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Post-Wall:

Rose McGowan made an impassioned speech at the Detroit Women’s Convention on Friday about taking down sexual abusers and rapists in what was her first public appearance since accusing Harvey Weinstein of rape on her Twitter account.

McGowan has been extremely vocal on social media about Weinstein and encouraging women to come forward with their stories — supporting the #MeToo campaign which has gained traction online in recent weeks. […]

“I have been silenced for 20 years. I have been slut shamed. I’ve been harassed. I’ve been maligned … we are one massive collective voice, that is what #RoseArmy is all about …no more will we be shunted to the side. No more will we be hurt. It’s time to rise. It’s time to be brave.”

“No more,” she said to a slew of cheers from the crowd. “Name it. Shame it. Call it out. It’s time to clean house!”

Pre-Wall:

Very few aspiring actresses didn’t know that Harvey Swinestein’s potted plant audition room was an invitation to a starring role in his perversion. Most of them went in aware of the deal. Even a 17-year-old Kate Beckinsale knew what was up with the Swinestein creature.

No one but maybe a handful of truly innocent naive flyover girls has clean hands in the Swinestein affair. You’ve got the depraved shambling mound weinstein, the tribesmen who sat on the story, shabbos goy who took hush money and ran interference, and starfucking sluts willing to bend the knees for a role. How do we know this? Because only the women (and men) willing to suck snipdick are made into stars.

Now a tidal wave of these has-been whores are coming out claiming multitudinous rapes and endless sexual harassment at the crabbed hands of Challahwood gollums. Yep, you bet these guys are no-Game-having degenerates. And you can bet attention whores are gonna attention whore, especially regretful sluts who’ve hit their sexual expiration date and love the idea of playing the victim and absolving themselves of responsibility for their past decisions to whore their bodies for stardom. Moral agency? Hah, don’t mansplain morality to me, sexist!

A lox on all their houses.

PS If you want to know why it’s a problem that ~80% of executives at the six major media companies are jewish, look no further than the reality of the media burying the swinestein saga for years (and similar stories for decades).

What is the purpose of media? Inform the public? haha no. Its purpose is to mold public opinion into the opinions held by those who control the media, which are largely anti-White, anti-Gentile, and anti-Gods of the Copybook Headings.

Fake-n-Bake News achieves its fakeness and bakedness primarily through lies of omission, i.e. framing. A lie of commission is harder to hand-wave. If media says not-A and it was A it has to retract. But leaving out crucial details is how media frames their Narrative and evades complicity. If media says A but is silent on B, they’re in the clear. This is how the Kosher Wall of Silence is sustained. Decades of Challahwood harassment and whoring are hidden from the public by a media that shares the values of Challahwood. A culling of shitlibs from media is the only solution to this problem.

PPS The Harvey Swinestein-ization of America is accelerationism jet fuel. Only good things can come from discrediting the major anti-White institutions and destroying the public’s faith in them. When shitlibs can’t see a movie without thinking of Weinstein’s penis, the Happening is not far off. Challahwood never had moral authority, but they used to have pretensions to moral authority. Now they don’t even have that. Sad for them, great for Heritage America.

PPPS There isn’t a schadenfreude meme bold enough to capture Mel Gibson’s post-swinestein feelings.

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COTW winner Days of Broken Arrows unloads a gauzebomb of nostalgia porn on the CH collective, reminding us that virgins (of hooch and heart) vanish as quickly as they appear.

Thanks for spotlighting my comment about ground floor girls.

In case there are younger guys reading, I want to (re)tell the story about what got me to think about this subject (I’ve written this before elsewhere). One of the sad aspects of growing old is that when you look back at your life, people and things that once seemed trivial become more important than you realized in retrospect.

The first time I ever set foot on college campus, at Freshman Orientation, I met a sweet, very inexperienced girl from a small town. Within hours we were “together.” That night at the sleepover in the dorms we kissed — which I practically had to teach her to do.

But she was “cute” and not sexy or beautiful. She also looked about 12 years old and had no sense of style. All of this and her “small town-ness” put me off. I wanted the hot chick(s).

Which I did get. When I returned home after orientation I started dating a high school hottie I’d been after for a while. I also blew off Orientation Girl without a second thought and without any apparent guilt (until now, ironically enough).

I had a lot of fun in college and dated the aforementioned high school girl as we went through college. But she left for California after graduation. After that I was thrown into the early ’20s dating market. And by then you start to get jaded and meet people who are even more jaded: The women with multiple abortions, countless partners, strange diseases and habits, etc.

