How Not To Be An American Woman

When I wrote my perfect woman post, I had Slavic and Caucasus women in mind. Watch this video:

“It has most likely been a light weapon since it’s a minor wound.”

Although the video is grainy, this female reporter looks hot. She has the stunning high relief apple face typical of Slavs that gives me mighty boner. And she has a slender figure that is the norm instead of the exception for non-babushkas in her part of the world.

Ask yourself, how many women do you know who can get shot and continue working in a calm manner without crying or crumpling to the ground helpless? Now… how many HOT women do you know who can do this?

Does this seem like the type of woman who takes Cosmo sex quizzes, who organizes her mammoth shoe collection by hue, who dances on bars, who has had every hole violated and blogs about it, or who gets drunk on margaritas with her aging spinster friends before a marathon night of Sex and the City viewing?

Watch this woman and understand finally why your devalued law degree and non-profit job mean nothing to me.

Not only is she hot and can take a bullet without missing a beat, she probably knows how to cook healthy meals, haul water from the well, and orally please her man. You surmise, correctly, that given her grace under pressure after getting shot she has the strength of character to sacrifice for her children and perform her domestic duties without whining or running to a divorce lawyer at the first sign of her husband not “meeting her needs”. As a man, you will have to be strong for her, very strong, BUT LOOK WHAT YOU GET IN RETURN.

How can the modern American woman possibly compete against this? Answer: She can’t. Which is why cuntastic femicunts are feeling the heat and worked hard behind the scenes and out of the public eye to pass into law the misandrist International Marriage Broker Regulation Act, designed to make it more difficult for an American man to meet a foreign woman with a more feminine and pleasant disposition than the average American woman.

I hope American men are reading this and absorbing the lesson. Flights to East Europe are always available. You know what to do. So… what’s stopping you?

Read Full Post »

Dumping American Women

A fine writer I would want to sit down with for a few stiff drinks in a shady smoke-filled South Asian bar is Fred Reed. His website is blocked by my company’s firewall as hate speech, so you know he can’t be all that bad. He wrote recently about his trip to Bangkok:

—I got here two nights ago, out of Taipei into Bangkok’s new airport, Savannapun. It’s huge, well-designed, classy. As always when I come to these parts I think, “Holy rikshas, Batman, this place is on a roll.” Just so. There is a dynamism in much of Asia that you don’t see in Latin America. Below the Rio Grande you find a couple of modern countries, Argentina and Chile for example—almost the only examples. Yet the whole region seems stagnant, as if it already is what it is going to be. Not here. Asia rocks. Peoria hasn’t noticed but, I promise, it will, and that before long.

Fred, no beta he, has come to the conclusion, like the growing chorus of American men who have spent time overseas, that American women don’t measure up to the international competition.

By night the clubs abound in sleek lovely Thai girls preying on the gringos. Or the other way around: It isn’t always clear. They are so very pretty and make Western women look like camels by comparison—this being the universal view of Caucasian men here. […]

I mentioned Thai women. Despite the sordid reputation arising from the sex industry, Thai women are no looser than any others, and in fact most of them aren’t accessible at all to westerners who don’t speak Thai. To a close approximation, this means no westerners. But the Thai women are, well, ladies. By this I mean not that they went to finishing school, but rather that you can distinguish them from drunken sailors or abandoned mattresses. They are not crass. They dress well. They seem to regard themselves as women, not as wannabe men, and even to think that being a woman is a good thing. Thank god.

This could equally be said of Mexican women of Chinese women, of most women everywhere, except North America.

He, like myself and a lot of my friends who do well with the ladies, wonders if his negative reaction to American women is a personal hang-up.

Now, if I were the only man who took a very dim view of American women, it would be reasonable to dismiss me as a crank. In fact it would be unreasonable not to. It becomes more interesting when the judgement is nearly universal among large numbers of men—and it is.

Everywhere I go outside of the US, the American men I meet speak of their horror of sexless, hostile, ill-bred American women. Sure, there are exceptions and degrees among the gringas. Most unfortunately, exceptions is what they are. The delight with feminine foreign women is given, over and over, as a major reason for expatriation. (The other big reason is disgust with governmental regulation of everything in the US.) I have friends married to Thai, Filipina, Chinese, and Mexican wives, all delighted. Me too.

How did this come about? I don’t know, but I’m not imagining it.

Nope, it’s not us. American women really have changed for the worse. The verdict is in. Pump and dump them and find your wife in another land where women are happy to be women.

Unlike Fred, I have written before about the cultural changes that have transmogrified our women into she-devils. I offered alternatives here. Most men will not travel to other countries to taste the honey-dipped sweetness of what they could have; they will stay comfortably rooted to their miserable lives not realizing how easy it would be for them to step away from American women into a paradise of feminine delights. Most people don’t even leave the small towns they grew up in, let alone their country of birth.

Personally, I have done well with American chicks and not all of them were jaded afeminine ballcutters (some were in fact quite sweet), but seducing and loving them required a level of game and cynicism that would baffle men in other parts of the world. They may very well ask me: “All that for an American camel?”

