How To Remain Unflustered By Female Beauty

X. Ignore her beauty

The man who trains his mind to subdue the reward centers of his brain when reflecting upon a beautiful female face will magically transform his interactions with women. His apprehension and self-consciousness will melt away, paving the path for more honest and self-possessed interactions with the objects of his desire. This is one reason why the greatest lotharios drown in more love than they can handle — through positive experiences with so many beautiful women they lose their awe of beauty and, in turn, their powerlessness under its spell. It will help you acquire the right frame of mind to stop using the words hot, cute, gorgeous, or beautiful to describe girls who turn you on. Instead, say to yourself “she’s interesting” or “she might be worth getting to know”. Never compliment a girl on her looks, especially not a girl you aren’t fucking. Turn off that part of your brain that wants to put them on pedestals. Further advanced training to reach this state of unawed Zen transcendence is to sleep with many MANY attractive women (try to avoid sleeping with a lot of ugly women if you don’t want to regress). Soon, a Jedi lover you will be.

The above is from the Sixteen Commandments of Poon. Readers have asked, not unreasonably, “Hey, I get it, being unperturbed by a woman’s beauty is rock solid inner game, but how am I supposed to do that?”

Good question! Unfortunately, the best answer is one that won’t help you when you need the help most. Only the accumulation of repeated beddings of beautiful women is guaranteed to instill in a man unflappable poise when in their company. Sexual experience with beautiful women strips them of their mystery and tempers their power to transfix.

This is not to say you will lose the ability to appreciate female beauty; only that a pretty face won’t be able to stupefy you into bumbling betaness anymore.

Fine, now how do you assume the right emotional state when you don’t yet have a wealth of experience handling beauties? As mentioned in the quoted passage above, refraining from the knee-jerk beta male reflex to loudly, or silently, declare this or that women to be hot, smokin’ hot, or fuckin’ insanely hot, start thinking and speaking of women in more subdued, less penilely loaded, terms; e.g., interesting, unique, endearingly comical.

This simple change of perception will help you immensely. You should even go out of your way to chide your beta buddies whenever they start yawping about some or another chick’s hotness. “Dude, chill on the compliments. She’s ok, nothing more.”

There is another technique that I have put to good use in helping me overlook a woman’s beauty. Whenever I’m approaching or talking to a hot babe, I reproduce this image in my head:

I remind myself that every woman has a penis head, aka cervix, pointing outwardly in her vagina to greet my own penis upon arrival. This visualization of hot women as storehouses for bulbous penis heads, by reducing them to their component biological parts, renders their beauty less fantastical, even a little silly. Imagine that cervical penis waiting to meet, glans-a-glans, your penis head in a romantic French kiss. A sword fight in the arena of her vagina.

I assure you, that if you plant this image in your head, you’ll never again be stunned into catatonia by a hot chick.

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Abandoning Friends Who Know You As You Were

A male reader asks:

First off i would like to say thanks to you, for such an amazing blog, and such an amazing information resource. I’m a 22 yo virgin beta, but thanks to your website i decided to change.. Over the last 4 months i lost 49 pounds, so im getting the physical aspect of myself fixed. But there’s a issue i would want help on….is that im a complete total beta, and i’ve been struggling to assert myself as a “almost-alpha” or look alpha-ish. I have a very small circle of friends, mostly job friends, and my beta self is already settled with them. I wonder if the problem is me not acting like a real alpha would, or if i should look to new girls and stuff.

Loyalty to friends should not be reneged carelessly. Loyalty is, for good or ill, one of the more prominent virtues that delineates the world of men from the world of women. As a sex, women simply don’t place as much value on loyalty, so as a man you had better have a good reason for discarding it.

One of those good reasons is when friends, by dint of their familiarity with you, their own stations in life, and their expectations of your behavior, stifle your development into alpha manhood. If a bunch of job friends, man or woman, know you only as The Beta, then you’ll find it difficult to complete your transformation to a better man while in their company. Their assumptions will hold you back, their inflexibility will hamper acceptance of your new self-image, their envy will sabotage your efforts.

