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Dan readied his stick and plunked a ball in a side pocket. Relishing his fleeting achievement, he raised his eyes to check if Nadine had bore witness to his excellence. She hadn’t. Gruff, caustic Robert, his misshapen nose and squirrel’s nest hair coaxing annoyed leers, was directing to a general audience of three girls a crack about drunkenly seeing twelve holes and the improvement to his game that was sure to bring. Nadine was one of those girls, and Dan squelched a perturbation of despondency when he saw Nadine’s eyes shine for Robert’s boisterous wit.

Nadine was Dan’s project. He met her, he welcomed her friends, he introduced them all to his friends, he slept luxuriously fitful nights imagining Nadine warming to him and reciprocating his feelings. Kind, pretty and, lately, eager to hang out with him and his buddies, Nadine was unassailable. Dan allowed renewed confidence in the value he offered her. Soon, he would ask her out. He just needed a private moment. They’d been out together as a group enough that Dan believed Nadine was hoping he would lurch at a pretext to corner her alone and deliver the magical words she’d been secretly anticipating. Dan occasionally wondered if the moment, when it came, would be so flush with spent resolve that they would seal the agreement with a passionate (but endearingly tentative) kiss.

Dan: “D’ja see that bank shot?”

Robert: “That bank shot wasn’t good…”

PAUSE FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT

Robert: “…that bank shot was GREAT.”

Nadine: *laughs*

Dan: *smiles weakly*

Robert: *touches Nadine’s chunky girl friend with chalky side of stick*

PAUSE FOR DRAMATIC REACTION

Chunks: “Hey! Not nice!”

Robert: “Blame Dan. He bet me I wouldn’t do it.”

Dan: “No I didn’t.”

Robert: “Come on, Dan, you’re always causing trouble. Don’t try to hide it.”

Nadine: “He doesn’t look like the one causing trouble here.”

Dan: “Thanks, Nadine.”

Robert: “I knew there was something between you two!”

Dan had always taken to understand that he was a handsome, if aesthetically understated, man. He certainly saw nothing in Nadine’s limpid gaze to suggest extended exposure to his countenance irritated her. If Dan were to count up the hours spent in Nadine’s company, (an exercise which, in point of fact, he did one evening while nervously fiddling with the bracing decision to text her one mere day after they had spoken by phone, the nerve!), the sum of their unspoken love would add to a considerable investment of life energy.

And so it was with naive expectation that Dan foresaw no interference, nor any of the usual social rifts that erupt when the sexes mix, issuing from Nadine & company’s enfolding. He was therefore emotionally denuded when Nadine’s redirected attention usurped his blueprint of steady bonding. A sickening awareness jammed his guts as he recorded the mounting toll of Robert & Nadine’s wet glances, slithery torso feints, forearm grazing entreaties, and joyously faux indignations, each a sharper dagger than the last. He sunk his last shot, and excused himself to “make a call”, which no one heard, nor needed to hear.

Seven years later, Robert would be married to a svelte, head-turner blonde, and they would reside in a charming suburb. Dan would have moved to another corner of the country, met an uninspiring but trustworthy woman, and married as well, settling in a jurisdiction not known for its disruptive temptations, but not mattering anyway. Government statistics would show that Robert worked in a high-stress field and had one child with his comely wife, and that Dan was a productive contributor to state coffers and had two children by his wife.

Acquaintances who knew Dan would say if asked that he was a happy, well-adjusted man. A real stand-up guy, a normal guy. The sort of guy who had everything going for him.

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A reader passes along a screen capture of a text exchange he had with a girl who has a boyfriend she obviously worships as a king and duty-bound patriarch.

I thought you would get a kick out of this. Little background: this chick ended up doing facials, anal anything on demand. As of current I am in a relationship with her best friend who she introduced me to and she even endorsed me. They are no longer friends and she is on the rocks with her current bf bc he knows she still wants me. If i could change one thing I would’ve  left out the “Lol.”

