Girl Tells Boyfriend He Needs More Male Friends

A reader writes,

I wrote to you before about your advice improving the relationship with my mom.

I want your critical and scrutinizing take on another situation. I’ve been in a relationship for almost 3 years now. It’s going great. I keep it in-line with CH preachings and wisdom, and I would even go as far as saying that both of us are pretty happy. I’ve never been the type to be the super macho alpha male. I would describe myself as Tom Haverford from the show Parks and Rec, except caucasian, and a bit taller. Now that the necessary background info is out of the way, here’s the question: I find it much easier to talk to girls and make friends with them than with guys. I have 1 guy friend, and about 11 girl friends. (As a side note, from those 10, about 2 of them are dtf.) I’ve never cheated on my gf. I don’t hide the fact that I am in relationship from any of them, and I do not broadcast every detail of my relationship either. I find that girls are easier to go out and do things with, like go to the bar, play pool, or even just grab a coffee, or lunch with. (Maybe it’s easy for me due to the fact that I internalized your ways of game and flirting, and had ample of practice on my actual gf.) Where as with guys in the past and now I had friends who I would do a certain activity with i.e. soccer sam, xbox mike etc. but thats about it.

Anyways, naturally this drives my real girlfriend nuts. She’s not the overly attached girlfriend, who texts me every minute asking me where am I, but if she hears that I’m in company of girls when she calls, she would go like “oh right, you are with your girlfriends, sorry I’ll call you back” Or if I’m about to send a text to someone and she sees my phone messaging screen and its mostly girls names she gets upset. She also met a few of my “girlfriends” and every now and then would throw something like “sorry I’m not Katie” etc. My gf keeps hinting that I need more guy friends, and that it’s “weird” that I don’t hang out with guys at all, and that I should do something about it. On the other hand, I am quite satisfied with the situation.

What’s your take?

My take: you’re sitting in the driver’s seat. You’re right to feel quite satisfied with the present arrangement. Everything you’ve written tells of a woman who is beset by irritating, if manageable, jealousy pangs, and has assumed the perpetual chaser role of the girlfriend who feels she must continually re-earn her man’s love and affection.

This state of affairs may sound bad in print, but these kinds of men aren’t the ones getting taken to the cleaners by icy ex-wives.

When a girl like this one tells you to swap out most of your female friends for male friends, she’s practically confessed to feeling threatened.

Women who are in charge of their relationships typically put the kibosh on their men hanging out with their male friends too much because those women don’t want their men’s attentions (read: resources) spent frivolously on his gang of bros.  These women don’t worry so much about female competition because they don’t believe their beta herbs are capable of seducing other women. This is how it goes for, oh, 80-90% of long-term relationships.

In contrast, women who *aren’t* in charge of their relationships typically fret more about their men spending time in the company of women, any women, in any context. These women do worry about the female competition, because they know their boyfriends/husbands have the charismatic chops to woo aspiring mistresses. And they know that women are mercenary behind the fair maiden masks, and will eagerly encourage a betrayal.

Be happy that you hold court with women. It’s not weird, it’s exhilarating, for you and your girlfriend.

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A Woman Needs A Man To Put Her In Her Place

Another stirring affirmation of CH-elucidated sociosexual realities comes courtesy of a peculiar agreement arranged between a married couple and researchers designing an experiment to test whether stubbornness by one or both spouses produces unhappy marriages. (ps: ♥)

It is better to be right than to be happy – at least for one husband on the cutting edge of science.

As part of an unusual experiment, the husband was instructed to “agree with his wife’s every opinion and request without complaint,” and to continue doing so “even if he believed the female participant was wrong,” according to a report on the research that was published Tuesday by the British Medical Journal. […]

Based on the assumption that men would rather be happy than be right, he was told to agree with his wife in all cases. However, based on the assumption that women would rather be right than be happy, the doctors decided not to tell the wife why her husband was suddenly so agreeable.

Both spouses were asked to rate their quality of life on a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 being the happiest) at the start of the experiment and again on Day 6. It’s not clear how long the experiment was intended to last, but it came to an abrupt halt on Day 12.

“By then the male participant found the female participant to be increasingly critical of everything he did,” the researchers reported. The husband couldn’t take it anymore, so he made his wife a cup of tea and told her what had been going on.

That led the researchers to terminate the study.

Maybe the researchers thought that aiding the dissolution of a marriage violated ethical boundaries.

