It’s A Trap!

Reader PA posed the following game-related scenario:

Here is a shit test I have no idea how to answer: when a woman makes a self-deprecating remark about her own looks. This happened to me twice in very recent past, and I just smiled and said nothing, but there probably is a better response.

Those weren’t young hotties you need to nuclear-neg, nor ugly women you kind of feel sorry for. Both were very attractive (for their age), older than me.

Not trying to game them or anything, just wanting to keep good relations (work, extended social life) and gina-tingle is how you keep good relations with women. Got a good response?

Ah, the classic passive-aggressive self-deprecation shit test. Be careful, men, this is an advanced form of female game that is subtle enough to trip up even the most battle-worn players. Answer this one wrong and you might be staring down the barrel of a pouty face for weeks to come.

Broadly speaking, there are five more or less effective ways to answer the self-deprecation shit test (SDST):

1. Validate her. “No, you don’t have crows’ feet. You have great skin. You’re gorgeous.”
2. Playfully invalidate her. “Oh yeah, your crows’ feet are HUGE. Like, you have the grand canyon of crows’ feet. A murder of crows has set up shop on your face, pooping and pecking all over you!”
3. Tangentially agree. “Oh, well, life can be tough.”
4. Ignore her. See: PA’s response. Abruptly changing the subject works too.
5. Reframe. “Have you always been this vain?”

The five responses above all have their pros and cons, but some are more pro than con. The validation tactic of number one should be avoided with any woman you have been dating/banging/betrothed to for less than six months. Validation is the easy peasy lemon squeezy cop-out for uncreative betas with fear in their hearts. Remember that the primary purpose of the female shit test is to suss out beta fear of loss. A woman wants to know that if she pushes too far, you would be willing to dump her in 30 seconds no looking back, with or without the heat coming around the corner. Sure, she may not want to be dumped, but she tingles when the threat of a dumping is real. So if you validate a woman her poofy head hamster will rationalize that you are merely placating her to avoid losing out on her golden pussy (or her social approval). This is seriously the way women think. I know, it’s crazy, but you work with what’s put before you. The only scenario in which I would counsel validation as an effective response to the SDST is when the man has established his alpha bonafides with the woman, and they have been together for longer than six months. It is not unusual for a longtime wife, let’s say, to begin harboring doubts about her continued attractiveness to her husband, especially if said husband has recently gotten a promotion and a new fresh-faced secretary to go along with it. In such cases, the SDST is a genuine cry for confidence-boosting flattery. Give it to her, and then followup with a playful buttsmack and a cocky “And let’s keep your ass that way”.

Option two, the playful invalidation, is perfect for women in their prime. The most sexually valuable women (age: 15 – 25, BMI 17 – 23) will toss out SDSTs for one reason only — to test your alpha mettle. They crave the non-standard response, and will light up if you exaggeratedly agree with them. A couple of caveats: One, don’t try this if you haven’t yet mastered the art of spite-free teasing. I’ve seen too many hard-up men look to teasing banter as the holy grail of game, only to fumble during the execution as their years of bitterness bubble to the surface, polluting their body language and subtext with the stink of beta. Two, don’t playfully invalidate a girl who is as bad as, or worse than, her self-deprecating remarks. If a fat chick says “I’m too fat”, then a teasing “Oh yeah, you’re HUGE like well-fed walrus” will crush her soul, no matter how obvious your eyeroll. Unless your intention is to crush her soul. Not that I would condone such a thing. *angel halo*

Option three, tangential agreement, is the courtier’s sophisticated form of withering contempt. Sometimes the deepest cuts are made with the blade sheathed. Just a glint of the ivory handle will deliver the message. If you want to hurt a woman playing these SDST games, this is the way to go. I wouldn’t advise option three if you are trying to get in her pants, unless you suspect she is a masochistic chick who craves the loving ministrations of a straight up asshole. See: Any lawyer chick.

