A Father’s Question

First, thank you for the excellent blog.

The writing, content, and resulting purposeful applications are first rate.  You attract much insightful, interesting, and humorous content, too.  Please keep up the good work.

On to my question:  so, I am a dad and wondering, with Father’s Day 2011 just around the corner, your thoughts on how, when, and at what rate should matters of game be introduced to your male offspring?

I did read this:

https://heartiste.wordpress.com/2011/03/29/why-game-is-important-for-fathers/

It made my heart ache.

My son and I frequently go about town alone.  Dining together.  Talking to the people around us.  Looking them in the eye at all times.  Assessing strangers at other tables and trying to read them based upon what we observe.  He and I scored girls in the mall a few weeks back.  He is only 10.  I’m not going to rush him into things, but want to give him the tools and tactics to use when he is ready.  I don’t have a great playbook for rearing him, but I do want him to lead his life and not the other way around.  Any feedback and thoughts would be appreciated.

How, when, and at what rate to introduce game to your son? A few classic Chateau thoughts on the matter are here.

To my son:  You will learn how to say Hi to girls before the age of 16 if it kills you.  There will be no Star Trek or Lord of the Rings posters in your room.  You will instead have Helmut Newton photographs hanging on your walls and a copy of Mystery Method.  I will treat the family dog better than you if you major in anything that doesn’t ensure a salary high enough to keep you from grubbing off me.  Learn how to throw a punch.  If you turn out gay, don’t ever bring your “boyfriend” around me.  Certain things are best left in the realm of the abstract.

Finally…

if I find out your mother was a two-timing whore and you are not my kid, you will never hear from me again.  Kindly direct all your rage her way.

I’m glad to see you’re taking your son out and showing him the ropes. As a father, you have no more important duty than guiding your son on the path of alphadom. What greater gift can a father give his son than the knowledge and example he needs to navigate the initially confusing world of women, and to live as a free man in an increasingly corporatized, feminized, Orwellian world?

You want to introduce game concepts to your son now, as he’s hitting his teenage years. Your first forays into this dark knowledge should be couched in terms a kid can relate to, i.e., lay off the sex talk and arid evo psych theories. Tell him that girls are different from boys and that this will matter as he gets older and starts to like them.

In your specific case, it seems as if your son is maturing early, if he’s “scoring” girls at age 10. He probably knows the basics at this point? If that’s so, then you can go to the next stage, where you analyze specific female behaviors and make them relevant to him. For instance, he might complain about a girl who only likes him when he’s mean to her, and he doesn’t understand why. You can then segue into a discussion about why girls like that sort of attitude from boys, and how he can have that attitude but still grow up to be a good man.

Note: Do not ever fall back on the typical beta herb father response of “Well, son, women are a mystery. You’ll find that out soon enough.” That’s the cheap and easy way out, and prepares him for nothing. Patiently explain WHY women are the way they are, that women aren’t really mysterious at all, it just seems that way because they think differently than men. Remind him, too, that men seem mysterious to women, so the confusion goes both ways. The whole “mystery” cop-out is just another form of female pedestalization.

As he’s becoming more aware of true female nature, there is a risk his young mind and heart will slip into cynicism and disgust for girls. Don’t let that happen. Remind him that, though the world works this way, there is no reason to let it get him down. There are some rules to follow, but the game itself is still a lot of fun, and nothing feels better than falling in love with a girl who loves you back. (Abstain from discussions of “love” until he’s well into his teens. A 10 year old is likely to turn up his nose at that.)

As his mind matures (age 16 or so), begin introducing him to the literature and science that scaffolds game concepts. You can start with this blog and these resources. If he’s anything like a normal heterosexual man, his eyes will widen with wonder when he first reads this forbidden knowledge. This is a critical juncture. If you have not laid the groundwork, a sudden infusion of game material can send him careening through a labyrinth of haphazard self-discovery, his journey littered with dangerous risks and broken hearts. You must start his reality education NOW if you want him to put the future knowledge to good use. An unanchored padawan is a light saber duel away from joining the Sith.

