When It Is OK To Call A Woman Fat

Commenter and blogger Redacted had this to say from yesterday’s post:

Somewhat off topic, but never, ever neg someone with a reference to their weight. Not even a 10. A buddy of mine got kicked out of a club for saying, “Hey, haven’t you put on a pound or two,” to one of the hired guns.

I don’t disagree with this if we’re talking about women only. (Men can handle jabs about their spare tires.) Women are so incredibly sensitive to criticism of their weight (and for good sociobiological reason) that there aren’t too many scenarios in which you could manipulate their body image issues to your benefit without it blowing up in your face like an overstuffed burrito.

Sure, if a girl punches you in the nads, call her fat. If your estranged wife is cackling across the divorce lawyer’s mahogany table, casually mention she’s a shambling mound. If your sister ratted you out — she’s fair game.

But the most rewarding time to drop a fatty insult on a girl is with an ex. If you ever bump into an ex-girlfriend who had the gall to stop having sex with you, you can hit her with the fatty two by four. (Be sure to use subtlety when you swing the low blow. In-your-face won’t get under the skin as deeply.) I did exactly this with a Russian ex of mine.

Her: [looking skinny and spectacular] Hi, nice to see you!

Me: [looking momentarily stunned] Oh hey, hi.

Her: Wow, so how are you?

Me: Good. [scheming…] You look nice. Did you put on a little weight? It looks good on you.

Her: [jaw on floor] Um, noo… OK, well, I’ve got to go.

Was it petty? Yes. Did I have a smile on my face afterwards? Yes. Did I get hand? YES.

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Girls Love It When I Don’t Take Them Seriously

Girls… oh fuck even grown women… constantly test me. DC women are the worst in this department. You’re trying to have a normal human conversation with them and it’s one challenge after another, forever pushing limits and boundaries to see just how alpha you are under pressure. Most men get frustrated and leave to pay a visit to Mike’s Apartment, but I relish turning the tables on these soul-sucking succubi. No guts no glory hole.

I’ve found girls respond like Pavlovian dogs in heat when you don’t take their shit seriously. Anything they say to get under your skin can be skillfully turned into a reverse Jedi mind trick pressing their attraction buttons. The key is to take nothing they say at face value. I’ve mentioned this before — AMUSED MASTERY is the attitude you want to project. Everything she does is cute. All her shit tests are bratty outbursts. Her silly little opinions are adorable. She is there for you to tease and taunt and patronize. Condescend to her at will.

Refusing to take a girl seriously fills her with indignation… and horniness. She’ll chastise you while stroking your thigh lasciviously. They can’t help themselves! It’s almost like women are at battle with their own secret desires, begging you with their eyes to breach their armament and storm their castles.

Girl: “Do you have a problem with a tall girl wearing heels? I’m a very dominant woman and I like men who are more dominant than me.”
Me: “There’s a homeless guy down the street who’d be perfect for you. He’s never lost a staring contest.”

This is my life.

 

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Gay Boyfriend

I have a theory about girls who have “tight like that” best gay boyfriends. These types of girls are very girly (read: flaky and feminine) but their libidos lean towards the masculine. It’s really the perfect combo: A girly girl who unleashes in the bedroom (and the park and the library and the deep end of the pool…). I’m not sure why this is. Maybe the girly in them loves the BGBF attention and the sexpot in them identifies with the robust and promiscuous gay lifestyle. The downside for a straight guy dating a BGBF-loving girl is the higher risk of cheating and drama. These are the girls who will dance on bars as random guys stroke their stockinged inner thighs. To handle a relationship with this girl, you have to be in a “party all the time” mental space.

Interestingly, there is no reverse scenario. There’s no such thing as a lesbian girlfriend for straight men. It would be great to be able to call up a best lesbian girlfriend for a quickie round of golf or Wii bowling, and commiserating over bitches. Even better if she’s a lipstick lesbian and looks good. Unfortunately, lesbians get along with no one but other lesbians.

I would love to have a gay boyfriend — minus the intimacy part — to take along shopping so that I don’t have to waste time figuring out what looks best on me. He would know right away. And I would enjoy my platonic gay boyfriend’s constant flattery boosting my ego major — maybe even two full rating points (10++) so that I would hit the clubs later on cloud nine rejecting women all night for being out of their league.

Some things I’ve learned from a girl I know who has a BGBF:

• Gay boyfriends are fiercely protective of their girlfriends. They have been known to knock out brawny straight guys for disrespecting their “girl”.
• Black gays are the most flaming, followed by whites, then asians who are the hardest to peg as gay from a mere glance. Supposedly, this is because it is a big deal for gay blacks to come out so when they do it’s pedal to the metal.
• There is such a thing as a “gay face”. Hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. Think big bright feminine eyes, full lips, and an all-around glow.
• All gay men are “ass men”. There’s no such thing as a gay “bitch tit man”.

