Are Short Women More Desirable Than Tall Women?

In particular, are short women more desirable as girlfriends? Note I used the word desirable, and not “attractive”, which bears an important distinction. Female desirability encompasses more than physical attraction, such as femininity, selflessness, loyalty and temperament. There is evidence that short women are more feminine than tall women because estrogen levels, which inhibit bone growth, are higher in them.

traditional girl writes:

High levels of estrogen halt bone growth. Have you ever noticed that shorter, more finely boned women are (on average) kinder, less competitive, and more feminine? Tall, muscular women with sturdy skeletons and jaws are more likely to have low levels of estrogen and high levels of testosterone.

An article referencing the bone-growth-halting properties of estrogen: http://articles.latimes.com/2007/jan/15/health/he-staturegirls15

In any case, it seems to me that in our ancestral environment, a woman’s kindness, sexual loyalty, cooperative spirit and fertility would have been more important to her mate than her physical strength. She would have been too busy with pregnancies and infants to slaughter a bear.

As an aside, as a heterosexual women, I greatly prefer small-boned, large-breasted women for friendship. They’re more likely to be loyal, sweet, and share my values. I try to avoid tall, large-jawed, small-breasted women. I always get the “I want to screw around, break up relationships and eat babies” vibe from them.

Men are attracted to a woman’s looks first and foremost, but after a while — a few weeks to a few months — a woman’s other assets become important to men, especially men seeking long term relationships. Is she sweet and affectionate? Does she like to cook him dinner? Is she nurturing and does she coo over other women’s babies? Is she an animal lover? Does she prefer to avoid getting into arguments? Does she frequently cede decisions to her man? Does she shy from logic and debate? Is she quick to tear up during sad movies?

Most men, their curmudgeonly ribbing to the contrary notwithstanding, really do love these attributes of the feminine woman. Yes, we may complain about a woman’s runaway emotions, her focus on seemingly trite household matters, or her bleeding heart worldview, but we love them for it. The alternative — dating a woman with a man-like personality, ambition and outlook, however sexy she may be — leaves us feeling like we’re dating an alien impostor, and our instinct to protect and provide for an intrinsically vulnerable lover is muted with such masculine-essenced women.

Looking back on the women in my life, I think there is something to this. The shorter women have been, with few exceptions, more feminine and sweet-natured than the taller women I have dated. (And also more full of charming neuroses.) The short girls were the ones begging me to return to bed after sex so they could get their cuddle fix, while the tall girls would jump out of bed first after getting their rocks off. Hey, if I have things to do, I don’t mind a girl occupying herself after sex, but in the big picture I greatly prefer — and I suspect most men do too — a woman who acts like a stereotypical woman in and out of the bedroom. Unfortunately, women like this are running out in the West.

So maybe estrogen explains why everyone isn’t over six feet tall. Men of all heights are drawn to the feminine allure of shorter women with higher levels of estrogen, and have families with them, rejuvenating the next generation with shorter descendants. Perhaps men also choose these shorter women for family formation subconsciously knowing that they are less of a cuckolding risk than masculinized tall women.

Not that tall women don’t have their advantages. You’ve gotta love those long legs wrapped around you, for one. And if you’re a tall man you don’t have to prop up a tall woman’s behind for easier doggy-style access. Plus, tall women make for more striking arm candy as long as they meet a minimum beauty threshold. It’s just too easy for a hot short girl, sexy though she may be, to get lost in the crowd.

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Shaming Mistresses

A reader writes about a banner put up by an Argentinian wife whose husband had an affair with a woman named Eliana.

So making its rounds as the meme-of-the-day all over twitter/the Internet, about two weeks ago, was this photo of a banner that a scorned woman posted on the street near her house, in a city in Argentina (where I live):

Translated, it means: “Eliana Dora Duek: You enjoyed fucking my husband – and he gave it to you in the ass! Veronica”

Here’s what I don’t understand: why did the scorned woman Veronica *want to publicize to everyone in her neighborhood* that her husband was cheating on her?. What is Veronica thinking, and what is she trying to achieve? And what’s the significance/importance of the “ass” detail?

Women are born with a martyr mentality brain module that guides their every thought process. Thus, when a wife suffers infidelity she does not think that advertising this fact will redound negatively to her. She can announce to the world that her husband cheated on her with a mistress who let him do her in the ass, and the wife won’t ever feel like this embarrasses her in any way. Quite the opposite; she will win allies and supporters to her side.

