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Archive for the ‘Alpha’ Category

Asshole Game Week: Day One is here. Day Two here. Day Three here. Day Four here.

The Chateau has plenty of readers already in relationships and (lucifer help you) marriage. Many of them would like to know how to apply asshole game to the women they love and are afraid to drive into boredom because of legal ramifications.

The rules of the Game don’t change when you decide to keep a woman around for longer than a few nights. All that changes is the frequency and intensity of your tactical assault. Instead of “shock and awe”, it’s more like “surprise and delight”.

On that dulcet note, reader Sentient demonstrates by example,

A few notes on asshole game from the confines of a marriage/LTR. Now while these may not have the the same storytelling value of asking a single girl to hold your drink while fucking another girl in front of her, they do render the desired nuclear effect on a fully pampered princess bride, who has grown accustomed to her beta lackey hubby:

1. She asks you to fill her water glass with a whiney “i’m thirsty… and a wiggle of a raised glass” and you say “No thanks”.

2. She asks you to run downstairs and get her xxxx from yyyy and you say “I think you can manage that, it’s good for your glutes too”.

3. She informs you that her BFF has arranged a play date for the kids and you and her an hour away from home at some place you have zero desire to go to, and she expects you to be the driver, as always and you say “Have a good time, not interested”.

4. You make a move for sex at 10 PM on a Wednesday night, she gives you the cold shoulder and something like “we just had sex [fill in the blank] days ago”, and you say “Ok, have a good night”, kiss her on the head and leave the house “not sleepy, going out for a bit” your departing words… a furious litany of hamsterese lighting up your phone for the next hour, which you ignore.

5. and the coup de grace, when she wants to have a BIG TALK ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP and she says “I don’t like how you have been acting the last [fill in the blank]…” and you look her square in the eye and shrug “you don’t have to”.

BOOOOM goes the dynamite. Relationship reset activated. #winning #welcomebacktestes #tingles

“Relationship Reset” is a good way of putting it. That’s precisely what you want to do. Reset your girlfriend’s or wife’s impression of you. And there’s no hotter button to push than the one that activates a tingle torrent. A million things about you can anger a woman, but if her anger is accompanied by a stirring in her snatch she’ll rationalize your flaws away as if they were puffs of girlish illusion.

Commenter newlyaloof adds a few more Relationship Reset strategies,

#6 Dress/eat differently (adding variety to your life). When wife notices the switch and comments about it, say, “Yeah, I’ve moved on.”

#7 Mention the young, cute girl at the office whenever possible (commute with her if possible too). Instant wife motivator.

#8 Can’t remember who stated this, but if your wife questions anything that you mention, say “Because the words left my mouth, that’s why.”

#6 is thermonuclear, and the blast radius enlarges the longer you can maintain an air of opacity concerning the meaning of your explanation.

I hope everyone enjoyed Asshole Game Week. If popular demand warrants, I may feature another week devoted to the craft of cleaving clefts by psychological axe.

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Asshole Game Week: Day One is here. Day Two here. Day Three here.

Pijama Wearing Ninja provides a clinic on how to pick up sexy girls at the gym with nothing but a devil-may-care recklessness and a honed talent for segueing every subject into one with sexual overtones.

I went to the gym today and the only girl in there with both a cute face and body was doing squats and I complimented her on not being a cardio girl and told her that soon she will squat as much as me. We talked about guys who don’t train legs for a minute and how they’re the equivalent of cardio girls in the gym. She asked me what happened to me (as in to my knee) and I told her penis reduction surgery. She laughed and asked me why is my scar on my knee then and I told her that the surgeon was very clumsy. She giggled so I told her that I don’t like girls who laugh at injured people. I told her I have to go and told her my name and she told me hers and extended her hand and I told her that she probably has calloused hands from all the squatting so kissed her cheek and took her number.

That was… fuckin poetry. There’s a lot going on. Let’s unpack it.

PWN’s opener is at once a fronthanded and a backhanded compliment. congrats for eschewing cardio in favor of squats… oh and soon you will have legs like strong masculine man.

He moves into humorously DLVing his competition. (this is pua jargon for “tearing other guys down”).

Then there’s his refusal to give a straight answer, opting instead for the flirty, sexualized tease of “penis reduction surgery”. (Beta males are notoriously bad at answering women’s questions with anything but logical, tingle-killing coherence.)

