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Archive for the ‘Girls’ Category

I’m hearing this off-tune braggadocio a lot lately from the usual leper colony of game haters: “I just walk up and make small talk like a normal human being, and get girls! Why do you game dorks make such a big deal out of it?”

Lemme clue you in about what’s going on behind the scenes here. At least a few of these “just be yourself” shoot-from-the-unhip variants are doing what they say — picking up girls and whisking them to the altar on nothing but small talk — but what they don’t tell you is the quality of girls they small talk into lustful abandon. Hint: They ain’t HBhubbahubbas.

Yeah, if you’ve got your shit together, and compose yourself that way, you can conceivably chit chat a 5 into a deep love trance. For example, sometimes to shake the rust off I’ll hit on plainer girls equipping myself with only an arsenal of small talk. Once, I saw a incipiently chubby, swipply girl in a t-shirt advertising some tropical locale she had visited. She was no great looker, easy on one eye, but respectable enough for practice, so I veered in with my game put on hold. I said “Hey your shirt. I’ve been there. Great place. Did you like it?”

No qualification, no push pull, no teasing, no escalating kino, no fission grade smirk, nothing except average guy fluff talk and (by then internalized) non-obsequious body language. Ten minutes later, she was smiling like a drunk porpoise. When it ended, no numbers exchanged, she looked almost annoyed, as if silently wondering why did I waste her time if I wasn’t going to ask her out.

Don’t misconstrue. Small talk is great, and it, like other tools of applied charisma, is a skill that can be honed and targeted to nuke vagina from orbit. Shit, half the men who fail at love haven’t even gotten to the step where actual words are coming out of their mouths around women.

But if you’re gonna play in the big leagues and throw your pitch at bona fide babes, you’ll need more to close the deal than a polite acknowledgement of her choice in breast coverings. (In fact, you’d do better to tell a hottie exactly that: “Hey, I like your choice in breast covering.” It’ll shock her into attraction.) You’ll need the knuckleball, sinker, cutter, and a little bit of unpredictable english if you want to stand out from the mob of scrubs.

*LSMV = low sexual market value

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If, near the end of a mutually rewarding date, the girl lasciviously invites you back to her place, but once there, despite your best efforts and tightest takeaway game, steadfastly refuses to bang and taunts you with the prospect of night-long cuddling, you have a control freak with Golden Gash issues. Leave immediately, and wish her well during her stay at the spinster-in-training school for the reformed slut.

Insurmountable last minute resistance is unforgivable when the girl has made the blatant overture for a nightcap and opens her own place to you. This is nothing less than a bitch power play. The only way to beat a crazy, cock-creviced chick playing this game is to deny your participation. The last thing you want is to be that beta guy stuck in a situation where hours are spent fruitlessly begging for pussy table scraps like some street cur. If it’s heading in that direction, kick yourself out on a subtly underdramatic note, and head home with your pride intact.

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A reader passed along a screenshot of a text exchange he had with a girl he was trying to bang. He wanted to show how bratty this girl was behaving, tossing shit test after shit test his way, and wondered how he could eventually subdue her, wrest the brat from its chokehold on her id, and get her softly purring like a kitten.

Nick starts weakly. If you know the girl is a nuclear bitch, you’ve gotta make your first swing count. That pimp hand has to make an appearance early to set the tone of the conversation. Nick began like a normal human being, and quickly found out his politeness was ineffective. All his nod to courtesy did was incite Jessica to amazing feats of brattitude.

Right away she calls him Olga. For this reason, I call the style of game designed to tame tankgrrls, Olga Game.

Nick’s reply comes four hours later (he makes her wait as punishment for the ‘tude). He lifts a line straight from CH: “lol bratty mcbrattster”. So far so good.

She plays ball. Another five hours later, she replies “don’t question it hahaha” This chick has squared off with alphas before. I bet she has a clit piercing.

Nick answers two hours later, and amps the asshole a couple of degrees. He pulls out another classic CH line, “littlespoon doesn’t make the rules”. Too little, too late? We’ll see.

Jessica strikes back hard. She thinks she’s being funny, but her last text is tinged with cunty spite. Now I’m convinced that not only does she have a clit piercing, she has taken it up the ass.

I lost the original source for this reader submission, so I don’t know what happened next, or if there was an informative follow-up to this shiv-shaped badinage. All I can tell Nick is that he’s dealing with a hellion, which is bad and good. Bad, because she’ll eat you alive if you show a flicker of beta weakness. Good because if you get through her defenses with your pride intact, she will be the dirtiest slut in bed for you.

Olga Game is essentially script flipping. Girls like Jessica will expect you to continue your hard teasing banter, (and they’ll continue returning equally caustic parries); therefore, the way to win this battle… is to refuse to fight it. Take her mental hamster script and rewrite it. When she expects another emotionally arid jest, respond instead with a faux pose of sincerity, laced with a judgmental pique aimed at her inability to connect like a normal healthy woman.

Jessica Rabid: “no no I think you need to go put on a nice dress blah blah…”

Nick the Iron Dick: “sure, i’ll get on that as soon as you drop the act and be real”

This is thermonuclear script-flipping intended for a very specific audience and context. Gauge wisely. If a girl is a broken record with her endless bitch barrages of return fire, that’s the moment to think about deploying Olga Game. It’s shocking, and for the girl who is used to being shocked by assholes of varying degrees of state control, the “be real” plot change to the stale book of her dating life could be the shock that finally tames her.

Sometimes these sassy chicks get trapped by their own “I’m a tough broad” expectations, and lose the capacity to be emotionally vulnerable around men. Their hearts are as scarred as their vaginas. If you meet one of these girls, think about using that pair of high hearts you have up your sleeve. Make a feint toward vulnerability, however expertly faked, and the hardened trollop may soften up just enough for your penetrating id busters.

