Compendium Of Female Super Shit Tests

A reader asks,

Dear Heartiste

I wonder if you could do a post specifically on some super powerful shit tests that women use and how you’d handle them.

That could be very enlightening.

Super powerful shit tests that a man will commonly encounter in his dealings with women? Why, yes, I believe we can do that. Herewith is a short list of what I call “Super Shit Tests” that women from all walks of life use with predictable regularity, and what I’ve found to be superb replies for handling them. Are you amazed that women — unique special snowflakes every one of them — would reflexively resort to ancient hindbrain algorithms linguistically fitted to cultural constraints as a method of filtering alpha males from beta males? Don’t be! It’s no more amazing than that men — unique special snowflakes every one of them — would reflexively ogle the same young cuties with large pert breasts and firm buttocks.

“[Man X] always gets his girlfriend [Y]. When was the last time you got me [Y]?”

Don’t get caught in a game of beta-upmanship. Appeasement never works, especially on women, who are the equivalent of the Third Reich in their response to Neville Chamberlain game. Instead, reframe to the point of absurdity.

“I got you some gold bullion for your birthday coming up. You can sit on it and luxuriate like a princess!”

“Are you a player?”

Any man who is halfway charming with women will hear this super shit test at least a few times in his life. There are a multitude of effective replies to this particular SST. Here is one of them:

“Player? Hell no. I’m a PIMP! Hold on, one of my ten thousand concubines is calling me.”

“Give me your number instead.”

Watch out, this is a beta male trap. Most betas would be relieved that any number exchange is taking place. You, aspiring alpha, know better.

“Sorry, I don’t give out my number.” Then ignore, and request her number again later.

“I don’t give out my number.”

The script is the inverse of the above. You’ve asked for her number, and she refused. A girl who says this isn’t sufficiently attracted yet. You need more time flirting with her. A good segue would be:

“I guess we’ll have to rendezvous, the old-fashioned way, like Parisian lovers on the run.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

Probably the most common, and most destructive of beta male hopes, super shit test that women lean on. You can never know with certainty if the boyfriend excuse is sincere or expedient, but you can neutralize it regardless of its veracity. For example, here’s one thermonuclear reply.

“You never listen to me.”

“What?” This reply never fails to elicit a grudging smile. But don’t overuse it. After the third time, say “Look, don’t make impossible demands on me that no normal person could fulfill. You want to be with a man, or with a voice recorder?”

“Do I know you?”

Sharp-mouthed sarcastocunts will occasionally drop SST bombs like this one. The best replies are arrogant and cocky, since that’s the type of man these kinds of girls love the most. Ex:

“You will.”

“How may girls have you been with?”

Any reply but a straight one will do here. Reductio ad absurdum is a logical fallacy, but it’s also a winning seduction tactic. Ex:

“Counting Alaska?”

“What are you looking for?”

When things start to heat up, a woman will often pop this dreaded, baiting question. Good reply:

“A delicious ham sandwich.”

“Stop staring at me.”

Really bitchy SSTs can be answered with shiv twists. Ex:

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“That [X] you’re wearing is ridiculous!”

The key here is to prove that her judgmentalism hasn’t flustered you. Ex:

“Thank you. My mom bought it for me.”

“You’re not my type.”

“Neither are you. See that? We have so much in common!”

“Come hang out with me and my friends.”

She’s testing your skillfulness at evading the friendzone. Worst thing you can do is agree. Better, assume the sale:

“Good. Your friends will make sure you don’t try to grope me. I need to be wined and dined first.”

“Does this work on other girls?”

“Only the cute ones.” (Not a CH original, but probably the best reply to this particular SST that you can use. Remember, gina tingles are born when a woman is in the defensive crouch.)

“When are you gonna settle down?”

“Why? You auditioning for the part?” Assume the sale, part 2.

“If you impress me, you might get a shot at this!” [wiggles hips]

Girls who are a little above average in attractiveness and on the wrong side of 25 often use SSTs like this one to self-administer their shaky egos. She is forcing you into her frame where she’s the chased, and you’re the chaser. Solution? Flip the script.

“Does this work on other guys?”

“What are you doing??”

Sometimes you’ll get this SST from a girl when you’ve gone in for the kiss before she’s ready for it. Or, more precisely, before she’s ready to concede her attraction for you. A reply I like, said with a straight face:

“Crocheting.”

“You’re not the jealous type, are you?”