The rate he should learn this stuff will largely be up to him. Once the floodgates open, he’ll likely seek out further knowledge on his own, without your guidance. The internet guarantees that the window for active parental guidance is smaller now than it has ever been. That’s why you must begin your teachings before he gets to high school.

As a responsible father the setbacks you most want your son to avoid are:

Oneitis.
LJBF.
Surprise dumpings.
Grinding celibacy.
Divorce.
Marriage to an ugly feminist.

Give him the knowledge and tools to circumvent those unhappy fates and the wisdom of your experience and you will be a hero to him for life.

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May 21st Is National Pimp Walk Day

The gay men and fat ugly goths sluts are out in force and want the safe, cocooned and civilized world to know that they should bear no responsibility for their own well-being at all.

An international series of protests known as SlutWalks, sparked by a Toronto police officer’s flippant comment that women should avoid dressing like “sluts” to avoid being raped or victimized, is taking root in the United States. […]

“It was taking the blame off the rapist and on the victim,” said Nicole Sullivan, 21, a student at the University of Massachusetts-Boston and an organizer of the SlutWalk planned Saturday in that city. “So we are using these efforts to reclaim the word ‘slut.'”

In addition to Boston, marches are planned in cities including Seattle, Chicago, Philadelphia, Reno, Nevada, and Austin, Texas.

“The event is in protest of a culture that we think is too permissive when it comes to rape and sexual assault,” said Siobhan Connors, 20, of Lynn, Massachusetts, another Boston organizer. “It’s to bring awareness to the shame and degradation women still face for expressing their sexuality … essentially for behaving in a healthy and sexual way.”

There’s nothing like a good, old-fashioned reclamation project. Of course, such a project is tacitly admitting that the thing you are reclaiming is a dung heap.

I find that you can know a lot about why people profess to believe what they do by looking at them.

Maybe they should rename it the Moob Walk?

These are very ugly, gender inspecific people who are loving the opportunity to express their sexuality free from the rejection they typically get everywhere that isn’t headlined a slut walk. It’s a “Hey, look at me! I’m a sexual being, too, underneath this fifty pounds of blubber and black eyeliner. Rapists are bad BAD people who want to ravish me in my skimpy muffin top support jeans. Oh god, I came.”

I’ve previously ripped this idiotic slut walk argument to shreds, so there’s no need to repeat that here. Instead, let’s hoist a shimmering bejeweled cane in honor of the mischievous rascals who are party crashing these slut walks with their own version called the Pimp Walk.

The Boston SlutWalk group has had to delete several “inappropriate comments” about women and faced criticism from a group that promised to organize a counter “Pimp Walk” in Boston, Connors said.

“We think it was put there as a joke, but it’s disturbing that a number of young people still feel that way,” said Connors, referring to sexist comments left on the page.

Pages dedicated to other cities’ SlutWalks also deleted inappropriate comments.

Well done, lads. But why stop at Facebook postings? Let’s make it official.

The Chateau hereby announces May 21st, the year of our Lord 2011, National Pimp Walk Day.

Spread (heh) the word. Link this blog post to as many internet outlets as you can find, from Yahoo to Jizzabel. Let’s get these hairy, heavy balls rolling. Remind the ladies what they really need and crave… a swaggering pimp not putting up with her shit.

Let’s show these wannabe whores the end of the rainbow… with a strong pimp hand. On May 21st, dress like a pimp and strut like your giant balls are pushing your legs apart. Go to work with a cane and gaudy hat. Peacock a bit. Be the subversive pimp daddy your harem demands of you. Stick a fat middle finger in the bloated faces of feminists and human resources departments everywhere. Show the good liberal world what a real man thinks of them.

The Pimp Walk mascot:

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Why Game Is Important For Fathers

A reader emailed a heartbreaking story to the Chateau. I reprint it here in the full because there is so much in it that could serve as lessons in life, alphaness and fatherhood. As you read it, prepare to cringe. Do you see a little of yourself in the father? In the son?