I am much hipper and, yes, a little gayer, for knowing this culturally valuable information.

Postscript:

Do gay men get off looking at their own penises? Do they have to battle a hardon every time they grab hold to take a wizz? Mysteries of the universe…

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When Men And Women Can Be Friends

Over at Alias Clio, a blog I occasionally read, I posted the following comment on a thread about niceguys and their eternal torment trapped in the LJBF zone:

…no man wants to be a cute girl’s emotional tampon. fulfilling her emotional needs while having his physical needs denied is a one way street to bitterness. women with real sympathy for men’s sexual needs would not put a lovelorn niceguy through the anguishing ringer of platonic friendship. but most women (and men) don’t possess that kind of empathy and selflessness for the opposite sex. women simply get too much benefit from having what pickup artists call “orbiters” feeding their egos by doting on them and listening to them drone about their badboy BFs without having to put out.

male-female friendships only work when neither are physically attracted to the other, and they *partially* work when 1) the woman is attracted to the man but he isn’t attracted to her or 2) he is attracted to her but getting lots of action from other women.

in fact, the best course to follow for the man who wants his choice in women is to cultivate lots of hot female friends who can act as “pivots” and “social proof” for picking up other women. this will be difficult to manage if he’s in the midst of a dry spell because his unquenched lust will envelop him like a repellent shroud and make the normal to-and-fro of friendship building an excruciating ordeal, mostly for him but in time for her, too. it is much easier to be friends with attractive women when the man is in a perpetual state of sexual satiation.

I’ve thought about this and I believe what I wrote is an accurate description of reality. Men and women simply cannot be friends unless certain conditions are met.

• Mutual lack of attraction

This is easy. When there’s no loin burning to get in the way a girl buddy is like a guy buddy, except you can dump on her about your dating troubles and give your opinion of in-season colors without getting laughed at. Just remember you’re not going to talk about the same things with a girl buddy. She won’t tolerate hours of analysis about AMD vs Intel or your fantasy baseball team, and in return she’ll curb her urge to discuss shoes with you ad nauseum. An honest and trustworthy girl buddy makes an excellent fashion consultant and, if she’s not hideous looking, a valuable addition to your game as a pivot (a girl who will make you look good in clubs and help you meet other women).

Unfortunately, very few women that you would want to be seen with in public qualify as true 100% friend material. You’re limited to fat chicks, ugly chicks (4s and below), and older women who are crashing headlong into the wall. All other women, even the plain ones, will at some point be seen by guys as sex objects, because our straydar for sex opportunities is always active. Probably the best the average man can hope for is a 95% friendship with a 5 or 6 rating girl where he occasionally risks the friendship 5% of the time drunkenly announcing his intention to make sweet love to her cleavage.

• One way attraction, girl to guy

Girls find it easier to keep their sex drives in check, which is why they can retain their sanity while remaining friends with uninterested guys they are attracted to far longer than the reverse scenario. Men who are attracted to their girl buddies cannot stay friends for long without either making a sloppy move and killing the friendship or sacrificing their last ounce of dignity as they go insane from blue balls toxic shock. But for women in this position, it’s a house of cards. With enough time, this type of friendship will eventually dissolve in drama, as happened to me once when a female roommate left our apartment overnight because I didn’t feel the same way about her. (FYI: girls turn bathrooms into pigsties.)

• One way attraction, player to girl

There is only one way a single man can be friends with a woman he wants to bang and that’s when his balls are so drained from fucking other women that he feels no testicular pressure to act on his desire. You’ll notice that a typical sexually satisfied alpha has lots of hot girl acquaintances he doesn’t bother gaming because the effort required is not worth the very small marginal increase in pleasure or risk of losing the girls as social proof and as friends. This is really the ideal short-term situation to be in for a man — swimming in pussy and therefore able to tolerate and even enjoy the friendship of unavailable hot girls without being overwhelmed by lust to corrupt their friendship status with intimate jackhammering. But in the long-term, the underlying male animal lust for a hot girl buddy must resolve itself, and even the most well-fed man will devour a filet mignon if it’s put on a plate in front of him every day. My advice: It’s best to take hot girl buddies in small doses. Like for two hours on a Friday night in a bar where you can leverage their hot friendship to build your harem with new recruits.