Option four, ignoring her, is a safe bet when you are stuck for words or caught off guard. It won’t wow her, but more importantly it won’t make you sound beta. For most men, that would be an accomplishment. Remember, too, that abruptly changing the subject is a perfectly reasonable ploy to shake off the rattle of an SDST. Abrupt subject changes may strike the male ear as inherently illogical and nefarious, but the female ear hears the world differently. An abrupt subject change is just an excuse for more YAY DRAMA. In fact, it is the prerogative of the alpha male to change subjects. Who else is gonna do it?

Option five, the reframe, is, as most of you have guessed, my personal favorite. Not only does it expertly shake off an SDST bomb, but it puts her on the defensive and let’s her know you don’t approve of such typical female game-playing. A woman on the defensive, cowering before a stronger and more willful man, is a woman crouched in tingle mode, ready to give birth to a womb-shaking orgasm. Which brings me to…

Maxim #83: Awareness of a woman’s games is a precision-guided weapon in a man’s arsenal of seduction. Slyly revealing your knowledge of a woman’s obstructive game tactics is like catnip to her pussy.

Maxim #83 is so effective simply because the great majority of men are ignorant of women’s game-playing. Insinuating to a woman playing such games that you know the score will help you stand out from the crowd of sauseeege. Having the balls to call out a woman on her games instead of lamenting about it to buddies during the post-pickup debriefing will earn you the admiration of feminists and normal, healthy women alike.

Read Full Post »

Plausible Deniability

Most horny women will never come right out and ask for sex from their lovers. You will not often hear “Let’s fuck NOW!” or “Do you want to bang?” from your girlfriend, or from many women you are dating throughout your lifetime. A few raunchy broads of questionable virtue will take the initiative dominatrix-style, and you will be pleased by their efforts, but all in all most normal men prefer the coyness of women who relinquish themselves to sex instead of demand it. Truth is, ladies, we find it adorable.

A woman’s need to feel physically desired is stronger than her need for food and shelter on the Vajlovian hierarchy of values. Thus, women tend to avoid outright asking for sex, even when explosively horny, because it sidesteps entirely their prime directive to passively arouse the male to action. But oh how their tingles itch for relief! And so women have devised a complicated system of sexual hints and innuendo that would make a French aristocrat blush with envy. I continue coming across numerous examples of just such scandalous whisperings from the women I meet in my life.

• The Human Meow. This is where a woman will make cute animal noises, similar to bird chirps or meows, to indicate her desire for sex. They will often sound like “Mmm? MmmMMMmmm?” with upturned eyebrows, as if waiting for you to clue in. Naturally, all systems women use to communicate their wish for sex must adhere to the first rule to maintain plausible deniability. So if you call a woman out on her human meows she will deny with the sort of ingenious excuses that so seamlessly blend reality and fantasy. To wit: “If you want sex baby, you could just say so instead of meowing like a hungry cat.” Her: “I was asking if you’d like to make us some green tea!”
• The Telepathic Sex Stare. Half-lidded, lips imperceptibly parted, you wonder if she’s doing an end run around your consciousness and making a direct connection with your hindbrain. Women rarely win staring contests, except when they want sex. Or when they’re accusing you of cheating.
• The Symbolic Suggestion. When a woman suggests “Let’s have the red wine instead of beer” or “Let’s move to the bedroom, it’s sunnier in there” or “Let’s light the candles to save electricity”, it means “Let’s have sex”. “Let’s flush the toilet after a leaving behind a giant deuce” does NOT mean “Let’s have sex”. Learned that the hard way.
• The Unprompted Shoe Removal. Here’s an important tip, gentlemen. When you have brought a girl back to your place or you have gone to hers, pay close attention to how soon she removes her shoes. If she takes hers off quickly upon settling in, you have good chance for intimacy.
• The “Wow, I could use a backrub” Bonk Over The Head. This one is obvious. When she starts rubbing her neck and complaining about her hard day at work, it is NOT your cue to give her an extended backrub that hurts your hands. It IS, however, your cue to give her a two second shoulder grasp, followed immediately by a cupping of her tits from behind. Note: Longtime married men should take into consideration that the wife would really prefer the backrub to sex. Sorry, hubbies. Shoulda listened to me.
• The Aunt Jemima Channeling. Pancakes are no fun without Aunt Jemima’s. “Do you know what would really go great with this new king-sized bed we just bought?” Don’t wait for an answer. She’s not giving it.
• The Snake Hiss. When you come up behind her to scratch her head or briefly rub her shoulder, she’ll inhale an exaggerated hissing sound of pleasure — SSSSSSssssssss — that means she wants more. A lot more.
• The Campbell’s Soup Song. Give your woman a kiss. After the kiss, if she’s still leaning forward with half-closed eyes and saying something like “Mm mm mm, that was good” you can translate that as “Mm mm mm, I need a deep sea drilling.”
• And finally, one of my personal favorites: The “I’m Horny” State of the Union Address. When a girl is superhorny and she just doesn’t have the patience for subtler means of communicating her arousal, she will sometimes stare blankly into space and announce, unceremoniously and without untoward inflection to no one in particular, “I’m horny”. She will say this with a hint of exasperation even, but she will never say it to you directly, even if you are standing one foot in front of her. In that case, she will turn her head 90 degrees to the left and declare her horniness to an invisible audience of psychotherapists. Under no circumstance should you respond “You are?” This will kill her horniness faster than a weeping beta with a microchub. Don’t grab her right away either. Wait a minute to grant her a plenury indulgence from her brazen suggestiveness, and then pounce. Skip foreplay. You’ll discover upon first grasp an angry swollen river of passion already swallowing your kayak whole.

