Liveblogging The Oscars

Haha. Psyche!

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Direct Vs Indirect Street Game

Street game is widely believed to be the hardest game to master (although lately it’s been pretty good to me). Women are on the move, trying to get somewhere, often irritated by the day’s insults and lost in their thoughts. Striding aggressively in heels and pencil skirts, the sight of the urban careerist chick motoring to her paper pushing job intimidates a lot of men. So guys who have effective pickup openers for street game are worth heeding. In that vein, I’ve been thinking about the advantages of direct and indirect street game.

RooshV is the most well-known proponent of indirect day game. The crux of his early game is what he calls “the ramble”. You make a seemingly innocuous, nonsexual and open-ended comment to a girl and use that as a springboard to draw her into deeper conversation, eventually terminating in a number close. (It’ll be next to impossible to pull a chick for sex in the middle of the day during her lunchtime stroll.)

Full disclosure: I have used Roosh’s “pet shop” opener on chicks walking around outside, and I have followed up with his “When I was in X…” big bait hook, with positive results. His style of street game suits my temperament. So my opinion here is apt to be biased. Nevertheless, I try to keep an open mind about different schools of game, the most notable being the direct daytime approach. A good example of direct street game was offered by one of his commenters “Richie”.

The indirect approach (pet shop opener, ask directions) kills me. I find the inane ramblings excruciating and therefore I never want to approach.
The direct approach is equally ridiculous. If a girl came running up to me and told me she saw me and have to come over to tell me how hot I’d was I think she was desperate and slightly unhinged. No thanks. I want to come across a smooth motherfucker not a love struck teenager. It’s also awkward and puts too much pressure on both parties to say something to make the situation less embarrasing.

I have found a good balance which is something inbetween the two.

1. Walk ahead of your target or cross the road then back over again so you approach from an angle.
2. Glance back towards her as if looking for something.
3. Catch her eye and do a FAKE double take
4. Still walking say “You have an interesting face”
her “thanks”…
“where you from”…
(and take it away for as long as possible before number close)

This process feels more natural, impulsive and shows you are interested in her right from the outset so asking for her number doesnt feel ridiculous after you have just asked for directions or some other indirect approach.

This sounds like it has potential, and is especially appealing because of its calculated spontaneity. “You have an interesting face”, spoken from over the shoulder, is direct, but slightly backhanded, because “interesting” can mean a few different things. And it avoids the problem of running up from across a plaza and slobbering over a chick with cloying flattery, a la “You’re really cute and I had to say hi.”

My issue with direct street game boils down to two nagging concerns.

1. I suspect direct game works better for very good-looking men, i.e. men in the top 5-10% of looks. Direct game presents a chick with a radical choice right at the start, and cornering her like that will force her to rely on more instantly perceived judgments of your attractiveness, which means your looks and swagger. I’m having a hard time picturing ugly men pulling off direct game with any consistent success, but I would like to hear about the experiences of men who don’t consider themselves good-looking who run direct street game. I think for the majority of men, the average men, indirect game gives them an opportunity to sidestep the automatic disqualification that hot babes will often stamp on men who hit on them on the sidewalk with direct come-ons.

2. Direct game makes follow-up conversation difficult because it minimizes the opportunity for “the ramble”. This, to me, seems a major handicap of direct street game. “Where is the nearest pet shop?” opens up the conversation for hooking the girl with big bait. It allows you to veer down multiple conversational avenues, and this advantage helps men who are naturally tongue-tied when talking to cute girls (which is most men, really). Direct game, in contrast, closes off these follow-up paths. Many men will be stuck for something to say after dropping the “you have an interesting face” opener, or the “where you from?” follow-up. This goes double if the girl does not react positively and scrunches her face instead.

One more beef I have with direct game, and it’s a minor one, is the type of girl it will be most effective on. Direct game would theoretically work best on impulsive and, yes, dumber girls who better appreciate the stark boldness of an assertive man. Indirect game, with its reliance on wit, situational awareness and verbal dexterity, would work better on less impulsive, smarter girls (i.e. SWPLs) who appreciate these qualities demonstrated in men. Since my experience with direct street game is limited, I’m willing to suspend final judgment on this point. I may in fact be totally off-base about the smart girl-dumb girl dichotomy with respect to direct vs indirect approaches.

