Petraeus And The Infidelity Risk Curve

A reader writes amazedly:

I like sex as much as the next guy, but I’m amazed at what men will throw away to get it: a Presidency (B. Clinton, DSK), a 38 year career, CEO positions, money, respect, freedom…it just doesn’t make sense. No matter who she is, she’s not worth it. IMHO, obviously.

He speaks of Generals Petraeus and Allen and their Lebanese immigrant, faintly masculine mistresses (last I checked of this labyrinthine lovers’ octagon.) Yes, the scent of an attractive, height-weight proportionate woman is strong, stronger still when her surroundings are populated by bloated pustules formerly known as women. Scent of a Womb, you could call it. Men sniff it in the air, like a wolf picking up the odor of prey animals, and they are sprung to action. But it is useful to remember that as strong as that fertile pussy odor is to men, equally strong is the alpha male odor to women. Perhaps even stronger in women, since alpha males are so much rarer, and thus more exciting when discovered, than are young fertile women to men, who need only stroll around a SPWL neighborhood for a few minutes to ogle ten or fifty babes who can adequately stiffen the staff.

A woman in a room with a four star general is as overtaken by powerful urges to FUCK AND FUCK NOW as a man is when in the company of a pretty, young woman with suppleness in all the right places. You just don’t fiddle with the god of biomechanics and expect a slurry of sexual harassment lawsuit threats or career-ending consequences will keep His Dark Eminence at bay and the work environment safely borg-like and aridly void of sexual tension.

Feminists can screech and shriek, manboobs can pule, white knights can huff and puff, but, like all of us, their knees too will bend to the cosmic prime directive.

The scandal itself — so mundane in its predictability* — is only noteworthy for three reasons:

1. The conspiracy angle. It’s hard to avoid suspicions that Petraeus was not going to be fully cooperative on Benghazi and was therefore summarily deep-sixed by timely revelations courtesy of Team HopeandChange.

2. The male archetype on display of the “beta male in alpha clothing”. Too many people readily confuse occupational status for alpha maleness, when it’s a man’s attitude, first and foremost, which imbues him with the alpha allure. Although very high social status and alpha maleness correlate, it is by no means exact. Petraeus’s (or was it Allen’s?) self-incriminating email avalanche is some proof that he harbors the soul of a beta. A real alpha male does not do the email equivalent of gushing like a lovestruck schoolgirl, unless he really was lovestruck. (More on that later**.) He especially does not do this when he is high ranking military brass with a lot to lose should his illicit effusions be discovered.

As for the archetype of Beta Males In Alpha Clothing, these types of men get action from women entranced by their status, but then quickly lose these women’s interest when their betaness reveals itself in manifesting clinginess. The leader of men can be just as blind to the nature of women as the celibate omega male or the cloying beta male. Leader of Men beta males are often victimized by their mistresses because the women don’t have the strong feelings of love and loyalty to them that they would have to attitudinal alpha males.

3. The game lessons contained therein. Petraeus and Allen both miserably failed the Jumbotron test. You do not write tens of thousands of sappy emails to your mistress that you wouldn’t be comfortable airing on a Jumbotron for the world to see. That goes doubly for CIA directors. I like to follow the KISS principle in matters of the heart: Keep It Scarce, Stupid. And for God’s sake — the Draft folder? Have you dumbasses never heard of anonymizing remailers?

There are many tawdry twists and turns in this saga soon to come, I’m sure, but you really only need to see two pictures to understand pretty much 99% of what’s going on.

The wife…

And the mistress…

Wow, notice that masculine digit ratio she has? That, plus the squared off, clenched jaw and forehead zit are leading indicators that this broad is well on her way to breaking a land speed record for cock gobbling the alpha males in her midst.

How in tarnation is Petraeus’s potato sack poster wife for Puritan living supposed to compete with this fuel-injected sex machine? There isn’t a man alive who would pass up a chance at tapping that harlot if his only alternative was Miss Massachusetts 1687. You may as well dangle a chunk of raw meat in front of a starving lion’s maw and expect it to sit still for twenty years.

Look, I’m not claiming Broadwell is any raving beauty. She’s probably around a 7, adjusted for age. And she has that incipient manjaw going on, a classic tell of the late stage America, careerist shrike tankgrrl female with clit dick. But in relation to the wife, she’s a hard 10. Hard enough to cut diamond. If your wife — and I say this with the utmost clinical detachment — is utterly unbangable, then a 7 prancing around your office day in and day out, year after year, in high heels, pencil skirt and a sexpot squint will test the resolve of the most religiously indoctrinated or divorce theft-averse man. Every day you don’t expel yourself in the tramp’s come hither wicker is one more day you drag yourself home to suffer in stark contrast the sad, depressing sight of the Michelin Ma’am dutifully holding down the home post. Your guilty thoughts will eat you alive either way, so you may as well enjoy the benefits of the burden of that guilt.

The God of Biomechanics does not reward virtue. His works are Total Gonad.

I find the notion coming from some quarters (feminists and white knights and manboobs, oh my!) that Petraeus ought to have been more virtuous absolutely laughable. The man’s station in life, if nothing else, made him a rock star in his milieu. Women would have made their sexual intentions known to him rather blatantly. Virtue is easy when there is little to realistically tempt one to vice, as is typically the case for nearly all omegas of either sex, and betas of the male sex. This was not the case here. Petraeus had the equivalent of a thousand attractive men’s temptations thrown in his face every day. A choir of heavenly saints would have trouble keeping the Boner of Light in their pants under such circumstances.

Which brings me to my next jeremiad: Tossing men and women together in the workplace is a recipe for dissolving marriages, sexually dispossessing beta males, and corraling women under the banner of a few industry captain alpha males. Men and women in a putatively monogamous society are simply not meant to be in each other’s company, away from family, all the day long and night. Is it any wonder, really, that female infidelity rates are now approaching that of men’s rates? The gender neutral workplace experiment has brought alpha males and fertile females together like no other arrangement yet devised by man. And it happened under everyone’s noses, because no one bothered to note that human nature is real, and it isn’t going anywhere soon.

There is a reason why newly minted wives rush their husbands out to the suburbs, and it’s not just to get their kids into good white schools: it’s to sequester their men from the sea of luscious young pussy that swims the streets of the cities. Similarly, most husbands are much happier when their wives either stay at home or work in jobs where they are mostly surrounded by other women or beta males, like teaching or accounting. The goal for each is the same: to reduce excessive alpha male/hot female temptations.

Of course, don’t bother telling feminists this undeniable aspect of society: they’d rather stuff purple saguaros in their ears than contemplate the merciless, gender aneutral reality of humanity. Their willful ignorance is rivaled only by their catastrophic stupidity.

