Archive for the ‘Girls’ Category

Captain Obvious draws the obvious parallel between masculinizing women and a culture’s operative sexual market.

R-Selection necessarily MASCULINIZES women, because under R-Selection, women have to FIGHT their way into an Alpha’s harem.

You could pretty much state it as a foundational premise of Evopsych that you have “Femininity if and only if K-Selection” [i.e. monogamy].

r-selection is the term to describe a sexual market dominated by polygyny, high fertility, lower paternal certainty (and thus lower paternal investment), and usually the sexual or marital disenfranchisement of beta males. Africa is a prime example.

K-selection is the opposite: a term to describe a sexual market dominated by monogamy, lower fertility, higher paternal certainty (and thus higher paternal investment), and usually the sexual or marital enfranchisement of beta males. Northern Europe is a prime example.

C.O. is right that masculinized women — in appearance and personality — are a feature of r-selected societies, because women fight for a few alpha men, toil for their bread, and generally put less effort into behaving or looking womanly because their men are pump and dumpers who won’t stick around for the duration and are just looking for an ass to hump.

In contrast, the men of K-selected societies are romantically inclined to long term monogamy, and seek women with very feminine attributes. If a man is in it for the long haul, he’ll want a woman who herself brings a lot to the bargaining table, and her number one asset is her loveliness and femininity.

If a nation’s women are masculinizing, that is a portent of civilizational collapse, because r-selected societies are backward, violent societies filled with bitter beta males and bastard children. The masculinizing women are biologically responding and adapting to a change in sexual market norms and functioning, that requires of women a willingness to compete more forcefully with other women for the honor to be part of an alpha’s de jure or de facto, concomitant or serial, concubinage. As a culture’s women become more or less masculine, that culture is likewise becoming more or less r-selected.

Slut walks?


Studies in Patriarchal White Male Privilege?

Bitter spinsters typing Feedbuzz agitprop encouraging younger women to follow their EatPrayCarousel lifestyle?

Preteen glam mags offering tips to younger and younger women how to sexually satisfy themselves and their boyfriends using a variety of sex toy implements?

These and more are the cultural hallmarks of masculinizing women. The West is becoming Africa (minus the cannibalism, but give it time).


FYI in a mass contraceptive environment, “high fertility” means promiscuity.

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Riffing on this long-form neg, (is it working, Bri? DM me!), some bantz regarding Brittany Pettibone’s purpose and pleasure ensued between readers and yours cruelly. As a stand-in for the constellation of PIVnat alt-right thotties, Brit does nicely. NAMinxALT, yes, yes, but let’s face it, these camera-ready nonconformist coquettes must share similar characteristics (and characters).

If they’re categorizable as femmes fatales, which archetype would best fit them?

The Golddigger?

The Waif/Neurotic?

The Eternal Ingenue?

The Amazonian Alpha?

I’d need more time studying her…personality, but from what little I know and have seen of B. Pettibone, she’s a cross between the Golddigger and Neurotic femme fatale archetypes.

Jack McKrack writes,

I doubt she’s a Golddigger – she’s attractive enough 2 have hooked a wealthy man by now if money was what she desired. maybe…Famedigger is more accurate? or maybe she’s playing a long game of seeking fame that turns into more wealth than could be had by a more direct approach (marrying a dude who’s rich already but with a comparatively low wealth ceiling)?

Yes, she’d more precisely be a Famedigger, a subcategory of Golddigger. (Less flattering terms are fame whore, starfucker, groupie, renown hound, rep chaser, klieg queen, YidTube sensation, blue tick snip dick (for the males).) These kinds of women don’t necessarily marry or fuck for money, but they are characterized by a ruthless pursuit of their goals, and a fulfillment of their desires, which can be unremunerated social status rather than wealth. This type doesn’t fall in love very easily, because love tends to interfere with the aggrandizement directive. And many of the men they latch onto are treated as stepping stones to further their public exposure, which also works against love finding any purchase.

FYI the modren sexual market with its economic and cultural incentives to ride the carousel into the Wall somewhat selects against attractive women hooking wealthy men for a lifetime of comfort and security. That option is always in the back of the thot’s head, but more than ever before she is unmoved to urgency by its siren call. This will likely change when penury and menace sweeps Western nations once again.


i’m real torn on this phenomenon as it pertains to the Maul Right. their T & A gets eyeballs where there normally would be none, but the Maul Right is rife with betas and white knights that are easily weakened and coaxed off message by Brit’s pouty lips or Lauren’s cosplay selfies. i disagree with Roosh on a lot but i agree with him on the imminent dangers here.