The reader’s poetic musing are on the right.

This is a thing of beauty. You’ve got a little bit of “Nah” game in there, lack of punctuation game, and all of it delivered with tingle titillating aloofness. This reader has expertly put into practice Poon Commandment V, always give less than you receive from a woman. If this text convo were displayed on a Jumbotron, he would feel no shame, for he would know the audience of millions understands he is getting plenty of action from this girl. And it is the audience that would feel ashamed that they intuitively know this, and will thus spend their whole lives embracing romantic platitudes as salve for their chafed soulholes.

The only question is, would the reader have achieved level A2M had he left off the “lol”?

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The Alpha Male Pose

hbdchick passes along a photo of her favorite alpha male pose (and favorite alpha male, Steve MOTHERFUCKIN McQueen). I looked at it and, accepting the risk that the following judgment might imbue perceptions with a certain je ne sais queer, I concur, this pose is superlatively alpha.

Let’s examine in as normal and non-spergy a manner as possible what it is exactly about this pose that declares ALPHA in a deep, masculine, gravelly, yet single malt smooth seductive voice.

– Only half his body is engaged with her. The other half is turned away, as if he’s debating whether to devote his attention to her, or to bolt for the horizon and limitless freedom. Chicks dig men who aren’t fully domesticated committed (or can’t be).

– He’s looking down at her paternalistically. Show of dominance.

– He’s draped his arm over her shoulder, but lightly instead of possessively. Show of dominance + arousing display of non-neediness.

– Tousled bedroom hair. Chicks dig dudes who look like they just shagged an army of fembots. Preselection ftw.

– Is that a wedding band on his finger? I can’t tell, but the fact that it might be is catnip to girls who love the thought of a man who is both desired by women and nuptially attainable. Plus there’s the ugly fact that women LOVE LOVE LOVE stealing taken men.

– Short shorts accentuate the groinal bulge. Believe you me, girls check out the package. And they aren’t very sly about it. Once you’re alerted to the reality of women’s degenerate desires, you start noticing how often their eyes travel to the tip of your genetic spear.

– You don’t see her face. Her focus is totally on him, and her breasts are pressed into his chest. Her pose is almost as crucial to the perception of his super alphaness as is his pose. Again, preselection ftw. But not just any old preselection. LOVE preselection.

– He’s bending one knee. A subtle play on perception that he’s contemplating leaving her and going his own way. Or, that he’s about to set off on high adventure and take her along for the ride of her life. Either unspoken assumption is attractive to women.

– He’s holding onto a wall? refrigerator? as if he wants to go but she’s pulling him back into her orbit by force of her femininity. Plays on the female love of taming a wild, wandering man.

– “I think I’ll just graze your ass with my fingertips instead of hungrily paw at it like a lifelong incel.” A man who has plenty of women in his life demonstrates his sexual satiety with aloof gestures of detached self-control.

– Black and white photos will make any man appear more alpha (hint for you Facebook whores).

– She’s not a fat slob. Obviously, any man who can seduce a thin babe has something on the ball.

– He has a slightly annoyed expression. Chicks love it when men look a little pissed off, like they could fly off the handle at any moment.

– The composition of light and dark and focal length is a factor. Note that blurry, rumpled bedroom(?) scene, shrouded in shadow, in the background. What the female viewer’s mind concocts: Ooh, a den of iniquity! Naughty man. *TINGLE*

– Overall, the pose subcommunicates, “I just anally destroyed this woman, and now I’m kinda bored and want to get the hell outta here and hang with my buds, but goddamn her eyes are pretty.” ALPHA.

So, fellow gentlemen readers, if you want to cop this alpha male pose for yourselves, find a pair of vintage Ocean Pacific shorts, Dippity Do your hair with your fingers, swagger around in public shirtless, grab any nearby refrigerator, and lean away from it into the heaving breasts of a height-weight proportionate lover. Bonus alpha points if there’s a creepy mask symbolizing the peeping tom celibate omega male staring at you with seething envy.