*How predictable was this affair? Very. The greater the sexual market value disparity between a husband’s wife and his female coworkers, the likelier the odds of his having an extramarital affair with a woman closer in SMV to himself. This postulate is best expressed graphically:

A high status man whose wife is a full 10 points lower on the looks scale than the women he works with is guaranteed to cheat, and cheat a lot. You will notice that some alpha males advanced in the ways of self-abnegation can resist the temptation to cheat, so long as the other woman is no more than a couple points better looking than the wife. But once the other woman crosses that threshold from “kind of prettier” to “yup, she makes my wife look like a duffel bag of laundry”, the infidelity is set in stone. And only those who loathe male desire will see fit to condemn such a man for his actions.

For the recent members of the studio audience: Feminists and their lapdog beta supplicants tend to be the types to nurse an irrational loathing of natural, normal male desire.

There are those tricky little trolls who will innocently(!) ask “Don’t you feel sorry for the wife? What did she do wrong?”

I do feel a twitch of pity for her, but it stops there. She did nothing “wrong”, in the Biblical or PC sense, but the fact that she obviously felt it reasonable to so fully let herself go is evidence that she cared not a whit for her husband’s animal desires, and was probably up to her ears in feminist ideology about the uselessness and evil of appealing to the visceral demands of men for physically attractive, slender lovers. Had she stayed thin (something which is entirely possible, barring very rare physiological ailments), she would have enjoyed more loving sexual attention from her husband. But she is undoubtedly a creature of the zany zeitgeist, and as such was likely imbued with latent hatred for the idea of pleasing one’s husband in the way that husbands prefer to be pleased.

There is also the matter of expectations that are inevitably placed on women who have managed to capture in unholy matrimony a rising star alpha male. The pressure to stay sexy and feminine will be much more strongly felt by a wife hitched to a valuable alpha male. After all, he has options most men don’t. The luxury of resting on her wifely laurels to scarf down a pint of Edy’s is not in the cards for such women. To put it mildly: Ladies, if you want the alpha male, be prepared to put in the hard work to keep him amused. If you don’t want that responsibility, then go marry a beta male who won’t have the SMV leverage to complain or seek alternate humanistic outlets for his needs.

Naturally, some of you women will balk. But try this thought experiment on for size:

The fat wife of an alpha male is the SAME THING as the unmotivated, dull, needy husband of an alpha female.

If you would be hard pressed to place full blame on the alpha female for her succumbing to infidelity, then so should you think twice before placing full blame on the alpha male for his succumbing to infidelity.

If you cannot grasp this elementary logic, then you are either a raving feminist loon, or a very feminine woman who confuses feelings for reason.

**Was Petraeus in love? I bet he was. Broadwell was considerably younger than him, and considerably sexier than his wife, and those two things are prerequisites for illicit love to bloom in the heart of a man. Feminists often sputter angrily when they see a much older, powerful man with a younger woman, a reaction which arises because they are aware that what they are seeing is an asymmetrical power relationship, but even worse, that the subordinate woman in the relationship ENJOYS IT! The man likes having a pretty girl look up to him, and the woman likes having a powerful man to look up to.

I think it is within the realm of possibility, then, that Petraeus really loved Broadwell, and saw her as much more than a fun fling. He returned her love, though in the end it appears she didn’t get what she wanted from him, and her knives came out.

Will anyone in the media beside this blog talk about the genuine love Petraeus, or Allen, had for their respective mistresses? No. The belief that a man cannot love more than one woman at once is ingrained deeply in the psyche of the masses. Most cling tightly to hopes that non-monogamous relationships cannot be loving. And who wants to believe that an older man can truly fall in love with a younger woman? Certainly not the legions of older wives!

Then there is the uncomfortable fact of female nature: who among the media elite really wants to confront the reality of the base desires of women, of their yearning for powerful men, and of their natural inclination to happily assume the subservient role to such men? Who will mention how cavalierly women will dismiss the far-reaching consequences of their actions if such actions bring them closer to joyful fulfillment in the arms of their married lovers?

Love can thrive in relationships where lust is the driving force. When I read that Petraeus was having an affair with Broadwell, I was happy for him. Imagine the torment such a man with his temptations must suffer, just to keep up appearances in service to his political career and his dreary family life. But he went ahead with his affair anyway, and he did it for love. He put love ahead of duty and the wrath of the PC Kommisars. He chose to live not as the mass of men live — empty of any joy. Petraeus may be a fool and betrayer, but he is also a bold, exuberant romantic. A man willing to risk it all for a pretty woman’s love, the best thing that there is in this godforsaken world.

In the final analysis, the magnetic appeal of this story is clear:

Petraeus is us.

PS I predict that the cuckolded beta male hubbies, both of whom are “conventionally alpha” doctors, of Broadwell and Kelley will be the least examined aspect of this story by the media. Remeber, folks, men are expendable! And that goes triply for beta males. They are the forgotten lepers in the wilderness of unspoken tabulations of human worth. We will hear a never ending tale of woe about Mrs. Petraeus, but hardly a peep about the sad sacks who suffered their wives’ unfaithfulness. Some sexes are just more equal than others.

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Reformed Beta Of The Month

Le Chateau has highlighted great and gruesome stories of alphas and betas, but what about those beta males who transcend, through sheer force of will, the prison of their supplicating souls? More than a learning tool or a life lesson, these enlightened post-betas are inspirations. The 80% or so of men who qualify as beta males need a role model like them; someone who can show them the way. There is a better life if they would just take it, and the reformed beta is proof that you don’t have to be born an alpha to have the good things in life and experience the flush of power that the alpha male takes for granted.

My prudish husband has left me because I lied about my sex life

When I met my husband 40 years ago I knew he was ‘the one.’ He had firm opinions on sex before marriage (outdated even then) and was a virgin.

As I got to know him, it became clear that he’d never consider marrying somebody with ‘history.’ He thought sex special and wouldn’t want to imagine his wife having it with others.

But, by 22, I’d been having sex for four years. Madly in love and wanting him to marry me, I lied.

He was bound to realise I wasn’t a virgin, so I made up a story that I’d been in a long engagement, giving up my virginity under pressure only a month before my wedding day, then reluctantly had sex twice with my fiancé, who then dumped me, leaving me devastated and ashamed.

He was very understanding and proposed soon after. We married and moved to his home town — a relief, as I’d worried we might bump into a friend who might speak out of turn.

We had two children and a very happy and successful marriage. But a few weeks ago, an old friend contacted me over the internet, and I invited her round.

My husband left us to talk and went off to the garden. Inevitably we talked of the past.

After she left, I found my husband looking devastated. He said he’d gone into the conservatory to read and heard everything.

He said he felt utterly betrayed, as he had a right to expect honesty, but our entire marriage had been based on a fundamental lie.

