Keeping Your Woman In Line

Back in the day I lived in a group house with three other guys. It was a great time. As men, we really sharpened our joshing in this environment. I mastered the art of the cutting retort.

One of the guys, a physically imposing 6’7″ laid back dude, had a hot girlfriend – let’s call her Kay – with a great personality. She was every guy’s dream girlfriend. One night, all of us were sitting around in the living room splayed across dirty couches watching TV when Kay started gossiping about inconsequential private matters involving her boyfriend and his family. She meant no harm by it, and we weren’t really paying attention, but he obviously didn’t like the idea of her revealing personal details from his life. Out of the blue, he thundered

“SHUT THE FUCK UP KAY!!”

The room fell silent. Kay blushed a bright crimson and sat immobile, looking at him submissively from under her lowered eyes. She didn’t protest or attempt to defend herself. I think all she said was “OK alright” in a mousy half-exasperated, half-apologetic voice. After what seemed like hours but was only 30 seconds, one of us broke the tension by changing the subject to something stupid on TV.

Later that night, I was awoken by a steady thumping noise coming through the walls. It was loud enough to rouse me to investigate. I walked closer to the source of the thump on the other side of the house (this was a very large house) which was reverberating from one of the bedrooms. It sounded like a heavy appliance being dropped. As I neared the bedroom door I heard the unmistakeable grunts, moaning, and shrieks of delight of lovemaking. Mr. Shut The Fuck Up was fucking his girlfriend so hard that the bed frame was lifting off the floor. His thrusting tempo was precise — you could have practiced piano to the metronomic beat of the thumping.

There are a few impressionable moments in a young man’s life that opens his eyes to the true nature of women. This was one of them.

***

Proposition: I challenge my male readers — particularly my beta readers — who have girlfriends to an asshole experiment. When your GF makes you genuinely angry I want you to yell at her “SHUT THE FUCK UP”. Credibility will be added if you do it in public. This will be tough for you to do, but my presence will be with you, like the unholy spirit. Visualize your balls physically growing larger when she says something that pisses you off.

Email me the results of this experiment, good or bad. What did she say/do? Did you back down or stand by your words? Did you break up or did you have the best sex of your lives afterward? For those of you who have already yelled like this to your girlfriends, your memory of the event will be accepted for consideration. After I have received a number of responses, I will put up a post in the future quoting each contributing reader’s experience. You will be credited for your bravery in the pursuit of truth and understanding.

I believe some of you will become intoxicated by the power of asshole.

PS: They got happily married.

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My Advice To Women

It’s pretty clear what women want — a man with means, good genes, romantic swings, and daddy dreams.* When she finds him she’ll want marriage, home, and kids in a nice neighborhood. That is a woman’s formula for happiness in life. Since I am a giver and a humanitarian I offer the following advice to women to help them achieve happiness.

Don’t move to the big city

After college women move into the big cities on the coasts to find an alpha male husband because that is where the high status men concentrate. We have studies proving this. There are two problems with this strategy. One, there aren’t enough alpha males to marry all the women who want them. If you put all the alphas into a small bar there would be a rock concert sized throng of women outside bribing the doorman to let them in. The numbers just don’t add up. But since women will cling to their dream of snagging one of these guys many flush away their best years fucking around fruitlessly in the dating market and wind up alone at the cusp of hitting the wall.

Two, what few alphas there are won’t demand anything less than the hottest chicks they can afford. Since most women really aren’t that pretty they have no chance of getting an alpha male to commit, so they suffer the ignominy and emotional grind of getting pumped and dumped by men who play the pussy carousel.

My advice: If you are in the 85% of single women who aren’t an 8 or above don’t bother moving to the city. Stay in your small town and meet a man there. Trust me, I am saving you a lot of heartache and wasted years with this valuable advice. For the rest of you who are genuinely hot, moving to the city makes sense; your odds of marrying a Mr. Big there are better than average.

Don’t get a grad school degree

The more education women get, the more money they earn, and the higher their status rises. Because women “date up”, this has the unfortunate effect of shrinking their dating pool. The higher they climb the status ladder, the fewer men they will find above them suitable for marriage. Result: Women with advanced degrees have fewer children and stay single longer. Eventually, this trend will reverse as educated women contribute less of their genes to future generations, but my advice is for women who want happiness now.