UPDATE

It should also be pointed out that it appears McQueen is standing in the contrapposto pose, which has been proven by science to be attractive to women.

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A 30 year old couglet writes to Slate’s Emily Yoffe (first mistake) about the strange pull that an unemployed, alcoholic alpha male ex-fling badboy has on her romantic imagination, while a loyal and NICE dentist betaboy who’s practically begging her to marry him can’t seem to fire up her loins. Bonus track: The badboy nearly gave her herpes.

I would leave everything I have to be with [the guy who almost gave me herpes and dumped me after a weekend of multiple orifice violating that I wouldn’t dream of allowing my beta dentist fiance to do to me].

Five minutes of alpha…

A regular CH reader, Zombie Shane, left a comment over at Slate (amazingly left undeleted) which sent the femborgs and manboobs ululating into righteous, backboob swinging, indignation.

Two points:

1) Women are incapable of knowing what they want – if they knew what they wanted, then they’d be men.

2) What this particular woman wants is what every woman wants – the gina tingles which come from the dangerous liaisons with an “alpha” cad – not the bed-death predictability which comes from entering into the prison which is married life with a boring, dependable, politically-correct, utterly emasculated “beta” dad.

Alpha cads, not beta dads.

That’s what women want.

So either dentist dude can step it up a notch, grow a pair, and start acting like a man, or else he can prepare [or at least he ought to prepare] for a lifetime of raising a family full of children who were biologically sired by the likes of her tennis instructor at the country club.

“dutchshepherdconspiracytheory” replies,

Oh so glad one of the menz could tell me what I wanted.

Anyone who (erroneously) pluralizes words with the letter z is guaranteed to be a triple-chinned nerdo leftoid or cauliflower-thighed chunkster chick. No exceptions.

Is it the alcoholism, unemployment or herpes that women love about sexy badboys? No. What women love about them is their ATTITUDE.

The attitude dictates that you don’t care whether she comes, stays, lays, or prays. I mean whatever happens, your toes are still tappin’. Now when you got that, then you have the attitude.

The Attitude is sex panther cologne reformulated to work 100% 100% of the time. The Attitude is powerful enough to induce in women a quasi-catatonic, chronically orgasmic state that renders them unable to discriminate against men failing on several objective measures of conventional mate worth. Many sexy cads with venereal diseases, low future time orientation and crippling addictions do well with women because they possess The Attitude, and that is often all that’s needed to outcompete beta males for drilling rights to women’s peak nubility hearts.

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Sidewinder asks,

How does one do obligatory beta things in the course of a relationship in an alpha way? Wives and girlfriends will not accept skittles as gifts on a regular basis. At some point it will be her turn to pick the movie, and it will usually be a gay selection. How do you share in the celebration of whatever girl milestones she’s happy about?

I recall seeing a good post about alpha ways to propose, but my question goes more to the day to day level. After you’ve been with a girl for 3 months or so, she’s looking for a connection. Constant aloof game will eventually lead to her just thinking you are a negative, critical dick. But being a mushy beta herb is fatal as well. Maybe I’m suggesting a new post “Relationship Game: The Day-to-Day Alpha.”

CH readers who are familiar with the archives know that “aloof game” is not all there is to inspiring a woman’s love and fidelity through all four weeks of the month. Beta reassurance game matters, and in fact will occupy the bulk of your time with any woman who is more than a sexual fling to you.

The reason Chateau Heartiste, and game blogs in general, focus on attraction-building seduction techniques and attitudes is because for most men — and especially for men with a lot of White and Red Nordid ancestry — aloofness and charisma around women don’t come as naturally as, say, white knighting and slow wooing via the display of beta provider signals. The world West is changing, and a different kind of seduction is needed.