I said we’d had a wonderful 40 years, so what could it matter what I did before I met him?

He moved in to the spare room and avoided me. A week later he moved to a bedsit and told me he wanted a divorce.

Nothing would change his mind. Our adult children have tried, but he is absolutely fixed.

Men who want to find a woman for a long-term relationship or marriage (a codified LTR) are put off by histories of a slutty past. The woman who has given herself freely to men before him proves that old GBFM aphorism that it makes no sense for a man to pay for the pussy that was handed over no strings attached to other men when it was younger, hotter, tighter. You don’t seriously invest in a rode hard and tossed away wet pussy; instead, you ride it harder and wear it out a little more, then look for fresher pussy that doesn’t need its 60,000 cockas maintenance as soon as you sign the dotted line.

My method may be glib, intended to inflict maximum emotional pain for make benefit of my personal amusement, but the foundation upon which the glibness rests is true. Men have evolved intricate mental algorithms that subconsciously push them to devalue women with extensive sexual histories as long-term partners. The reason for this is obivous: the slut is a bigger infidelity risk, and thus a bigger cuckolding risk, than the chaste woman. Science has proven this, in yet another example of the lab coat crowd catching up with conventional wisdom and common sense observation.

Therefore, when a long-loyal husband finds out his wife rode the cock carousel, even if discovered to have occurred in a prior life of hers, his respect for her drops a notch. His love for her shrinks three sizes. His honed beta ability and predilection to put her on a pedestal and adore her suffers a grievous diminishment. She has, in a word, become a less worthy woman in his eyes. And, likewise, in the eyes of all men, because men, like women, share universal preferences for certain types of mates.

So good for this reformed beta for walking away from his once-whore wife. In the big picture, the sin she committed may be small, but sometimes it takes horrible and swift retribution by a man to violently shake a woman, and women in her sphere of influence, from comfortable delusions and easy expectations regarding the self-imposition of controls on their behavior. All it takes is a relatively few betas to toss a stone cold rock in the world of women and the ripples will eddy and swirl through the masses. The beta male has suddenly become uncontrollable, unpredictable, untamable! This is the stuff of revolution, and it will set women on the path to happiness more powerfully than a million grrlpower tomes, feminist blogs or fat acceptance hugboxes.

The haters are apoplectic. Their splutter is the stuff of delicious slo-mo videos. “But but but,” they will protest, “I can be slutty and still land a man! Any man who leaves me because I’m a slut doesn’t deserve me!”

Deservin’s got nothin’ to do with it, honey. It’s biomechanical turtles all the way down.

But I’ll throw the haters a bone, here. Yes, it’s true that a slut, assuming she is sufficiently physically attractive, can cajole a man into a relationship. Men are, before all else, born slaves to a pretty female face, and it takes effort to break those chains forged of unalloyed pulchritude. Many men do indeed slavishly pursue sluts simply because those sluts are hot with perfect apple bottoms.

But “sufficiently attractive” is the key word. The higher value the man, the more beautiful the slut has to be to ensnare him in a relationship. High value men, aka alphas, have options in the mating market that beta males don’t; these men, when they aren’t just plowing through sluts for fun and penile profit, will generally balk at dating sluts in favor of settling down with more modest, and less sexually experienced, women.

There is, then, a tacit assumption that the sorts of men the feminist sluts are pulling aren’t exactly the top of the alpha male heap. They are likely beta males, maybe some of them greater omegas with cute undulating manboobs and receding chins, who are so desperate for sex and female love that they can readily suppress their distaste for sluts if it means having a girl on their arms.

Maxim #56: The more limited a person’s options in the sexual market, the laxer his or her mate standards.

(For those interested in the science behind this, I believe there is a study floating around internetland which purports to show that very beautiful women with extensive sexual histories don’t suffer too much of a hit to their marriage marketability, because the betas who marry them are quick to forgive their slutty ways. In short, very hot women are so intoxicating that many men will assume the higher risk of getting cuckolded by them for the chance to enjoy a few years of glorious, incomparably pleasurable sex.)

In stark contrast, have you ever seen what an alpha male does to plain-looking sluts? It isn’t pretty. To call it pump and dump would be a euphemism. Think more along the lines of “facelessly screw and scatter to the wind”.

These realities of the sexual market aren’t often instantly apprehensible. You can go a few years only subconsciously picking up cues that your behavior is hurting your mate value. But in the aggregate of many lifetimes, and over each lifetime, the god of biomechanics imposes his relentless, merciless, unavoidable will. And you will bend the knee to him, sooner or later. You have no choice.

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When The Handicap Principle Is Just A Handicap

The Handicap Principle, or what is known in layman terms as conspicuous consumption, is an important biological hypothesis that explains why the males of some (most?) species have evolved costly status signaling displays. The idea is that a high fitness male demonstrates his high status to females by showing he can afford to waste resources on, for example, showy plumage or sport cars. It is objectively better for the male’s survival to not have heavy plumage that could make escape from predators more difficult, or to save money for future contingencies instead of waste it on an expensive car; yet, males of different species will often acquire these presumable maladaptations or waste resources on nonessentials because sexual selection exerts a force equally as powerful as natural selection.

So goes the theory. In reality, the theory bumps up against a wall.

You can’t get much more handicapped that that, unless you were limbless and genital-less with a concave forehead.

People open to the ideas of evolutionary psychology sometimes forget that nature operates within a system of checks and balances just as free markets and republics (putatively) do. The Handicap Principle helps explain some odd evolved male traits in species, but nature is always ensuring that the evolved handicap never gets too far out of control. Because when that happens, it’s no longer a status signal; it’s a real handicap that will repulse women or get you killed.

Game and the Handicap Principle have a rocky relationship. Handicapping yourself — a la Mystery with his furry hats and Victorian coats — is a great way to signal high status, IF you have compensating alpha male traits. Mystery has those compensating traits; specifically, his height, his grace under pressure, and his renowned game ability to handle the inevitable female shit tests and seamlessly escort women through the stages of seduction.

If, on the other hand, you are short, ugly, nerdy, insecure and without any game at all, dressing like Mystery is apt to backfire. Your calculated self-handicapping will not be a signal of confidence and high status, but an actual handicap that makes your job of getting laid harder than it need be. For you, the appropriate level of self-handicapping would be something along the order of uncommon shiny cufflinks or a gaudy ring. Just enough to incite curiosity in women, but not so much to banish yourself to the realm of weirdos.

Maxim #55: The degree to which you handicap yourself in an effort to signal high status to women should be commensurate with your game expertise and your confidence level.

The more confidently you can pull off showy clothes or an asshole attitude, and the more effortlessly you can deflect the shit you will invariably get from others offended by your ostentation, the more the Handicap Principle will work for you instead of against you.