If your friends are betas, your progression to alphatude will be seen as a threat to group cohesion. If your friends are alphas, their instinctual hierarchical dominance displays will undermine your progress (and this need not be intentional). Being immersed in the dynamics of your social circle for so long, you will find it harder to jettison your beta baggage.

In such a circumstance where you are actively reformulating your very essence and character to be more desirable to women and persuasive with men, you are well-advised to sever attachments to friends and girls acquainted with your sad sack prior self. Their mere presence, and the beta memories you have accumulated while sharing their company, will act as ballast on your old skin, pinning you down as you try to shed it. Don’t underestimate the power of unappealing memories and the ability of friends to anchor those memories in the physical world.

To complete your journey to the alpha side, you will likely have to turn your back on the beta alliance. This means a necessary distancing from old friends, and a search for new friends who only know you as you are now, and whose conditioned expectations will thus naturally align with your goals, reinforcing your improvement.

The caveat to the above should be when your friends understand your purpose, and help you to achieve it. But a friend like that is rarer than most think. A true friend, lifting you up every step of the way, is a gift not to be squandered.

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Caring Vs Uncaring Assholery

A reader ponders:

First off I’d like to say you’re really doing the world a public service. I came across your blog by googling ” how to spot a slut,” (trying to figure out if my girlfriend at the time was…she met your criteria and she was a huge slut). Anyhow in one of your much earlier posts you point out that there are two types of assholes. The uncaring and caring. The latter coming from a place of hate and insulting women and not really forming any sort of attraction. That is where I am right now how would i make the shift into the uncaring asshole category?

Think about the most inconsiderate person you know. Then, act like him. That’s how you make the shift.

If you don’t know anyone like that, then you’ll have to make the shift by adjusting your inner game, which means forcing yourself by sheer strength of will to become less outcome-dependent. Uncaring assholes are truly the masters of outcome-independence. They hardly feel a twinge to their egos when any one girl falls through as a prospect. That attitude is catnip to women.

The reader is referring to this old post which dissected the difference between assholes that women love and assholes that women suspect are really spiteful betas in alpha clothing. Quoting:

There are genuine assholes who are loved, and there are spiteful assholes who get nowhere. The difference is crucial.

Uncaring asshole = success with women.

Caring asshole = failure with women.

When women say they don’t fall for assholes, they are thinking of the second kind. A caring asshole comes from a place of bitterness and spite. His assholery is reactive rather than proactive. He is poor at calibrating which women will be responsive to his dick attitude. Caring assholes are crassly insulting and transparently invested in the outcome of their game.

Uncaring assholes are assholes as a consequence of their indifference. It is the aloofness of the man she loves that drives women crazy with obsession*, and that aloofness is manifest as asshole behavior. An uncaring asshole demonstrates clearly in his body language and tone of voice, not to mention his dearth of words, that he could take her or leave her.

A good rule of thumb to detmerine if you are leaning more toward the caring side of assholery:

Do you feel emotionally invested in the reaction you’re trying to get from girls you want to have sex with? When you asshole it up, does your blood pressure rise? Does anger festoon your words? Do you imagine vengeance, hoping to land a solid metaphorical blow to a girl’s ego?

If so, you are trying too hard. Your caring asshole behavior, while better than acting like a sheepish beta if pickup is your goal, will more often than not turn a potential lay away.

I’m not saying there’s never a time for anger. There is. There is a time for red hot passion and white hot rage. But your operational mode should be one of… say it with me… AMUSED MASTERY. Cool-as-fuckness. Imperturbability.

Nor am I saying you should be inconsiderate all the time. If an LTR is your goal, you can’t expect to be inconsiderate with your girlfriend or wife and not eventually string her out so badly that she jettisons you to fill the emotional void in her needy, feminine soul. Many a movie plotline has centered on the ignored wife of a distant alpha husband and the emotionally available sneaky fucker who ingratiates himself to her for the damning tryst.