But a man advertising the fact that his wife made a cuckold of him will win no allies and supporters. People won’t rally around him and give him group hugs to lift his spirits while calling the wife an ungrateful whore. Instead, most people will feel pity for him and want to get far away from his problems.

Why the difference? *Women are reproductively more valuable than men*. People, men and women, are wired to rush to the defense of a scorned woman more readily. It is in the nature of both sexes to immediately assume the worst about the man and the best about the woman in any domestic dispute. A scorned wife? Poor dear. He’s a pig and a lout. A scorned husband? I heard they were having trouble.

So a wife who publicizes her husband’s affair can expect more social benefit from it. She has not lowered her sexual market value by admitting to being the victim of infidelity because women’s SMV is almost entirely wrapped up in their looks. On the contrary, a man who publicizes his wife’s affair HAS lowered his sexual market value, because a man is judged on conditional status-based metrics, one of which is his ability to keep a woman happy and loyal. It’s preselection in reverse: the unfaithful wife has *deselected* the duped husband.

I predict, then, that you will see a lot more of these public shaming tactics from women against their cheating men then you will from men against their cheating women. And I base this on a simple grasp of evolutionary psychology fundamentals. (There’s a reason “Don’t Date Him Girl!” is a popular website without an equivalently popular “Don’t Date Her Man!” site.)

Interestingly, the wife also gets some benefit from outing the mistress. By naming her and describing her actions in lurid detail, she is tarred with the implied slut brush. Women will sneer at her wanton ways, and men will want to seek her out for sex (but not for commitment! Which would be a victory for the spurned wife.) It takes two to tango, and all that, and wives are not blind to the threat that younger, hotter, tighter competition poses to their marriages. The ass detail was simply embroidery to maximize the slut smear.

If I were friends with this wife, I would tell her that she might have avoided all these problems if she let her husband spelunk the stool cavern. Anal love is the balm that binds.

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Engagement Ring Quandary

A reader asks:

I know you don’t advocate marriage or spending money on an engagement ring.  However, if I decide to buy a ring, what is the better practice –  A) Buy the ring on my own, with no consulting the girl, her friends or her family.  B) Bring her along in advance to try on rings.  C) Ask her what she likes.  D) Ask her friends or family what she likes.
 
I’m thinking option A.  Asking for her input appears needy, and it could be a collossal shit test capitulation to dutifully produce a ring to her exact specifications.  Bringing her along seems even worse because it will put more expensive rings in her field of vision, and who knows what subtle emasculating digs the salesperson will get in.  Talking with her friends and family would almost surely get back to her, so in the end it may be just as bad as asking her directly.
 
There is some dignity in the attitude of “we’re getting engaged on my terms, I’m picking the ring, and she doesn’t need to tell me what she wants or know what I spend.”  It shows confidence, and if she likes the ring she will appreciate it more than if I just follow her instructions.  If she doesn’t like it she won’t tell me (at least as long as she stays attracted to me) and the mindset of her loins will still be better than if I had asked her what she wants.  Maybe she’ll bitch to her friends that she’s the one to wear the ring and she should have had input, but the effect on her hindbrain is what I care about.  Involving her makes me seem afraid that she won’t love me if I pick wrong.  Doing it on my own seems like the way of a confident man.  Am I correct in this thinking?

Answer: E. Don’t do it!

Ok, seriously, if you insist on going this route, the answer is…

E. Give her a (cost-free) heirloom ring.

Or if that isn’t an option…

Answer: A. Buy it on your own with no input from her or anyone else.

The reasons you gave are all valid. There is also something gauche and dispiriting about taking the recipient of your gift along for the gift-buying process. It is indeed emasculating… or, to pull a term from the feminist cuntionary, *objectifying*… to offer yourself up as a wide open wallet from which she may withdraw liberally to spend on herself. This is the foundation upon which you want to rest a modern, companionate marriage of love? Fuk dat noize.

No woman with any character at all is going to tell you the ring sucks (which, in womanese, translates as, “this ring is too small and inexpensive”). If she frowns and complains when you give her the ring…

RUN. And don’t look back.

You’ve just gotten all the evidence you need that she is not worth your monogamous commitment.

You shouldn’t be spending much on rings anyhow. After all, it is men, as the naturally promiscuous and freedom-loving sex, who give up more when they get married. By rights, the tradition should be that women propose to men with overpriced rocks as barter, as they are the ones winning out by getting betrothed.