Keep in mind, as well, that Mystery’s fraught couture is a game tactic in itself, designed to provoke reactions from women that allow Mystery to demonstrate his alpha prowess through his unperturbed handling of those reactions. You should welcome shit tests from women, because that means you have aroused interest in them. Mystery’s garish dress is a short cut to coaxing those much-valued shit tests out of women. But you need unshakeable confidence bordering on delusion to successfully pull it off, which, in my observation of fledgling PUAs, most men practicing the dark art of pickup don’t have in sufficient quantity.

For the average man who has leapt above the fray and grasped that important sex differences in psychology exist and thus interactions with women require a different toolkit than conventional wisdom offers, the Handicap Principle will be most relevant to him during the comfort stage of seducing a woman into bed (or into a longer-term relationship). In CH parlance, this is known as “vulnerability game“, and it is vital, in small doses, as a quasi-handicapping game technique for strengthening emotional connections with women.

Signaling that you possess beta provider potential is a powerful bonding glue to women who are at heart creatures of duality seeking the best of both alpha and beta in men. But since alpha is in rarer supply and harder to acquire, and since beta comes naturally to most men and is easier to acquire, the trick to finding the right balance is to emphasize your alpha while leavening it with droppings of beta. These beta droppings are the equivalent of handicapping yourself with costly displays of provider plumage and emotional vulnerability. They will only work when you have already established your attitudinal alpha male seed-cred.

If you haven’t established that alpha seed-cred, your beta droppings will go over like an elephant’s dung heap, because they won’t be droppings so much as “more of the supplicating same”. This is why women love to feel like they have to struggle to get a man to admit his emotional core, and dislike having men dump a bucket of their emotional core all over them. As women perceive it, the struggle is an irrefutable sign that the man is non-needy, has options with other women, and will give her the challenge she subconsciously craves.

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Hookup Men Vs “For-Real” Men

Ah, the knee-slapping never ends when two feminist spinsters on a fast track to wall collision gab about their dating exploits and using men for either fun or profit. Naturally, their window for “using” men in any fashion is rapidly closing in lockstep with the degree of their drooping flesh, so any gchats that conspire bewteen these pitiful specimens often provide hours of voyeuristic entertainment watching what amounts to this:

Is anyone else down for a good, old-fashioned soul flaying? I know I am!

Chatting About Hookups and “For-Real” Dates with Sex Writer Tracy Clark-Flory

By Amanjaw Marcuntte

After reading Tracy Clark-Flory’s Salon piece from Saturday extolling the glories of traditional courtship, I knew I had to talk with her in more depth.

Clark-Flory’s (never trust a woman with a hyphenated name) swan song to her sexy and vital youth is basically an admission against interest that her high flying, alpha cock carouseling 20s are over and now that her sexual market options are dwindling she has to settle for boring dates with beta herbs who promise they will stick around like office fixtures instead of bolt while she’s coming off a multiple orgasm. Naturally, she hamsters this as a paean to the glories of “traditional courtship”. What’s the scientific term for this cognitive function? Oh yeah… making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

Tracy, who has been writing about sex and relationships for years, often in defense of the casual hookup, expressed a more nuanced view of the entire situation,

“nuanced” = deluded.

explaining how her increased interest in taking-it-slow, more formalized dating

“increased interest” = panic.

doesn’t, in any way, mean that she thinks that a past of more casual hooking up was the wrong choice.

The odds of divorce for a woman go way up the more partners with whom she has premaritally casually hooked up. Clark-Flory needs to think with more clarity.

Her take really cuts to the heart of what so many pro-sex feminist commentators have been trying to say for years about dating and sex, so I grabbed her on Gchat yesterday to talk more about it.

What follows is a beautiful digital mutual clit diddling wherein two mangy cougars assert they can have their cake and eat it too.

Amanda: I really liked your piece on going on a for-real date.

Tracy: This was literally my first for-real date ever.

What a catch! You know men — or should I say, desirable men with options — just love throwing tons of money and time and sexless dates at has-beens who spent their prime pussy years hooking up for free with men who agreed with them that dates were an unnecessary nuisance.

Tracy: Well, I should be clear: I’ve online dated. I’ve gone on dates. But most often they’re presented super casually. Like, hey, “Let’s hang out.” This was the first time someone clearly said to me: I want to take you out on a date, and here is the plan. Typically, whether it’s with “hang out” dates or hookups, it’s very low-investment—emotionally, financially, you name it.

A man will invest only as much as is required to get in a woman’s pants. Clark was obviously a pump and dump stock in her 20s who’s now trading for pennies but acting like a tech IPO. You know who invests in loser companies? Suckers.

Tracy: Right. I think it’s great that people can get to know each other casually. Grab a burrito and a beer! Make out at the bar! But it’s also nice to not feel totally stuck with diminished romantic expectations—as in, I can’t expect more than a taqueria “hangout” arranged last-minute via text message.

You should have thought of the danger of diminished romantic expectations while you still had the goods to entice worthy buyers. PS Having a history of being a big fat slut is not exactly an advertisement that you’re marriage material.

Amanda: That’s something I’ve noticed that a lot of friends complain about since I’ve moved to NYC: They think a lot of guys are just a little too eager to keep it casual. Which makes me wonder if it’s just that now that I’m in my 30s, my friends are developing higher expectations, or if it’s a geographic thing, where men in Texas, where I used to live, were more serious from the get-go?

No, it’s just that now that your female friends are in their 30s, and looking even more like fuzzy Chinese Crested versions of Samantha, they’re desperate to get hitched before the god of biomechanics cruelly escorts them to spinsterland, where cats compete with noodly beta males for their attention and the men they really want peer around them like they’re annoying houseplants obstructing the view of hotter younger tighter women.

Although it is a refreshing change of pace to see cathedral mascot Amanjaw give redneck Texas men a shout out for their chivalric wooing. I guess SWPL manboobs are finally grinding on her? (Double entendre intended.)

Tracy: I think both are probably very real factors! For me, at least, “hookups” have been a great way of getting to know myself, getting to know other people and getting to know what I want, romantically and sexually.

Hilariously self-serving cliché. How many penises does she have to straddle to get to know herself? Does the penis imbue some sort of special “consciousness raising” enlightenment once it has parted the labia? Should high school guidance counselors tell graduating girls to hop on a cock for career advice? I bet Clark has no trouble, being a member in good standing of the feminist cooperative, explaining to her acolytes that women require penetration by erect penises to discover the strong goddess inside them.

Now, personally, I think that a good rogering does help clear a woman’s head, but I’m not sure feminists would be happy to hear that from me.