He punches up his momentum with a sterling disqualification: “I don’t like girls who laugh at injured people.” Push-pull is the metronome of seduction.

He exits the conversation first, but not before delivering a final, asshole-caliber taunt: “I told her she probably has calloused hands from all the squatting.”

And then, of course, the physical escalation at the end is a move no non-asshole would dare attempt.

PWN follows up:

I think I’ll invite her for some minigolf this weekend or next week and the loser would have to buy the winner an alcoholic drink of their choosing*. Mine will be a glass of wine. I like good wines so that will also give me something to DHV with and girls love wine. The minigolf place is really close to a winebar and both are 20 minutes away of walking from my place, which has a pretty good skyline. Too bad it’s winter and I can’t just have a walk with her due to the cold and the skyline will be blocked by the fog. FUCK WINTER!

Pickup during winter is probably the lamest, especially if the girls will bond to you and expect gifts on Valentines, another similar day we have here, 1st of March and 8th of March. Back in the days of abundance, I always fought with my girls on purpose and rekindled or found new ones after this month of financial carnage. I seriously prefer buying my mother lots of flowers than wasting my money on silly tarts. lol

*used to teach girls if I was beating them really bad, which was good excuse to kino. Rusty now so not sure I’ll get to do it.

What kind of man but an asshole would deliberately fight with girlfriends as a con to get out of buying V-Day gifts and dinners?

By Asshole Game standards, PWN’s gym pickup marginally qualifies, but inclusion into the world of sexxxy assssssholes is relative to the competition. The marching mass of mediocrities known affectionately as beta males wouldn’t talk this way to a girl even in their Casanova-conjuring dreams. And that is why they fail.

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Asshole Game Week: Day One is here. Day Two here.

What happens when you totally bail on a woman? She fumes and refuses to ever talk to you again? She waves off the thought of you with a dismissive mental gesture? Or… something else?

Commenter Hosswire writes,

About a year ago, after voraciously clicking through all of the glorious Chateau’s game posts I decided to up my asshole game with a hot 20-something (I’m 41) half-black acrobat (blackrobat) chick I had just won over with my new arrogant & sexually entitled persona.

This reads like the voice-over intro to a Swingers-esque indie flic.

At that time, I had seen enough results to know that CH precepts were effective, though felt like there were levels of assholeness that created counterproductive results. So I was, like, 95% convinced.

There are levels of assholery that can be counterproductive, and this is in large part contextual. More desperate older, uglier or chubbier women will wilt under the kind of sustained asshole attack that would send a younger, hotter, tighter woman into an upward spiral of horny delirium.

Anyway. This chick was part of an aerial acrobatic (Cirque de Soleil shit) school & invited me to her Winter show. Bought me tickets, introduced me to her friends, made a big production out of it.

Halfway through the show, for no other reason than to be a dick, I got up & walked out.

Twenty minutes later, I got a text:

Her: Did you really leave?

I waited a good 10-15 minutes before replying.

Me: Meeting some friends for drinks

Note the lack of apology or excuse. If you’re gonna play the asshole game, you’ve got to appear comfortable with your rule-breaking mystique. Don’t flinch!

Three minutes later, I realized that it was literally impossible to be too big an asshole for women when I got this text:

Her: When are you going to be home? I am going to rock your world tonight.

That night, with the help of some coconut oil from my kitchen I experienced every orifice of that dusky beauty. Color me 100% convinced now. Asshole game works.

Topically administered medium-chain triglyceride sex is the healthy alternative.

I wouldn’t infer too much about the effectiveness of asshole game from the biracial nature of the lead temptress. I’ll have a post related to the race-asshole game nexus soon but, in short, although there is reason to think a Rushtonian “Rule of Three” governs the receptiveness of women from different races to asshole game, I’ve found that there are attenuating variables that work against a broad racial disposition.

For instance, the white men in upscale WM-BW couples are often very beta-ish, or at least not at all like the wiggers you’d expect. I suspect that the higher class black women willing to date outside their race are the sort of women craving a dependable, faithful provider, and are therefore less likely than their sun-baked sistren to require the courtship equivalent of a crotch grab to grab their attention.

