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Archive for the ‘Self-aggrandizement’ Category

Reader Corsair astutely notes that the “outdoors work” options for urban men are severely limited, and this means urban men have fewer avenues for displaying that crucial masculinity which is universally attractive to normal, healthy women.

Re: Heartiste’s comment about swinging a splitter vs. cleaning a shitter –

An interesting implication of the correlations described in this study is the impact of opportunities for men to engage in masculine displays. I have observed that in crowded cities like L.A. and NYC (to name just two of many), where land is scarce, where rent is high, and where a good proportion of married couples with or without kids live cheek-to-jowl in high-density neighborhoods of apartment buildings, the daily living situation for men does not lend itself to running the man script.

If you’re living in a city, you’re very likely not hunting game animals for food or sport. If you’re living in an apartment, you’re likely not using power tools for repairs and maintenance, because the building management takes care of that for you (if you let them). Also if living in an apartment, good luck doing any serious woodworking or automotive work (yes, it can be done, but it’s a pain in the ass – personal experience here). If you have no lawn to mow, no garden to plow (heh), no lumber to split, no horses to shoe, no deer to dress, your opportunities for showing your masculine side are constrained.

In this sense, cities, and especially apartment buildings, are de-masculinizing, while country living is masculinizing. I have experienced both. I have often wondered, given this distribution of MDO (masculine display opportunity) along the city-country spectrum, whether a reproductive regulatory mechanism arises as a result. I.e., country-living men get more sex, have more children as a result. Here where I find myself these days, any such reproductive regulatory effect is overwhelmed by the competing forces of over-education and religion: Less-religious (as a whole), mostly White Master’s Degrees holders have 0-2 kids, while more religious, mostly-Hispanic high school/G.E.D. types have 4-5 kids. But I’d bet that if you control for race and religiosity, you’d see greater fecundity in areas of the country where a man has room to swing a splitter. As those areas tend to be more red-state leaning, that may give some hope to those of us who’d like to see the constituency of the Hivemind wither and die off over time.

What does this mean for the sex-desiring man who finds himself living in a crowded apartment building? Obviously learning how to spit some Game will help, but I’d suggest buttressing your cool stories and Cube routines with some Man Stuff. BE SEEN doing the following: Drive a truck with an in-bed toolbox. Volunteer with Habitat for Humanity and use a circular saw and hammer. Get a motorcycle and learn to take apart and rebuild the engine, then do this on the front sidewalk of your apartment building. Or park your truck on the street and do maintenance work on it at the hour when the career girls are getting home from their HR jobs (or near a coffee shop or popular brunch spot on weekends). Buy a rifle, learn how strip it down and clean it (be seen doing this your wife or girlfriend –> hotter sex, more often) (hat tip to … maybe SouthernMan ? Read that particular tip here at CH several years ago). Learn how to quarter a whole chicken and barbecue it; makes a great cheap date at your place or hers. If she doesn’t faint at the sight of you ripping the backbone out of a chicken, TINGLES.

Some of this is a regurgitation of ol’ Zombie Shane’s “get thee to a Red state” talking points, but inverted – I say bring the Red state to where *you* are. It works for me; it can work for you to, especially if you’re surrounded by manboob libtards and fake tatooed Bros who don’t know a spark plug from a butt plug.

Bring the red state to the blue city. Great advice, Corsair.

Cities are inherently de-masculinizing. And never more so, because cities have become soft degree employment agencies for yuppie chicks in yoga pants, who now make more on average than their urban male counterparts. How does the crimson-pilled urban man regain some leverage in this emasculated dating ecology?

All of Corsair’s suggestions are good, and most are workable. (Some ideas, like truck ownership, are not feasible in many densely populated SWPL dandy districts. Motorcycles are a better choice.) Not only are all these masculine chores and hobbies appealing to women observing the man performing them, but the habits of this kind of work will create a feedback loop that will straighten a man’s spine, boost his T, harden his erection, puff his chest, engage his hunter instinct, and enlarge the aura of his confidence.

Tell me, men, for those of you push papers as well as fix cars, which activity makes you feel more manly? Rhetorical. About the closest approximation to traditional man-work that the office cubicle environment can offer by way of masculinity display is being at the top of a corporate hierarchy, bossing around underlings. Power is also inherently manly, and we see this via proxy by how lustfully women respond to powerful men.