Taken in isolation, I don’t have a problem with cuties jamming the airwaves with their girlythoughts. In the aggregate, though, I agree that paradigmatic shifts in thinking and revolutionary movements are best led by men, of men, and for men, because men make the sacrifices in dire times. The women will, and should in a healthy sociosexual system, follow.

As for beta male thirst, yes it’s been discussed ad nauseam here and elsewhere that social media amplifies the thirst to pathological affliction, and likewise blows up the egos of oftentimes marginal SMV women who ultimately pay the price for their short-term ego boost by refusing to settle down until the settlin’ down’s out of reach for them.

Every girl has a bit of Famedigger in her. Not every girl can act on the impulse. Those that can, often do.

Famedigger and Woman are practically synonymous for the very simple explanation that women are ATTRACTED TO, AROUSED BY, AND LUBE UP TORRENTIALLY FOR famous men. That these women, when in the company of famous men, get to experience a little of that fame for themselves is icing on the handsome rake.

So most Famediggers swarm the spotlight because that’s where the famous alpha men are. Others, perhaps including our intrepid thots, seek fame for its own sake, and use famous men — specifically, beta famous men who aren’t at ease with their newfound HSMV and don’t know how to exploit it — to vault themselves into the public consciousness, where they can display their….minds….to a much larger audience of men. It’s every woman’s most cherished fantasy to be the object of desire of many (alpha) men, their coy protestations to the contrary notwithstanding.

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*cracks knuckles*

Leaning in, kung fu grip of +100 mate guarding, forehead cuddling PDA.

Verdict: beta body language

Assessment: trouble brewing

This power couple is Martin Sellner and Brittany Pettibone, renowned figures in the It’s Self-Evidently Awesome to be White revolution. Sellner fronts a European “Identitaire” group, but don’t hold me to that. I don’t follow these things closely.

Does their pose remind you of anyone?

I know there’s a post in the CH archives about cheekpecker guy above, but I can’t be bothered to search for it. Anyhow, I remember the romance did not end well for him (nor did it start well for him).

The lean-in with goopy canoodling is the international symbol of anxious betatude. All men should strive to avoid it, especially when cameras are pointed at them.

A few readers have objected to Sellner’s skinny fit purple pants, green sneakers, and man purse (excuse me, European handbag). That’s not much of a hit against him, tbh. It’s classic peacocking, and it works if paired with a confident jerkboy attitude. His bigger problem is that his body language betrays an Inner Niceguy. If Brittany’s ardor wanes, it won’t be because of his floodwater purple jeans.

To his credit, Sellner does strike a legit contrapposto pose, the ideal Davidian stance that girls love across time and space.

Why do I tease Brittany? Because she’s totes adorb, and it’s what I do with adorable girls. I can’t help it, it’s in my mischievous DNA. (Sellner may be adorable, but I wouldn’t know. All men are ugly to me.) I mean no disrespek to the Movement Minxes. I wish these two the best, but Manpurse is gonna have to step up his body language game if he wants to heave Brittany the bone. Call it tough love.

Martin, less of what you’re doing in that snap above, and more of this:

You’ll thank me later.

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All girls are judgmental, but not all girls pretend otherwise. In your thigh adventures, you’ll come across a subspecies of chica who flirts by cutting men down to size and watching their reactions. She’s the Crisis and Observation Girl [COG]. If you can take both barrels of her muffshot without flinching, she’ll clear a snatch path for you.

The COG can be vicious. The worst of them can incite an omega male to suicidal ideation and a beta male to an SMV-cratering explosion of butthurt spite. Many wannabe alphas are brought low as well, unprepared as they are for the COG’s gleeful sadism.

What’s the COG’s MO? She quickly finds your weakness, and ruthlessly exploits it for personal gain or public spectacle. Subconsciously, she’s testing your jerkboy mettle. The man who makes the grade can set the tone of the seduction from that point onward.

The COG is brash. Politeness bores her. When she rejects you, she wants to relish the pain of her stinger piercing your soul. The Cog won’t hesitate to defy social convention; she’ll confront suitors with barbs like “You’re weird”, “You have food stuck in your teeth”, “Try a different girl, this right here *waves hands over you*…this isn’t working for me”, “You’re too old/young/ugly/boring/hipster for me to care”, and my favorite “I can’t believe you thought you had a chance!”.