Over the 12 days of the experiment, the husband’s quality of life plummeted from a baseline score of 7 all the way down to 3. The wife started out at 8 and rose to 8.5 by Day 6. She had no desire to share her quality of life with the researchers on Day 12, according to the report.

Translation: The wife was appalled by the revelations into her sexual nature.

“It seems that being right, however, is a cause of happiness, and agreeing with what one disagrees with is a cause of unhappiness,” they wrote. They also noted that “the availability of unbridled power adversely affects the quality of life of those on the receiving end.”

Behaving like a supplicating beta male will increase your unhappiness, partly because it feels unmanly, but mostly because you’ll incite the seething contempt of your girlfriend or wife. CH readers won’t be surprised to read that an overly agreeable husband earned nothing but nagging criticism from his wife. The wife’s self-reported happiness didn’t budge much from Day1 to Day 6 of having her ego relentlessly stroked, but as we all know women are distinctly incapable, as a sex, of honestly and accurately aligning their socialized thoughts with their unsocialized feelings. A woman possesses a deep pool of innate talent for subconsciously reconciling contradictory emotions.

It would have been interesting to see how the wife rated herself on Day 12, but the self-reported result wouldn’t have had much impact on her *true* feelings, as manifest by her compulsion to nag the shit out of her husband for agreeing with everything she said. Never mind the wife’s words; her actions say it all. Women don’t respect, don’t desire, and certainly don’t tingle for excessively agreeable men. We know this from cold hard experience, and we know this from scientific inquiry. What a woman wants is a man who will put her in her place when she’s wrong or being silly. To stand up for himself. To call her out on her bullshit, aka shit tests. Oh sure, she’ll make a show and bitch and moan at first… but then watch her face vulvaically glow with desirous urgency as the life-giving waters of his insistent masculinity pour into her thirsty feminine soul. Yeah, just like that.

The Chateau covered this ground before, referencing a similar study. “Yes, dear” men get nothing but headaches, both their own and their wives’. “No, dear” men get enduring love, bordering on worship, from their grateful wives.

Continuing with the linked study above,

The three doctors think they might be on to something, and they wrote that they would like to see the work continue: “More research is needed to see whether our results hold if it is the male who is always right.”

Happy Whoridays! There has been “research” along those lines. As commenter Trimegistus asked,

Everywhere this article has been reported on they leave out the obvious, critical detail: WOMEN don’t react well to always being agreed with by men. If the experiment had been done with the opposite approach (wife agrees with hubby) it could go on for years because both of them would come to find it satisfying and pleasant.

A wife, writing on PuffedHo about her most intimate personal matters, decided that in order to resurrect her marital lust life she would agree to her husband’s desire for as much sex as possible. She didn’t want to do it, not on a conscious awareness level at any rate, but she discovered that acquiescing in total to her husband’s wishes made her own life a lot… happier! And less stressful. Feminists of course will be delighted to learn that wives who follow the Biblical command to obey their husbands enjoy a much more positive state of mind.

This is where women need to be, even if they will never say so, or are incapable of saying so, outright: Following the lead of their lovers instead of leading them around like a neutered cat on a leash. Anything less would be… unsatisfying.

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How To Evade Tough Questioning From Women

This one time, in gigolo camp…

I’d like to relay a conversation I had with a past lover who asked a very pointed question as we were strolling along a riverbank (yes, really! Hallmark called and wanted their moment back), in hopes that it will impart a valuable lesson for the next generation of pussy houndlings. Our love ended when she moved far away, but she later returned for a few weeks and met with me to wax nostalgic over old times. The pertinent part of our convo follows:

Her: Did you use game on me?

Me: (momentarily rattled) What do you mean?

Her: I mean did you say things that would make me fall for you? Were your feelings real?

After a few seconds pause to collect myself and stop from blurting an ill-formed, self-incriminating reply, I stowed my easy smile and summoned my Very Serious Face.

Me: Since when did you become so cynical? One thing I’ll always regret is turning a woman like you into a cynic. It doesn’t suit you.

Her: I’m not cynical. I was just wondering if you meant what you said to me.

Me: Tell me, was I a bad influence on you?

Her: No.

Me: But I was. You sound like a different girl today. That’s not good. You’ve lost something, and it kills me inside.

Our conversation took a detour at that juncture, as we passed a store that reminded her of the place where I picked her up. When we returned to the subject, she asked me what I meant when I said she was different now than when I met her. All talk of “game” had ceased.