You might also think about fooling her with a cubic zirconia. Why? One, CZ is hard to detect without equipment. The average normal chick won’t know the difference. Two, if she does go out of her way to disprove its authenticity, you will know it’s true love if she decides to stay with you.

The collapse of the diamond market can’t come soon enough. American men have had a bill of goods foisted on them by the diamond cartels and Cosmo.

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Women Are More Comfortable Sharing A Lover

A religious American woman engaged to a Frenchman writes about her experience with him when he broke off their engagement. An old high school flame had come back into his life and, as he explained to his American fiancée, he couldn’t decide if he loved the old flame.

(Don’t old flames just have a sixth sense for knowing when their window of opportunity is about to close? goddamned eerie.)

The author decides to “stay” with him; that is, she does not harangue him with an ultimatum or break up with him in a fury of righteous indignation. She instead offers to give him the space he needs to decide with whom his love is strongest and whether to come back to her at an unspecified future date should he want to do that. She calls this a relationship limbo born out of love for him. They continue emailing and calling over the next several months (the author is vague about any chance that they met for quasi-makeup sex during the limbo interim), and the story ends with no resolution. He still has not chosen between the two women, and the author still loves him. In her words:

If the man I love does come back, it will not be because I have threatened or manipulated him. His return will not be mere capitulation to the all-or-nothing terms I have set. It will come from a place of deep self-knowledge that he has found in his own time. And if I take him back, it will be because of similarly deep self-knowledge, made possible by this very difficult thing I have chosen to do: live with limbo, and take responsibility for my own happiness.

I admire this. She is wise enough to know that ultimatums are the worst possible foundation for a marriage. She also senses, although I doubt she could comprehend the true reasons why, that men are capable of loving more than one woman simultaneously. This is an emotional feat most women cannot grasp, because it is not in a woman’s nature to love more than one man at a time. It takes a selfless woman with a grounded ego and big heart to be able to temporarily silence the hamster and admit to herself that, although she could never do it, perhaps her man really does love two women at once.

Maxim #200: Men acquire lovers; women share lovers.

But she is unwise in one respect: he may return, but not in love. There is no guarantee that he doesn’t return to his American lover simply because his options dried up. Perhaps years later the old high school flame gains weight and our intrepid alpha male* Frenchman loses his love for her, which impels him to seek the comfort and sexual satisfaction of his former lover once again. In other words, she may serve as nothing more than his safety snatch. Yet, for many women, playing safety snatch to an alpha male is preferable to playing top choice to a beta male. So we come round again to my admiration for her purity: she loves an alpha male, and she will surrender her ego to be with him, no matter the cost. I don’t fault her at all for her decision.

*How do you know he is an alpha male?, some of you are probably asking. We know because he has two women in love with him, and at least one of them has agreed to become a de facto member of his nascent harem. Or: it’s self-evident, Sherlock.

The implications of her decision, amplified a million-fold across the corners of the globe, should give betas pause. Women have a natural instinct to sort into concubinage under a sole alpha male. Now, this does not mean women favor such an arrangement to the exclusion of all others; ideally, women would like an alpha male all to their own. But given a world full of competing choices, a woman’s evolutionarily guided hindbrain impulse pushes her, continually like the slow but forceful eddies in a tidal pool, into an arrangement where she feels more sexually fulfilled, as a woman, being the second or third or even thirtieth concurrent lover of a powerful man instead of the first and sole lover of a weak man.

Of course, most modern women do wind up settling for beta males (usually at the tail end of their prime attractiveness years), not least because social taboos and restrictions prevent the large-scale formation in the West of openly recognized harems (to date; see: gay marriage slippery slope). Many women, unbeknownst to their conscious minds, find a loophole to this societal shaming mechanism by doing what the Salon author did: they drop out of the dating market to wistfully pine for an unavailable alpha male while he enjoys the pussy fruit of multiple women. Women who aren’t into the whole wistful pining thing prefer the alternatives of riding the cock carousel or cheating on beta boyfriends while keeping it on the DL.

The Salon author, Sharon Hewitt, very much resembles the protagonist from Story of O. She gives everything, including pride, in the service of love for a high value man. And she would have it no other way, though her actions violate just about every sacrosanct feminist principle of what it supposedly means to be an “empowered” woman. O, like this author, has discovered that the ultimate assertion of female empowerment resides in surrendering completely, despite all odds stacked against her and peer pressure to do otherwise, to love. Love, even, and maybe especially, for a man who would tell her he loves another, or would, like René, offer her body to strangers for sexual plundering.