Obviously, we’re dealing with a girl who could be a clinical sociopath. But stay the course, Chadington Cockmonster, because it doesn’t take a lot of skill — only state control — to crush her outer defenses for an easy victory march to her soft, chewy center. The COG is if nothing else easily impressed by unflappable jerkboys (she’s used to men crumpling in a heap of mortification or lashing out in impotent rage, so the jerkboy of refined emotional continence is her dreamboat.)

Now we get to the choicest cuts of this post: how to reply.

I have a go-to line that I’m ready to share with you. It’s multipurpose, effective at deflating any COG, no matter how bitchy. A warning: say it with a nonchalant smirk. Not anger. A hint of anger will cause the line to backfire.

GIRL: You’re too [X].

TRUMP’S RECENTLY HIRED PERSONAL ASSISTANT: I didn’t ask for your approval.

A variation on the line, if it suits you: “I don’t remember asking for your approval/opinion.”

It’s a line that thoroughly takes the wind out of a COG’s sails. Sure, she’ll try some comeback — “well i’m giving it” for example — but it will invariably sound feeble. The subtext — or subcommunication — in the line is critical to understanding its power: it at once disqualifies yourself from chasing her and it implies she’s chasing you for a reaction. It’s a script flip move.

A short buddy of mine used to drop this line whenever girls would mention his height (it happened enough for him to be prepared to hear it — the urban jungle is full of nasty womans). He would follow up with “but good job noting the obvious”.

This shit test counter strategy is a part of the “assume the sale” Game technique. The framing created by the line puts the girl in the position of the outsider striving to make an impression on a higher SMV man. Girls love to be in that position. Another variation on the same theme:

GIRL: You’re weird.


Give it a whirl in the field and let us know how it goes.


Hawk comments,

Her: you’re weird

Master of his Domain: children should be seen and not heard.

Her: can’t believe that you thought you had a chance.

Butthurt: bitch
Beta: uh uh….stammers.
Alpha level bronze frame: chance to get you pregnant? Slow down, honey, I barely know you.
Alpha level silver frame: I don’t recall asking your opinion (no smile)
Alpha level gold frame: quit stealing my negging lines, perv (smirks)
Alpha level nuclear frame: stop staring at my crotch when you say that. (Laser eye.)

The mastery of the riposte distinguishes butthurt from nuclear ZFG. The nuclear frame gives the subtext that you can ditch her for another at a moment’s notice, i.e. dread game. Verbal and physical communication must be in sync for this to work.

Outcome Independence is the psychological essence of alpha maleness. Assume the Sale is the tactical essence of alpha maleness.

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Ugly Truth Of The Day

There are none more bitter than the smart, accomplished woman with the quick tongue who aggressively holds court with the men, smugly glowing in her belief that she’s winning them over, only to retire the night watching those same men gravitate into the company of less intellectually aggressive, prettier girls.

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Gaily skipping along, was a mischievous sneak, on this joyous International Women’s Day, when a fortuitous Assening occurred and the firmament poured forth a perfectly formed testament to the sacrifices and contributions women have made to international internationality. To honor and celebrate ARE WAHMEN, beings of pure light and goodness beholden to no law of reason or accountability, I present…the perfect ass.

(note: photo may or may not have been taken on International Women’s Day)

Is this a stalker-ish snap of a random hottie’s pert derriere? You bet! But a wise shitlord once said, “what good does it do a man to publicly splash the squeezable asses of his sexy intimates, when his trouser eye can spy the fine behind of a stand-in twin who tweren’t the wiser for it?” Ergo: Ass memorialized.

Women will receive a lot of vapid encomiums and treacly today from mangina suckups, and they will politely thank their coterie of fluffers with appreciative emojis, but I guarantee the chickadee in this pic, if she were to stumble across the Chateau’s shrine to her behind, this pasture of assture, would be far more flattered than if she were to get yet another #heforshe hashtag shout-out from a thirsty beta.

We here at the Chateau have a motto: Asstags before hashtags.

On a more serious topic, what makes the perfect ass? Allow me.

It must sit atop slender legs (preferably long, but short can work in a pinch (heh))

It must emerge like a lava dome from a lovely swayback.

And anchored to a lithe upper body.

Steered by a pretty face (preferably White, but swarth can work in a pinch (heh)).

It is round, and firm, and unblemished by cellulite or spots.

It is framed with exquisite attention to detail and form, erupting from a waist 0.7 times the width of her hips, filling out a space in three dimensions, the fleshy width no wider than the structural hips, the height approximately 2/3rds the width, the depth (protrusion) from the pelvic wall approximately 2/3rds the height. Aka the Pooper Apportion.