If you are a smart girl it’s better to satisfy your intellectual cravings by reading books on your leisure time instead of getting your smarts credentialed by a university, like the way high class girls used to do in the past. Women who worry that without higher education they will be left financially strapped in a cold world should consider that men are more likely to provide for them if they feel their resources and support are needed. The male protector and provider instinct is a strong one when it is manipulated by a weaker woman.

Caveat: If you are an ugly woman, go to grad school. You’ll need the better job prospects.

Invest in cosmetic repair

Since we’re talking about how to maximize women’s happiness based on the formula Alpha Husband + Children + Home = Happy, the most efficient and effective way to achieve this is through surgical beauty enhancement. It makes more sense for a woman who ranks lower than a 7 to spend her money on cosmetic surgery that will immediately earn her the sexual attention of thousands more men than what she was used to, than to spend her money on shoes, clothes, and European vacations which do nothing to help her land a quality husband.

If you think this is superficial, it is. I have nothing to say to you except get your head out of the clouds.

Don’t run marathons

Marathon running must violate the first law of thermodynamics, because every woman I’ve met who has said she is training for a marathon was chubby. All that running around aimlessly for miles must put on weight. Note: Does not apply to women training for a triathlon. These women are universally fit and slender.

Don’t watch TV

TV has done more to bloat women’s expectations than anything else in American culture. In real life, Carrie Bradshaw is horsefaced and does not land a millionaire. Samantha is over the hill and infertile from being riddled with STDs. The bachelor on The Bachelor: London Calling fucks all 25 women and leaves them for an 18 year old stripper in Vegas. You’ll never find happiness if you think reality is a sassy TV show.

***

If I’ve made even one woman happier after reading this and following my advice, I’ll feel like I’ve saved a life. Sometimes I’m so generous with my heart it makes me weep with pride.

Bonus: My advice to men

You deserve a 10!

*It took me three hours to craft that poetry.

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Gaming “Type A” Girls

The Type A and Type B personality theory (or Type A and Type B behavior pattern) divides the population of humans into two groups, based on their personality characteristics.

People who fall under Type A exhibit characteristics such as being impatient, excessively time-conscious, insecure about one’s status, highly competitive, hostile and aggressive, and incapable of relaxation. Type A individuals are often high-achieving workaholics who multi-task, drive themselves with deadlines, and are unhappy about the smallest of delays.

Cute girl approaches me. She looks vaguely like Hilary Swank, but with better teeth. Her posture is ramrod straight. The smile on her face doesn’t falter. She never breaks eye contact. Her energy is intense. I feel like I should salute her.

Her: I saw you standing over here trying to look cool so I figured I’d come over and say Hi.

Me: “Trying”?

Her: What’s your name?

Me: That was fast. Let’s get creative. Ask another question.

Her: What do you do?

Me: Look cool.

Her: So you work for free? Because I’ve seen better.

Me: No… you haven’t. Hey, I just saw you gaming some guy right over there. Are you going around the bar practicing your flirting skills?

Her: I’m winging for my friend. [she points to a dude across the room] I was occupying the guy talking to me so my friend could hit on the girl in his group. I gave him a number I never answer.

Me: You’re like the female version of a player. For some reason I think you’re proud of that.

Her: [beaming] Yes, I am! [stares daggers into me] So, really, what do you do?

Me: Back to this again. OK, I make it hard for girls like you to get a straight answer. I get the feeling you want guys to be intimidated by you.

Her: You aren’t intimidated by me? Because most guys are.

Me: I’m shaking in my boots.

***

This edgy, in-your-face banter lasted for 15 minutes, escalating every step of the way. The longer it lasted, the more she became intrigued, her facial expressions getting animated with each new pseudo-insult. It was fun for me… for the first 30 seconds… then I became annoyed. High octane antagonistic flirting can quickly devolve into a farce and when that happens the momentum is lost. Sassy works in measured doses; more than that and it turns into bitchy. And despite the latest cultural meme to the contrary, guys don’t really like bitches. We prefer sweet.

Unfortunately, DC is filled to the brim with Type A girls. A brimful of assholes on the 45. So you have to learn to love confrontational flirting, because that’s what these girls use to separate you from the rest of the pack. It’s all they know. The better you parry her, the higher she bumps you up her male scale.

