A Reader’s Field Report

A reader (name withheld) sent me a field report of his experience with a girl who continued playing the field while dating him.

Women love to think they are one of a kind, not predictable, and far too complex for labels. Well they are predictable. In fact this makes a great neg.

I believe men put greater weight in someone’s words than women.  It is a sign of character and respect for a man to look someone in the eyes, shake hands and hold to his word.  I have never observed a woman bragging about keeping her word or standing on the principle of something she has said. Women are wordsmiths. This of course is an Achilles heel when dealing with women. Strip away the words though and the message is surprisingly clear.

Case in point, my last fling.  Part of her ‘routine’ is a sweet country girl with old fashioned morals. *Snark*  I met her buying her furniture.  She was selling everything she owned to move in with her boyfriend 5 states away. A little teasing, a few texts and a phone call got her to meet for a glass of wine. Two dates later the move was off and I was on.

Her relationship history was an instant red flag but she was a little hottie. She had her game down and knew what spin to feed guys. She walked the walk too, at least for the first month or so. I ended up making a few notes to keep my head straight.  This ended up turning into a relatively sophisticated relationship analysis tool. I paced the relationship, graded along several lines,  listed red flags and kept an ongoing synopsis and commentary on her. Most importantly I only considered her actions.

At times I would open my file on her and not really like what I saw.  This usually happened after a good F* . But I’d reread all the supporting details and I was back on Earth, eyes open.  I suspected she had Low Self Esteem and I have been down this road. Little details solidified this after only a few weeks.  I knew it wouldn’t last.

Sure enough a couple of S* Tests surfaced.  I suspected they involved affirmation from other eligible guys. After icing her for a couple of days, she wanted to meet and “talk”, mid-day.  I preempted her little talk with the precious words “I think we are thinking the same thing”. This totally rattled her. Guys don’t break up with her!  I  told her I could tell she wasn’t taking herself off the market yet expected me to. This was the story  my “analysis” told me.  Of course I was completely way off base, nothing of the sort was true, how dare I have her figured out! hmmff.

Sure enough it later came out she did have a date with some guy the same week as the [shit test].  Years ago I would have been blindsided and confused. I doubt I would have put it all together beforehand. I probably would have given credit to her improvised rationalizations when the reality was a plain as the C stains on last weeks sheets.  I didn’t do everything perfect.  I went off on her when she revealed what she was up to. I should have just snickered and ask her for her Truffle recipe.  But I did see it coming. I was bummed for about 6 hrs till I went to sleep. It was fun while it lasted. The next morning  though I had a perma-grin knowing I pegged her in more ways than one.

Message to my brothers: Understand you’ll probably flounder in the emotional soup that pervades female cognition. You likely give too much weight to her words so turn them off.  Her actions say it all.  Hone in on them and you may even be able to predict her next slutty thought.

PS. Wish I’d have read your Ex-girlfriend how-to.  I would love to have set the table for a rebound.

I like the idea of keeping a mental checklist of a woman’s red flags. In fact, I would go one step further and jot down in a small notebook all the red flags as they appear. This serves two purposes. One, as the reader above wrote, it keeps your head on straight and out of the clouds. Continual reminders of women’s bestial natures is the raw alchemical agent for long-lasting, healthy relationships, should you choose to go that route. Obviously, red flag number one was her decision to dump a man she was about to move in with for a man she met in a furniture store.

Two, keeping a red flag journal (RFJ) will illuminate with crystal clarity where you need to make adjustments on the fly to keep the sex coming, or where you went wrong if the relationship ended in a breakup. It’s a truism that jotting thoughts down in writing will have much more impact on your thinking processes and subsequent actions than storing those observations in your memory bank. A red flag journal will give a man tremendous leverage in any dating scenario, as it will strip away any beta rationalizations he may be tempted to wallow in, and it will also serve as a learning tool for future girls. Because as we all know by now, most women are pretty much alike in their natures, save for the adorable embroidery.

“I think we are thinking the same thing.” I liked this response from the reader as a preemptive action, but he would have been better off following up without mentioning that he knows she’s not taking herself off the market. That is a subtle demonstration of lower value on his part. He is tacitly implying that he’s not good enough to keep her off the market. Instead, he should have simply accused her of wanting to keep *him* off the market. That would have been adequate to cause her to veer wildly off her breakup script and into a defensive crouch where gina tingles are born.