But as I’ve gotten older—how I hate that phrase—I’ve wanted a broader spectrum of romantic scripts. And that’s when the hookup/low-commitment default became frustrating.

“broader spectrum” = loosened standards. “romantic scripts” = hiding her slutty compulsions. “hookup/low-commitment default” = couldn’t get a high value guy to stick around. “frustrating” = pumped and dumped.

Amanda: I think that’s what I really liked—your high regard for diversity.

Gabba gabba hey.

It’s not that hookups are bad, you said, but that they seem mandatory.

When all you have is a lack of options, the world looks like a mandate.

Why do you think it got to that point?

Gee, I dunno… age, attitude, obliviousness?

Tracy: I can at least speak to my own experience: I think I gravitated toward casual hookups during a time when I wasn’t quite ready for more serious commitment. I needed some time to play and experiment.

It’s all fun and games until no one wants to play with you anymore.

I think many people feel that way in their 20s.

There’s a reason why, historically, women were encouraged to get married before they hit 30. People used to be wise to the fact that women can easily forget how little time is on their side.

Amanda: That’s something that really was brought home in Hanna Rosin’s Atlantic piece about hooking up. She spoke to researchers that said that women were driving the culture as much as men, in no small part because, frankly, boyfriends can get in the way of other goals like getting your career underway.

Higamous hogamous
man is polygamous
hogamous higamous
woman is oblivious.

Amanda: A lot of people still buy the line that it’s something that men impose on women, that men are taking advantage of women’s, uh, “easiness”.

Well, men won’t exactly look a gift whore in the mouth.

That always bothered me, because there was never really a clear line for me between how quickly you slept with someone and whether or not it turned into wuv.

Here’s a clear line for ya: The hotter you are, the more quickly it will turn into wuv for the man, the other party involved in the interaction.

Amanda: Your point was really satisfying,

“Thank you, I needed that.”
– Ego

which is that what we really need is the ability to diversify: hook up if we want, go slow if we want, just do a bunch of different stuff depending on where we’re at.

Feminists, and women more generally, hate the idea of judgment and of consequences for their actions. They want to slut it up, take it slow, hook up, hang out, drag it out, do the woo, and try a bunch of different stuff without the judgment of men or other women cramping their uteri, and without worrying about the consequences which might ensue as a result of their panoply of choices. This is what is known in the literature as a fantasyland: a wonderful place in the puffy white clouds where human nature doesn’t exist and actions don’t cause reactions, except those reactions that the feminist dearly desires, which desire is subject to change at any given moment depending on the feminist’s whim.

But reality, so ugly in its clunking machinery, has a different plan for such utopian fruitcakes. Women *will* gossip unfavorably about sluts because those sluts represent a mating threat to their interests. Men *will* push for sex faster, and avoid commitment more studiously, with women they perceive as slutty. Sluts really *do* have tells that experienced men can clue in on. Cockteasers really *do* risk losing alpha males if they drag out the waiting period for sex too long. Aging, unfeminine spinsters with hairy chins and cheese grater attitudes really *will* have to settle for less desirable men than they could have gotten when they were younger, better looking and more docile. And hamsters really *will* spin their wheels more feverishly the higher the pile of delusional self-medicating lies grows.

I think that sort of thing causes a lot of men anxiety, though. I’ve noticed a lot of men in online spaces clamoring for a script.

Nah, that’s just you noticing that men are noticing your stupidity.

Tracy: Yes! There’s anxiety now about falling back on the more traditional dating script (which is not an entirely bad thing, mind you).

Can you blame these men? I’d be anxious too, if I had to traditionally (i.e., sexlessly) date a woman I knew gave it away for free in the past. And maybe present.

I think it feels too desperate, too eager to many young men. And, of course, intimacy and vulnerability have always been absolutely terrifying.

Why do feminists assert nonsense that intimacy is terrifying to men? Answer: it’s a female-friendly response that explains in elaborate mental calligraphy why they can’t keep a man around for more than a few ruttings, conveniently sidestepping the role that their physical unattractiveness might play.

Men are terrified of large, charging predators, like bears or lions or drunk fat chicks. They are not terrified of showering your overworked vagina with their warm seed. Get some perspective, will ya?

Amanda: Did you go on a second date with flowers guy who wanted to do nothing more but make out on the first date? Do you mind my asking? (I’ve been in a relationship for over six years now, so other people’s stories are my entertainment.)

The parameters of her… relationship… must be unique. Try to imagine the epic manboob who would have to settle for Amanjaw for six years, and then try to picture how long a normal man, such as yourself, would be willing to listen to her insane yapping.

Tracy: Actually, we’ve gone on something like five dates in a little over a week!

Lessee… guy wants to do nothing but make out on the first date. Clark dismisses his rapist effrontery by going on five more dates with him in the span of a single week. The femborg will be disappointed to hear this.

Tracy: Yes! It’s incredibly refreshing. And a large part of it is that I’m ready for that for the first time in my life, you know?

We know, Tracy, we know. You’re ready… because you have to be ready. That door won’t stay open forever.

It’s not like I’ve been yearning for that this whole time and have only now found a guy willing to give it to me.

Funny how you suddenly yearn for the self-abdicating loving lovingness of a desperate beta willing to lap your weirdo feminist shit when your expiration date is coming into focus.

Amanda: LOL yeah, that strikes me as an incredibly critical point.

Strike while the ego is exposed.

But that really leads to the question I know a bunch of men are asking themselves, which is how do you know what script a woman is interested in?

You misspelled “how do you know what script a hot woman is interested in?”

How do you know if you should keep it light or show up with flowers and a request that you take it slow?

False dichotomy. A man can keep it heavy and fast, too. In fact, that’s the best way to get a woman into bed, if you’re needing a script that has a high success rate.

Worst script: Pre-sex flowers. Never do that, at least not with women who still have more than a few eggs left in the chamber.

Tracy: Well, see, I think timing is so much of it. It really isn’t something that can be faked.

Oh rilly? I’m pretty sure in the history of the world there were more than a few men who successfully faked long-term romantic intentions to get speedy sex.

You can only do what you’re ready to do.

Bromide pie to the face.

If you want to bring a woman flowers, do it.

Hey, you can do anything you want, but that doesn’t mean it’s an advantageous course of action.

If you want to have casual flings, do that.

What if Clark’s flower guy decides during week number two he wants a casual fling?

Eventually you’ll find a lady who wants the same thing.

A lady now! How polite of you, madam. Will a Furry who likes to masturbate into soft bunny costume velour eventually find a lady who wants the same thing? What about a Bronie? A street flasher? A serial killer?

Oops, scratch that last one.

Amanda: That’s something I think gets lost in the overflow of dating advice out there, which is that it really is something you can figure out for yourself.

