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.

Read Full Post »

Compare And Contrast: Two Bitter Ex-Lovers

A jilted ex-boyfriend went on a scorned nerd rampage on live TV while his ex-girlfriend sat next to him.

As a YouTube commenter astutely noted:

That is the nerdiest smackdown ever. If this wasn’t C-span I could swear it was Comic Con. Probably the most eloquent way of saying “That bitch is a ho”. Although, I wouldn’t mind tapping her Yale degree because she is probably a superfreak closeted S&M mistress and that’s my kind of political maneuvering.

I’m telling ya, YouTube commenters are the new American comedy art form. More:

typical fat guy’s laugh in the background.

Funny, fat guys DO have a distinctive laugh!

What was your reaction when you watched the video? If you’re like me and most people, you felt a mix of contempt, cringing revulsion and pity. You probably thought “wow, what a loser.” You vowed never to let a chick get under your skin that badly. A fleeting moment of sympathy made you wish this spazzy nerd would learn some game and start dating girls who didn’t look like Philip Seymour Hoffman.

There’s no doubt this dude is a lesser beta, perhaps even a greater omega. And this judgment is not solely a reflection of his unfortunate looks; his attitude, mannerisms, and, of course, total lack of amused mastery peg him as the needy, desperate, no-game-having betaboy he is deep in his soul. He has failed spectacularly the live TV version of the Jumbotron test (the worst way to fail). If he fumbles with nerdo Randian women, it is because of these latter characteristics, and not because of his looks.

His exceptional intelligence cannot compensate for all his negative traits. If anything, his smarts may be working against him. It’s easy to imagine his big brain spending week after week excessively analyzing his breakup and thinking up ways to rectify his pain. In a moment of pique — her body which he once penetrated (assuming he did) now mere inches from him on a televised panel — his unruly emotions took control of his mind and steered all that IQ in an embarrassingly unproductive direction.

This is what happens when you don’t have a clue how women operate. He exhibited the opposite of amused mastery — distressed incompetence. Vaginas all over the land snapped shut on cue.

Now I want you to read the following story. See if you have the same reaction to the bitter spurned ex-lover in this news story that you did for the woeful man in the video above.

Now that her label is finally starting to play the album for select critics, it’s easy to fathom why its contents have been closely guarded, all fears of leakage aside. Some of the lyrics are startlingly candid, even by the standards of Taylor “Naming Names, Taking No Prisoners” Swift.

And listening to “Dear John,” the scorching song that is-from all appearances-aimed at Mayer, all we can say is: Joe Jonas, you got off easy. […]

And it might seem sensationalistic to focus on “Dear John” at the expense of the rest of the album if it didn’t feel like it might be her masterpiece to date, or at least the most bracingly, joltingly honest song you’ve heard any major performer have the nerve to put on record in years. Maybe not since John Lennon took on estranged partner Paul McCartney in “How Do You Sleep” has a major pop singer-songwriter so publicly and unguardedly taken on another in song. But while Lennon’s song came off as mean-spirited, Swift was motivated by vulnerability and woundedness, which makes her song far braver… and more cutting. […]

There may be those who’ll accuse Swift of exploiting her own romantic travails in this and other songs. But the extended bridge section of “Dear John” (and, at six and a half minutes, the entire song is fairly extended) packs such a cathartic punch, it really does transcend any tabloid associations. When Swift sings “I’m shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town,” anyone who ever felt manipulated or used and found the strength to move on may be cheering like it’s the 4^th of July.

Taylor Swift is doing no different than Todd Seavey did to his ex-girlfriend on that C-Span panel: she is lashing out bitterly at an ex-lover who she feels wronged her. Substantively, her actions are the female version of Todd Seavey; the only distinction is the style in which each exposes their hurt and feeble stabs at revenge. (I say feeble, because I doubt very much John Mayer is going to lose sleep at being called out as a callous womanizer. The horde of groupies queueing up to sample his callous cock after hearing how he treated Taylor Swift is surely growing by the mile.) In fact, it could be said that Seavey is more admirable than Swift, for he at least lashed out at his ex while she was there to defend herself.