Attention whores love this SST, and will often deploy it right after you’ve eyed them flirting with another man, (or group of men). One of my favorite replies is to insinuate that the girl wants me to be jealous so she can feel desired.

“For a price, I can be.”

******

That’s enough for now. The Compendium of Female Super Shit Tests is a running series, so there will be future posts with more added. Know that shit tests are typically expressions of interest, but that occasionally they can be revealed indicators of disinterest. And also know that it doesn’t really matter which expression is operative; your strategy is to leapfrog over them so that interest is intensified, or disinterest is reconsidered.

Read Full Post »

Unemployed, Alcoholic Badboy Game

A 30 year old couglet writes to Slate’s Emily Yoffe (first mistake) about the strange pull that an unemployed, alcoholic alpha male ex-fling badboy has on her romantic imagination, while a loyal and NICE dentist betaboy who’s practically begging her to marry him can’t seem to fire up her loins. Bonus track: The badboy nearly gave her herpes.

I would leave everything I have to be with [the guy who almost gave me herpes and dumped me after a weekend of multiple orifice violating that I wouldn’t dream of allowing my beta dentist fiance to do to me].

Five minutes of alpha…

A regular CH reader, Zombie Shane, left a comment over at Slate (amazingly left undeleted) which sent the femborgs and manboobs ululating into righteous, backboob swinging, indignation.

Two points:

1) Women are incapable of knowing what they want – if they knew what they wanted, then they’d be men.

2) What this particular woman wants is what every woman wants – the gina tingles which come from the dangerous liaisons with an “alpha” cad – not the bed-death predictability which comes from entering into the prison which is married life with a boring, dependable, politically-correct, utterly emasculated “beta” dad.

Alpha cads, not beta dads.

That’s what women want.

So either dentist dude can step it up a notch, grow a pair, and start acting like a man, or else he can prepare [or at least he ought to prepare] for a lifetime of raising a family full of children who were biologically sired by the likes of her tennis instructor at the country club.

“dutchshepherdconspiracytheory” replies,

Oh so glad one of the menz could tell me what I wanted.

Anyone who (erroneously) pluralizes words with the letter z is guaranteed to be a triple-chinned nerdo leftoid or cauliflower-thighed chunkster chick. No exceptions.

Is it the alcoholism, unemployment or herpes that women love about sexy badboys? No. What women love about them is their ATTITUDE.

The attitude dictates that you don’t care whether she comes, stays, lays, or prays. I mean whatever happens, your toes are still tappin’. Now when you got that, then you have the attitude.

The Attitude is sex panther cologne reformulated to work 100% 100% of the time. The Attitude is powerful enough to induce in women a quasi-catatonic, chronically orgasmic state that renders them unable to discriminate against men failing on several objective measures of conventional mate worth. Many sexy cads with venereal diseases, low future time orientation and crippling addictions do well with women because they possess The Attitude, and that is often all that’s needed to outcompete beta males for drilling rights to women’s peak nubility hearts.

Read Full Post »

The Number One Move That Will Attract A Girl And Turn Her Against Self-Annihilating Leftoidism

I learned this trick during a stint as a roadie for an arena rock band. If you can’t trust advice about women from a rock star bathed in the afterglow of a ███████████ orgy, what dating advice can you trust? So he told me, “█████████████”, and “███████”, and I waited an hour backstage for the follow-up demonstration.

It worked like ███████. I’d seen things, but this moment was revelatory. A full ten minutes into the ██████, the young vixen’s face flushed from ██████ and █████, I was convinced. A safe enough amount of time has passed since that ████████ that I can reveal the secret of the quasi-neoreactionary rock stars to you.

Essentially, it boils down to this one word: ████████. Lead your conversation in this manner, and the dominoes fall in order. Her ███████ will ██████ like an old growth forest, and her ██████ will erupt in a confetti storm of ███████ rupturing all her ███████ until she is █████ in your presence.

I tried it on a red-haired ingenue. Her █████ quickly melted to relieved ██████, and it wasn’t but a half hour later when she was begging me to █████ a line of ████ off her ███. I thought at the time it was a request straight from central ████, a banal cliche, but there are some cliches so █████████ that they are worth experiencing unironically, in all their raunchy ████████. What can I ███? I’m a sucker for sappy pay-offs.

Afterward, she whispered a terse sweet-nothing in my ear:

“█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

███████████████████████████████████████ ,”

and I knew right then that this was the girl I would ███████████.