Then why the hell are you flapping your gums? And more relevantly, why the hell do media outlets continue giving shell entities like yourself a publishing platform? Mysteries of the universe.

Allow me to cut a serrated swath through this post-gender, social constructivist swamp muck. Amanjaw Marcuntte and her ilk absolutely hate men in the abstract and loathe unrestricted male desire. They work tirelessly for a world, however ultimately fruitless the endeavor, where female sexuality is free to roam wild and unjudgeable and male sexuality is straitjacketed, regulated, restricted, demonized, ridiculed and made obedient through law or eunuch alliance to female, particularly feminist, caprice. This is modern, critical theory feminism in a desiccated ovum. It’s a farce, but the bigger joke is that media organs happily provide advocates of this farce a forum to dazzle their awomen choruses.

Her’s a little slice of truth… just a little mind you, enough to qualify as hope and change but not so much to entice pointing and sputtering… for the Slate and Salon crowds and the Clark-Flory-Hamster-Hi-I’m-A-Useless-Self-Gratifying-Hyphen contingent:

There is no difference between hookup men and “for-real” men. The men you skanky, aging broads want “for real” are the hookup men who weren’t interested in the same thing you wanted back when you had more to offer. So you dropped your standards and unilaterally declared the more pliable men willing to play by your newly-discovered “traditional cougar courtship” rules the “for-real” men you claim you always desired.

That hatetalk is drawn from real world observation. Mine, and the collected wisdom of millions of men like me. Now, if you don’t like common sense derived from real world observation, then you can always turn to science, which has a funny habit of frequently confirming what we can all see with our lying eyes, and of debunking cherished feminist narratives.

“Under the hormonal influence of ovulation, women delude themselves into thinking that the sexy bad boys will become devoted partners and better dads,” Durante said. “When looking at the sexy cad through ovulation goggles, Mr. Wrong looked exactly like Mr. Right.” […]

“When asked about what kind of father the sexy bad boy would make if he were to have children with another woman, women were quick to point out the bad boy’s shortcomings,” said Durante. “But when it came to their own child, ovulating women believed that the charismatic and adventurous cad would be a great father to their kids.”

“While this psychological distortion could be setting some women up to choose partners who are better suited to be short-term mates, missing a mating opportunity with a sexy cad might be too costly for some women to pass up,” said Durante. “After all, you never know if he could be the ‘one.’”

If you didn’t get that, what it means is that women want their alpha hookups to turn into “for-real” men, but, unlike Clark’s assertion that she’s the one making the choice in which men she considers “for-real” dates, it’s actually the men (coupled with her desperation fueled by her rapidly closing attractiveness window) who are indirectly deciding for her which of them she’ll have to settle with in happily “for-realness” after.

Yes, the hookup jerks chicks love are also the jerks chicks wish would stop dicking around and CHOO CHOO CHOOSE them.

If you are a man, the lesson is obvious:

Do you want to live free as a hookup man with the option to convert to a “for-real” man, or live knowing you’re the backup plan as a “for-real” man with no option to convert to a hookup man?

I think I know which man most men would prefer to emulate. But don’t tell it to Clark-Flory. She might ask you out on five straight dates in the same week after your tongue has been down her throat wooing the shit out of her.

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182 Days Of Blue Balls

Are happiness and sex antagonistic? A new study reports that couples who waited to have sex were happier in the long run. (Usual caveats about the accuracy of Daily Mail reporting apply.)

A study of hundreds of couples found those who waited to have sex were happier in the long-run.

Women particularly benefited from not leaping into bed at the first opportunity. Marriage also seemed to make them happier than co-habiting.

The researchers said delaying sex gave couples time to get to know each other and work out just how compatible they were.

Without this period of courtship, judgment can be clouded, leading to couples falling into unfulfilling long-term relationships. […]

Analysis of the data clearly showed the women who had waited to have sex to be happier. And those who waited at least six months scored more highly in every category measured than those who got intimate within the first month. Even their sex lives were better.

The link was weaker for men. However, those who waited to get physically involved had fewer rows.

Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder? Would seem like it. But not so fast.

First, I’m not surprised women who waited — or, more precisely, made their beta boyfriends wait — were more satisfied with their relationships. Women are psychologically, and ultimately biologically, predisposed to prefer holding out for sex, because it allows them more time to judge men’s mate quality and investment potential without risking a pregnancy by a man who might flee the next morning. There are very good evolutionary reasons why a woman would make a suitor wait as a test of his commitment to her. A man who is willing to suffer 182 days of this:

…is a man who is likely to stick around after she pops out a newt.

Second, selection bias. Does waiting to have sex really make couples happier, or are couples who are more likely to wait for sex also more likely to be content and fight less within long-term monogamous relationships? I suspect the latter. The kind of people who empathize easily and go along to get along are also the kind of people who have the patience of a saint. I bet people like this also have lower sex drives. It’s doubtful that sex itself, or refraining from having sex, is the causative factor in their happiness.

Third, some recent studies have shown that men derive their happiness within relationships from their lovers’ happiness. That is, when their women are happy, men are happy. The reverse is not necessarily true. So a woman who has held out for sex to make an “unclouded” judgment — and isn’t it funny that women think more clearly when abstaining from sex, while men think more clearly when sexually fulfilled? — is more likely to be happy with her choice of man, and consequently her happiness will infuse her man’s happiness level. But a man would be just as happy with a sexpot who put out early and often as long as she was happy with him (and faithful).

The biggest problem with this study is definitional. Happiness is not love, and it’s not sexual attraction. Love is passion. Happiness is contentment. Love is volatility. Happiness is calm acceptance, even noble resignation. Love is dizzying crescendos. Happiness is rhythmic tempo. Love is hope. Happiness is the relinquishment of hope. Similar contrasts can be made between happiness and lust. Conflating all these as if they were of equal merit, or equally valued, is misleading.

Most couples do not wait 182 days to have sex with the goal of maximizing their mutual happiness, and so we can conclude that most couples are willing to forego long-term happiness for short-term ecstasy. Our revealed preferences indicate that happiness is not high on our mental checklist of values or emotional states.

It’s an intriguing hypothesis, though, that the happiness women gain from lengthy periods of enforced abstinence they sacrifice in sexual and romantic satisfaction. The committed beta provider that female-compelled (and it’s rarely male-compelled) abstinence selects for comes at the cost of losing the sexy alpha cad that female-compelled abstinence selects against.

Maybe some massively underacknowledged subculture of preternaturally abnegating abstinent Evangelicals exists of which I’m only dimly aware that skews the average time couples spend in sexless purgatory well into the double and triple digit days, but in the world I live in — the one that’s pretty much a given in any community that isn’t orthodox religious — a 60 day wait for sex is nearly unheard of, let alone a 182 day wait. In fact, a wait beyond three weeks is pretty much folly for any man dating your typical SWPL chick; by that time, she will have moved on to fucking some dude who actually turns her on. Even the women who say they want to wait longer than convention would react with disbelief if a man told them he would be willing to wait six months before having sex. It’s that weird.

