Teasing Should Be Like Breathing

My girl had challenged me to a pushup hold contest. This is where you assume the pushup position and hold it there for as long as you can. I had said she stood no chance with me, and she eagerly set out to prove me wrong. But instead of following the script she was expecting, I reached out and swatted her inner elbow while she was in her pushup, and she crumpled to the ground, whining about my unfairness as I declared “victory” over her puny femaleness. She then chased me around the house until I tossed her onto the bed where intimacy commenced.

When a girl asks you to do something for or with her, instead of following her request to the tee you should be thinking how you can screw around with her expectation. Your brain needs to be trained to think like this if you are a natural born beta who did not instill in himself the proper mindset when it is best instilled — elementary school. Years of pulling ponytails on playgrounds prepares a boy for dealing with adult women who want to be dominated and teased into arousal by a carefree man who doesn’t take them seriously. Call it “depedestalization”; the act of teasing is akin to pushing a girl right off her pedestal, whether erected by herself or by orbiting obsequious men, and is craved by every woman with a working vagina.

Remember, because the average woman is biologically more valuable than the average man, every girl is born perched atop a pedestal. The doctor holds it upside down, gives it a few slaps to firm the supports, and then inserts it under the infant girl’s bottom, where it remains propping her up until she is knocked off it by either circumstance, aging, or deliberate effort. If the infant girl grows up ugly, her pedestal will shrink of its own accord, until it is not more than a speck on her ass. If she grows up pretty, her pedestal will get bigger in accordance with the slavish attention she receives from men. By age 18, a hot chick may as well be surveying her queefdom from the apex of a pyramid. It would take a truly impressive asshole to knock such a girl off her throne, which may explain why the hottest girls fall for the biggest jerks.

Therefore, teasing a girl should be like breathing to you. It should come naturally, with little forethought. For instance, if she asks you to pick up a bag of kitty litter for her furry child substitute, rather than dutifully fulfilling her request you could pretend to forget to buy it and inform her that you bought an electric zapper instead to train the cat to go in the toilet. Then pull out a black wand or something similar and chase after the cat to “demonstrate” the efficacy of electroshock kitty training. If you can do this with a straight face, she will freak out. Once informed of the prank, she will smile, hit you hard, and then jump your bones.

Or maybe she gets excited to tell you about something that happened to her at work. If you’re a beta, you would ask her to proceed and listen intently as she unloads her emotions. She will be grateful for your listening ability, but not too turned on. However, if you’re an alpha, you would prop your hands under your chin, curl your fingers, purse your lips into a pinched smile, widen your eyes while blinking exaggeratedly for effect and arch your eyebrows like you’re about to burst from the anticipation. Clap your hands like a little boy catching his first glimpse of a birthday present, and say “Do go on! Yes? Yes!?! Oh, the suspense is killing me! I hope it lasts!” If her eyes aren’t shimmering with joy and lust by this point, you are dating a golem. Naturally, she will give you shit. This just means you’re doing it right.

I know this blog has an inordinate number of aspie readers who can’t divine subtleties of argument, so before the usual complaints are heard it pays to remind yourself that while women love to get teased, their appreciation doesn’t mean you should tease them ALL THE FUCKING TIME, regardless of circumstance. If she wants you to pick up flowers for her mom’s funeral, it’s probably not a good idea to tease her about her allergies to roses. You can occasionally pick up a gallon of milk for her without making a production out of it. I really hate having to include these obvious caveats, but man oh man alive there are some numbskulls on this board.

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Update On The C-SPAN Ex-Lovers Spat

An anonymous source emailed the following to Chateau headquarters:

As someone who knows Seavey and Rittelmeyer, I’d like to point out that she deserves it. She is crazy. Seavey is usually not so crazy, but he is showing some restraint. Right after he broke up with her, I overheard him discuss how sociopathic she was: “It’s like for the last two years I’ve been fucking a lizard.”

A choice quote from Helen. “I’m not sure why people have… friends. Books are more efficient.”

The panel was convened to discuss a book, and Helen’s essay in the book is fantastic. It’s about dissolute Yale conservatives. Here’s an excerpt: http://www.studentfreepress.net/archives/4049

After second viewing of the video, I think Seavey got in a couple of biting jabs at Sluttelmeyer. So it wasn’t a total lost cause, though it was a suicide mission under the circumstances. Jabs aside, Seavey comes across on the whole like a spurned beta, not a cool and calm devil-may-care alpha. He clearly still wants to pork her; the raging unfulfilled lust is strong in him. Of course, this is nothing unusual for dumpees. Alphas occasionally get dumped to, but it’s in how they handle it that separates them from the average pining man. (By “handle it”, I mean they will casually turn to girl #2 in their harem to soothe the pain.) By the way, from what I read of Seavey’s cached blog posts, she dumped him three days before the C-SPAN event.

