Flake No More

This is what happens when you take Chateau pickup advice to heart and apply it in the field.

Hey CH I was the one [bernieciz] who emailed you about the girls flaking with the “I’m sick excuse” so I tried out what you said and here is the result:

I called her and set up plans for tonight and eventually got a confirmation text this morning:

Heh, received this message today and it put a smile on my face:

I know what some of the less perceptive readers are thinking. “Where’s the successful close? She still flaked on him!”

Ah, not so fast, young pantywad. Context matters. You’ll note three developments that strongly suggest this second “sickness” text from the girl is not a flake (i.e., an excuse to bail). One, after the “flaky mcflakester” gibe, she promptly replied with a flurry of three texts. No girl does this for a man unless she has had her curiosity and interest (re)ignited.

Two, she initiated a confirmation text the next day. Again, a girl planning on flaking (a second time) would not do this.

Three, her second sickness excuse sounded sincere. She’s effusive with regret, and at least puts on a genuine show of intent to meet at some point in the near future. The fact appears to be that this girl is a flu magnet, and doesn’t want to meet while sniffles and coughing ruin her appearance.

My conclusion is that this girl is still down to meet, and I look forward to bernieciz giving us all an update soon.

PS If I were bernieciz, I wouldn’t bother replying to her last text. The balls are in her court now. No need to hammer out further mission directives. Alternately, bernieciz could tease her for her inability to stay healthy. “maybe laying off the hooch wd help you get better”. Or:

NPR Dweebs Agree With Heartiste: Chicks Dig Alpha Male Body Language

From deep in the Le Chateau crypt (2007), a post about common beta male body language mistakes:

Closed body language

Guys who are confident that nothing in life can touch them have very open and smooth body language.  Nervous guys who are always afraid of fights, of being sucker punched, of conflict, will defensively scrunch up their body as if they were psychologically warding off blows.  Guys who fear nothing open their arms, expose their chests, and generally project the look of someone who never worries about being caught off-guard.  In that vein, avoid shoving your hands in your pockets, crossing your arms, standing with a narrow stance, looking around the room with darting eyes, slouching, or grabbing one forearm with your hand.

Recently (2016), from an NPR broadcast,

To Catch Someone On Tinder, Stretch Your Arms Wide

[…]

In these experiments, the researchers compared young adults’ closed, slouched postures against open, or expanded, ones.

“An expansive, open posture involves widespread limbs, a stretched torso and general enlargement of occupied space,” says Tanya Vacharkulksemsuk, a social psychologist at the University of California, Berkeley and lead author on the study published Monday in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

For the 144 speed daters, Vacharkulksemsuk says, “expansiveness nearly doubles chances of getting a yes [to see each other again.]” […]

Separately, she and her colleagues had three men and three women create two dating profiles each on a popular dating app. (All six participants were white and heterosexual). Their profiles were identical in every way except the pictures in one profile were all expanded postures, while its twin had all contracted poses.

The participants swiped yes on every potential suitor — 3,000 in total — for 48 hours. “Profiles that feature expansive photos were 27 percent more likely to get a yes,” Vacharkulksemsuk says. Expanding made both men and women more desirable during speed dating and in the dating app. The effect was more pronounced for men, however.

Bolded to twist the shiv in feminists’ spotted hides. Sorry, feminists, dominance displays benefit men more than women! (You can tell how badly this shiv hits the shitlib bone by the alacrity with which the NPR writer avoided deeper examination of this equalist narrative-busting caveat.)

These postures convey power and openness, says Vacharkulksemsuk. “The information packing in that nonverbal behavior is social dominance, and where that person stands in a hierarchy,” she says. And, presumably, the person high in the pecking order is sexy. Alphas are scarce and in demand.

The reader who forwarded the NPR link asks, “Do you ever get tired of being right?”

No.

An Asshole Line Girls Can’t Help But Love

Here’s a line I sometimes toss out to faux bitchy girls glibly assuming I’m just another chode waiting to polish their pussy pedestals. As far as asshole lines go, this one is lethally penetrative of girly egg-bunkering egos.

The line is most effectively deployed on girls who are playing that “I’m too good for you” flirty game that is common among many prime hotties. You know the type. She’ll tell you, in so many words, how much better she is than you, or how you fall short of her standards in this or that way. It’s irritating, but also promising, because girls generally don’t bother with these sorts of vanity games unless they feel a pulse of attraction.

GIRL: “We could never date. You’re too short/tall/old/young/into your job/full of yourself/etc.”