What good is long-term happiness if you can’t even score the short-term thrill? There’s the rub. As a man, you are really rolling low odds by pursuing, or, more precisely, by abiding the woman’s pursuing, the “wait to elate” strategy. The far-future happiness and relationship stability that a long sexless courtship might offer is greatly outweighed by the high risk that you de facto castrate yourself to the woman you are chastely wooing. You’d be a fool to avoid the bedroom for very long, when there is a good chance some other man will distract your girl’s attention during her prolonged bout of purity. And an even better chance you’ll accidentally say or do something during the dry months of your courtship that extinguishes the spark of her attraction for you.

This severing of happiness from sexual triumph, for both sexes, is one of the great unrecognized repercussions of the past 60 years of our Wild West mating market. And it seems like this is exactly the way most of us want it.

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Beta Males Settle For Fat Chicks

Beta males are more anxious, fidgety, alert and quicker to react to local disturbances than are alpha males. We know this from observing it in the field, and now from various scientific studies examining the phenomenon. The short of it is, if you’re an alpha male, you don’t need as wide a margin of safety as beta males do, for you are less likely than they are to get cold-cocked, challenged or to lose a fight or dominance contest should one erupt. This lower need for safety precautions allows the alpha male to relax in his environment and to assume open, welcoming postures that are alluring to women. It follows that beta males, by practicing and adopting the cool, aloof mannerisms of the alpha male, can attract more and better women. Body language improvement is a fundamental tenet of game, and it works so effectively at heating up interest from women that some men might be tempted to call it magic.

Beta males, then, are in a constant state of heightened anxiety; also known as being stressed out. The world is a dangerous place, especially for beta males. If you feel stressed out all the time, like you’re losing control of your life or your surroundings, odds are good you are a beta male.

Now science comes along, trotting in like a merry prankster, to prove, albeit for those with a keen eye for reading between the lines, that beta males — i.e., stressed males — are more likely than relaxed, confident, self-satisfied alpha males to settle for the losers of womanhood.

Increased stress in men is associated with a preference for heavier women, according to research published Aug. 8 in the open access journal PLOS ONE.

The researchers, led by Viren Swami of the University of Westminster in London, compared how stressed versus non-stressed men responded to pictures of female bodies varying from emaciated to obese.

They found that the stressed group gave significantly higher ratings to the normal weight and overweight figures than the non-stressed group did, and that the stressed group generally had a broader range of figures they found attractive than the non-stressed group did.

These results, the authors write, are consistent with the idea that people idealize mature morphological traits like heavier body size when they experience an environmental threat such as stress.

The researchers go on to speculate that stressed men gravitate (heh) to fat chicks because those women are perceived as being better able to survive periodic famines, and to have higher social status that allows them to afford more food.

Tidy speculation that toes the feminist line, but I’ll tell you the powerhouse knockout punch this study really delivers:

Stressed men are beta males with limited mating market options who learn to increase their chances of getting laid by widening their field of view (double-wide heh) to include fatter chicks who themselves have limited options and are thus easier to bed.

Why are stressed men gimped in the sexual market? Women don’t want to be around anxious, stressed men. Women prefer the company of relaxed, self-assured men; these men are signaling that they have the resources, and the ability to get more resources should the need arise, that women value in potential mates. Thin, beautiful women have the highest value, and the most options, of all women, so they are the ones most likely to adhere to very tough standards and to act on their preference for large and in-charge alpha males.

Are beta males *constitutionally* more attracted to fat chicks when they’re stressed? Probably not. What men find attractive in women — which doesn’t deviate much from the universal preference for a 17-23 BMI and a 0.7 waist-hip ratio — is pretty much set by conception, and then later by that first thermonuclear blast of hindbrain hormones that floods our systems at puberty. Recall back to that time you got a surprise “what the hell is this?” boner from staring at the teenage red-headed girl’s tight tush and narrow waist. Was that boner preprogrammed by cultural cues to rise on command? Or did it just happen on its own, intrinsic to your being, immune to external suasion, summoned from the depths of your primordial subconscious to lurch your body into spasms of delight?

Stressed out betas don’t prefer fat chicks to thinner chicks; (as the study showed but the researchers… ahem… chose to paper over in their conclusion, stressed betas actually gave the same high scores as relaxed alphas gave to the thin chicks. The difference is that alpha males did not over-inflate (triple bank shot heh) the attractiveness of the fatter chicks). What stressed beta males prefer is the inclusion of a larger (fourth heh?) pool of lower value women rightly perceived by these betas as being easier for them to get than hotter, thinner chicks.

Once you remove the stressor from the lives of these beta males, they go right back to preferring slender babes. You could say that a happy man is a man who hates the sight of fat chicks. I’m sure fat chicks will be pleased to learn that they can clean up with unhappy, neurotic men.

So that is the brutal truth this study confirms for those of us who have lived a day in our lives and witnessed happening over and over among real human beings instead of the opposite that is claimed to happen by internet shut-ins and cocooned, deluded feminists:

Maxim # 23: Limited options = looser standards.

When life is going well for a man, he demands the best for himself. The best will always be slim, pretty, young women. When life is shitting on a man, he reaches out to fellow losers with whom he can share his lonely love. The losers will always be fat, ugly, and/or older women. His ego then does the job of convincing his higher order brain functions that the fat chick he’s plowing kinda has a cute face in the right light: total darkness.

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When Beta Male Strategies Can Work

Beta male sexual market strategies are not always doomed to failure. They can work under certain conditions. The two primary scenarios in which the beta male strategy is workable (if not necessarily optimal) are:

1. As a “softening agent” to improve your attainability, or your “long term lover” potential, if your alpha male traits have pushed a woman too far into feeling unloved and unneeded.

2. As a self-advertisement for long term relationship suitability, given preexisting sufficiently compensatory alpha male traits.

Number one is a game corrective. Number two is a specific game strategy designed to screen out girls who would make bad long term relationship prospects, and attract women who are looking to settle down.

Note that the common denominator in all successful beta male mating strategies is the assumption of some degree of preexisting alpha male characteristics, or an already present alpha male dynamic within a relationship. Beta male strategies, in other words, are meant as adjuncts to alpha male, or high value male, game.

The reverse — adjunct alpha male strategies to complement low value beta male game — is hardly ever an effective strategy for attracting and bedding the women you want. But it can be a decent way of life for beta providers who wish to spice up their marriages as a preventative against wifely infidelity or bitchiness.