Finally, the crack is symmetrical and modestly pruned, ending below the back dimples, and nestling within incomparable delights.

What the Perfect Ass is not:



Extra wide





On that last trait, a definition:

Steatopygia is a high degree of fat accumulation in and around the buttocks.

The deposit of fat is not confined to the buttock regions, but extends to the outside and front of the thighs, forming a thick layer reaching sometimes to the knee.

This is a widespread genetic trait of the Khoisan (more commonly known as Bushmen). […]

Steatopygia is often accompanied by the formation of elongated labia (labia minora may extend as much as 4 inches (10 cm) (!) outside the vulva).

Look how a Boer in the XVIII the century describes this trait:

“The lining of the body appears to be loose, so that in certain places part of it dangles out. They have to themselves this peculiarity from other races that most of them possess finger-shaped appendages, always double, hanging down from the private parts; these are evidently nymphae (labia minora).”

James Cook, the famous British navigator, noted in 1771, while passing by Cape colony:

“The great question among natural historians, whether the women of this country have or have not that fleshy flap or apron which has been called the Sinus pudoris. The most recent testimony of travellers commands us to put the cutaneous ventrale of female Hottentots in the same category as the human tail, and in like manner to relegate it to the fables.” […]

It seems that steatopygia in both sexes was common in early types of Homo sapiens.

Come for the perfect ass (heh), stay for the accidental realtalk.

PS A science-y word to describe the perfect White woman ass is callipygian {adj, “having well-shaped buttocks”}.

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NewYorkerParody stumbles on a good reason to judge a woman by the job she keeps: it could be a warning of future infidelity:

I think the best possible wife material is a preschool teacher: Cute, employed (but inevitably makes less than you), in a motherly/nurturing career, not surrounded by alpha males, has to get up early, has summers off so she can watch the kids (I.e. no expensive summer camps; you can take family vacations). Contrast this w/ a wife who travels/works in sales.

If this sounds familiar to old-time Chateau readers, it should. From a 2007 CH post “What a girl’s job tells you“:

Elementary School Teacher

Pure gold.  Put this girl on your short list for long term commitment.  What’s not to love about the elementary school teacher?  Cute, thin (it’s a workout chasing kids all day), ultra feminine, nurturing, selfless, caring, and most importantly blessedly low maintenance due to the nature of her workplace environment sequestering her from the attentions of men.  The best ones teach 1st through 5th grades.  Women who supervise daycare are too toddler-focused and will love the kids more than you.  You will soon tire of her coo-ing at every baby you both pass by.  High school teachers are too stressed out from their job to properly service your manly needs at home.  Don’t bother with college professors unless you think foreplay is listening to an earful of pomo feminist shrillness.
Bonus:  teachers don’t make much money so your financial status will always be higher, guaranteeing a long and healthy relationship.
Sexual Satisfaction Rating:  3/4th erection
Long Term Potential Rating:  hope diamond (she’s not gonna have much opportunity to cheat at work)

The world is converging on a conventional wisdom that is indistinguishable from Chateau teachings. In a few years, anchors on the locals at 8 will be saying diversity + proximity = war and citing the relevant studies linked at this blog.

It wasn’t mentioned in the original CH post on this topic, but a yuge cuckoldry risk red flag is a woman with any kind of job that requires extensive business travel. Any men looking to wife up a faithful companion should steer clear of women with enough frequent flyer miles to EatPraySlut the four corners of the world with swarthers from afar.

You may as well call it United Cucklines.


What about men who travel a lot for their jobs? Aren’t they risking a cuckolding when they leave their lovers behind to keep home an hearth in wait for their return?

Yes and no. The risk of cuckoldry is higher with traveling women, because they interact with more alpha males on the road than the homebound woman does in her time alone while her man is away on business. Naturally, women can get lonely, and a man who’s traveling all the time opens himself to getting cucked by a sneaky fucker loitering back home and whispering emotional lube juice in the romantically starved hausfrau’s ear. But in general women’s hearts grow fonder for ambitious men who must be on the road a lot….to a point, beyond which the local butcher’s eyeplay starts to catch her attention.

Another thing to keep in mind: women in jobs that require a lot of travel are typically low E, high T manjaws gunning for the brass ring. That is, the type of woman who might not think twice about fucking a co-worker in a flyover Marriott to scratch an itch (or jingle a tingle).

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