Just don’t be stupid about it. Don’t profess your attraction like some warrior poet. A little step back can mean a big leap forward. If she takes the Olga Game bait and backs off a little, you’ve got a chance with her. Now you’re no longer some “fun guy” she feels free to fuck around with because you’re “just another player like all the rest.” Proceed in this manner, extracting genuine emotions, but return to the previous script at inopportune times, like when there’s a sense that the conversation is veering close to sap. Unpredictability will slowly but inevitably switch the chaser-chasee roles into an alignment more favorable for the man’s romantic goals.

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Beta Or Gay?

It used to be easy to tell beta males apart from gay males. Betas had their issues with women — social awkwardness, anxiety, inexperience at the art of courtship — but you never mistook their deficiencies for latent homosexuality. Through the sperg haze of their betatude, it was still clear these were guys who were attracted to women and loved to be around pretty girls, (maybe loved them too much, leading to a lack of state control in the company of beautiful babies).

But that was then. This is now:

The onesie party is bad enough, but that ball-crunching leg cross by the guy in the white jammies… jeeeeeezus. I wonder if he looks at his own penis through a system of mirrors, lest he faint from direct sight of it?

Generation Self-Castration. A low T epidemic is sweeping the white West. Pretty soon we’ll be talking about survivalist holdouts with abnormally high T levels in the 5-10 ng/dl range.

So…. these three males: Beta or gay?

The woman-thing appears to be a pear-shaped Lena Dunham clone. All this gaybeta/betagay excitement will not rouse her hamster even a little bit from its slumber, nor will an effervescent tingle circumnavigate her arid tomb chute this night.

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False Rape Accusations made by women are a systemic problem, and deserve scrutiny in the interest of justice. False Domestic Abuse Accusations are a slightly less malign version of FRAs, and for this reason perhaps occur more frequently. This video and story are an interesting insider look at the mechanics of an FDAA, how it unfolds, and how it speaks to a particularly vile part of female nature few people are willing to confront: The part that trips into action when a woman wants to hurt a man and chooses the expedient of enlisting white knights to serve as her violence and punishment proxies.

It’s time to fight the false rape accusation and false domestic abuse accusation cultures. Empowered women and dopey, gullible white knights conspire to put innocent men in jail. Active and persistent shaming of the women who lie about being victimized by rape and domestic abuse (and lie about both being a bigger problem than they are), and active and persistent shaming of the white knights who mindlessly rush to the defense of these wicked women, will help put an end to the twisted judicial and corrupt family court systems that have slowly and inexorably morphed over decades into an anonymous, gluttonous, anti-male woodchipper.

It’s time to have a national dialogue about FRAs and FDAAs.

Do women really want men to secretly videotape every moment of every day spent together as a means of self-preservation in the event of an emotional female outburst? Because that’s the world women and their feminist leaders are creating, whether they know it or not.

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BPD Women

A favored hatemachine lever recently latched onto by an assortment of bitterboys and ignoramuses is the assertion that the world is full of women with borderline personality disorder, and these BPD women are the ones that “PUAs” are bedding, (due to some confluence of psychological factors intrinsic to BPD).

It’s time for perspective. And truthfulness.

2% of the general population have BPD symptoms. 75% of that 2% are women.

This female BPD rate is about on par with the percentage of lesbian homosexuals in the population. Perhaps even lower.

So the “EASY BPD TARGETS” smear by inchoate anti-charisma haters is bullshit. The odds that only BPD women, and never psychologically sound women, consensually share the romantic company of free-lovin’ jerkboy charmers are very very low. The odds that jerkboy charmers are equally adept at charming the panties off psychologically sound women are much higher.

And this fact really sticks in the craw of a certain sect of mythologizers.

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There’s a new(ly identified) attractiveness standard by which women are relentlessly judged for sexual, romantic, and yes, marital worth: The swayback. Reader Experienced Father passes along the relevant study.

This paper reports independent studies supporting the proposal that human standards of attractiveness reflect the output of psychological adaptations to detect fitness-relevant traits. We tested novel a priori hypotheses based on an adaptive problem uniquely faced by ancestral hominin females: a forward-shifted center of mass during pregnancy. The hominin female spine possesses evolved morphology to deal with this adaptive challenge: wedging in the third-to-last lumbar vertebra. Among ancestral women, vertebral wedging would have minimized the net fitness threats posed by hypolordosis and hyperlordosis, thereby creating selective pressures on men to prefer such women as mates. On this basis, we hypothesized that men possess evolved mate preferences for women with this theoretically optimal angle of lumbar curvature. […]

Men again tended to prefer women exhibiting cues to a degree of vertebral wedging closer to optimum. This included preferring women whose lumbar curvature specifically reflected vertebral wedging rather than buttock mass. These findings reveal novel, theoretically anchored, and previously undiscovered standards of attractiveness.

The optimal swayback looks like the middle female silhouette:

The woman with no swayback too closely resembles a prepubescent boy. The woman with excessive swayback looks like a scoliotic whore who spent too may nights leaning into the open car windows of johns. The woman in the middle is juuuuuust tight.

It’s theorized that women with a 45 degree curvature of the lower spine are best adapted for squatting on their haunches and foraging for food. Over time, men would’ve come to prefer this female body shape because it indicated better fitness at the job of gathering nuts, berries, and other huthold objects.

I don’t know if this study controlled for race, but I bet one that does would find that the male preference for swayback is more cross-racially universal than is the male preference for bloated booty, which black men favor more.

Anyhow, more lab confirmation of the CH formulations based on real-world observations that biomechanics is god, love is a tender effusion stimulated in men by small adjustments in the geometric contours of the female face and body, and feminists are butthurt loons.

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