Most men are betas by definition, and the “art” of buying girls stuff and complimenting girls and tending to girls when they are upset in order to win their favor is second nature to such men. The beta provider’s mental resources aren’t taxed by spending real resources on women. That’s the beta’s bread and butter. In contrast, the beta male feels tremendous psychological distress when his bread and butter isn’t working and he has to delve into the crimson world of exotic seduction tactics to inspire lust in women. This is when the beta, after having endured in crestfallen solitude from the bar room wall the spectacle of sociable alpha males hoarding the pussy, decides to turn to the lessons of applied charisma.

Regarding Sidewinder’s question, the day-to-day relationship stuff is not particularly hard or incomprehensible for the inveterate beta male. He’s been ready since birth to assume his role as the “I’m a caring man and I’ll be there at your side to dry your tears and listen to you bitch and promise you how beautiful you look when the baby is disgorging itself from your wide-open bloody vagina” man that all women claim they desire, but actually don’t desire until times get tough or their oxytocin levels are elevated. (Or the SMV differential between the woman and the man is so great that he can afford to be a beta.)

But just because that sentimental huggy-wuggy stuff comes easy to betas doesn’t mean they’d see no benefit from supercharging their relationship game with time-honored and field-tested seduction strategies. A man who has brought balance to his masculine force — a man who has sharpened his far-focused beta bonding on the whetstone of near-focused alpha allure, and knows how to apportion each by amount and timeliness to induce maximum arousal in his woman — is a man of such rarefied self-awareness that women will die for him. Or at least defend his right to pimp them out.

Building on this premise, tomorrow’s post will be about those “day-to-day alpha” things that men should do to strengthen and invigorate their loving relationships with women.

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Young reader “Barry” wants to know if his Yearbook note to a girl he knows (who also knows his friend “Greg”) is beta or alpha.

Kelli,

It has been so nice getting to know you this year. You are extremely sweet and foxy, I don’t know why Greg would want to spend any time with me at all! You really deserve better than clowns like us; you even laugh at my jokes! I hope we can keep in touch this summer, even though Greg will be gone. Call me up, and I’ll buy you lunch sometimes. [phone number] Anyway, good luck in everything you do, and stay happy.

You friend,

Love [heart symbol]

My gut reaction is that the note stinks of beta. Heart symbols are beta to any girl you aren’t already fucking. Hell, they’re beta to girls you *are* fucking. The self-deprecation is over the top, and beta if the recipient is a girl you aren’t fucking. It’s just barely tolerable if you’re self-depreacting to a girl you are already fucking.

But what I’d want to know, “Barry”, is the nature of your interest in “Kelli”. Is she just a friend, or do you have a secret crush on her? If you like her as more than a friend, then you come off as a supplicating orbiter here. But an orbiter with a sleazy, scheming alpha streak. You normally only see Kelli when Greg is with her, so it’s a good bet they’re dating. Waiting for your friend to skedaddle for the summer so you can slip her the full-blooded chub is just the kind of backroom dealing that will serve you well in future endeavors.

Chicks dig a man in command with a plan, so your subterfuge might succeed, but offering to buy lunch and giving her your number were bad moves. Better to talk to her alone and get her number than to leave it in her Yearbook for Greg to see.

Over to the CH commenters: what do you think of Barry’s tone? Is this Yearbook note weak sauce or is it the right touch of sneaky fucker cad game?

UPDATE

Some commenters caught on. The “Barry” above is none other than B-Dawg Obama.

High school is the crucible of our character. What you will be for the rest of your life is usually resolved before Senior Prom. But not always. Some men develop later, others are able to grow beyond the bounds of their formative years. You can tell a lot about a person by what he wrote in a Yearbook decades ago, and Barry’s note confirms my judgment of his character: He’s a beta at heart who became alpha through circumstance, mimicry and sheer grit. Some might derisively call this a Paper Alpha, but it’s still a better life as a paper alpha than a bona fide beta.

Oh, almost forgot:

Where da white women at!