Here is an excerpt of Swift’s revenge lyrics:

Dear John/I see it all now that you’re gone/Don’t you think I was too young/To be messed with/The girl in the dress/Cried the whole way home/I should’ve known. […] It was wrong/Don’t you think nineteen’s too young/To be played/By your dark, twisted games/When I loved you so. […] You’ll add my name to your long list of traitors who don’t understand/And I’ll look back in regret I ignored what they said/’Run as fast as you can’

Notice how all the blame is shifted to Mayer. Swift removes any responsibility and accountability for her decision to fuck the alpha male. She is a mere womanchild, a vassal into which evil men have their way with her. (If true, can we revoke the right to vote from these womenchildren?) Todd Seavey’s bitterness flows from the same place — an inability to recognize that he bears responsibility for the impression he leaves with women.

Todd Seavey and Taylor Swift’s behavior toward exes IS ONE AND THE SAME. Their bitterness is a shared bond that crosses class, looks and celebrity.

And yet, what did you feel reading about Taylor Swift’s lash-out at John Mayer? The same contempt, revulsion and cold pity you felt for Todd Seavey? Likely not, if you’re honest with yourself. Certainly the women reading these two stories did not feel the same toward each antagonist protagonist. I bet the same women (and some manginas) who subconsciously lambasted Seavey for his bitterness were quick to offer sympathy and understanding to Taylor Swift. Just look at the way the story is told by the reporter, Chris Willman (presumably a man): “vulnerability and woundedness”, “startlingly candid”, “such a cathartic punch”. This is the reaction of someone who wants to offer Taylor Swift a shoulder to cry on. Todd Seavey will see no such shoulders offered; he will instead be cast to the icy wastelands where the tribe will mercilessly mock him from afar.

Your conflicting emotional responses to Seavey and Swift are no fluke. They are evolutionarily imprinted in your brain. All flows from the basic premise that eggs are expensive and sperm is cheap. From this premise, we subconsciously affirm that men are expendable, and women irreplaceable. One man can impregnate an entire tribe and keep the population growing. One woman is a population bottleneck that will mean the extinction of the tribe. And further on from that premise, we find ourselves offering comfort and uuuuunderstaaaaanding to Taylor Swift, while we offer nothing but sharp barbs and ridicule to the expendable Todd Seavey.

This is our reality, our world, our universe. Some human beings are worth more than others, and despite our grandiloquent litanies to the contrary, our actions tell us all we need to know, if we are willing to look with open eyes. Remember that the next time a palace guard of the old order tries to tell you what’s in your best interest.

Read Full Post »

The Two Exceptions To Game

If I had to distill the essence of all the hate and doubt that is a regular feature of the comments on this blog, it would read like this:

“Game doesn’t work, and if it did you’re a loser for having to learn it to pick up girls because alpha males (who, by the way don’t exist except in your imagination) don’t make any effort to attract women, and anyhow the only girls that would fall for it are low self esteem bar skanks who wouldn’t give you the time of day because you’re a phony they will see right through. Try being yourself if you want a real woman to like you, except that will never happen because you are a celibate beta loser.”

It is, of course, self-contradictory nonsense. The average hater cannot string three sentences together without refuting what she (and they are usually shes) said in the first sentence. Their logic is so muddled that toying with them until I drive them insane with spittle-flecked rage has become something of a fun hobby for me.

But because I am a decent and kind person of magnanimous temperament, I will throw the haters a bone in this post. There are, indeed, two specific situations where you, as a regular, fat part of the bell curve man, do not need game to make a girl swoon. I will tell you what they are, but first, a little context is necessary.

Why do the haters offer up so many trite and transparently false objections to game to begin with? Are they trying to confuse us, or themselves? Have they been burned in the past by men doing to them exactly what I write about here, and thus project their angry bitterness on the symbolic manifestation of their real life pain, namely me?

Or do they really believe the idiocy they preach? Are they… TRUE BELIEVERS in the conventional wisdom school of JBY (just be yourself)? Is it possible, in other words, that in their own lives they met and fell in love with men who won them over running NO GAME AT ALL, natural or otherwise?

So… what motivates the haters? Answer: all of the above.