Read Full Post »

Chicks Dig Jerks: A Series

Every once in a while, when I sense the white knighting idealism beginning to take a stronger toehold on the thinking of some of my readers, I like to offer helpful reminders about the true nature of the creatures they are doomed to forever misunderstand.

In today’s special edition, a Seattle 19 year old pimp legally named Deshawn Cashmoney Clark was convicted for running a prostitution ring (hat tip: reader Master Dogen). This is not the most humorously banal angle of the story, though. No, the really SHOCKING, HEAVEN FORFEND surprise is how his harem of hookers is sticking by this uber-asshole’s side.

When that teen left the area in early 2008, Clark took up with a then-15-year-old girl he’d also met while attending school in West Seattle.

The two had been dating for several months when Clark propositioned her, demanding that she “walk the track” on Pacific Highway South and solicit payment for sex. While she did so, Clark would monitor her earnings by cell phone.

“If he felt that she was taking breaks unnecessarily, he yelled at her to get back out on the track and make him some money,” O’Donnell said in court documents. “At the end of each day, he returned to pick her up and took the money she had earned.”

The girl had run away from home while working for Clark, O’Donnell told the court. In one instance, the girl’s mother believed she had located her daughter. Instead, she found Clark, who, with a smile, issued her a warning.

“You will never find her,” Clark said, according to court documents. “I’ve got her so tight. She’s all mine.”

That girl — tattooed in Clark’s honor with the words “daddy’s little girl” — continued to support Clark throughout his trial, even as he married another woman.

Cashmoney wasn’t bluffing. He had her locked down, because she *wanted* to be locked down by him. This is a revelation about the female mind that escapes the logical thinking of so many men — why would a woman want to be with a man like Cashmoney? Why would any woman willingly offer herself as a rentable hole to a man hawking her goods to streetside bidders? Because women want to submit to a powerful man. Whether that power comes in the form of a crooning emo rock star, a CEO, or a pimp daddy with fists of fury doesn’t matter. All that matters is the male power, and the tingly feeling of submitting — wholly, completely — to that power. Every woman, deep DEEP inside, wants to be “daddy’s little girl”.

One admitted pimp and Street Mobb member, Mycah Johnson, described learning how to manipulate and intimidate young women from Clark.

“‘Cash’ showed me how to be a pimp,” Johnson wrote the court. “He would tell me where I should have (her) work and would explain how to use Craigslist to post her ads. He told me how to manage (her), specifically with respect to the money she earned — I was to keep all of it.”

