Comment Of The Week

Ryan explains the silent conversation that goes on between a women’s vagina and brain when she listens to a man insinuate his higher value:

How to overtly DHV without overtly DHVing:

Roleplay as the super-cocky asshole. Flash a crooked smile while you brag shamelessly. Make it a shit-eating grin every time you manage to effortlessly tease across her alleged line. Dismiss all those playful attempts to dethrone your ego. When she tries to flip the script by leading you into obvious absurdity, assume a position of faux-humility and make fun of her ridiculous suggestion.

Never speak what you both know. Subconsciously, she’s thinking:

a) He can actually pull off being an asshole quite well; and without fear of rejection or repercussions, so he’s not just a bitter, cowardly wannabe…

b) But he’s also mocking the guys who are legitimate assholes — the guys I typically tingle for — with amusement, as if he’s above them…

c) I’m superficially getting all the excitement and ego-management I crave from jerks, yet possibly without the inevitable negative aspects, which require so much tedious rationalization…

d) Brain: Uh oh.
Vagina: Send that arrogant smooth-talker my way.
B: Hasn’t ended well in the past…
V: Just do it, bitch. Now.
B: Can’t you at least pretend to persuade me? I’ve got a self-image to protect here, and we’re both gonna need it one day so that I won’t give off slut-tells. I’ve actually been reading some stuff by Robert Trivers lately about the function behind —
V: Alriiiiight, all right. Geez. OK, here: can you just try focusing on the possibility that this is the one special exception, then, instead of, well, the high probability that this is, like every time in the past, just a case of me recklessly getting us into some shit and asking your hamster to bail me out?
B: Is that sarcasm?
V: Oh, right. See? Nothing to worry about. Do your thing.
B: So you promise this is safe?
V: No.
B: (greasing enormous wheel): Ugh. I swear, this is the last time. I’m not covering for you anymore after this, dammit.
V: Shut up. Nomnomnom!

Except (d) won’t actually happen.

Runner-up is a comment by ‘From the can’ (great nick, btw), who discusses omega male game:

Counterpoint: dude is running Jabba game. He eats what the fuck he wants and drinks his fucking juice from a baby bottle. Juice? No, blue label. Girlfriend? No, human beanbag chair. I’ll bet she’s comfortable as fuck, AND gives back rubs. Also, this bastard gets his money from the populace: regal. What this picture is hiding is the smoking hot princess on a chain. Totes jelotes of this pimp.

Totes means “totally”. Not sure what jelotes means.

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Comment Of The Week

From lock n’ load:

It’s amazing how much blubba bitch’s SMV increases when she just LOSES SOME GODDAMN WEIGHT.

I remember a woman who lost 45 lbs because she lost her job and had to eat oranges from a tree in her backyard to survive. Before, when she was chubby, I did not want any part of her. When she reappeared minus the weight, her attractiveness hextupled. I did not care about her financial troubles, I genuinely found myself interested.

There ya go, folks. A funny story that illustrates the huge differences between the sexes. If you’re a fat woman who has lost your job and are forced to eat nothing but oranges from a backyard tree to survive, resulting in weight loss down to a slender profile, you will become more attractive to men, including financially sound men who could whisk you away from your misery.

Fatness: it matters to your life outcomes, ladies.

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Comments Of The Month

From Marcus:

Mystery is a great example of a guy who has a tremendous amount of empathy for both men and women. I remember watching a video where he was training a new coach, and when the coach said something about bitch shields, Mystery corrected him, calling them “protection shields”. He wasn’t doing it to be PC or to avoid offending women (there were none present) – rather, he was working through the problem in real time by imagining why a woman might behave like a bitch when a man first approaches her.

It sounds strange, but this blog has made me less of a misogynist. I have come to view women as elegant machines — machines for using, to be sure — that mostly do a damned good job of doing what they were designed to do. As I get more comfortable and consistent at either aggressively torquing their levers or gently greasing their gears at just the right moments, my appreciation only deepens.

As with machines, my love of women tends to be more general than specific. Upgrades are always welcome.

I preen. Would that the army of tards who occasionally spill into this exclusive estate reflect on the fact that the underlying message is in reality a romanticist hymn to the unique and abiding attributes of women, warts and all, and to the good that can come from seeing women as they really are instead of as what we wish they were, there would be more love in the world.

And not that fraudulent asexual love that new agers yap about.

***

Comment #2 is from “Me”:

Text messaging back and forth should never be done. He should be too busy out making money or shovelling snow or digging ditches to bury his enemies or some shit like that.

Just ask yourself if Ghengis Khan, a man who killed his first man to prove himself ready to lead his household at age 12..a man who, along with his children and grandchildren, did so much fucking his genes are still active to this day, would be text messaging. I do not think so.

Genghis Khan game. Would Genghis Kahn text? No, he wouldn’t. If a girl texted in front of him while they were on a date (assuming Genghis takes a break from his impressive harem to squeeze in a legitimate date), he would grab the phone out of her hand, place it on a table, and cleave it in two with his war sword. The girl would be pissed, but she’d spend the next five years of her life thinking about him. Five minutes of world bestriding conqueror beats 500 years of beta.

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Best Reader Comments

It’s commenter appreciation day, when I pay tribute to the love and joy that you, the readers, bring to this shadowy outpost. Consider today a respite from hateration and an embrace of loveration.