Regarding the direct gamer complaint that “girls are gonna know what you’re up to anyhow”, I don’t find this argument persuasive. Girls will know your intentions no matter WHAT type of game you use. In fact, any kind of interaction with a girl is liable to be interpreted as interest in getting her naked. So there’s no good reason to worry about her suspicions. Girls KNOW. The only question that should matter to you is HOW you want girls to know. Most girls like it when a man couches his sexual intentions in plausibly deniable flirtations and rambles.

Instead of giving you the answers you seek, I will open the floor to this question of direct and indirect street game. Readers who have experience with both methods are urged to leave their stories in the comments. Be sure to include pertinent information like your looks, smarts, style and the class of girls you normally hit on. The best contributions will be included in a future post hopefully bringing some much-needed clarity to this eternal pickup community conundrum.

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Why Nurses Make The Quickest Lays

There’s a good article in the Washington BetaPost written by a hospital internist who laments the growing disconnect between the reality of death and people living in atomized, urban enclaves whose affluence allows them to warehouse their elderly parents into chambers of horrors death’s waiting rooms.

Mass urbanization hasn’t been the only thing to alienate us from the circle of life. Rising affluence has allowed us to isolate senescence. Before nursing homes, assisted-living centers and in-home nurses, grandparents, their children and their grandchildren were often living under the same roof, where everyone’s struggles were plain to see. In 1850, 70 percent of white elderly adults lived with their children. By 1950, 21 percent of the overall population lived in multigenerational homes, and today that figure is only 16 percent. Sequestering our elderly keeps most of us from knowing what it’s like to grow old.

This physical and emotional distance becomes obvious as we make decisions that accompany life’s end. Suffering is like a fire: Those who sit closest feel the most heat; a picture of a fire gives off no warmth. That’s why it’s typically the son or daughter who has been physically closest to an elderly parent’s pain who is the most willing to let go. Sometimes an estranged family member is “flying in next week to get all this straightened out.” This is usually the person who knows the least about her struggling parent’s health; she’ll have problems bringing her white horse as carry-on luggage. This person may think she is being driven by compassion, but a good deal of what got her on the plane was the guilt and regret of living far away and having not done any of the heavy lifting in caring for her parent.

With unrealistic expectations of our ability to prolong life, with death as an unfamiliar and unnatural event, and without a realistic, tactile sense of how much a worn-out elderly patient is suffering, it’s easy for patients and families to keep insisting on more tests, more medications, more procedures.

The human impulse to detach from the specter of death is strong, so it’s understandable people would want to get away from it as much as possible. I have vivid memories of being escorted through an ICU ward, so heavy with the stink and sight of dying, mechanically assisted bodies contorted in pulleys and displayed in giant plastic bubbles, their lesions and bloat and sickly droop mocking the thread of life they cling to, that I nearly choke on the most fleeting recollection and search for an expedient distraction.

So I have to wonder how people who are surrounded by death all day, every day, manage the burden — families whose old, dying parents live with them, doctors who treat the husks of humans lingering in the limbo between living and the illimitable void. Most condition themselves to it, having honed a preternatural ability to sever their emotions from the constant reminders of mortality that accompany every dying person like a gloomy chaperone.

So what does this have to do with nurses and game, you ask? I have this running compendium in my hed of my lifetime lays, because of all my memories, it’s the ones spent intimately with lovers I strive the hardest to keep well-formed and prevent from dissipating into the murky mists. This is my tribute to their love. Some of these sex memories are technicolor brilliant, some are romantically hazy, some curiously abstract.

Two lays in particular stick out, both with girls who were nurses. And not GP nurses. One was ER, the other worked in a children’s cancer ward. They saw death, the worst kinds of death, on a daily basis. Sex with them was exuberant, unhinged even. There was little foreplay; they couldn’t wait to get their clothes off and my dick inside them. One would impatiently hike her skirt up and drop her panties as soon as I walked through the door, then back up into my daggering manhood, heaving a satisfied sigh upon penetration, like a junkie who just depressed the syringe.

While it was not, qualitatively speaking, the *best* sex I’ve ever had, it was certainly the most frantic, and the fastest from “hi” to “slide it in”. Both of these girls banged on the first dates. They were not ones for drawn-out seduction dramas in the bedroom of the LMR variety; kisses always followed couplings.

This is what those in proximity to death do — they embrace life more fully, and part of that embracing is total sexual abandon. For what besides sex, the generation pool of life, is a bigger middle finger in the face of death? Skydiving while having sex, maybe.

