How To Sell Yourself To Girls

Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe…

I had a friend who was a stockbroker. He was good at his craft. When anyone asked him his secret to success, he always said “How do I kill in this business? Practice. In college, I had to sell myself to the girls!”

There are very few jobs or hobbies that, if described with 100% candor, would intrigue a girl to pussy exploding abandon. Espionage is one. President of the United States is another. You can’t go wrong with jewel thief either. But for most aspiring ladykillers, the word of the day is embellish.

Here’s how this works. Let’s say you’re a CAD monkey architect and your hobbies are biking to Whole Foods for smelly French cheese, building computers, and masturbating. Your only travel experience is a vacation to Turks and Caicos. (You’re in good company. This describes 98% of men.) Now most girls, if they’re interested, want to know what you do. They have a dedicated neural network pulsating in the pastel-colored folds of their girly brains that impels them to suss out how a man makes his living and how he goes about living. But, being women, they also have a contradictory twin neural matrix that would rather you not tell them the whole, eye-glazing truth. Their need to scrutinize is held in check by their need to fantasize. So this is what you tell her:

“Oh, I’m a creator. I guess you could say I bring together art and science in the design of living space. You heard of feng shui? I’m all about it. That’s the life of a cutting edge architect. My hobbies? I mountain bike competitively. There’s nothing like the rush of careening down a muddy, rocky trail in the scenic wilderness of a rugged foreign land, the giant fronds of tropical plants slapping you in the face along the way. It’s breathtaking! I’m also something of an electronics whiz and once tried to hack into a Chinese government website back when I was a rebellious kid. Some people say I’m a very passionate guy, so much so that I can hardly contain my passion. And to tell you the truth, it gets me in trouble more often than not.”

See? Not too truthful, not too deceitful. Like Baby Bear’s porridge, juuuuuust right.

Another example:

Real You: Intern at psychiatric hospital, avid music downloader, 70s porn lover.

Embellished You: Investigator of human social dynamics under stress, music critic and indie scene connoisseur (or DJ in a pinch), erotic art collector.

Women want the varnished truth. Every man with an ounce of common sense about women and a healthy streak of amoralism will polish his sales pitch. Even Brad Pitt glosses over The Mexican. It’s a testament to how ignorant the majority of men are about women’s motivations that so many of them won’t or can’t embellish their lives in service to their loins. They think in their honesty they are being virtuous, but they are only being boring, lazy and bland.

Some men will wonder how long the pretty lies can remain undiscovered. What if you want an LTR with a girl? She’ll find out eventually, right? Wrong. First, most girls don’t really want the 411 on the dirty little details of your tiresome lifestory or career, unless they suspect you of cheating. They *like* the ruse. Second, as long as they aren’t working in the same office with you they will never really know what you do. And you know what? They don’t want to.

Maxim #39: Never tell a girl how much you make, even if you’re loaded. In case of marriage, keep separate accounts.

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“The Office” Finds Game

If you watched last Thursday’s episode of The Office, you saw Andy use some basic concepts from Game to advise Kevin how to handle a woman he likes. Watch from 3:40 onward.

Naturally, the show follows the usual PC fembot script and ridicules beta Andy for giving horrible advice to omega Kevin, while lesser alpha Jim mocks Andy’s good faith effort with that oh-so-smarmily sly and knowing irony that has become the hallmark of SWPL humor.

Although I’m sure the writers didn’t intend it, Andy is a great example of what happens when an aggressive beta gets his first exposure to game; he doesn’t fully grasp the underlying concepts which leads him to bastardize the tactics. His advice to Kevin to give “backhanded compliments” to the omega woman Kevin wants to date sounds exactly like the caricature of negs that haters of game repeat ad nauseum. Andy’s neg is an insult, not an ambiguous compliment.

Why can’t Hollywood portray Game and the pickup mentality fairly and magnanimously and without going gooey romantic beta and snide alpha in penance for broaching the subject? The answer is simple. It is a great threat to the established order if the vast lumpenbeta of men learn how to seduce women without having to first toil for years as properly submissive company men chained in servility to the corporate machine, or without having to bow and scrape before their feminist and alpha elite masters who would like nothing less than that they continue playing by the rules they themselves so flagrantly violate. And anti-Game serves the interests of natural alpha males quite well as mockery bait with which they can keep the aspiring betas in line and the pool of available alphas small.