Within the context of an LTR, consideration should be seasoned with inconsiderate aloofness, like a sprinkle of pepper on a nourishing bowl of soup. That is the zen way of poon.

But when dating and seeking the hookup, (to lead possibly to deepening love), aloof and sometimes even callous disregard will intrigue far more hot and high value women than not. And this is especially true for women living in the salad days of their fertility.

You have to recite the following as part of a self-motivational technique for imbuing yourself with the right (i.e., sexy) attitude:

I must not obsess. Obsession is the mind-killer. Obsession is the little-death that brings total betaness. I will face my obsession. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when my obsession is gone I will turn and face its path, and only my alpha self will remain.

Once you can confidently proclaim that oneitis no longer stalks you like a leech on your masculinity, that there will never again be “that one girl” you must have, that no girl’s inconsequential caprice can rattle your self-possession, and that you have let go of your spite and your anxiety, will you have arrived in a place that permits the blooming of uncaring assholery. And the parting of labial petals.

Few men achieve this level of state control, and with good reason: it’s hard. Great beauty can disturb the stillest mind. But try you must. You’ll have to bear the torment of self-awareness to make your attempt count, but it beats the alternative of sleepwalking through life in ignorant betatude.

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When A Shit Test Isn’t A Shit Test

Not every insult (veiled or blatant), punchy challenge, or arch criticism by a woman is a shit test as the term is commonly understood — a subconsciously guided female examination of a man’s grace under pressure that helps her assess his alphaness. There are other reasons a woman might be critical of a man she is dating or evaluating as a suitor.

I have observed that there are two alternate explanations for bitchy behavior that men will encounter most often in the course of their love lives.

1. She is genuinely repulsed by a man’s betaness.

When a girl is sincerely and uncompromisingly put off by cloying or socially clumsy beta male behavior, she will sometimes be unable to stifle the disgust she feels and her animus will come spilling out in icy cold body language, nagging, scolding and nit-picking. This is predominantly the behavior of the bitch in betrothed bondage to the beta male, who has grown tired, or become unsettlingly aware, of her hubby’s unsexy weakness. The beta husband who finds his time with his wife increasingly characterized by seemingly irrational wifely outbursts of anger, incessant nagging about inconsequential misdemeanors, passive-aggressive sex withdrawal and assorted glib jabs and cruel mannerisms that show a disrespect for his presumed status and masculine prerogative, is experiencing the foul ministrations of a woman in thrall to her slow boil of hate for male enfeeblement. This phenomenon is easily substitutable for men and women in unmarried long-term relationships.

Men, beware. This is no shit test. It is your most immediate warning sign that your lover is about to leave you, or, worse, cheat on you. She has no interest in sussing out your manliness; she is only a fist of rage semi-incoherntly lashing out at you for making her feel unfeminine. Treating her behavior like an extended shit test may actually backfire if you haven’t prepped her for your transformation to a man willing to display his balls.

Note that this supremely bitchy behavior may occasionally manifest early in the courtship dance, usually by women with low impulse control and looks in the 4-7 range; the kind of women who get hit on a lot by “creepy” men thinking they have a chance, and who have reached their tolerance threshold for such brazen men. If flecks of spittle fly as she castigates you, or she is simultaneously backing away while hurling her insults at your face, or her entire body curls up into a phantom turtle shell at the mere exposure of her personal space to your entreaties, you are likely dealing with sincere loathing and not a shit test to be aced for further sexual exploration.

2. She is afraid of losing her man.

A girl who adores her boyfriend will, at times, and especially during those moments when his appeal to competitor women is most discernible, act in ways that strike normal, logical men as strange. Instead of anointing with flattery and devotionals, the anxious woman with commitment extraction on her mind may respond with what she perceives as self-esteem lowering cuts to some or another flaw of her boyfriend’s.