Decades later, I was able to track Freshman Orientation Girl down on Facebook. She got married and stayed married (to someone who is a lot like me, funny enough). She looked too young back in college, which was bad. Now that quality is good.

My advice to any young guy reading this is that you probably already know the woman who would make a great wife, but you’re passing her up to ride the male version of the carousel. Unless women like these become young widows, you won’t have the chance to meet them again because they get pulled off the market and stay off the market. Forever.

The fact that age of first marriage and total marriage rate have been rising and falling respectively for at least the last twenty years, it’s less likely now than it used to be that the inexperienced ground floors girls leave the market early and stay off for the duration (unto death). What’s happening now is the innocent and pure of heart girls are being left high and dry by men OR are seduced by the urban slutstyle and get caught in a hamster wheel of endless dating, breaking up, and blossoming bitterness. So you as a man are less likely to later “miss out” on those special ho-flakes if you don’t nab them before college….however, you will miss out on monopolizing their pure-of-pussy hearts.

That’s not a trivial consideration. All it takes is two partners (read: cocks) for a woman’s risk of divorcing you to skyrocket.

DoBA’s wistful jaunt through his lass-shaped past reminds me of something else; a sort of quasi-ephebophilia (love for younger women in the (legal) 18-22 age range) is the natural sexual state for men past high school. That girlish-looking 18-year-old girl may be insufficiently womanly for horndog 22 year old men, but when those men hit their late 20s-early 40s stride, those neotenous women they once spurned now look like prized poon compared to the cows surrounding them. Neoteny ages well on women. It’s related to the concept of residual reproductive value: older men who are ready to build a family empire have a natural instinct to lock down very young (or young-looking) women because those women will age better and provide many more enjoyable years of bedroom intimacy. Female youthfulness is THE leading indicator of maximum remaining fertility.

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From Girl Next Door to Sassy Slut, knowing what kind of girl you’re dealing with is the first step to tailoring your Game for a proper fit. Hawk explains what to say to a girl in your room late at night, who has demurred (a bit late in the hour) that she has a boyfriend,

Know your audience.

If she’s willing to be in your rooms alone despite the boyfriend she’s already decided that you might be worthy of her…seriously if her instinct was put into words out loud it would sound like that.

Verbal witty responses work differently depending on the girl.

“No you don’t ” is teasing the kid sister response. Funny, but not mean. Best used on the girl next door type.

“Really? Don’t see him here though.” More edgy, best used on the proto-THOT.

“Does the chastity belt chafe much?” A-hole response to the entitled HB7 plus.

“Not anymore you don’t” with a caress to her face, laser eye, is for the girl you’re interested in keeping around.

Your goal is to make her want to please you by forgetting about the boyfriend. Betas acknowledge the girl’s charms prior to her acting to please, alphas do so afterwards.

Hawk’s advice is similar to the Chateau’s recommendations on the use and suitability of Asshole Game. Age and innocence affect how well, or badly, a woman will respond to jerkboy charm. With some chicks, you gotta finesse it. With others, you gotta swing a whetting warhammer into her pussy.

Younger women are riper targets for asshole allure. Older women who have lost some of the sheen on their SMVeen will feel alienated and even rejected by a man giving them too much outcome independent jerkitude.

Age isn’t the only determinant of female receptiveness to male assholery. As Hawk wrote, sluttier, sassier girls will need more evidence of a man’s guttural disregard for her. She has seen things you betas wouldn’t believe…attack chads grinding on her posterior…she watched cum beads glitter in the dark near her cockhouser gate…all those cummings will be lost in time…like aborted fetuses in pain.

But the girl next door — a rare creature, worth yeoman seduction effort to despoil — might recoil at being assumed a sassy lass. Your assholery may make you seem unattainable to her, and cause her despair when she believes you are only toying with her. She likes a self-assured man but she hasn’t the constitution nor the sexual experience to handle your jerktruth. Proceed gracefully, accepting that her soft innerspace is sensitive to impudent cock shocks.

Where a girl resides on the Thot Spectrum — a Thotarchy if you will — that runs on the left from the preserved innocence of the nicest of virgin Amish coquettes, all the way to the right where you’ll find the bluest of blue-haired, bull ring-pierced aggrosluts, will give a hint to her need for a mental dicking. It stands to reason you as a man of taste of wealth must attune your assholery to the receptiveness of the woman in your hosshairs. This isn’t a green light to go Retard Beta and turn yourself into an asexual piece of furniture. It’s just a warning that your alpha attitude can and should be communicated in a fashion to suit the listening habits of your target audience.