Anyone else notice how girls will attempt to schedule breakup talks at midday? Well, at least those girls who aren’t breaking up through email or the silent treatment. (A majority of women, for reasons probably having to do with the female proclivity for that most milquetoasty of values known as “closure”, prefer to do their breaking up face to face.) If a girl ever says she wants to meet for a “talk” at a midday hour, my advice to you: Don’t respond at all. Don’t give her the satisfaction. A non-response also paves the way for continued sex as her breakup initiation sequence will be forced on indefinite hold. As I’ve written before, it’s all about hand. He/she who holds hand, dictates the direction and pacing of the relationship. And we’d all rather be the dictators than the dictated.

If there’s one lesson men should take from my blog, it’s this: Scrutinize what she does, not what she says. This one lesson, above all others, will never fail you. It will serve you well until your last days. As far as generalizations go, this one is about as rock solid as an established scientific theory. An amusing irony of life is that, despite women being blessed with a generally greater verbal faciliity than men, their words falling from their lips are gossamer lightweight and amorphously empty, devoid of intention and brimming with obfuscation and misdirection. Refuse to dance on her spinner’s web and the power is all yours. And chicks dig power.

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The Dark Lord

Damian called me for some advice.

Damian: So Mirabelle* [ed: no real names used] cancelled for Friday and said something came up, but she’d be OK with getting together on Sunday. Another girl playing hard to get. Any sage advice Senor StuffAMuff?

Me: You’ve been on one date and you’re already scheduling a weekend night? And she’s younger than you. And cute. She’s got prospects. You’re not going to get anywhere playing Don Juan whispering sweet nothings and amping up the romantic vibe. She’s only got a toe in the water. My advice… Like a fighter jet in a dive, pull back! Don’t try to impress her with your unstoppable silverback pursuit. You’ve gotta play the game my friend. With the especially valuable girls (young, pretty) it’s not enough to refrain from being beta; you must also fill the void with alpha. Breach the touch zone early, then stop touching her for a while. Be unpredictable in your unspoken, and spoken, intentions. Tease her more about “having to wine and dine you first” and how you like to take it slow because you’ve been burned before by girls who wound up having boring personalities. Put her on defense. Your goal is to have her working to impress you, not the other way around.

Damian: Excellent advice, a healthy reminder! Hold on, someone just texted me. [Damian checks his text message while I wait on the line] Whoa, Shana texted me. She wants me to come all the way out to [location X] to meet her and a couple of friends for drinks. More advice Poonmaster Prince!

Me: Isn’t she the sexually repressed woman who might be a virgin? The woman you haven’t banged yet? Let’s break this down. It’s 1 degree outside. It’s late. If you drive all the way out there you wil be doing so for a woman whose sweet nectar you have not yet tasted, and whose nectar may not be forthcoming at all. And to top it off, meeting her with friends so she can feel safe and snuggly in her chastity. Safe from your predations.

Damian: Oh, I wasn’t planning to go. She’s nuts if she thinks I jump like that.

Me: You know what? Call her bluff. Send her a text right now, while I’m on the phone. Tell her in plain, unaffected language that you’re not going to drive out there, and that she should come to your place tonight for drinks before it gets too late.

Damian: [Tapping out his text] Sent! Odds of her coming here are low. This doesn’t solve my horniness. I’ll need to acquire more prospects.

Me: True. But there is beauty in the short term solution as well. Send a booty call text to your ex right now.

Damian: Julie? Haha. A bold move! A booty call? That sounds so cheesy. Does that actually work? I haven’t seen her in months. I can’t imagine any woman responding well to a booty call.

Me: This is because you have the imagination of a man. You are incapable of imagining the wicked wiles that will work on women. Recall, you dumped her. This makes the booty call operational. Had she been the dumper, your booty call would be the plaintive wail of a lonely man on the corner. But since you were the dumper, rest assured she has thought of you in her dreams ever since. Send the text. Do it. Now. No punctuation. No excuses. No explanation. Type “Booty call” and nothing else. Trust me, she still has your alpha male number in her phone. Girls keep alpha numbers of asshole lovers long after their expiration.