Note three themes: 1) I never answered her question directly. 2) I redirected the conversation so that she was put on the defensive, having to reconcile both a possible change in her personality for the worse, and blame for making me feel like “it was killing me inside”. 3) The “bad influence” assumption fed her desire for JERKBOY drama.

The wild-eyed feminist reader shrieks, “That’s manipulation!” Is it? Substantively, nothing I said was false. Her fling with me really did provoke in her a small measure of cynicism. It’s also true that she was a naturally big-hearted girl for whom cynicism conflicted with those temperamental attributes that made her special to me. And finally, I did in fact feel kind of bad for arousing in her dark suspicions. And it is a fact as well that women welcome a bit of badboy excitement in their love lives.

But there would’ve been no gain to be had, for either of us, from admitting under interrogation that I had used game on her or from expressing regret for the use of game rather than regret for the effect that it had on her uncorrupted, trusting love. Because I knew from experience that when women ask seemingly pointed questions, what they really want to know goes much deeper, to primal feelings that women hold near and dear, like, for instance, the nature of loving reciprocation. Directing my replies to those deeper feelings in her, as if I was talking to a separate being or the real woman behind the curtain, would yield fuller intimacy.

So I had used game. And I meant what I had said to her when we first met. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Game was the best way to persuade her that my feelings for her were genuine, because I knew that she would need that professionally administered seduction to be open to receiving my sincere message of love. Yes, you evade tough questioning from a woman to sidestep discomfort and bad feelings, but you also evade her dead end inquisitions to grapple with the turbulence of her hidden, animating emotions. The art and science of seduction can be as enlightening as it can be bewildering. And there’s no woman in the world who doesn’t love it for both reasons.

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Humiliated In Front Of A Girl

A reader suffered a grievous insult to his dignity when a man caressed his face and recommended masturbation as an alternative to competing in the sexual market.

So here’s my situation … There’s this girl that I like.

The prologue of every beta male lament ever.

I’ve liked her for over 3 years, and made out with her when her and her ex (now current boyfriend) broke up. This guy left her and started seeing her sister for 5 months, yeah he’s that big of a douche bag, and he’s not even that good looking!! See attached pic. (That’s his profile pic on Facebook..)

Verified.

I’ve tried to AMOG this guy using the information on your site, I’ve tried in school and I’ve tried at clubs. He’s literally patted my cheek and told me to “go jerk off” right in front of her!

Physical contact with the face is a thermobaric dominance move. He may as well have been taking you from behind to the roars of the approving crowd. This dude is a Nimitz class AMOG.

And she doesn’t say anything!

Of course she doesn’t. Her tongue is trapped in a cognitive dissonance dimension where her estrogenic tingles for the douchebag and her oxytocinic pity for your debasement drive her to catatonia.

She just says sorry then asks him to be nicer to her friends, which he shrugs off!

He shrugs it off because he knows her words mean nothing when her vagina is saying something else.

This guys an asshole and doesn’t deserve her at all!

The epilogue of every beta male lament ever.

I’ve tried talking with her secretly and telling her he’s an ass and that she deserves some one better, even if it isn’t me!

Are you pulling our legs?

He didn’t get her a birthday or a Christmas present, and on their anniversary he tried to convince her to have a threesome with her sister!

Didn’t even bother with the bag of Skittles. Alpha.

She stormed off, to my house 😉 unfortunately couldn’t get any, she was too rattelted up, and he went off to her house, where her sister was! This guys not an alpha, he’s an ass hole!

For all practical purposes, one and the same.

I hired a professional “PUA” in [Canadian city] to help me out we went to the club they were at and [XXXX] (the mPUA) approached her at the bar and within a minute one of [XXXX]’s (the douche bag) friends was all over [the mPUA] telling him to “fuck off – she’s taken”. [The mPUA] tried to AMOG his friend by tapping his shoulder and trying to continue conversation and he got punched in the face! I’ve never seen this animalistic behavior before between grown men! How do I AMOG this guy!?

Now that I’ve read through the entire email, I’m 99% certain it’s a variety of troll known as the exaggeratum ad absurdum troll, the intent of the troll being to discredit game blogs by trapping them in long-winded debates about the merits of this or that tactic for dealing with a fabricated crisis.