I suspect a few haters really do live in a lala land relatively free of the sort of easily observable human mating machinations that confound 99.9% of the rest of humanity, and thus can’t comprehend the reality of male-female psychological differences or the influence that game exerts over female attraction and courtship. They live in a platitude bubble; but like all bubbles, it will eventually burst.

Which brings us to the two exceptions to game.

• The girl you are dating is head over heels in love with you.

When a girl loves you so deeply that she wants to see you every day, and gets nervous when your text replies are delayed five seconds too long, you are in the DO-NO-WRONG ZONE, my friend. The DNW zone is a magic land where you can fart and belch and scratch yourself in the genital region and show up late (or early) for everything and buy shit for her all the time and cuddle for hours after sex and let her plan every date and dress in gym shorts and pit-stained t-shirts all the time and “yes, dear” her to death and constantly praise her beauty and whine like a beta bitch when you get a mosquito bite AND SHE WON’T LOSE AN IOTA OF ATTRACTION FOR YOU. She will happily take your deflated castrati ballsack slaps to the face and beg for more. You are a TEFLON LOVE GOD; no bad behavior sticks to you. You can be quite literally a NO GAME HAVING CHUMP and she will still think about fucking you every minute of the day.

Sounds like paradise, right? There’s a catch — this magic window only lasts about three months, after which if you do not shed your pathetic beta habits and step up your game, you WILL find her slowly and inexorably withdrawing her love and sex from you until one day you are wondering when such a good thing went so wrong.

So, you will need game before and after the 3-month DNW zone, but not during, if she is truly madly in love with you. Love… fuck yeah!

• The girl you are dating is two or more points below you in sexual market value.

This is cut and dried. Want to “be yourself” with a girl? Date a warpig! She will put up with EVERYTHING and ANYTHING and never bitch once. You will need to put in ZERO effort to keep such a woman satisfied. No game, no nothing. I know men who slum it for this very reason, and while I personally find that lifestyle incomprehensible and utterly distasteful — I mean, you may as well become a monk since you’ll be living a life completely devoid of any beauty or hedonistic pleasure — it does lend itself to a certain simplicity in managing affairs and obtaining the necessary freedom to pursue alternative pleasures. MMO playing sperg tards take note.

The downside with this scenario is that you have to date at least two points lower than your market value equivalent if you want a game-free dating experience that makes few demands on your time or energy. So for instance, if you are an 8, you need to date down to at least a 6 to enjoy the fruits of a drama-free relationship. If you really don’t like women acting out like women, and you want to be able to wallow in your clingy betaness without learning a lick of game, you will probably need to date lower than two points down.

The exact mechanism of the chick market value-game requirement nexus deserves further explication in a handy chart.

She is…                                          % game required to keep her interested

>=1 point higher than you             100%

At your level                                    90%

1 point lower                                   60%

2 points lower                                 10%

>=3 points lower                          -% (reverse game)

Interesting phenomena appear when you dumpster dive so low that you enter reverse game territory. For example, if you are a 7 male and you date a 4, not only will you need NO game to keep her attracted for a long while, but running any sort of game can actually push her away from you. The 4 will feel she doesn’t deserve you and will be on pins and needles with you all the time, regardless of how you treat her. Running game will then send her into a vicious downward spiral of self-doubt and neediness so crippling that she will preemptively dump you to prevent a night alone overdosing on pills and cutting your name into her forearm. To keep the 4 in line, paradoxically, requires almost as much effort as keeping a hot girl into you — except instead of game you have to run the opposite of game on the 4. You have to beta yourself to the max; cards, gifts, compliments, slow and attentive lovemaking, hours of cunnilingus, super snuggles, etc. So there are diminishing returns to the strategy of dating down to avoid putting any effort into relationships. Not to mention diminishing boner hardness.