Other ideas for fighting the estrogenic tug of city living:

– Rent a warehouse space in an “edgy” part of town and crank up your guitar amp. Lots of sexually loose hipster girls live in these inexpensive areas, and they will melt for a shredder.

– Get a dog. A big dog. You know how fear and gina tingles complement each other so well.

– You don’t have a phone, you have a hunting knife. Strap it to your belt. (Consult local ordinances first.)

– Store a few photos on your phone of you knee-deep in deer guts and camo gear. (Ok, you still have a phone.)

– You want curious stares from smartly coiffed robowomen? Take a day to stroll around the gentrified boutiques in heavy work boots and dirty jeans caked with earth.

– Wifebeaters are your best bud. Don’t wear them ironically. Masculine men aren’t ironic, they’re sincere.

– Stop being a pudgeball, hit the iron. Sorry fatsos, but squeezable manboobs have become the signature asexuality cue of the beaten-down white collar white beta male. Good news! There’s a ripped mammoth hunter hiding underneath your Charmin bod; he’ll wake up quick once you give him a little air to breathe.

– Communal (communist) gardens are all the rage in SWPLvilles. I think this fad is driven partly by soft liberal men who feel a twinge of shame for their rootless (heh) effeminacy, and getting their hands into soil helps them feel less like a eunuch. But, communal gardens are also lesbian havens, and plots are tiny. If you have a square foot of private land, grow something cool for yourself, like giant squash.

– It’s the ne plus ultra of granola liberalism, but using your apartment building’s roof to raise small farm animals is panty-wetting if you aren’t doing it to “save the earth”. You just like raising your own meat and eggs. Crack the chicken’s neck in front of a girl, for an additional two hours of mind-blowing orgasms later.

– Become a handyman. You don’t need to know much; a little knowledge in the parched wasteland of useless SWPLs crying like babies when a light bulb goes out will reap amazing side benefits. As your reputation circles the condo halls, watch in amazement when cute neighbor girls are constantly stopping by for a helping hand.

– Don’t parrot urban leftoid boilerplate that masks itself as polite conversation. You may as well punch yourself in the dick until it collapses into a vagina.

***

You don’t have to do much to leap over your competition. American blue cities are non-breeding conglomerates of the weakest, feeblest, most effeminate, doughboy whyte men you will see anywhere in the world. Even through their hipster doofus beards. If you can change your car’s oil, you’ll have demonstrated more manly moxie than 90% of the liberal SWPL men around you. If anything, you should be careful of overkill. Maybe save that splitter for weekends at the farm instead of carrying it over your shoulder to the cuffed skinny jean coffee shop. “You wanna split the check? Yeah, let’s split the check. WHACK!!”

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If you observe women without rose-colored glasses tinting your impression or a shiny pedestal obstructing your view, you’ll easily notice patterns in their behavior that abjectly defy their spoken intent. Sometimes, not often though, women will admit in moments of candor the true shape of their desire that they otherwise spend inordinate energy and time concealing under layers of obfuscation and guile. Russian women, bless their cynical souls, have a habit of divulging the secrets of the da!da! sisterhood. One of these pre-babushkas, an avowed golddigger, confessed to the yearning she and other women have for men who are “walls of stone”. Dominant men.

“There are three types of men,” she tells her students. “The creatives. The analysts. We’re not interested in those. The ones we want are ‘the possessors’,” and she repeats the tell-all, prison-intimating phrase, “a man behind whom you feel like behind a wall of stone. We all know how to spot them. The strong, silent men. They wear dark suits. They have deep voices. They mean what they say. These men are interested in control. They don’t want a forceful woman. They have enough of that already. They want a girl who’ll be a pretty flower.”

The alpha male. Every woman wants one, few will nab one. Supplies are limited. Most women, average in looks, will spend a lifetime with men they don’t fantasize about seducing.

Oliona came to Moscow with next to nothing when she was twenty and started as a stripper at one of the casinos, Golden Girls. She danced well, which is how she met her sugar daddy. Now she earns the basic Moscow mistress rate: the apartment, $4,000 a month, a car, and a weeklong holiday in Turkey or Egypt twice a year.