******

I really don’t know who else i could write to about this.

Today i was out for lunch with my dad. Sushi, as it was. My father isn’t the most assertive man, I’ve come to realize. but when this half-baked early 20’s asian in skater jeans and ray ban corrective glasses doesn’t bring us our food until we ask about it a half hour later, and still gets it wrong, and then continues to delay most of our food we have to leave before we get to eat the half of it. I was ready to get in the face of the woman at the register, but i thought it was my dad’s place to do so, since he was buying and he is my father. but he bumbled up to the counter,

“um, excuse me, our food was late and we didn’t get to eat it all…” He trailed off. The woman behind the counter looks up with her eyes glazed over, and gives him the bill.

“no, no, i don’t know if i should pay full price…”

she points to the bill which says (10% off -2.59)
BEFORE tax.

so he paid the 30 dollar bill with his two dollars off. i was thoroughly embarrassed. but it was worse. as i’m trying to ignore him, hoping he makes a bigger stand, he touched his hand to my face. it took me a second to realize that this was a playful slap.

“what was that?”
i knew what it was. he had such repressed aggression that he needed to let it out through momentary displays of dominance over his 18-year-old son.

“i just hit you.” he said in a goofy snorting voice, looking at the ground. still in front of the cashier. this was all to win the approval of a 5-foot asian woman in a tank top because he couldn’t stand up to her.

and then there’s my mom, the opposite. imposing, commanding, domineering, unbelievable condescending. she’s a executive director of a research facility. she actually says the only way to get along with her is to say you understand what she’s saying and leave it alone. of course, she can’t see that that’s batshit crazy.

They’re divorced of course.

The issue is, I’m their child. They’re both too deep in their own delusions to even notice that they’re destroying me. and so are my friends. I feel like I’m getting sucked into it. im submitting to my mom, when i used to make her laugh when she was trying to tell me what i’ve done wrong. I finished high school, with no motivation to continue my education. i spend most of my free time in front of a computer. I work a shitty job that I can’t even focus at. I haven’t had sex in months. when i’m at a party i’m more self conscious than i’ve ever been in my life. I can’t hold a conversation like i used to.

my friends suck,
AND I CAN’T STAND THE GIRLS I MEET
I’ve had sex with girls i don’t actually like, and it’s boring as hell.

I’m losing my wit, i’m losing my figure, im losing my ability to be extroverted, i’m losing my will to live.

how do i stay afloat? why should i stay afloat?
A sea of bullshit smells just as bad when you’re on the top of it.

how can i stop this death spiral when there’s nothing i want to hold onto?

I’m hoping for words of wisdom, but putting my long-winded whining in its proper place could be just as helpful.

******

Brutally bare. You’ve just had an insider’s look at the sordid details of a beta father’s life, and the wake of destruction such betaness leaves on the psyches of those around him — his son, his ex-wife and himself, not to mention the automatic disrespect it engenders in strangers. If you are a man and this story doesn’t reach out and punch you in the sternum, you have no life experience and no heart. A better advertisement for learning game to overcome beta weakness I can’t imagine.

Betaness isn’t some grand scheme or bodily disorder. Betaness manifests in the little things, like a father’s inability to square up to a waitress for bad service or his repressed anger played out in subtle dominance moves over his son. When we speak of game being a lethal tool to lift a man up from betaness, we mean it is the little things that game fixes. Forgetting this leads one to easily scoff at game as some kind of magic elixir or cult hypnosis. But focus on the tiny details, fix them one by one, and suddenly a new man appears before you, almost like magic.

If you are a father and you don’t approve of game as a means to pick up women, at least recognize its transformative power to improve your relations with your wife and children, particularly any sons you may have. Your son looks up to you as a leader and a masculine icon, almost despite yourself. When you renege on that implicit promise, he becomes disoriented, even self-loathing. If you are divorced, your son’s time with his cunty domineering single mother will only worsen his state of mind. As the country veers into a dystopia of single momhood and lonely, sackless beta divorcees, expect to see more sons with stories like the one told above. Nothing good can come of it.