In the previous post, I wasn’t concerned with the veracity of Seavey’s accusations or the dynamics of his relationship with Sluttelmeyer. That wasn’t the point of it. It was to show how people react differently to men and women misbehaving in essentially identical manners, based on deep-seated evolutionary impulses. Bitter beta males are simply not cut as much slack as bitter beta females would be cut.

But since the details of Seavey’s and Mini-Rand’s relationship or lack thereof seem to fascinate people, I will offer some advice to Seavey on how he should handle similar situations should they arise in the future.

First, Seavey, let me be frank: You have no game. Zero. Nada. I can tell. Your gamelessness oozes from every pore. I doubt you have ever had a normal, socially savvy, non-nerd friend in your life who was good with women who could have mentored you. Read this blog and other similar sites and begin your journey of discovery. Then you can stop dating down to pretentiously eccentric, credentialist suckup, robotic, afeminine 3s and 4s. “Yale… the school I went to”. LOL.

Second, when you have an “on again, off again relationship” with a chick for two years, your working assumption should be that she is fucking around. In fact, that should be your working assumption for *all* women until proven otherwise. Girls must earn your respect. “On again, off again” is not the way to earn that respect. But it is a good way to earn a tier three slot in your stable of regulars.

Third, why would you date a “sociopathic lizard” for two years? It’s a telling sign of a lack of options that you chose the indignity of sticking it in her reptilian hole as she led you around by the nose, instead of dumping her scaly ass as soon as you got the chance for a better woman. Face it, she fucked with your head, and you fell for her hard. What you should have been doing is treating her like the occasional fuckbuddy she in reality was to you, while concurrently dating other women. That would have given you the proper perspective and attitude. Had you done that, you would have seen her magically begin to behave more ladylike and work for your attention. That is the power of aloof asshole alpha game.

Fourth, when she dumped you three days before that panel discussion, you should have been EXPECTING IT. Hell, she was already done with you two years ago, but you couldn’t see it because you were blinded by the pussy. Had you followed points 1 – 3 above, you wouldn’t have even been in the position to be dumped just prior to an awkwardly planned C-SPAN event. When she approached you to tell you that she was dumping you, you should have shrugged your shoulders and said “I didn’t know we were together.” That’s how you steal victory from a slut. And it would have been true. Then you could have invited your new girl to sit in the audience and watch you, while enjoying the jealousy it would surely have provoked in Mini-Rand.

Fifth, don’t expect to win allies by disgracing a girl in a public venue — out of context — with tales of your personal history with her. The world doesn’t work that way. People’s sympathies will always lie with the woman, particularly if the man attacking her is charmless or otherwise inept at working a crowd, and the woman in question is of fertile age. You had no hope to come out on top by commandeering a political panel discussion to zing an ex about her slutty misanthropic ways, even if said ways were at odds with her self-proclaimed ideology and religious mores. Your time to stick the shiv in was long before that panel discussion. Long before she formally dumped you, actually. Perhaps an offhand sly reference to her sordid sexual or friendship history, slipped innocuously into the conversation so that few would know what you were alluding to, would have sufficed to earn you gotcha points with the insiders who were watching you and her at that event, without ostracizing you from the rest of the crowd… and, now, from the internet hordes. Try to put yourself in an alpha male’s shoes — a man who is fucking more than one woman at any given time and who has no trouble getting new women when he wants — and imagine what he would have done in that situation. I guarantee he would not have done what you did, the way you did it. I doubt he would even give the reptile a second thought.

Commenter Thunear is right. The world’s biggest, raunchiest, most unethical sluts are libertarian chicks. They will jump on just about any cock that is half-way alpha. The libertard girl craves the mightily aloof cock like no other woman. She wilts for such a man to brusquely dismiss her romantic gestures. But, alas, many of these Rand-obsessing chicks are ugly, and have to settle for riding the beta cock carousel, a kiddie ride compared to its manlier cousin. Since they are surrounded by lesser betas and omegas, they tire easily and quickly of any one cock, and move on to new cock effortlessly. As long as you understand what you’re getting into with the libertard slut, you can have fun with them. Think of the upsides: No flowers, dinners, or presents necessary. Check splitting all the time, except when she’s buying. Sexual voraciousness, S&M, bondage, public sex. Threesomes a distinct possibility. No worries about pregnancy (most of them have had their tubes tied). No pressure to propose. No girly stuff. If she looks fat, tell her! She’ll love you for it. All you have to do is humor her long-winded conversations about privatized toll roads and expect nothing in the way of fidelity, and you’ll have hand in the relationship; a fuckbuddy for as long as you like. PS: Libertarian chicks love it in the pooper.