The rewards are good for women born with a fortuitous commingling of DNA.

Oliona’s playing fields are a constellation of clubs and restaurants designed almost exclusively for the purpose of sponsors looking for girls and girls looking for sponsors. The guys are known as “Forbeses” (as in Forbes rich list); the girls as “tiolki,” cattle. It’s a buyer’s market: there are dozens, no, hundreds, of “cattle” for every “Forbes.”

The line between soft and hard polygamy blurs in totally liberated sexual markets. Thanks to female hypergamy, the choosiest sex isn’t women; it’s alpha men. Bring in the cows.

“So many eighteen-year-old girls,” says Oliona, “breathing down my neck.” She’s only twenty-two, but that’s already near the end of a Moscow mistress’s career. “I know I’ll have to start lowering my standards soon,” she tells me, amused rather than appalled.

Glasnost.

 “Today we will learn the algorithm for receiving presents,” the instructor tells her students. “When you desire a present from a man, place yourself at his left, irrational, emotional side. His right is his rational side: you stand to his right if you’re discussing business projects. But if you desire a present, position yourself by his left. If he is sitting in a chair crouch down, so he feels taller, like you’re a child. Squeeze your vaginal muscles. Yes, your vaginal muscles. This will make your pupils dilate, making you more attractive. When he says something, nod; this nodding will induce him to agree with you. And finally, when you ask for your car, your dress, whatever it is you want, stroke his hand. Gently. Now repeat: Look! Nod! Stroke!”

Game for women is essentially methods for maximizing the allure of their beauty and their child-like vulnerability.

(“They think they’ve won something when they get a dress out of us,” one millionaire acquaintance tells me when I tell him about the lessons at the academy. “I let them win sometimes. But come on: What could they ever, ever take from us we didn’t actually let them?” “You know what my word for them is?,” asks another. “I call them gulls, like sea-gulls, circling over garbage dumps. And they sound like gulls, you know, when they sit and gossip in a bar together. Kar-Kar! Kar-Kar! Gulls! Funny: isn’t it?”)

The men sitting in the drivers’ seats know how to play this game too. If you’re a billionaire, gifting a hot piece of ass with a $4K/mo apartment is chump change in exchange for sexually spoiling her prime fertility years and dumping her when her four-year expiration date has been reached. (Female product expiration dates tend to arrive much sooner for men with more market options.) In gambling, this golddigger strategy is what is known as a sucker’s bet.

“Russian men are completely spoilt for choice; Western men are much easier,” she says earnestly, like one carrying out market research. “But the problem with westerners is they don’t buy you presents, never pay for dinner. My German guy will need some work.”

If you’re an American dating an ex-pat Russian girl, don’t buy her stuff. Sure, she’ll lash out occasionally at your stinginess, but she’ll keep coming back for that one roll stuffed in your pocket that really matters. In other words, ACT like a man spoilt for choice.

“He’s handsome as a God,” Oliona tells me, whispering with excitement. “He was giving out hundred dollar bills to girls for blow jobs. Kept going all night. Imagine his stamina! And those poor girls, they don’t just do it for the money you know; every one of them thinks he’ll remember them, that they’re special, so they try extra hard. Of course I refused when he offered: I’m not like THEM… Now we’re seeing each other. Wish me luck!”

Super alphas get a train of blowjobs in da club for pennies on the ruble. The women, naturally, deceive themselves that they’ll be the ones to “convert” the alpha into relationship material, aka sponsorship.

The one thing Oliona will never, ever think of herself as is a prostitute. There’s a clear distinction: prostitutes have to have sex with whomever a pimp tells them to. She does her own hunting.

You have to admire a whore’s honesty about the nature of the deal.

‘Do I really have to go home with him?’ I asked my boss. ‘Yes.’ I went back to his hotel. When he wasn’t looking I slipped some Ruffinol in his drink and ran off.”

Russia is in an anti-feminist alternate universe.

Finally, the shiv that twists guts in the platitudepuses:

“But what about love?” I ask Oliona. It’s late; we’re taping an interview in her apartment. We’re drinking sticky, sweet Prosecco. Her favorite. The nervous little dog snores by the couch.

“My first boyfriend. Back home in Donbas. That was love. He was a local authority.”

Authority is a nice word for gangster.

