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Archive for the ‘Girls’ Category

If you observe your girlfriend doing any of these things you had better be formulating contingency plans.

  • She compares you to her girlfriends’ boyfriends.

If you start hearing things from her like “Oh, Sara told me Heath — btw, don’t you think Heath is such a dreamy name for a man? — recently got back from an overseas trip where he played golf with the Dalai Lama. Isn’t that amazing?!” you are in trouble. A woman in love hardly notices your flaws, let alone the exploits or accomplishments of her girlfriends’ men. When a woman is stacking you up, you’ve already come up short.

Solution: Make fun of her. (Really, making fun of a girl is a great solution for just about any occasion). “The Dalai Lama? Wow, Sara must be horrible in bed if she pushed him to become a monk.” Or: “Hey, for our next vacation, I think I’m just gonna lay on the couch all week eating Cheetos. You in?” Whatever you say, don’t make fun of the other man. This is always, however unjustifiably, interpreted by the woman as jealousy.

  • She got a boob job.

Sure, those new melons under a sweater turn you on, but you’ve gotta be aware of the subtext (subbreast?). A girlfriend or wife who randomly decides to take the extreme measure of altering her body parts ostensibly to appeal to you is actually trying to appeal to every man BUT you. The boob job girl is at heart a coldly rational chick who understands well the workings of the sexual market, even if she can’t or won’t articulate the instincts that drive her. She is a visceral status whore who trades in the currency of boobs for bruisers. Caveat: If she gets her synthetic boobs early in the relationship but after she’s fallen in love with you, you may be home free. She’s afraid of losing you to the competition. Worst case scenario: Her boobs were bought by her previous boyfriend. Think about what kind of girl dates guys who would pay to have their girlfriends augmented. I’ll tell you what kind — a girl who views relationships mechanistically, a simple tit for tat. She is a low self-esteem victimologist who doesn’t trust her inner beauty has the power to enthrall a man, and will stop at nothing, including invasive surgery, to maximize her chances of landing and keeping the highest status man possible.

Solution: Don’t be a supportive quisling beta. If her boob job was out of the blue and not at your request, tell her they look nice, but maybe they’re too big for her upper body. Call her “weeble wobble, but they don’t fall down”.

  • She undertakes beautification projects.

Similar to the above, but less the province of the blatantly rational status whore, and harder to recognize the warning signs, a girl who suddenly begins an exercise program or wearing carefully applied makeup or buying new sexy cocktail dresses is prepping herself for a return to the market. You may think she found it in her heart to please you, but you would be deluding yourself. Her biological imperative is manipulating her at the reptilian level to do these things because her womb pulses anew with the desire to be filled by another man’s seed. If she starts saying stuff like “Ugh, don’t kiss me, I just put on lipstick” you’re about to be downsized. A girl who loves you will be happy to receive your kisses whenever you want to give them, and happy to reapply her lipstick without complaint. Caveat: If she begins her beautification project at your insistence, or in reaction to your subtle criticisms or your overt flirtations with better looking women, and you have no doubt she loves you, then encourage her. She will feel desired — she will in fact feel more womanly — that you demand excellence from her.

Solution: This is dangerous territory. The enemy has already breached your frontline defense. You’ll need a two-pronged counteroffensive. One, launch a campaign of subtle, but constant negging. You’ve gotta keep her knocked off balance. Two, commence flirting egregiously with other women. A woman’s battle plan for fresh cock, once  initiated, can only be thwarted by disrupting troop morale. Your job is to remind her, through the actions above, that there is no glory to be found except under rule of your kingship. Take her to your castle balcony and show her the hordes of women streaming from the hinterlands to get through your fortress gate.

  • She bitches at you for minor offenses.

Anytime you notice her aggravation threshold for your antics getting lower, you can bet your bronzed boner that your antics are not the problem — she is annoyed that she no longer feels turned on by you. Women resent men who stop making them horny, in much the same way men resent their wives for getting fat and ruining their sexual experience. Of coures, women are constitutionally incapable of expressing the real reasons for their shriveling libido in your company, so it manifests as a vague annoyance with your tics and quirks that once charmed her pants off.