First, the best pulled from the files of Kick a Bitch:

damn that bitch fell out of the ugly tree and smacked EVERY branch on her way down.

you couldn’t crack that head with a sledge-hammer.

– “Visualizing Omega”

I’m ashamed to admit this… but I’m afraid of stank-ass unkempt vaginal canals. You don’t have a stank-ass unkempt vaginal canal do you?

Look at that shit… straight MONEY. Not only did I utilize a VMD, I also tossed in a little qualifier as well.

Bitches don’t even see it coming.

– “Vulnerability Game”

both are fat, would only let them give me head. i would also try my best to gizz on their face.

granted, this would apply to most women but wth, figured i would toss it out there.

– “Fat Or Not Fat?”

wow, i REALLY like to use the word bitch don’t i?

haha, misogyny rules…

– “A Test Of Your Game”

players do what they do because they want as much validation from women as possible.

uh… i think it’s more like players want as much tight, hot, young snappy-nappy dugout wrapped around their johnsons [as they can].

i mean, i’m just saying… i imagine i could be wrong on this one.

– “Used”

For the record, you fags need to suck on my vinegary balls.

– “Safeway Siren”

***

Powers draws an apt comparison:

Girls like game like men like porn.

Men know exactly what’s going to happen in a porno and they enjoy it all the same.

In fact, the closer the porn conforms to his fantasy, the more he likes it.

Game is the same.

– “Does It Matter If Girls Know About The Game?”

***

The Vic Valentine/G Manifesto duet was one of the funniest things to happen to this blog’s comments section. Here’s a selection of V.V.’s best:

I would go for option #8:

Pull out a bag of 100 E-Tabs and kilo of coke I just got delivered by three Swedish stewardesses and say:

“Who threw this party? It sucks. Let’s get this gig going! Everyone take three E-Tabs!”

Shoot the DJ in the head and throw on a Rush album.

Then commence getting every girl in the place to go home with you and the girl you are dating.

– “How Good Is Your Alpha Acumen?”

I was the one banging the groupies at that age, back when I used to shop at Savile Row Junior and eat Flintstones chewable E-Tabs. My prepubescent penis would probably put the G-Man’s adult unit to shame.

– “Did Michael Jackson Commit Suicide?”

“True story. I once pulled my dick out on a young 18 year old lady at college and claimed that it was 9 inches…..she fucking loved it and i procceeded to bang her multiple times.”

Until I rolled up in my Ecosse Titanium, showed her my 15″, banged her right in front of you, and then tore off at 200mph. I thought I saw you crying in my rearview through all the dust and exhaust fumes.

– “500 Days Of Beta”

“IME a significant number of non-westernized Asian girls make crying noises during sex.”

An elephant would make crying noises during sex with Vic Valentine.

– “The Perfect Answer To ‘I Have A Boyfriend’”

My current watch is a 201-carat Chopard. If you’re on a budget, check out the Louis Moinet Magistralis.

– “The World’s First Hot Chick With Douchebag”

“A dog will probably tell you how alpha you are”

True. I once had a dog try to sniff my level of alphaness. He exploded.

– “Owning A Dog Is Training For Owning A Woman”

“designs on the Zippo (ace of spades, for example), colors (black, green, red) or only plain?”

Most of mine are made of Rare Earth Metals (Francium, Astatine, etc.), I also have one made out of Higgs Bosons.

But they also come in platinum if you’re budget-conscious.

– “What To Do When A Girl Starts Crying For No Reason”

***

But the G Manifesto will not be outdone:

Once they handed me the camera, I would say thanks, flip it over, pour some blow on the screen and snort it.

Then say to the guy:

“Hey waiter guy, grab me a double vodka soda!  And double time it!  I am pretty wired right now!”

Then turn back to the girls, pile of blow on the camera, and say:

“Oh.  Would you like some too?”

Later, I would roll back to their standard double room at The Radission  (all four girls sharing two beds no doubt) and whistle up some champagne and vodka from room service.

I would deny the Asian girl from ordering the “grande Nachos”.

Then I would swoop them all.

A true gentleman always denies a girl the grande nachos. Who said chivalry was dead?

***

Cannon’s Canon rolled out a charming tale from the hood:

Off topic: I was playing basketball outside tonight in Ann Arbor.  As I approached the court, I saw a white female behemoth standing and watching next to a short black man.  The man appeared very short and slightly misshapen; I assumed some crippling physical impediment.  The woman was a true whale, possibly comparing unfavorably to Cigstache.  Her neck was fatter than her head and cascaded as a trapezoid toward her blubbery body.  I was impressed to note she walked without a cane, as I was certain she would qualify as handicapped.  Her MC Hammer mumu-pants were form-fitting toward the waistline, which was graciously covered by a ragged size 7xl t-shirt that even Cheese from The Wire could not pull off fashionably.  I made no remark of their race, because they were both, categorically, just “retarded.”

Imagine my surprise when this guy got on and showed the poise, speed, and handle requisite to a point guard.  He was one of the best players on the court, and I quickly ruled out classifiable mental retardation.  While he certainly was not a handsome man, his athleticism and confidence implied a base virility for the sexual marketplace.  He could surely fuck 2s or 3s with ease.

