An observation, from me own eyes and time spent nestled deep in the booby-trapped dating trenches:
Girls drop out of the nightclub scene around age 25.
Some sooner, some later, but the curtain call age for girls seeking men in da club is on average about 25yo.
Clubbing is a young woman’s game. It takes spunk, junk, (maybe crunk), and….most importantly….the youthfully hottie good looks to inspire a same night spelunk.
I feel I was born with a talent for getting inside women’s heads and knowing how they tick, so this is what I’d guess goes on in the concentric mini-brain of the girly rationalization hamster that spins the wheel fueling the superfluous careercunt maxi-brain which envelops it:
The girl who hits 25 — and recall the CH axiom that peak female beauty and therefore fuckability and muse-ability is between the ages 15 and 25, give or take a few outliers — subconsciously knows her salad days are behind her. She may still be a looker, but the competition is wicked and slicked, and if the coolestasfuckness men are the point of her losing her hearing and sleep shouting in nightclubs until 2AM, then she’ll be passed over for the ripest peaches.
So there’s that subconscious signal flare warning her of rocky outcroppings ahead, but more pertinently there’s that instant feedback she gets when the male gaze doesn’t alight as firmly forcefully obsessively and a little psychopathically on her fruit stand like it did when she was younger. She’ll get stares from men, but they won’t be from the best men, and their stares will break off earlier than they used to, and get distracted easily by passing nancies.
Footnote: The curtain call age has been steadily rising, because of a number of sexual market disruptions and trendlines converging in post-America. I predict we may see an average nightclubbing female age of 30 in the near future as an increasing horde of single, childless mimosaettes desperate to avoid the detritus swamping online dating return to the classic meat market haunts.
It’s useful to contrast curtain call ages for club grilles and club monsters. Twenty-five is practically the START of a man’s clubbing career. It’s not uncommon to see men well into their 30s working the club floors and whores, as long as those men haven’t let themselves go to pot and know how to dress with a masculine sexy flair. The club curtain call ages mirror the bioreality of male and female reproductive fitness windows: women hit a higher max speed but crash early, men a lower max speed but ride longer.
A 35 year old woman in the club is pitiable. A 35 year old man in the club is pardonable.
The curtain call age for bars is a bit older, if for no other reason than that the absence of loud techno music, bathroom bumps, and frantic dancing are a relief to aging bodies and angsty minds. Fully grown oldsters will shamble around bars and no one will bat an eye. Still, women don’t like to throw their mate choice prerogative in with bars, either, but will feel less uncomfortable in bars than they do in clubs dogging it out until their early 30s if they are single and (god forbid!) swallowing patriarchal Pink Pills by the barrel.
Last call in bars is usually late 20s for most women who have need of a bar’s services. For men, it’s late 30s, even up to mid-40s. It occasionally needs repeating, because platitudes that stroke the gynarchy’s ego are tasty and mollifying: the average man enjoys a surplus fifteen years of romantic possibility over the average woman’s dating lifespan. This is why a 30 year old woman “settles” while a 30 year old man “relents”. It’s the difference between catastrophe insurance and early retirement.

There’s really no age limit for bars. If you give off a youthful energy with a fun vibe, you can pick up women- it’s that simple.
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Not for men.
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25 is also the age at which women start trading in their fertility years for their careers in earnest. the late nights and heavy drugs and drinking doesn’t help them land that next big promotion in their shit marketing position, or improve their odds at beating out the other, younger, tighter girls in the office harem.
they trade in the club scene for the office scene, because, you know, shitty dead-end careers are just so sexy.
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This is why a 30 year old woman “settles” while a 30 year old man “relents”.
Funny, cause I’ve often felt that most of my friends burnt themselves out with always partying late, heavy drinking and the consequences that comes with that, mainly bad diets and no lifting.
It wasn’t until I was around 33 that I was like “hmm, there’s something cool about this” but I still didn’t hit any of the clubs hard. It was never really my scene, especially with all that jungle junk music they play.
