sexuality has been accompanied by a perverse reaction in the opposite direction to confound men about the true reproductive nature of women. We see rising lockstep with rank sluts a hapless loser beta peasant class who are so ignorant of the masculine behaviors and vibe women crave that they meander helplessly through a sexual market minefield, bouncing bettys bouncing them from one bloody heartache to another. Repeated romantic failure inculcates in the young beta male’s mind a hopelessness that circumscribes his options well beyond what a realistic appraisal of his SMV would demand.

And so what we have here is what you see with this particular beta male… a stockholm syndrome-type of pathological clinginess that feeds on a feared lifelong incelibacy and is conditioned by this fear to rush to the defense of manipulative psychocunts who play ping pong with his blue balls while joyously gobbling the knobs of hooting ferals who live and die on liberating instinct.

***

Flyover naifs claim that plenty of “good girls” can be found. I’ve no doubt. I have lain with many good girls, and have nothing but the fondest memories (of memories made and memories in motion). But that is a non sequitur. The question isn’t whether there are good girls left in America — there are — but whether their numbers as a percentage of the whole are retreating. We have only our life experiences, anecdotes, and coldly sterile data to consult for answers. (Which normally is enough for examination of routine human behavior, but never is when we put the microscope to the monstrous vitals of the lust-fueled id.)

On the life experience and anecdote metrics, these sordid self-debasements of the slut-proud social media class seem to be increasing in frequency and dramatic flourish. Each week brings a romantic ignominy to top the previous week’s sexhibitionism. Girls raging gleefully at the dying light of patriarchal civilization; men raging impotently at the dying loins of their once virile majesty. One simply can’t help but notice change is a-blowin’ in the wind. And personally, I have accrued enough boudoir time with enough high society ladies to know that there is hardly a one — no matter her class, education, intellect, or family background — who doesn’t have clattering skeletons in her walk-in closet, and fewer still who aren’t practiced in the art of camouflaging otherwise.

(And bless their ladylike hearts for feeling the need to attempt the camouflage to appease my masculine prerogative. Truly.)

Data-wise, the evidence is murkier. GSS self-report surveys hint at a sexual cocooning strangely at odds with the growing portfolio of Facebooked frolicking. If true, it perhaps suggests less a hidden chasteness than a bifurcation in the sexual market, split between evangelical virgins and blue city girls gone wild.

The current CDC data veer more toward affirming the anecdotal, but there too the pussy picture is unclear. Some sexually transmitted diseases are on the rise, but teen sex is down (while teen pregnancy is up *head scratch*). Age of first sexual intercourse is up, but rates of throat and anal cancers in younger women are up as well. “Technical virgins”.

(Do white girls slot a 12-dick coal train into the “technical virgin” category? Kind of like how fucking a dog doesn’t really steal a girl’s virginity? It might explain a lot.)

It is as if two worlds — one a last stand by a besieged former empire, the other a new world disorder where chaos reigns supreme — are in our day locked in a death struggle for preeminence. And here we are, living it in technicolor splendor.

It shouldn’t bear repeating, but every time one of these slutbombs explode in the Chateau gardens, there are invariably “players” who chastise Your Unholy Greatness for his perceived judgmentalism and self-defeating yearning for a better past filled with better women.

Yes, reports tell of a past America that was better. Not better in every way, but better in the ways that mattered. And yes, I will admit to some giddy despair over the dissolution of a nation that no longer lays claim to my heart. But I also won’t look a gift ho in the mouth. If a cute girl makes it easy for me and wants to screw after ten minutes of meeting her, I won’t stop her. I won’t conspicuously judge her, either, except by the bewilderment and pain I plant in her when I prematurely recuse myself from her girlfriend expectations a few weeks (or months, if SMV is 7+) later.

The slut is souldead! God save the slut!

The slut is a useful tool. Great fun, great sex, horrible long-term investment. And that’s not just a gut feeling. The whitecoats confirm. There’s a sound evolutionary reason (white) men are attuned to signs of sluttitude and women are aggrieved by sluts in their midst.

And that’s really the crux of the whorecrux. A girl who surrenders her every orifice to a pack of howlhounds live-streaming for a studio audience the slow flaying of her soul will become the woman no worthy man will think twice about marrying. Her humiliation, so abject and complete and perfunctorily recorded for posterity, (though for now she only feels it in fleeting sensations on the back of her neck late at night through the self-medicating haze delivered in warm liquid doses by her muscly rationalization hamster), will render her utterly unmarriageable to the vast majority of quality men with options. This stone cold reality will make her life incalculably harder, and wrest an incalculable torrent of tears from her mother and an incalculable tribute of emotional withdrawal from her father.