That, my friends, is the unearthly pull of the alpha male.

So, a toast to Miss Hewitt, for reminding betas how badly the cards are stacked against them. You remain true to a man who has abandoned his wedding promise to you to spend time with another women. More than true, you remain in love with him. In doing so, you have removed yourself from the dating market, and ensured that one man enjoys the pleasure of two women while another man goes without the pleasure of any woman.

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The Fundamentals

There is so much pickup information available now that it’s easy to lose sight of the fundamentals that govern sexual tension and attraction between men and women. When the information cascade overwhelms it begins to pull you away from what works, and what has always worked for you. Consequently, over-analysis can hinder your spiritual growth as a womanizer. That is why it is vital to step back every so often, ignore the steady stream of advice, and return to a few golden, immutable laws of attraction that will never go out of style.

The one fundamental to which I always return, and has never failed to reward me as expected, is this:

Women cannot resist the aloof and indifferent man.

Of all the compulsions hard-wired in a female’s hindbrain, this one is etched deeper and more enduringly. Every woman, to a greater or lesser degree, feels the burn of lust and the agony of love for a man who projects a “take it or leave it” attitude.

Note that aloof and indifferent doesn’t mean haughty, distant or uninterested. It means disinterested. It means that while you may love her and flatter her and soothe her and give her gifts, underlying it all is an attitude that tells her “I can walk if necessary, and find someone new.”

It may seem counterproductive for a woman to respond so favorably to a man exhibiting this attitude, but the evolution of human sociosexuality offers an explanation: an aloof man is indirectly advertising his skill at seducing women. Such a man will give a woman sons who will inherit his ladykiller genes. Conversely, a man who gloms onto a woman may as well be holding a placard that says “My celibacy is nigh!”. He has no confidence that should his girlfriend or wife misbehave, or leave him, he will be able to find another woman’s bossom for comfort.

And really, that’s what all this talk by women about valuing “confidence” in men means; what women are really saying is that they value men who could dump them on a whim and get with new women easily. Men who can do this are filled with the kind of confidence that turns women on.

The aloof and indifferent attitude can be expressed reactively or proactively, deliberately or passively. She senses it when other women flirt with you and you refuse to act ashamed for it. You don’t rub your desirability to competitor women in her face, but neither do you downplay it.

She senses it when she is the first to say “I love you”, after many months of eager — but ultimately unfulfilled — anticipation on her part for you to say it first.

She senses it when you occasionally pepper your relationship with unexplained absences.

She senses it when you hang out with guy friends who are known players.

She senses it when you drag your feet about going on expensive trips together.

She senses it when you are the first to hop out of bed after climax.

She senses it when your exes are always bumping into you.

She senses it when you announce that you don’t understand guys like her male friend who can only play video games when his girlfriend is not around to castigate him, and when you then proudly and defiantly proclaim you value your “freedom and independence” too much to be like that guy.

She senses it when a half-assed microwaved meal that you cooked for the both of you means more to her than a four course dinner slaved over for hours in the kitchen by a beta would mean to her.

She senses it when you set the bar so low, it becomes a challenge to disappoint her.

The fundamentals. Be aloof. Be indifferent. Be loving.

Do these three things and you will never be lacking for a woman’s eternally grateful love.

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Time To Fart As A Measure Of Relationship Strength

I’ve devised a formula for determining the strength of a relationship and its long term potential based on the time it takes for me to feel comfortable farting in a girlfriend’s presence.

TTF (Time To Fart) + SOE (Sense Of Embarrassment) / LOF (Loudness Of Fart) + NOF (Number Of Farts per episode) + FDS (Farts During Sex) = RS (Relationship Strength)

The variables in the formula are converted into numerical values.

TTF is the number of months that have passed without a farting incident in her company. 1 = one month, 2 = 2 months, etc. A particularly brazen man would have a TTF of 0.033, indicating he farted in front of her on the first date.

SOE is based on the embarrassment I feel for farting around her. An SOE of 0 is… zero shame! An SOE of 10 is crippling embarrassment, and a burning guilt for violating my precious lady’s modesty so vulgarly.

LOF is based on decibels. An LOF of 10 (admittedly a somewhat subjective measure) is an ear-splitting fart that scares the cat. An LOF of 0 is an SBD.

NOF is the number of farts I feel comfortable releasing immediately after the first one has escaped. An NOF of 3 farts within a short time window indicates comfort with the act of farting in my girl’s presence. A high NOF of 20 suggests a sadistic pleasure with watching my girlfriend’s eyes tear up.

