A Fail-Safe Way To Get Hand

I’ve written before about the utmost importance of getting the upper hand with a woman, whether in a relationship or out of it. The partner with hand is the partner who governs the direction of the relationship. Would you rather be the ruler or the ruled? And don’t bother clinging like a baby chimp to comforting but nebulous concepts like “relationship exactness and complementarity” that are dear to the equalist nancyboy brigade. There is no such thing as even hand in relationships. Sexual equilibrium is an unstable state that lures women to push the relationship into chaos. This helps explain why 70-80% of divorces are initiated by the wives.

Let’s say you’ve gamed a girl who is conventionally out of your league straight into bed. Your game established your power over her and your sexual prowess helped buttress her initial positive impression of you. But now, there you are, lying in bed in sweaty post-coital bliss, and you look over at a ravishingly beautiful girl you know has nearly limitless options in the sexual market, and who might even be banging another man and is just using you to tickle a tingle, and you wonder to yourself “What can I do RIGHT NOW to guarantee hand over this woman?”

Well, here’s a little something I learned in grade school.

After sex, most likely she will want to cuddle (DC lawyer chicks and MBA grads excluded). When she is rolling over to you for that expected warm embrace, you gently stop her and move her arms back over to her side of the bed. Then you say:

“Could you sleep on your side of the bed tonight? I don’t have those feelings right now.”

Pause for effect. If her lip quivers, but she makes no sound, you struck gold.

Now, soften the blow.

“Don’t take it personally. I just met you and I usually don’t warm up to someone right away. It takes time. You understand.”

For further softening, you may want to yawn heavily, smile, and add: “Plus, I need space when I sleep.”

The above is guaranteed to give you the upper hand with your amour for at least six months, or your money back. You will now be free to fart loudly in her company and eat hoagies while she blows you without repercussion.

WARNING!

This is the hydrogen bomb of hand maneuvers. Use sparingly, and only use on women who are above your league. If you drop this ego-blasting, pussy-busting, heart-palpitating bomb on a girl who already cherishes you and looks up to you in wide-eyed awe, you risk having her burst into tears. Have you ever tried to maintain an alpha frame with a girl who is wracked in heaving sobs? Lemme tell ya, it ain’t easy.

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Spot The Alpha: Red Carpet Edition

Before we begin, let me get one objection out of the way. I hate to break it to you guys reading (no I don’t) but your girlfriends and wives would cheat with any one of these celebrities I’m showcasing for this edition of spot the alpha, if the opportunity was there. Fame is the ultimate male aphrodisiac. Fame is more powerful than vast wealth, looks, or charm. On the numbers alone, it might even be more powerful than master game. While tight game can lock down a woman like no other male attractiveness trait, fame can make a million ginas tingle at once. The resulting oscillation can dampen tsunamis.

So compared to the average dude, all these male celebrities are alpha. But how do they stack up to their peers? That’s where it gets interesting. Because even at the top of the male status heap, one dick swings bigger than the rest. Who is the alpha wolf among wolves?

The stride is purposeful, but the beard is weak. Roosh’s beard laughs at you.

Verdict: Neoalpha.

She looks really happy submitting to his alphaness. It’s not just the hotness and quantity of women that mark a man as an alpha male; it’s also the strength of women’s attraction for him.

Verdict: Jail time buffed his alpha cred.

Nice gang sign, Romeo.

Verdict: Douchebag.

This guy obviously read my post on how to stand like an alpha, but, being gay, he overshot the mark.

Verdict: BHEYta!

Note how Matthew Broderick has his right hand pressed against his mare’s belly. There is an alpha way to declare executorship over your woman and a beta way. Hand all the way around smothering her belly and pulling her in is the beta way. Hand resting casually on her hip is the alpha way. She totally wears the spurs in that relationship.

Verdict: Mr. Not So Big.

Whenever a woman shows up with two men on her arm, people assume the two guys are unsexed beta orbiters or gay BFFs. Whenever a man shows up with two women on his arm, people assume he’s on his way to or returning from a threesome.

Verdict: The alpha power of preselection.