Knowing this, learning game is practically a vital imperative. Maybe you can live with yourself as a sniveling little beta shit who can’t chew out — or at least neg — a young asian chick who deserves it because you get all flustered in her presence, but can you live with the pain and embarrassment it causes your son?

Readers generally fall into two camps with regards to the ability of the typical man to understand and apply game. Some believe attractiveness to women is a genetic bestowal, while others believe game, i.e. charisma, can be learned by any man. The answer is somewhere in the gray middle. Yes, some men are born with an incipient natural charm and others are born with the requisite intelligence to parse game concepts, and these men will excel at learning game far beyond what an omega will get from it. Yet there are thousands, maybe millions by this point, of men who have seen improvements in their love lives and their family lives accrue from the blessings of game. These men did not start out with Class A genetic endowments. Their very existence proves that sheer willpower — the will to mold their environments, and themselves, to their advantage — can mean the difference between being the father in this young man’s story and being a better man his son would be proud to call dad.

Stories like the above show that betaness is not solely, or even primarily, a genetic curse. A father’s actions have real repercussions on his son’s trajectory in life. The father in the story acted horribly beta and his son was aware of it. His low status behavior left a lasting imprint on his son’s soul, and as a result the son’s self-conception has been altered, and now careens down a darker path, into deep thickets and waist-high bogs bubbling with doubt and anger. This is one way in which generational betaness is passed on, from father to son.

Imagine a different scenario had played out. A GAME scenario.

Today i was out for lunch with my dad. Sushi, as it was. My father is a serene man with a well of righteous dignity, I’ve come to realize. when this half-baked early 20’s asian in skater jeans and ray ban corrective glasses doesn’t bring us our food until my dad asks if there’s a kitchen fire holding up our order, and still gets it wrong, and then continues to delay most of our food we have to leave before we get to eat the half of it. I was ready to get in the face of the woman at the register, but i thought it was my dad’s place to do so, since he was buying and he is my father. He strode up to the counter, chin high and chest out:

“I won’t be paying this bill today. Our food was late and we didn’t get to eat it. If you have a problem with that perhaps I could let the other patrons here know how incredibly poor your service is.” He motioned to the diners seated neraby. The woman behind the counter looks up with worry in her eyes, and offers to give him a free meal and a 50% reduction on the bill.

“My son might come here to eat another time. I expect him to be served respectfully.”

As i’m beaming with pride for my father, he puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me out of the restaurant.

“I got you the waitress’s number, son. Don’t forget to make fun of her glasses.”

Impossible? One weekend reading this blog and that father could have saved his son’s soul that day. He might even have saved his marriage, but judging by the description of the mother, I’m not sure he’d have wanted to once he figured out that game gave him the ability to date more women. And better women.

The only advice I have for the young man who emailed me is the following:

1. Stop beating up on yourself and acting so goddamned melodramatic. You have much insight for your age. Your intelligence will take you far. Now what you need is calm and wisdom.

2. This too shall pass.

3. The big picture trumps the little picture.

4. Stay away from your mother as much as humanly possible. She is damaged goods for you. Single moms, even your own flesh and blood, are poison for your growth as a man and a ladykiller.

5. For that matter, stay away from your father. Unless he is willing to change, he will only continue to infect you with his beta loser stench. Harsh words, I know, but your well-being trumps all.

6. If you are not ready to give up on either of your parents, then show your father this blog. Tell him to read from day one. Enlightenment is a mouse click away.

7. Show your mother this blog too. Expect hysterics.

8. Stand up to your mother. From what you have written, she sounds like an emotional vampire who demands payment in obeisance and comes to loathe those who give her what she wants. Fuck that noise. Get back to the cocky/funny that you used to be around her.

9. If all the above fail, consider physically moving away from these parasites. Friends, family, everyone. Gather your savings, quit your job, and move to a new city or even a new country.