• The man is married or in a relationship

If you’re looking to be a cool friend to hot chicks without falling victim to the temptation to hit on them, you can acquire this noble virtue on the cheap by shackling your vice within the artificial prison of marriage or exclusive relationships. (Note: The opposite doesn’t work — most men will sleep with a hot married woman given the chance and in spite of the risk.) This is the foolproof method for betas to be relaxed and emotionally stable friends with attractive girls they’d love to bang. They simply tell themselves that they already have a girl waiting for them at home who they love very much or, if they don’t love her, who would be really pissed if they cheated on her, and so the pressure is off. They can therefore rationalize their asexual acquiescence to LJBFdom as a pose of moral rectitude. This self-hypnosis is a convenient veneer for washed-up betas out of the game, for if a genuine opportunity arose with one of their hot friends they’d suddenly feel the psychic strain of battling real temptation, and all that happy clappy harmless niceguy friend posturing would buckle under the heaving mass of their juiced up lust. This is why the beta who stays faithful to his wife is less virtuous than the alpha who does the same.

• She’s on the internet and you can’t see her in person

Pretty simple trick to be platonic with a chick when she’s a flick on your monitor and a thousand miles away.

***

Final Thoughts

The beta niceguy who has a girl buddy he secretly wants to screw is not really a friend to her at all, and vice versa. To the exploitative girl, he is merely a tool to massage her ego, abetting her puling therapeutic self-absorbed shit that no alpha male friend would ever tolerate. To the beta, her friendship is just a complicated schematic for finding some backchannel weasely way into her pants as substitute for his lack of courage to bust a move and dignity to walk away when his feelings aren’t reciprocated.

And that’s the core problem for betas. They are so afraid they’ll never find a girl who will love them that they’d rather degrade themselves clinging endlessly to unsympathetic girl buddies under the pretense that maybe one day she’ll see the lion inside and finally succumb to his charms. The LJBF racket has had a monopoly on weak men for a long time, possibly since the first caveman consoled a cavegirl bitching about her tribal leader boyfriend by letting her nuzzle into his shoulder as he said “there, there” and struggled against a mighty boner under his furs.

My advice to LJBF’ed betas would be to drop the whole idea of being friends with attractive women until they have gotten some actual experience fucking women, rather than experience holding excruciatingly sterile platonic conversations with them about the minutiae of their lives.

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Girls Like Squeezable Things

At the EU Embassy tour in DC last weekend me and another aficionado of European girls culture picked up these very squeezable red balls at the Austrian embassy.
give it a good freudian squeeze ladies.

Despite getting much grief from parties who shall remain anonymous who believe that carrying around touristy crap is a very white people thing to do, I held and caressed my ball all day and never let it out of my sight. I also had a mini flag in my back pocket, and an official looking EU post-it notepad. I felt worldly and it showed in my international-style strut.

Later on, we were at the Reef roof deck enjoying mussels and fries (three random black guys had ordered the same meal. I had no idea mussels were the new hip food) when Roosh put his red ball on the bar. A girl leaned into our group and asked him about the ball.

“Why do you have a ball?”
“Because it’s mine.”
“Can I hold your ball?”
“No, it’s my ball.”

She looked at him with that slack-jawed half-grin that girls get when they’re a little bit offended but they like it. A few more words were exchanged and she left our group. One minute later she leaned back in, reached her arm across the bar, and grabbed his ball. She held it up triumphantly.

“I got it!”
“Give me back my ball. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

She relinquished the ball with a look of sexual attraction on her face. Her male friend apologized for her. Beta.

This got me thinking about props to bring to bars that would help spark flirtatious conversation. Random items that make no sense whatsoever in a bar context and are made of a material that tempts girls to stroke and squeeze them would work best. For instance, I have an Adidas runners pullover with thumbholes in the sleeves that I wear out to clubs which is not the most stylish looking yet I get girls coming up to me to feel the silky Rayon material all the time. Texture can be just as effective as the look of what you wear because girls perceive the world with all their senses equally while guys mostly use their eyes and penis.

Along these lines, I thought of the following knickknacks to carry with me and place on bars while I drink my beer:

pink teddy bear
cotton balls
nerf football
silly putty
bubble-pack
stuffed bunny rabbit
chia pet
silicone implant
pad and pen (not squeezable, but this works!)
silk scarf
play-doh
giant dustball
a rubber hot dog

Any girl who squeezes or strokes right away is likely to be sexually uninhibited, cutting my workload in half.

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Shaming Girls For Their Bad Choices

These guys were talking to a couple of women at Marvin when an attractive third girl who was a friend of the women showed up. I walked over to occupy chat up the friend and our conversation was good. She was flirty, fun and all smiles. We talked for maybe ten minutes when I felt a meaty hand grip my forearm hard. I looked in the direction of the grip and saw an inebriated man giving me the drunk stink eye.

“Yo dude, take your fucking hand off my arm.”

He removed his hand. I turned back to the girl. Three seconds later his hand was back on my forearm.

“What did I say?” I grabbed his arm and pushed it off. He grunted and was about to put it back on when the girl intervened.