Then it dawned on me… My God!  GNP has been preaching the straight truth, not that I ever doubted it.  Here was a black man scraping the absolute nadir of the barrel.  By keeping such a vile beast sexually relevant, he removes the need for this fatso and such phenotypes before her to improve themselves at all!  This was not mere “retard love” as I’d first suspected, but rather, a black man’s willingness to make love to a veritable retard.  I shook my head in disappointment at this act of terrorism against the white man’s well-being.

Every time an obese woman manages to get laid, god smites a kitten. By sitting on it.

***

Mu’Min Seeks FAAAAT WuMin answered Cannon’s comment above:

The thing is, each black dude does not keep only one woman fat.  He keeps THREE woman fat.  One black dude services three fatties at once, inflicting asymmetrical damage to the beauty stats.

They prefer the fat black women, however, since they want women who resemble the great beasts of Africa in size, shape, color, and texture.  White women only manage the size and shape, but can’t really simulate the color and texture of a rhino or elephant or cape buffalo.  Only black women can.

I scratch my head as to why my blog has not entered the respectable mainstream yet.

***

And here’s another gold comment from Cannon’s Canon:

places i would jizz on january jones, a top five list:

1. her pursed lips
2. a shielding cheek
3. a bullseye forehead
4. titties, pressed together
5. backshot city, using the vertebral column as a makeshift measuring device (can i clear L4 tonight???)

oh yeah, her last shriveling excretion from those unused ovaries, via the bottom of her pussy-hole?  not on the list!  well, the top 20 list anyway.

***

Raddark had an insightful comment about why women sympathetically identify with beta males in the movies when they don’t do the same in real life:

“Can someone shed some light on why women enjoy watching beta males on the screen, but are repulsed by them in real life?”

They see themselves in the role of the beta, not the girl the beta is chasing. They transplant the dynamic they’re aware of most (wanting that guy at the top of the food chain, and him not giving her a look) into the situation. It’s a twisted kind of empathy. Twisted because they deliberately make themselves blind to seeing themselves being in the role of the movie love interest. That would cause too much discomfort. Thinking that they might be causing heartache and pain to so many men is not a thought that can be allowed to pass through their head without some kind of rationalisation to neutralise it. The biggest rationalisation they come up with of course is that the beta male deserves what they get because of some inherent personality flaw. Hence the pure hatred a lot of girls display towards betas. It makes the pain they cause through rejection no longer their responsibility. “I hurt him? So what, he’s a dweeb.” In the movie they don’t have to go through that rationalisation process because they’re identifying with the male hero, not the female villain.

***

Welmer gives us a slice of his interesting life:

ZEETS: Just the way she laughed at all my jokes. She smiled every time I spoke. And then back at my place we were sitting on the couch, and I started kissing her neck. She moaned loudly, high-pitched, like a horny kitten. I wonder if all Asian girls moan that loudly.

The whore who lived a couple floors below me in Beijing moaned that way every single night, all summer long. It was a well-honed performance — she should have tried out for the Peking Opera.

**

Game Skeptic believes game will be the ruin of Western civ:

After a great deal of investigation, analysis, and reflection, I have concluded Game is incompatible with Aryan DNA and traditions, and its practitioners are enemies of western civilization.  Additionally, the whole thing is straight sociopathy.  I’ll elaborate in future comments, but it was the praising of that stupid fucking bug eyed Australian teenager as the ultimate alpha which sealed the deal; you guys are fucking nuts.

A funny image pops into my head of Nazis poring over an illustrated guide to enemies of the volk, except instead of big hook noses, the illustrations are of men in furry hats and guyliner.

***

Young bachelor gig is always good for a laugh:

yoga is evil, it is a satanic art.

it allows herbish, SWPL men the chance of being themselves and still bang hot girls instead of following their rightful [path] towards bachelorhood and extinction.

***

the best dog is your parents´ dog or your married brothers´ dog.

you can play alpha as much as you want and avoid dog´s shit, worry about dog´s food, about the inherent gayness of having a dog looking at you while you jerk off and barking while you fuck a girl.

also, fucking a girl who owns a dog kind of feels, for you and the dog, like a cuckolding.

***

This comment by Chrissi Minx could be a Lifetime movie of the week:

Let me start from the beginning, I am 18 and my sister is 21. I just finished high school and my sister is home from college. I guess this year her grades started slipping or something, because I walked past her room and she was crying. I walked inside her room to ask her what’s up and she hands me a letter – apparently she’s up for review by her college for dismissal. I feel kinda sorry for her so I gave her a hug and one thing led to another and we started making out. This is really weird because I’ve made out with girls before, but my sister blows them all out of the water. In the back of my mind lies the fact that she’s my sister and what we are doing is sick and wrong, but I guess my sister has more experience and it felt so fucking good.

Here’s the dilemma – after making out, Karen started taking her clothes off and she started pulling my pants down. I’m like, hey, what are you doing? She’s like, oh come on Jordan, aren’t you even a LITTLE curious? I felt bad because its true, my sister is a hottie and I always wished that she wasn’t my sister. I’ve even gone as far as to fap to thoughts of doing her. She then said “For tonight, let’s not be brother and sister. I really need this because I feel like shit right now and our parents won’t be back till late and we aren’t going to tell anyone.

I pretty much just fucked my sister. No, to be more honest, I just lost my virginity to my sister.

