Banging Outside Your Race Won’t Hurt Your Chances With Same-Race Women

Reader “Me” muses:

I’m not so sure that banging a non-white girl hurts your chances at all with quality white women. I would think that being attractive to different races/cultures could only boost your chances.

There will be no studies referenced in this post, because, let’s face it, the watery-eyed milquetoasts who run the labs would never sign off on a study examining the effect on perceptions of male attractiveness by women toward same-race men who are dating, or have dated, outside their race. Instead, I will rely on personal experience to buttress Me’s assumption.

There is no doubt, based on what I have observed, that white women will find you more alluring if you have dated outside your race. This opinion, or feeling, will be shared by flings, girlfriends, and wives. In fact, having a spotted checkered wondrously diverse dating history of occasionally banging 6s and 7s outside your race will make you seem just as, if not more, attractive than if you had dated 8s and 9s strictly within your race. The reason for this rests with that subconscious calculation — the whirring and beeping of the female limbic system — which automatically infers that a man who can bed cute girls of a different race (or, to a lesser degree, a different nationality) must be a mighty force of irresistible masculinity, indeed.

Women, and white women in particular*, being the more racist of the sexes as measured by mating preference, incorrectly presume that the obstacles the typical man faces in his pursuit of pussy are multiplied when the object of his lust is a different race. (The truth of the matter is that the difficulty of bedding the rainbow tapestry of womanhood varies depending on the specific race of the parties and the point on the masculinity/femininity nexus along which both reside.) And so women earnestly believe that a man who can overcome those race-based obstacles must have something going for him.

So too, there is the competition anxiety that a man who has sampled the world’s banquet of bush provokes in supercharged SWPLy women. On the one hand, these lily-white women live and breathe the PC zeitgeist that steers them along the pinched paths of multicult slavishness. But on the other, is the fear and envy of the pulse of raw sexual energy that good white women in their craggiest neural crevices believe that non-white women possess in spades more than they do. The cognitive dissonance drives them simply batty with sexual inferiority complexes. (Maria Shriver must have been going insane with self-reappraisal when she found out Arnold liked the Latina ass.)

I have seen it with my own eyes, and experienced it with my own glorious ego. When I casually mentioned a black lover I once had to a (non-black) girlfriend, her eyes went wide with cautious wonder, and she poked for more information, which I recounted with feigned reluctance, each tidbit of juiciness (yes, her ass defied gravity, no, she wasn’t ghetto) prompting from her expressions of amazement and half-hearted pleas to stop. She was clearly intrigued, and yet also ferociously jealous, that I had stepped across the line in the jungle to savor what was to her the rawest sexual taboo. From then forward, every time we passed a black girl on the street, I would peripherally notice my lover’s eyes darting once to the black girl, and then once back at me to gauge my reaction. This, gentlemen, is how you keep a woman on her toes in a relationship, working perpetually for your favor.

Black girls aren’t the only sore spot to the white woman. Heaven forbid the white man who has had a delicately feminine Asian girlfriend sweeping down the corridors of his past, should his white girlfriend know of it! Nothing inspires white (heh) hot jealousy in a white woman with greater fury than the Asian ex-girlfriend. This innate jealousy will explode into a supernova if you have an Asian mistress. A buddy once made the mistake of (accurately) reminding his put-upon white girlfriend that his Asian ex and she were more alike than she thought. The comparison drove her wild with sputtering indignation, for she had spent the better part of their relationship in feral cattiness denigrating his poor Asian ex whenever the subject came up. A woman does not heap that kind of fulsome hate upon those she feels are no threat to her sexual market value.

But you can bet the bank that my buddy got hand the day his girlfriend saw the pic of his cute Asian ex. His value had jumped, and would stay there barring severe beta regression.