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Why So Serious?

The night was late. I was killing her softly with a tune I began playing on my guitar. She eased back, ensconced in the plush cushions of my sofa, and her eyelids lowered a bit as I strummed my grandioso opus for her ears only. A content smile warmed her face and she interrupted me when I paused to work out a chord.

“You look so serious when you play. I like it.”

My serious concentration took a break as I turned to face her. She had lust in her eyes. She sat up and wrapped her arms around my shoudlers. We kissed.

I easily recalled her statement the next day because they reminded me of eerily similar statements said by past lovers in analogous circumstances. When I have redirected my attention from seducing women to performing a solo activity disengaged from their participation, they have responded in like manner —

“I love it when you’re so serious.”

What is going on here? I have a theory.

Women love two things: Passionate men who pursue their mission(s) in life with single-minded focus, and easily distracted men whose interests and hobbies are capable of diverting their attention from the wiles of women. The evolutionary reasons for this can be explained thus:

– Men on a mission who pursue goals with passion are better at securing resources and protection (survivial value) for the women in their lives. Women don’t consciously think this way, of course, but they don’t need to. All their genes care about is getting them to swoon for a man fully “locked in” on whatever challenge he is confronting or purpose he is fulfilling. The rest will take care of itself.

– Men who are easily distracted away from women’s beauty and women’s guile are attractive because they signal a high level of competence and familiarity with women (an “act like you’ve been there before” attitude) that suggests to women a history of success at bedding them. Men who are successful at bedding women bring high replicative value that redounds to the sexual success of any sons the women may have by them. This is why women love to chase after unattainable bad boys who’ve never paid for a dinner or given flowers in their lives.

Moral of this post: Get a hobby, any hobby (except video gaming or Civll War reenacting), and throw yourself into it. Make sure she occasionally sees your brow sweating with passionate single-mindedness. You don’t even have to be that good at it. Her libido will respond right on cue.

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The Duke Rejection List

I’ve gotten more emails to write about this Duke slut Karen Owen than I have on any other topic. I wasn’t interested at first, having scanned the notorious Powerpoint (also at this link in case first doesn’t work) and concluded that it was just another story of a whore riding the (alpha) cock carousel who happened to forego discretion and publicize her sluttery, nothing to see here move along dystopia down the hall and to your left. But a closer inspection of Owen’s tell-all reveals a river of scorned subconsciousness that the mainstream feminist bloggers have predictably failed to notice —

this chick was rejected by each and every one of these high status men she banged.

“But how can that be?”, some of the duller among you will ask. “None of the men turned her down for sex.”

Don’t you know it’s different for women? Failing to get laid is not how women are rejected; they are rejected when they don’t receive romance, love, and long term commitment from the men who fuck them. Most women under 25 with a slim and healthy 17-23 BMI profile have no trouble getting laid from the men they find attractive. Given that most young women can get sex fairly easily, falling into bed with a man, even high status men such as the Duke athletes targeted by Owen, is not much of an accomplishment. It’s like giving a trophy to a dog for being able to lick its own balls.

Now convincing these fly-by-nighter men to date, romance, introduce to their friends, spend money on, and marry the women they screw… that’s the real trick. And it is the measuring stick we should be applying to skank hos like Karen Owen. For by that metric, she and many others like her fail miserably.

For example, here is her write-up of the man (a tennis star) she rated the worst:

Note this man’s utter dismissal of her as a potential long term prospect. “Did not bother to kiss more than a few seconds”. “…after which he simply walked out”. “…did not return”. “‘I will leave them outside of the building for you'”.

And Owen’s reaction?

“1/10. Seriously.”

That is the tersely bitter send-off of one pissed and deeply wounded woman. Don’t let the whimsical snarkiness and slut empowerment pose fool you — even the raunchiest cockgobblers have a heart inside that beats for a man to love and cherish them above all others. The love of a man, true and loyal, is the slut’s white whale.

But what about the men she rated highly? Did they stay with her? Here’s her write-up of the man she rated the highest:

What did the first place man do differently than the last place man? He catered to her female need for signs of romance and commitment (which, in the end, weren’t forthcoming. And that kid went HA HAW):

“…intense level of eye contact”. “‘…if I get lucky you’ll wake me up with a kiss in the morning'”. “Him refusing to allow me to leave before noon”. “…how important it was to him that I got off as well”.

So when PUAs talk about leaving women better than you found them, this is what they mean — treat your pump and dumps like girlfriends and in the ego-assuaged haze of their pleasure they will forget that you haven’t actually committed to them beyond offering the half-eaten burrito in your fridge.