FDS is a simple binary value for noting whether I am comfortable farting during sex, which is an inopportune (or not, you scoundrel!) time to fart that is particularly loathed by women. An FDS of 0 means I clench tightly when I feel a fart coming on, while an FDS of 1 means I help push it out when a fart is about to announce itself during tender missionary lovemaking. (It is especially funny when she can feel the vibrations of my fart against her pudendum.)

I didn’t include smell in the equation, because that’s an uncontrollable factor.

Once calculated, a high RS number means I hold in my farts when I’m with my girl to the point where I risk intestinal embolisms. I would not dare risk annoying her with an errant tush toot. Our relationship is likely a strong one that will last well into the second year.

A low RS number indicates trouble, as well as warm gas, brewing. I fart freely around the girl without remorse because I take her completely for granted. She loves the shit out of me and I know it, so I feel comfortable farting loudly, and often, in her presence, even when I’m piledriving her. An extremely low RS usually happens when I am dating below my level, and is an indication that I will cheat or dump her in short order.

Example 1:

• TTF = 1 month
• SOE = 0 (shameless)
• LOF = 5 (kazoo)
• NOF = 3 (tommy gun)
• FDS = 1 (pumping motion moves gas along)

1 + 0 / 5 + 3 + 1 = 1/9 = 0.11 RS

The man in this example has a very low RS. He is probably porking a cow and has her make him a ham sandwich on Valentine’s Day.

Example 2:

• TTF = 20 months (permanent damage resulted)
• SOE = 10 (tried to blame it on dog)
• LOF = 1 (clenched hard to prevent noisemaker, but mouse squeak escaped through restricted opening)
• NOF = 1 (but it was a 30 second doozy of sweet relief)
• FDS = 0 (violate such a sacred moment? never!)

20 + 10 / 1 + 1 + 0 = 15 RS

The man in this example has a very high RS. He is a beta provider who is with his first ever girlfriend (and sexual partner). He will ask “how many licks?” when she tells him to eat her out during her period. As long as she isn’t too far out of his league, he will likely marry this girl and die from a backed up fart that snaked its way to his brain.

On average, most of my relationships have an RS of between 0.8 and 1.2. If you regularly maintain RSs in the 0.01 to 0.15 range, you are either slumming it with heifers and calling yourself a player, or you are a super alpha who can get away with passing wind in your HB10 girlfriend’s face while she’s rimming you.

If you regularly score RSs in the 10 – 20 range, you are a platonic friend who has yet to realize it. You will not get anywhere with women until you first learn how to treat yourself to a satisfying blast of gas.

BONUS VIDEO!

This is a reenactment of an actual conversation. It happened in bed, but Xtranormal does not offer a bed scene as a backdrop.

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The Sensitive Girl

Something that men in their rush to conquer pussy tend to overlook, particularly those men new to the game, are that some girls can be destroyed by the coldblooded mechanization of the modern mating market. These are the sensitive girls who don’t know how to, or aren’t willing to, give as bad as they get. They genuinely hurt when their hearts get crushed, and have no way to defend themselves except by retreating to sulking in their bedrooms for months. They are easy prey for worldly seducers.

The sensitive girl (SG) is created as much as born. While most are born with a predilection to sentimentality, their exquisite victimization can be reinforced by their choices. An SG7 who shoots out of her league with a male 9 is asking for heartbreak. An SG slut (they do exist; you’ve never seen such a bag of neuroses!) has herself to blame for always falling short of experiencing the loving commitment she secretly craves from a man. An SG who has had the misfortune to fall in love with a sociopath will know the pain of having her buttons pressed and her strings pulled only to learn in the end that her romance was an illusion.

There are also the faux SGs — the ones who pretend to sentimentality but are really just drama whores forever searching for their next hit of accelerated relationship fanfare. They are contrivances who should be handled with a healthy dose of cynicism. Faux SGs make perfect backup lovers, as your continual unexplained absences where you spend time devoted to your primary relationship fuel their drama fix. It’s easy to identify a faux SG — just look for the girl who can’t stop flapping her gums about “how hard it is to date men in this city” while she’s showing some random guy her new hip tattoo.

The authentic “tears on pillow” SG is usually:

– a 5, 6 or 7. Uglier girls have been resigned to their depressing fate since childhood, and don’t expect much from men. They grow up to become hard-headed pragmatists, and make good disciplinarians for the omega roustabouts in their lives. 8s and above are too hot to be sentimental saps for long; most find that capitalizing on their brief window of power is far more fun than wallowing in self pity.