This peculiar female presumption to imagine the best — aka lustiest — about men who date outside their race holds great benefit for the man wishing to leverage it into personal advantage. Letting it be known, in as plausibly extemporaneous a manner as possible, that you have a few black girls, Asian girls and, whoa stop the presses!, Indian girls in your timeline of ass-tapping is like catnip to the white woman’s theater of the hindmind. You can save a lot of money on travel expenses cultivating your international man of mystery pose by cheaply bedding down in your neighborhood with some flava flav every once in a while.

Preselection knows no racial boundaries. If the women you bang are cute and well-kept, the addition of a racial component will intensify a girlfriend’s jealousy instinct, which is the high voltage electricity that fuels the tingle capacitor. The greater variety of good-looking women you have ravished, the stronger will be a current fling’s libidinous intrigue.

The ONLY variable that influences a woman’s preselection algorithm for gauging male attractiveness is the beauty or ugliness of the women a man has banged. This is one of those unpalatable measuring sticks by which women judge your worth as a man — through the eyes of the women you have previously seduced. If those exes are a miss parade of has-beens, fatties and fugs, a girl will downgrade your SMV to a point lower than if you had never dated any women. If your exes are consistently cute, a girl will feel a strange compulsion to adore you.

Class factors little in the female preselection equation. If anything, class can have an inverse effect on a woman’s perception of your sexual value relative to her own. An upper middle-class SWPL chick will be inclined to question her own worth a lot more if she knows you have stepped out with some sexy hot lower class non-white chick. She’s going to wonder if she lacks the necessary spice you need to stay sexually motivated. She’ll think maybe her stiffly geometric WASP hips aren’t soulful enough to keep you glued.

Since women’s sexuality is biologically more valuable than men’s, it’s in your interest as a man to cultivate a tincture of such self-doubt in your lovers. Men who knee-jerk pedestalize women have no idea how difficult they are making the game. To pedestalize a woman is to hoist her above the penthouse in which she already reposes.

A quality white woman will be productively jealous if she knows you have had sex with girls of different races. This reaction of hers may be compounded if your exes are from distinct classes or milieus. But there is a limit to the female interest that your interracial loving will inspire. A history with trashy ghetto queens or snaggle-toothed FOBs is not gonna redound positively on you.

Before I forget, there is one more race-based preselection factor (besides objective beauty) that will shape how a woman perceives your sexual status: If you have dated NOTHING BUT girls of different races, you will be viewed with a jaundiced eye as a man who doesn’t have what it takes to win over women of his own race. Men who date other-race women to the exclusion of women of their own race are generally, and usually correctly, seen as sexual fetishists. A banal fetish for other races reveals more than it intends, and women of your own race are apt to discount you as a low value man whose limited options forced him downmarket.

It’s a simple thing to avoid this negative appraisal: restrict your outside-race dating to 40% or fewer of your sum total of lovers. Just enough to rev the ol’ hamster, but not so much that you forfeit the same-race game entirely. Of course, if you are fed up with SWPL vessels brimming with apparatchik drivel, you could flip the bird to all that and find true joy and happiness in the pleasures of hybrid vigor.

A list of lovers by race, in descending order of arousing jealousy and attraction in white women:

An extremely beautiful Russian woman. (A hot Russian/Ukrainian 10 is the worldwide gold standard.)
Asian woman. (The more petite, the better. You really want to throw that BMI discrepancy into stark relief.)
Indian woman. (So strange and exclusive, and so bothersome to the white girl ego!)
Middle Eastern woman. (White girl thinks belly dancer.)
Non-ghetto, slender black woman. (Jungle love, it’s driving me crazy.)
Non-sausagy Hispanic woman. (Selma Hayek, not Consuela.)
Eskimo woman. (Points for adventurousness.)
Aboriginal woman. (What were you thinking?)

*I imagine the forces at work in the white woman’s mind when contemplating a man’s multi-racial dating history are similar to what transpires in a black, Hispanic or Asian woman’s mind. I think we’ve all heard the stories of black women becoming absolutely incensed when a black man takes up with a white woman.