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— especially with all that jungle junk music they play
Yeah, what the fuck is up with that. Can we have more White Energy, less nigger noise? It’s really ad here in Mordor, Gets a little better when I travel to other parts of the US.
A few years ago, I am at a sports bar where they’re having a DJ night. A younger crowd, on the prole end. Baltimore suburb. The DJ plays ooga booga shit so obnoxious, I am getting ready to tell the waitress I’m leaving. The other (younger) patrons mingling around the bar and having a good time, don’t seem to mind it. Then, something noteworthy happens: Journey’s “Faithfully” is played, and every single patron in the place, all being White and under-30 (thus there is no personal nostalgia involved), just lights up
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There is always a temptation to the primal (Augustine called it “concupiscence”) and to forget the white dignity hard-won and hard-wired into you by millennia of civilizing effort. The game focus of this site depends heavily on perishing the pretty lies. It is especially tempting when you see the Eloi-like end-state of too much civilizing influence, an influence that ignores and eventually denies the primal as subhuman or “that’s not who we are” or “the wrong side of history” in Thee Current Year. It becomes the false choice between the nigger and the pajama boy.
White man is the golden mean between savage and sap. And clearly we need a reminder of our barbaric strength these days to balance the scales, a Trump to counterweigh the depredations of the highly-placed niggerfaggot. Therefore: “‘hmm, there’s something cool about this’ but I still didn’t hit any of the clubs hard.” If you don’t lose touch with the inner-beast, there becomes less of a need to prove it to yourself.
Christianity squares the Eloi-Morlock circle via the Incarnation and Hypostatic Union.
Not half-man, half-God, but All Man and All God. Contradictory on the surface yet somehow intelligible and reconcilable. Christian doctrine’s great contribution to white psychology is its ability to power through paradoxes by divinely sanctioned fiat, not unlike the alpha method of solving conundra, very much in the vein of Alexander cutting the Gordian Knot. Man’s hypostatic union is similar, all angel and all beast.
Matt
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(((shakin’ mah haid… in awe)))
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Damn, son!
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17 – 23 Prime time
24 – Grey zone – lifestyle, genetics (mothers look) can tilt the scales either way
25 – 29 LTR cut off. Worth ONS or low-maintenance relationship. However, the club SMV still higher than of 99% of the present males.
30+ …Club scene dropout. Dropout in general. Many red flags to consider even sexual relationship. For a guy under 50 waste of time that could have been spent somewhere else.
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CH this is not a prediction it is a fact:
“I predict we may see an average nightclubbing female age of 30 in the near future as an increasing horde of single, childless mimosaettes desperate to avoid the detritus swamping online dating return to the classic meat market haunts.”
I know plenty of bitches in their 30´s or close to their 40´s who are still nightclubbing every weekend!!!
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Make that 30s to 60s and you got it.
More and more young women are staying away from bars and clubs thanks to fear of v1olence and creepy (old) guys.
(Old = 30+)
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CH, you have outdone yourself. This is not only True, but poetic: sound, alliteration, rhyme, meter, and ever-elusive consonant assonance abound.
You’re making writing great again, and we get it.
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This piece was particularly tickling of the ears. A new The Bard, peradventure?
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“Same night spelunk”
Talent.
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OT: showed this picture tonight to Mrs J and asked her “What are the chances that this woman was raped?”
Mrs J: [Pause] Well, you know, there are men out there who rape even really old ladies!
Me: How about 3 times, by 3 different men?
Mrs J: [Sigh]. I don’t know, some people live really hard lives.
Me: 5 times, by 5 different men, before she was 25 years old.
Mrs J: [Pained expression of horror] No, I don’t think so…
Me: 10?
Mrs J: NO!
Me: The actual number she claimed was 15.
Mrs J: [Rapidly furrowing brow and look of shock and disgust]: (Stunned silence)
Moral of story: when you find a good woman, lock that down.
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Now, if she had been living in Africa for a year, it could be possible.
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3 words.
#wewantGod
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In days of gold we dreamed on the heather
Beneath Heaven’s broad splendor that brightly shone.
