Archive for the ‘Beta’ Category

They weren’t born that way, they were made that way, by repeated failure with women in the sexual marketplace. Their romantic failure is a consequence of their inexperience, lack of game, and their poor understanding of female sexual nature, each reinforcing the other in a feedback loop of infinite incel, until marriage at 33 to a dumpy hausfrau (and they are legion).

But there’s another, even crueler and more invidious, reason why beta males become bitter about women:

Women treat beta males worse for no reason other than that they aren’t alpha males!

As we learned from yesterday’s post, a study has found that women who are rejected by an alpha male experience a surge of bitterness and bad feelings that they then dump onto any beta males unlucky enough to be next in line for the faire maidens’ hands.

Now, a question for the tough guys who like to dump on the bitterbetaboys (and CH stands accused along with the sadistic rabble): If women are autonomically treating beta men like shit, through NO FAULT of the beta males’ own, might it stand to reason that a legitimate explanation for beta male bitterness and romantic failure is their parallel sexual market reality in which they have to deal with cranky, bitchy, demeaning women who are pissed off that they didn’t get the alpha male of their dreams? Just sayin’.

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Beta males regularly commit three mortal sins that banish them to the Hell of Incel. They are listed here. Why are the Big Three Beta Male Sins against love of a mortal nature?

One, the sin involves a grave matter (failure to succeed at the Prime Darwinian Directive).

Two, the sin is often done with full knowledge of the uselessness of the act. Pubertal beta males can be forgiven for their ignorance of female nature, but older beta males have no excuse.

Three, the sin is done with the full consent of the will. Few beta males have ever been coerced or otherwise extorted to behave in ways that kill their chances with girls. He turns off girls all on his own.

Beta Male Mortal Sin #1


When beta males are tested by women, their instinct is to crouch into a defensive ball like a cornered kitten, minus the claws and fangs. Defensiveness is the beta male go-to strategy, and it fails spectacularly every single time.

For instance, if a beta male is caught eyeballing another woman, his girl buddy might chastise him with a sneering “You think she’s cute,” in response to which the beta male is likely to apologetically self-renounce something along the lines of “I wasn’t looking at her,” or “Nah, she’s not my type.”

This, naturally, ruins the nascent flirtatious vibe that the girl buddy (and formerly potential girlfriend) was trying to stoke. She will typically respond to her Pyrrhic female victory over the submissive beta male by mentally shoving him deeper into the LJBF confinement zone.

The alpha male, by way of contrast, would reply “Yeah, she’s cute,” and leave it at that. A torrent of vagina tingles are sure to flow.

Beta Male Mortal Sin #2


Straining, or what is colloquially known as try-hardery and more substantively as approval-seeking behavior, is the second romance killer bug in the beta male character code. The straining beta male is the guy whose joke to impress a girl falls flat, who then tries to compensate by emphasizing the point of the joke to a crowd growing increasingly uncomfortable with his inability to ride the wave of his social miscue to a safe landing.

The straining of the beta male is evident in any number of ways: Multiple, lengthy texts to a girl replying once to him with a one-word quip; professing his love to a girl three weeks into a dating cycle; profusely apologizing for slights imagined in his head or concocted in the head of a sadistic woman; m’ladyism run amok; quoting Shakespeare in hopes of arousing a woman he considers his intellectual peer; buying a fresh round of drinks each time he enjoys the warming breeze of a batted, manipulative eyelash; bragging in the most transparently self-serving manner about his accomplishments as an office drone; and, most humorously, sometimes literally chasing after a girl leaving da club, whom he talked with for ten seconds.

Straining is a close cousin of bitterness, which women recoil from at emotional distances that are the square of the distance of the beta male’s pointless crotch to the woman’s turtling labial folds.

Beta Male Mortal Sin #3


Hoverhand. An air kiss at the end of a tepid date. A dainty touch on a girl’s shirt sleeve before quickly withdrawing for fear of offense. A hug entered at a bad angle, bodies clashing discordantly. A sweet nothing whispered five feet from a girl’s ear. Body stiffness. Jerky head movements. Darting eyes. Deeply pocketed hands. Shuffling feet. Excessive nodding in approval that is mistaken for true bonding. Relentless smiling. Overeager laughing at a girl’s typically horrid stab at humor.

You’ve seen it in action, (maybe you’ve been prone to the same), the physical awkwardness of beta males is palpable, and palpably desiccating to all vaginas within a ten-mile field of view.

Physical awkwardness is even worse than social awkwardness, for a social misstep can be ignored, retrofitted into a social triumph, or quietly forgotten with the passing of an hour’s worth of masterful romantic interlude. But evidence of a physical discomfort with the boundaries of a woman’s body and heart is an unrecoverable betrayal of anhedonic beta maleness and inexperience bedding, as Amy Schumer, feminist blowhard, might say, “fuckable” girls.