Damian: [Typing his text while I wait on the phone. He is giggling like a schoolgirl.] I can’t believe I’m doing this! I feel like I’m starring in a rap video. I wonder if she’ll reply?

Me: I give it 70-30 she does.

Damian: Hold on… haha! She replied! Just like that. Five seconds! She wrote back “You’re funny.”

Me: That’s a yes.

Damian: You think so?

Me: Absolutely. In chicksperanto “that’s funny” translates as “I’m seriously thinking about doing this with you, as long as you don’t say anything to fuck up the rationalization hamster currently running in overdrive in my brain.” If she didn’t want to do it, she wouldn’t have replied so quickly, if at all.

Damian: What should I say to that?

Me: Write back “Yeah, I’m a comedian. Come over tonight, drinks are stirred.”

Damian: Good… OK, done.

Me: She may not come over tonight, but you’ve planted the seed for future booty calls. Water and watch it grow.

Damian: She texted again, hold on… She said she wants to hear my voice on the phone. Wow, it’s working.

Me: Godspeed.

Damian: You truly are the Dark Lord.

Me: And you, my mortal avatar.

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What Does It Mean To Be Off The Market?

Maxim #98: Marriage is no escape from the sexual market and the possibility that you may be outbid by a competitor with higher value.

Corollary to Maxim #98: Singleness is no guarantee of full sexual market participation.

Expert level commenter Whiskey left a comment about the Tiger Woods affair on a blog I read (at the moment I can’t recall the blog) in which he stated plainly that each woman with whom Woods had a tryst was one less woman available on the dating market to other men. His point was that twelve (in reality, triple that number) Tiger mistresses (or whores, or skanks, or courtesans, whatever you want to call them the concept is clear) means twelve beta men go without a woman at all. Some of the commenters took Whiskey to task, noting, perhaps not illogically, that a woman living as the sex toy of a billionaire golfer is not necessarily off the market. There are six other days in the week, after all. The typical fuckhole might see Woods once a month, which leaves her plenty of time to date other men.

Comforting thoughts, but I’ll throw my experiences with and observations of these kinds of women in the ring and lend support to Whiskey’s point of view. On a ledger sheet, sure, these provisional paramours have lots of downtime to date other men. But a woman’s emotional contours are hardly amenable to the ledger. Unlike men, most women are averse to boffing multiple concurrent partners. It is simply not in the nature of women to be psychologically equipped to handle with grace and steadiness the crass rutting with Cock A one day and Cock B the very next day. Women don’t operate like that. They see a cock they like, they want to be with that cock, and if they succeed all other cocks recede to invisibility, at least until either their preferred cock leaves for good or they grow weary of that cock.

What I am describing is not a slut apologia. The infamous cock carousel that spins like a possessed Stephen King-ian carnival ride in our major urban centers is open for business. But it’s a turgid carousel of consecutive rides, one women normally jump off of before clambering back on to sit on a new, fresh horsey. They aren’t attempting to straddle all the horsies at once.

Now some women of the craving simultaneous schlong variety do exist. But they are extremely rare. Aside from prostitutes (who medicate their perforating souls with the salve of money, drugs, and complete submission to the pimp), only the foulest sluts and most rapacious sociopaths are constitutionally capable of concurrent cock hopping for pleasure and personal gain. Some of these stone cold sluts were likely positioning themselves in Tiger’s target acquisition periphery, and he clumsily obliged like the stiffly off-putting former beta droid he is. But it is also likely that some of his mistresses genuinely fell for the tingly feelings his power and fame gave them, and they forsook all other men to focus solely on Tiger, even if it meant seeing him just once a month.

So Whiskey’s observation has merit. If a man is alpha and unburdened by moral considerations, he will have mistresses and flings and hotel bar hookups. And in turn, those mistresses and flings will drift off the dating market, de facto if not maritally de jure. When an alpha captures a woman’s heart, even if for only a few times a year, her yearning focuses like a laser beam onto him to the exclusion of more available betas in her midst. She will be happier daydreaming of her unavailable lover than talking in real life with second rate suitors.

Maxim #101: For most women, five minutes of alpha is worth five years of beta.