The flaws she highlights will almost always be of a physical nature, or a treatise on his style. “You’re getting pudgy.” “I never noticed before how gross your toes are.” “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.” “You’re too pale.” “You walk funny.” “That shirt makes you look like a doofus.”

Charming, eh? Ah, but she will hardly be able to announce these flaws with the expected contempt; often her critique will be leavened with a revealing brightness in the eyes and sensuously accessible body language. An experienced man will rapidly know her bitchiness comes from a place of insecurity about her standing with him. He will know, as true as the sun rises in the east, that women simply don’t put very much emphasis on a man’s looks in comparison to the other attractiveness traits that women desire in men. And that this truism goes double for a woman in love, for whom her man’s looks are a paltry secondary consideration to his wit, leadership, humor, kindness, cockiness, thoughtfulness, edginess and sexual prowess. And so her criticisms of his physical state or fashion sense will trickle harmlessly off his ego like water off a duck’s back, understood as they are as the bleatings of a desperate lover engaged in a mini power play.

The woman chooses the physical and the stylistic for her barbs because she is projecting her very real female horror at coming up short in these two areas critical to her own SMV onto her man, for whom she mistakenly believes pokes at his physical attributes will have the same effect on him as it would on her; namely, the effect of luring him more deeply into an approval-seeking mode of thought and, thus, a stronger commitment from him that she much desires. This type of subversive badinage is actually a form of bonding for the woman. Unlike insults directed at a man’s status for which there is no turning back, the nature of petty jabs at his looks or his choice of clothes brings a woman closer to her man; she is complicit in his reformulation to something “better”, i.e. domesticated.

Men, be gladdened. If you hear your girlfriend or wife criticizing you in this manner, you are confirmed to be sitting pretty in the driver’s seat of the relationship. You have hand. She wants what only you have to give: increased commitment. And she wants it as badly as you wanted her sex when the two of you started dating.

You may play it off like a shit test, replying in knowing condescension or, even funnier, feigned concern. E.g., “Yes, I really ought to get right on that fixing my troll toes. I’ll schedule an amputation tomorrow.” But be warned: the nature of this type of criticism is not usually that of the shit test. She is not interested in deducing your alphaness; she already knows about that, and anyhow her jabs are of a different nature when it is playful shit testing that motivates her.

No, she wants to hurt you just a little bit — to make you just insecure enough, really, to inspire you to ingratiate yourself to her needs without turning you away completely or unintentionally pushing you to desperate, servile betatude — and pointed, spiteful criticism of your physical flaws (that she thinks ought to matter to her, and to you, but really don’t) is how she gets at you. She knows you’re confident to volley her verbal airstrikes. If you begin hearing a lot of this sort of criticism from her, it means flirty parrying is not what she seeks; she wants your ultimate capitulation.

…every kiss begins with three months’ salary

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Are Ugly Women Necessary As Stepping Stones?

Alert: Intrapickup squabble!

Is it true that an aspiring womanizer — or even a typical man in a billowy button-down who wants to improve his love life — must pay his dues with ugly women before he can achieve the goal of banging hotter women? The question hints at a significant fault line in current pickup thinking, precisely because it throws into stark relief the ego-shattering human impulse to judge men based on the quality of women they pull.

I’ll paraphrase a reader’s objections, who asked not to be directly quoted:

Roosh’s idea that you have to bang a lot of unattractive women to get hotter women is not persuasive. What helps is getting laid regularly, which doesn’t necessarily require cutting your teeth on ugly chicks. You only need one woman to get laid regularly, so such a strategy obviates the need to fill up your notch post with lots of uglies and plain janes. Ideally, your “regular lay” should be in the 6 to 8 range, but if you’re a newbie you may have to start with 4s and 5s. Picking up large numbers of less attractive women may give you experience with logistics and help with honing your routines, but that is the relatively easy part of game. Getting laid regularly, even if it’s with one woman, is all a man needs to step up to the next higher beauty class.