I’m a pasty white nerd with an Asian girlfriend!

Verdict: Beta.

Hand in pocket, feet shoulder width apart, head straight, chin up, chest out. Sounds good on paper, right? Unfortunately, you can understand alpha body language but still look like you’re trying too hard. I think it’s the exaggerated simian distance he holds his right arm away from his body.

Verdict: Lesser alpha.

Interesting… Was his hand caught in mid-swing, or is he sperging out about touching this chick on her back? Probably the former. If you’re this ugly and banging hot chicks, you automatically qualify as alpha no matter what your body language.

Verdict: Kill Beta.

Steve Carrell is that goofy beta who uses self-effacing humor to boost himself into greater beta status. What I’m not liking: the lean-in, the crooked bowtie, the first wife.

Verdict: Michael Scott.

If people can see up your nostrils, you’re keeping your chin at the appropriate alpha angle.

Verdict: The suave dances to the beat of the mojo.

This guy is arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood, but inside beats the beta heart of an A/V geek. After all his success, he’s still that hyperkinetic nerd who spazzes out around the cool kids. Here’s a hint, Jimmy Boy: Cool kids have a sense of humor. And don’t lean into your woman. PS: Avatar blew.

Verdict: CGI beta.

Hand in pocket (no worries), arm wrapped around girl with hand resting casually on her hip (territorial pissing), no leaning (self-actualized), girl nestled in chest (willful surrender), classic tux (no need to peacock at his status level), glint in eyes (“I fucked this chick in the limo on the drive over here”), and most damning of all, cocky shit-eating grin (“And I’m still not married. Weep bitter tears, fat proles.”). One flaw: Awkward foot placement (“Bitch’s annoying dress train is getting in the way”).

Verdict: You can’t touch this.

Writing this post was the most exposure I’ve gotten to the asinine celebrity culture all year. I feel dirty.

On a side note, notice how so many of the actors (it is PC nonsense to call actresses “actors”) in their forties look like they’re in their twenties? (Keanu Reeves, et al.) This development is perfectly predictable under the CH worldview. As women attain more and more economic empowerment and freedom from slut stigmatization, the average man’s provider beta status — once a reliable trait for attracting women into long term commitment — becomes marginalized. Thus, men under such a system begin to emphasize other male attractiveness traits in order to bed women; traits like game, assholery, and looks. The confluence of a new cultural paradigm, advanced dietary science, and plastic surgery has produced a generation of leading men who look preserved in a state of youthful repudiation of rugged manliness.

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I’m In The Weekly Standard

There’s an article called “The New Dating Game” in the Weekly Standard which mentions this blog. It’s written by Charlotte Allen and it is pretty good. But I do want to issue a couple points of correction.

Allen writes:

CH’s deliberately outrageous posts are a source of controversy. In a write-up on George Sodini, the man who shot up a gym near Pittsburgh last August, killing 3 women before turning the gun on himself, CH contended that Sodini, whose diary revealed that he had not had sex for 20 years before the incident, was simply a frustrated beta barred access to women by the sexual/feminist revolution and that “anything was justified” to avoid the “walking death” of celibacy. In other words, Sodini was a hapless victim of the sexual revolution.

In that infamous and widely misconstrued post (2,255 comments), what I actually wrote was:

When men kill women, the underlying reason is almost always an unfulfilled psychosexual need. This goes for spree shooters, rapists, and serial killers. I’m not surprised Sodini hadn’t had sex in nearly 20 years. As I’ve written before, to some men on the losing side of the desireability bell curve celibacy is walking death and anything is justified in avoiding that miserable fate.

I don’t personally argue that “anything is justified” to avoid the miserable fate of involuntary celibacy. I argue that some men who are losers in the mating race will be likelier to find any justification for acting out violently. I didn’t think this was a subtle distinction when I wrote the Sodini post, but judging by the storm of flapping vaj lips from the feministing crowd in response I should not have underestimated the deliberate deceit in which that post would be read.