Unfortunately for Miss Owen, this story with ÜberMan #1 does not have a happy ending. After that amazing night together, this is how the following rendezvous meetings went down:

I saw him out briefly at Devines the Tuesday after, but since we had only just seen each other [ed: “seen” = “fuck” in chickspeak. GSS Fail!]… I did not even approach him, only making sure that he saw me in passing. […] I would have liked to have hooked up many more times than two, but he was tired and I needed to graduate the next day.

Long term romance fail. When a girl is careful not to talk to a lover in public for fear of creating an awkward moment that might kill the budding romance, you know you are dealing with a slut shooting way out of her league and, in the big picture, a dating market beautifully arranged to the maximum advantage of alpha males. This truly is the golden era for single men with game who have wisely avoided the trap of marriage. Conversely, it is the hell matrix for betas who now have nothing to offer but the pitiful consolation prize of being willing to wear ‘This is what a feminist looks like’ t-shirts in hopes of copping a pity fuck from a short-haired hippie chick on a five hour bender.

The whole Powerslut Powerpoint reads like the above. Owen snags another Duke alpha athlete (implicitly she has studiously avoiding snagging any computer science students on campus), has her sex, and then never sees the guy again except at beer pong parties where they exchange knowing glances if she’s lucky, or unacknowledged quick exits if she’s unlucky. Then she writes about it with a dash of humor and self-awareness to exorcise the demons tormenting her broken heart and chafed vulva, and sends it to a couple of girlfriends, her male-oriented brain assuming the girlfriends would be loyal to her and not pass it on to the wider public. Big mistake.

Probably the stupidest commentary on this affair was by that cougartown fembot Penelope Trunk, (the hypocritical conniving cacklepuss stalkercunt who harassed a man and his family in real life for having the gall to sneer at her feminist boilerplate), who in her infinite perspicacity managed to turn it into a treatise on, color me surprised!, sexual harassment and female empowerment via the magical art of spreading your legs for chaste men who only have sex once every thousand years when Jupiter and Saturn are aligned.

So what makes these slides so fascinating?  I think it’s her spunk and self-knowledge and enthralling sense of her own power. I wish I had had that when I was her age. I am twenty years older than Owen, but she inspires me to be brave, takes risks, and let my creativity get the best of me.

So what’s stopping you? Oh, that’s right. Twenty additional years (forty in female years) isn’t good for the bangathon business.

Jesus, what a buffoon.

Here’s some real insight for ya, Penelope and assorted Jizzabelers — Karen Owen has royally fucked up her chances to extract marriage from a good man thanks to her intemperate decision to write about, share and, consequently, archive for the masses for all eternity her insatiable hunger for a variety of lacrosse cock. Try to turn down the knobs on your psychologically-cemented female projection modules for a moment and put yourself in an alpha male’s shoes. What man worth his yarbles in character, money, career, looks, charm and/or social status is going to use Karen Owen for anything more than a hole in which to dump a perfunctory fuck? What high status man would marry a slut with a tap sheet a mile long, her every clitoral flutter registered in loving detail in ASCII, jpeg and png for his friends to read and laugh at?

Rhetorical.

Naturally, the double standards crowd will pipe up that Owen was just doing what men do all the time. Congratulations! You just figured out double standards exist and life isn’t fair. First prize, a group hug from fellow knobbobbers. Second prize, a beta with few options. Third prize, you’re still a rancid slut.

The impolite fact is that a man who wrote an Owen-esque fuck list would not suffer much, if any, penalty in the dating market *or* in the more tightly regulated social market for his promiscuity. Sure, a few femtards would wail at the objectifying of women and the unfairness that ugly but SMRT broads are passed over for alpha bimbo sorostitutes, but in the crucible of real life most normal heterosexual women would be uncomfortably drawn to such a man, and would work for his affections. I’m sure the athletes who are a part of Owen’s fuck list are high-fiving their pounding of Owen’s sperm cavern when they’re not fucking a hundred other groupies scrambling for their attentions.

Bottom line: a male Karen Owen would actually see his sexual market value *rise*, while Owen’s value as a girlfriend and potential wife has undoubtedly fallen. This — plus the raw hypergamy on display by her choice of sexual partners and her ability to effortlessly fulfill that limbic impulse — is the underlying message of Owen’s cutesy confessional. And it’s the message that the legacy media, the middle-aged vicars of vicariousness, and the feminists are trying hard to miss.

******

A few other points of note. Duke is also the site of the infamously racist false rape accusation by a black stripper against white lacrosse players. The mass media and fembots had a glorious communal orgasm over that one until it was discovered the whole thing was a lie. Funny how now, with another Duke scandal wafting in the autumn air, those same media mavens and feminists can’t be bothered to string up Karen Owen for her objectifying of Duke’s male students. Instead of a wail, admiration for her journey of self-actualization is shared by all.