10. Someday you will die. But that day is not today. Now is the time to live.

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In Praise Of American Women

American women get a lot of shit, and justifiably so. Compared to the average women from other nations, the average American woman is:

– fat
– entitled
– unfeminine
– sarcastic
– fat
– demanding
– phony
– really effin fat
– misogynistic
– man-hating
– divorce-happy
– career-focused
– goddamn that is one obese land whale
– self-absorbed
– loud and obnoxious
– self-deluded
– attention whoring
– manlike
– sloppy and unkempt
– skreechy, whiny, bitchy
– and, oh yeah, did I mention fat?

But this post is not about what we already know to be true about American women and their wretched character. Instead, this post is a celebration of the positive attribute of American women. And it’s a big one.

Dimitri writes in a comment to this post:

I see not americans women as the problem but these females in general.

I’m from russia and you americans men who think our women better and to make you more happy, this is not true. I think russians women are worse for wanting you for your money and yelling at you if you do not meet her wants for material things. Many russians here have little so these women demand much, maybe because they see what you americans have on tv. I hate russia women and would be glad to have a women like you americans have who do not flirt or offer sex so they can marry my money. Russias women are manipulative i think like any other women. I have seen many women of all different backgrounds who conspire to meet an end.

Even though Dimitri’s English is choppy, I think we all understand what he’s saying. And I agree with him. While my experiences with Russian women have been blessedly free of craven materialistic concerns, I have heard plenty of stories from other men attesting to the coldly calculating mindset that Russian women tend to bring to the dating market. Dimitri is in the thick of it with Russian women, and he is thus able to gain a clearer third party perspective of American women. And to him, an outsider, it looks as if American women are loose sluts who happily give it up on the basis of fleeting emotion instead of crass materialistic reasons. It’s easy to see how foreign men like Dimitri would find that American female attitude a breath of fresh air compared to their devious compatriot women.

American women are indeed more callow when deciding which men to fuck. Money and resources matter, of course, but not until well after she’s already given it up. The American woman has fully imbibed the feminism of her mothers and grandmothers and is happy to slut it up with a roundtable of men who make her emotions tingle with delight by running good game on her. Those American beta males who think they will enjoy a feast of freebie pussy in other countries are in for a rude awakening. You might just find that the easiest women were right in your American backyard.

So this post is a big high five to American women for being self-sufficient enough to overlook crass financial and values compatibility and for being all too willing to give it up just because a guy negged her once or twice and played hard to get.

To American women! Ladies, you go all the way right away, and for that, we salute you! Grab your trophy at the door.

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Game And Life Trajectory

Game is, above all, about options. It is a toolkit and a psychological mindset that increases the number and quality of women available to you, and strengthens the attachment that women feel toward you. For the keepers of the societal cog assembly line, this is very bad news indeed, because men with options are men willing and able to put off or even entirely forego marriage and kids.

Options = Instability

For the typical man, game is probably the most powerful weapon in his arsenal of seduction that he has at his disposal. Few lifestyle changes can expand the pool of available and willing women as definitively as a concerted effort to learn game. A sudden infusion of wealth or fame, or a miracle of plastic surgery for the uglier men, would have a greater immediate impact than game, but for most men most of the time for whom fame and wealth are out of reach or would require decades of hard work to achieve, nothing gives a bigger bang for the bang than game.

This increase in sexual market leverage does come with a cost, depending on your philosophical view of the inherent tension between individual aggrandizement and societal well-being. As new vistas of poon open wide to the man who accepts the carnal word of game into his life, the context for the choices he makes and the big stages of life he is expected — worse, obligated and duty-bound according to some whiny women — to navigate are irrevocably altered. He no longer feels the pressure to accede to custom, to accept his lot like a good provider beta gear in the machine, or to join the herd of those corralled in claustrophobic pens of restricted options.