Betas everywhere would do well to read the life stories of pimps. They have some useful advice. Naturally, the anti-game crowd will squawk “oh but these women were being manipulated!” They love that word manipulate. Cling to it like a newborn chimp to its mother’s furry belly. So much can be dismissed for consideration by shotgunning that word “manipulation” into any conversation about men and women they find distasteful. Unfortunately for them, it isn’t as readily dismissible as all that. Like hypnosis, you can only manipulate those who are manipulable. Those who, at some level, wish for the manipulation because they enjoy it. It is for this reason that the term manipulation is next to useless — apply a broad enough definition and you indict any goal-oriented communication as “manipulation”. Seduction? Manipulation. Sales? Manipulation. Politics? Manipulation. Convincing a buddy to see a great movie you just saw? Manipulation. No, Cashmoney’s honeys craved his manipulation. It TURNED THEM ON. How would he and his brethren pimps otherwise know how to “handle” women in the prime of their marketability? He knew because the evidence was staring him in the face — women who would fall for him, screw him, defend him, and yes… even love him.

The cries of “manipulation” ring louder. “Those women didn’t know what was happening to them!”, they will scream. Right-o. Funny thing is, the world is full to brimming with lovelorn betas attempting to manipulate women into sex and running headlong into a major road blockage. Their manipulations aren’t working. Some manipulations are clearly more effective than other manipulations. And which ones would those be? Well, the manipulations that turn women on!

Addressing North, defense attorney Alfoster Garrett, Jr., argued that, while his client profited from prostituting the teens, they were willing participants in the scheme.

Describing Clark as a “scapegoat,” Garrett noted that his client was 16 or 17 during at the time he was accused of prostituting the other youths.

This is one of those few times I agree the defense attorney has it exactly right. What else do you call an employee of Clark’s who cheers him on in court except a willing participant in his lifestyle and chosen career? Who you gonna believe, your lying eyes or a bunch of sociology trained femtards? It’s time to reform the law. Yes, as ringleaders and the administers of violence, pimps are more culpable than their whores, but whores share some of the blame. A fair justice system would punish all parties involved.

While he their circumstances may have made them susceptible to the pimp, Clark’s upbringing set him on a path to crime.

“He is a product of his environment,” Garrett said, asking that Clark receive an exceptionally short sentence.

Actually, his genes set him on his path of procuring limitless loyal poon. His environment only greased the skids.

North rejected the contention that the teens’ former involvement in prostitution evidenced a desire to continue in that life.

“I don’t find that the victims were willing participants,” North said. “It’s a complex relationship not unlike a domestic violence situation.”

Paging Rihanna. Still nurture pangs of love for your past lover Chris Brown, don’t you babe? I know, I understand. CH is here. No judgment. Pour out your heart. I won’t bite. Much.

North’s decision to impose the 17-year term followed a plea by Clark’s 19-year-old wife, Julata Clark.

Julata Clark, who gave birth to Deshawn Clark’s second child weeks before he was sentenced, said her husband is young and able to change his life.

The hilarity train keeps on rolling. Hey, Cashmoney had family values. The guy got married! Gotta love a wife with two kids storming court to support her husband’s pimping, carousing, and general assholery to the nth degree.

And society’s gotta love that this guy, at the ripe age of 19, already pumped out a couple of spawn while MBA toting 30 year olds examine their stock portfolios to gauge whether now is the right time to have that first autistic, underweight baby.

A parting thought. Owing to the rank stupidity or, more generously, the willful misinterpretation, of a minority of my readers who can’t wrap their minds around the simple concept of is-ought and who fervently believe (or secretly wish) my posts detailing in loving glory how much chicks dig jerks is tantamount to advocating every man set himself on the path of pimpdom, let me remind you that I am merely a courier of reality. I tell you how it is; what you do with that knowledge is up to you. The Pimp’s Way holds much truth about the nature of women in their fertile prime from which the average law-abiding man can personally benefit, but that truth does not need to come delivered in the same package to be effective in your own lives. You grasp the truth, and then you apply it to yourself and your dealings with women in the way that is most congruent with your values.