Allen also writes:

CH himself, although arguably the most jaded of all the seduction bloggers, is actually a closet moralist who longs for the more constrained past when women dressed modestly (“Girlfriend or Fling?” is all about the kind of clothing and bearing that mark a girl as a “pump-and-dump”), refrained from swearing like sailors, stayed out of men’s beds (except his!), and generally conducted themselves like wife-and-mother material (although he says he has no intention of getting married himself).

While I argue that a sexual revolution instituted by a female-alpha male axis of ardor will ultimately result in the implosion of a secular modern society, I don’t long for a return to an era of chaste women holding out for marriage. I may describe reality as it is, and what it takes to prevent a first world nation from consuming itself, but I wouldn’t sacrifice my poolside pleasure to help the far-thinking forces of propriety reclaim a moral society that put a lid on loose pussy.

Postscript: I was asked via email by Allen to do an interview, but I had decided against it. I figure whatever I have to say about blood, sugar, sex, magik I’ll say here. Although Allen’s article turned out to be reasonable (the exception to the rule when dealing with journalists covering the topic of sex relations), most reporters will twist an interviewee’s quotes out of context according to their ideological whim or emotional vendetta. Whatever ethical strictures used to govern journalism have long since faded away in a miasma of rank partisanship and propagandistic hackery.

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A Test Of Your Game

I recently cleaned out my George Costanza wallet of two year old receipts and this crumpled cocktail napkin fell out:

I don’t recall exactly but I think Roosh was with me when we had this napkin rendezvous with three girls sitting at the bar next to us. The cute female bartender I once biblically knew acted as our courier, ferrying the napkin between us and the girls. The exchange (including both sides of napkin) reads like this —

Me/Roosh: Do you like us? (check one) Yes [big box] No [small box] Maybe [small box]

Girls: What will you do for us? [box] Aruba [box] Dinner [box] It’s my b-day. Buy us shots. I have ID to prove it.

Me/Roosh: Turn over. [Huge box with checkmark already in it] Good conversation followed by tonguedown.

Girls: [Another box with checkmark in it] No thank you.

OK, here is your mission, should you choose to accept it. Put yourself in the above scene. The giggling bartender has just returned the napkin back to you and your buddy and you read “No thank you.” You look over and the girls are making haughty faces. Two of them look like they’re having fun, but one looks a little bitchy. The girls are attractive, although as with most kitten prides one shines brighter than the others.

What’s your next move?

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Icebreakers For The SWPL Chicks In Your Neighborhood

Is your neighborhood infested with status whoring but irresistibly cute SWPL girls? Then you need an icebreaker tailor made for their fastidiously ironic sensibilities. Let’s say you and the SWPL girl of your infatuations are sifting through a selection of $10 jars of almond butter at Whole Foods. Unless you are a savvy shopper, most stuff at Whole Foods is ridiculously overpriced. Knowing this, you look across your shoulder at her and say:

“If it isn’t overpriced, I don’t feel like I’m getting my money’s worth.”

Wait for her to smile (she will, if she doesn’t take herself too seriously) and enjoy that moment when your pinkies touch reaching for the same jar of almond butter.

Now you’re at the local dog park, a place where SWPLs can feel morally upstanding for giving their dogs the opportunity to run free on a scruffy patch of 10 feet by 20 feet crabgrass (artificial grass if you’re at the Dupont dog park.) A tasty number sits down near you with her pomeranian in tow.

“The great thing about dogs is that you don’t have to worry about moving out of the city when they get old enough to go to school.”

What if you see the SWPL of your dreams at the local bike shop, where she’s purchasing enough biking accoutrements to outfit a small, fitness-oriented Central American guerilla army?

“I really recommend that aquapac. It’s good to be prepared in case you get stuck for weeks in the wilderness of Rock Creek Park.”

Close your eyes. Open them! Now you see a cute SWPL babe at a Georgetown consignment shop. She’s trying on musty old hats.

“That hat would be even cooler on you if it was a man’s hat. And it had an Olympics pin on it.”