Hypocrites, liars and filthy cunts, the lot of them.

Karen Owen herself looks masculinized. Check out her manjaw, beady eyes and heavy overhanging brow (on the left):

The photo of her lends evidence to my theory that women with high serum testosterone, or women who have been prenatally drowned in single mamma’s high T syrup, are more likely to slut it up with a platoon of men. These kinds of women are also more likely to value raw looks in a man, whereas more feminine women tend to downgrade male looks relative to other attractive male traits such as humor, charm and social acumen. It is possible that Owen’s masculinization gives her the male-like capacity to absorb to a greater extent than most women a series of repeated romantic rejections from crudely inattentive one night stands.

Last thought. What I’ve written above is based on the assumption that Owen was honest with her Powerpoint. It isn’t a guarantee that she’s telling the truth. The internet is the place where people make shit up. (Case in point: I could be making everything up as well. Every story I write could be a total lie. It isn’t, but it could be. You’ll just have to take my word for it.)

Owen could very well have made everything up for shits and giggles, or she could have been cruelly rejected by an alpha lacrosse player and this was her weird idea of getting back at him and those like him. It’s not unheard of that women will lie, in both petty and grand ways, about the men who have hurt them in a vain attempt at exacting vengeance, nor is it unheard of that they will fantasize out loud about having sex with alpha males. For purposes of discussion, we’ll have to believe the story as reported: the hookups are real and she only meant to send her fuck list to a few (formerly) close girlfriends.

I’m sure the Duke lacrosse players are crying in their red cups. [/sarcasm]

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Anal Sex The New Technicality

(This post is dedicated to Geert Wilders in his fight against the forces of powerful leftist intellectuals intent on punishing him for the sin of speaking his mind on a subject that gives the leftie witch hunters the hives — namely, the capitulation of Europe to Islam. May he be victorious in his battle against these traitors not only to the West, but to their own classical liberal principles.)

Anal sex among women is up, way up. And not just anal sex; oral intimacy is up too.

Here’s the big story. In 1992, 16 percent of women aged 18-24 said they’d tried anal sex. Now 20 percent of women aged 18-19 say they’ve done it, and by ages 20-24, the number is 40 percent. In 1992, the highest percentage of women in any age group who admitted to anal sex was 33. In 2002, it was 35. Now it’s 46.

According to various bloggers around the web who routinely cite data from the General Social Survey (GSS) purporting to show that women are actually getting less slutty since the 1980s, this new data throws a monkey wrench into those prematurely ejaculated conclusions. If women are getting less slutty, how is it anal and oral sex are increasing among all age groups?

Well, it depends on how you define “slut”. I have previously contended that the GSS sex data cannot be fully trusted because 1) women (and to a lesser extent, men) have a deeply ingrained inclination to lie about matters concerning the most ego-wrapped delicate questions of sexual practice, and 2) women in particular are prone to dismissing acts of anal, oral and hand sex as instances of actual “sex”. Try to put yourself in the fuck-me pumps of a 22 year old virgin who is answering anonymous survey questions about her sex life.

How many men have you had sex with in the past five years?

GIRL: [thinking to herself] Well, there was Tommy, but he only did me in the ass, so that doesn’t count. Then there was Trent, but I only gave him blowjobs. I told him that I wanted to save myself for marriage. Then the asshole left me! And there was Brian, but except for a few BJs and a tug job behind the 7-11, I never gave it up to him. And…. let’s see, who else… oh yeah, Joe, Chris, some guy who called himself the Dude, Adam, Hoight, Anfernee… mostly anal, some mouth love. But I didn’t give my virginity to any of them. Yay me! So… I didn’t have sex with any men.

You can see where this is going.

In other words, the female rationalization hamster is shitting bite-sized pellets all over the GSS results. And now we have data publicized in the Journal of Sexual Medicine providing evidence for my “Hamster Skewed Sociosexuality Discrepancy” theory, in the form of rising anal and oral sex rates among previously reported less sexually-active women. Something’s not adding up among the numbers, and that something is women’s inability to correctly diagnose their own levels of sluttiness. Anal sex is the new technicality that lets women avoid the slut label while allowing them to experience the exquisite proxy pleasure of procreative sex.

To wit, as a man, are you going to give a “get out of the whorehouse free” card to a woman who is a vaginal virgin but has had a platoon of peckers up her bunghole? No, of course not.

Not only are more chicks trying anal sex, but the data show that more of them are sticking with the taboo pleasure.