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You’ve got a limbically lubed girl on your sofa. It’s late, the tension is thick (your pants pleats have flattened out). Whoa, tiger! You should know that LMR (last minute resistance) is coming. Are you prepared? Reader Mason shares a very typical anecdote illustrating the precarious tightrope that men must walk between beta orbiter and alpha orificer.

Dear Heartiste Proprietors,

Please allow me to share a wonderful story of how I SO BADLY fucked up and found your blog, which led me to erase the traces of betadom that disrupted and ruined an obviously good opportunity.

I met a cute brunette with blue eyes at an event and she talked about being “stressed about her long-distance relationship with her boyfriend”.

FYI girls don’t bring up problems with their relationships like this unless they are already one labia flap into the idea of cheating.

We hit it off and I asked her to drop me home.

I invited her to come up. She giggled.

The giggle is the loin wriggle vocalized.

I have an apartment by the pool. She stood on my balcony and started talking about her problems, how she had anxiety disorder. I did some light kino by touching her feet (she had a weird foot band on) and putting her hands in my palms.

She then came into my living room and sat down on my close sofa. And said hug me.

Don’t be so quick to hug a woman who solicits it. That’s a mild compliance test to see if you’d fit comfortably into the emotional tampon role instead of the sex god role. I’d have teased her, “hmmm, I dunno if you’re ready….my hugs are potent.” The idea is to get her begging for your hug, and in the mental space where she feels like she’s chasing you.

I did BUT immediately leaned in for a kiss like a moron. She backed off and said “I have a boyfriend”.

That was predictable. What she flung out was classic beta bait. Specifically, she tried a version of the “fishing for flattery” ploy. She’s “anxious” and “stressed” and wants reassurances from you that nothing that has happened — or will happen — is her fault.

Now here’s where I really fucked things up. I’m usually immaculately articulate but I just spaced out and sat back in my seat for an awkward 5 minutes. Her boyfriend messaged her and I told her not to take the text and she agreed. Now, despite my awkward silence for another 10 minutes she didn’t leave and stayed plopped on my sofa with heavy breathing and even said “look at my hair, it’s multi-colored”, asking me to run through it.

You were getting hardcore signals to proceed carrying her to dizzying heights of ecstasy and to ignore whatever empty protests to the contrary she may have thought necessary to squeak out to make herself feel less like a slut. Her “I have a boyfriend” feint was the verbal equivalent of the gif above. “I don’t know how I wound up in his bed, I swear I told him I have a boyfriend!”

She wants to feel desired again; obviously BF is not giving her that. But she won’t just “cheat”, so she’ll structure her seduction in a way that absolves her of responsibility for her hoped-for surrender to you.

I found your blog, Heartiste, and read through a hundred posts. I feel like an idiot because I thought that my typical dominant, aloof personality wouldn’t work on the “sweet, shy, innocent” girls.

Liddl’ betaboys with limited dating experience are often the ones to dishonestly and self-servingly assert that Game only helps men pick up bar skanks, but that is not true, unless they want to stipulate that skanks and non-skanks are essentially different sexes who respond to different male mate value cues. In fact, the girls that fall the hardest for jerkboy charm are the tingle-deprived “sweet” girls who otherwise languish in niceguyland where jerkboy charm is notably absent.

I should have laughed off her silly first kiss rejection shit test and tried again. I should have negged her. She asked me to twirl her fucking hair. I should have escalated kino gradually, asking her to sit on my lap, then kissed her neck, and then kissed her, and then pulled away feigning disinterest. Your stuff is ALL on point.

There’s no way a girl would act this way in the hopes of gaining a “friend” or a beta orbiter, right?

There’s only one way to find out. Force the issue. Make your intentions known, and if she’s insincere she drop her bluff and forget all about her boyfriend.

I mean, the fact that she came up to my room at 11:30pm and stayed for 2 hours alone makes me feel that this was an opportunity beyond obvious and I blew it.

Yes. Or she’s a psychocunt who wanted to torture you with the scent of her lush womanhood and slap your probing lips away when you made a go at it. A (thankfully) tiny minority of women amuse themselves by tempting and rejecting betas in an endless cycle of quasi-dominatrix humiliation.

Nothing lights the fire in your loins (heh) like a rough encounter with reality. Unlike the larpers here I’m not going to pretend I’m a total alpha or anything like it. I’m a young 20s guy with alpha and beta traits and I’ll have to weed out the latter.