***

I’m not sure if this comment by K qualifies as a score for her:

Surprised there is no question on here about what (if any) STDs you have. Were I not an atheist, I would thank god everyday that I have herpes. It works like a charm to scare off assholes like you.

***

Vladimir rakes the diamond industry over the coals (heh), and by extension strips bare the crass status craving and materialistic impulses of most women:

aliasclio: Waste of a good diamond, ch. Part of the point of engagement rings is that they’re beautiful, even if useless.

I strongly disagree. Diamonds are a vulgar and grossly overvalued product, lacking all the unique properties and charms of truly precious substances like gold. I can’t help but admire the idea of this ring with an inward-turned diamond. It’s a creative way to subvert a ridiculous custom.

For start, the diamond engagement ring is not an ancient custom at all. It’s the result of a successful marketing ploy by the global diamond near-monopoly De Beers from two generations ago — a completely fake and manufactured tradition. There’s a plausible theory why the marketing campaign worked so well: around that time, courts stopped awarding damages for breach of promise to marry. (Such lawsuits were based on the assumption, back then certainly true, that if a girl lost her virginity and got dumped, her marriage prospects were greatly damaged.) Thus, women started demanding expensive gifts as bonds from their fiances before giving them sex, and De Beers filled that demand perfectly with their diamonds:

http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~siow/332/rings.pdf

http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~siow/332/rings.pdf

Moreover, diamonds are not a truly rare and scarce substance like gold, which is impossible to manufacture except for the tiny quantities mined. Diamond is just an allotropic form of carbon, and it can be industrially synthesized from ordinary carbon (i.e. coal or graphite) in a form indistinguishable from the “real” mined ones. The synthetic diamond industry is churning out ever larger stones at an ever lower cost. De Beers is of course fighting like hell against this technology, and they’ve even successfully lobbied for regulations thatsynthetic diamonds must be physically branded as such. However, I’d still bet that the technology will continue advancing, and in a not so far future, diamonds will be just cheap trinkets, unless I’m underestimating both the skill of De Beers’s marketing and human stupidity.

Thus, diamonds are definitely not a reliable store of long-term value (this not even considering that many people pay the entire value of the thing all over again in insurance). And even regardless of that, while e.g. gold really has a unique and mysterious charm, a diamond is just a piece of coal that’s been held under high pressure for a while, and machines are available that will actually do that.  The damned things aren’t even particularly durable — they are fairly easy to shatter, and they’ll burn at roughly 700C. If your house burns down, your gold will still be there, even if melted, but the diamonds will all vanish into carbon dioxide.

Of course, all this is not even considering the unfairness of the custom and the fact that it brings out all the worst irrational bragging urges in women. Unless he’s rich, a man who wanted to spend thousands of dollars on a useless whim just to brag in front of his friends would be condemned as an irresponsible spendthrift, yet women consider this as their inalienable privilege. That this frivolity is expressed through such a vulgar medium only makes it worse.

***

Ren is a good example of the haters who took my dating market value tests, was disgusted with it, yet couldn’t help but calculate a score:

This is fairly biased. Really. Shitheads and Wifebeaters score the best? Ahahahahahaahaa. Someone must like it rough.

+6 here.

***

PA gives good advice to men who have it in their heads to do the married with children thing (or forgot to wear the condom one night):

That’s quite true, and solid LTR game takes this heavily into account. Prior to having a kid, marriage is little different from having a girlfrined. But childbirth can change everything.

Notice I said that childbirth “can change everything,” not “changes everything.” It is a woman’s instinct to convert the husband into a nest drone. Don’t fault her for it; it’s a natural thing she is unconcious of, like shit testing. And I saw this happened to a buddy whose wife made him into a complete slave.

A few couples visited us a several weeks ago, and when evening came and I gleefully pulled out my top-shelf vodka and my custom shot glasses, she said: “[husband’s name] does not feel like drinking tonight; he now has a baby he’s responsible for.”

I looked at him questioningly, and he looked away from me, forlorn. Two other dudes and I had fun without him.

But it’s not difficult to avoid the fate of a nest-drone, provided your wife has had loving feelings for you up to then. Some tips:

– do play a lot with the baby on your down time. Ideally you should <i> want </i> to do it; it’s your kid and your attitude should normally be that he or she is the most precious human being in the world.

– assume traditional gender roles. Don’t change poopy diapers. Men have a natural, violent revulsion to poop, mothers don’t; she pushes the stroller, etc. Again, ideally, this shouldn’t be a negotiated or fought-over; a good mother and wife will want to do the feminine things for her baby.

– With regards to the above, don’t swing in the opposite direction and neglect your responsibilities. Do help out and be involved. Remember that as a captain of this ship, you are ultimately responsible for its success.

– Cultivate an understanding that a child will grow up psychologically healthy when he or she sees the mom respect the dad.

– Remember, you are still the head of the family. You are the captain, your wife is the competent NCO. You are the commanding officer, she is in charge of the day-to-day things.

– Let there be an understanding, that in the big scheme of things, you and your wife are still each others’ first responsibility. The child will fly away one day, and you will still have one another.

– Having a child is really the greatest responsibility you can have. And the biggest joy that life can give you, if you forgive the sappy language. Thus, it’s up to you to step up. At the very least, you need to maintain your alphatude in marriage.