I suspect if I spent a decent amount of time in the Eastern European country of my choosing learning their language and customs, my superior training dealing with American women would give me a huge leg up attracting foreign girls.

privet!

Read Full Post »

Girls Like Squeezable Things

At the EU Embassy tour in DC last weekend me and another aficionado of European girls culture picked up these very squeezable red balls at the Austrian embassy.
give it a good freudian squeeze ladies.

Despite getting much grief from parties who shall remain anonymous who believe that carrying around touristy crap is a very white people thing to do, I held and caressed my ball all day and never let it out of my sight. I also had a mini flag in my back pocket, and an official looking EU post-it notepad. I felt worldly and it showed in my international-style strut.

Later on, we were at the Reef roof deck enjoying mussels and fries (three random black guys had ordered the same meal. I had no idea mussels were the new hip food) when Roosh put his red ball on the bar. A girl leaned into our group and asked him about the ball.

“Why do you have a ball?”
“Because it’s mine.”
“Can I hold your ball?”
“No, it’s my ball.”

She looked at him with that slack-jawed half-grin that girls get when they’re a little bit offended but they like it. A few more words were exchanged and she left our group. One minute later she leaned back in, reached her arm across the bar, and grabbed his ball. She held it up triumphantly.

“I got it!”
“Give me back my ball. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

She relinquished the ball with a look of sexual attraction on her face. Her male friend apologized for her. Beta.

This got me thinking about props to bring to bars that would help spark flirtatious conversation. Random items that make no sense whatsoever in a bar context and are made of a material that tempts girls to stroke and squeeze them would work best. For instance, I have an Adidas runners pullover with thumbholes in the sleeves that I wear out to clubs which is not the most stylish looking yet I get girls coming up to me to feel the silky Rayon material all the time. Texture can be just as effective as the look of what you wear because girls perceive the world with all their senses equally while guys mostly use their eyes and penis.

Along these lines, I thought of the following knickknacks to carry with me and place on bars while I drink my beer:

pink teddy bear
cotton balls
nerf football
silly putty
bubble-pack
stuffed bunny rabbit
chia pet
silicone implant
pad and pen (not squeezable, but this works!)
silk scarf
play-doh
giant dustball
a rubber hot dog

Any girl who squeezes or strokes right away is likely to be sexually uninhibited, cutting my workload in half.

Read Full Post »

Are European Girls Better Lays?

I usually dismiss arguments like this out of hand because I believe that it’s not the girl that makes the lay but the strength of attraction between the girl and the guy. The more you like each other, the more explosive the sex will be, regardless of country of origin.

But now I wonder if there isn’t some truth to this theory besides anti-American posturing. Thinking back on every sexual interaction I ever had (my memory is sharp in this area) and comparing the experiences with the foreign girls to my compatriots, I arrive at the inescapable conclusion that the foreigners (mostly European, including Russian) were better lays.

Evidence based on general trends:

European – Naturally lubricated. Initial thrust executed without needing to pry apart the labia with my fingers first.

American – Bottle or tube of lube always within reach.

European – Expert at being on top. I felt confident she would not break my dick bone with a false move.

American – Girl on top always had an element of fear. I had to expend wasteful energy grabbing her hips firmly and preventing her from rising up too far off my dick and disengaging, or shifting awkwardly to the side or backwards.

European – Requested anal.

American – Frightened of it. Needed multiple reassurances.

European – Understood that tongue pressure was as important as saliva and making an O shape out of her mouth for enjoyable blowjobs. Often pressed it against the inside of her cheek contributing to visual as well as tactile stimulation.

American – Where did her tongue go? And why is her hand doing most of the work?

European – Met my thrusts with equal fervor, like colliding asteroids of flesh.

American – Received my thrusts passively. Brief moments of minor hip grinding.

European – Threw the sheets off when having sex.

American – Pulled the sheets over us when having sex.

European – Banged as often during the daytime as at night.

American – Day sex was infrequent. At night, didn’t even like a light on in another room.

European – Peed in front of me on the first night together.

American – 3 month waiting period before being allowed to see her sitting on the bowl.

European – Liked to smoke after morning sex.

American – Liked to talk about what we’re “going to do today” after morning sex. (this one’s a wash)

European – Public sex is a rite of passage. Parks, woods, movie theaters, my Mom’s couch.

American – Public sex is doing it with the TV on in the background.

Game, set, match: Euro babes.

European women seem more open and experimental than American women. They are less neurotic and don’t sweat the small stuff. Most importantly, they live in the moment. American women are constantly worried how they look in the wrong lighting, and how the ambiance has to be just right for them to feel comfortable getting naked. When a European girl is post-coital you know her mind is clear and she is giving herself over to the pleasure. An American girl is going through her appointments in her head, wondering if she has enough time in her busy schedule to squeeze in a spa treatment.

***

On a completely unrelated note, I am planning a future extended trip to Poland, Estonia, and possibly Hungary. I expect to meet the barely legal girl of my dreams there. If anyone has advice how to make the most of my time in that part of the world feel free to email me or leave a comment.