And to the all-too-predictable choir of cliche-spouters: No shit not *every* woman likes assholes. Do I need to put that addendum after every fucking sentence I write, or are you capable of discerning the all too obvious subtext? Here are my thoughts on the phenomenon of chicks digging jerks:

• Like most things about human nature, the female asshole-loving urge runs along a bell curve. To the far left we have women who would have nothing to do with assholes. To the far right we have Cashmoney’s honeys. Bunched in the middle are most women, who despite their protestastions to the contrary get tingly for an asshole, but won’t see it all the way to shacking up with a pimp.
• So many overaged yentas write to me telling me indignantly how they despise assholes and would never do what the girls featured in my posts do. I don’t have reason to doubt them… much, but I would remind them that the types of women who are most fond of assholes are exactly those women men most desire — that is to say, the young, supple babes with sex in their eyes and femininity in their souls. As women age out of attractiveness, they also (coincidentally!) age out of their attraction for assholes. Which brings me to…
• Maxim #71: In their sexual primes women’s attraction for assholes is at its strongest. You can catch a lot of hungry flies with honey, but shit attracts the most well-fed flies.

Tune in next week for another edition of “WOW, that’s news to me!”

Read Full Post »

A Reader’s Field Report

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read Full Post »

The Story Of A Man Who Refused To Buy A Girl A Drink

Reader Matt forwarded me the following Craigslist posting:

***

Why I Didn’t Buy You a Drink – m4w – 22 (Downtown)

You: Cute girl at the bar.
Me: The guy you chatted with while waiting for our drinks.
The Topic: Why I didn’t buy you a drink.
The Audience: Women everywhere, please read this. I know it’s long, but I feel the length is expedient to truly illustrating and arguing my point.

I was waiting to order right as things were getting crazy. It was obvious that it would be a long wait. What can I say? I can’t compete with all the douches yelling for jager bombs. It was then that you appeared. A cute, petite, slightly hipster-ish girl standing next to me, waiting to order as well. The conversation began in the typical manner, simply relating on how frustrating it is when you spend half a night out just waiting for a drink. It then evolved into a true conversation. I spent the next twenty minutes finding out you have great taste in music, movies and literature. You laughed at my jokes, and that’s a big deal to average-looking guys like me.
Unfortunately, after we’d both finished our respective drinks, but were still immersed in discussion, you dropped a bomb that sent shrapnel into my heart.

“So are you gonna buy me a drink or what?”

I had been dreading this moment. I’ve learned from hard experience that any prolonged conversation with a girl at a club or a bar inevitably requires a fee of rum and coke, vodka tonic, or God forbid, a cosmo. As cute as you were, I felt obligated to retain my self-respect.

“Sorry, I don’t buy girls drinks. Just kind of my policy.”

You looked at me like I told you I was going to rape your dog Charlie (yes, I remember his name). Your face morphed from a beautiful smile into a twisted caricature of shock, revulsion, and utter disbelief.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna buy me a drink? What’s your problem?”

Well sweetheart, let me explain to you in detail my logic regarding this decision that you found so unbelievable:

1. I’ve been going to bars for a couple of years now. I enjoy meeting people when I do. I enjoy meeting attractive girls like yourself. I have, however, learned that buying girls drinks is a sucker’s game. Yes, it has developed into sharing my bed for the night a couple times, but 90% of the time, all it does is give me a higher bar tab. Now you might say I’m a prick for expecting a girl to sleep with me just because I buy her a drink. I agree an $8 cocktail does not and should not equal a sexual encounter. However, I believe spending time and money on a girl when I could be having a good night out with my friends does entitle me at least one of the following things: You reciprocating by buying me a drink, you giving me your phone number and/or going out on a date with me, where once again I will be spending time and money on you. Notice that sex is not a requirement or expectation that is coupled with any of these options. Now, of course, if I had offered to buy you a drink, and you accepted, you are not obligated to any of these things. The big distinction here is that you asked me to buy you a drink, and were shocked that I wouldn’t do so. This brings me to my second point.

2. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re an attractive girl, and when you go out there is no shortage of guys offering to buy you drinks. You know that they are all doing so with the hope that it will lead to sex with you. You know that it’s not going to happen, but you will accept the free drinks anyway. I don’t hold this against you. If they’re dumb enough to think that buying you a drink is the key to your heart and that they are somehow different from the other Ed Hardy-wearing frat-bros then it’s their own damn fault. You’re using your god-given assets to get free alcohol, nothing wrong with that. But it is precisely because I know that you do this that I will not be another douche who thinks he can get into your pants with a mixed drink. It’s insulting to my dignity as a man and your honor as a woman. I noticed you when you first walked in. I saw you dancing with that hopeless collar-popper. I saw him go to the bar and bring a drink back to you on the dancefloor. I saw how the second the glass was in your hand, you gave him the “Thanks for the drink, it was really nice meeting you” treatment complete with the obligatory pat on the chest. I saw the pathetic, defeated look on his face as you walked away. He will enter the next round of bar hopping a little wiser I hope.

3. You took my unwillingness to fall into such a trap as an insult. You accused me of being stuck-up. You then said that I had a chance at fucking you, but that I’d ruined it by being an asshole. What exactly are you trying to tell me? That the asinine idea that getting a girl a drink will get you in her pants is actually true? That your decision of whether or not to sleep with a guy is based on him liquoring you up? We had a good conversation, and maybe you were actually interested in me. But the fact that any rapport we built was destroyed when I wouldn’t buy you a gin and tonic means that I am no longer interested in you. Not all guys are desperate sperm donors. Some of us actually value a good conversation, and we value girls who have enough respect for themselves that they don’t view sex as a transaction.

4. We established during our conversation that we are both broke-ass fine arts students. Why then would you expect that I, someone who shares your financial woes, would want to spend money on you, a girl I just met? I don’t believe that chivalry is dead. I’ll hold a door for you, I’ll pull out your chair or take your coat. I’ll help you change a flat tire, carry you over deep puddles, figure out the remote, reset your modem. I’ll even help you move when I know you a little better. Why? Because I’m a gentleman. I will not, however, buy you a drink under the pretense that it is what a gentleman does, because I simply cannot afford it. If you want a guy who can afford to buy you whatever you want, find a fifty year-old sugar daddy. There was no shortage of potentials at the bar the other night.

I hope this illustrated my thought-process clearly enough. I hope you realize that you seemed amazing at first, and that declining to buy you a drink was in no way an insult. Your reaction, however, revealed the self-entitled, game-playing she-devil that was lurking underneath. I thank god for the out that he provided at that moment though. Just after you finished your little rant on what I dick I was for not boozing you up, a group of girls emerged at the bar right behind you. Two of these girls were thin and pretty. They immediately got the attention of some bros and had free drinks within minutes. The third girl was overweight and out of place. She had clearly spent a great deal of time and effort on her appearance, but alas, she was once again forsaken by her prettier friends and left to stand by herself, looking miserable. Luckily, I know when the universe has given me a profound gift. There were two incredible moments that filled me with an elation that could not be rivaled by the orgasm I would have had while fucking you. The first was the sincere, excited smile that the chubby girl gave me when I moved past you and asked what she wanted to drink. The second was turning back and seeing the look of horror on your face. You pathetic “have fun with the fatty” remark as you walked away was priceless. I may be broke, but I was willing to go into the red to make this girl’s night and to piss you off. I’m sure as soon as you left you got plenty of free drinks and plenty of idiots drooling over you. I just hope that I got under your skin enough to prevent any enjoyment of those things.

I had a great night. I introduced the big girl to an open-minded friend, and as I write this they are across the hall having loud sex. Normally going to bed alone, subjected to the sounds of raucous lovemaking across the hall would be a serious downer. But tonight, as I crawl into my lonely bed, I will go to sleep comforted by the fact that I have retained my self-respect. Having encountered more than a few spoiled bimbos, I infer that sex with you would have consisted of you lying on your back expecting me to be so grateful that I’m seeing your “hot” naked bod makes up for the fact that you are putting absolutely no effort into this sexual experience. This may just be me trying to justify going to bed alone tonight, but hey, what can you do?