The last time I looked at the anal sex data, I figured that most women who reported having done it meant they’d tried it just once. I was wrong. If you push these women beyond the “have you ever” question, the numbers stay surprisingly high, and they’re getting higher. In 1992, the percentage of women in their 20s and 30s who said they’d had anal sex in the past year was around 10 percent. Now that number has doubled to more than 20 percent, and one-third of these women say they’ve done it in the last month. Among all women surveyed, the number who reported anal sex in their most recent sexual encounter was 3 percent to 4 percent.

Most women love anal sex once they’ve tried it. I’m convinced there is a physiological connection between the anus/rectum area and the orgasmic zones of the pussy that accounts for the thrills women receive from ass love. There is also the dominance aspect of anal sex that is undoubtedly highly arousing to women; after all, what position is more degrading than bent over taking it up the poop chute? Degrading = tingles? No. Degrading = seismic snatch waves.

One of my fondest foreplay moments was when a (married) Russian chick (from Vladivostok, if that means anything to you Russophiles) stripped naked, turned around, and looking inquisitively over her shoulder, asked in the most pleasingly feminine voice, slightly accented: “Would you like to do me in the ass?” Naturally, I obliged. She squealed like a piglet that found a fresh mudhole… for me to plug up.

That’s a lot of butt sex. And remember, this is what women are reporting. If anything, they’re probably understating the truth.

You don’t say? Trying to get a straight answer from women about their sexual history is like getting cultured yuppies to admit the real reason why they moved to the suburbs once their kids were ready for public schooling.

So what’s with all the buggery? Is it brutality? Coercion? A porn-inspired male fantasy at women’s expense?

It’s none of those things and all of those things. Chicks dig the submissive posture. The pleasure of submitting, exemplified most conspicuously by presenting for rough anal intrusion, induces orgasms in women.

Apparently not. Check out the orgasm data. Among women who had vaginal sex in their last encounter, the percentage who said they reached orgasm was 65. Among those who received oral sex, it was 81. But among those who had anal sex, it was 94. Anal sex outscored cunnilingus. […]

What could explain this? Taboo thrill? Clitoral migration? Some new kind of vegetable oil?

Here’s my guess. Look carefully at Table 4, Pages 355-6. Only 6 percent of women who had anal sex in their last encounter did so in isolation. Eighty-six percent also had vaginal sex. Seventy-two percent also received oral sex. Thirty-one percent also had partnered masturbation. And the more sex acts a woman engaged in during the encounter, the more likely she was to report orgasm. These other activities are what gave the women their orgasms. The anal sex just came along for the ride.

So why did the inclusion of anal sex bump the orgasm figure up to 94 percent? It didn’t. The causality runs the other way. Women who were getting what they wanted were more likely to indulge their partners’ wishes. It wasn’t the anal sex that caused the orgasms. It was the orgasms that caused the anal sex.

I’m not sure about Saletan’s reading of the orgasm data. What percent of women had vaginal, oral or hand sex in isolation in their last encounter? Those numbers might be equally low. If it was true that a variety and increasing number of sex acts contributed to women’s reaching orgasm, then we would see women’s claims of reaching orgasm more evenly dispersed between the various sex acts. A woman who had anal, oral, hand and vaginal sex in one session would be just as likely to reach orgasm during any one of those acts. Instead, anal sex comes out on top, brown and stinky. The answer to why women reach orgasm with anal sex more often than other sexual practices is simpler than the reason given by Saletan — most chicks, and men too, don’t like the idea of sticking shit-covered cocks anywhere else than the butt. A2M porn fantasies to the contrary notwithstanding, the female ass is generally the last place men and women like to go after a long lovemaking session violating her less toxic orifices. Given that, it’s no surprise that later-to-orgasm chicks climax more often during the last sexual act than during the earlier acts. Furthermore, anal sex is in and of itself very pleasurable for women. It could also be that women simply have an easier time cumming with a dick shoved up their butt.

If anal sex is a trailing indicator of women’s sexual satisfaction, then by all means, let’s toast the new findings. Here’s to you, ladies. Bottoms up.

I remember reading an astounding sex survey figure in a book about human sexuality. I can’t recall the name of the book; I think it was something like “What Men Want, What Women Want”. It was published in the mid 90s. The author had data showing that the college football team quarterback at the University of Oklahoma had had 2,000 sexual partners over his four year college career.

I don’t know what made me think of that.

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Attention Whore Hyperactivity Disorder

Roosh’s post about the future of game brought to mind a trend in female behavior regarding girls and their self-perceived value shooting through the roof thanks to relentless male attention from social network sites and online dating.