You can get away with a lot of socially obtuse miscues if your body language speaks of the pompetous of love.


Almost all beta males share these three mortal vibe-killer sins. One of these sins could deep-six a beta’s chances with a girl; often, a beta male will commit all three sins in the course of a single evening in mixed company.

If you are a beta male who knows he must make penance for his sins against the one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church of Poon, then I have good news for you. Simply ridding yourself of the stain of the Three Beta Male Mortal Sins —

Physical Awkwardness

— will pay outsized dividends towards the balance sheet of your love life. Any further spiritual development after that soul cleansing will be gash gravy on an already promising poon vocation.

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Think girls don’t know about their complicity in creating safe friendzones for beta male orbiters to asexually occupy?

“Bring the movies”, this guy is not. Even his winky emoticon looks beta, like it’s not sure if the wink is too forward and might anger her.

As far as slap-downs of uppity beta males go, this one is hardcore. Combination shit test and pure sadism, an unbiased observer would have a cold heart if he didn’t feel any pity for the hapless beta. And, to be fair, not many men of whatever SMV ranking would be able to agilely parry that uppercunt and come out on top. But we here at CH mold men who are capable of taking on the hardest of ballbusters and turning those hissing broads into purring kittens.

With that in mind, Reader Ronin throws down the gauntlet,

[W]rite in with your best Captain SlapAHo responses to Emily that this guy could give if he weren’t a beta and/or in the LJBF in the first place.

Many commenters gave suggestions.

“you wish”


“we’re friends?”


I think a neg-reframe is the best way to redirect this ship:

“What was that? Your crotch bulge was distracting me”


Radio Silence.


the ascii johnson


You can’t come up with a good answer to this that’s also congruent with his chat until then. He should have teased her about not using makeup instead of kissing her ass and I’d stay away from asking girls how their day has been. Generally, they will volunteer information if they want to talk about it. Asking people the question he did just shows he doesn’t know what to say or it’s what I make of it.

‘what’s a friend zone? does it have a roller coaster?’


A CH similar favorite (perhaps not best suited to this occasion) is:

“You flatter yourself.” (Or “don’t flatter yourself” if you’re dealing with a real temptress requiring a sharper edge.)

All of the suggestions are serviceable, only a couple are particularly good. You can’t go wrong with a “8===>~~~”, or a Birthday Cat. The best suggestion is the neg-reframe, (or as it’s more commonly known, “agree&amplify”). You stand accused of desiring a sup of sweet slit, so why not try refreshing honesty and take her at her word? “Yeah, I’m jizzing in my pants right now thinking about your winning personality.” It’s better than the apologetic alternative, and you have given yourself a chance to turn a female friend into a lover.

Stay away from feigning ignorance about the friendzone (or about your friendship). No chick is gonna buy that act, and you’ll come across try-hard and butthurt. This set-up is difficult for newbs because it’s a real honey trap for betas who are prone to wearing their hurt feelings on their sleeves. That’s why it’s in a post; if you know how to handle the really tough stuff, you’ll glide through the easy pickups.

Yes, this guy started off on the wrong foot. He was two strikes down after he asked her how her day was going (lame) and called her beautiful (lamer). Just about anything he said after that to save face would have seemed incongruent. Given that reality, he may as well try a 180 in his conversational technique and summon his inner jerkboy begging to be released to the wilds. She will balk, naturally, but after a cooling-off period (say, a week), she’d be back, and that’s when he’d finally have a crack at steering their relationship to moister grounds.

What does an inner jerkboy do? He ASSUMES THE SALE.

“Walk me back?”

“Back to that friend zone you just tried to escape from :)”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

Ultimately it comes down to a choice: Do you want to risk losing a female buddy for a shot at fulfilling your deepest desire with her, or do you want to carry on as a eunuch in her entourage satisfied with the faintest eddies of pleasure that ripple your way when she hangs out with you, always a torturous five feet from your insolent erection?

If the former, then dial up your jerkboy to 11, and tempt a fate that, either way, will be a blessing for you.

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A beta orbiter white knight.

Some toolbags you just can’t reach. So you get what we have here, which is the way he wants it… well, he gets it… a pat on the blockhead and blue balls for his years of sexless service guarding the ovaries of a girl his sperm will never see.

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What awaits the typical beta male? Reader FrTedCrilly makes a bloodsport of vivisecting the beta male id.

Sure Game can save a beta orbiter.

Only problem is that beta orbiters often are the most vehement opponents of the sweet science of pick-up, pre- or post-humiliation.

They’ll play the waiting game. And the payoff, if they’re really “lucky”, after years of watching their princess get dumped by Skrillex clones, is a 60,000 dollar wedding and a blank-eyed speech about her soulmate and best friend. And a sexless honeymoon.