***

Basil Ransom pithily explains why girl sluts are worse than guy sluts:

Girl: Why is a girl a slut if she hooks up with multiple guys?

Guy: Think of it like a lock & key. A key that can open a lot of locks is a master key. A lock that can be opened by multiple keys is a weak lock.

***

Mopenhauer attempts a distillation of history as seen through the heavy-paned windows of the Chateau:

This is where CH’s history of the world begins. According to his version of history Western Christian feudalism was best able to repress the sexuality of the alpha male and his female customers.  Unlike the Muslims or Orientals there were no harems of females for Alpha males. Instead there was a forced monogamy imposed on both females and alpha males. The triumph of the beta male and his K strategy of investing in offspring lead to the hegemony of the West. This is similar to Freud’s thesis that civilizations progress was based on the Superego’s ability to harness and control the Id. Those disenfranchised elements of Western society were slowly integrated into the “reverse dominance hierarchy”. The last step was the integration of females and then the beta utopia, the Ayn Randist dystopia. But according to CH that was the Pandora box that unleashed the repressed Id of the alpha male and females. And so like a Phoenix, the grey-back Gorilla was reborn from the ashes.

Feminism in its essence a liberal-capitalist revolution. Like the English, Dutch, American, French, 1848, revolutions it is about establishing market contractual relations, where tradition and domination had once ruled. Now all those revolutions have been blurred to the extent that some people consider them anti-liberal democratic. And it is true in all those revolutions radicals, Levelers, Seadogs, Whiskey Rebellions, and Jacobins emerged that wanted to take the revolution beyond the liberal market. This is the role that the Radical Feminists of Catherine McKinnon and Andrea Dworkin played in the feminist revolution. The feminist porn wars was their Whiskey Rebellion against the liberals. The libertarian feminists grew worried about the monster they had unleashed and were willing to join forces with Hugh Hefner against the more dangerous threat to their left. To use Murray Rothbard’s left-right spectrum from Prospects for Liberty. The libertarian sex positive feminists were the
REAL left. They were the ones who opposed the traditional patriarchal structure of the Right. In Rothbard’s terms the radical feminists who are conventionally considered extreme left, would actually be a confused centrist middle of the road position, that attempted to accomplish liberal ends using conservative ends. They themselves recognized it to the extent that they allied themselves with the Religious Right in the Porn Wars.

With the defeat of the Radicals in the Porn Wars, the libertine capitalist free-market was established in sexual relations. According to CH this has benefited Alpha males the most. There is a tacit libertarian feminist/ alpha male alliance against BOTH beta males AND the possible revived corpse of radical feminism.

Minus a couple of quibbles, this is a pretty good stab at a philosophical strain of CHianism. Feminism is, in essence, an alliance of convenience between women and alpha males. Women get to play the field longer and more hypergamously, and alpha males get access to more free premarital pussy. (Not that I’m complaining!) Beta males get the short end of the stick. Arguably, beta females also suffer a degradation in their market value — while pump and dumps with men normally out of their league temporarily validate their egos and inflate their self-worth, their psyches eventually wither under the continual churn of their pussies riding the cock carousel, an amusement ride which never slows down to give them the love most women deeply crave. So beta females suffer a double hit: once, to their feminine integrity, and again to their value on the open market where sluts are justifiably less valued as long term partners by men.

***

Greatbooksformen (the lolz dude) offers as good an explanation as any I’ve heard for why women are prone to exaggerate their looks:

lozzllzlzlzlzlzl!

most 3s think they are 9s because now and then an alpha gets drunk and bored and bangs the shit out of them lzozllzlzlzlzlzlzl

she sounds like a 2 who got banged by 7 drunk alphas so she reasons that 2 + 7 = 9.

***

And finally, the Comment Winner of the Month is Gotzon, who sums up the mechanics of male-female relations as succinctly as possible:

My mom proposed to my dad. My dad never changed a diaper.

What feminists will never understand is that Gotzon’s mom is likely a very happy and satisfied woman.

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The Ultimate Shit Test: Marriage

Reader “T.A.” sent me the following email:

******

I’ll be brief – I’m a fan. Game has made my marriage palatable, and I thank you and the rest of the community for that. However, I wanted to submit a sort of “public service announcement” to the community. Hopefully so men everywhere can avoid the mistake I made. Do with this what you wish, but hopefully you’ll post it:

————————————————————————————————————————
I’m like alot of men – probably safe to say “most” men. I’m 35. I’m a handsome fellow. I’m reasonably successful. I’m fit – probably more fit than I should be at my age – due to years of pent up frustration released on various pieces of innocent gym equipment and “recreational” 5Ks. You would probably look at me if you passed me and my family on the street and think I’ve got my shit together. I’ve got a pretty, fit wife who wears stylish clothes, and I’ve got two gorgeous sons.

You’d probably think that I’m a happy man – or at least that I SHOULD be a happy man. You’d be wrong.

I’ve spent countless hours thinking about the uninspired, passionless albatross of a marriage that constantly tugs at my neck. Countless hours thinking about how incredible it would be to actually get to use my dick more than a couple of times a year. Countless hours spent lamenting my shitty marriage with my equally miserable married buddies. I’ve thought about divorce a dozen times, but social pressures and family expectations have always held me back (“grow up – sex isn’t that important!” “but you’ve got such a lovely family!” etc.). I lived in a constant state of crisis for years until one day an old friend of mine introduced me to the CHsphere.