Competition may be a wonderful thing in the abstract, but on the individual level it is an enemy to be snuffed out.

By the way, anyone else notice how rapidly Pam is aging? So sad.

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Scanning The Headlines Chateau Style

Newsflash! You can’t trust a woman’s opinion of other women’s looks. (Hi Chic.)

Everyone loves a pretty face – except those women who might see it as a threat. With eyes on the competition, women of childbearing age rate other attractive women consistently lower than women who have entered menopause, according to a new study.

“It’s almost as if they’re putting down other attractive women,” says Benedict Jones, a psychologist at Aberdeen University, UK, who led the study of 97 middle-aged women.

This explains why so many chicks blab on and on about how “womanly”, “handsome”, “confident” or “sexy” older women look. They are downplaying the real competition — pretty young thangs.

***

Appletini goggles.

Even when sober women who drink more are less able to detect male facial asymmetry. So crooked-faced guys should look for female regular drinkers.

Researchers found that women who drink even moderately develop a reduced ability to rate attractiveness in male faces, even when they are sober.

Those who drank were less able to detect male facial symmetry, a marker of attractiveness and good genes which is thought to play an important role in the choice of a partner.

Even 5 drinks per month diminished ability to score facial symmetry. Researcher Kirsten Oinonen at Lakehead University in Thunderbay Ontario expects that women whose minds are altered in this way will find less attractive guys more attractive when their decreased attractiveness is caused by facial asymmetry.

If you’re searching for a wife or husband, stop drinking. Or don’t stop drinking for the rest of your life.

***

Badboys, crime, popularity: Natural born ladykillers.

Genes prompt rabble-rouser behavior. But they also foster popularity, according to Alexandra Burt, a Michigan State University behavioral geneticist who released a “groundbreaking study” that suggests good news for bad boys.

Men who had a gene associated with “rule-breaking behavior” were rated most popular by a group of previously unacquainted peers, she found.

[…]

In August, the University of North Carolina also revealed a link between three particular genes and “a life of crime” after following 1,100 teenage boys over a six-year period, clearly establishing a link between the presence of those genes and aggressive behavior.

Such research has had a darker side. The idea that “bad genes” held dangerous sway over some people prompted the Supreme Court in 1927 to rule in favor of the forced sterilization of criminals and mental patients. The court reversed the decision in 1942 as unconstitutional.

These days, researchers suggest that a touch of bad behavior gives men a boost in popularity and with their sexual relationships. Narcissism, impulsiveness and deceit – the “dark triad” – play a definitive role in wooing, according to separate research conducted by both Mexico State University and Bradley University in 2008.

In a way, Game is a system for mimicking the behaviors of men who possess the “badboy genes”. Readers often wonder if alpha is inborn then how much can learning Game accomplish? A lot. If you don’t have a natural musical talent, you can train for a couple years and still wow girls with a few choice tunes on your Fender Strat. You may not go from 4s to 10s, but you’ll go from 4s to 7s. And for most betas, that is like winning the pussy lottery.

***

Section 8 strikes back.

ANTIOCH, Calif. (AP) – As more and more black renters began moving into this mostly white San Francisco Bay Area suburb a few years ago, neighbors started complaining about loud parties, mean pit bulls, blaring car radios, prostitution, drug dealing and muggings of schoolchildren.

In 2006, as the influx reached its peak, the police department formed a special crime-fighting unit to deal with the complaints, and authorities began cracking down on tenants in federally subsidized housing.

[…]

An increasing number of poor families receiving federal rental assistance have been moving here in recent years, partly because of the housing crisis.

A growing number of landlords were seeking a guaranteed source of revenue in a city hard-hit by foreclosures. They began offering their Antioch homes to low-income tenants in the HUD Section 8 housing program, which pays about two-thirds of every tenant’s rent.

If you are seeking an apartment in DC, here is a handy map I found which will aid you in avoiding blocks that are close to Section 8 housing.

Joseph Villarreal, the housing authority chief, said the problems in Antioch mirror tensions seen nationally when poor renters move into neighborhoods they can afford only with government help.

“One of the goals of the programs is to de-concentrate poverty,” Villarreal said. “There are just some people who don’t want to spend public money that way.”

No shit. Because another way of saying “de-concentrate poverty” is “spread the crime”. Villarreal is one of those leftwing social engineering dickbags I will laugh at when he’s hanging from a lamppost after the glorious revolution against the elitist-driven Campaign of Lies has begun.