One of these nurses, it should be noted, had a father who was considerably older than her mother. Almost her whole life the looming of her father’s end must have surely weighed on her. Coyness was not part of her vocabulary. Hungry copulation was.

A familiarity with death might put a stop to escalating medical costs as more enlightened people choose to let their old relatives pass into the ether as part of a natural, unimpeded progression. It might reverse demographic decline seen in the form of childlessness, a condition caused in part by insulation from death’s omnipresence among the privileged class which obscures revelation of their finiteness. Familiarity has other benefits: it inculcates a powerful will to live for experience, to grasp that the doorstep of death misses no one, to apprehend that the luxuries of boredom and ennui are the province of the derelict who has fooled himself to believe forever is now.

But my favorite death-accepance benefit: quick lays!

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Are The Chemicals Of Modern Society Emasculating Men?

Has anyone besides proprietors of Le Chateau noticed the gradual feminization and masculinization respectively of the men and women of the SWPL class? Something is causing the sexual polarity to reverse in Western countries among the striver set. Is it cultural? Genetic? Biological? I’ve previously offered some tantalizing hypotheses, but none strike me as potentially paradigm-busting and significant as the theory that chemicals in our consumerist products are to blame for the gender bending of tomorrow’s leaders.

Findings from a new study suggest it may be your mother’s dietary exposure to bisphenol A (BPA).

Galea and Barha have all my attention now. Ever since my pregancy, I have been tracking studies on BPA’s subtle yet shocking effects. One of the most common chemicals in the world, bisphenol A is found in the stuff we use every day of our lives. Soup and soda cans. Water pipes. Computers. Cell phones. Thermal paper receipts. Paper money. Even some baby bottles—at least in the U.S., because they are not banned here.

Much of the trouble with BPA lies in its ability to fool estrogen receptors into thinking it’s estrogen. Imagine a man doesn’t know that the woman he’s marrying is really an alien in drag, and you have a sense of the danger here. BPA disrupts any process that estrogen normally mediates, affecting brain, body, and behavior. It also tinkers with the way genes express themselves, turning up those that would otherwise be turned off or down. BPA exposure has been linked to breast cancer, heart disease, obesity, diabetes, attention-deficit disorder, increased anxiety, a decreased IQ in children and a low sperm count in men.

Curious? Wait til you hear the ramifications that BPA has for men.

There is evidence that BPA emasculates males and makes them sexually undesirable. Galea and Barha’s opening lines in PSAS are tongue in cheek—they are describing a new study at the University of Missouri on the effects of BPA on deer mice—but the application to humans is implicit. Adult mice whose mothers were fed a dosage of BPA equivalent to what the USDA deems safe for pregnant women, were, well, different from other males.

“One of the prominent effects of early BPA exposure is that it eliminates a number of sex differences in brain and behavior,” the researchers wrote. It turned out that BPA-exposed males have impaired spatial ability (can’t find their way out of a maze or to their nest, considered unattractive to females). They also suffer from decreased exploratory ability (incurious and easily lost), and overall reduced attractiveness to the opposite sex. They may even smell different from their peers—in rodents, a sign of unhealthiness. Females are disgusted.

Holy mojitos. The effluvium of hypercapitalism is neutering the Western man. And judging by the man-jawed dyke-ish freaks of femalehood now coursing through the veins of our civil institutions, it’s not a stretch to think that BPA is concurrently adding chest hair to the Western woman. We may now freely speculate what this means for the future of our downward spiraling nation.

On a population level, how might BPA affect us? Might boys in the U.S. grow up to have poorer spatial skills—and, because it’s linked, weaker mathematical ability? Might they have little interest in exploring the world, preferring to hang out at home? Might our national temperament become more placid? Because BPA is lined with obesity and heart disease, will we become fatter and more sedate? And what about our sex lives?

Take a look at human history through the lens of hormones, as Harvard University’s Daniel Lord Smail did in his fascinating book, On Deep History and the Brain. Smail introduces a new view in which physiology and culture evolve symbiotically in a process driven by brain chemistry. Caffeine stimulated the body and mind, driving the industrial revolution and the modern corporation. Tobacco help us to focus and be calm. These substances changed the character of society. Now we have environmental toxins such as BPA (and other hormone disruptors such as phthlates and PCBs) that may also change our culture in subtle but very real ways.