Such a man who possesses facility with attracting the opposite sex subconsciously regards his girlfriend (or girlfriends) with a utilitarian eye. He knows that should something go wrong, should she grow — heaven forfend! — bored with him, or he with her, he can find a replacement woman of equal or better quality with a few weeks effort. This self-awareness of his options, based in the reality of his experience, colors every choice he makes. And, more importantly, it instills in him a discreet take-it-or-leave-it demeanor that is unmistakeable, and unmistakably alluring, to women. It is the attitude of sex panther.

The man with options often decides, with justification, to say fuck it to marriage and all that soul-sucking suburban indentured servitude. Thus, knowledge of game and the larger selection of women it offers to the practitioner play a substantial role in the direction his life takes.

Reader Rum comments:

Getting a good grasp of game DOES disrupt the (supposedly) normal progression of life events. Indeed, it makes it dramatically more likely that you at 47 will get lascivious attention from “in-appropriately young” women. But, the thing is, with ordinary luck, you will be getting the same kind of vibes from that same chicks mother. (Its weird the way they smell the same).

So you will have to make a definite choice. Choose without thinking too much. Then pretend the mom thing never really happened. It might work.

This is no doubt true, as any man who has reaped the benefits of game will tell you. The socially-approved timetable of life stages is simply wiped clean, conventional expectations are brought to heel, and the horizon of choice pussy extends along every compass point.

The normal, 21st century progression of life events for the average beta bear who knows nothing of game looks like this:

– hit puberty
– masturbate for ten years
– attend sex ratio-skewed college full of slutty women and get lucky once or twice, despite social awkwardness
– enlist in cubicle farm, ogle sexy co-workers at sexual harassment seminar
– manage to land a 4 or 5 girlfriend through drunken social circle
– date her for two years until she dumps him
– drown sorrows for one full year torturing self with repeated viewings of ex’s Facebook relationship status updates, (“Currently in a harem!”), including make-out pics with new biker boyfriend
– meet an “amazing” 5.5 chubby girl with “more to love”
– propose 1.2 years later
– get married, have kids
– watch as his soul drains away from enforced monogamy and ingrate spawn
– surprise divorcebuttsecks!
– pay half for the lingerie ex-wife buys to titillate her new succession of fly-by-night lovers
– contemplate killing self
– work self to bone for a corporate behemoth’s bottom line
– after ten years being single and paying alimony, meet a 45 year old divorcée lawyer with saggy tits and flat ass
– “court” her, or a reasonable facsimile thereof
– suffer the indignity of pretending to enjoy kissing her as her hot daughter traipses around the house in short shorts
– live out waning days accompanying hag second wife to arts and crafts boutiques
– get sent to nursing home by “compassionate” children for sweet deliverance from the prison of wrecked flesh that holds the last vestige of his faintly man-like soul

Ok, now here’s the 21st century progression of life events for the man who knows game and uses it to successfully meet women:

– hit puberty. If a born natural, begin fucking “underage” (it’s all relative) high school girls. If not a born natural, learn from naturals, mimic them, and discover the crimson arts
– have a sweet sixteen girlfriend (or two) he will never forget, and who he will always compare, usually favorably, to future lovers, to keep those future lovers off any pedestals he may be inspired to erect in their names
– fuck like a rabbit in college if early start. Otherwise, fuck like a rabbit for the next twenty years after college
– somewhere along that timeline, meet a great girl who he rationally tells himself would make a good wife
– reminds himself that marriage is an irrational choice. Then reminds himself that he loves flirting with the cashier at the supermarket, and he marvels how easy it would be to snag her number
– laughs to himself at thought of proposing. (“Bended knee, my ass!”)
– good girl dumps him for wasting her prime years. In his sorrow, he responds by traveling and banging a couple of international hotties
– his divorced and financially raped male friends glom onto him. His harried married male friends secretly envy him
– work is just another word for lifestyle enabler
– spend waning years dating relatively younger and younger women, watching the age gap widen and his married chump friends waking up to the realization that they are shackled by law to wrinkly old bags
– society hates him. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t give a shit
– die post-coitus from a heart attack. Leave the world alone to enter a void of nothingness, no different than all those married schlubs who toiled for years to nurture and raise a legacy of strippers and delinquents

Any questions?

