Archive for the ‘Game’ Category

You’re on a first date with a girl. During the date, she conspicuously scratches and rubs her nose. Red-faced, she explains that when she’s nervous her nose twitches and itches uncontrollably. You reply:

A. Warm smile: “Aw, don’t worry about it. My nose itches like that when I’m nervous, too.”

B. Sly smirk: “I see that charm school tuition really paid off.”

C. Frown: “Damn, gross.”






The astute reader will note the given replies are representative of the major dating male archetypes: the beta, the charming jerkboy, the asshole. Two of those three you don’t want to be (and one you definitely never want to be). The lesson here is that newbs often confuse jerkboy charisma and assholery as the same thing, when they are very different, in execution if not in substance.

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There are some aspects of Game that qualify more as art than science. Everything is reducible, but the poetic oscillations of life most strongly defy digestible truncation. Seduction has those poetic parts that emotionally resonate but yield little to logical examination that the limbic system hasn’t already deduced.

This came to mind in a recent post about a reader who tried to pique the curiosity of a hindquarter-flaunting attention whore over (I presume) Tinder. I gave him some advice, but in the end he lost her with this line:

i fucked up by asking her “isnt it past your bedtime?”. the broad didnt reply

As I explained to him, I would’ve warned him (if I knew ahead of time) that that line was a tingle stopper. Girls hear that and think “creepy beta trying to keep me up all night talking sex”.

But why, exactly, is that line icky to girls, but a similar line that is CH-approved —

“go to sleep stalker. i’ve gotta get up tmrw”

— is alluring to girls?

We can all feel in our bones how awful that first line is, but what precisely is it in that combination of words in the original iteration that curdles cooch? If chatting with Tinder girls is an art impregnable to deeper scrutiny, how is a man supposed to know what will work and won’t work?

I’m about to ¡SCIENCE! this bitch all up in here. The first line – “isn’t it past your bedtime?” – suffers from two pussy-parching flaws:

  1. It’s a question asked far too early in the interaction (immediate questioning puts the man in the unsexy chaser role, begging for scraps of info from the girl)
  2. The word choice, and the innuendo ejaculating from the sentence, trigger a girl’s anti-slut defense system. She hears “bedtime” and thinks “sexytime”. She also feels the question implies she’s staying up just for him. Nothing wrong with assuming the sale, unless you pull that card too soon and without sufficient confidence in your hand.

The second line – “go to sleep stalker. i’ve gotta get up tmrw” – solves these problems. It’s a statement, not a question. And it avoids ASD-triggering sex words. It also assumes the sale, but less cloyingly; the facetious “stalker” accusation is a false disqualification that makes girls’ hearts race. The second line insinuates that the man is the “chasee”, and that perception influences how she will feel toward him (intrigued), but the insinuation is couched in a cocky jerkboy dismissal rather than a yearning horny inquiry.

On a whiteboard, the two lines aren’t all that substantively different. But in the realm of pickup, seemingly trivial word choices can accelerate, or blow up, a rolling seduction.

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Today I present you with two fairly common types of female shit tests, and then discuss the one guiding concept you should have in mind to help guide you to the best neutralizing, momentum-swapping responses.

The first shit test (and it rightfully qualifies as a legit shit test) is what I call the Snarky Feminist Butthurt by Asshole Boyfriends Past Shit Test. An umbrella term for it is the Dominance or Compliance Shit Test. It takes the form of a feminist poseur, (whom you can tell is just seething with man hatred because some jerkboy throttled her lady thing in 2014 and didn’t call back), who takes out her resentment on random men she meets online with quizzes about their familiarity or obeisance to whatever idle feminist keking point happens to be sloshing through her electric ham. She uses the shit test to exert dominance over the men she has so far failed to control.

Exhibit C(unt):


“Her friends” = her imaginary friends.

Let it be known that every man whom “holly wood” has ever fucked likely had no clue about female authors, had never read a book by a female author, nor any book for that matter. The man she winds up fucking next will likewise have been recused from answering her vapid quiz. In the cock carousel interim, there will be a small army of lickspittle beta males willing to jump through humiliation porn hoops for an A+ grade on her testicle-shredding test.