The stereotypes of the video gaming, pasty, unmuscled nerd, the spindle-armed, mincing, passive-aggressive hipster, and the flabby, manboobed feminist suck-up mangina might have their origins in an omnipresent chemical found in, among everything else, motherboards, iPhone cases and buttplugs. Oh, the irony. And where is the chemical emasculation of men leading us? Pathological altruism, that’s where. Hello, self-flagellation!

The good news is that the effects of BPA can be mitigated by a diet heavy in folic acid and B12. Think dark greens, eggs, beans and organ meats. And try cutting back on the masturbation. Full balls are hungry for release and will impel you to strongly seek out vagina. Empty, shriveled balls are the telltale sign of a “man” who proudly wears a “this is what a feminist looks like” t-shirt and pulls his micropud to a tepid, dribbling anti-climax on an hourly basis as tears stream down his face. Don’t be that guy.

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It’s Time For Women To Woman Up

There’s been a lot of talk lately in the mainstream (read: leftist) media organs about the rising numbers of single moms and their bastard spawn in America, a dystopian trend to which hosts at Le Chateau were generous enough to alert the reading audience on and off over the past four years. The hand-wringing, the excusing and the rationalizing have reached a fever pitch as sob stories of tragicomic proportions litter the pages of esteemed broadsheets like the Beta Times. It’s a crescendo of heartwarming, anti-male anecdotes about poor, put-upon single moms with snot machines in tow bitterly complaining about the lack of good, reliable men.

Reading this gruesome tripe, something occurs to me. Not once, not anywhere, is the point of view of the typical man in these benighted communities across America examined. Nowhere did I find a mention, even the slightest acknowledgement, of the responsibility that women bear to attract a decent man for marriage and future fatherhood. It’s just assumed that men alone are the sex abdicating their societal duty, that all women need to do is show up, no matter how broken, bedraggled and burdened with bastards, and men will feel an overwhelming urge to marry these unfeminine, spiteful ogresses and provide for them. Yeah right!

Peruse any feminist or beta male columnist pontificating on the single mom + illegitimate hellion phenomenon, and the message condenses to a screech against male desire, tantamount to a lede saying “Men drop out, women and children suffering, men need to man up”. Someone should acquaint this crowd with the saying “it takes two to tango”.

If you want to know why men are running away from marriage, children and beta provisioning, one major reason is that the women available to these working class men are flat out disgusting. Take a look for yourself. What man of normal mental health and active libido wants to romantically woo and date, let alone marry, a beastly, waddling tatted mountain of pustulence with the issue of three other men barking and nipping at her cankles?

If you were a man with diminishing job prospects and stagnant wages thanks to mass low-skill immigration and automation, would you “man up” and “do your duty” for the sake of societal health and elite approval if the only women in your milieu are snorting megafauna hiding week-old salami in their stomach folds and eager to have you babysit their fatherless womb filth? Or would you say “fuck it”, hit the XBox and apply a dollop of asshole game to score a succession of flings and one night stands with the few remaining slender babes in your neighborhood?

And let’s not forget that economically empowered and government-assisted women, slaves to their hypergamous impulse for higher status mates than themselves, can’t help but winnow the pool of men deemed acceptable marriage material. When women say “there are no good men left”, what the astute observer hears is “there are no good men left thanks to a combination of my increased expectations and decreased attractiveness.”

So instead of facing the sexual market head on and grappling with its workings, you get “family values” white knighting numbskulls like BIll Bennett, lost for anything insightful to say, berating men for abandoning those incorruptible angels known as women, and feminists like Katie Roiphe, doing what feminists divorced from reality do best, recasting single momhood and bastard spawn into a valid alternative lifestyle that we should all show more tolerance toward, and redefining standards of civilized family functioning to avoid the omnipresent gaze of the evil eye of judginess.

And there you have the crassest self-deception of the traditionalist and feminist mindset laid bare: the former refusing to understand that standards of sexual behavior are a two-way street, the latter refusing to accept that standards of sexual behavior can’t be waved away to turn losers into winners.

If single momhood and bastard spawn are the blights on civilized Western society that all the data and real world observations indicate they are, then this blog’s simple program to save the institution of marriage is required reading for the “experts”. I’d add the following suggestions you won’t see in the mainstream media to encourage marriage and the formation of two-parent households among the non-elite classes:

Women —

Lose weight. Stop being so goddamned fat. Men are more willing to provide for women who are young and slender.