“Stop! Sorry, he gets like this. He’s drunk right now and can get very protective.”

“I see. So this is your boyfriend?” She was slapping his hand away like a mom would an insolent child.

“We’ve been dating a little while. I met him through the internet.” Figuring out why she would divulge that critical detail, I looked over and saw Douchebag Extraordinaire half sliding off his barstool and making another flailing attempt to grab my arm. He was a stocky guy, definitely not a herb, but his drunkenness meant slow reaction times. I was not worried if it came to blows.

I only felt superficial anger toward this guy. He was an insecure tool, but tools are a feature of the universe, like dark matter. They’re all over, and you learn to deal with them like you deal with the weather. My real contempt was for the girl for brazenly flirting with me in front of her date without telling me she was taken, and for dating such a loser. I never allow myself to be the guy that girls get their validation kicks from in plain view of their low self-esteem trigger happy boyfriends.

As I’m watching this go down, she kept repeating “I’m really sorry” but in that perky way that makes you think she’s not FEELING as sorry as she should. I turned back to her with a cold stare, making sure she understood that my problem was with her. “I’m done talking with you.” I pointed at her internet date. “Get this part of your life handled before you think about talking to guys like me again.” I walked off.

Taking a girl instantly from the high of flirty banter to the low of icy scorn lets her know her shit won’t fly with you. Social disapproval in the form of ostracization is a heat-seeking missile that aims straight at the thermal exhaust port of women, and if enough men had the balls to make an attractive girl pay a price for her stupid bar games and her bad choices in dates she might, over time, improve her behavior.

I’m not holding my breath.

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My First Experience With A 10

One time in South Beach I wandered into one of the art deco hotels and found myself surrounded by models. It was 1AM and I was drunk so it seemed like a good idea to roam the halls of a random hotel and crash any parties in progress. Every other room door was open and filled with beautiful people smoking pot, lounging on bean bags, and languidly caressing each other. There were hippie beaded doors and silk see-through fabrics substituting for real doors from which billowing clouds of pot smoke would emanate. The whole place gave the impression of walking through an interactive diorama of set pieces featuring the genetically perfect in their native habitat doing what they do best — snorting hedonism like an eight ball.

Passing by one of the rooms a girl shouted out at me to come in and join them. “Hey you, whatever your name is, don’t be shy!” I was barely out of college and had no game for this type of situation so all I could do was nod at the group and feel my pupils dilate to maximum aperture to take in the breathtakingly beautiful women. An occasional 9 or 10 walking down the street is a rare treat and can knock a guy right out of his daily humdrum stupor, but a roomful of 9s and 10s in seductive half-naked poses, doing that thing where you’re high and laughing without any noise coming out of your mouth, and gesturing for you to come closer where you take in their natural aromas, will make you catatonic. I tried hard to ignore the male models scuffling around the room in their underwear and felt relieved that the purity of my heterosexuality was not challenged by their six sigma good looks.

I sat on the purple shag rug next to one of the girls, a waifish brunette with olive skin and Mila Kunis lips. Her body and face couldn’t have been crafted any better by a master sculptor. I admired her flat stomach under her half-shirt dangling like an awning off her boobs.

“Where are you from?”
“Nowhere.” (I was very angsty back then.)
“Well, Mr. Nowhere, spark it up! You look tense.”
She handed me a spliff. I coughed on my first drag.
“I should warn you, it’s strong leaf.”
Suddenly, she leaned over and planted her lips on mine. The sensations overwhelmed me. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. We kissed for a few seconds. She pulled back and laughed as she slapped the back of her hand against her forehead.
“Hey dude, beer’s on the balcony.” One of the male models was talking to me.
I looked over and saw that my new love had her hand on his knee and he was chuckling. I stood up and went to the balcony. There was no beer in the cooler. Looking around, I saw that no one was paying me attention anymore. I left to find my friend.

That night was a glimpse into another world, a secret society of blessed people who are above 99.999999% of humanity, flouting every known convention and not giving a fuck. I fondly remember my first kiss with a 10 better than I do my actual first kiss. Enjoying the pleasure of a truly stunning woman is an experience like no other on this earth. Mediocre women — even attractive 8s — don’t provide the same profound depth of stimulation. I don’t know how so many men can get it up for ugly women.

In the age old question of quantity versus quality a balance must be struck. The super alphas will cycle through a rotation of the hottest women. Everyone else must compromise in some way. Variety in itself is a turn-on, but steady sex from one exceptionally beautiful woman is more rewarding than new sex with a plethora of plain janes.

Beautiful women are worth holding out for. By “holding out” I mean “saving your commitment”. One night of sex with a 10 is equal to ten years of sex with fifty 6s.

Tomorrow I will discuss the quantity vs quality pussy issue in more detail.

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