A merciful god would find some way to attenuate their torment. God helps those who help themselves. (If by chance some cleansing… salvation… were to befall the family, it would serve a valuable lesson for the others.)

A father’s shame, more profound, maybe, than his daughter’s. Because what is a father’s mission critical job as regards his daughter? It’s to preserve his daughter’s honor and see her off into the world the kind of woman a good man would want to take up. A failure to complete this job discredits him as a father like few other failures can.

This is the normal state of affairs, and shame and guilt have evolved to ensure that civilized fathers and daughters comport themselves in line with the prevailing social norms. But shame is dead in the West, and guilt is following soon in its brother’s wake. Social norms divide and redivide like a multicellular demon embryo, partitioning into separate and competing camps unsurprisingly in line with the diversity of seed that contributed to the demon’s corrupted cuckolded conception. Le Chateau stands a citadel against the alien revocation of these timeless forces of civilization, and for that we are despised by the wayward and wanton. More deserving enemies we could not pray for.

These horror stories always remind me of a fitting song.

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Nothing like a leetle auto-fill search query to pry open the lid on the female id.

The urge to trade up is stronger in women than in men, both because male sexual attractiveness is contextual and mutable and because women are disposed by the circumstances of their biology to be more careful about their mate choices. Women, unlike men, are practically born with their SMV already established. A pretty wife will stay attractive to her husband as long as she stays pretty. There’s not much contextual nudging, other than drastic weight gain and aging, that will greatly influence a woman’s SMV. So that’s why we uncover evidence that there is greater concern among women about lost attraction for their boyfriends and husbands than there is among men about lost attraction for their wives.

Continuing with the theme, here’s the same query after a small syntax change:

The rewording is subtle, but important. The first query is premised on an accepted loss of attraction, and a post-hoc search for rationalization. This second query is premised on a deeper worry about a missing attraction that should be there. It’s the type of wording a despondent searcher might use if he or she was trying to make sense of the dying love, and interested in fixing the “problem”.

The results are telling. The first hit — men asking why they aren’t attracted to their wives anymore — implies that there was previous attraction, but some mysterious occurrence (age? fatness?) changed the equation, and now the men want to know how to go back to the way things were.

The women, starkly, ask in a way that could be fairly interpreted as never having had attraction for their husbands (or niceguys). They have these wet noodle beta hubbies and orbiting niceguys whom they are inculcated by everyone around them to lust after, and yet despite the social pressure they can’t understand why the men they should desire leave them feeling… unmoved down there.

The final search result reinforces the point about social pressure yielding to primal desire. Presumably non-black women, steeped in a culture that propagandizes the sexual and romantic allure of black men, struggle with deeply innate feelings that are at odds with the juggernaut of cultural messages telling them to feel the opposite way.

Female hypergamy is real, even if the term is off-putting to around-the-way sadists. Cultural influence is real, too, but largely ineffectual against hindbrain desire. Intense and persistent media propaganda can only effect changes in human mate choice at the farthest margins, where the weakest-willed are most susceptible to social pressures to fit in with a mirage. Innate sexual desire is a prime force too powerful for the depraved elite’s mindfuck machines to overcome.

Hat tip, reader “Humans are animals” for the idea.

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A reflexive male impulse to white knight for women may have evolved because, one, enough women in the past sexually rewarded men who went out of their way to protect female virtue and, two, the precoital penumbras of female sexual vice are fainter than the leery male sexual vice, and therefore more easily missed or misinterpreted by constitutional white knights.

White Knights and Pussy Polishers provide a useful context for the topic to be discussed in this post. Many men, especially pedestal-primping provider-primary beta males, are utterly oblivious to any signs that their girlfriends or wives may be growing romantically removed from them. Worse, when a man does feel that sinking feeling that his woman’s nethers retract to his touch, he reacts with self-abasing misunderstanding of the nature of her sexual withdrawal, often wrongly supposing his own fault and figuring that more of what she claims she wants from him is exactly what she needs.

More cynically, there’s an ego protective mechanism in men, evident in its advanced stages in married men, to elide the existence of, or the causes for, any romantic dissatisfaction percolating in their lovers.

Given the characteristic white knight urge of men to, basically, assume the best of women and the worst of themselves, it should come as no surprise that women often begin cheating in their hearts long before their boyfriends or husbands are aware of the limbic detour. The stereotype of the befuddled beta hubby oblivious to the real reasons for his wife’s foreclosed desire is a sitcom staple.