You’re at the famed E Street Cinema in downtown DC. You’re standing in line next to a SWPL babe to see a sub-subtitled foreign flic of mega-ironic proportions. (It’s originally spoken in Czech, dubbed over in German, subtitled in French and sub-subtitled in English.) You capture her attention while waiting in line to buy a ticket.

“I hope this movie comes with 3D glasses.”

You’re at an outdoor concert, standing in line to use the Porta-John. You get her attention and say…

Well, actually, nothing. There’s nothing flirty you can say while waiting to use a Porta-John. It’s just too gross.

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Poseur Pop Culture Reference Of The Day

Was Leo DiCaprio’s best role Arnie in the movie ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?’, where he played an annoying teenage tard who liked to climb tall objects? I believe that was his high water mark. Which I find kind of funny.

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Unemployment Busting The Mating Market?

Zeets sounded like a teenager who just discovered his parents’ 1980s era VHS porn stash.

“Dude, the women are coming out of the woodwork. I’m getting more than nibbles now. The fish are hooking themselves as soon as I drop the line in the water!”

Zeets has been blowing up the internet dating niche for the past couple of months. Multiple dates per week, and women were reaching out to him, texting him constantly about times to meet and what he’s doing for the weekend. And all this in DC. It’s as if the heavens parted and pussy shone down on his head like a beam of light.

“Why do you think that is? What’s changed this winter?”

Zeets stroked his goatee like a young Zeus. “Well, I can tell you what I think is going on. Most of these women I’m seeing are unemployed. That’s a big change from just a year ago when they all had exciting and wonderful nonprofit jobs. Now all those precious nonprofits have dried up. Suddenly these women are out of work living in an expensive city. A lot of them don’t have two pennies to rub together because of grad school loans.”

“And that’s where a guy with a steady paycheck can step in and clean up.”

Zeets jabbed a finger of exclamation. “Exactly. You take a guy like me, who knows his way around women, and who has a job and steady income, and it’s like putting a bulls-eye on my cock. Women are gunning for it. They’re not so ridiculously picky anymore.”

This conversation got me thinking about economic trends and how they impact the dating market. In most of the country, men are filling the unemployed ranks, not women. But DC seems to be an outlier. Women here are feeling the sting of the recession just as much, if not more so, than men. Accordingly, out of work DC women are adjusting their self-worth downward, and in the process becoming less spastically picky about what they require in a man.

It’s no secret that DC women are full of themselves. 4s think they’re 7s, 7s think they’re 9s, and cunty lawyers waving their big vocabularies and multiple degrees think they’re supermodels. I’ve discussed many reasons why women would be prone to overestimating their looks. Now you can add unemployment to the list of factors that influence how a woman perceives her mating value.

Women, and a lot of men, are stricken by a psychological disease known as projection. What women find attractive in a man is what they think men find attractive in them. All else equal, women generally prefer men with a steady income to unemployed men. And so they mistakenly assume men prefer to date women with a job and income. But men and women don’t neatly mirror each other that way. If the woman is good-looking enough, most men won’t give a shit if she’s out of work. They’ll be thinking of the lay, only the lay, and nothing but the lay. In fact, many men will go out of their way to date unemployed women, because they justifiably think they can date up a point or two when their designation as a job holder grants them a relative boost in status.

Maxim #31: Any change in the relative status between men and women introduces new instabilities into the mating market.

Women, however, almost always assign too much importance to their own employment status and too little importance to their looks or weight when subconsciously calculating how desirable they are to men. This phenomenon explains why DC, filled as it is with hard-charging alpha globocorporate cunts, is plagued by haughty 4s who think they can play a 7’s game. It also explains why women, now that the jobs are disappearing, are beginning to lower their expectations in the mating market based on a distorted self-evaluation of their sexual worth. Soon DC will resemble the less economically illustrious parts of the country, where a 4 is properly reminded she is a 4 every morning she wakes up and looks sadly in the mirror.

As long as women continue to believe their job status matters to men, regions where the recession has impacted heavily female occupations are going to be boomtowns for men looking for a chance to play out of their league. That 8 you thought was too hot for you? Well, now that she’s out of work, she just might give your beta provider ass the time of day.

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