Chick meets jerk. Chick falls in love. Real love. Fin.

Oliona’s relationship with the Pushkin-loving Forbes didn’t last long. “I thought at first he wanted a bitch. So I played that role. Now I’m not sure, maybe he doesn’t want a bitch. Maybe he wants a nice girl. You know, sometimes I get confused, I can’t even tell which one I am, the nice girl or the bitch.”

Women will bend over backwards to appease an alpha male exactly like beta males will do to appease a cute girl. The difference is that women prostrate themselves for a shot at a relationship, and betas for a shot at sex.

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Kate writes a primer on histrionic personality disorder,

We had post about this on our blog. There is an actual term for what CH calls AWS and it is called Histrionic Personality Disorder.

It occurs at estimates of 1-4% in the general population.

And women are 4 times more likely to have it than men, One female psychiatrist said, “Society doesn’t tolerate this behavior in men like it does in women.”

And it is estimated that over 15% of those in treatment can be diagnosed with HPD.

So this means given women are 50% of the population then it can occur at something like 4%-16% in women and that up to 30% of women in treatment have some form of HPD. [ed: is this math right?] The women may be being treated for depression or another mood disorder, but often these are the result of the life choices and actions that the women take due to HPD. Depression is caused by repeated failures and constant fight or flight situations. These women tend to place themselves in more “Flight” situations than other people.

And the typical woman that has HPD is typically in the low 5 to low 7 SMV range. A more attractive woman needs not generate attention and the less attractive woman finds that nobody actually gives a crap when she does attempt to generate attention as a coping mechanism.

There is a very long list of symptoms but the two key symptoms are “impressionistic thinking” and “everything is a crisis”, often manufactured or caused by the HPD woman.

Impressionistic thinking is characterized by “feelings”, and a lack of quantification, a lack of actual data. So in the cause of this “harassment”, it is a “feeling” that men are overly harassing them and that this is a “crisis” that someone need to deal with.

One other key is that the HPD woman goes on the attack when challenged or the attention seeking behavior doesn’t result in the desired attention or response. Her responses can quite vicious.

I’ve known women like this. At turns charming and nasty creatures. Learn to identify them quickly and move on.

Our article actually used the woman in the linked CH article that had filmed her abortion. The entire film had her and her face in the center of the frame and the stills that accompanied the article often looked like selfie shots with her making eyes and smiling at the camera. Even in the beginning of the video, when she is driving to the clinic, the camera is on the dash, focused on her face. And the other examples in the article all had the same effect, the woman raising the issue had the image of the woman at the center point of the piece and not the issue itself. I think another example was some woman who had gotten fat after having two kids, some former bodybuilding competitor, itself a form of attention whoring, and the theme was how she was suffering now she was a pig in such a horrible thin-centric world. The stills released with her articles were of her naked in some sort of pose where her “ladyparts” were not shown to the camera.

So it could be questioned that any woman that releases videos or posts like this might be a woman that could be diagnosed with some form of HPD. And further, it could be proposed that a good number of female feminist bloggers have HPD, given the prevalence of it among women, and any activity in a public forum would tend to attract more women from the attention seeking side of the spectrum. So basically we could question if the whole internet feminist movement has been hijacked by women that could be clinically diagnosed as mentally ill.

-Mark

So basically we could question if the whole internet feminist movement has been hijacked by women that could be clinically diagnosed as mentally ill.

Heh heh heh.

Questions:

Is HPD on the rise? I bet attention whoring tech is causing the condition to explode in prevalence (or at least to explode in perceived prevalence).

Why does it afflict women more than men? AW/HPD is like “social butterfly syndrome” on steroids. Kind of reminds me of Williams Syndrome, which is a genetic disease that cause the sufferer to become highly sociable, emotional, and naive. The opposite of autism. (Williams victims also have very low IQs. HPDers share Williams traits but without the depressed IQ hit.)

Can HPDers ever be “fixed”? I doubt it. Getting old and invisible to men is about the best remedy there is.

***

Commenter blogster adds an anecdote of AW/HPD in the field,

I have seen this at my local cafe near where I work. Nice, leafy upmarket neighbourhood filled with consulting firms, boutiques, cafes, creative industry types etc. Filled to the brim with pandering beta types. Two guys make the coffee, another cooks meals and the one chick on every shift? Her job is to flatter the betas and get the validation of attention whoring.