A more pertinent factor is the degree of femininity of the biracial beauty. It’s a good bet that a half-black acrobat is out on the far right side of the black woman bell curve for slenderness and femininity, and, if my experience and SCIENCE tell us something, it’s that young, highly feminine women of any race tend to be the most receptive to asshole game. So, if this “blackrobat” loves her assholes, it’s probably less a consequence of her racial pedigree than it is of her femininity.

PS I don’t know Hosswire’s race (his tone suggests non-black), but whatever it is, it wouldn’t much alter my analysis.

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Asshole Game Week: Day One is here.

Reader ‘Hackett To Bits’ summons the animating spirit of the Olympian god Prickicissus.

It feels good to find that different reality.

Me: 45 yo, (amicably) divorced
She: 23 yo waif/neurotic in the booty call zone

Some grousers are gonna say, “well, she isn’t interested in a relationship”, conveniently missing the point that hot booty call sex with a 23yo kitten beats the stuffing out of stuffing an aging beauty with relationship glue. Also missing the point that to get to a relationship, it helps to first be fucking the girl.

Recent text chat snippet:

Me: No one can resist jerk man
She: You’re not that cute.
Me: Doesn’t matter, jerk man doesn’t need to be
She: You’re overly confident and full of yourself
Me: Aww shucks
She: Point proven
Me: (emoticon wearing shades)

NO ONE has ever called me ‘overly confident’ before…oh I’m feeling it now.

You should be. Chicks dig overconfident men who act pleased as punch with themselves.

There are a lot of game concepts in play here. There’s the avoidance of defensiveness. “Doesn’t matter, jerk man doesn’t need to be” Agree&Amplify. “Aww shucks” And emoji game.

In a few short texts, Hackett conveyed a master class in jerkboy charisma game. This is the kind of uncaring asshole teasing that hot young women hungrily lap up. It’s not indicative of the extremes in assholery that a man can achieve, but it is within the sphere of behavior that characterizes smug prickitude, which is so tantalizing and arousing to women.

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Welcome to Asshole Game Week, the evil twin of Relationship Game Week, in which Tales of Tingles Torqued are told as a lesson for the benighted. A warning to those who are faint of heart or tiny of testicle: This would be a good week to avoid visits to the Chateau. Buzzfeeder bromides and self-fellating Millennial feels are only one short click away for you!

Reader Reservoir Tip fires a brood-blocked, hamster-shocked, money shot to start off the celebrations for this week-long pagan holiday:

Funny story for you all:

Last night, I ended up in a little bit of a dilemma. I had two girls scheduled to come over at the same time, mainly because I was expecting one of them to flake. To my surprise, she didn’t.

I thought about bringing them both in and trying for the threesome, but decided against it. As girl one walks into my place, girl two texts me saying she’s arrived. I text girl two back and tell her that “the shit hit the fan” and that I can’t join her tonight. She’s pissed, and rightly so, really. What I pulled was pretty low, and definitely rude.

Nothing puts a lady in the mood like innuendo rude of a woman number two.

Regardless, I’m sitting around with girl one, doing a simple movie at my place, but she ends up being kind of a bitch, and we split after about an hour and a make out.

I text girl two back, “hey come over now.”

She comes right over and i boink her.

If your value is high enough, and the girl is horny enough, she’ll do anything, apparently.

Asshole dicktum #1: Always keep two in the kitty.

Asshole dicktum #2: Don’t apologize for being an asshole.

Asshole dicktum #3: Chicks dig a man with options, especially options that are intriguingly implied.

Asshole dicktum #4: Few women can resist a man with a well-honed sexual entitlement complex.

Asshole dicktum #5: Act like a high value man, and women will believe you’re a high value man.

Tomorrow: Increase the voltage.

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Reader Experienced Father forwards this passage from Teddy Roosevelt, who in this excerpt reveals amazing powers of observation and prescience (and a serum T level that in one brief moment exceeds Obama’s lifetime gonadal output).