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Some religious organizations have long argued that widespread contraception use leads to higher divorce rates because severing the connection between sex and procreation also severs the emotional connection between spouses. The duty one feels to one’s spouse is weakened when the primal bonds of sex and the consequences which normally follow in the state of nature are thwarted.

They may have a point, but I’m going to present what I believe is a more compelling reason why contraception use (predominately the Pill) and divorce track each other so closely. For a graphical representation of how closely the rate of Pill usage and the rate of divorce have tracked over time, see this (original source here):

That five year lag time between the rise in pill use and divorce is critical. It’s solid evidence that once women had the Pill down their throats, they began escaping their marriages in droves.

The Pill is one of the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse. Like opening Clamdora’s Box, the Pill is one of the six crimson spirits that now haunt the world and visit upon the civilized West far-reaching unintended (and perhaps intended) negative effects. Why would Pill usage contribute to a rise in the divorce rate? For an answer to that, you have to look to women first, and how the Pill alters their perceptions of men.

And what the Pill does to women’s brains is… how shall we say… veeeery interestink. Women on the Pill experience a shift in their mate selection criteria and begin to prefer plodding dads over plotting cads. Actually, not so much prefer boring betas as avoid sexy alphas.

Extrapolating from this premise is enlightening. What do most delicious SWPL sluts women using oral contraceptives do once they get married, or not long after getting married? That’s right, they go off the Pill so that they can start a family. And what happens when women go off the Pill? Their hindbrains shed the fog of feeling satisfied with beta male cuddles and revert to adoring sexy alpha male power thrusts, and that adoration reaches maximum cervical impact one week per month when fertile.

So perhaps the Pill and its relation to divorce is not so much about severing emotional connections as it is about reconstructing sexual connections. The wife whose lust is freed from the false prison of the Pill will suddenly, and quite inexplicably to her conscious evaluation, discover her beta husband — the man who fulfilled her in most ways when she was on the Pill — is sexually repulsive. This disgust will reach a crescendo 25% of the time of her pre-menopausal life, and she will either succumb to cheating with a more dominant man, or she will do the “right thing” and leave a marriage that is making her unhappy because her beta betrothed-turned-beta bother doesn’t know how to “communicate” with her and “meet her needs”.

And of course the beta hubschlub, tricked by the Pill’s abetting and steeped in his anti-male culture and believing everything the wife wants is good and true and everything the husband wants is wicked and false, will do the EXACT OPPOSITE of what he should do to reignite his wife’s post-Pill listing libido. He will crank up the beta, figuring that more of what sealed the deal in the first place is just the medicine to prevent the deal from breaking.

And he will be sorely mistaken, and for his good-faith efforts at reconciliation against the headwinds of unacknowledged and often heatedly denied biological reality the state will reward him with a family court ass-ramming so deep and girthful he will come to accept as a means of psychological emollient that his life is rightfully meant to be a dutifully suffered shitfest endured with stiff upper lip. And then he will be a dead man walking.

The problem of post-Pill wives losing their desire for their husbands is so bad that drug companies are trying to create a compensating pill — call it the Thrill — that will reinvigorate flagging female libidos. The intention is to cure “hypoactive sexual-desire disorder,” aka HSDD, by tapping into the primal recesses of the female brain and manipulating lustful brain lobes into activity.

The Thrill may work, but I bet not in the way the researchers intend. This is because the “problem” is not so much low female libido, but low female libido for their betaboy husbands. The added clause is crucial. A pill that fuels female clit boners will reawaken women… straight into the arms of interloper alpha males. Imagine a world of supercharged horny housewives boffing everyone in sight. Shit just got a lot more interesting.

A Thrill pill that tricks wives into perceiving their beta husbands as sexy romance novel stranger-from-afar badboy alphas may or may not work to strengthen the institution of marriage, but I can tell you one intervention that is GUARANTEED to help your marriage: Game. Specifically, dread game. A small adjustment in your mentality and behavior toward being more of an alpha male can gain you all the benefits of a thrill pill-popping wife with none of the dangerous side effects.

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