It’s a good bet none of this stuff ever happened. So why publish it? Because it’s funny. More importantly, because far out on the asshole curve there really do exist men like the guy in this reader’s fantasy story, who will tool you horribly in front of a girl, say by patting your face and telling you to fuck off. You won’t meet these kinds of guys often (if ever), but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared should you have the misfortune of crossing paths with one of them. It therefore behooves the reading audience to use such troll attempts as a springboard into wider discussion about how to handle AMOG antagonists who love to humiliate lesser men in public.

Let’s get the crux of the matter out of the way. If a man malevolently touches your face, that’s grounds to sock him. No question about it. A demeaning face pat is the G-rated equivalent of a cock slap against your cheek. You reply with a hammer blow to his gut or nose. This goes whether a girl is present or not.

If, by some chance, the fighting force is too weak in you to muster it at the moment it’s most justified, then you can try the “agree & amplify” technique for disarming brazen AMOGs. A dude pats your cheek, you look at the girls, then back at him, and say, “Was that like a signal for gay sex? Because I have to tell you, I don’t roll that way.” Or, “You can’t stop thinking about my cock, can you? Don’t worry, I won’t judge. My cock is unforgettable.”

If you really want to fuck with the AMOG, ask him within earshot of everyone what it’s like to date sisters, at the same time. Then direct some of your artillery at the girls themselves, to implicate them in the AMOG’s assholery. Tell the girls you’re really impressed with their willingness to share a man, that it’s very 21st century and open-minded. If you think this is a step too far, recall that the AMOG (allegedly) punched a PUA in the face. (Some readers may get a thrill up their legs about that little detail, but let’s try to empathize with the beta here. He’s the one who wrote for assistance.)

In the meantime, reader/troll, go find a new social group and next the girl. She’s obviously cunt over heels for this lunkhead, so let her be with her Chris Brown. It’s a good life strategy to avoid getting entangled with girls who helplessly swoon for ragebots, if for no other reason than the increased likelihood one of her exes will come back to take what he thinks is his, and his problems become your problems.

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The Best Attitude For Successfully Dating The Modern Single Woman

A reader emailed a run-of-the-mill question about the effectiveness of his text game, seeking advice from Chateau paragons of carnality. He’ll get his question answered, but there’s a bigger theme to this post.

I’m trying to extract the most fun out of this conversation with a girl. Comments? I’m building my skills. Met her on college campus and she gave me her number on the spot. Do post it if you wish, but keep my name off the post please.

Friday: Me: Hi. I see you around sometimes. Saturday at noon buy me lunch at _____; we’ll forget the world and relax in a limited time.  20-30 minutes; more if the world will wait.

The bloated prose of overgaming. Why did you text “I see you around sometimes” after she had given you her number? It sounds disjointed. Good rule to follow: there’s never a scenario when “I see you around sometimes” doesn’t sound stalker-ish. The rest of your text is comical in its romantic abandon. I know you’re trying to be ironic and funny, but does she know that? Your intense come-on, however disingenuous, reveals the limitations of text conversations.

Her: Hey sorry if this sounds rude but I’ don’t really feel comfortable texting with you and definitely not comfortable meeting up with you. I don’t know you. And also I don’t know what your intentions are and I have a boyfriend. And we don’t feel comfortable. Sorry.

The lead may have been warm, but after your initial text it went ice cold.

Sunday. me: I laughed.

Did you laugh to yourself, or did you text her a status update on your chortling?

(another text) me: Silly your defense mechanisms activated. congrats your gfs are proud. I’m not interested in dating you or telling the world I’m talking with you. Assumed I wanted more? good girl you freaked out so hard. now I want shaved ice at ______(different place).

So hideously try-hard. Of course she assumed you wanted more. You’re reaching out to her, right? Implausible deniability is the branding of the butthurt beta who chewed off a bigger mouthful of chick sass than he could handle. If it’s obvious to everyone here reading this then it was obvious to her that you were stung by her rejection and backtracked clumsily into a transparently empty denial of intent.

I forgot to mention the girl is light-skinned Asian, about 5’5″ or 5’4″… a six or seven among the asian pop. (pretty big at my school), a four among the other white girls. I’m white. 5’6″.

Mostly irrelevant. Asians girls need more emotional investment than do white girls, but this minor racial difference wouldn’t have mattered in your case. You nuked yourself from orbit.

You came for comments on your game and suggestions for improvement, and you’ll get that, but there’s a bigger problem you need to solve: your mental state.

Better reply:

Her: Hey sorry if this sounds rude but I’ don’t really feel comfortable texting with you and definitely not comfortable meeting up with you. Sorry sorry sorry blah blah sorry sorry no tingles sorry sorry sorry you’re creepy sorry sorry sorry sorry.