Read Full Post »

Marion Cotillard

you have stolen my heart.

on your knees, my love…

Read Full Post »

Best Feeling In The World

It was a late night at a new grimy club in the too-cool-for-school section of DC. I was chatting up an OK-looking chick made cuter by her sexy accent, youth, perfectly round ass, and the strong possibility of pulling a same night lay. But not a girl I’d consider long-term material.

An hour later I made the requisite bounce with her to another nearby dimly lit hipster hole in the wall (venue changes = compressed dates into one night engendering false feeling of intimacy). Couples were going into the bathrooms to do bumps off keys and grope against piss-splattered walls. On the “dance”floor (more like swayfloor) I saw a girl I knew. She was shitfaced and way too happy to see me. My mind started to race. Switch targets? Make the other girl jealous? Attempt threesome?

As I’m ignoring my first girl, my wingman leans in and barks “Focus!”

I focused. Back to the original plan. With renewed purpose, I felt myself entering the zone. The Zone is when you are taking the lead on everything, being the man, enveloping the girl in the musky shroud of your masculinity, and you are not apologizing for any of it. You are a stalking leopard about to pounce. And she is following without hassle and you can see the deep attraction in her eyes. She will put up token resistance, sure, but you’ve been here before… you know it means nothing. It is the resistance of a woman who is secretly happy to surrender to forces beyond her control. The outcome is preordained.

It is the second-best feeling in the world.

The next morning all I could think was how to hustle her off without hurting her feelings. She roused herself from sleep early and, after a blowjob reveille, looked at me with a serious face.

“I’m leaving to go back home to [insert faraway foreign country here] this afternoon.”

Godsend!

“Wow. Wow. Well, that kinda sucks. I’ll walk you to the Metro.”

One more flag added to my flag count, and 90% of them were gotten within five blocks of my place in DC.

Read Full Post »

Reversing A Cold Shoulder

I hit a new club recently with a guy who runs a pickup workshop as a second job.  As soon as we entered I knew I had found paradise — the whole place was filled with East European babes.  I didn’t even need to see their round, high-cheekboned faces and pouty lips up close to know where they were born.  The classy and sophisticated, yet slightly tacky, fashion statements of the women were the tipoff.  Floor-length (real) fur coats and shiny black cocktail dresses were the norm.  The club resonated with the pleasing sounds of thick Russian accents until Gunther turned up the volume on the thumping eurotrash music and my ears began bleeding.

My buddy swooped in on two girls, a 5 and an 8.5, sitting at the bar.  I stood nearby to hear his game.  We had a code worked out so that when I saw that he had “hooked” the set (meaning, made the girls laugh) I would come in and ask if he had “seen Sarah”.  If he wanted me to wing for him he would introduce me to the girls.

As I stood nearby hidden by the crowd, I eavesdropped surreptitiously and learned that the two girls were Bulgarian.  The 8 was extremely cold, turning away to sigh and look at the dancefloor and generally make her displeasure known.  This was expected.  As I’ve written, women from the former Soviet Bloc are cold as ice on the approach and will shit test mercilessly to weed out the lesser men.  They respond well to mild insults, edgy teasing, condescension, and damning with faint praise.

My friend used the classic “Did you see the two girls fighting outside?” opener.  His game is high energy so this opener suits his style.  The hotter chick looked directly at him without cracking even the slightest smile and the following conversation ensued:

Her:  [imagine a heavy slavic accent] That sounds like a bad pickup line.
Him:  What, you don’t trust me?  If you can’t trust me how am I supposed to trust you?
Her:  I heard that line on a show about guys picking up girls.  There was no fight outside.

Now at this point most guys would have bailed, figuring that there was not only zero attraction, but in fact a negative vibe.  He plowed on.

Him:  [turning to the target’s friend]  Is she always like this?  I bet she questions everything you say just to be different.  How do you deal with her?  Let’s show her how to be fun.  [Friend laughs]
Her:  Oh, you are going to show me how to be fun?  That is very presumptuous for a guy who makes up stories.
Him:  Let me tell you what a real bad pickup line sounds like… you know, kind of like the lines you hear all the time from guys like these [motions around the room].  “Where are you from?”  “Can I buy you a drink?”  “What’s your sign?”  “You’re pretty.”  I bet you fall for those all the time.

That’s when it happened; the moment a deep, physical attraction was created.  A smile forced its way on her face and she laughed as her body turned in his direction.  The signs are always unmistakeable.

He then launched into a story about a kid on a tricycle flipping him the bird on Christmas Eve, and the girls were completely hooked.  He would focus his attention on one and the other would lean in and say to her friend “what did he just say?”  Frequently, they would interrupt him (as girls are wont to do since their minds tend to jump erratically from one topic to the next) and he used these breaks in the flow of conversation to say things like “Wow, your eyes are pretty… especially the right one.”

Women who believe game cannot create attraction, but can only amplify attraction that already exists, are wrong.  This guy, who was at least two points lower than the girl in the looks department, started in negative territory and turned it around.  That is because women’s attraction mechanisms are not the same as men’s.  To phrase it as an analogy:

As T&A is to men, personality is to women.

Read Full Post »