The moral: Ladies, accept drinks if they are offered. Do not expect them. And if you’re feeling particularly wild on a given night, offer to buy the guy a drink. He will be instantly smitten.

***

I applaud this man for sticking to his principles. There is no doubt now about the uselessness of buying girls you haven’t yet slept with *anything* at all, let alone drinks. The knowledge is out there, and only a very foolish or deluded man would ignore this sage advice.

A few things to note about the drink-buying problem:

1. Look at it as a shit test. If a girl is asking you to buy her a drink she is hoping to get you to reveal your inner beta and thus make her job of deciding whether to sleep with you much easier. Girls are designed by Mother Gaia to root out a man’s hidden beta as quickly as possible so that they may then move on to locating and banging genuine alpha males. After all, to a woman, time is the enemy. Those burgeoning wrinkles don’t wait for anyone.

2. If your game is good enough, you can afford to buy a girl a drink without incurring a sexual cost. I have occasionally bought girls drinks when I knew they were already attracted to me. This is personal preference, and dependent upon how likely you think a few drinks will loosen her up for sex that same night.

3. Even if you are rich and an $8 drink does not bother you, in general practice you should refrain from throwing your money around on free drinks for inquisitive women. One, it does not get you any closer to your goal (in fact, it probably pulls you farther away), and two, it poisons the pussy well for future men when the self-entitled princess you just created with your freewheeling spending lives her days out expecting free drinks from every other man she meets. If you are filthy rich, then go ahead and buy her an island and forget about learning game… until she hires Antonio the poolboy.

4. If a girl you just met is bold enough to ask you “So are you gonna buy me a drink or what?”, it means she is not attracted to you and does not respect you as a man. A woman who is attracted in a sexual way to you will also have feelings of respect for you. She will not risk blowing up the rapport and possible future dates by uttering a clumsy, socially retarded question like that.

The man in the above story answered the girl in an effective manner. He was straightforward and lacking in any anger. His fortuitous followup with the fat chick was also a nice touch, though it would have been better for him had he done the same thing with a hotter girl. That way, he could have humiliated the first girl while giving himself a shot at scoring with an even hotter chick. The problem with using a fat chick as a drink-buying prop is that you then have to deal with entertaining her because she thinks you like her. Notice how our intrepid hero wrote that he quickly introduced the fat girl to an “open-minded friend”. I know he was trying to make a valiant reframe in the off chance that the first girl would read his CL posting, but let’s face it, open-mindedness is not the air traffic controller for the boner. To fat chicks everywhere: If you are banging a man who is seemingly out of your league, it’s not because he’s open-minded, it’s because he’s scared to shoot for better looking girls. Or he’s slumming it until something better comes along. Those last ten dates were indoors, out of the public eye, correct?

One other thing. If a girl for whom you refuse to buy a drink says to you “You had a chance at fucking me, but you ruined it by being an asshole” a good response is “Who said you had a chance with me?” Another good one: “Are you the lotto?”

Read Full Post »

Better A Bold Jerk Than A Diplomatic Niceguy

Scene: You’re at a bar with your girlfriend and one of her female friends. It’s just past dusk and the crowd is small. Your girlfriend is animatedly talking with her friend while you are holding court with some cute girl sitting across the bar, shouting jokes back and forth at each other and with the bartender. You are mentally and groinally stimulated by the sight of the new girl and the fleeting thoughts that pollute your brain of seeing her naked. An hour later, the new girl walks over and sits right beside you on an adjacent bar stool, on the side of you that is facing away from your girlfriend and her friend. The new girl leans into your ear and quietly asks if the girl you came with is your girlfriend. You are able to answer her out of earshot of your girlfriend.