You: so marriage and kids are out, then?

If you want to leave the impression that you don’t take a girl’s dodges seriously, you should approach with an attitude of amused detachment. Like she’s nothing in the scheme of your life. Which she is. If you think a girl you just met is more than nothing, your behavior will reflect your inner beta psychology. And lame, needy and tactless is no way to go through life, son.

No matter how many text suggestions you read at this blog, you will continue making the same mistakes, because your ATTITUDE is WEAK. You feel aggrieved, you feel urgency, and you feel scarcity constraining your dating market options. As long as you feel those things, you’ll never quite grasp the art of flirtatious badinage. You might parrot a killer line here or there, but that line will be book-ended by pages of betaness.

So instead of giving you a clam to eat, we’ll teach you how to fish clams for yourself. There’s really only one thing you need to know: have the right attitude, and the details of seduction, with just a little prompting, will fall into place. What’s that attitude? It’s best summed up in a thought experiment:

A girl communicates with you. It’s on! You get nervous. Don’t want to blow it. Don’t be beta don’t be beta don’t be beta. You strain to retrieve some smart response that establishes your alpha boner fides.

Instead of struggling for that perfect quip, access your deeper psyche and mold your emotional state. What would you say to her if you received her message while swaddled in the smooth flesh of three gorgeous nymphets going down on your knob?

There’s your answer.

Now let’s revisit your hopeless interaction, but this time in the form of a super alpha male luxuriating in the caresses of three darling dainties.

You: what’s up. drinks fri?

Her: Hey sorry if this sounds rude but I’ don’t really feel comfortable texting with you and definitely not comfortable meeting up with you. I don’t know you. And also I don’t know what your intentions are and I have a boyfriend. And we don’t feel comfortable. Sorry.

You: sweet.

That’s the aloof attitude to have if you want success dating the modern single woman. She doesn’t love lovesick Romeo. She loves lovestuffed Romeo whose sexy attitude is a product of getting wrung dry by a cortege of concubines.

Maxim #14: Whenever you’re at a loss for what to say to a girl you like, imagine you’re a man in bed with three beautiful women. Then say what that man would say.

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The Left’s Propaganda Machine

The Cathedral (refresher) has many ways of beating you senseless with lies and propaganda until your morale improves. The Cathedral clerisy has won so many victories over the past decades, and their power is so entrenched, that their hubris has made them sloppy. How else to explain laughable, over-the-top indoctrination like this?

Fuckin’ Toronto. Locus of equalist filth. It’s hardly worth the bother to itemize the lies and distortions of reality evident in this classroom activity designed with the purpose of derogating the self-worth of white men, but let’s have at it for entertainment value.

First, if anyone’s gonna be caught smoking at a subway station, it’ll be a Tonto in Toronto. Blacks and whites smoke at about the same rates.

Second, no black woman waiting to ride a bus will gently rebuke a smoker in the King’s English: “Sir, could you please put out the cigarette as the smoke is being blown in my direction? I am very allergic to smoke. The sign on the wall says this is a no-smoking area.” 😆 !! Yeah, what universe does this happen in? More likely: “Yo, get dat smoke outta my face, mufugga, fo I wreck you azz!”

Third, the entire premise is a joke. Any leftoid twit who rides subways and buses, given enough anonymity and truth serum ABV, will admit that blacks are responsible for about, oh, 99% of infractions, annoying and lethal, on public transit. Fuckin’ white SWPLs who ride buses don’t smoke and anyhow wouldn’t be caught dead blowing smoke in the face of some ghetto momma. Toronto whites are probably like amped-up versions of urban striver faggot whites everywhere: bending over backwards to appease blacks and avoid setting off their infamous hair trigger tempers. You want a realistic conversation between a black woman and a chipmunk-cheeked white man at a bus station in SWPLville? Here:

Black woman: snarl

White superSWPL: smiles warmly Cute kid. Hey there little guy!

Black woman: Get yo perv ass outta here.

Fourth, the fantasy reply by the white man is something you wouldn’t hear in the West. Not anymore, now that white men have had their testosterone drained from them by constant brow-beating and the repulsive visage of fat women. But assuming there is a white man who would speak so impolitely, the facts support his imputation: 72% of blacks are born to single moms.

Reflective Questions

• Was oppression manifested in this situation?