The ultimate score for the no-game, no-life having beta chump who hates the idea of working to change himself to get better quality women is the very low value woman who falls in love with him. Imagine a nasty, fat cape buffalo — one of Obsidian’s exes, for instance — who cries a little when she thinks of you. Or a single mom on the cusp of sexual irrelevance who forgets to pick up her kid from his ghetto school because she’s doing her nails and febrezing her pussy in anticipation of you coming over that night for dinner. When you’ve got shitty goods falling in love with you, dating becomes one giant lounge chair in which to lazily recline and be fed moldy grapes all day long. Yeah, you can barely get it up with women like that, but at least you can rip a wet fart in their faces, pull WoW all-nighters, and forget their birthdays and never pay a price for it — and tell everyone within earshot that getting “hot chicks” was really easy for you, so those other guys learning game to find good women must be losers.

With obesity and single motherhood rampant, more American men than ever are availing themselves — intentionally or not — of the dating down option. So while game may be more necessary than ever to land that genuinely hot babe, for increasing numbers of men game and the knowledge contained therein are simply not on their radar. Which may explain why we are currently witnessing such a growing effete chorus of manginas, pedestalizing evangelicals, and limp-wristed SWPLs parroting the feminist and Iron John shibboleths. They aren’t trying to convince us so much as they are trying to convince themselves of the awesomeness of their fatass and bastard spawn-towing lovers.

Some of the few true believer haters living in lala land that I wrote of above likely fall into the category of people dating easy-to-please losers that they have tricked themselves into rationalizing as good mate choices. (Some of the haters are truly in the midst of love and can’t think straight without a gauzy filter Disney-fying their saccharine musings.) Perhaps for them, their beta soulmates appeared — warts and all — and they settled, wondering disingenuously and retroactively why people make such a big deal of finding someone. So when you hear their lame jeremiads against game, translate that as an admission that they are either a) naturals who aren’t smart enough to reflect on what they are doing right, or b) bitter bitches and betaboys trained in the art of justifying their crappy love lives.

Men without fame or vast wealth who want to date and fuck hot women need to know game. It’s as simple as that. There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Men who don’t care about porking the flabby wet hole of some she-beast will never understand the need for — or the truth of — game, for to understand it is to understand the miserable depths of their own lives, and that is a dark road most are not willing to travel. The low value women who love these men will likewise never understand game, and will lash out at those who do. Ironically, their garbage lives insulate them from the redemption that exists just beyond their pitiable horizons.

Read Full Post »

Relationship Game Thoughts

If your girlfriend is complaining about your selfishness, you’re doing it right.

Your gift to her is that you don’t go around sleeping with other women.

Meaningless acts of romance are far more meaningful to girls than meaningful acts of romance.

Similarly, spontaneous expressions of romance will linger in a girl’s memory far longer than elaborately planned romantic gestures.

‘Romantic gestures’ is redundant. *Any* gesture done for a girl who already likes you is romantic.

Role-playing is worth ten diamond tennis bracelets in a girl’s captured imagination.

A girl’s urge to pressure you to marry is inversely correlated to her depth of love for you.

Corollary: a marriage ultimatum means she is on the cusp of falling out of love with you.

Love is as corrupted as any other barter in the mating market, but its great advantage is that it never feels that way.

Marriage counselors could save more marriages simply by uttering these two words: tease her.

The alpha male way to apologize for a minor offense is a shoulder rub. The alpha male way to apologize for a grave offense is cunnilingus.

All regrets and apologies should be expressed long enough after the offense was committed that a direct connection between offense and contrition is plausibly deniable. This is known as the Betafication Avoidance Buffer.

A strong relationship is defined as one in which your girlfriend’s friends all want to sleep with you.

Once a girl falls in love with you, she will stop taking the counsel of her friends’ opinions regarding your compatibility with her.

Corollary: You are then free to piss off her friends as much as you want.

Love is margin for error.

Love like an idealist, think like a cynic.

Relationships are more erector set than blank white canvas.

But when the time comes to paint, paint with the entire palette.

If she wants to see you one more day per week than you want to see her, you’re doing it right.

Texting is a great way to get out of hour-long nightly phone conversations, while at the same time keeping the embers of infatuation burning.

If she plans three dates for every two of yours, you’re doing it right.

A girl in love is one who withers as much from withheld compliments as from supplied criticism.

Give her an email address that you rarely access. There are many ways to stoke the female yearning for an elusive man.

Her infidelity is an automatic relationship or marriage terminator, except under one circumstance: she was cheating with your other girlfriend.