In very unusual circumstances, an extreme form of beta male game — the loathsome male feminist orbiter — can occasionally redound in rare, ungainly and passionless sexual favors from the manipulative, flabby wymyn to whom this execrable species (hello hugo!) ingratiates himself. But it is not a strategy any man who understood women would recommend, for the cost in investment, time and psychological health far outweighs the meager sexual payout. And yet, this seems to be the strategy most (Western) men naturally gravitate toward, owing partly to the enfeebled state of mind of the modern man and partly to the low risk-low reward structure of such a strategy, a structure which appeals to large swaths of humanity unwilling to leave their bubbles of comfort.

Conveniently, there is a fantastically laughable Yahoo/Match article highlighting reader emails from people who describe how they “won their sweeties back”. Most of the confessions are nauseatingly beta, and students of game may well wonder how such tactics could possibly work on women.

Assuming for purposes of this post that all these emails aren’t just made up by bored Yahoo staff, we can use them as illustrations of what sorts of compensatory alpha dynamics have to be in place for hardcore beta male game to work. Reading the subtext opens a window to hidden alpha game that buttresses the beta male supplicating, and allows the latter to flourish, however temporarily.

He rapped his way back into her good graces
“I had a fight with a girl I was dating, and to try and get over it, I went out with the guys, and one thing led to another. Eventually, the phone got pulled out and I called her. She phoned me the next day and said I’d left her the sweetest, funniest voicemail ever. Apparently, I apologized and told her how much I cared about her all in the form of a freestyle rap! I couldn’t believe it, and neither could she. I can’t rap to save my life, but she said she hadn’t smiled that big in awhile.”
— Marty, 31

Creating a rap song about how much you care about a girl sounds awfully beta, but check the context: he had a fight with his girl and fled the scene to chill with buds. Fighting is typically a demonstration of alphaness. Beta males tend to get passive-aggressive, sulky or apologetic. A real fight excites women because they crave drama. Put a fist through the wall and you have just opened the vaginal floodgates. Also, framing your “apology” in the form of a song is not only a signal of creativity — an alpha trait women love — but also a clever way of not really saying you’re sorry as it has come to be conventionally understood and expected. So what we have here is a facsimile of beta male game wrapped in the bear hug of alpha male context.

He went to great lengths to tell her how he felt
“My girlfriend and I had been taking a break from dating for about a week. Things were all good until we ran into each other one day. We both pretended like nothing was wrong, but I couldn’t take it anymore and I called her shortly after. Right in the middle of a fairly deep conversation, tears and everything, my cell phone died. I needed to see her, so I walked seven miles to her house in the rain (what can I say? I had transportation issues that day) and showed up shivering, coughing, and barefoot on her front steps. We agreed the fight was over — and that I was stupid for not having a land line.”
— Matt, 24

Getting dumped: beta. Taking a mutual break: alpha. Again, context matters. This guy was already in a position of alphaness when he called his girlfriend to reconnect. Perception is all that matters in women’s hearts and in seduction, and the perception of him here would have worked to his benefit. Bonus accidental alpha validation: cell phone death. Nothing says “alpha male” like cutting a girl off mid-conversation when she’s pouring out her heart.

His sneaky “sorry” proved to be fruitful
“I had a huge fight with my girlfriend. We decided we should talk things out and be civil before making any permanent decisions about our relationship. We met, and it turned out to be really awkward. But when she wasn’t looking, I slipped a picture of a banana in her bag. Across the top it said, ‘I’m still bananas for you.’ Corny, I know, but she called me when she found it and said it made her laugh. Things got better from there.”
— Ed, 26

Making light of a tense situation and playing around with a girl’s emotions demonstrates amused mastery; the banana photo was funny in a dorky way, but at least it wasn’t apologetic or cloying. He reframed this drama to his benefit, and in the process hit all her “unpredictable alpha male” buttons. Plus, the context was post-fight, which we know is a good context to be in if you want to spark a girl’s passionate desire.

His sincerity hit all the right (love) notes
“My girlfriend and I had a fight the day before Valentine’s Day. I got a hundred of those little kid Valentine cards with SpongeBob SquarePants and the Backstreet Boys on them and wrote different things I liked about her on each one. I put them all into a box wrapped with plain brown paper, and I drew a heart on the top that said ‘I’m sorry.’ She called me when she found them on her doorstep and forgave me.”
— John, 25

Alpha context: post-fight. Alpha trait: creativity. Execution: beta.

Very creative, but sickeningly beta, efforts at making up can work on some women (hint: fat or ugly women with few options), but the glow she feels will wear off much more quickly than would the glow from an expression of creativity that is alpha in nature and delivered with alpha insouciance.

He drew her back into his heart, though her neighbors were not amused
“I was totally in love with this woman, but we broke up because I got angry and jealous when she wanted to spend a day with a good guy friend of hers. Of course, I immediately realized how stupid I’d been. So, during the middle of the night, I snuck over and wrote ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me’ on the side of her neighbor’s house in sidewalk chalk so that she could see it from her bedroom. They were mad, but it washed off. And it worked.”
— Chris, 32

Did it really work, Chris? Or did she “go back” to you after she took “good guy friend’s” dick in her box. Never assume the best about a woman who is spending time with other men, no matter how much she insists she loves you.

But I’ll give you points for the chalk graffiti. Defacing property is kind of alpha.

Even girls can get in on the act of beta female game.

Their love story got a happy Hollywood ending after all
“I was head over heels for a guy and he dumped me. I thought if I could just remind him of our intense connection, he would see the light. I was working at a filmmaking company and used the editing facilities to splice classic movie breakup scenes together with disturbing scenes from Apocalypse Now. Anyone else would have probably gotten a restraining order, but I knew his sense of humor, and I knew he would think it was funny. He loved it, and we’re still together.”
— Amy, 34

“if I could just remind him of our intense connection…” Man oh man, is that not just a perfect archetypical hamster rationalization? “I know he loves me because we had an intense connection. He just dumped me because he got scared.” Goddamned priceless.

Anyhow, if this chick is telling the truth, she must be really REALLY hot. Because, in reality, that’s the only sort of “game” that works for women, especially women who do weird stalkerish shit like she did.

That’s enough for this post. Sometimes beta male game can win an attractive woman over if it’s executed with extreme creativity, whimsy, ballsiness or unpredictability, and is reinforced by a preexisting alpha male context. “Sometimes” being the key word here, because if you think that this sort of rom-com sappy beta male suckuppery is the ticket to poon paradise or marital bliss, you will be sorely reminded of the squalid nature of female sexuality in short order. Beta male game should be the seasoning to your alpha male main course. When betaness becomes the main course, women get their fill of your starchy sycophancy not long after the appreciative smile leaves their faces.

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