Solution: Think of everything negative coming out of her mouth as a shit test, and respond as the trained master of muff you are. She’s that little brat you don’t take seriously. Under no circumstance should you attempt to change your quirky habits to placate her; this will only result in more annoyance and more demands for compliance with her ever-growing list of complaints.

  • You’ve caught her in flagrante delicto

Major red flag.

Solution: Laugh at them. It works!

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Time for another colonoscopic glimpse into the fetid bowels of the urban dating scene. This city provides enough material for a book.

Damian: I had a second date with that cute 25 year old chick I was telling you about.

Me: Yeah? How’d this one go?

Damian: After we warmed up a bit, she started talking about the incredible amount of sex she had in high school and college. All the guys she banged and the crazy sex acts she performed, threesomes, public sex, etc. She said she’s pretty sure she was a nympho at age seventeen.

Me: Uh oh. Bad sign.

Damian: Right. That’s what I was thinking. As I’m getting more disgusted and aroused simultaneously, she leans in and tells me “Just to let you know, you shouldn’t bother making a move. You won’t get anywhere. I changed my ways. I’m not going to have sex until I’m married.”

Me: Unbelievable. Is every girl in this city a headcase? Maybe she converted to an orthodox religion or something.

Damian: No, she’s not religious. After she drops that bomb, I stared at her for a few seconds, flabbergasted. There was tension. Then I said “Are you fucking crazy? What makes you think you can pull this shit on a quality guy like myself?” I was pissed.

Me: Wow. So I guess that was it, eh?

Damian: Not yet. She starts tearing up a little. I stand up and tell her I’m going. She asks me if I’m going to get a drink. I say no, I’m leaving. She asks if I’m going home. I say no, I’m not going home, I’m going to a bar to meet up with friends, the night is still young.

Me: I love how she imagines you will go home, alone, with your tail tucked between your legs.

Damian: I put on my coat, wish her good luck on finding someone, and leave. I cross the street and look back… I can see the chairs we were sitting on through the window of the lounge, and she’s still sitting there, holding her drink. This broad drove an hour from out of town to meet me in the city, she clearly went out of her way, she was interested… so I have to ask what’s going through her mind when she tells me sex is off the table? She must be used to dating the herbliest of Herbs who meekly accepted her terms.

Me: The irony here is that she was probably never more turned on than right at that moment when you called her out on her shit. I bet that’s the first time she got wet since she became a born again virgin.

Damian: On the plus side I’m five for five getting girls to drive out of their way to meet me near my place.

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Ex Categories

One of the advantages of having a lot of experience under your belt is the fun you can have amusing yourself by categorizing your exes. And then writing a blog post about it later.

  • Fondly remembered

She was a good girl (rare). She treated you well. She loved you right. But maybe she was a point or two below your beauty ideal, so you left her to hunt for hotter quarry, walking away with nothing but warm memories of her. You miss her in that “wistfully smile thinking of her” way, not in that “gotta get back with her and tap that one more time” way. Normally, we refer to these girls as “former lovers” (you broke up on good terms) or “past lovers” (she moved to another country), not “exes”. Her inner beauty is the standard by which you measure every woman you date.

  • Indifferent

If she’s in your indifferent category, she should consider herself lucky… you won’t stalk her underneath her bedroom window, masturbating furiously. After a few days have passed post-breakup, you’ll be hard pressed to remember the name of a girl in this category. She was nothing more than a vagina supported by a human organism that you pleasured yourself into.

  • Hated Hos

These exes are the ropey tapeworm-infested turds that issued from Satan’s scalding anus. They represented the worst of the modern American woman. Odds are she was a lawyer or PR rep. Your “relationship” with her felt like war, with troops amassed on the field of hate, locked in eternal struggle, gaining or losing inches of emotional territory, a Battle Royale for “hand”. The upside to inspiring your hate is that you learn a valuable lesson from them… namely, how to spot their kind before they “accidentally” leave their earrings at your place. If you post an internet sex vid of an ex, this is the girl you will gleefully dishonor. Consider it proactive karma.