Oh, yeah, there is one question I have. I understand the Chateau has been mentioned as an outpost of loathsome, bowel-shaking truth in Kay Hymowitz’s new book Manning Up. Dearest Kay, please tell the Chateau readership…

What exactly does marriage offer to guys like us who have the tools to meet, fuck and love women?

It’s not like marriage by its very nature isn’t a raw deal for men. Even the supposed health benefits of marriage for men are a lie. Assuming the law was fair and not the man-hating femcunt swamp of legalistic ass-rogering that it is today, marriage would still be a bigger sacrifice for men than it is for women, simply because men are more naturally promiscuous than women and thus have more to lose by cuffing themselves to a legally enforced institution of monogamy. But now throw in the divorce industrial complex, the house, the kids, alimony, a washed up pussy distended from riding the cock carousel during her lean years and all the rest and that just makes the case against marriage even more airtight than it was before.

PS: Any appeals to nobility or honor will not count as a valid answer. Instead, they will be seen for what they are: a flagrant, flailing attempt to shame men into making choices that further feminists’ interests while undermining men’s interests.

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Reader Feedback

Emails from readers praising this blog for making their lives better are a daily occurrence nowadays, but these two notes of thanks — one an email and the other a comment — struck a chord.

I found your blog about 1 1/2 years ago. I check it out just about everyday. I love reading your stories, about game, women, and just your day to day thoughts. During my year long deployment to Afghanistan it really helped me get through the week. Just wanted to say thanks for everything you do, and I hope you keep on posting.

Thanks

Nicholas

And this comment from a man in India who calls himself “kc”:

Dear Chateau members,
I was introduced to your blog in 2010 via Bernard Chapin. Ever since I have been an avid reader. I write from India. You have an Indian fan. As someone who is on the verge of getting married, let me tell you your advice works. I have tried it and it works. Man have to lead. There is no alternative. While I am looking for marriage and not STRs/LTRs, reading Game and Athol Kay etc etc has made a difference to my life. In the Indian context, I would certainly say that elements of Game work. Since we have not reached that level of feminism like in the US so far and in the comparative absence of a welfare state, while hard core gaming is not necessary, elements can be applied for the good. The knife of game can be used for life saving surgeries. I don’t have any illusions about women any more but enjoying the love of one is certainly good. Some day I would write a guest post for the Chateau, giving my experiences. Regards.

Would it be uncouth to preen? Of course it would. *PREEN*

Reader thank yous like the ones above are reminders that the subversive works of the Chateau have broadened into an enterprise more meaningful than the fun, downtime hobby which was, and will continue to be, its true purpose. What happens at the Chateau, no longer stays at the Chateau.

And, kc, you are welcome to write a guest post about your experience with game in India.

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Going All In Or Cashing Out

A reader laments:

I met this incredibly cute girl who really did it for me and we’ve been dating for four months. But lately I’ve felt less and less like having sex with her. She still looks great but my thoughts wander to hooking up with other women I see every day. I’ve even been having sex dreams about ex’s. Has this happened to you? I don’t want to break up with her because she might be the best I can get at the moment, but my horniness for her is disappearing.

This is the classic relationship conundrum that all men experience — whether to go all in for a shot at the big pot, or cash out of the dating market altogether and settle into a life of comfortable ennui with one’s respectable winnings. Two endogenous factors will influence a man to one or the other choice: the number and sensitivity of his dopamine receptors, and his ability to pick up equally hot or hotter girls within a reasonable time frame. Two exogenous factors will also exert influence over his decision: the hotness of his current girlfriend, and the number of available potential replacements within his milieu.