She was a very leftist, cute(ish), but opinionated feminist type. her approach was dramatic gesticulation, tonal changes, using her loudish voice to be all dramatic and stuff. Seeing what was happening, I deliberately ignored her and only offered minimal acknowledgement and talked to the two guys, as they were interesting and had something real to say. One day she realises I don’t know her name and she is crushed. There was visible disappointment in her eyes because I had not acknowledged and played into her frame of awesome awesomeness. There was mock shock and pouting for not knowing her name. I started to say, “we’ll may be you should introduce yourself like most adults” and she quickly changed the subject to my coffee order.

From then on she works overtime to engage me, start conversations etc. It was quite hilarious and I gave her the distracted and brief attention of someone in the middle of something more interesting and would turn back to talk to the guys. And each time, she would try to insert herself in the middle. Pathetic.

So in short, chick offers nothing but dramatic phony interaction and expects acknowledgement. It would be like me just standing there and expecting her to blow me just for existing. But that’s how women think.

The tragic part is when women continue thinking like this long past the age they can plausibly get away with it.

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A viral load of white female privilege dropped in the patriarchy’s lap this week. It’s a video produced by a racist white puppeteer featuring a racist white woman, Shoshana Roberts, (OK, maybe she’s a “convenience white” woman), walking through some vibrant and culturally nonconforming New York City neighborhoods for ten hours recording the reactions of the underprivileged men around her.

Wow. Just…. wow. I can’t even…. I can’t watch any more of this video. I feel physically ill from the othering. FCKH8!

The racist subtext is obvious. Some cisgendered white woman with a rap sheet of unchecked privilege and internalized racism claims to speak for all goddesshood, and trawls through Harlem like she’s on some safari, baiting the heterodusky into othersexual, courtship-positive mating displays. What does she expect, imposing herself on their colorful and enriching gape culture, blaming the victims for her socially constructed alabastercentrism? This is nothing less than minority shaming. And with her mile-wide ass she should know better.

There’s clearly a superstructure of anti-indigeneity in her feminist pose. Colonialist oppression is not far from her dismissive gestures. This woman wants to fight against Hollaback discourse, but all she really is doing is promoting Collablack sexual politics. She wants to collar all the blacks and Ricans who don’t accept her barely caucasian hegemony to decide rules of intergender solicitation.

Well I ain’t no collablack girl, and to this racist white woman pretending to be a real feminist I say, “Don’t impose your values on under-served, differently amorous communities. Not every catcall needs your affirmative consent if it doesn’t come from a rich, white man with good manners.”

Or maybe Shoshana Roberts and her racist white moneygrubbing masters would like to explain the reactions of her white sisters to this man? Should he just accept their creepy, threatening harassment, or should there be laws against this kind of female objectification of the male body (part)?

ps hi jezebel!

pps videotaped reactions (or indifference, as the case may be) from men on Wall Street and the Upper East Side were, for some odd reason, left on the cutting room floor. rumor has it shoshana made out with a few men who glanced her way.

ppps heh.

UPDATES

– As reader CAPSLOCK HUSTLA suggested, the anger of white women toward catcalling stems mostly from the fact that a lot of catcallers are low value men who think the girl is on their level. No woman, especially not a striver 6 like Shoshana, likes the feeling that losers think they have a chance with her. It makes her second-guess the power of her looks to intimidate lesser men (or attract better men).

– It’s no coincidence that most anti-catcalling feminist indignation comes from white chicks. Although META ANALYSIS and PEER REVIEWED STUDIES have yet to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, I suspect that non-white women, as equal inheritors of their race’s genes, respond more positively to catcalling men and also know how to handle those men (e.g., by refraining from showing vulnerability that could be misconstrued as sexual interest).

– I noticed over at the comments at iSteve that there still exist ignoramuses who think crude low class catcalling of the sort filmed in the video is the “game” taught by aristocads like yours truly. They’re ignoramuses, or they’re disingenuous liars. Yelling streetways at a woman to “smile more” and asking her post-rebuff “Am I too ugly for you?” is pretty much the opposite of game.