***

Slut Pride.

You’ll recall Harvard junior Lena Chen as one of our official compulsive oversharers. She’s a sex blogger whose ex leaked naked pictures of her once. Now, in addition to the sex blog, she’s got a more personal blog intended to correct the fact that Chen is “famous on the internet for all the wrong things.” This makes it the perfect venue for pictures of… well, I’ll just say it: of Chen right after getting “a facial.”

When a culture’s sexual strategy shifts to African-style short term hookups and soft polygamy, proud public displays of sluttiness by women become more commonplace. I’ll leave it as an exercise for the reader why this is so.

***

Best Comment Ever in a story about professional b-ball player Marko Jaric marrying Victoria’s Secret model Adriana Lima. (link provided by G Manifesto)

Really??????? He must have a Chocolate penis that ejaculates cash!

And bon bons for balls.

***

Extending the decades of carefree casual sex.

Researchers believe boosting the amount of a naturally forming enzyme in the body could prevent cells dying and so lead to extended, healthier, lifespans.

As I’ve said before, aging should be treated like the cruel horrible disease it is. “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be” is such a ridiculous ego-saving baldfaced lie. It’s the equivalent of saying “Go ahead and get fat, I’ll still love you.”

***

Some people think this is just splendid.

For more than two centuries, it has been a wannabe among the great world capitals. But now, Washington is finally ready for its close-up.

No longer a jumped-up Canberra or, worse, Sacramento, it seems about to emerge as Pyongyang on the Potomac, the undisputed center of national power and influence. As a new president takes over the White House, the United States’ capacity for centralization has arguably never been greater. But it’s neither Barack Obama’s charm nor his intentions that are driving the centrifugal process that’s concentrating authority in the capital city. It’s the unprecedented collapse of rival centers of power.

This is most obvious in economic affairs, an area in which the nation’s great regions have previously enjoyed significant autonomy. But already the dukes of Wall Street and Detroit have submitted their papers to Washington for vassalage. Soon many other industries, from high-tech to agriculture and energy, will become subject to a Kremlin full of special czars. Even the most haughty boyar may have to genuflect to official orthodoxy on everything from social equity to sanctioned science.

At the same time, the notion of decentralized political power — the linchpin of federalism — is unraveling. Today, once proudly independent — even defiant — states, counties and cities sit on the verge of insolvency. New York and California, two megastates, face record deficits. From California to the Carolinas, local potentates with no power to print their own money will be forced to kiss Washington’s ring.

It is decidedly un-American to submit to such a strong, central federal government. It’s been the goal of our Ivy League gentry for the past 50 years to move America away from the American model and towards a socialist European model, finally culminating in a Banana Republic model. Good times!

Americans may still possess what the 19th-century historian Frederick Jackson Turner described as “an antipathy to control,” but lately, they seem willing to submit themselves to an unprecedented dose of it. A financial collapse driven by unrestrained private excess — falling, ironically, on the supposedly anti-Washington Republicans’ watch — seems to have transformed federal government cooking into the new comfort food.

A terrible enervation has infected the souls of Americans. We are surrendering our essence. We are betraying our own principles.

This lowly status stemmed, to some extent, from what the historian James Sterling Young has defined as the “anti-power” ethos of early Americans. The revolutionary generation and its successors loathed the confluence of power and wealth that defined 19th-century London or Paris. A muddy outpost in the woods seemed more appropriate to republican ideals.

We are importing tens of millions of the peasant class from culturally and genetically antagonistic countries who do not possess a natural instinct towards American-style individualism and distrust of government. Our historical “anti-power” ethos is rapidly being replaced in a great demographic tsunami by a “daddy government” ethos. Way to go, guys!

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Lies About Women Who Love Abusers

Like a dispatched army of obfuscators and purveyors of palatable lies, the fembot foot soldiers were marching in locktstep after news broke of Rihanna’s return to the violently abusive man she deeply loves. The lies, pop culture psychoanalysis and threadbare excuses were flying left and right.

“It’s really hard for a woman to leave an abuser. Where will she go? How will she survive?”

“He’s controlling/manipulative. She was too weak to resist that.”

“He wears down her self-esteem. Eventually, she depends on the beatings to feel loved, and the cycle continues.”

Grade A bullshit. How do I know this? Easy. A simple thought experiment will suffice to aid understanding.