Which of the following answers is most likely to earn the respect of the new girl?

a. “Yes, she is my girlfriend.” Firmly said.

b. “No, she’s not my girlfriend.” A lie, but still firmly said.

c. “Um, yeah sorta, we’ve been dating. Not sure how serious it is.” You hesitate for a pregnant second before answering somewhat sheepishly, hoping that your diffidence will leave the door open for further pursuit and possible hooking up with the new girl.

Second question. Which of the above answers is most likely to earn the gina tingle of the new girl?

First, the answer to the second question is the same as the answer to the first question. A woman’s respect is identical to her sexuality, for a woman will feel no lust for a man she does not respect, and she will feel no respect, in anything but the most abstractly and pointlessly arid way, for a man she does not desire.

Even if (c) is the closest answer to the truth, it is the farthest answer from what you think will help you fulfill your goal. If it is clandestine banging with fresh meat* you want, you will have more success answering (a) or (b) than you would equivocating your way through answer (c). For it is not the truth value of a statement that alerts a woman’s nether furrow that she is in the company of a man with an RSVP to her womb, but rather the boldness with which the statement is delivered.

The above sounds counterintuitive to some of you. I know, because for the longest while, it did to me. How can telling an interested and curious new girl that your company is your lover move you any closer to a tryst than hinting to her that your company knows you in a complicated way but you are essentially open to cheating?

Maxim #856: Swear by the HipandCooter oath: First, use no logic.

Please set aside your woefully inadequate male logic when attempting to predict the direction of a woman’s rationalization hamster. That little critter will always razzle dazzle your feeble efforts. You must think like the hamster if you want to influence the hamster. Be the hamster. The wheel is waiting.

Let’s examine each answer in detail.

a. “Yes, she is my girlfriend.”

Don’t for a minute think this closes the door to a future rendezvous. Since when have proclamations of fidelity by an alpha male, on their own, ever stopped a woman from pursuing her desire for him? No, the man himself, by his actions, must stay her hand and steady her flirtations. See: Tiger Woods. A man must, in other words, direct and lead not only his own actions, but the actions of the women in his orbit. A simple declaration that he has a girlfriend, curt and perfunctory, will only fuel a woman’s desire for him if his words are belied by his seductively charming warm smile and teasing banter. As all good seducers know, such unspoken mixed signals are the match to a woman’s tinderbox. Hypocrisy is the tribute vice pays to virtue, and rationalization is the tribute guilty ginas pay to alpha cock.

b. “No, she’s not my girlfriend.”

Girls don’t like men who lie. Except when they do like them. Moral of the story? Don’t worry so much about not lying. Concern yourself first with winning a woman’s attraction. She’ll rationalize away the lies in the post-coital glow. If, after you have lied, you are later caught snuggling with your girlfriend in the bar, you have just upped your chances of bedding the inquisitive new girl.

c. “Um, yeah sorta, we’ve been dating. Not sure how serious it is.”

And here we arrive at the most beta answer. What you think she hears: “Hey, I’m dating someone super casual-like but I’m not sure she’s ‘the one’. Which means I’m totally available for dating you.” Sounds like a winning answer, eh Lothario? What she actually hears: “I’m a wishy-washy beta who’s dating a girl out of convenience and I’m hoping you could be the next girl I date out of convenience.”

It is said of blind patriots that they follow “my country, right or wrong.” Well, for women, it’s “my alpha, right or wrong.” And what is a defining characteristic of alphaness? Boldness. Women love bold men, right or wrong. Women hate squirrelly men, like a man who would hesitate before weakly and apologetically confirming that the girl sitting right next to him is indeed his girlfriend. Boldness does not necessarily mean abandoning those other alpha traits that women so love, such as sly ambiguity and evocative mystery. But it does mean making sure you are never caught with the cat firmly holding your tongue.

*Diablo reference.

Read Full Post »

The Dark Lord

Damian called me for some advice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me: I give it 70-30 she does.

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

Me: That’s a yes.

Damian: You think so?

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

Damian: What should I say to that?

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

Damian: Good… OK, done.

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

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

Me: Godspeed.

Damian: You truly are the Dark Lord.

Me: And you, my mortal avatar.

Read Full Post »