I’ve DEVOURED all manner of PUA/MRA/CHganda with the appetite of a starved child. And I’ve come to some startling conclusions.

I won’t waste too much of your time with my personal story (trust me, it is completely interchangeable with any one of millions of men’s in this country). But I have come away with one priceless gem that I believe all men MUST be made aware of. It’s as common as a McMansion in an outlying suburb, yet its as powerful and menacing a beast as any you’ll ever encounter:

BEWARE the classic gun-to-the-head marriage pressure administered by your typical non-descript, rudderless late 20’s/early 30’s woman.

When a woman pressures you mercilessly to marry her, bullying to the point of threatening a break up – this is the shit test of ALL shit tests. Treat it as such – If you fail this shit test, you are RUINED. FOR…LIFE..

For those of you who haven’t lived through it, let me go through the script:

You’ll meet a girl. She’ll seem perfect in a lot of ways. Not only will you get to hang out with your friends whenever you want, go out to bars with your buds, etc. but she’ll encourage it. And she’ll have her own life and she’ll go out with her friends. She’ll be game for the booty call, and she’ll do filthy things in your bed (and out of your bed). She’ll fuck in public bathrooms, she’ll fuck you and blow you in cars. She’ll bend over willingly and she might even swallow. Nothing will be off limits, sexually, and she’ll wake up your neighbors proclaiming how much she loves to get fucked by you.

She’ll watch football with you, maybe even become a fan of your team. She’ll watch movies with you that you know she hates, and she’ll do it with minimal whining. She’ll cook you special meals, pick up random gifts, and generally be a perfect girlfriend. You can leave her to pay the check, shrug at her requests for attention and affection, blow off her birthday, and generally just live a normal bachelor life but with the added benefit of having a consistent and exciting lay.

Then one day it will all come to a screeching halt.

I’m not quite sure what causes it – I suspect its a “special” night out with her yenta friends. A night spent drinking and dreaming about designer wedding dresses, champagne flutes, Pottery Barn registries, and giant rocks. Whatever the case, sooner or later they end up muttering to each other how unbelievable it is that their boyfriend hasn’t popped the question and made the self-absorbed dream that they’ve held dear since they were a little girl into an expensive and soul-sucking reality. They might even become hostile – proclaiming what a “waste of time” it is to date this horrible creature who is so selfish that he’s denying them a $50k masturbatory spectacle that benefits no one but them, and a subsequent life of enslavement and misery. Things will get desperate, and you’ll start seeing the signs.

There will be inexplicable weeping at inopportune times. Cold shoulders for no apparent reason. Sex will dry…up. Blow jobs will be something you only see in pornos. Hints at marriage will drop like snowflakes at first – then like a barrage of hail. Any resistance to the wedding yap will incite riots of rage and tears, and screams of “if you loved me you’d want to marry me!!” and “why am I wasting my time with you?!!”

This is the beginning of the end, my friend. And you should fucking RUN…LIKE…HELL!

You see, there is no winning this fight. I know – I tried. But there is no victory – and there sure as shit are no spoils. I know what you’ll be thinking: “I don’t really want to break up yet – maybe its time to settle down?” and “surely the sex will resume once we get over this hump and get married?” You’ll start wistfully looking at little kids on the street, thinking “maybe I’d make a cool dad?” and “I’m not gittin any younger – maybe this is for the best.” You’ll fall prey to the oldest trick in the book – thinking that things will get “better” if you just cave to this, the queen of all shit tests.

Listen to me – things will not get better. I didn’t really understand at first, but after becoming part of this community, I understand it all perfectly now. Things will not only NOT get better, but they will get much, MUCH worse. EXPONENTIALLY WORSE. To degrees that you cannot imagine. Think that you’ll start having sex again after buying that ridiculous fucking rock? Dream on – it gets WORSE. You’ll be lucky to get laid on your birthday from now on. And when you do get laid it will SUCK. The term “doggystyle” will be like a fucking cuss word in your house. Anything cool and interesting that ever happened in your bedroom will be a long lost memory.

Think your girl will relish her role as wife and cook you up a nice meal from time to time? Fuck that – get used to picking up fast food and frozen dinners. That is, unless you like to cook yourself or take it upon yourself to maintain a healthy diet – in this case, welcome to the role of homemaker, you beta pussy. And you better not have the audacity to leave it up to the Mrs. to plan/cook a meal. You’re on the hook now.

Oh and you’ve still got all of the “man duties” too, didn’t you know? Make sure the oil in BOTH cars is changed, make sure all of the tires are inflated. Want to sit on the couch and watch the game? Fuck you! Cut the grass. And pay the bills when you’re done. Mama needs to go shopping with the girls. Because hey, maybe if she buys herself something nice from time to time (and by “from time to time” I mean “increasingly” until she’s buying EXPENSIVE shit every other day) she’ll be happy again and you guys can get to fuckin again, right?

Wrong. Its over dude. You’re on a sharp, downward beta-slide that will just make her more and more revolted by the day. It was over before you started.