Note: The author has had to redact material in light of recent news that the American government is spying on any and all communication taking place between free citizens. The author regrets this necessity, but believes it a small price to pay to fight terrorism and nativist restrictionists who would shut the borders to the free flow of terrorists.

Read Full Post »

The Official Spinster Logo

Imagine this on a T-shirt. You’d open so many sets wearing this because girls won’t be able to resist shit testing you about it. When they do, ask them if they want to be a member of A.S.S. — the American Spinster Society. Tell them you’re working hard to eradicate judgmentalism and loneliness from the world.

Read Full Post »

Body Men Vs Face Men

If a man is presented with a choice between a butterface (ugly face, hot body, everything “but her face”) and a myspace angle (cute face, ugly body), his decision will depend in part on whether he’s down for a short-term fling or if he’s seeking a long-term lover.

The reason for this is not hard to figure out upon reflection: the prime directive is to survive and reproduce, and that means, for men, getting seed into womb (or wombs, as the opportunity may present). A man with pump and dumps on his mind will shift focus to girls with highly fertile bodies, placing less emphasis on their faces. His dividing rod will target women with 0.7 WHRs, 17-23 BMIs, fruitfully ripening in the age range of 22-29. Since he’s not planning on investing much time or energy in his little red curvette, he doesn’t sweat the worry of romantically gazing into the limpid eyes of a plain jane year after year.

A man who is more K-selected, i.e., more NW European white or East Asian (ain’t I a steenker!), feels a cosmic pull toward hitching himself to a woman for the long term so that his few kids have a shot to thrive in a resource-restricted environment. It’s the quality over quantity strategy. To this man, a woman’s facial prettiness matters, a lot. He’s gotta look at her and provide for her for a long time, and he won’t be much inspired to do either if her face isn’t intoxicating. The body is still important (fat chicks left out in cold again, news at 11), but now the contours of her face have become a crucial determinant of her acceptability as a mate. His dividing rod will be recalibrated toward younger women — ages late adolescence to mid-20s — with large, expressive eyes, small chins and jaws, and exquisitely molded subcutaneous fat deposits.

This is the theory. In practice, such choices rarely come up, because there is a strong correlation between a woman’s facial prettiness and her body attractiveness. When a rift between body and face does occur in the same woman, it is typically a butterface. Homely-faced women with slender boffable bodies are more common than pretty-faced women with unappealing bodies. Fat chicks stir the needle a little toward myspace anglers, but just a little, because it doesn’t take much weight gain until a girl’s face begins to display the deformity that is evident in her body. Another example of the myspace angler is the masculinized woman with a striking model-esque face tethered to a curveless body built for spiking volleyballs.

Another point worth making is that men, regardless of their mating strategies, will only choose between butterfaces and myspace anglers when they HAVE to choose. Most men, given a free choice, will choose women who are blessed with both. Plotting cads and plodding dads will both choose the woman who has it all, face and body (and yeah, personality too, I guess) if such a woman is a real prospect.

Originally, this post was meant as conjecture, based on observation and hunch. But to my surprise, there are ♥♥♥STUDIES♥♥♥ available for perusal which have looked into the issue of male preference for female body versus female face and how that preference might change depending on a man’s mating strategy. These studies, naturally, confirm CH hunches, as they almost always do, because it’s hard to be disproven by SCIENCE when you simply keep your eyes open to watch how the world works.

PS The Area Code Rating System is a handy method for efficiently categorizing your dates by their bangability and relationship worthiness. If you regularly hook up with 000s, might I suggest you lay off the absinthe?

Read Full Post »

Bearing Witness To The Self-Destruction Of The Western Woman

We have a guest posting today from a reader who passes along a story from his life which illustrates in vivid hues how the Western woman has become severed from the reality of the world and now chooses to live in escapist fantasy. This is an anecdote; there are many more stories like it. Reach a critical mass (heh) of these tragicomedies of the self-swindled and you can kiss America goodbye as a civilizational rampart.

******

I hope this email finds you in good heath. As the title suggests I am writing to you as I wish to bear personal witness to the self-destruction of the Western woman. Names and some details have been changed to protect the guilty. Of course you may use my email for your site, but do avoid using my real name. Instead call me… Cornelius… because it in no way resembles my actual name.