The trick is to give her what she wants at first, then pull it away and force her into your courtship tempo. Type A girls are actually *easier* to attract than Type B girls because they are simple creatures who respond reflexively to men who don’t wilt under their onslaught. Type Bs tend to be more inscrutable and sensitive; one bold move can close them off to you for good if they take it the wrong way. You’ve got more leeway with Type As to flirt outrageously, but the downside is that they are skilled at preventing you from moving the seduction forward. If you’re not careful, you’ll have a crazy fun time with her for 20 minutes… then walk home empty-handed.

Spend a few minutes attracting her, then firmly change the tone of the conversation. Say something like “Well, this is fun, but it would be better if we sat down over there and had a real conversation.” Or do a cold read: “I have an intuition about you. You come across so forward and intense, with a big wall built up around you, but inside there’s a sensitive vulnerable girl who just wants any chance to show the right guy the side of her that she hides from the world.”

Find an excuse to get her to move to a quieter spot where you can sit her down. Type As lose a lot of their incessant cockiness when they are sitting down. The physical act of sitting seems to humble them a bit. Whatever you do, don’t bother number closing a Type A if you haven’t moved past the flirting and gotten her to open up to you about something personal. You’ll know you have done this when the smile plastered on her face all night finally takes a break. Type As are very social and flirt with lots of men. She will forget you as soon as she’s left the bar to go home if your interaction with her was entirely superficial.

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Reality Check

I was walking with a friend down a city street here in the city and we took a running tally of all the cute girls we passed. We lost count. No sooner were we leering at admiring one hot chick when another one appeared and stole our attention. I wondered if this was how lions felt when there were too many prey animals to choose from on the veldt — overwhelmed to the point of inaction.

One of the routes I frequently take has tons of chicks.

 

That’s an average of 70 inspiring girls along this heavily-trafficed route. I rarely see repeats, except for the Pink Ladies loitering in front of Asylum. This route is probably the second best in city for day game, just behind Kansas.

As you can see, the center city is a magnet for girls who want to sit on the benches and pretend to type on laptops.

This heavy concentration of babes in parts of the city can lead a man to mistakenly believe the whole world is a playground of available women ripe for his charms. He may then conclude there is no hurry to approach any one girl since there’s always another one coming. Such a flawed perspective needs a reality check, so I’ve put together a handy chart that shows indisputably how few acceptable girls there are in an average day for a man to hit on.

Age of woman	# per 100 you’ll see walking around on any given Saturday in DC*	% 7s and Above	# of Acceptable Targets (rounded)	# of acceptable targets who will be single** at any given time
18	1	92	1	0
19	2	88	2	0
20	4	80	3	1
21	4	70	3	1
22	5	65	4	1
23	7	55	3	1
24	9	47	4	2
25	10	42	4	2
26	11	37	4	2
27	9	33	3	2
28	6	28	2	1
29	4	25	1	1
30	4	20	1	1
31	3	15	0	0
32	3	12	0	0
33	2	10	0	0
34	2	8	0	0
35	2	5	0	0
36	2	3	0	0
37	2	2	0	0
38	1	2	0	0
39	1	1	0	0
40	1	1	0	0
41	1	1/2	0	0
42	1	1/4	0	0
43	1	1/5	0	0
44	1	1/10	0	0
45	1	1/100	0	0
The Wall	Invisible	0	N/A	N/A
Totals	100		35	15

*Older women will tend to be found in Costco on a Saturday afternoon buying bulk Oreos for their kids.
**Restricted to girls who are open to meeting men. Women in the city between 28 and 35 are more likely to be single than women under 25.

From my chart, the pickings are slim. For every 100 women in a youth-oriented city that attracts good-looking girls from all over the country, you will be aroused by 35 of them, and have an outside shot at gratifying your arousal with only 15.

To put it in another perspective, since most men agree on what constitutes a 7 and above, you’re competing with 100 other guys for 15 vaginas. Do you have what it takes to be in the top 15%?

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Obesity To Blame For Game

Reader Joe T. sent me a link to this story (scroll halfway down) about female obesity correlating with lower pay in the workplace. The study’s conclusion — that fat women suffer a wage penalty because of discrimination — is shaky (for instance, fat women may be less productive than their thinner counterparts due to health issues), but there’s no doubt that employers — male and female, fat and thin — don’t like looking at fat chicks in the office and that this may affect their employment prospects. There is a chart accompanying the report which shows that the percentage of overweight and obese white American women has increased from 12.6% in 1981 to 50.4%(!) in 2000.