This describes most men.

Laugh at me and feel free to share the story with your readers, but goddamnit, I owe you a debt of gratitude for waking me the hell up.

Cheers
Mason

I won’t laugh at you. The mistake you made wasn’t unique to you; many such cases!

Lessons learned:

  1. “I have a boyfriend” is an anti-slut defense if uttered within intimate contexts. If you hear it, relax. It means she’s looking for an excuse to continue being with you. You should have replies at the ready. My favorites are “I don’t care” and “right“. Better yet, ignore her and plow when she drops that line. Don’t give it the dignity of a direct response. Change the topic or shrug your shoulders or get yourself a beer from the fridge.
  2. Always Be Escalating. If she murmurs to you to stop, don’t. Physically escalate as long as she’s giving in to it, and don’t quit unless she’s walking out your door in a hurry. Sure, offer token (and temporary) signals of compliance to her rebuffs, but don’t get down on yourself, don’t sulk, and don’t think this means you have to keep your hands to yourself the rest of the night. If she’s in your bedroom for two hours in the middle of the night, her last minute resistance (LMR) is a perfunctory obstacle she tosses in your way which she fully expects (and hopes) you will hurdle.
  3. Push-Pull is the spice of seduction. If she asks you to run your fingers through her multicolored hair, tease her about it. “I dunno, it looks kinda greasy.” That’s the push. Pull her back by reaching over to gently cradle the back of her neck with your hand, while saying “See, I was right”. Frame everything she says and does as an advance ON YOU; this way you can “reject” her advances, which is a huge turn-on for women. No woman can resist the curiosity incited in them by a man who isn’t slavishly throwing himself at their taunting sex.
  4. Remember the Takeaway and the Freeze-out. If she’s insistently coy and bantering way more than she’s perforating, it’s time to flip the script. Her: “I have a boyfriend.” You: “You’d better not stay here any longer, or you might start getting the wrong idea about me.” Or: “Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself, I don’t see you that way. We hardly know each other.” The Freeze-out is even more powerful. That’s a tactic where you simply get up off the sofa and make yourself a sandwich if she objects to your roving mitts. The key is to be utterly unmoved by her objections, as if you expected it and know she’ll eventually come around (or outlive your patience).

Finally, if you want to experiment with nuclear psy ops that can close the deal (or blow them out) a lot faster than is typical for women, try this bedroom finishing move when a girl agrees to come to your place: tell her she can’t go in your bedroom. When she asks why not, you have a rule that a girl has to be naked before going in there. A surprising number of girls will agree to this rule, and an idealistic young beta’s heart will have suffered another jolt of arrhythmic cynicism.

The bang threshold is similar to the nuptial threshold, except in the former you aren’t legally bound to one pussy for life, don’t have to worry about your savings and imputed income being transferred to fund a new boyfriend, and carrying her over it is a lot easier at her pre-marital weight.

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The Thousand Cock Stare is the vacant crazy-eyed unhinged look that women get when they’ve slutted it up too much and the cavalry of cockas have left psychic scars. It’s a dead womb walking sheen of the eyes that is similar in soul-skinning affect to the “thousand-yard stare” that soldiers manifest when they’ve spent too much time in the charnel fields.

Thankfully, there’s a beautiful inverse of the thousand cock stare that alights on lovely women who’ve devoted their hearts and parts to one man. That is the “thousand tingle ogle”. Any man who has seduced a woman to reckless love knows that look. It’s the look that is at once arousing and comforting to a man, for it says simultaneously, “she will gobble my knob, and no one else’s”. It’s the eyes of a woman who has wedded her lust to her love. Powerful stuff.

A perfect instance of the thousand tingle ogle was caught on camera after a major election win for the forces of Goodness and Whiteness. Count the tingles arcing across the insufferable void between them as pro-nationalist Austrian wünderkind Sebastian Kurz is admired by his girlfriend:

Trump gets that look from women a lot, too. It’s the ocular equivalent of “I’ll let him grab me by the pussy when we get home”.

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An eccentric psychosocial study reveals an abiding truth about women and indirectly validates a core Game concept.

Emotional arousal when watching drama increases pain threshold and social bonding

Fiction, whether in the form of storytelling or plays, has a particular attraction for us: we repeatedly return to it and are willing to invest money and time in doing so. Why this is so is an evolutionary enigma that has been surprisingly underexplored. We hypothesize that emotionally arousing drama, in particular, triggers the same neurobiological mechanism (the endorphin system, reflected in increased pain thresholds) that underpins anthropoid primate and human social bonding. We show that, compared to subjects who watch an emotionally neutral film, subjects who watch an emotionally arousing film have increased pain thresholds and an increased sense of group bonding.