If she sneaks away to reapply her lipstick after every make-out, she is afraid she’ll stop pleasing you. Or she’s a street walker.

A bay window, a cool summer’s night breeze, and ambient light backgrounding fettuccine alfredo and pinot noir is the female equivalent of receiving the perfect hummer.

The neg never dies. It just fades away.

If she assumes the doggie position unprompted, you’re doing it right.

If she gives you mouth love without you having to ask for it, you’re doing it more right than you can fathom.

“You make me feel happy” is the pre-cum of a girl’s oxytocin-greased mental ejaculation. Her orgasmic “I love you” is less than one month away.

A good relationship is one in which you joke that you are her king, and there is an undercurrent of wishful seriousness in her playful response.

If you tell her you feel a little under the weather, and she comes over to your place with OJ, herbal tea, soup, and cough medicine, you’re doing it right.

Don’t rush the naturally emerging stages of the relationship. Men who rush things are insecure about their staying power. Men who have options are comfortable taking their time getting entangled with a girl. Most hot young girls prefer the latter; cougars, fatties, and single moms prefer the former.

If you are significantly higher value than the girl you are dating, don’t underestimate the degree to which she can become obsessed with you. An available alpha male giving signals of commitment is like finding a giant diamond lying on the ground in a state park; it just doesn’t happen for most girls.

When she starts inviting you on her vacations and business trips, she loves being with you. When she pays your way, she hates being without you.

Better she is an infatuated lover than a loving dilettante.

If you haven’t had an argument within the first two months, you’ve passed an important test. If you haven’t had an argument within the first year, you’ve failed an important test.

Girls take seriously their pets’ opinions of you. One purring cat can shave off seven hours of courtship.

Beware girls who always want to go to “events” or “do interesting things” with you. They fear the connection will break without the scaffolding of a contrived shared experience. If she’s happy sitting on a park bench with you people watching she’s a keeper.

Joyfully fornicate with girls who are always drunk when they’re with you. But don’t date them.

If a girl loves you, all problematic matters that would have presented an obstacle to the initial seduction become irrelevant or are actually turned in your favor.

After one month together, you will be astonished at how often and how vigorously a girl in love will qualify herself to you without you even trying to instigate it. Don’t interrupt her when she’s doing this.

It is a girl’s natural state of mind to question your worth when she is not in love. In contrast, it is her natural state of mind to question her own worth when she is in love.

When a girl is down on herself, do not try to lift her up. It is enough that you are there listening to her.

Saying less is always preferable to saying more. She will be inclined to imbue your silence with positive connotations, and your loquacity with suspicion.

Girls will sometimes preemptively break up with you if they suspect you are too much alpha for them. In these cases, the impending breakup is best averted by nuzzling your head in her boobage for ten minutes. Your body language should mimic a cat’s.

Occasional displays of testosterone (ODTs) are more effective, require less effort, and are more fun than “talking it out” when the relationship is rocky. Curse profligately, punch a wall, slam a door, grab a wrist, break a lamp, menacingly wield a heavy object, and disappear for days at a time — then sit back as she swoons and resubmits to your authority.

Preternaturally serene mindfucking is the ultimate ODT, but should not be attempted by men low in intelligence or feeble of will. Do not mindfuck girls who are less than an 8; you could destroy them for any future beta desperate to settle down with a has-been and populate the country with future generations of danegeld-paying cogs.

You know that song “Love is Like Oxygen”? There’s no such thing as too high.

You could spend $100,000 on a lavish wedding, but the thing she’ll most fondly remember is that erotic note you hastily scrawled on a cocktail napkin and passed to her under the table. Think about it.

Read Full Post »

Virginity Is More Important To Men Than Women Would Admit

Robin Hanson has a post comparing the female preference for high status men with the male preference for virginal women. Without getting into the particulars of the comparison (a valid, if imperfect one), the larger point here is that virginity in and of itself continues influencing men’s mate choice decisions and judgments of the women they date. Even American legend Ben Franklin knew virgins were worth more than debauched women. Fuck that, women *themselves* know that virgins are higher value than sluts.