THE COCKENING: “Great. You sound annoying anyway.”

DROP THE SHRIKE. I’ve yet to have negative blowback from saying this to girls. Sure, there will follow a tumult of indignation — all of it phony — but eyes will brighten, cheeks will redden, and muffs will moisten. HOW COULD YOU! HOW DARE YOU! WHAT’S YOUR DEAL?! And just like that I’ve trespassed her hindbrain, and she’ll start rationalizing reasons why we, in fact, could date.

One reason I rarely get negative reactions to this supreme gentleman’s riposte is because I tailor my asshole game to my recipient. Super-sensitive, shy girls a tit size short of an HB8 can be genuinely hurt by asshole-y lines like this one, taking it to heart that they really might be annoying, and this bad feeling will cause them to emotionally turtle or storm off in a huff and a bird flip.

Asshole Game is powerful, which means it must be wielded with skill. You could carpet bomb assholery and get laid more than slouching toward incel as a perpetual niceguy, but you’ll also lose a fair number of the less bitchy/less haughty/less egotistic girls who don’t have strong urges to succumb to a total dick.

Less egotistic? Yes! Contrary popular perception, girls with high self-esteem enjoy the charms of the asshole more than do lower self-esteem girls. A girl who thinks highly of herself — i.e., she thinks highly of her face and body as commodities to sell herself on the open sexual market — prefers more challenging men as potential partners in grime. On the other end of the female spectrum, less solipsistic or extroverted girls are thinner-skinned and quicker to bruise from backhanded compliments (tending to focus on the backhanded part) and reckless assholery. They can be coaxed into chasing assholes, especially if they’re hotter than average, but will weary sooner of commitment-averse, ZFG jerkboys than will stronger, more self-confident women.

Scoreboard Game (Women Want To Be Judged)

The ideology of nonjudgmentalism, primarily held by women, is better understood as female guilt transference of their secret desire to be judged. Women WANT a man who will judge them and make them feel if not unworthy at least short of perfection. This provides a pretext for the woman to prove herself to the man, which she will love doing because the act of pleasing arouses in a woman the feeling that the person she’s pleasing is above her and therefore deserving of her efforts. And though women will never admit it on self-report surveys, they get quite turned on by the challenge of satisfying a man who occupies a higher station than them.

With that in mind, here’s Twisted Alpha (Twatter handle @Twisted_Alpha) writing about a form of judgmentalism that women can’t resist,

scoreboard game. arbitrarily giving points for good behavior

He attached this screenie:

Adding or subtracting “points” from a woman’s conversational prowess (or even physical/sexual prowess) is a classic Game routine, and illustrates very well the theory of Qualification/Disqualification. There’s a reason Qualification is such an important Game technique: it works, and it works fast. Why does it work? In two words, female hypergamy. A magistrate is sexier than a sycophant.

So if you’re searching for a rhetorical ploy that will coax girls to aim to please you, try Scoreboard Game. And don’t be afraid to deduct points for bitchy or excessively coy behavior. The impact will be lost if you revert to the beta male norm of awarding hundreds of points to women for the accomplishment of possessing a vagina.

The Cisgender Genie

Three cultural adventurers — an antiracist, a feminist, and a shitlord — stumble upon a treasure trove. In the loot, they discover a magic dildo. The antiracist picks up the dildo with a great effort, his wrist flopping against the weight of the object, and rubs it. A genie ejaculates.

“I AM THE GREAT CISGENDER GENIE. I will grant you three wishes, but on one condition: the wishes will only benefit your next-born child.”

All three adventurers look at each other in amazement; the shitlord with his strong high T jaw and cliffside brow carving the air in front of him; the antiracist with his doughy face and watery eyes soaked in estrogen; the scowling feminist with her blue femmestache and “Syphilis Sisterhood” fupa tattoo.

The manlet antiracist, already struggling to maintain his grip on the tumescent didlo, goes first.

“I wish for a beautiful black daughter! That will show the world how committed I am to ending White hegemony.”

The genie booms, “Your wish is granted! Go home, and you will find your wife in bed with a 12-inch buck.”

Many years later, the antiracist would have his head caved in by his half-black daughter’s fully grown 9 year old black boyfriend. He will die with a smug grin on his battered face.

The feminist, creaming herself with the patriarchy-smashing possibilities, grabs the magic dildo (effortlessly, as if she had spent a lifetime handling such objects) and makes her wish.

“I wish for a smart daughter! Her smarts will lead her to the top in corporate law, and sufficiently privilege-checked male feminists will beg for her love.”