My opinion on this matter falls somewhere between Roosh’s and the anonymous reader’s takes. Roosh is entirely correct to note that men who use the “I have standards” excuse are, more often than not, men who aren’t living up to their professed high standards. It’s similar in spirit to the internet nerd sour grapes syndrome, in which hot chicks that are unavailable to them are deemed unworthy of their loving nerd attention because of some ridiculously trivial flaw, like pointy elbows.

Roosh is also onto something when he advocates for having flexible standards. If 8s and above are all you will deign to approach, then there are going to be times and places when and where you will endure some long, tough dry spells, and this is especially true if you are an average guy with average game and above average horniness. Unless you have rock solid inner game and unshakeable confidence that enables you to weather extended down times without losing your pickup magic or your aura of charismatic fuckability, those dry spells will hurt your interactions with women. Like dogs can smell fear, women can smell celibacy.

The reader suggests that the ideal route for men to take to avoid sexless purgatory while keeping the ladder-climbing option open is to gun for the decent-looking regular lay. This allows a man to avoid the dispiritment that accompanies fucking too many uglies while also sparing him the stink of celibacy that erodes confidence and spooks hot chicks.

And that’s where I part company with Roosh and favor the life strategy of the anonymous reader. Fucking uglies, in even small quantities and in temporary bouts, risks flirting with depression and slumping into a long-term rut. I don’t come by this view speculatively. I have some real world trials by trolls from which to evangelize. I’ll give you an example I’m thinking of from years ago:

I had spent a few weeks fucking a 5. It was only four bang sessions, but that was enough to alter my self-perception and mood. I had gone through a bad breakup and she (the 5) presented herself, fortuitously, almost immediately after the final severance from my ex. She was friendly and sweet, and open to meeting someone. I gamed her but hardly needed more than my first wave artillery; she melted quickly. She had a good body, so despite her plain face the sex was good. But I couldn’t help notice it was not as good as   sex with hotter women.

Just at the point I was getting the full measure of my single man’s confidence back, the 5 conveniently left town, rescuing me from the awkwardness of a messy dumping I knew had to be done. However, upon leaving, the sexless rut began to reappear. Two weeks went by with no acceptable nibbles on my penile line. A buddy who was a wingman at the time suggested I meet up with a girl he had failed with himself as a sort of friendship offering in difficult times.

“You’ll really like this girl. She’s totally your type. A solid 8. Very hot, blonde.”

“Oh yeah? If she’s so hot, why aren’t you working on her?”

“I did. I got nowhere, but it’s OK, I prefer brunettes. We hang out together. She makes me look good when we go out.”

“So you want me to meet her? Hmm.”

“Yes, you’ll thank me.”

We met, all four of us — me, the “hot blonde 8”, my friend, and his current girlfriend — late at night under cover of a dark lounge. I didn’t know where my friend’s head was, but she was no 8. Yes, she had blonde hair, but that was about where the confirmation of my friend’s powers of observation ended. From what I could glean through the dim club light and my alcoholic haze, she was no better than a 6, and maybe even a 5.

Nevertheless, I was horny, and feeling down. I could use the pickmeup pickherup. We trundled outside, into a cab, and I took her back to my pad. Inside my place, lights at full blast, I was sorely disappointed to realize my friend’s “solid 8” was a weak 4. I had never fucked a 4 before, and never would again.

Too late to reverse course, and bored into conspiracy, I lamely escorted her into my bed, and quickly swung her into the doggy-style position where exposure to her face would be limited. Her body wasn’t half-bad, but not good enough to compensate; my dick went limp inside her vagina. I imagine that has to be a girl’s worst nightmare; up front rejection in the form of a backturn or a wandering eye is bad enough, but getting rejected in the most softeningly obvious way possible when you are literally giving it everything you’ve got, your womanhood deeply committed… well, that’s gotta sting.