Why should the meaty intrusions of past lovers be of concern to men deciding which women to pump and dump and which women to date with more rigorous romantic investment? To find the answer to that, we must put a magnifying glass to the hindbrain. Throughout most of human existence, a woman with a sordid history of lovers presented multiple risks for the man intending to devote his resources to her and the raising of any children they would have. (“Would” being the operative word, since sex for most of our contraceptively poor ancestors usually led to children irrespective of our wishes.) The risks of committing to a non-virgin woman would be:

1. She might be carrying the unborn spawn of a recently discarded lover. (In ancient times, when the female fertile window was shorter, younger, and rarely unplundered while the plundering was good, this would be a big concern in a way it is not so much today, thanks to condoms and the pill severing the connection between sex and insta-pregnancy.)
2. She would be more likely to cheat. A slut presents a higher risk to a man of future cheating. And female cheating = threat of cuckoldry, which means it is much worse than male cheating. Chicks with high testosterone, as evidenced by a suite of mannish features, are good candidates for sluttiness and are least likely to have retained their virginity much past the age of thirteen.
3. She won’t bond as strongly from the sex act. A woman who has been around the block will find nothing spectacular about the next in line cock. (Slam poetry!) Virgins will bond like Krazy Glue to the first man who deflowers them. The love will be so strong that she will look up to him as a king, and Eat, Pray, Love boredom killing journeys of tingle-actualization will never even enter her consciousness.

And so men, for very ancient biological reasons, prefer to marry, (or in the parlance of modern thought, have a long term relationship with), virgins. This is as unalterable as the female preference for high status men.

Of course, nothing good is without its costs. Female virgins, for one, are hard to find in modern society, and are usually only available to the highest status men or to alpha teenage boys who got in on the ground floor. Very religious communities have more of them than the secular axis of ardor, but few secular men are willing to sacrifice the good times of nonmarital sex for the strictures of religion and better odds at bagging a virgin. So they suck it up and tell slutty SWPL fembots what they want to hear:

“No really, baby, I don’t care how many cocks you’ve hoovered up your hooch. I’m enlightened that way!”

…all the while drag drag dragging their feet on the marriage proposal.

Second, female virgins present a risk of sexual aloofness. Is she a virgin because she’s nobly chaste, or is she a virgin because she never felt much compulsion to have sex? As bad as marrying a high risk slut is, marrying a sexually repressed low libido woman is worse. (Although there is evidence that low libido women are really just sexually dissatisfied women who have yet to enjoy the wonders of sexual awakening with an alpha male.) Marriage isn’t much of a happy deal for men if the sex is a twice a year event. This wouldn’t be a concern if marriage adhered to the traditional notion of indentured servitude exchanged for sexual access, and men could tap that ass whenever the mood hit them, but in today’s radically feminized society, a man must have consent even with his wife, who simply cannot conceive of laying there and taking one for the team (or, heaven forfend, out of deep love for her husband’s well-being).

Third, many men fear the inexperience that female virgins are apt to bring to the bedroom. This is a minor concern, as a woman’s sexual inexperience is quickly and easily overcome as long as she has a normal sex drive. Sex isn’t friggin rocket science. A few weeks of hot nonstop sex with a virgin and she’ll have a repertoire of positions that would make Andrew Sullivan’s beagle blush.

The biggest cost to pursuing virgins is the reason why it sometimes benefits to pursue sluts:

They don’t put out.

Virgins have value as wives and girlfriends, but sluts have value as easy lays. Don’t underestimate the power of the easy lay to cloud a man’s future oriented judgment.

Read Full Post »

Relationship Limbo

Relationships generally follow the same trajectory, despite men and women having contradictory mating goals. The optimal trajectory for each sex differs as such:

For men:

– Meet
– If alpha, seduce. If beta, butter up.
– Sex
– If nothing in common, date for a few weeks
– If something in common, date for a few months
– If falling in love, date for a year
– If willfully ignorant, marry
– Divorce
– Start over, poorer but happily still in demand

For women:

– Be introduced through social circle
– If man alpha, relinquish. If man beta, puppeteer.
– If nothing in common, one date and done
– If something in common, date for a few weeks
– Sex
– If falling in love, dream of marriage
– If smart, marry
– Divorce
– Start over, richer but regrettably older

For every long term relationship, sometime between the six month to one year mark, the woman will angle to get you to marry her. Dumb women will attempt to accomplish this through the injudicious use of ultimatums. Devious women will apply the more sophisticated tools of a covert operation. But nearly all women will want marriage sooner rather than later, and their men will be left wondering why, if the relationship is going so well, such a superfluous notarization as marriage is necessary. Usually, the women win out, because most men are weak when confronting possible loss of reliable pussy access.