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Chicks Dig Jerks: More Scientific Evidence

The blows of excruciating truth continue raining down on feminists’ block-like skulls. A recent scientific study (via reader “Dor”) confirms a core theme of this blog that chicks really do dig jerks.

The personality traits that compose the Dark Triad [i.e. narcissism, psychopathy and Machiavellianism] have typically been considered abnormal, pathological and inherently maladaptive. Although individuals with these traits inflict costs to themselves and others, the Dark Triad traits are also associated with some qualities, including a drive for power, low neuroticism and extraversion, that may be beneficial. Together with low amounts of empathy and agreeableness, such traits may facilitate — especially for men — the pursuit of an exploitative short-term mating strategy.

So what is this study telling us? What Heartiste concepts are validated?

– Narcisisstic, irrational self-confidence is more attractive to women than modest, rational defeatism. (See: Poon Commandment XI)

– Being a rule breaker (a form of psychopathy) is attractive to women. (Playing by the rules will win you plaudits from polite society, but it won’t help you get pussy.)

– Using people for personal gain is attractive to women.

– The Dark Triad works best for short term sexual hookups (the kinds of mating opportunities most men would jump at if they were easy to get). LTRs require a small but significant infusion of beta provider game to remain healthy and satisfying for any woman.

– Being disagreeable (an asshole, that is) is attractive to women.

– Being power-hungry is attractive to women.

– Never sweating the small stuff is attractive to women.

– In other words, being an aloof, uncaring asshole — an amalgamation of all the above traits — makes you optimally attractive to the greatest number of hot chicks.

– Contrary to feminist flailing to gender equalize the attractiveness of assholes by claiming that men prefer bitches, this study conclusively shows that the Dark Triad suite of asshole traits works better for men than it does for women. That is, men don’t dig bitches.

– None of the above would ever be admitted by women, so don’t bother asking them.

Women who can’t help but love men who hit them, like Rihanna, are only the bleeding edge (heh) of a general and primordial inclination by the fairer sex to swoon for emotionally callous, manipulative assholes. You may hate this assessment, but you can’t disagree with it. You’re soaking in its truth.

Those who hate the messenger (yours untruly) for shedding light on this reality often like to ask if I would be OK with some erudite guy telling men to be assholes to get chicks if my hypothetical daughter was to wind up in the arms of such an asshole (like this dude). Of course, I wouldn’t. Amoralistic biology ensures there will be competing and contradictory passions, double standards up the wazoo. What father in his right mind would want his daughter to fall for an asshole? And yet, I am not my hypothetical daughter’s pleasure center. What I would want as a hypothetical father should not stain the quest for truth.

I present the truth, suggest ways to exploit this truth, and allow the readers to ultimately decide which path to take for themselves.

One thing we know for certain: if it’s young, fresh, maximally fertile pussy you want, you can’t go wrong cranking up the assholery.

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Chase, Interrupted

My slim cut extra medium T-shirt felt sloppy on me, sitting across the table from his dark blue suit. A blood red tie slashed his white shirt down the middle, and he caressed the lip of his glass of whiskey with a manicured index finger that hasn’t seen manual labor since high school.

“You sound like you’re ready to call it quits,” he mused.

“Well, now I wouldn’t go that far.”

“How long you been together?”

I stuttered on the number. “Hm… nine months, year. Somewhere around there.”

“That’s love.”

“Yeah, she’s all right.”

He took a slow sip and eyed through the back of his glass a young blonde with an aggressively arched torso sitting at the bar. “Marriage?”

“Ha. Funny. I’m just enjoying it in its pristine condition at the moment. What about you? Any slowing down?”

“I didn’t know this was a race.”

“You know what I mean. How much longer can you play the field?”

“How much longer can you go on breathing? You see the absurdity in your question.” He flicked a mosquito off his arm sleeve. The rooftop was buzzing with liquored career girls and blues music trapped in humidity.

I exhaled words through my lips, “I admit there are times… a lot of times… when I miss the chase.”

“You can still have that.”