– Diversity + Proximity = A gauntlet of crass, 24/7 catcalling. White women will get misty-eyed for those long-ago days when a white man would walk up and say hi.

– Catcalling, if you couldn’t already tell, is mostly a non-asian minority thing. Only Mediterranean whites like Italians come close to expressing the… unsolicited robust amour… of blacks and guapos. And even then, the Italians in America catcall with a stylishness far removed from the ghetto version. It’s so rare for white men that I can’t honestly remember the last time I saw one catcall like those loping suitors in the video. And I’ve lived in a number of vibrant communities. I could set up a GoPro with Minka Kelly in Peoria, IL and go ten years without a single catcall caught on tape.

– I’m not completely without sympathy for women having to put up on the daily with nonstop catcalling that borders on creepy. The closest analogy for a man would be having to tolerate homeless bums begging for handouts every block. That would get annoying after a while. Of course, the answer is to avoid walking in areas where bums congregate. Or to have a grand ol time telling them NOPE with a sadistic grin.

– It’s as natural for vibrants to catcall as it is for white women to dislike it. The solution is to minimize the amount of proximate diversity. Hello, is anyone listening…?

– Shoshana, like her kin Lena Dunham, is a Ditz Class attention whore. She hates catcallers but loves reminding the world of her DD tits. Hypocritical attention whores like these two broads are a blight on civilization. The internet has certainly enabled their craft, but larger societal paradigm shifts away from patriarchal oppression and toward total female sexual freedom are to blame.

– Allegedly, Shoshana FatAssa is dating a bankster. I wonder how her street stooges feel about being set up by an entitled bitch?

– Here’s a funny, if less than biting, parody video. “Pumpkin spice season son!”

– Although they may feel threatened or uncomfortable in the moment, deep down most white (and white-ish) women are turned on a little by the feral male attention. It’s that dualistic female arousal mechanism at work again.

– Ultimately, the problem with stupid, bitter feminists and their lackeys is their inability to understand, let alone empathize, with how differently from women that men are aroused to desire. Once you have convinced yourself that there are no real biological or sociosexual differences between men and women, it’s a small step from there to bemoaning catcalling while your tits are thrust three feet in front of you. This is what a religious adherence to feminist lies gets you: Fear and loathing of men because they get turned on by visual stimulus with an intensity that is alien to your gynocentric worldview.

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The sexual market is not unlike the stock market; information bottlenecks are exploited by insiders for fun and profit. One such bottleneck is the value of white American men in foreign sexual markets. Because a man’s SMV is more contextual than a woman’s SMV, and because men’s romantic attractiveness is dependent upon multiple variables, including non-physical ones such as social status and charisma, it can be expected that a man will have different value to women in different parts of the world. Where his value is relatively highest is where he has the best chance of making sweet love to beautiful women.

MindFucked (priceless handle) performed an experiment to determine his value to the Unpolluted (non-American women).

Want hard evidence on your SMV in different countries around the world? Want to see what women in different countries REALLY look like and practice text game with them? Want to become even more disgusted with American women? Maybe you’re making a trip in a couple weeks and want to prep the field so you have willing sex partners as soon as you arrive.

Download a smartphone emulator. Bluestacks is my favorite. When you’re running it, go to the app store and download Tinder (the smartphone dating app) and a fake GPS application which will allow you to trick Tinder into thinking you’re anywhere in the world.

Put up a few photos of yourself, start swiping right, and wait for the results to pour in.

If you’re a white man, try doing this in Asia. It’s truly hilarious. China blocks Tinder so it doesn’t work there, but it works in every other Asian country.

While I can neither confirm nor deny if I’ve been to Moscow, reports from fellow world travelers give credence to the rumors: There is so much pulchritudinous street-strutting there that an American man unused to it will have his heart melt and crotch explode. And yet, vanishingly few American men trek to this magical Vaghalla. Why?

If this GPS-spoofing Tinder trick to gauge overseas female interest is revealing a huge pent-up demand for white American men in Eurasia, and the quality on offer in those faraway lands puts to shame America’s snotty, classless chubsters, then why aren’t more men moving to where the ass is leaner? Homo economicus is baffled.