When a woman wants to leave a beta boyfriend/husband who makes her life a misery, is it:

a. hard for her to leave him?

b. impossible because she won’t be able to survive on her own/find a place to live?

c. difficult because she can’t resist his mind control?

d. not going to happen because she depends on his beta behavior to validate her self-esteem? or

e. pretty fucking easy for her to walk out the door/sign the divorce papers?

It’s amazing the verbal calisthenics humans will go through to avoid facing up to a disconcerting truth. Fembots especially; they’ve got so much invested in the prevailing shibboleths that to turn their backs on them now in this crucial matter of why women return to abusers would amount to a repudiation of the holy foundation of dyke dogma — that women are not responsible for their choices, and that a woman’s sexual nature is a moral paragon to ceaselessly celebrate. Rihanna, like so many women, runs back into the arms of her beatdown boyfriend because…

wait for it…

she loves him.

And she loves him more because he hits her. This explains why, despite immense family and social pressure (really, an entire country’s worth of social pressure) to leave Chris Brown, and despite the likelihood of future painful beatings at his hands, Rihanna could not ignore the pull of her heart. Love is too powerful an emotion to be swayed by the blunt tools of shame, reason, or even fear.

Superficially, the red-faced excusers may be describing some element of psychological reality that happens in the heads of women like Rihanna. But they are only teasing around the edges. Full understanding eludes them because they miss the core motivation — the emotional juggernaut — that animates the woman who willingly makes herself vulnerable to a physically abusive lover. They refuse to acknowledge this because in their minds it says something unflattering about women they’d rather not know.

On a related note, I am not surprised that the usual suspects who comment on this blog haven’t come out and condemned Rihanna for rushing back into the arms of Brown. The sound of silence is deafening…

In other news, a British model spoke about a two-year relationship with a man who put her in the hospital for a week.

The Liverpudlian beauty was a teenage model when she started dating her abusive ex, who she has declined to name.

She’s still protective of him. Love will do that to a girl.

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Anti-Game

Damian and I were at a multi-floored historic building converted into a lounge (a not uncommon idiosyncrasy of the city) that features the hottest female waitstaff and bartenders in the city.

Damian bumped my elbow and motioned me to look toward two attractive blondes — a 7.5 and an 8.5 — who were standing near us. Two men had just walked up and engaged them in conversation. Both men were, as far as I can tell these things, decent-looking, over 6 feet tall, and in shape. One was older– late 30s, early 40s — and sharply dressed with a dash of gray around the temples. His buddy was late 20s, early 30s, and dressed more casually. The younger guy had a frat boy-ish vibe, while the older guy struck a more sophisticated pose.

Since all four of them were within earshot, I focused my listening attention on the group, occasionally glancing over, so I could enjoy the spectacle of these guys running whatever game they had on the two blondes. When I see a choice setup like this, I take it as an opportunity to observe and learn or, in the case of men with no game, to amuse myself and gawk at the carnage, while positioning for a flanking maneuver.

Approach

The men went straight in, telegraphing their interest from the word “go”. Opened with “Hey, how you guys doing?” Points for boldness, demerits for shitty opener. Even in socially overheated crowded venues, the best approach is noncommittal — from an angle, over the shoulder. Also, it doesn’t hurt to be a little more creative than “How you doin’?”.

Girls’ Reaction

The poor approach didn’t hurt these guys. The girls welcomed them with big smiles and enthusiastic hellos, probably because the men were reasonably good-looking compared to the average man in the place. The older man looked like he was of means.

Body Language

The men registered the girls’ positive reaction and took the beta bait, amping up their energy levels and enthusiasm. This was my first hint that a pickup attempt disaster was looming. The younger guy began grinning ear to ear like an idiot, and bobbing his head up and down each time the girls talked. The older guy maintained a more aloof body language, keeping his back straight and avoiding any “pecking” or leaning into the girls. He didn’t wildly smile like his fratboy buddy. I could see he had more self-control and experience than his younger friend. His economy of words and body movement made him seem the more confident of the two men. If I noticed that, then surely the girls noticed it as well.

Conversation

The men ran what I call Chit Chat Game. This is the kind of conversation you make with someone when you are bereft of anything interesting to say. “What do you think of this place?” “You guys live in the city?” “Hey, the martinis here are really good.” “You guys like to dance?” “Whoa, you’re from North Carolina?” “How about those Tar Heels!” The fratboy latched onto this subject because it was in his comfort zone. “Yeah, you’re a Tar Heels fan? All riiiiiight!! High five!”. He tried to hold the high five with the 7.5 for a second too long, but she dropped her hand fast.