Luckily, you are honored to be on the elite Chateau Heartiste guestlist, (“I’m an H-lister!”) which means you have access to knowledge that the ancients pondered. Here you will learn what signs to watch for that betray congestive infidelity in your woman’s heart.

She has stopped spontaneously touching you.

White Knight/Pussy Polisher Imagined Cause: She’s reacting to your emotional distance.
Real Cause: You lost that alpha male mojo.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Tenderly express your feelings so she’s comfortable being intimate again.
CH Solution That Will Work: Slap her ass after flirting with a waitress in front of her. Ass-ownage is 9/10ths of the law.

She’s stopped acting jealous when other women talk to you.

White Knight Imagined Cause: She’s matured into a secure woman with a healthy self-esteem.
Real Cause: You no longer inspire her to mate guard.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Compliment her on her independence.
CH Solution That Will Work: Dread game.

She’s nagging all the time.

White Knight Imagined Cause: You aren’t doing your share of the household chores.
Real Cause: She’s becoming repulsed by your beta stink and lashing out by subconsciously emasculating you.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Be a helpful househusband.
CH Solution That Will Work: Tell her to shut the fuck up. Leave for a few days. Don’t say where you’re going.

She’s stopped asking for your opinion about mutual concerns.

White Knight Imagined Cause: She’s a strong independent woman who has learned to think for herself.
Real Cause: She cares as little for your opinion as she cares for your dick in her pussy.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Leave all decision-making to her.
CH Solution That Will Work: Rudely inform her when you think she’s about to do something stupid. When she complains that she didn’t ask you, act nonchalant. “No shit. But I said it anyhow.”

She’s stopped dressing like a feminine woman in your company.

White Knight Imagined Cause: Love is unconditional and she doesn’t have to prove herself to you all the time.
Real Cause: Women don’t try to please men they don’t want to fuck. You’ve become weak.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Learn to appreciate her ratty sweatpants.
CH Solution That Will Work: Have another woman’s perfume on your shirt collar.

She’s staying longer hours at work.

White Knight Imagined Cause: She’s an ambitious woman.
Real Cause: She wants to fuck her boss.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Support her!
CH Solution That Will Work: Come home even later than her. Humming a happy tune.

She’s making impossible demands.

White Knight Imagined Cause: Her demands are reasonable. You’re letting her down.
Real Cause: She turning into a cruel bitch who hates having to live under the same roof as you.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Supplicate harder!
CH Solution That Will Work: Agree and amplify. “Yeah, I’ll do that right after I bang your mom’s hole ten ways to Sunday.”

She shows no appreciation for what you do.

White Knight Imagined Cause: Whatever you’re doing for her is not nearly as much as she’s doing for you.
Real Cause: You turn her off and she’s lost any desire to please you.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Drop passive-aggressive hints about feeling unloved.
CH Solution That Will Work: Stop doing things for her. When she notices, tell her, “You have two arms and hands? Use them.”

She’s never satisfied.

White Knight Imagined Cause: You aren’t treating her like the strong, independent woman she is.
Real Cause: She despises you.
White Knight Response That Won’t Work: Compliment her. Cuddle her. Perform cunnilingus. Ask for nothing in return. Promise to do more.
CH Solution That Will Work: Flip the script. Get her Skittles for her birthday. Make her do favors for you.

The number one sign that your woman is thinking of cheating may be a monthly biological process, which moderately correlates with all of the above signs.

The male infidelity urge resolves itself quickly. When men start feeling that tug toward fulfilling their primal genetic compulsion for poosy varietals, they will, if unburdened by scruples, execute in fairly short order and without the psychological torture that emotionally distancing women will put their men through. But a woman’s winding road to infidelity is longer, twistier, and unmarked. She’ll take a while getting there, and she’ll drop moldy bread crumbs for you along the way, but once she’s there she’s never coming back, not in the same way you knew her, and you won’t be able to reach her when she’s that far out either.

A woman’s unfaithfulness is like Ebola; by the time you’re bleeding from the eyes, it’s too late. You have to catch her waywardness early and deliver the proper correctives — 90% of the time, this means stop being beta. At the first notice of any of these omens of unfaithfulness, you have a window of opportunity to switch her bitch off. Dial down the beta provider comfort giver, and dial up the alpha lover excitement giver. If you are already at the stage where she’s denying you sex on flimsy pretexts (“My cat needed his asshole Nair’ed”), it’s probably too late. Her heart has left your stable and is trotting away for alpha pastures.

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