Thought experiment: imagine two girls with an objective beauty rank of 6. Which girl will have a higher opinion of her attractiveness to men?

a. A rural girl without internet access who does not have an online presence and has only received flirtatious attention from a handful of men who live in her town?

b. A thoroughly modernized and plugged-in girl with a Facebook account that she posts photos to every day which gather comments from twenty different men, a Twitter account with a hundred male followers who read her every passing inane thought, and a Match.com online profile that receives emails from hundreds of horny men on a weekly basis?

You can see where this is going. It would be a miracle if girl (b) didn’t delude herself that she was a 7, or maybe even an 8, and behave accordingly. Conversely, there is a good chance girl (a) perceives herself having lower value than she does, because of the paucity of male feedback.

It’s long been a contention of this blog that a girl’s attractiveness level is objectively self-evident; that is, that girls intuitively know what their ranking is without men to offer feedback. They have mirrors after all. But because the female mind is a mushily pliable organ, and because so much of the female prefrontal cortex is immersed in the job of spinning self-delusions (spin hamster spin!), it stands to reason that a modern, technological context — within which instafame and the amplified sexual barter that flow from it are only a click away — could conceivably sever the holy link between mirror and female self-assessment.

There is evidence that this is happening today in the West on a scale unknown in all of history. Thanks to Facebook and all the online dating sites, women are the recipients of more male flattery and solicitude (however insincere or inept) than they know what to do with, and this is as true for the hotties as it is for the middling plain janes. (The ugly girls continue to find no relief in the celebritizing factory of the internet; their parched romantic ostracism remains intractable.) The result of this massive, all-encompassing meddling with the gluttonous female ego will be a dark pink world of entitled, demanding princesses holding unrealistic standards and bullet point checklists a mile long.

A woman come of age in this world is a ravenous beast who has had a tube of sunshine shoved up her asshole and an IV of Megan Fox attitude pumping her full of unicorn rainbow buttercup gas.

What sane man would want to deal with that?

Enter game. How do you handle a woman who thinks she is God’s gift to men?

You knock her bloated opinion of herself down a few notches.

And how do you do this?

You qualify her. You make demands of her. You extract compliance from her. You tease her. You neg her. You deny her expectations until her lust is so overpowering you may as well have paralyzed her with your supersecret magnum look.

In other words, you flip the seduction script so that she is chasing you.

Old-fashioned men who speak in stentorian tones about a man’s duty to god, family, country and his obligation to resist the pull of degenerate hedonism cannot fathom this steely-eyed view of seduction and women and why it is more necessary now than ever. It is all Greek to them. “Too late to start the training…”

The fame laboratory that is the internet has produced a generation of women high on themselves. Has there ever been a time when the neg — also formally known as the backhanded compliment — was more suited for the social milieu in which it operates than now? Obesity is to blame for game, yes, but now we can add another variable to the cause of the rise of game: online dating and social network sites. Want a recipe for maximizing marginally attractive women’s egos and fueling their self-delusions about their sexual worth? Combine an ever-fattening female population with the attention whoring of online social networking, mix liberally with desperately horny men latching onto any semi-slender chick, and you’ve got a dating scene that mercilessly cuts betaboys off at the knees and rewards the biggest jerks who are expert at pinpricking those inflated ego balloons.

If present trends are future projections, this crisis of the expanding female ego + waistline is only going to get worse. It is easy to foresee a toxic dating environment where the majority of girls — marbled throughout with chubsters — become unapproachable, ballbusting bitches who retreat to the reassuring confines of the online dating sites, Facebook, blogs and news magazines when their egos suffer a minor setback in the field.

*Field -noun
1. the world formerly known as real life; a world characterized by living, breathing humans aware of subtle changes in tone and facial expression.
2. a world notably free of duckbill poses.

Here is a prediction: the more women organize their lives around Facebook and online dating, the harder it will be to game them in real life. And the uglier that women get in body and soul, the more they will turn to the internet for their flattery fix. It’s a vicious feedback loop. You see, real life has some big disadvantages. One, it’s not as good at hiding physical flaws. Two, it’s an uncontrolled environment.

On Facebook, chicks can manage their human interactions with the precision of a German machinist. Every picture, every word, every like or dislike, the timing of replies and the length of ASCII conversations — all are under the user’s complete control in the virtual world. The uncertainties of fleshly communication, with its judging eyes scanning bodies top to bottom and its unexpected quips that shatter expectation, are rendered obsolete. In the electronic social networking world, the woman and her prerogatives are preeminent.

There is one countermeasure that can keep this growing monster in check: face to face interaction. Only when the 4s, 5s and 6s confront the vicious reality of men ignoring them in clubs and at parties for the hotter, skinnier babes, will we see their egos fall back to earth (and concurrently, their personalities improve). This is a call to arms. Men need to walk away from Facebook and online dating sites and force these chicks back into the harsh Klieg lights of the primal mating field where the frontlines of cold, pitiless judgement are everywhere. It is as much a man’s destiny to humble women as it is to build civilizations.