Learn to use contraception. Do not get pregnant outside of marriage. Men really don’t like taking on the responsibility of children not their own.

Try not to fuck around so much. Men are not enthusiastic about marrying women whose vaginas have played host to numerous cocks before them.

Government — 

Stop paying women for pumping out broods of bastards. You get more of what you pay for. Let the infants die of exposure if necessary. There’s nothing like the starvation death of a newborn child to clarify the mind.

Stop offering incentives to women to attend college and training classes. End all affirmative action for women. Governmental incentives like this effectively price working class men out of marriage contention.

Stop making laws that mandate companies have to accommodate pregnant women and mothers. Substituting big daddy government for beta provider men means fewer beta provider men.

“Experts” —

Relearn the valuable lesson that shame is a great motivator of human behavior. Stop normalizing the abnormal. Call a spade a spade, a bastard spawn a bastard spawn. This is the kind of hammer blow to the head that the lower classes need so that they know which life choices are good for them and which life choices are bad for them.

Do not be afraid to be judgmental. Judgment is alpha.

Self-esteem is not a virtue, it is a symptom. Get the causality straight.

Feminists —

Shoot yourselves. Seriously. You do no one but your own tender egos any good. Your semantic wordplay does nothing to thwart the inevitable reckoning.

Lords of Lies —

Start thinking about what kind of society your lies will create in the long term. That is, if you care at all.

Men —

Read this blog. If the rules won’t play by you, then learn to play by your own rules.

And finally, to the factory-farmed ivory tower sociologists studying marriage trends and turning out paper after paper of half-assed hogwash: there’s a whole other world out there. It’s the world of men, and in that world, men’s desires matter. You should think about incorporating that ugly reality into your theories.

In short, men will man up when women woman up. Because women, as the gatekeepers of sex, get the men they deserve. And, more often than not, what they deserve is what they want.

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Common Mistakes You Will Make While Learning Game

There is a cottage industry of anti-game, pro-feminist beta males who claimed to tried to learn the crimson arts but failed before seeing results. I suspect what happened to most of them is that they encountered some setbacks on their journey to higher quality, higher frequency poon, but instead of taking lessons from their losses they gave up and turned their frustration outward, against game and its advocates. What doomed them was a combination of defeatism, a lower than average starting suite of attractiveness traits, and unrealistic expectations of what game could accomplish for them.

Let me say, then, that I acknowledge their impotent rage. Most men who aren’t naturals will experience growing pains in their efforts to improve their game and success with women. I have seen all manner of mistakes made by recovering betas (and omegas) determined to increase their attractiveness to women. There is nothing unique or unsolvable about these common newbie game mistakes. If you are a beta starting out with game, you owe it to yourself to anticipate that you will experience the same setbacks that bedevil millions of men just like you traveling the same path of redemption. Anticipating mistakes means it will be a challenge to disappoint yourself, and your fortitude with thus be strengthened.

What follows is a list of the typical learning curve mistakes that men make while trying to become more charismatic ladykillers. I have pulled a couple of these boners myself, so don’t think there is a man alive who is immune to the occasional beta backslide once in a while.

Excitable Boy Syndrome

You’re pumped up for the night. Your face is flushed, your body is wired and your smile is a mile wide. You knocked out a three set of bicep curls just before hitting the clubs. You’re an approach machine. Look at you go! You’re so high on life and the possibilities of your newfound game knowledge that you forgot to remember chicks dig a man with state control. Chicks most definitely do not dig a hyperactive spaz. Don’t worry, soldier of seduction. The world is not going to run out of women tonight.

Overeager Reaction To Her Crumbs Of Interest

Your game has evolved to the point where you’re starting to get positive reactions from women. She touches your arm or pays you a genuine compliment or strokes her hair and beams ear to ear after you teased her. Pleasantly surprised and brimming with the sort of runaway horniness that has been fooled is on the cusp of being relieved, you respond with overeager gratitude, flattery and excessively loud laughter. Her brief window of kindness and flirty interest has opened your beta floodgates. You forget everything you learned and revert to the watery-eyed supplication of your puppy crushing preteen self. You push too hard for a romantic resolution, and you become outcome dependent. You know that old saying “Act like you’ve been there before”? Take it to heart. Chicks really do prefer men who don’t get too excited by female attention. Mystery called this attitude “active disinterest”, and that’s as good a description as any.