The Tiger Woods bimbo eruption has clarified the seedy underbelly of the sexual market within which we all operate, no matter how many Hallmark platitudes we recite to the contrary to assuage our pestering fears. People get wrapped up in the salacious gossip and revel in the downfall of a celebrity, but behind the jokes and snark of the gawking masses percolates a silent unease. Women spare fleeting thoughts that the men who love them might trade up to a younger hotter model if offers suddenly emerged. Men hide a slow moving but deep river of envy for any alpha male who makes the news by monopolizing enough women to sexually nourish the IT department of a large corporation.

Yes, in 2009 America, there are men who rule over harems. And there are many more men who are eunuchized by this dirty little reality.

Some of the quotes from Tiger’s flings are a case study in female rationalization.

Jamie Jungers (fling #??):

Jamie, 26, who bears a striking resemblance to Elin, recalled: “Tiger and I went back to the room and just started making out.

“It just went from one thing to the next. We ended up having crazy sex for two hours. I remember him picking me up and putting me against the wall. And that’s when it turned into wild sex. It was really good.

“Later I said to him, ‘I don’t know a whole lot about your marriage situation. I know it is very fresh. I know you just got married. I mean, is it going OK?’ He said, ‘Yes, it’s fine, she’s in Sweden with her family’.”

She’s banging a dude who just got married and she asks if his marriage is going OK. No one is that stupid. She asked because by asking she absolves herself of any guilt or accountability for what she is doing. This is how women think. They are submissive, empty vessels to their core.

Jaimee Grubbs (fling #???):

TIGER Woods was rated as “horrible in bed” by one of his lovers, it was revealed yesterday.

The damning verdict came from cocktail waitress Jaimee Grubbs, who says she had a 31-month fling with the married golf superstar.

One would think 31 months is a long time to fuck a man who is “horrible in bed”, but alphas get a lot of leeway. Or she’s just pissed she was turned in for a flashier upgrade.

The 24-year-old mistress told fellow contestants on US TV reality show Tool Academy she had also “hooked up” with George Clooney.

But while she was full of praise for the movie heartthrob, she mauled Tiger.

Telly pal Krista Grubb, 27, told The Sun: “She was showing all these texts saying they were from Tiger and George.

One she said was from George said, ‘When can I get in there again?’ He signed it G.

“She said she met him while working as a cocktail waitress in Los Angeles and they would meet up in Vegas and he was a lot of fun.

“Jaimee said George was amazing but wasn’t so nice about Tiger. She just kept saying he was horrible in bed.”

Let this be a lesson, men. If you want rave reviews from pump and dumps, live your cad lifestyle without apology. Women not only respect that in a man, they love it.

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A Test Of Your Game

Tonight, you are meeting a woman at a bar. This bar is in DC and it serves the best beer in the city. (It’s not Brickskeller. Those of you who live here will know which bar I’m talking about.)

The woman is someone you’ve been dating for a few months. Expectations have been established. Not firm rules, but slowly congealing guidelines for acceptable behavior. She tells you she will be at this bar tonight with a former co-worker, a man you’ve never met, and she wants you to come out and meet her at the bar. You say “Yeah, I’ll swing by later.” You’re an alpha; everything is always later.

When you arrive at the entrance of the bar you spot your girl across the room, sitting on a barstool between two men. There are no other empty stools near them. They are all laughing and drinking amongst themselves. Your girl is looking good, her bright red lipstick a beacon in the dim bar light. They haven’t noticed you yet. You watch them for a second before proceeding into the room, dispassionately curious about their dynamic. Soon you will walk toward them — the two men flanking your woman whose vagina you have penetrated repeatedly and vigorously — with intentions to introduce yourself. You don’t know which of the men is her former co-worker, or who the other man might be. In fact, you don’t know anything of their synergy, but that you see their smiles and hear their laughter. You begin walking to them.

What do you do?

I want specifics. Don’t patronize this blog’s audience with the obvious. You may think your testicular fortitude unassailable, but few men who read here are so socially awkward that they would believe confronting the men at the bar in a jealous pique is “being alpha”.