Wew cads. Let’s lick our way to the sploogy goodness at the center of this study.

The shared experience of drama increases pain tolerance and bonding among (active or passive) participants.

Drama.

Drama queens.

Girls.

Shit tests.

Connecting the dots?

We used an emotionally intense made-for-TV film (Stuart: A Life Backwards; 90 min), based on a real-life personal story [38]. The film portrays the life story of Stuart, a disabled and homeless child abuse survivor, often in harrowing detail, and provides a disturbing insight into how a disabled child could end up being driven to prison, drugs, hopelessness, a life on the streets and eventual suicide. In all, 169 participants (101 females; mean age = 24.8 ± 10.2 years, range 18–72) watched the film in a small theatre environment in groups of varying size (mean 11.3, range 2–49). As a control condition, 68 participants (42 females; mean age = 29.7 ± 12.3 years) watched two documentaries (The Museum of Life, Episode One (BBC, 2010; 60 min) and Landscape Mysteries: In Search of Irish Gold (BBC, 2008; 30 min))

CH and other PUAs have long contended that the female shit test is a form of flirtation that women use to filter out weak defensive men and select for self-confident jerkboys, and as such should be viewed as an opportunity for, rather than an obstacle to, romance.

What this research highlights is the essential need of humans, and particularly of women, for drama as social glue and pain reduction. Women shit test male suitors to CREATE THE DRAMA THEY NEED TO SOCIALLY AND LATER SEXUALLY BOND WITH A MAN, and to reduce the pain of hastily acquiescing their vaginas to a passionate impulse.

The shit test is a dramatic fiction novel written by a woman on-the-fly, to bond her more strongly to you as the mutual seduction plays out to its welcome end. Men who take shit tests personally have a complete misunderstanding of it, thinking it’s a personal attack. When they act butthurt or spiteful in reaction, the bonding spell is broken; the woman has lost her partner in drama. But the man who knows that shit tests are a woman’s invitation to keep telling your story and ramping up her buying temperature with dramatic plot lines, twists, and temporary impasses, is the man who will laugh off her shit tests and amplify them to absurdity. Drama.

Seduction is manipulation, and manipulation is goal-oriented communication. To be complicit in one’s seduction is to know the destination but demand the scenic route. A woman wants the scenic route because that’s where the best stories are made and told.

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It’s good to be alpha. Women will let you do things to them that would make Harvey Weinstein fertilize the nearest potted plant.

Beta males should watch this video below for real world proof showing how cute, “good” girls honestly and naturally react in the company of an alpha male. What gets lost in the moral panic about famous men groping women is that, like Trump said, the women LET THEM DO IT. Ben Affleck is to women what a random HB10 is to men: a passcode that unlocks the sexes’ most primal desires.

If you walked up to a girl like that as a total stranger and, after introducing yourself, drunkenly grabbed her all over like Affleck is doing here, I think you can guess what would happen to you.

Fame Game and Power Game are unstoppable arousal triggers and disinhibition stimuli of female sexual desire.

Untutored beta males and insol bitterbitches need to see this side of women, because it’s routinely hidden from social consciousness by anti-male propaganda and by women themselves who don’t want their depraved natures exposed to idealistic young betas who may be their provider hubby fall-backs in ten years time after the cock carousel has made them sore. That pussy pedestal requires a lot of good PR to keep its squeaky clean vajeen sheen.

Male power is both intimidating and intoxicating to women, and as I have argued (and others like commenter PA have as well) the rush of women into the workforce has undermined marriage and poisoned relations between women and the mass of betas who don’t glitter with fame and power, by exposing so many women to alpha male bosses.

Keep in mind that in women there is the natural pleasurable impulse to submit to a dominant man…it’s instinctual really… so when you read women who describe such men as “intimidating”, know that the intimidation psychologically strikes women much differently than it strikes men who would be the natural competitors or worker drones of powerful men. When a woman meets an “intimidating” man there is a part of her that is sexually and romantically aroused, and if conditions are right that part will flourish and manifest at the expense of the cautious part of her. When a man meets an intimidating man, he is aroused to fight, fold, or flee, all of these reactions serving in their particular ways to guard his honor, preserve his dignity, and spare his social status. Sometimes even spare his life.

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