  • Regretfully remembered

You don’t hate these exes, but you wish you hadn’t got involved with them. A girl in this category has left you with a bad taste in your mouth and a rash on your junk. She’s the one you found out later had been with triple digit sex partners before she met you, and probably a few more while you were dating. You’ve caught her flirting with the guy at your favorite fast food joint who prepares your falafel platter, and you wondered what the hell else they had going on. She’s a psycho, a stalker, a slut, a drama queen, a catty backstabber, and a utensil-throwing, suicide-threatening, hey-check-out-my-big-black-dildo, stick-her-finger-up-your-asshole-during-sex whirlwind of whorishness all wrapped up in one. She was good to you on paper, but you couldn’t compete with her id — all she could do was think with her clit. This is the girl who made a confirmed cynic out of you. She is the most likely candidate to wind up a pathetic cougar.

  • That one sex act

Every guy has flashbacks of intense sexual moments with one or more of their exes. Women remember anniversaries, gifts given and received, the color of your shirt when you first kissed her, but we men mostly remember one thing — that time we had you bent over the back of the sofa with your jeans down around your ankles as we were drilling you from behind and watching the whole thing in a floor length mirror nearby. In fact, a man can measure the strength of his love for an ex and how long it will take him to get over her by the number and clarity of sex acts he remembers. The dirty memory of a truly hot ex will give a guy a boner faster than a mediocre looking girl standing right in front of him.

  • The one who got away

Don’t front, tough guy. Every man has that One Girl (or ten girls) Who Got Away, taunting him from the shadows of his past. If you don’t, you haven’t lived. You’ve learned so much from your experience with this one girl, and you’ve become a better man for it, stronger in spirit and resilient in adversity, but… you still wish it hadn’t fallen apart. She is the force of nature against which all future women will compete… and come up short.

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About five years ago I had a two month fling with a young girl. She had a cute face but was a little on the chubby side, probably 15 pounds over ideal female weight for her height. As a result, I didn’t put much effort into dating her, preferring instead to enjoy the easy sex (mostly blowjobs) and being aloof while she chased me. And chase she did. The hard-to-get badboy attitude worked like magic on her because she was a girl of “high primativeness“:

The primativeness correlates more with emotionality than with culture. Instinctive programs, when finding resemblance of internal signaling attributes with some factors of outside situation, create corresponding emotions and a highly primative person gladly submits to them. A low primative person, feeling the same forceful emotions, is capable of acting contrary to them. […]

As was mentioned above, women trust intuition and feelings more than logical conclusions, this composes a so-called woman’s logic. I.e. the highly primative specimens are prevalent among women. […]

There is a widespread opinion among the vulgar public that it is necessary to beat a wife from time to time. By this a husband beating his wife demonstrates kind of high rank (visual, of course). And this can even attract a low cultural woman especially with high primativeness (masochism probably grows on this ground). Such woman rushes to defend her man as soon as the first hair falls down from his head despite asking to punish him only a moment before. Highly cultural and especially low-primative woman will not act this way. And actual rank of this man can be quite low. Even his buddies may have no respect for him. However, it is appropriate to mention that the instinct cannot analyze anything it just reacts on some key attributes, in this case – aweless attitude to a woman (if he beats -> he does not appreciate -> he has many women -> alpha has many women).

Anyhow, I was dating around and eventually grew tired of the drama with this girl. She planted herself on my front stoop one evening waiting for me to get home from work, a delirious look in her eyes. That was the deal killer. I allowed our fling to fizzle out. My tolerance for a girl’s annoying behavior drops with each extra pound she carries.

Fast forward a few years. I was at a party and she was there. She had lost some weight and, naturally, looked better. I geared up to apply a heaping dose of my patented devilish charm. We reminisced, kissed, and met for a date a week later. The date went fine as far as reunion dates go, considering our sexual history, but I could sense she was occupied with more than our conversation. I dropped her off and went home. I texted her a few days later and got no reply. I didn’t pay it much heed or bother following up because I was dating two other women at the time.

Recently, a friend of mine bumped into this girl on the Metro. I had first met her through him, so they knew each other. They chatted and the subject of my reunion date with her came up. She told my friend she stopped “dating” me (in a girl’s world, one date is equivalent to “dating”) because “I only liked her now that she was thin”. Presumably, she thought this meant I wasn’t interested in her true self.

She was right. I wanted to reacquaint myself with her and fuck her because she had lost weight and looked better than before.

Necessary but not sufficient. Women have trouble comprehending this phrase, much like they are born with a mental block making them incapable of grasping the concepts of generalizations and exceptions to the rule.