Who do you address first? How do you address them? Do you wait for your girl to introduce you or do you thrust your hand in promptly, prodding handshakes? Do you put an arm over your girl’s shoulder? Do you kiss her upon meeting? Or do you keep a few feet of distance between you and her in the interest of avoiding the perception of “boyfriendiness”?

Think details. Go.

PS Some readers have emailed me asking if my “test of your game'” stories are pulled from my own life or made up out of whole cloth. Most of the incidents I describe on this blog are events I have experienced personally. So yes, you are getting real life scenarios to ponder.

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A Test Of Your Game

It’s been a while since I tested my readers’ game skills. Let’s see how you do in the following hypothetical scenario.

You’ve been dating a girl for a few months. Things are going swimmingly. The sex is hot, the time together is easy and carefree, and the affection is genuine. Pat yourself on the back, Lothario, you’ve had win for breakfast.

One pleasant evening you two are sitting at dinner and she drops the name of a male friend she’s known since high school. She’s randomly mentioned this guy before in conversation, and because you were designed by the god of biomechanics to be the most advanced alpha intruder alert system the world has ever seen, the first time she talked about him you had cajoled just enough information out of her to learn that they never slept together and he is just an old friend. Although, as with all women, you couldn’t be sure she wasn’t lying about the sex part, your dirty whore biodetection algorithm made a sweep of her facial expression when she answered your subtly probing questions and you concluded at the time that she was telling the truth.

So here you sit at dinner with her and his name comes up again. And again. She’s complaining about something he did which didn’t involve her, but her complaints are tinged with that peculiar female way of complaining — sprightly and histrionically — when thoughts of the man who has annoyed her have simultaneously tingled her gina. Now she doesn’t bring him up often, but he’s mentioned just often enough that you begin to wonder if she harbors latent feelings of attraction for him. You’ve met the man, and he is a good looking dude with a stoically masculine personality.

You sense — though your evidence is flimsy — that you are at some sort of dating crossroad. You smell an unintentional shit test blowin’ on the breeze. Danger is in the air. Up to now, you have handled her very well. Your alpha cred is intact. Her furrow parts freely and she orgasms wantonly when penetrated by the tumescent expression of your silverback essence. But now, you sit listening to her intently, holding your tongue, pricked by a needle of ambiguity.

What do you do?

Answer carefully. This will go toward your final score.

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Cornered!

I’ve got a very important post up at men’s magazine The Spearhead for my Friday Night Game weekly series. Excerpt:

There are only three things that drain the blood faster from a man’s face than the thought of erectile dysfunction:

1. When your wife serves you divorce papers.
2. When you catch your woman fooling around with another man.
3. When your woman busts you for cheating.

The first two, luckily, haven’t happened to me, but the last one has… multiple times. And from those trials by ovarian fire I have learned a few valuable lessons. I’m here to tell you what to do — or, more precisely, what *not* to do — when your girl jabs the infidelity finger of accusation in your face.

Read about my recommendations for correctly handling a suspicious woman who (justifiably) accuses you of cheating. This is can’t miss information for the man who likes to keep a few on the side.

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Go To Speed Dating Events Where The Women Rotate

Speed dating sucks, but if you’re set on attending speed dating events make sure you know beforehand that the women will be the ones rotating from table to table. Science explains to us why this is so:

The researchers found that the speed daters who approached their partners relative to those who stayed sitting would experience a greater romantic desire and chemistry toward their partners, and were more likely to respond “Yes, I would see this person again” to their partners. In other words, the people who rotated from person to person were less selective than those sitting, regardless of which gender was doing the rotating.

When men rotated, women (the ones sitting) were more selective. But when women did the rotating, men (the ones sitting) were more selective. Nothing else changed in the experiment, so it was the act of doing the approaching (or being approached) that helped determine a person’s selectivity toward their partner.

The researchers go on to tentatively, yet giddily, conclude that “gender norms” and “subtle institutional gender bias”, such as that exhibited at professional speed dating events where the procedure is to always have the men rotate, could account for why reams of past research has shown that women are more selective at dating.