The feminist poseur shit test has nothing to do with screening for sufficiently craven male feminists; it’s all about virtue signaling — or better, vixen signaling — to her amen chorus of loveless HB5 single bitter girl friends, or to herself to satisfy a too-long un-scratched solipsism itch. Why vixen signaling? It’s a humblebrag. If a girl can slap male suitors upside the scrote with boner-killing feminist demands and still get dates, she’s signaling to other girls her vixen allure is potent enough to surmount her self-imposed handicap.

A response to this shit test that would keep the playing field open (and not automatically and instantly disqualify you from further consideration) is one that conspicuously betrays an insouciant disregard for her terms of debate.

For instance:

“Good Housekeeping”, “Cosmo”, “Story of O”.

You’ve humored her, exhibited wit, and dismissively patronized her all at once. She’ll hate you and love you for it, and that’s a good feeling to put in a girl on whom you have carnal designs.

She’ll probably reply with a version of wow just wow how could you you asshole chauvinist pig it’s the current year haha i bet you think you’re smart. Ignore it. This is license to HOLD YOUR FRAME and add gas to her loinfire. Call her out for being a philistine unable to appreciate good literature.

“cosmo has great style tips. a leader in the field. try reading it, you might learn something”

Inevitably, if you stay true to your amused bastardy frame, she’ll crack and warm to your teasing ministrations.


The second shit test is more properly categorized as “Beta Bait“. It’s very common and it essentially involves a woman ostentatiously showing off her body to get a rise out of any man viewing her photo. The beta bait is her sexy figure, which will invariably incite beta males to praise her beauty, chomping down hard on the chub-swelling chum and thus getting the exit stage left hook.

Exhibit S(lut):


When a girl posts a photo like this online, or sends it across the chat line, you can be sure of two things:

  1. She knows what she’s doing
  2. She loves assholes

Beta Bait is a type of Fitness Shit Test. It’s how a sexy girl separates the beef from the daft; she wants to know if a man has high reproductive fitness, and one effective means to determine that is testing him for a needy reaction that reveals sexual scarcity. If he doesn’t sound needy, she subconsciously registers that to mean he’s a man with limitless sexual options who can take or leave her, and this is very arousing for the typical prime fertility woman.

The worst response to this shit test is the one I mentioned above: drooling appreciation. “Damn girl, you hot” is not just a failure of imagination, it’s also a one-way ticket to incel. This girl EXPECTS men to reflexively pop wood to her tantalizing physical taunt, so the obviously correct response is to do the opposite. Which means, in practice, ignoring her blatant exhibitionism or challenging her self-perceived sexual worth.

For instance:

“don’t do it. u have so much to live for, even if u can’t see it”

What she hears: “Doesn’t this guy notice my perfect ass? Wtf does he mean?” And BOOM there’s that pleasing alpha male ambiguity that supercharges twatbox tingles coast to coast. The “even if u can’t see it” late addition is extra spicy sauce drizzled on the main course, beckoning her to wonder if the good parts of her aren’t her body at all, but some other ineffable quality that doesn’t matter much to her overall SMV, like her judgment in profile photos.

(Another wag offered the reply “jump u faget”. Noted here for its sweet, outcome independent, jerkboy-compliant misspelling.)

She’ll shoot back something empty-headed and indicative of the confusion you’ve sown in her…. haha wtf *smily crying face*… but all you have to do is refrain from backpedaling off your cock-solid frame and you’ll have a live one on the line.

“who took that pic? your mom?”

Exhibitionists can’t have too much Asshole in their lives, so don’t worry about going overboard. Just remember that effective asshole game is also emotionally distant. Think “devil-may-care” instead of “unstable rage-head”.


So what is the one guiding concept to overcome female shit tests? Is it “Agree&Amplify”? No, that’s a tactic; a very powerful tactic that can substitute for Inner Game in a pinch, but still a tactic that doesn’t offer the deep mental state you’ll need to navigate you through the thickets of the fellating market.