Human nature is a tricky dick. Simple inertia explains a lot of inefficiencies in the sexual market. Most people prefer to envy good fortune from their couches than to move to where good fortune is within reach. Self-doubt explains more. American men might not believe they have a shot with beautiful foreign women because they are negatively conditioned by their effortful experiences with uninspiring American shrikes. They lack imagination.

Then, too, there is an innate desire, to greater or lesser intensity in each person, for a connection to blood and soil and kin. Our American women might be fat, entitled and unfeminine, but goddammit they’re *our* women.

Finally, we shouldn’t neglect the possibility that there are inherited ethnic dispositions towards one’s own representative women. Some white American men won’t find Asian girls, even the universally attractive ones who adhere to the golden ratio, very desirable. Russian girls, despite their legendary beauty, do tend to sport distinctive jutting chins, chiclet teeth, and broad faces that may not appeal to non-Russian whites.

I believe the reasons above, plus travel costs and unawareness of better options, account for most of the sexual market inefficiency in pairing up valuable white American men with pretty foreign girls who want them. For those waiting for the lid to blow off this underserved market, you’ll be waiting a long time.

Expat Americans like Roosh catch a lot of flack from envious haters, who smear his motives as those of a “sex tourist” who must “go overseas to score desperate peasant pussy”. But, what Roosh has done is what entrepreneurs throughout American history have done: Read the teat leaves, smartly calculate what’s in his best interest, take a huge risk, and create new markets that redound to his broadest (heh) advantage. How many American men have the cohones to uproot themselves and plant a flag in a strange land for a shot at a brighter life? It’s something white Europeans used to do all the time, and were proud of it.

The hate felt toward guys like Roosh is percolating envy, but it’s also something else: People hate reminders of their cowardice. Cowardice, perhaps, is the fundamental motivation that permits the continuance of this particular sexual market inefficiency.

The upscale demand is there, White American Man. Will you fill it?

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A particular paradox of the sexual market is one that works in the favor of men. More precisely, men with balls. It’s what I call the “Prime Pussy Paradox”.

Reader Scott explains,

I’m 48 years old, overweight, and out of practice after being married for 20 years. But I’ve still never understood the fear of approaching women. In my younger days, I dated roommates at the same time, a Playboy model, and regularly bagged ladies in the 8-10 range.

Now I have a 24 year old son. I told him when he was a teenager, that the easiest way to get a hot chick to go out with you is to simply ask. Since most guys are too wimpy to approach a 9 or 10, it is actually the girls in the 6-8 range that get hit on the most. In reality, 10′s get hit on less, and are easier to pick up than the less attractive girls in the 6-8 range.

That is the honest truth – believe it or not.

I believe it, because I’ve experienced the same. As have many of my player buddies. That sexy 8 will give you a warmer smile and more feminine charm than that ego-inflated 6 with a chip on her shoulder who’s had to deflect the horny intrusions of a hundred middling beta males who thought that 6 would be easy pickings.

The Prime Pussy Paradox states that the very hottest girls – high 8s, 9s and 10s — get hit on less frequently and by fewer men than do women in the “pump&dumpable” or “cute” range from 4 to 7s, and that this male approach skew psychologically grooms the hotter girls to be more excited when a man does boldly hit on them. The essence of the PPP is that hot girls are often MORE APPROACHABLE than cute or, god forbid, plain girls.

Why is the PPP a valid concept? The intersection of a woman’s self-esteem (modulated by her intrinsic hotness and the male attention she expects to get based on her self-perceived hotness) and a man’s sexually entitled boldness is where love explodes. A handy graph visualizes the phenomenon.

PPP

The black line represents a hot woman with unmodified self-esteem; that is, self-esteem which exists in a sexual market with perfect mate information flow where she gets exactly the amount of attention that her looks should theoretically command.

Naturally, such a world doesn’t exist, because men don’t make a decision to approach based entirely on a woman’s looks. Men also internally calculate their risk of rejection and their own courtship savviness. Which is where the red and green lines fit in. A woman with immoderately high self-esteem (green line) — i.e., a woman who thinks more of her mate value than her looks inform — will be a tough rut to shellac. A man would need to be very bold (and skilled) to hurdle the huge cockblock that is her bloated self-esteem.