See, if you fail this shit test, you have failed every…single CH tenet in one fell swoop. Worse, your girl is going to have a front row seat to this total and complete collapse of your manhood. She’s gonna watch it in what seems like slow motion – like witnessing the carnage of some kind of disgusting ten car pileup where gas and steel and body parts are spewed out in a violent ballet of carnage. And make no mistake – she will be sickened. She will have to hold back the vomit upon witnessing your more-beta-than-beta act of total surrender. And your dick will be as appealing to her as a fresh turd. You will be completely and permanently doomed from that day forward, and your sex appeal will hit negative digits.

It has a sad sort of snowball effect – you’ll think that the more sensitive, caring and compassionate you become, the more she’ll reward you. But all it does is make you more beta – more repellent. She’ll hate you more by the day, and she’ll mask it less and less.

Whatever you do with your life, to whatever degree you practice game, if you remember one single thing from any of these blogs, remember this – you MUST pass the Marry-Me-Or-Else shit test. Your future depends on it. Its basically like someone holding open the door to a prison cell and cheerfully inviting you in. There’s no earthly reason for you to EVER step into that cell, and ultimately they will HATE you for getting in that cell. Not only that, but they’ll lift up their skirts and get fucked by some bad boy outside that cell – right where you can watch but are powerless to intervene. Its a cruel, beta joke and they know it. Turn it back on them – just say “NO.” The world needs another yenta wife like it needs another stinking landfill.

******

I’ve had a few instances where the girl I was dating began pressuring me for marriage. What did I do? I walked. And I will probably walk again. If a lover told me “marry me or else” I would choose “else”. I would inform her that I don’t heed ultimatums, for that road leads to soul death.

Only weak betas cave at the first hint of pressure. Fear motivates their decisions. The fear of being alone, the fear of going sexless. This fear is mostly a phantom. Remember, gentlemen, no matter how badly the dating market skews against your interests, no matter how much your woman withholds sex, no matter how deviously she threatens to leave you if she doesn’t get the ring, you hold the trump card, the dick detonator, the MOAB in the eternal battle of the sexes — you can walk away, forever.

Exercise your right to walk.

Once you’ve walked you might be surprised to see her come running back to you, suitably chastened.

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The Most Beta Comment Ever Left On This Blog

On my post about lying for sex, “notaloser” recently left this comment:

I would NEVER lie to a woman in any way to get sex. NEVER. I respect women and know that lying to them impedes their ability to make good decisions for themselves. Nobody ever has the right to take that autonomy away from anyone under any circumstances … the very idea of lying to a woman to fraudulently get sex is appalingly misogynist. Lying  to a woman to get sex is very emotionally/sexually abusive to women and has lasting effects … ask any women.  Your desperation is hardly an excuse to proceed with what constitutes sexual misconduct. You have a lot of problems, dude, and this lack of awareness is probably why women don’t want to sleep with you in the first place.

Do you hear that? NEVER!

“notaloser” is a classic white knight of the particularly noxious variety — besides the hypocritical nature of his misplaced chivalry (it’s a lie to assert you will NEVER lie to a woman), his pious posturing perches poon on pedestals so prominently that no woman would ever be able to see him as anything other than a bootlicking servile sap. His is the sort of blushing indignation that, if freely and sincerely expressed and acted upon, would absolutely kill his chances with any girl except fat desperate closeted dykes.

Lying to girls for sex is perfectly fine, because it is not the man’s job to simultaneously seduce women and help them make good mating decisions. Women are responsible for screening their prospects; it’s called personal accountability. Only feminist men who believe women are emotionally underdeveloped children think like notaloser and want to protect women from men’s libidos.

In some ways, lying for sex is win-win for men. If it works, he gets sex, and if his lie is eventually discovered, she will be likely to forgive it if she has fallen in love with him. If it fails, and she finds out that, for example, his real job is less prestigious than the job he claimed to have, and she leaves him because of that, then he has successfully screened out a whore who views him primarily as status candy.

I don’t recommend lying on practical grounds, but as a moral matter it’s a dead end. Men and women lie all the time to get the best deal they can on the sexual market. To illustrate the absurdity of believing otherwise, I’ll re-word notaloser’s comment:

I would NEVER lie to a man in any way to get love. NEVER. I respect men and know that lying to them by wearing make-up, getting nose jobs, or playing coy about my age or desire to marry a man who makes more money than me impedes their ability to make good decisions for themselves. Nobody ever has the right to take that autonomy away from anyone under any circumstances … the very idea of lying to a man to fraudulently get love is appalingly misandrist. Lying  to a man to get love is very emotionally/financially abusive to men and has lasting effects … ask any men who wake up next to a disturbing morning face.  Your commitment desperation is hardly an excuse to proceed with what constitutes emotional misconduct.

“notaloser” is probably a woman pretending to be a man who has been hurt by an asshole boyfriend in the past, because no man, no matter how much he claims to believe in the feminist agenda, could possibly write such a beta comment with a straight face. “Fraudulently get sex”? “Sexual misconduct”? A man would have to be psychologically castrated and/or flamingly gay to make such blubberingly pussboy assertions. I suspect it’s a biting beaver sock puppet.

Note: Many of you are wondering why David Alexander did not get recognition for the most beta comment ever left on this blog. This is because DA does not write beta comments; he writes trollish freakboy omega comments. That is a different world of loser altogether.