A little over ten years ago I met a girl through a friend of a friend. Her name was Francesca. No, this is not a tale of beta woe. Nothing romantic has ever happened between us and there has never been any attraction. Francesca was, even back then, a bit on the chunky side. I didn’t think much of her at first but as I got to know her better I realized we had some things in common and became friends with her. We kept in semi-consistent contact over the years, which has led to the situation today where she is temporarily staying with me while she is looking for a job. The circumstances leading up to this is the (self-destructively) interesting part.

Francesca was a good student in high school and was given a free ride to State-U where she majored in engineering (the same as what I majored in, which is one of the things our friendship was created over). Four years later she graduates and lands a job at well known firm bringing in about $50,000 a year. At this point she is 22 years old. Fast forward to when she turns 25 and we meet one day for lunch and a friendly catch up. She is very bored with her job and feels like she is doing nothing with her life (to be fair to her, I’ve done similar work as she was doing at the well-known-firm and it is very boring) so she has decided to give it all up and go back to college… for a degree in Art. I’m a little vague on the specifics of the degree, but the major she choose has something to do with drawing cartoons. Seems like a bit of an odd choice to me, but meh whatever it’s not my life. This is also where she mentions that she’ll have to take out student loans this time, but is confident everything will turn out ok. Now this did raise a bit of an alarm bell for me because she had been working the past three (or was it four? I’m a little vague on the exact timing) years bringing in $50k while living rent free in her parents home. Didn’t she have any money she could put forward to college? It’s not like she was a big “vacations and shopping sprees” girl. She was an engineer, and had the personality of one to match.

After she was in Art School for a while I ended up moving to a different part of the country for my job. Let’s fast forward again to today. It has been over a year since she graduated from Art School with her degree in… drawing cartoons… or something… and she still has no Art job. We had stayed in touch while she had been in college for a second time and it turns out that there are more art studios where I live than where she has been living, so I agree to host her for a time, while she tries to get on her feet and get an Art job.

Here’s where things take their bizarre (and self-destructive) turns. I haven’t seen chunky Francesca in person in about three years, but when she arrives she has turned into blimped-out Francesca. This was a bit of a startling change to me.  When I say blimped-out I want you to understand what I am getting at. Imagine a baby with all its chub and creases. Now imagine a fully grown adult version of all that chub and creases and you’ll get an idea of what Francesca now looks like.

It also turns out that she’s had a falling out with two of her hot friends. By “hot” I mean one of these girls has literally done modeling and the other could if she wanted to. When I asked her about her hot friends she was openly bitter about them, vague as to the cause of the falling out and made the comment that their looks “were the only thing they had going for them”. Well when a girl is model-hot that’s pretty much all she needs. Also, her hot-friends had a free ride to State-U so they couldn’t have been all that stupid. It’s interesting how since Francesca has blimped-out that she now makes regularly derogatory comments about attractive women. Except that it’s not interesting so much as a neon flashing sign of bitterness of Francesca’s own loveless state. In all the years I knew Francesca she had only one boyfriend she was lukewarm to. Perhaps she should have reconsidered while she was still only chunky.

While hanging out together a few times at some local spots she repeatedly mentions how she wishes it were obvious to other people that her and I were not there “together” because she found several of the men rather attractive. She was literally purring at one of them. I told her she should feel free to do whatever she likes in regards to these men, but on the inside I was thinking “madam, your shape is round and not even vaguely woman-like, none of these men would want you regardless of how much alcohol they had”.

Also, she seems to have formed a pathological attraction to my dog. Francesca will follow my poor black lab around the house trying to treat it like human child. He’ll only put up with so much of that before he will actually find places to hide (I never knew he could fit behind the sofa… I guess he never had the proper motivation before). This from a a woman who has adamantly and always held that she was never going to have children.

After she was here for about two weeks, we decide to visit some local attractions. While seeing the sights we stop at a local Starbucks for some caffeine and a seat. While there we engage in an interesting discussion about her student loans. Right now she is in loan deferment, but that time is soon coming to a close. To my shock it turns out that she took out $175,000 in student loans for her Art degree in drawing cartoons… at a 15% interest rate… and they expect her to pay it back in 10 years, which means she will be paying back about $338,000. (O_o) My calculator tells me that this is about $2800 per month just to cover her student loans. In case you’re wondering: no, her field of Art does not pay the kind of starting salary to cover that. Her attitude is that the companies that gave her these loans need to be reasonable and work with her. If she gets to the point where she can’t pay and they ruin her credit her attitude is “oh well, what can they really do to me?” (o_O) She also said that if she knew she would be graduating into this kind of economy that she never would have done it. Which makes me wonder exactly what kind of economy we would have to have where $2,800 / month in student loans for a degree in cartoon drawing would make sense.