A woman with immoderately low self-esteem (red line) — i.e., a woman who thinks less of her mate value that her hotness would conceivably suggest — will be an easier target than presumed, and who won’t require preternatural reserves of boldness to seduce. These women are a dying breed in America, (bloated self-esteems, along with bloated bodies, are the growing female demographic), but they do exist, and happily enough, they exist in surprisingly disproportionate number among the very hottest women whom men imagine are the least likely to have lower-than-expected sexual-esteems.

Like an information bottleneck in the stock market, the PPP is a sexual market vulnerability which can be exploited by fearless men with insider connections. 9s and 10s (and most 8s) don’t get conspicuously hit on as much as 4s, 5s, 6s, and 7s. Consequently, hot girls tend to harbor stirrings of doubt about their SMV. Their egos (and love lives) hunger for proof of validation, and they gorge on the rare direct attentions of bold men who aren’t afraid of or humbled by their beauty.

There are limits to the PPP exploit. Very low SMV men won’t be able to capitalize on it with the same profitability as moderate SMV men. The sweet spot is a man one to three SMV points lower than the hot girl, and who acts with the prerogative of a man with equal (sex-adjusted) SMV to the hot girl. Male 6s and 7s (as ranked along male-specific measurements of attractiveness) who approach with the bold intention of a male 9 can “shock” a female 9 into aroused curiosity.

Now some of you are wondering, “Don’t hot girls get a lot of leers from admiring men?” Sure, but female self-esteem operates as a more complex feedback system than male self-esteem. A female 9 will receive ten times the number of head snaps from men than will a female 7 (it’s exponential), but she’ll also receive ten times FEWER the number of intentional approaches from men than will the female 7. Women register the glances from afar, but the bold approach is so unmistakable in intention that it counts for more as a self-esteem boosting factor.

Hot women, experiencing a relative paucity of men hitting on them compared to that experienced by mediocre-looking women, tend as a result to carry less ego-stroked baggage. They are more grateful, and more interested, when a man dares to pierce their bubble of hotness. To approach such a beauty as she, why this man must truly be worth her company!

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Is confidence an outcome of validating external factors, or is it an internal mindset that creates its own validation?

The feedback loops of male confidence are copious and fluid, so the question is the wrong one. External validation and internal beliefs synchronize to lift or deflate a man’s perception of self-worth. But it’s the nature of constitutional pessimists and unimaginative nerds to overrate objectively measurable variables that contribute to a man’s mate value and undervalue the invisible psychology that imbues a man with serious muff-massacring mojo. If you’re looking for proof of concept, I have a simple real life test.

How many naturals (with women) do you know, and have known for years, who physically or economically deteriorated with age? Most of us know one or two guys like that… high school romeos who packed a gut and a dead-end job by their late 20s. The guys I know like that continued doing well with women, despite losing their high school glam. They never stopped smashing grade A ass even as their more transparently conspicuous player traits abandoned them.

And you know why? Because they had the attitude. Their confidence that they could get women when they wanted never left them. True to their charming selves, their pudginess or crap jobs or studio apartments presented no obstacle to their mesmerizing game. Confidence — which is really a synonym for an abundance mentality — is like this; once you have it drilled into your subconscious, it’s hard to get rid of it.

Inner game matters. Confidence is transmissible over years and through different life stations. It can be cultivated with many fertilizers, and harvest time always means, “There’s enough clam to feast like a king. I will never go hungry.” How crucial is confidence? If you have no belief in yourself, a six pack or a year-end bonus aren’t going to transform you into a lady slayer. But if you think yourself god’s gift to women, and truly believe that should the need arise you can easily find fresh pussy, then a submerging six pack or a missed promotion at work won’t put a dent in your game.

Of course, the quickest way to achieve Voltaire level confidence is by amassing years of experience bedding women. But what to do if you’re new to the only game that matters? You strive for that elusive abundance mentality. Make approaches. You won’t convert every approach into a lay (not even close) but you will get some smiles and other positive reactions. These reactions will accumulate and reinforce your growing belief that women are plentiful and it wouldn’t take much effort to push at least a few of them into lascivious contemplation.

Another trick to crush limiting beliefs is a daily reminder that, whatever sexual market advantage women have got, you have a sexual marketplace window of viability that triples that of most women’s. When you’re feeling self-doubt, there’s nothing quite like the brisk pick-me-up of waking up a man with decades of romantic opportunity ahead of him.

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