A thrill-seeking man with tight game and a track record of fulfilling his desires who is currently dating below his level in a region filled with single beautiful women will be very difficult to corral into a monogamous relationship by any but the hottest girls. Strong cultural stigma and peer pressure, coupled with a 9 or a 10 on his arm, are the only counterweights capable of restraining his impulses. Men like these types are the reason why women rush their newly-minted alpha hubbies out to the bland suburbs where he won’t be tempted by a daily farmer’s market of juicy, ripe fruit for the plucking, and where his energy and focus will be spent paying off the McMansion mortgage.

A tentative man with no game and few past lovers of any note who is currently dating at or above his level in a region bereft of single beautiful women will be loath to leave such an arrangement. Strong cultural stigma and peer pressure are not needed for him to remain monogamous, except when he gets dumped and needs a kick in the ass to begin meeting new women. Men like these types are happy to run to the suburbs, to get their wives away from the roving alpha males.

The four factors are important, but it is the man’s skill with women and the hotness of his girlfriend which will most determine his likelihood to stick with her for a long time. In fact, a girlfriend’s hotness alone is an amazingly accurate predictor of how quickly the average man will grow bored of sex with her (if he is honest with himself).

GF’s hotness          Time to boredom
0                         0 seconds
1                          0.1 seconds
2                          0.5 seconds
3                          1.1 seconds
4                          15 seconds
5                          5 minutes (this is very much an exponential plot)
6                          3 weeks
7                          6 months
8                          2 years
9                          5 years
10                        10 years to never

Ladies, do you have trouble pulling your man away from video games to share passionate intimacy with you? Might want to look in the mirror. The fault, dear Beatrice, lies not in the stars (or in self-medicating thoughts that his plumbing is failing), but in you.

Now growing bored with girlfriend sex is not the same as running off to find new pussy. Many men make the sensible and quite logical calculation, based on a confluence of the factors listed above, that the risk of a long dry spell in the field is not worth the loss of tepid schtupping on the regular, no matter how rote it has become. And many of these men go on to lead lives of quiet resignation that their days of lackluster sex will follow them to the grave. It is this fear of the hopeless, grinding dry spell that keeps many ugly couples together, and breeding their ugliness into future generations.

There is also a vicious feedback loop that exacerbates the tendency of successful womanizers to continue their pump and dump ways. If the average man who is used to no better than 5s or 6s hooks up with a 7, he will be happy for quite a while with her IF his self-conception remains static. Yet, what will we likely see? His ego will grow in lockstep with the improving looks of his conquests, thus spurring him to greater challenges. Men who see sudden improvements to their game and consequently, their meet to lay ratio, are usually the most imprudent at relationship management, because their egos carry them perpetually forward searching for hotter girls until their limits are reached. The worst LTR prospect for a woman is the man new to game; he is a world of pain waiting for her. The best LTR prospects for women would be quasi-virginal men who have not had the beta beaten into them, or established players who are happy with their record of accomplishment and ready to slow down.

So… to go all in or cash out? Remember, there is a real risk that years of loneliness or regret are your fate should you jettison your devoted but familiar lover for the excitement of fresh meat. That in mind, I can only offer these words of wisdom:

You will get bored of sex with every girl you date/love/marry. The only question is how soon.

No girl can completely satisfy you. As soon as you meet such a girl, your standards will shift upward. This is the nature of your humanity.

You should go all in at least once in your life. You’d be surprised what you can achieve under duress.

Relatedly, you should not use one big winning from going all in to justify going all in all the time. That is the newb’s curse, and it will vex you in time. Sometimes, you do find that great girl, and the upside of gaining fresher pussy isn’t worth the downside of losing loving pussy.

If your game is good, throw your chips around like a whale. But always be open to the possibility of a final hand.

If your game is really good….. MLTR!

God bless!

PS Sex dreams featuring exes are pretty common for men. We have a tendency to fondly remember with rose-colored glasses the best of our exes while conveniently shunting aside the shit that drove us crazy. Coupled with our harem drive, it’s no wonder our brains fire off nighttime visions of multiple lovers past and present. That is why men will rarely have “love dreams” of former girlfriends. Fuck, I can recall the vulvas of at least five exes with more clarity than I can their faces.

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