Yes, I feel oppressed by the amount of tax dollars white men have to pay to grease your vocation of shitting on white men with impunity.

• What type of oppressions can you identify?

The Danegeld.

• What does this tell you about how oppression works?

If you’re in power, you get to dictate the who-whom terms.

• How would you have responded if you were the black person?

“That’s real retarded, sir.”

• How would you have responded as a witness?

Around blacks, never relax.

• Would you have responded at all?

I’d stop taking drugs if I heard a single black mom at a bus stop speak in coherent English.

You ever get the notion that these blurts of Cathedral brainwashing are revealing glimpses into their deepest and truest feelings? That in fact the Narrative is one big case of mass psychological projection? One day, sooner than the elite think, the white man will WAKE UP, and, if history is any guide, when the slumbering beast of the North is finally roused from hibernation the ground will shake and the heavens will rend with righteous retribution.

Or not, and this beautiful creation of Western whites will slowly decay into a cesspool of encroaching Third Worldism and corn and porn saturated ennui. Place your bets.

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Ellipsis Game

We know girls love men whose flirting is laced with ambiguous intention. Ambiguity, especially when coupled with alluring male ambivalence, gives the female rationalization hamster room to run, generating a store of energized drama that all women need to imbue their romances with more expectation and more thrill than their mere earthly existence can afford.

What is the vanishing point of infinite ambiguity? A stone-faced expression? Radio silence? No, those are messages that, by their absence, hint of negative thoughts. True ambiguity must leave the recipient in a state of confusion, helplessly flailing as she sifts for hidden meaning in the paltry sum of white noise. One manifestation of event horizon ambiguity that can plausibly invoke that feeling of pure female joy when confronted by opaque romantic intention is something reader walawala writes about:

Very timely post and I would like to share 2 things. First a new game text I adapted and have used with interesting results. Let’s call this “The power of ‘…'”

this: … three periods. It’s now my go-to response for girls who I want to alert that their behavior is not on, that I’m expecting a response, or that I want to trial text them but have nothing to say. This … gets the hamster going.

Background, girl I’m gaming, and have maintained a clear sexual vibe with has her hamster in over-drive. We went out a few weeks ago, good time major make out, then a flake. But I didn’t get upset, just kept a positive vibe.

Here’s our text exchange from last night and “the power of …”

her: I wanna be up front. I am looking for someone ready to settle down..i u just want some fun.. we shud just be friends.

Me: …

Her: I am being ridiculous. Yesterday I met my friends for dinner..bf of one of them joined us. they just started…I think I am jealous. I also wanna bring someone special to join the dinner but no one to bring.

A few learnings:

one, note how I maintain my frame and while I don’t really know what to say I use “…” and get this huge hamster barf. I may set up drinks later. she’s up for something.

Secondly, if you’ve been following my other story, my ex gf who’s fairly hot has been chasing me since she broke up with me rather cruelly 2 weeks ago. I also maintained my frame. No beta butt-hurt crap, no lashing out, just “ok”…and ignore her.

She deleted my on FB yesterday. I considered ignoring it. Then I considered confronting her. Both are bad moves. But at the same time dead silence is kind of lame. She has tried to reach out in her angry girl butt-hurt way.

So I shot off a text late last night: …

This was my way of sending an ambiguous message to get hamster spinning knowing full well the deletion was aimed at pissing me off.

Ok, two things to consider there for you guys: girl who wants a guy to piss off her friends and ex gf crying out for attention and getting “…”

In both cases “…” is the common game tool that is more ambiguous than “gay”.

“gay” is a vitamin-enriched hamster pellet. It does the job by giving her hamster some get up and go. But there is room for it to be misconstrued by women in a way that is unfavorable to your goals.

“8===>” is a steroid injection for her hamster. It more than does the job; her hamster will hip-check Kia’s as it races toward the Golden Spinning Wheel.

But “…”, now that’s something else. A proprietary blend of genetically modified superfoods, ECA stack, endurance boosting EPO, bovine growth hormone, concentrated Red Bull (illegal in all countries except China), yak penis, distilled beet sugar, bioavailable uranium with a half life of 36,000 years, and 100% pure Colombian snow that will make her hamster spin so fast the earth’s orbit will slow and time will go backwards. A hamster eight balling on one of these “…”s is on record as spinning up the mental equivalent of a ferris wheel and racing through tubes ten miles long before sputtering out in exhaustion.

Better to disorient a woman with an intriguing ellipsis, than to blab like a beta and ruin her fun.

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