Fumble In The Red Zone

Your game has been smooth as silk. She’s standing with you on the sidewalk, a few kisses have transpired, and now you’re faced with the very real prospect that she’s ready to go home with you tonight. But the realization of this — the prospect that you may achieve your goal — freezes you. Instead of leading her to her exquisite doom with unstoppable confidence, you mumble something about maybe, possibly, seeing some band next week that you heard was good, your hands stuffed deep in your pockets. Her face slackens into disappointment. Your reward? A cavalcade of unanswered text messages and grotesque ponderings asking yourself “where did it all go wrong?”.

Overplayed Hand Syndrome

Wow! She really lit up when you dropped that neg! And look how she reacts so well to your cocky teasing. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Game works!, you say to yourself. So more game must work more!, you answer in reply to yourself. You start dropping C&F on her like it’s going out of style. Slowly, or maybe not so slowly, you notice she’s not laughing as much, not opening her body to you, and not tilting her head to expose her vulnerable neck to you. She’s turtling fast, and now she’s glancing around the room. You captured her interest, and she wanted you to follow up with a deeper connection. An emotional bonding that would have added dimensions to your personality. But you responded with more of the same happy-go-lucky douchery. Game is not a hammer; it’s a scalpel. Use it as such.

Say Anything Stupid Syndrome

Every man fears it: getting stuck with nothing to say. This fear issues from a place of pedestalization. “If I don’t say something witty right now to break this awkward silence, I will lose her.” So in his beta haste he overcompensates by spitting out a jumble of small talk at best, and vibe-killing self-deprecation at worst. When you have nothing to say, the best response is to… say nothing. Let silence be your ally. 90% of the time, a woman confronted with a man’s silence will restart the conversation herself. Once she does that, the seduction script is flipped, and she becomes the chaser, uncontrollably instilling you with higher value. Women who don’t restart the conversation are not invested enough in you, and you may take that as a signal to move on.

Easy Discouragement Syndrome

You’ve arrived. You haven’t started talking to any girls yet. A cute girl sits near you with her friend. You suck in air deep, preparing to deliver your opener. As you turn to face them, you notice across the room a very good-looking guy juggling the interest of three adoring women. Discouraged, you hold your tongue and nurse your drink, alone, for the next three hours. You mumble something about game not working because you can never compete with men like that. Self-satisfied that your failures are thus justified and irredeemable, you slink home while a man who looks about like you do begins making out with a girl at a different bar in the city tonight. I hope I don’t have to spell out the moral of this story.

Stubborn Refusal To Adapt Spergitude

You’ve just dropped an inspired DHV routine on her. But for some inexplicable reason, she hasn’t responded the way you thought she would. The way so many others did. Boredom snakes across her face. You get flustered. “What do I do now??” Instead of changing course to something that might prove more fruitfully engaging for her, you continue blasting at her bunker with permutations of your nigh-invulnerable DHV story, hoping that some new way of saying this or that sentence will be the key to her heart. As an aspie beta nerd with stubborn mule tendencies, you are a victim of your emotional straitjacketing. Learn to adapt in the field by trying new things on the fly. Don’t be afraid to abandon a conversational trail that has gone stale. I’ve seen it so many times — men who stubbornly fix to a line of thought when the girl is moving the conversation in a new direction. The best seducers are masters of opportunistic conversational hijacking, and will lead and follow a girl’s train of thought simultaneously.

Apologia The Destroya

Incoming shit test! Thankfully, with your encyclopedic game knowledge, you know how to disarm it. But wait… she didn’t get that faux shocked, slightly horny look on her face when you slapped down her attempt to belittle you. No, she’s didn’t take your reply well. Another shit test, a nastier one, flies your way. Your brain starts filling up with self-doubt and second-guessing, and instead of nimbly swiping her second shit test aside, you begin apologizing — in so many words — for your impudence. Ughh. Game over, man! You let your wimpy, trembling beta id out for a stroll in the daylight. She took one look at the poor benighted creature and her fangs and claws were bared for the kill. Expect that you will occasionally have to deal with nasty bitches with zero tolerance for weakness in men. It comes with the territory. Knowing this, you will be better prepared to avoid getting entrapped by a woman’s betatization program.