Tonight we writhe in highwaisted pleather
Frantically doing things best left undone.
My locks are coiffed to tres chic perfection,
My alabaster limbs with glitter flicker.
My glassy gaze gives strangers an erection,
My thoughts are distant, on liquor, twitter.
Time threatens furrows, the prudes would warn me
And Beauty’s prime prances ‘fore an open grave,
And the Air’s Dark Prince muses to harm me,
But the beat goes on, and tonight I rave.
What have I to do with maidenly prudence
Or with the matron’s fond worrisome cares?
Why should I sit all alone and rue? Dance!
I’ve got left before me many fine years!
The Invisible Worm wings on the blast
And the omens are rich that Eyes Wide Shut
Was a documentary. But I have cast
Mine with the devils’ lot. Snort a line. Rut.
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CH: make this a post
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I hate poetry but love this poem.
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1st King and now Lucius, some powerful shit going on in these comments
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here in S. FL. there is yet another scene besides the pumping night club and the bar… it is the upscale restaurants like Blue Martini and others, usually attached to large shopping malls (like the one in Galleria Mall or Boca Town Center), where you rarely see young men hitting on young women; instead you see young men being picked up by older women (a 25yo guy I work with goes there to be picked up) or older men picking up young hotties (must have at least: Maserati, Boat, House on the water).
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I know precisely 2 older guys who are reasonably successful with much younger women.
One used to be a musician and music producer and lives in the local equivalent of Beverly Hills, the other uses pot to lure the semi-1nbr3d girls from outlying small towns into his hot tub.
And yes, the number of 20-something guys with 30- or 40-ish women is quite frightening.
The real world is getting uglier by the day.
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It’s because those older girls are more depraved and give better head.
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older women capitalize on the average guy’s lack of game and pussy-pedestalizing behavior by baiting their hooks with enticing “fantasy girl” bait.
for a guy with fewer options, or who is either too lazy and/or too busy to do the work of locking down the younger, hotter version, these higher mileage scratching posts can look pretty enticing. but because those crows feet, leathery skin, and sour attitude won’t inspire him to do great things, let alone get up in the morning, and because she won’t be satisfied by a guy who’s only with her for lack of more convenient options, those pairings invariably lead to copious amounts of misery for both parties.
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While not always the case and while they’re not tighter or softer, some older women come across as more elegant than the younger thots. But definitely few and far between.
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men are cheap
women can be priced
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You neglected to identify the progression after dance clubs & bars, which is art galas, as I’ve observed.
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“art galas”
I keep screaming at Mendo to get down to the Huntington, or out to the Getty.
…crickets…
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I’ve never been much of an art gala guy, but I guess this is where the “fake it till you make it” precept comes into play
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…and the festival circuit.
there’s a whole economy built up around aging vaginas and their beta enablers…and their feline companions…
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Straight, muscular, Hemingway/Richard Serra type of guy at the art gala. He did something awkward once, just to see how it felt. He cheated death once, too, and Death was OK with it.
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Giving a fuck while Hamburg burns:
https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/3974888/shocking-moment-randy-couple-caught-having-sex-on-a-balcony-as-g20-riots-explode-below-them/
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“Poolside”
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“I was born with a talent for getting inside women’s heads ”
Literally or metaphorically?
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Few months ago I wrote a blogpost responding to this toxic masculinity bullcrap and said: There’s nothing sadder and looking more desperate than seeing a 30+ girl hanging out in a nightclub.
Some ladys pretended not to get it, but most were aware that their ovarian tick-tock drowns out anything they shout at their prospective stud of the night.
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and it’s weird, when I was a young buck out of college, clubs seemed super daunting. This post may explain why.
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in usa, alcohol (and consequently nightclub) tight laws end up restricting white male options too much. also AoC, obviously
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Old lady flashes crowd at LA Dodgers game.
[video src="https://scontent-atl3-1.cdninstagram.com/t50.2886-16/19957983_1898274253793276_8488031669654126592_n.mp4" /]
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DUI arrests kill the clubbing spirit for many club hoes.
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