Want to intrigue a girlfriend until her love for you is all-consuming? Stay off Facebook. Refuse to abide her Craven New World.

A brutally long, hard economic contraction might restabilize the dating market. How ironic, given that our current troubles are largely the result of handing women the vote.

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Gaming Asian Girls

An anonymous reader with yellow fever emails:

Dear Chateau,

I was reading your post about when not to use game (game = no no for 4s and under) when I remembered seeing about two posts with a herb and its asian girlfriend.

Would you say that one shouldn’t use game on Asians?

Or would what I thought might be a pattern, be a small coincidence that means nothing whatsoever?

First, a clarification. The necessity of game is less a function of the race or absolute beauty ranking of the girl you are gaming than it is a function of the girl’s self-perceived ranking relative to your ranking, and of the amount of times (and how recently) in her life she has been hit on by men. So a princessified American 4 who fancies herself a 6 will require gaming if you are a 6, but will need little gaming if you are an 8. A 2 will need game if you are a 3, but not if you are a 7. A 6 who has been hit on by thousands of horny men because she lives in a city with a skewed sex ratio will not only require game to get in her pants, but will demand it, and this will be true for all men except those at the very highest rank.

Note that since women date up, in practice most girls will require game. Few men will be of sufficiently higher ranking than the women they meet to afford a pickup strategy that eschews game. The only real world cases that come to mind of men who don’t need any game are high social status semi-famous guys who consistently shoot low. A male 9 (within his milieu) is not going to need game if he makes it a habit of seducing only 5s and 6s. In fact, game will actually hurt his chances with low hanging pussy fruit. But once that male 9 starts aiming for female 8s and 9s, he’s going to find out the limits of his pickup prowess very quickly. 8s and 9s won’t tolerate much beta behavior from any man, even male 9s and 10s.

The point is moot, since no sane man with a discriminating penis would bother putting the work in to seduce 4s and under. The dirty little secret is that the ugly among us — the 4s and lower — pretty much hook up by catalytic reaction, involving lots of liquor, desperation, low impulse control and vision impairment.

You would think that Asians (well, Asian-Americans at any rate), being a race of women reputedly more materialistic and pragmatic in disposition than white or black women and thus given to assigning higher value to beta patronage, would respond favorably to straight up traditional courtship, but this is a myth. While Asian chicks in general are choosier about when, how much, and to whom to dispense their goodies, they love game just as much as any broad with a working vagina. The difference between seducing Asian chicks and women of other races is one of degree rather than kind.

Furthermore, and in support of the general thesis, let the record show that the hotter the Asian girl the harder you will have to game her. Hot chicks are the same everywhere — their stock is high and they know it. I remember going on a date with an Asian 8.5 thinking it would be a cakewalk (because of the dynamic I note below), only to discover that my lackadaisical non-game cost me a second date with her. The buddy who introduced me to her later remarked that I “hadn’t teased her enough”. I don’t date many Asians (they don’t enthrall me like they do the typical white herb) so that failure was a learning experience. The next Asian girl I met I gamed the shit out of — as hard as I would any sluttastic white chick. I think I even called her “dragon lady”, though she was born in America. We ended up in bed on the second date, her finger finding its way into my arsehole during sex. (Asian girls are fascinated by the anus.)

There is one glaring refinement to the above generalization, and that is the white man-Asian girl dynamic. For HBD-related reasons beyond the scope of this blog post, the white man who isn’t a complete loser can score typical Asian chicks in the 5 to 7 range with relative ease. This is not true for any other interracial match-up. Even black guys have to tone down their natural assertiveness and run a tamer version of direct game to get with white chicks of any value. (Note: Disgustingly sloppy, fat, Walmartian white whales do not qualify as having “any value”. Size, shape, color and texture must resemble the gracile antelope grazers rather than the lumbering megafauna.)

Thus we see the phenomenon of white herbs focusing like laser beams on every semi-cute Asian chick within their field of operation. Every man alive will take the pussy path of least resistance when it is available, and this rule is no different for lumpy white herbs and their starstruck Asian groupies. But the Asian girls who are 8s and above are still off-limits to the herbs.

PS: I’ve been noticing a lot more white man-black woman couples lately. Based on looks alone, the men were a mixed bag. Many of the black girls were attractive, and they were of varying skin hues, from creamy mocha to purple black. More than a few of the women looked like African immigrants. One thing all the black girls of these interracial couples had in common: they were slender. Not a fatass in the bunch.

Perhaps this points to a trend of some white men getting fed up with the entitlement complexes of white women and sacrificing their natural attraction for white girl features for the… better attitudes of black girls.

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