The guiding concept is this: SURPRISE WOMEN.

Challenge them.
Thwart them.
Provoke them.
Elude them.
Baffle them.
Deny them.
Disqualify them.
Defy their expectations.

This is how you set yourself apart from the dully bantering, endlessly appeasing mass of mediocre beta supplicants stuck in a courtship mindset that linearly follows a grooved path from desperate need to impress to stepinfetchit apologetics. Everything you want to be is NOT what most men are; namely, predictable polishers of the pussy pedestal.

Ass pic? Question her suicidal tendencies. Feminist quiz? Mock her pretensions.

The kind of men who surprise women are impudent, self-entitled, sexually privileged, ZFG Jercques Cousteau holding girthright citizenship in Vajhalla. And it’s that kind of man, any shrilly claimed protestations to the contrary notwithstanding, with whom women can’t help but fall deeply in love.

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We haven’t talked about negs in a while. A refresher before diving to the chewy center of this post: Negs are backhanded compliments most effectively used on prettier girls as a means of temporarily jarring them from their glowing self-perception and thus raising your relative sexual market status. Negs are, succinctly, jerkboy quips that instantly disabuse women of the notion you might be the typical ass-kissing beta male.

That out of the way, I came across a joke-y chat that happened to reveal a new neg with excellent potential to create bedroom havoc. The man’s replies are on the left.


On any girl under an 8, this neg would be too rough. If you assault a plain jane with it, she’ll be hurt and lash out spitefully or gracelessly exit the conversation. But on a real babe, this is dynamite. It works because the HB8+ knows going in that men think she’s cute. So to be reminded of that – “words can’t describe how cute you are” – just confirms her working presumption that you are a garden variety beta suck-up. Then, as she’s resting in the warm confines of her validated biases and feeling impudent as a result of her rapid vaginal turtling, you crash her comfort zone with the “numbers can tho. 3/10” donkeypunchline.

BOOM, drop the sike. The hottie won’t take it all that personally because a part of her will know, or convince herself to know, that you don’t really mean it. Another part of her will wonder if you do mean it. And in between those uncertainty poles, as nervous internal laughter pacifies her princess id, her vagina will swell with the corpuscular injection of seductive ambiguity.

(If you’re wondering where to go after ‘3/10’, just change the topic to something random or qualifying of her ability to keep your attention. Her defenses are down, so you have the freedom to set the conversational agenda. Whatever you say next, DON’T backpedal from the neg, DON’T apologize, DON’T say “j/k” and for the love of all that is unholy DON’T assauge her feelings if she puts up a butthurt front. DOUBLE DOWN, and she’ll go DOWN ON THE DOUBLE.)

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A fairly regular bleat from the woe-is-me contingent of hapless beta male romantic losers who’d rather wallow in self-pity than engage the frightening prospect that deliberate effort can improve one’s sex life, is the recurrent assertion that Game – or any of its organic derivatives – will only work on women who are “already attracted to the man”.

This claim is an indicator that the claimant has either

a. no experience seducing women (as opposed to listening to women talk about other men seducing them, or watching women be seduced by other men), or

b. has had the stroke of luck to land Miss Right early in life, settle down, and thereafter be cursed (or blessed, depending on your POV) to view womankind through snow white-tinted glasses, which act as convenient amplifiers that facilitate the projection of male desire onto female sexuality.

First, a tiny caveat. Yes, there will be a particular woman, and a particular time, when a surge of immediate attraction will be powerful enough to propel her post-haste into a man’s bedroomy embrace. These scenarios exist.

Most times, though, a woman’s journey from meeting to fellating is more labyrinthine, less viscerally certain to occur to one or both parties invested in the hoped-for denouement. As any man who’s shivved a day in his life knows, women aren’t wired in the same way as men. Female arousal oscillates on a spectrum from fleeting curiosity to uncontrollable splooging. Fun fact: In the typical relationship, the men that women are dating or have even married will have begun their courtships, unknowingly for the most part, as nothing more than mildly interesting prospects making no more impression than that of a dim speck on the woman’s heart horizon.