“No, not really. Technically, you can. But in reality the feeling is never the same.”

He leaned forward and crinkled his brow. “How so?”

“There’s no freedom in cheating. At least, not the sort of freedom that makes your brain feel like it’s on helium. Cheating is exciting, but no matter how you compartmentalize it, you’ll always have to deal with that tiny pang of guilt.”

“Sure, but it’s worth it when you consider the alternative.” He shivered from an invisible north wind. “Monogamy.”

“There’s more to it than guilt, which was never much of a disincentive for me, anyway. When you know you always have that fallback lover, that girl who will be there at home, waiting for you, the victories taste less sweet. Where’s the challenge? A well executed seduction as a free man is a very different experience than one as a taken man. Failure means more when you’re single, and so success means more as well.”

“Beautiful words. But your virtue won’t last. You’ll be back. I know you.”

He pressed forward over the table once again, and for the first time that night his tie went askew.

I studied my mischievous friend waiting for me to invite him to speak. “What?”

“You remember Adele? That girl you took back to her place from this very bar… twice… for one night stands?”

“Adele. Yeah,” I reflected.

“She had a nice place, didn’t she? Big bay window in her bedroom. You were about to fuck her, condomless, in the deep of the night, and right before penetration you looked down and admired her thatch of honey blonde pubic hair. Shards of streetlamp light shone through the window and illuminated her pubes. Her tuft glittered, you said. You were surprised that her rug was as brightly blonde as her hair.”

“All natural, too. She was a Vikingess.”

“Mmm, hm. The optical geometry of that night is scorched forever on your retinas. In old age, you’ll forget everything but moments like that. You’ll forget your kids’ names but you’ll recall with perfect clarity the night of that dance of streetlight, bed, and pubes. And the others like it.”

“I know where you’re going with this.”

His lip curled. “Do you?”

“She had a boyfriend. Which I found out about later. I met him, briefly. Shook his hand and everything just to make her uncomfortable. She didn’t know if I was crazy enough to mention our tryst. Of course, I didn’t. But I loved that spectacle. It’s not often one gets a chance to smother a woman so thoroughly with her clandestine evil.”

“Yes, there was that, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh?”

“What does it feel like, knowing that should you follow your goodness to its conclusion, you will never again enjoy the discovery of new pubic canopies? To forever shutter the windows on that bay window of your adventurer’s soul?”

“Poetic. But I love the pubes of the girl I’m with now.”

“One pube color, until you die.” With that, he and his sharp dark suit rose and glided to the bar blonde with the bitchy back. I could overhear their conversation.

You have excellent posture. Very masculine. I don’t think I’ve seen marine sergeants sit as ramrod straight as you.
Thanks. I try not to slouch.
Posture like that could be intimidating to some men. Let me guess, you love the power rush.
Doesn’t seem to be a problem for you.
I’m quaking in my boots.

I finished my drink and watched a cocktail napkin slide from one hand to another. Old-fashioned and personal. That was his style.

At home, a scribbled note greeted me on the coffee table. “I bought you OJ. Feel better!”

I fumbled around my jeans pocket, found what I was looking for, and sent a text.

interesting… meeting you, general sherman. I might call you.

I burned the tattered tissue paper in my hand with a lighter and mixed myself a screwdriver. My thumb hovered over the delete button.

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Identifying Sluts: The Science

It’s important for men to be able to ascertain which women he meets are sluts, for two main reasons:

1. The Good Times consideration.

Slut identification allows him to quickly screen for women who are more likely to put out on the first or second date.

2. The Long Haul consideration.

Slut identification allows him to studiously avoid investing resources in those women who would make bad wives or girlfriends.

Bad wives?, sputters the peanut gallery. Yes. Women who have had more than the average number of sex partners are higher infidelity risks. If you do the stupid thing and marry a woman with 16 prior partners (freely entertained, of course!), your risk of suffering a humiliating divorce raping goes up to 80%.