That is just so fucking depressing on so many levels. The gravity of this tragic situation had me wondering if the rise in female obesity has indirectly contributed to the concurrent rise in the teaching of Game and the player subculture. I now think it has. The best way to illustrate my point is through visual aids.

This is what happens when you put five thin women of bangable age and reasonable attractiveness and five normal men together in a bar:

All the penises have found a home. Every woman is at a minimum sperm-worthy so the competition between the men is reduced to a manageable amount unless one of the girls happens to be an 8.5 or better, in which case there is a flurry of chest-pounding as the men jockey for her attention, followed quickly by peace in the land once the betas realize that sex with 6s and 7s isn’t too bad, either.

Now we’ll see what happens when you put three fat chicks, one mediocre-looking thin girl, one hot red-headed girl, and five normal men together in a bar:

As you can see, the three fat chicks are completely ignored, even though this guarantees that three penises will not find a home tonight, unless the two remaining girls are into sharing. Instead, all five men will descend upon the two skinny chicks and a battle royale will ensue for access to their skinny vaginas. Eventually, the hot red-headed chick will meet her attention quota and go home penis-less but oddly very satisfied. The mediocre-looking chick, who would be a 6 in any other country where the female obesity rate wasn’t over 50%, is suddenly faced with the sexual interest of five men. Being the only sperm-worthy available vagina left in the bar, she vogues and disdains like a 10, enjoying every second of her newfound fame, and throwing the forces of the cosmos into a great imbalance. Her ego jacked up, she too will go home penis-less and emotionally very satisfied, all the while thanking her American sisters for their addiction to cookie dough straight from the tube.

A visual representation of the aftermath of this all-too-real nightmare scenario:

Those are the penises trampled underfoot the stiletto heels of the last remaining thin girl in the universe. Her head has grown large from the ego-stroking of all the men who had no other options but to attempt sex with her. Like small mammals scattered out of the brush before a stampeding herd of wildebeests, scampering toward the safety of one golden burrow on the horizon, these men face certain doom.

Which brings me to my theory: Game has been refined, taught and embraced by men in direct proportion to the shrinking pool of attractive thin girls. As the reduced supply of skinny chicks have seen their sexual market value skyrocket, they have adjusted by pricing their pussy out of reach for the average guy. In return, men have sought solutions to this new challenge in the rapidly advancing science of seduction. Where simple courtship worked in the past, it is no longer effective against the deep bunker defenses of the in-demand slender woman.

There has always been an evolutionary arms race between men and women in the quest for sex but now, for the first time in human history, the sheer numbers of fat chicks — in concert with the increase of financially independent women — is accelerating this arms race so fast that many people can’t cope and drop out. The tools of seduction for men become better by the day and the women counter with more impenetrable defenses. The tension is palpable. The whining and bitching is cacophonic. Distrust and dating blogs are at record highs.

If just 20% of fat chicks lost weight relations between the sexes would start to noticeably improve. And there would be more happiness in the world, because a skinny girl with hunger pangs is happier than a fat girl with a sheepdog and peanut butter.

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First Impressions

Take a look at this photo:

What snap judgements did you just make of each girl? Don’t think too hard about this, go with your gut. Once you have your answers, scroll down to see if they match mine.

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Girl on left: Cockblock.

Middle girl: Chaperone.

Girl on right: Shit tester.

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Beautiful Women Past To Present

A reader sent me a link to this eye-popping morphing video montage of the beautiful faces of Hollywood leading ladies over the years. There is a vague, eerie similarity among all the faces.

Beautiful women aren’t clones of each other but neither do they deviate too far from the primary beauty script. For instance, no one would mistake Nicole Kidman for Halle Berry but they both share those essential features that capture men’s hearts — large eyes, prominent cheekbones, small chins and noses, facial symmetry, succulent lips, and clear smooth skin.

Note the zero difference hair styles make to the women’s beauty.

Who’s your favorite? Mine’s a toss-up between Audrey Hepburn and Vivian Leigh. I’m curious if there is a pattern in what my female and male readers choose as their favorites.

(Jodie Foster is proof that there is something identifiably strange going on with lesbians’ upper row of teeth.)

PS: Does anyone know what classical tune is playing in the video? It seems like the perfectly suited soundtrack for self-pleasuring to admiring beautiful female faces.

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