Yes, the guys were actually talking college sports. I could *feel* the initial attraction drain out of the girls, like a nail in a tire slowly letting out air. Their smiles had turned plastic, and they began gripping their drinks tighter and holding them up higher on their chests. The hotter one made a series of quick sidelong surveys around the room.

The older man wasn’t talking as much, but when he did he had a steadier, calmer cadence than his sports fan friend. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t lead and take control of the conversation when it started sputtering into lame sports talk territory. What he did contribute was of the “business interview” variety. More mature than gushing over the Tar Heels to be sure, but still death for pickup.

Escape

Surprisingly, Fric and Frac managed to stay in set for fifteen minutes. I chalked it up to the niceness of the girls — they were very forgiving of horrid game that would have sent the typical urban lawyer chick into massive shit test, ball crushing mode, after suckering the tools for free drinks of course. These two girls must have been from out of town — way out of town.

The 7.5 delivered the cockblock signal to her friend — a thin-lipped entreaty and an almost imperceptible eyebrow raise — but that was all it took for her to get the message.

“Well, we’re going to go upstairs now. See you!” As they turned and slithered away from the men, Fratboy looked over his shoulder at them and in a sickeningly pleading voice moaned “Aww, you guys are going upstairs?? All right, maybe we’ll see you up there!” The girls didn’t bother looking back.

Denouement

Damian found all this the height of hilarity, but also was overcome with an urge to pummel the beta out of these guys. He believes bad game is more nauseating than eating a spoiled enchilada. It really is like rubbernecking at a particularly gruesome car accident. I enjoy bad game in others because it means less competition for me. This is why I support gay rights. I want as many men as possible to feel comfortable embracing the butt pirate lifestyle and thus removing themselves from hetero circulation.

Fratboy and Boring Gent talked amongst themselves, obviously planning a way to reconnect with the girls. Someone needed to be charitable and interject to explain the futility of their situation, but no man’s ego is strong enough to handle that sort of constructive criticism, especially not in the chaos of the field. Instead, we watched them climb up the stairs to meet their by now long gone girls.

We didn’t have the heart to tell them that the only thing upstairs were the bathrooms.

Rebirth

Later, I bumped into the hotter girl on the first level of the club. I smiled at her.

“So, how did those guys do?”

She laughed.

*********

A lot of losers in love insist that “being yourself” is morally superior to “manipulating and seducing” a girl with game. They have an instinctual aversion to anything that doesn’t conform to the beta script of “boy meets girl and sometimes magic happens in a most satisfyingly natural and unforced way, as God intended”. They believe any conscious effort to make oneself more attractive to the opposite sex is inherently dishonest.

They are wrong. Honesty is recognizing that women have different desires and appealing to that. Dishonesty with yourself is ignoring this fundamental fact of the sexes, and selfishly expecting women to be attracted to your principled obstinacy.

What game-hating beta losers don’t comprehend is that the opposite of Game — casual chit chat — can increase a man’s failure rate with women who would otherwise prefer that he not disappoint them so. “Being yourself” isn’t an ethically or strategically neutral stance; it is an unnecessarily negative obstacle to connecting with women in the way they want you to connect with them. Despite what women claim, they would really rather you run some game on them so they can feel those good feelings that are aroused by skilled practitioners of the art of indulging the female psyche. They just don’t want you to tell them you’re running game.

The two girls were happy to be approached by the two men on account of their style and looks. But Anti-Game quickly eroded whatever attraction was there initially. These guys were being themselves, and it cost them dearly. They were “honest” according to the beta playbook, and they were punished for their honesty.

Anti-Game is the equivalent of being an ill-prepared Boy Scout. Anti-Game is to men what going out wearing baggy pants and flannel shirt, no makeup, and greasy, unkempt hair is to women. Sure, you may be good-looking enough to pull some ass despite your lack of game or your figure-concealing unflattering clothes, but you’ll be needlessly limiting your options.

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Less Is Less

Christmas decorations (notice I didn’t use the word holiday. that would be beta) are going up around the office. Taped to one wall is a printout with candy canes and snowmen and the words “Less is more”.

It’s funny the things people tell themselves to perk up their banal existences.

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