I couldn’t be bothered to make excuses. She dressed and left in silence. My blue mood hardened. I cursed my friend’s taste in women. I took a shower to wash off the dirt that had alighted upon my soul.

Two women, one borderline ugly and the other plain as unsyruped pancakes, in a row and I was done with the idea of it. Their company, however genial and accommodating, did nothing to lift my spirits or gird my confidence. Just the opposite, in fact: I fell deeper into self-flagellation.

One week after the limp-out incident, I hit up a local lounge and met an 8.5 whom I would spend the next five months fucking in gloriously hedonistic abandon. I have yet to share my bed since then with a woman lower than a 6.5. I learned my lesson.

I’m as horny a guy as you’ll find, but I have to admit not so horny that I’ll start rummaging through the 3 and 4 kitchen trash if there’s no four star restaurant available. Maybe that’s a problem of getting laid too regularly — you lose that wall-climbing horniness that would compel you to stick it in the most convenient wet hole. Ugly girls as stepping stones to hotter women sounds good in theory, but in reality sex with them too often — and too often can happen a lot faster than most men realize — is not only a time and energy suck, but a depressive drug that corrodes self-confidence.

Perhaps this feeling — this sex dynamic — varies by race, age and baseline dignity. If so, more power to the guys who don’t mind dumping fucks in seacows and butterfaces. I can’t bring myself to do it, even if it’s all the local talent has to offer. My minimum threshold in women’s looks is 6, under which it becomes almost physiologically impossible for me to complete the bang.

My inner game is strong enough now that I can afford to risk a month or two downtime without getting too rusty or too doubtful of my skills. I would only use an ugly girl who fell below my minimum looks threshold as a stepping stone in the most dire of circumstances, such as if my dry spell extends beyond two months, or I’ve taken to, ahem, “mood enhancers” that give me 24 hour wood.

So you might say that the reader’s strategy is the way to go if you are a high risk for lengthy dry spells, and your game and self-possession aren’t strong enough to carry you through a slump slumming it with ugly chicks. Alternatively, Roosh’s strategy — to skip the “regular lay” girlfriends and just focus on getting laid even if the talent available is not up to snuff — is better if you can’t tolerate any kind of dry spell, if your dick is indiscriminate, and if your game is good enough that regular pickup with little downtime is within the realm of possibility.

TL;DR Don’t make a habit of banging ugly chicks. It can be as bad for your self-confidence as involuntary celibacy.

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The Handsome Man-Ugly Woman Couple Syndrome

I was participating in a mobile conference which included question and answer periods, and I noticed an odd couple standing to my side. He was youngish and good-looking — most women would agree on his physical attractiveness — and his wife was a snout-nosed, inbred-looking, stringy-haired, big fat pig dressed in sweatshirt and ill-fitting jeans. In other words, the typical American woman. I assumed they were married because I saw their rings and she had her hand on a stroller with an infant tucked away in it.

What abomination is this! I thought. But then the reason became crystal clear after only a few moments watching and listening to them interact.

Speaker: Any questions?

Big Fat Pig: [nudging her hubby with her elbow] Honey, remember…

Handsome Husbandry: [tentatively raising his index and middle finger, and haltingly talking] I have a question… I have a…

Speaker: Yes?

Handsome Husbandry: [his question-asking hand lingering in mid-air, other hand stuffed in pocket] What did [X] bring to the event that caused [Y] to happen? It seems like.. it seems as if…

As he asked his question, he kept looking over at his wife — in fact, staring at his wife more than the speaker, although he was ostensibly addressing the speaker. One would be forgiven for having the impression that he was seeking constant real-time assurance from his wife that his question was acceptable for public discourse. Nervously shifting from one foot to the other, leaning into his wife, gazing downward when the speaker responded to him, his body language was so beta it was painful to watch. No, it was repulsive to behold, almost as repulsive as the visual effrontery of his wife’s blubbery carcass.