If you are a man who can face the marital abyss and not flinch, then at the one year mark you may be put into relationship limbo. This is what it implies — a relationship in a holding pattern with a woman who is slowly withdrawing her affection. She will go to bed without sexytime, make breakfast for herself instead of the both of you like she used to, start complaining that you hog the bed, happily recite a list of her friends who are getting hitched, ceaselessly mutter about your “incompatibility”, bitch that you don’t take the “initiative” (read: “propose”), and generally become a sourpuss around you. This is because women get very, VERY, pissed and bewildered when their prime directive (to get married) is thwarted.

Now, there is a catch. The problem for men is determining whether relegation to relationship limbo is the result of the girlfriend’s infidelity or her marriage denial blues. Unfortunately, the symptoms of either are remarkably similar. A woman who is cheating on you will withdraw sexually, stop being considerate, and bitch you out a lot. A woman who is worried and anxious that you have no intention of marrying her will lash out likewise. Your job, as a man, is to figure out which succubus has possessed her, for the solution to handling either demoness is quite different. A cheating woman will need more alpha from you. A despondent woman will need more signs of commitment from you.

Deciding which dark path she is on is no easy task. Women are evolutionarily optimized to be fantastic, nearly undetectable, liars of things both great and small. And what is the greatest lie of all than the lie to hide the pedigree of a man’s child from him so that he may raise it as his own? Women who were bad at lying about cuckoldry were quickly weeded from the population, either by violence, avoidance, or expulsion. And so Darwinian selection ensured that those women who successfully duped beta mates into raising alpha progeny would need be liars of an exemplary sort.

Thankfully, Darwinian selection also ensured that a humanitarian saint like me would come along one day to give you the tools to help you discover if your woman is a sneak cheat. Namely, if she’s branded with identifiable markings of sluttitude, she is more likely to be a future faithless whore.

If you have convinced yourself beyond a reasonable doubt that your girlfriend is not cheating on you, then you are left with finding a way out of relationship limbo. You could take the path of least resistance and propose marriage. But that is lopping off one’s left nut to spite one’s cock. For a woman who has proven capable of withdrawing affection from her man is a woman who can — and will — do it again, to get what she wants, wedding band or no.

Relationship limbo is a dangerous place to be for men. It can drive the male mind crazy with thoughts of abandonment, or worse. His mind swirls with the concoction of nightmares, and his confidence betrays him at the moment he needs it most. In order to defeat it, you must know yourself first. Do you eventually want to marry? Then decide if she is the one for you, and take the leap into or out of her arms. The purpose of limbo is to incite resentment in you, thus making it a simpler endeavor for the woman to conclude that you are worth leaving. If she is not the one you want to marry, prolonging your time in limbo will only feed your resentment, no matter how mastered your art of aloofness, until it boils over into a dramatic breakup.

If, like me, you fully grasp that marriage serves none of your interests, but you like the girl you are dating and want out of limbo, you have two choices. Either stoically accept that every relationship has an inborn lifecycle, and that marriage is simply a delay tactic to push the lifecycle beyond its natural limits, and allow her to leave to find the man who would give her what she wants. She has already poisoned the well, so what further benefit from the relationship can you realistically extract? Limbo more often than not delivers you to hell than to paradise.

Or, have her fall so deeply in love with you that she betrays her own female edict. A woman truly in love won’t be able to contemplate leaving you without pain shooting through her sternum. She may be sad at times that you haven’t proposed, but her sadness is short-lived as it surrenders continually to her joy.