The sharpest shiv cuts the cleanest line.

On a less serious note, I do wonder, given the trend to later and fewer marriages, how long sexual market optimists think beta males will put up with being sloppy sixths to carousel-worn vagina switched into semi-arid settling mode? Do honorary Realtalkers believe there won’t be blowback from such an unsustainable societal condition? CH loves the pointillistic details best when framed by the big picture.

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It’s a good idea to avoid the temptation to ask a girl out on a public stage, especially if you don’t know for certain that the girl likes you “that way”. But leave it to beta males to endorse hope over (lack of) experience. A viral video of a teenager prompositioning his lust object to be his prom date ended with what must have felt like the ne plus ultra of humiliating rejections.

She was, naturally, “already seeing someone”.

The beta orbiter’s lament is always being the guy who arrives at his decision for romance too late. And when he does arrive there, his mountaintop announcement is maladroit and swiftly dismissed.

Why is the beta orbiter so clueless about the feelings of the girl he orbits? I’ll tell you what’s likely happening behind the scenes of these public spectacles of romantic rejection.

Stage One Beta Orbiter: He “hangs around” this girl he really likes, but only peripherally. Her proximity, however unattached and fleeting, strengthens his feelings for her. She, of course, is oblivious to his feelings.

Stage Two Beta Orbiter: As his love grows beyond the bounds of possible reciprocation, he projects his passion onto the girl he orbits, actively fantasizing and even beginning to imagine real indications that she is as interested in him as he is in her. She remains oblivious to his feelings.

Stage Three Beta Orbiter: Time definitely does not heal blue balls. The beta orbiter now envisions a day not too far in the future when his p will enter her v. He starts to act weirdly (more weird than usual) around her planetary trap zone, and it is at this point that she suspects his romantic interest, leaving her grappling with feelings of discomfort, but also of manipulative promise. It will be hard for her now to resist her subconscious impulse to use her beta orbiter toolbag for emotional and practical provisioning. Even the sweetest girls can give in to the lure of exploiting loyal, lovestruck beta males for asexual profit.

Stage Four Beta Orbiter: He is so infatuated and hypnotized by her platonic company, he can’t see that jerkboy pinching her on the ass as he walks by and her turning red-faced with aroused embarrassment. All the real life signals are red, and all his fantasy life signals are green. He ignores the obvious lack of interest from her and pays attention only to what he has concocted in his fevered mental masturbatorium. A collision is coming.

Stage Five Beta Orbiter: He can’t contain his feelings any more. The time is ripe! Public proposition, because it can’t fail and he wants the world to know his good fortune, or because he nurses a seed of doubt and thinks a crowd of sympathetic allies will exert just the right amount of pressure on the girl of his dreams. Horrible rejection ensues, hug from mom, lesson learned? Not always. Not often.

A beta orbiter can be rescued by a wise male buddy or mentor, and by learning game, sometime around or before Stage Three. By Stage Four, he’s a lost cause, and he’ll have to endure Stage Five humiliation to snap out of his delirium. That’s what happened to the teenager in the above story. That’s what had to happen.

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It seems hard to believe, immersed as we are currently in a miasma of equalist lies, that there were ever times in America’s rapidly receding past when people shared a generally realistic appraisal of the sexes. But there were. And America’s fruited plains were once populated with Realtalkers. A reader forwards a link to Realtalk, 1920s-style. The subject is “Petting Parties”, which were all the rage during that time.

Soon the lovey-dovey wingdings were popping up all across the country. Southerners sometimes called them necking parties. They were called mushing parties in the West; fussing parties in the Midwest and spooning everywhere, the United Press noted later in 1921. Eventually some flappers began referring to party-petting as snugglepupping.

It’s almost weird to read about a time when America was so culturally unified, and this despite massive waves of Eastern European immigration happening then.

A game-aware nugget of Realtalk is tucked into the story:

“Girls like to be called snuggle-puppies,” one school administrator told the reporter. “They grant the boys liberties. Encourage them to take them and if the young chaps do not, they are called ‘sissies’, ‘poor boobs’ or ‘flat tire.’ ”

Heartiste Poon Commandment XIII: Better to err on the side of too much boldness rather than too little.

The beta male orbiter was known to women long before our time. He was that “sissy” — an apt description — who couldn’t bustamove when it most counted. That 1920s beta male stumbled and fumbled and waited patiently for unmistakeable signals from the girl until she grew bored with him and alighted for a better man who knew how to travel the landscape of her hindbrain.

Related: Fat women were never attractive to men. The “perfect woman”, according to an 1890s leaflet, was slender and feminine, not a hint of fupa or manjaw on her. America the Beautiful, where have ye gone?

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