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Programming Notes

– July 2009 was the biggest month here at Chateau Heartiste. There were 473,908 views of exquisitely beautiful O chained to an iron pillar with her ballroom gown hiked up, getting whipped on her blushing naked buttocks with a riding crop by a masked man. O savored every lashing.

– Recently the blog passed 100,000 comments. 99,999 of those comments were cringeworthy online flirtations leading to blue balls. The 100,000th comment was left by Firepower, responding to Gunslinger, in my ‘What Is A Natural?’ post:

Gunslingergregi

Whiskey bro you need to start carrying around a severed head

dewd – quit stealing
all my moves

Yes, I know. Don’t all gasp with astonishment at the profundity of comment #100,000. It is auspicious in ways your feeble beta brains cannot begin to comprehend.

– I was going to write a separate post announcing the winners of the ‘Test Of Your Negs’ post, but after skimming through the comments I got depressed. The answers most of you gave were horrible. You’d have been better off asking them where they went to school. Hint: Calling a girl fat, or implying she’s fat, is not a neg. Despite the hundreds of shitty attempts, I managed to find a few gems.

Tyler:

Taking pictures for girls is always an easy way to jump into conversation. This is one way I might handle this situation (Let’s assume the girl to the right is the target):

girls: Hey, can you take a picture of us?
me: yea sure…(take the camera) Okay, on the count of 5!

Count off until 5, take a picture….but completely cut out the girl in the yellow. Hand the camera back as you normally would, and they will check the picture as always.

If I were to “defuse this d-bag” it would just be out of the kindness of my heart. I don’t think it would be necessary, but I’d probably just say something for the sake of conversation. “so how did you end up getting dragged out with all of these girls?” then he’d tell me they either all went to school together, or that he is meeting the girl in the red for the first time off of a craigslist ad, but she doesn’t seem that interested…so I could gain a little knowledge about the group.

girl in yellow: “Hey, you cut me out of the picture!”
me: “what? yea I know…I didn’t think you wanted to be in it…” (strait faced)
girl in yellow: ??? (she is confused)
me: “I just assumed that since you didn’t do you hair or anything that you didn’t want to be in the picture ” (now you can start smiling at her)

me: “If a girl can pull it off…I usually prefer a girl with messy hair anyways”

You can keep her wondering if you have the opinion that she can pull it off or not…she will probably ask…just smile, don’t answer and have her buy you a drink.

Actually, just cutting the girl out of the photo is enough of a neg right there. I’d hand it back and “Oh, how about that. You got cut out.”

Roosh:

To the guy: “Hey man you can’t let these aggressive girls squeeze you out of the photo like that.”

To the girls: “Couldn’t you guys make a little more space for your guy friend here? He looks all sad and lonely and shit. Like someone just told him his little kitten died.”

Guy is done. Will be even better if he says something like “But uhhh I don’t have a kitten.”

I would go for the girl on the far right. She doesn’t seem to need a neg but if it was necessary: “Very cool necklace where did you get it from? I saw some many like it being sold in this market for 3,000 pesos. That comes out to a dollar fifty in american money. Cool though, anyway.”

If she likes my vibe she’ll ask “which market” and then it’s clear sailing until I get cockblocked by the asian.

Chuck:

i’d go after the asian chick:

“oh, sorry, let’s take another, your eyes were closed”

This is NOT a good neg. However, it is very funny.

lurker:

“It’s so nice to meet some girls who don’t feel the need to dress up to go out and have fun.”

So close. Take the edge off it a bit with this rewording: “It’s so cool to meet girls who are confident enough to go out without getting overdressed.”

Cannon’s Canon:

Being asked to take a group photo is like winning a free set. First, I turn the camera and take a photo of myself. Then, I ask the group what emotion they are going for. I’ve drawn this out into a whole photo shoot routine, where I suggested contrasting emotions to do some push-pull and described some scenarios to do a little role-playing.

This is more of a routine than a neg. If you have a fertile imagination you can really run with this idea.

el chief:

My target for sex would be the brunette on the left. Blondie has nice tits, but I think the one in red is prettier.

I’d neg the group as a whole by accusing them of being bridge and tunnel crew. In Vancouver, there is a shitty white trash suburb called Maple Ridge (”Maple Ditch”), and I’d ask them how they’re going to get home there if they’re drinking all night.

Blondie gets negged for being too rosy cheeked. I’d ask her if she’s part Asian (they get red when they drink), and accuse her of being a lush.

Asian girl gets accused of being a banana (yellow on the outside but white on the inside), for hanging with “gwai-los” (white ppl). I would ask her if she’s blondie’s half sister.

I’d ask Mexican girl if she rode her bike to the bar [cuz she looks like a hippie]

Red shirt, I would neg her by ignoring her for a while, and chatting up everyone else. Later, I would compliment her on her sweater, and how my boss has the exact same one. That’s JC Penney right?

I would not attack dude right away. Try to make friends with him, and get his ok to be in the group. Then, slowly grind him down. Question him on why he’s out with these girls when they obviously don’t want to bang him. Goad him into hitting on other girls in the bar.

In the future, I’m just going to hand over the comments section for all game related posts to Roosh and el chief.

Also, to the commenter who ranked the girls in the picture as 1s, 0s and 4s, you are a raving basement nerd who would probably jizz in his pants if one of those girls talked to you. If those girls are 1s, then 99% of the world’s women are 1s. Get a grip.

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