The wife, meanwhile, assumed the posture and countenance of the alpha male. (Never trust a power vacuum to be left unfilled by man or woman.) She looked straight ahead when her husband was simultaneously asking his question of the group leader and craning his neck to her for approval, and she never once softened her expression into a sympathetic, let alone loving, smile at him. (Some men go through life never knowing the exquisite pleasure of a woman’s appreciative gaze of admiration.) There was no unspoken, feminine job well done crease of the eyes on her porcine face. Just stone cold indifference, spiced with a hint of contempt.

Yep, like I said… CRYSTAL CLEAR.

It’s illuminating to compare our reactions to different mismatched couples. Think about what you say to yourself when you see the following pairings (remember that you have nothing to go on except what they look like):

Handsome man with beautiful woman

All is right in the world. You infer the man has alpha characteristics to complement his good looks, and he has cashed that in for a hot babe. You would be surprised, were you to talk to him, if he wasn’t charming and a bit arrogant. You do not doubt the woman’s judgment.

Ugly man with ugly woman

All is right, if depressing, in the world. You infer the ugly man has beta or even omega characteristics, and that an ugly woman was the best he could do. You assume the ugly woman resents him for having to settle, but knows she has no other options. Love between them is less about passion than it is about task delegation and avoidance of suicidal loneliness.

Ugly man with beautiful woman

Wow, he is shooting out of his league! But then, thinking on it a bit, you recall that you saw quite a few couples like this mismatched pair during the week. It’s less rare than popularly imagined. You may ask yourself “What does she see in him?”, and from that you infer the ugly man has compensating alpha attributes to snag such a hottie — maybe he’s wealthy, or slick, or funny, or a dominating asshole, or some combination of each. You assume this ugly man has options to be able to choose a beauty for a girlfriend.

Handsome man with ugly woman

Whoa, what is he thinking?! An uncommon sight, (occurrence less frequent than its polar opposite), you presume the handsome man has some debilitating personality flaw — maybe social awkwardness, or shyness, or micropenis — that prevents him from fornicating with his true potential. Unlike the mirror image couple of the ugly man with the beautiful woman, you do not give the ugly woman the benefit of the doubt in assessing why she was able to catch a handsome man. You simply conclude, reasonably, that the handsome man is not the alpha male on the inside that he looks like on the outside, and therefore the ugly woman is not really dating out of her league. There must be something wrong with him, you think.

***

The last mismatched pairing is the subject of this post because it so powerfully illustrates a fundamental tenet of game: a man’s looks are of limited utility as a measure of his alphaness and, hence, his attractiveness to women.

When we see couples out and about we usually resort to sizing them up based on immediately discernible criteria like looks and style. This judgmental shorthand works well on women for whom looks are their most salient sexual currency, but shows its limitations as a method of discerning a man’s dating market value, as exemplified by the couple in the story above.

This is why most people have a tendency to assume the best about ugly men who pair up with beautiful women, and assume the worst about handsome men with ugly women. There is an instinctive, deeply primitive understanding chugging away behind the prefrontal cortex in every one of us that women sexually respond to a suite of male attractiveness traits, of which looks are only one desirable male quality. It is therefore not inconceivable to most non-brainwashed observers that an ugly man might have other characteristics that appeal to a beautiful woman on his arms, or that a handsome man might be crippled with weakness and self-doubt that constrains his ability to attract no better than a big fat pigwoman.

Contrast that instant appraisal we all have of the men in mismatched pairings with how we think about the women in such relationships. A beautiful woman with an ugly man does not have beta characteristics; she is simply drawn to other attractive attributes in him which we are not as privy to as his looks. (E.g., He must be a rich/famous/funny/charming dude!) An ugly woman with a handsome man does not have positive compensating alpha female attributes; she is simply settling for a beta who happens to look good. (E.g., What’s wrong with him?)