The genie announces, “Your wish is granted! In nine months, you will birth a 150 IQ daughter with the assistance of a noted Massachusetts sperm bank.”

Many years later, the feminist’s smart daughter, 32 years old, a lawyer, and clocking in at 250 pounds with a face that could cleave ice sheets, empties the bottle of pills into her mouth, tears streaming down as she remembers the boy from law school she loved who mistook her for a man and told her he “doesn’t swing that way”.

Finally, the genie turns to the shitlord.

“Maybe YOU will choose wisely?”

The shitlord ponders, (stoically, not theatrically, as is the wont of effeminate males). He thinks this is a mischievous genie, who will grant his wish with a baleful clause attached.

“I wish to make America great again.”

“Granted!”

Many years later, revolution shakes the country to the core. President Trumputin imposes an immigration moratorium. Unfair trade agreements are torn up, deportation cars haul illegal aliens back home by the millions, colleges have stopped offering black and women’s studies, gay marriage is repealed, SJWs and feminists are laughed out of public discourse, heteronormativity is the norm, the Middle East is abandoned to its petty inbred warlords, and America is great again. The nation is so great, in fact, that the shitlord has many sons and daughters, and all of them can buy affordable homes in high-trust White neighborhoods with good schools, and bless him with a small army of grandchildren.

Now an old man, the shitlord is visited by the genie one more time.

“Why did you not ask for a beautiful daughter or a smart son? Your wish unleashed chaos for millions of Americans, and guaranteed you nothing in return.”

The shitlord smirks, knowingly (is there another kind?). “A beautiful daughter may be dumb. A smart son may be nerdy. But a great America gives all her sons and daughters a better chance.”

The genie smiles and slowly vanishes, departing with a final promise to grant one more wish.

Without hesitation, the shitlord says, “I wish to make anime real.” And like that he is compressed into a 2D cartoon and teleported into an alternate universe, large-chested wide-eyed Japanese girls giggling all around him, happy to have defied his mortality.

Chateau Guest Feedback

archerwfisher arrived for his stay at the Chateau, imbibed of the house wisdom, and left a more virile man.

Got to test a piece of game off this blog, it worked well. Went to a college church group at my alma mater–I’m 24 so I can still fit–and it was handfuls of guys or girls sitting around here or there, and a few games. I was bored and had only said a few sentences to a few people, then walked over to a bolo game they had set up. Saw a cute brunette I had spoken just a few words with, sitting at a table chatting with two guys and another girl. Used the power of the Chateau–pointed and gave a “come hither” gesture. She says to the others “ah, I gotta go” and walks over to me, just like that.

This blog could cost $50 a month to read and it would be totally worth it.

Poon Be Upon You, sir.

The come hither gesture is high risk, high reward. Risk: takes real balls to pull off confidently, can backfire if performed with the slightest uncertainty. Reward: a positive response is *really* positive, practically greasing the skids of the next hour of conversation.

Approach Anxiety And The SJW

There’s a saying in the seduction community that’s meant to help newbs get over approach anxiety. Often, the neophyte womanizer will avoid approaching cute girls under the pretext that “she’s out of my league”. The PUA answers, “Don’t make that decision for her. Let her figure it out.”

It’s basically an argument for reframing perceived obstacles as opportunities.

The same applies to “alt-righters” tangling with anti-White SJWs (otherwise known as the dregs of humanity). The typical alt-righter has a habit of rhetorically neutering himself by acceding to the SJW’s frame. Usually, this neutering takes the form of “just to clear the air, I’m not a racist…” or “the alt-right isn’t *really* racist, their memes are ironic…”

This is bad stuff. It’s the equivalent of the insecure man excusing himself from the field in a hail of apologies for having the gall to possess a penis. “Oh, good madam, I’m not *really* hitting on you, it’s just an ironic pose of patriarchal conformity!”

Here’s a suggestion for the mincing princes of the alt-right: Don’t fight yourselves. Make the SJW fight you. Yes, you are a racist. (So is everybody, especially shitlibs who pay top real estate dollar to sequester themselves from racial vibrancy.) So what? Racism as it manifests in the real world instead of in shitlibs’ fevered fantasies is a normal and healthy human trait that invigorates group identification and assists cultural transmission.

A crib sheet of bracing realtalk for the alt-righters who backpedal from their ideas by summoning the irony cheat code:

Race-mixing: Lineage destruction
Homosexuality: Norm equalization
Diversity: Social disintegration

Irony is not the goal. Irony is the gateway.