A hot skinny body and pretty face is necessary for a man to find a woman attractive, but it is not a guarantee for creating a deep love that will last. This girl, like most girls, had an insecure ego-based fear that she was being judged by her looks instead of her more nebulous attributes. Former chubbies are often acutely cognizant of this and consequently harbor tremendous resentment against men and a loathing of male desire. Only a few former chubbies have the open heart and love of men for who they are to avoid spiraling into a lovekilling vengeful trap of anti-male sentiment.

Here is the truth ladies: You ARE being judged primarily on your looks by men who want to fuck you. Get used to it. Your personality is only icing on the cake that matters more when the kinetic fucking turns into relationship potential.

I hope for the sake of her love life that this girl doesn’t carry her fat baggage to the next guy she dates. No man wants to be made to feel guilty for his masculine desire.

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I read this over at the Corner:

Democratic pollster Stanley Greenberg says unmarried women made the difference for Obama. Back in 1994, when white male voters were said to be responsible for the GOP’s takeover of Congress, the media came up with a label for them: “angry white men.” Will the media now refer to Greenberg’s voting bloc as “bitter unmarried women”?

Hilarious and true. The more women get pumped and dumped along their journeys to find the elusive alpha male who will swoon for their fading looks, the more likely they are to vote Democrat.

Obama represents that fantasy alpha male figure they wish would marry them. His leftist policies represent the beta provider largesse they want in lieu of an actual beta husband they secretly loathe.

Maxim #2008: Socialists gain when single women who refuse to settle vote. They lose when single women forget to vote on their way to the mall.

Solution for a stronger America: Distract single women with game and shiny things so they forget to vote.

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Zeets: Hey man, I just got this email from the chick I had a date with last night. Check it out.

Hello. Just a quick e-mail to tell you sorry, but I’m just not interested. Thank you for that show of immaturity in my car yesterday, it solidified my decision.

I wish you the best of luck in finding someone.

–L.

Me: What show of immaturity is she talking about?

Zeets: I stuck out my tongue and flicked it in and out like a snake. How is that immature? A new post?

Me: Yes, a new post.

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Sarcasm Is Unfeminine

I had the following conversation with “Hal’.

Me: How goes the dating circuit?

Hal: That abrasive girl called me back. Her sarcasm is really grating.

Me: What was it this time?

Hal: She asked me what I did this past weekend. So I told her I went to a Civil War reenactment, and she was like [Hal affected a drippingly caustic tone of voice] “Oh GOD, don’t tell me you were one of those guys who dresses up in the uniform and everything. That’s SOO sexy.”

Me: It’s SOO sexy when girls talk like that.

Hal: It’s unfeminine. It doesn’t make me want to have sex with her, I can tell you that. I explained that I went to watch and learn some history, but she kept being sarcastic. She can’t turn it off. I mean, I know she likes me since she called me, but she can’t talk like a normal human being for one second.

Me: What happened next?

Hal: So I said “Well, what did you do this weekend? Yoga book club? Rescue an orphaned cat?” Then there was this long awkward silence. I relished it. There was no sound. I could hear her thinking on the other end of the phone. Finally, she says “Ach, I’ll just speak to you later in the week” and hangs up.

Me: You need a sweetie-pie. This girl wasn’t it.

Hal: No, she was a vomit-pie.

*****

Sarcasm is a leading indicator of low self esteem in a woman. It is a masculine manifestation driven by the ego that cannot coexist with the inner feminine driven by the heart. A girl who leans on the crutch of sarcasm to thrash her way through a conversation is hiding insecurities behind a phony facade of gritty toughness. She sees the world through a lens of negativity. Her first instinct is to doubt sincerity in others, because she is herself insincere in everything she says and does. When your date wallows in sarcastic “humor”, you will know you are dealing with a girl who is untrusting, manipulative, and incapable of being vulnerable around you. She is afraid you will see right through to her core being, and you will judge. Sarcasm shields her self-doubt from you.

Low self esteem + fear of vulnerability + sarcasm = typical urban woman.

These are the key ingredients of the Bitch. She is inherently unfeminine. Screen for these types early and often, and let the betas suffer the Bitches’ weaknesses. They deserve each other.

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