The upshot is that in the sexual market, it’s men who have to work harder, and longer, and smarter, to win the love of a woman. Male desire is a rather simpler proposition; it’s on or off, and the switch is pulled within a second of visual inspection of the woman’s face and body.

The lesson here for the average man is that very few women you meet will be “already attracted” to you, and likewise very few women you meet will be instantly and irretrievably unattracted to you. A woman’s attraction is not a switch; it’s a burner that can burn hotter or colder depending on the skill of the man turning the knob.

The majority of women you will date will have felt a little something from the very beginning, but only a few of those women will reach your bed, if any. Dating is not fucking. Pleasantries are not fucking. Kissing is not fucking. Fucking is fucking, and to get there you have to make a woman MORE ATTRACTED to you, which is where the power of Game aka learned charisma, shines brightest, taking you from a dim speck on her heart horizon to a flaming sunRISE announcing a new lay.

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Another shitlib hit piece on Trump has backfired and unintentionally elevated his stature. Related to the founding principles of this blog, more evidence emerges that Trump had tight Game before the PUA subculture formed to systematize the informal seduction rules that naturals obey without knowing it.

Donald was among a group of boys who pulled girls’ hair, passed notes and talked out of turn.

The hair pull encompasses so much of the Game oeuvre because it vice signals a man’s irresistible jerkboy boner fides. Every girl adores a rule-breaker.

“We threw spitballs and we played racing chairs with our desks, crashing them into other desks,” recalled Paul Onish, a classmate, describing himself and Trump as “probably the two worst.”

Donald spent enough time in detention, Onish said, that his buddies nicknamed the punishment “DTs” — short for “Donny Trump.”

Chicks dig a badboy in detention.

“He had a reputation for saying anything that came into his head,” said Donald Kass, 70, a retired agronomist who was a schoolmate. When Trump misidentified Rocca, the pro wrestler, Kass recalled, “We would laugh at him and tell him he was wrong, and he’d say he was right. The next time, he would make the same mistake, and it would be the same thing all over again.”

Poon Commandment XI:

XI.  Be irrationally self-confident

No matter what your station in life, stride through the world without apology or excuse. It does not matter if objectively you are not the best man a woman can get; what matters is that you think and act like you are. Women have a dog’s instinct for uncovering weakness in men; don’t make it easy for them. Self-confidence, warranted or not, triggers submissive emotional responses in women. Irrational self-confidence will get you more pussy than rational defeatism.

It’s no coincidence that Trump has tight Game, a hot wife half his age, and is meteorically rising to God Emperor status as leader of a reborn nationalist movement.


PS What about rational self-confidence? Theoretically, this should be the best emotional state as your self-belief would be grounded in factual achievement and thus reduce the putative cognitive demand of consciously projecting a specific positive characteristic, but practically it doesn’t make a lick of difference if the nature and immediacy of your achievements adheres to UI standards or if they’re subject to self-promotion guidelines, as long as you act like you’ve got the world in your hand.

The point of Poon Commandment XI is that if you had to choose between mediocre realistic self-appraisal and boffo irrational self-glorification, always choose the latter if its women’s love you want. The tragic reality is that most men default to the former, thinking (wrongly) it will buy them respect and admiration to be so honest about themselves to others. But seduction, like advertising, is not the art of brutal honesty; it’s the art of selling yourself (or your product). Honesty is nice but beside the point.

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Birthday Cat is a multi-functional Game changer, capable of flipping girls from cold to hot in an instant. Use judiciously, but never second-guess His Royal Kitty’s pedigree, because Birthday Cat has slain pussies on all social media platforms and in all courtship contexts. The latest delirious victim (somewhat NSFW):



Birthday Cat is the emoji equivalent of “lol”, “gay”, or “bring da movies“. I think he’s even better than those, because girls can’t resist a cute jerkcat.

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