“Although Western civilization has become increasingly egalitarian over the past century, certain social institutions remain gendered, some in subtle, almost invisible, ways. The present research identified powerful consequences of a particularly subtle gender bias: the near-universal tendency to have men rotate and women sit at heterosexual speed-dating events. […]

“Speed-dating scholars have appropriately adopted many procedures from professional speed-dating companies, so it is not surprising that this gendered norm [men rotating] has largely persisted, even for events organized and hosted by scholars. The present results, however, present a cautionary note: Even subtle gender norms can have important consequences for romantic dynamics.

Indeed, when researchers adopt a procedure without controlling for it, they risk missing a component of what they study. In this case, researchers just assumed that since men rotate in real-life, they should do so in speed-dating experiments. This may have skewed the results of past studies that used this speed-dating procedure, especially those that examined women’s “selectivity” — selectivity that may have been a result of the procedure itself, not the women.”

Maxim #81: Whenever you hear or read the words “gender”, “gendered”, “gendered norm”, “subtle gender bias”, or “increasingly egalitarian, yet there remains…” know that you are dealing with a leftwing equalist, blank-slate believing fruitcake who cannot deal with the fact that men and women are biologically different from birth.

So does the study really demonstrate that women are not as selective about dating as was previously believed by all of humanity for the past thousands of years? Eh, ya gotta read the disclaimers:

“What implications do the present findings have for the extensive literature demonstrating that women are more selective than men when choosing mates? On the one hand, this sex difference did not significantly reverse at events where women rotated, so on average there was at least an overall trend in the present data for men to experience greater romantic approach (i.e., to be less selective) than women.”

Answer: No. But thanks for playing!

I’ll explain what is going on here. One, the fruitcup researchers want desperately to cast doubt, however threadbare, on the burgeoning scientific and cultural acceptance of the important role played by biological determinism. They are emotionally invested in inflating and slanting the data to conform to their worldview. Scientists, particularly those in the soft girly sciences, are not immune from emotional bias. This is why I believe the time has come to shove it back in their faces and institute affirmative action and quotas in universities and social science departments to force them to hire academics with a realist bent. Diversity will be their strength, by force of law.

Two, while the reversed rotating speed dating study doesn’t do anything to overturn the extensive research showing that women are the more sexually selective sex, it does highlight an important concept of game that men should be aware of: namely, the principle of perceived higher value. Men who remain seated at speed dating events while the women bounce from man to man are essentially boosting their alpha male status. As any man who’s lived a day knows, when a girl approaches you either directly or indirectly (via a proximity indicator of interest) she will perceive you to have higher status than if she were the one being approached. The facts of your actual status are irrelevant. Perception is reality, so if certain body movements and positionings cause a girl to perceive you have higher status than her, she will be more open to a romantic tryst with you.

The researchers misjudged the rotating speed dating women’s universally shared desire for higher status males as lowered selectivity. The women weren’t being less selective; they were being just as selective as they always are, except now there were more higher status (i.e. seated) males for them to choose from. If anything, this study demonstrates that more men learning game will not result in women adopting stronger selection filters for men with only the tightest game. I have said before that more men running game is analogous to more women with beautiful faces — both will increase the total number of gina tingles and boners, respectively, at least until enough millennia have passed for new evolved preferences to emerge. Game, like beauty, exerts a power over the opposite sex too primal to be denied.

This principle of perceived higher value doesn’t work in the reverse: A woman’s value is almost entirely a function of her looks and the fact that she has a vagina, so there is little a woman can do, outside of makeup and good lighting, to alter a man’s perception of her beauty. Truly desperate ugly girls could slip a vision impairing drug into his drink, maybe a funhouse mirror drug that causes him to think she looks like Katy Perry.

Besides teaching men that they should refuse to get off their seat at speed dating events, this study helps confirm some other valuable body language power moves I’ve written about, like the forearm grab and the importance of keeping your back to the bar. I’d further suggest learning the “finger curl come hither”. Curl your finger and motion for her to come to you; the power dynamic will be all in your favor. As D likes to say, in an affected haughty French accent: “Zay come to ME!”

Women will often test men for their commitment to their repertoire of alpha power moves. How many times have you talked to a girl across a small distance in a loud room and she motioned for you to come closer to her? Beta bait. Alphas never bite; they respond “No, you come here.” Subtle, not so subtle? Douchey? Who cares, the shit works to light up a woman’s loins.

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