In the mismatched couple I witnessed, it was clear that whatever good will or tokens of desire that the handsome man had inspired in his pigwoman were completely squandered by his beta behavior. It was easy to see by her loathsome demeanor that his looks no longer held — if they ever did beyond the first couple of dates — any sway over her feelings for him. But being the big fat pigwoman she is, she knew she could not do better.

And that is why the generational increase in human beauty is a slow, painstaking process, punctuated by tragic reversals to a sloping brow norm (see: Appalachia, Detroit). Handsome betas are polluting the gene pool with pigwoman blood.

Maxim #59: We tend to defer to looks as a judgment of a man’s sexual market value because that is what is most easily observable given situational and time constraints, but a man’s looks are only one male attractiveness trait among many that account for his desirability to women.

Corollary to Maxim #59: A woman’s sexual market value is more accurately judged solely by instant appraisal of her looks.

The next time you see a handsome man with an ugly woman, before you scratch your head in confusion remind yourself that you are not seeing the whole picture. A beta male’s soul is not always judged by his cover.

Then parade your hot girlfriend in front of him and his pigwoman. Hopefully, it will ignite a spark of manly fortitude, and his sack will grow three sizes that day.

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Pre-Sex Offers That Sound Too Good To Be True

A reader who wishes to remain anonymous asked:

I met a 8.5 girl online (physically I’m a 6.5).  She’s extremely aloof, ignores half my texts.  Likely never LTR material. We’ve made out, nothing more.  Her interest waxes and wanes.  She planned a trip to Central America without me, leaving very soon, casually invited me.  I’ve never really traveled abroad.  I’m fast-tracking my passport and scuba certification.  I offered a nice hotel, she insisted on hostels to “meet people.”  I don’t want to feel like a novice or tag-along.  How do I prepare fast so that I can lead, demonstrate value, enjoy the trip, and build heat between us?

Short Answer: Don’t go.

This reminds me of a similar story I once heard from a friend. He, too, had sorta, kinda hooked up with a hot chick, except he did it in person while on vacation. They shared a make-out, but nothing more. After returning home to their respective countries, she invited him to visit her in her hometown. He opened his wallet, boarded a plane, took a cab from the airport to her place, crashed on her couch, and came back home two weeks later angry, bitter and pissed about ever having gone. She hadn’t put out at all. He wasted money and vacation time on illusory pussy.

He thought by taking her up on her offer of a two week vacation in her backyard she was basically offering sexy funtime. A sensible conclusion for any man to draw, but unfortunately girls are anything but sensible creatures. Unless you are the Don Juan of game, any “innocent” meeting (in her mind) that hints at a contrived pretext for sex will put a woman on guard. Not to mention, a man totally betas himself by going out of his way to spend money and fly to meet a woman on her turf in the tacit expectation of sex.

For these reasons I suggest you don’t bother going if banging her is your primary goal. She will smell that and make the path to her pussy arduous and labyrinthine indeed. Your trip will be miserable, as a result. If, on the other hand, you can honestly tell yourself that banging her would just be a welcome complement to a trip in which your primary focus is scuba diving and hitting on chicks in hostels, then by all means take her up on her offer as a TRAVEL COMPANION. But beware the danger in assuming she will be anything more than a platonic tour buddy.

Now if you had already had sex with her multiple times, I’d advise the opposite: clearly she was smitten by your bedroom prowess and offered the trip to monopolize more of your lovin’.

As for the travel preparedness details, don’t worry so much about that. Attitude is key. Go with a devil-may-care air of whimsy and enjoy your time in a foreign land with someone who will buy you tropical drinks. If you’re worried about seeming like a tag-along, make sure you have reservations to do some things on your own. Read up on the place, so you aren’t stuck in a situation where she’s telling you about all the good restaurants, clubs and beaches. If you have to leave her behind once in a while to do something you like but she doesn’t, do it. You have to act like this is as much your vacation as it is hers.

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