A woman who has put you in limbo does not love you with abandon. She instead loves you like most women do; with an eye toward the pragmatic. She is attempting to manipulate you, consciously or not, to reach her own ends. A man has two noble goals in life — the pursuit of sexual pleasure, and the winning of a woman’s heart in toto. A man has not lived until a woman has loved him without proviso.

Read Full Post »

Game Is Pushing Me Away From Love

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Of the last 25 out of 30 girls I’ve slept with, I’ve used the following game tactics on all of them in almost the same order and at the same point in time of the pickup:

• indirect opener, usually situational
• if cockblock was present, one neg to cb asking if her friend is “always this way”
• if cockblock wasn’t present, one neg directly to target about her “hair color being totally in style right now”
• initiated kino sequence by laying my hand on her forearm, then later hand on her shoulder, then later still hand on her thigh
• one dance twirl (her, not me)
• one anchor (“hey could you watch my hat/scarf/pickup prop for me for a sec?”)
• one DHV story about my time hiking a volcanic island
• one to two venue change “bounces”, where i would simulate the experience of being on multiple dates by compressing it into two hours, making her feel she had spent more time with me than she actually did
• two questions qualifying her, usually “cute chicks are a dime a dozen, what else do you have going for you?” or “are you low, medium or high maintenance?”
• two rapport building routines (either the love test or the cube)
• one age guessing game (her: how old are you?” me: “guess” her: [whatever answer] me: “perfect!” or “i don’t think you’re fun enough/mature enough for me”)
• one vulnerability story (involves getting beat up by a bully i was trying to stop from beating up a nerdy schoolmate)
• one major kino escalation (usually hand behind her neck)
• kiss (i just go for it. no prepping) and/or number close
• same night lay if propitious

25 girls. 25 lays, flings, or relationships. All of them gamed in almost the exact same manner to achieve the desired result. Like winding up a watch. Or tapping a knee to prompt a reflex kick. Or shaking a leash by the door so the dog comes running, knowing a walk and a refreshing poop is on the way.

Game enough girls successfully and the predictability becomes numbing. I imagine this is how girls must secretly feel when they slather on makeup and squeeze into sexy clothes and then get the predictable horndog responses from men around them. They enjoy the attention, but at the same time their joy is laced with resentment toward men. They resent that it’s all so deterministic. Women are particularly susceptible to this resentment of the opposite sex because they are more emotionally invested in the pretty lie that romance and love must “happen naturally”. Men, having in general less experience with inciting predictable responses in the opposite sex, don’t get so weepy-eyed for the loss of innocence when they learn a thing or two about how the opposite sex’s sexual attraction mechanism works.

Which is how I felt for a long time. Game used to be a blessing. But then, you get so proficient that the patterns become all that you see. Like the green cascading numbers in the Matrix, individual charming women morph into machines in your mind’s eye, fleshy cyborgs of buttons and levers and algorithmic code, with a power cord that leads straight to their vaj. In your drearier moments, you find it difficult to even hoist them to the level of a machine; you instead picture them as feral animals, all instinct, no heart. Feral animals that give you sustenance — meat, love, or preselection.

The first girl I fell in lust love with said two words to me. “Hi”. Twice. I didn’t game her. I didn’t know what game was, or even that women desired differently than men. But I did know the way she laid down on her stomach on a chaise lounge in her front lawn, reading a book, her pale-skinned thighs glistening in the summer sun as she swung her feet in the air like scissors. To this day, my memory of her retains a spark of mystery and whimsical, effervescent delight. I have slept with and fallen in love with many girls since, but with (almost) each one the spark and the whimsy have progressively dimmed. The dark knowledge of the crimson arts has given me what I want, but at a price. A steep price.

I bought a lover a diamond bracelet. Knowing that excessive complimentary gifts to a woman are inevitably value lowering, I presented the gift with the flourish of a scoundrel. “I was going to surprise you with a beautiful cubic zirconia, but unfortunately this is all I could steal back from my ex-girlfriend on short notice.” Smirk, pause, pause… yes… good reaction from her. I’m pleased with my handiwork. Very pleased. I think I’ll take a step back and admire the moment I just crafted.

I sometimes miss those unpredictable moments when I couldn’t take a step back.

Read Full Post »