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Hypergamy, Sluts And Smart Women

A reader emailed a recent fascinating study that, AS PER USUAL♥♥♥♥♥♥♥, confirms many core Chateau concepts and related game strategies.

Although robust sex differences are abundant in men and women’s mating psychology, there is a considerable degree of overlap between the two as well. In an effort to understand where and when this overlap exists, the current study provides an exploration of within-sex variation in women’s mate preferences. We hypothesized that women’s intelligence, given an environment where women can use that intelligence to attain educational and career opportunities, would be: (1) positively related to their willingness to engage in short-term sexual relationships, (2) negatively related to their desire for qualities in a partner that indicated wealth and status, and (3) negatively related to their endorsement of traditional gender roles in romantic relationships. These predictions were supported. Results suggest that intelligence may be one important individual difference influencing women’s mate preferences.

Anti-game haters and various sore losers in life: reread the above for comprehension before commenting. You’ll save everyone a lot of scrolling effort to glide by your blockheadedness.

Let’s tackle the conclusions of this study one by one.

1. Smart, educated, careerist women (aka urban SWPLs) are more likely to want to ride the cock carousel (i.e., “engage in short-term sexual relationships”). That old game hater saw that only low self-esteem sluts and dumb skanks like to play the phallus field is the complete opposite of reality. It’s the smart, educated chicks who dig the cock and, by deduction, it’s the smart, educated chicks who will fall for short-term pickup game more than dumb chicks.

In one fell swoop, a cherished feminist and beta male shibboleth gets crushed into dust and blown away.

2. Smart, educated, careerist women are less interested in a man’s money or career status. This dovetails perfectly with the Chateau contention that female economic empowerment has led to a sexual market where soft polygamy — the clustering of financially independent women at the peak of their fertility (and beauty) around charming alpha males — is the new norm in blue state meccas. If money and occupational status mean less to smart girls, then guess what means more to them? You got it. Game. And who loses in this arrangement? Yup, boring provider beta males.

3. Smart, educated, careerist women are more likely to eschew “traditional gender roles” in romantic relationships. So it is the smart girls, not the dumb ones, who say screw it to marriage, dating, fidelity and lifelong monogamy while they are in their primes, and who are more open to fucking around, casual hook ups, cheating and, ahem, serial monogamy. This is, not to put too fine a point on it, a description of a pickup artist’s paradise. Smart girls do eventually get married at higher rates than dumb, lower class girls, but the relevant factor to the typical urban beta male is how many girls in his milieu are ready for marriage and/or long term relationships *during their 20s*, when women are at their most desirable. If the rising age of first marriage is any indication, not many.

Bottom line: your typical slut is a smart, educated woman.

So what does this have to do with that noted force of nature, female hypergamy? Well, if we premise our argument with the claim that female hypergamy always exists, and is always operational and acting upon women’s mate choice mechanisms (a claim entirely consistent with observed female behavior), then, given the study conclusions above, we are presented with the possibility that smart, financially independent chicks emphasize different male attractiveness traits when choosing mates than do dumb, financially insecure chicks. What are they?

Charm. Wit. Looks. Confidence. Social savviness. Social status (as distinct from wealth or occupational status). Charisma.

Most of these male attractiveness traits favored by smart chicks, yes, even including social status, can be grouped under the game umbrella. Game makes men more charming, witty, confident, socially savvy and charismatic. It even boosts a man’s social status. (Being known as a ladykiller is chicknip.)

Looks are the one thing game can’t change, but in most men’s experiences, women’s judgment and emphasis of male looks doesn’t much vary between the lower and upper class women, or the dumb and smart women. The study does suggest, though, that economically empowered and übereducated women probably will put more emphasis on male looks than will economically insecure, less educated women.

Now you know why poor, dumb religious girls swoon (settle?) at younger ages for provider betas relatively more than well-off, smart, secular girls. And why the latter can be found hanging off the arm of your local indie band singer before doing the smart thing and marrying a beta as her expiration date looms.

The trends in female mate choice I have described in this post go a longer way than any economic or class argument I’ve read to explain the coming apart of the white race in America as detailed in Charles Murray’s new book. Anyone who wants to take a long, hard look at social trends and the phenomena of “men dropping out” needs to incorporate into his thinking the cold, merciless, unrelenting reality of female hypergamy. To do less would be… uncivilized.

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