******

This is from Theodore Roosevelt’s Book “A Book-Lover’s Holidays in the Open”

[T]here is one vital point—the vital point—in which the men and women of these ranch-houses, like those of the South America that I visited generally, are striking examples to us of the English-speaking countries both of North America and Australia. The families are large. The women, charming and attractive, are good and fertile mothers in all classes of society. There are no symptoms of that artificially self-produced dwindling of population which is by far the most threatening symptom in the social life of the United States, Canada, and the Australian commonwealths. The nineteenth century saw a prodigious growth of the English-speaking, relative to the Spanish-speaking, population of the new worlds west of the Atlantic and in the Southern Pacific. The end of the twentieth century will see this completely reversed unless the present ominous tendencies as regards the birth-rate are reversed.

    A race is worthless and contemptible if its men cease to be willing and able to work hard and, at need, to fight hard, and if its women cease to breed freely. I am not speaking of pauper families with excessive numbers of ill-nourished and badly brought up children; I am well aware that, like most wise and good principles, this which I advocate can be carried to a mischievous excess; but it nevertheless remains true that voluntary sterility among married men and women of good life is, even more than military or physical cowardice in the ordinary man, the capital sin of civilization, whether in France or Scandinavia, New England or New Zealand. If the best classes do not reproduce themselves the nation will of course go down; for the real question is encouraging the fit, and discouraging the unfit, to survive. When the ordinary decent man does not understand that to marry the woman he loves, as early as he can, is the most desirable of all goals, the most successful of all forms of life entitled to be called really successful; when the ordinary woman does not understand that all other forms of life are but makeshift and starveling substitutes for the life of the happy wife, the mother of a fair-sized family of healthy children; then the state is rotten at heart.

[ed: here comes the money shot.]
     
   The loss of a healthy, vigorous, natural sexual instinct is fatal; and just as much so if the loss is by disuse and atrophy as if it is by abuse and perversion. Whether the man, in the exercise of one form of selfishness, leads a life of easy self-indulgence and celibate profligacy; or whether in the exercise of a colder but no less repulsive selfishness, he sacrifices what is highest to some form of mere material achievement in accord with the base proverb that “he travels farthest who travels alone”; or whether the sacrifice is made in the name of the warped and diseased conscience of asceticism; the result is equally evil.
     
    So, likewise, with the woman. In many modern novels there is portrayed a type of cold, selfish, sexless woman who plumes herself on being “respectable,” but who is really a rather less desirable member of society than a prostitute. Unfortunately the portrayal is true to life. The woman who shrinks from motherhood is as low a creature as a man of the professional pacificist, or poltroon, type, who shirks his duty as a soldier.
     
    The only full life for man or woman is led by those men and women who together, with hearts both gentle and valiant, face lives of love and duty, who see their children rise up to call them blessed and who leave behind them their seed to inherit the earth. Dealing with averages, it is the bare truth to say that no celibate life approaches such a life in point of usefulness, no matter what the motive for the celibacy—religious, philanthropic, political, or professional.
     
    The mother comes ahead of the nun—and also of the settlement or hospital worker; and if either man or woman must treat a profession as a substitute for, instead of as an addition to or basis for, marriage, then by all means the profession or other “career” should be abandoned. It is of course not possible to lay down universal rules. There must be exceptions. But the rule must be as above given. In a community which is at peace there may be a few women or a few men who for good reasons do not marry, and who do excellent work nevertheless; just as in a community which is at war, there may be a few men who for good reasons do not go out as soldiers. But if the average woman does not marry and become the mother of enough healthy children to permit the increase of the race; and if the average man does not, above all other things, wish to marry in time of peace, and to do his full duty in war if the need arises, then the race is decadent, and should be swept aside to make room for one that is better. Only that nation has a future whose sons and daughters recognize and obey the primary laws of their racial being.

******

Careerist gogrrls, like their dopplegangers, cowardly manlets, are an affront to human dignity.

They don’t make’ em like Teddy anymore. Which is horrible timing, because if ever the West needed more Teddies, it is now. And I say this as someone who possesses the strongest possible fornicative urge hitched to the weakest possible procreative urge. Yareally gotta look at the big picture.

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Exhibit Audi:

I’m not surprised by this welcome turn to the masculine side. It is inevitable that as Western society becomes in practice more womanly, the rebellious, unquenchable spirit of boys and men would find renewed purpose pushing back against the zeitshrike of the age. I predict far fewer “goofball dad” commercials in the near future, and far more “dark triad rule breaker” commercials that make high T feminists swoon with a lethally dissonant combination of butthurt rage and muffpert craze.

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