Now I don’t know about you, but if I were in her position I’d be in crisis mode about now. Next Friday she will have been here for a month and as far as I can tell she spends most of her time in her room browsing the web or watching Mad Men. I did let her know at the start that after a “month or two” she would have to start paying rent if she wished to continue to stay here. As far as I know she has made no attempt to find even a part-time job.

What has happened to the West? There are days I seriously wonder if I am not surrounded by a large amount of people who have basically become un-moored from reality. And what happened to my friend? Francesca goes from pudgy nerdy engineering chick to blimped-out, money vacuuming, introverted, child-shaped-emotional-holing, rage against the pretty hate machine.

May the Gods of the Dark Enlightenment guard your safety,

Cornelius

******

Greg Cochran says that the trends currently underway in the West are unsustainable. America as an advanced technological and moral civilization is doomed, absent some sort of active intervention to thwart the collapse, whether that collapse takes the form of a sudden conflagration or a slow deterioration. But of course any such intervention would first require the ruling class accept the facts of the dysgenic trends, and stop their wallowing in pretty lies and leapfrogging for status whoring points. I have my doubts the facts will ever be honestly admitted by the lords of lies, so doom it is, and doom we shall get, unless by some cultural alchemical miracle the equalists, leftoids and feminists do a private about-face and essentially craft public policies refuting everything they believe in for the greater good of the nation and her posterity.

It is to HA.

The human ego is much too intransigent for that kind of common sense. Most likely scenario: bitterly clinging to shibboleths until the last iPad flickers out.

Next likely scenario: secession. Or, if the portals of hell open, bloodbath.

In the meantime, we shrug and tappity-tap pleading betaboy texts in our cells as another Western woman sacrifices her inherited bounty and blessed fortune at the altar of fudge brownies, caustic gogrrl-itude, useless art degrees, mountainous college debt, infertility, anthropomorphized animals, racial dispossession, cock carouseling, and the distractions of a sick and twisted entertainment culture intent on assuring her complicity in the humiliation of her heritage and of her men.

Well, not everyone. Your ever-gracious host shrugs, but only after he has cruelly driven The Shiv to the hilt, and tickled vital organs with its glittering tip. The writhing torment of enemies and fools brings voyeuristic pleasure, and great satisfaction knowing that it can never be said of The Shiv Wielder that he saw the face of a malignant foe cresting the hill… but did nothing.

Read Full Post »

Have Guitar, Will Tingle

Once again, science has come around to ♥♥♥♥vindicating♥♥♥♥ folk wisdom and Chateau teachings. This installment of SCIENCE ♥s GAME explores the subtle tricks of perception that mimicking a high social status man can play on women. A recent study found that the mere act of lugging around a guitar case will significantly improve a man’s odds of getting a number close from a woman.

This experiment tested the assumption that music plays a role in sexual selection. Three hundred young women were solicited in the street for their phone number by a young male confederate who held either a guitar case or a sports bag in his hands or had no bag at all. Results showed that holding a guitar case was associated with greater compliance to the request, thus suggesting that musical practice is associated with sexual selection. […]

What happened was that when he wasn’t holding anything he got a number 14% of the time. The sports bag, though, put women off and dropped his average to just 9%.

It was the guitar case that did the trick, bumping up his chances to 31%. Not bad at all considering he was approaching random strangers in the street.

So no matter what you look like, what job you have, how much money you make, or how stylishly you’re dressed, you can arouse more women by demonstrating higher value with an empty guitar case and signaling (falsely, if necessary) that you are a shredder of six strings and snatch.

Female hypergamy don’t give a shit for acceptable signals of male mate value. Female hypergamy don’t give a shit about societally approved male accomplishment. All female hypergamy cares about is that a man *IS* higher status — and thus more socially and psychologically dominant — than herself, regardless of the measurably objective or amorphously subjective nature of that status.

The game lesson here, beside the obvious one — carry a guitar case — should be easily comprehended: adopt the trappings and the behavior of the high status, socially and sexually preselected, dominant male and you, too, will see your romance life improve by 100%. Or better.

Read Full Post »