– stricken with a small physical flaw to which she is prone to blaming her unluckiness in love.

– a formerly hot cougar. Now we know the appeal of cats. What creature is more willing to sit still as a despondent aging cougar at the nexus of nostalgia for her lost beauty and sentimentality for the romantic gestures from men she can no longer attract regales it with tales of lovelorn woe?

– a young, naive girl. Break her heart and surely there will be a concierge waiting for you at the garnet gates of hell.

– a broken bitch. Not every girl who rides the cock carousel long and hard erects around herself a bodice of tankgrrl armor. A few self-confident sirens exit the ride puking their guts out, their souls shattered, whimpering for release in the arms of a niceguy. See: … well, you can figure out who.

Of all the taxonomy of women, the sensitive girl stands alone as the most capable of inducing pangs of guilt in a player. A true SG, her heart freely given with no strings attached, is so easy to destroy that you may hesitate before dragging her too deeply into your rakematrix. The SG has a habit of falling in love, and of glorifying your every word and action. Breakups often hit her completely unawares. She will mewl for reassurances from you that you won’t leave her. She cries just imagining a breakup, and will tremble with anxiety if you so much as hint at dissatisfaction with the relationship.

Tragically for inveterate romanticists, the SG is a species on the verge of extinction. You will find her skipping in Polish meadows or careening through Iowan cornfields, oblivious to the changes around her. Daisies poking up from a steaming worldwide shitvista.

The SG suffers unbeknownst in our post-monogamy, quasi-polygyny world. She is the victim of her bloodless sisters who turn men to the art of the game and the darker nature of women. These men, their egos and their courtship dance sharpened to a serrated edge, will unintentionally hurt the SG should they stumble into her tiny snowglobe world, mistakenly thinking she is like the others. Collateral damage, they will say. But a few players who retain a semblance of empathy will feel horrible for ushering another childlike heart into the realm of Phthonus.

A reader emails:

Hopefully a quick question – The GF is about to say “I love you”, but I don’t know how to respond? Any recommended advice here, or anything that’s worked well before? I don’t exactly love her either, but I’m a sucker for tears if I ever saw them.

A woman’s tears can immobilize a man. This blog teaches men to train themselves to remain stoic in an onslaught of waterworks, because many women are skilled in the art of manipulation through summoned tears. But sometimes a tear is just a tear, a Lite-Brite view of genuine inner turmoil.

If, as suspected, this man’s GF is an SG (SGs are the type of girl who will say “I love you” first, and will be the most hurt if the response isn’t in kind), then care must be taken with the handling of her heart. In event of unreciprocated love, her tears will be real. The reader was redirected to this post for possible replies to an “I love you” from a woman one doesn’t love in return. Further suggestions were offered, with the caveat that, no matter how expedient, it is in the player’s interest to avoid saying “I love you, too” if the feeling isn’t mutual. One, it’s hard to say with a straight face if it isn’t sincerely felt. Two, saying “I love you” to a girl you don’t love will cheapen the words when you want to say them to a girl you truly do love. You’ll come to doubt whether any of your future feelings of love are real.

It’s especially dangerous territory to lie about love with an SG. Lie all you want to a lawyercunt or a slut or a golddigger or a single mom or a thrice divorcée, because being the instrument of karmic comeuppance is your male prerogative. But lie to the SG, and her hopes, having been lifted to exalted heights, will inevitably come crashing down so hard her sorrow will weigh on you like a phantom inquisitor for years afterward. Have you ever walked out for the final time from a dimly-lit bedroom to the receding sound of your lover’s sobs trailing you from the shrinking corner of her bed? I can assure you, it’s not easy to brush off. The memory will singe. Heel thyself, cad.

Needless to say, this guilt is bad for maintaining the right frame for pickup. The best way to deal with ILY from an SG you don’t love is to be playful and evasive. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” Or “Right back atcha.” Plausible deniability — in the form of “I didn’t say or insinuate that I didn’t love you” — is key here. Most SGs hear what they want to hear, so this tactic will work.

To the callous bastards who read here: despoil your SGs, ruin them for the supplicative betas who would be good fits for the SGs, corrupt them to the power of the jaded side, but don’t tell them you love them if you don’t. There is a personal code of honor even the cruelest player abides. Violate at your own risk.

Of course, there’s always the option of falling in love with an SG. It’s not like it’s hard to do.

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