Now science has further buttressed the cause of slut identification with a list of telltale slut stigmata that every man should be on the lookout for, (and which corroborate a lot of the wisdom in this post), should matrimony or horniness compel his decision-making. And the verdict is in: a woman’s “sexual personality” matters more than the demographic group to which she belongs.

In a new study, men and women were more likely to report infidelity, or cheating — often a marriage or relationship deal-breaker — when they also experienced an increased sensitivity for sexual performance problems and a decreased likelihood to lose their sexual arousal in the face of risk or danger.

The study, by researchers at Indiana University’s Center for Sexual Health Promotion, The Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender and Reproduction, and the University of Guelph, is the first to look at the influence of lovers’ sexual personality traits on infidelity. Their findings, published online this month in the journal Archives of Sexual Behavior, show that these sexual personality characteristics carry more sway than factors typically studied, namely demographic information such as gender and marital status.

Consistent with previous studies, the IU study found little difference in the rates of infidelity reported by men and women (23 percent and 19 percent, respectively). However, there were difference between the sexes in reasons related to infidelity.

Trend lines indicate that female infidelity is catching up with male infidelity, a social phenomenon which was described with alacrity by this very blog. However, what hasn’t changed is the fact that men are still the bigger cheaters than women, though the difference has shrunk.

Now let’s see what slut tells the study has found.

The propensity for sexual excitation, or the ease with which one becomes sexually aroused by all kinds of triggers and situations, played a bigger role for the men compared to the women, for whom lower relationship happiness and poor compatibility with their spouse or partner in terms of sexual attitudes were more important to the prediction of infidelity.

Another core Chateau concept confirmed by science. Men cheat because variety is the spice of life, and men with raging libidos are more likely to act on the desire for variety. Women cheat because they are unhappy with their beta schlubs (often) or they feel neglected by their emotionally distant alpha dreamboats (not as often).

And while the idea that an increased sensitivity to sexual performance failures would make men and women more likely to cheat might sound counter-intuitive, Mark said other Kinsey Institute studies have tied higher levels of inhibition such as this with risky sexual behavior.

“People experiencing this might seek out high-risk situations to overcome arousal problems, or might feel less pressure to impress someone outside of their primary relationship than they do with their partner,” Mark said. “A new partner also wouldn’t know your history of having performance concerns or other issues.”

If your woman can’t get an orgasm, or frets about not getting an orgasm, or goes through elaborate OCD rituals before having sex, or has a giant purple saguaro on her nightstand, you are probably dating a slut. Proceed with caution.

• Neither marital status nor how religious study participants were was predictive of having had or not having had sex outside of the relationship.

Marriage is no exemption from participation, willing or not, in the unrelenting mercilessness of the sexual market.

• For both men and women, another predictor of infidelity was a tendency to engage in regretful sexual behavior when in a negative or positive mood state.

Watch out for girls who like to screw after a good cry. Or an especially harsh neg from an asshole.

• Study participants completed the Sexual Excitation/Sexual Inhibition Scales (SIS/SES), a questionnaire developed at The Kinsey Institute that considers sexual personality characteristics. It measures propensity for sexual excitation (SES) and for two types of sexual inhibition: Sexual inhibition due to the threat of performance failure (SIS1) and sexual inhibition due to the threat of performance consequences (SIS2). The men and women also completed the Mood and Sexuality Questionnaire. The SES/SIS, which is used by researchers all over the world, is based on the dual control model of sexual response, developed by researchers at The Kinsey Institute. This model proposes that sexual desire, arousal and associated behaviors depend on a balance between sexual excitation and inhibition, and that people vary in their propensities for these processes.

If a woman is very uninhibited in nonsexual matters or tangentially sexual matters, she is likely to be uninhibited within the sexual intimacy sphere as well. Not that it needs spelling out, but strippers, hookers, bar dancers and thrill seekers like sky divers — that is, those women with a desire mechanism biased in favor of excitation and against inhibition — are higher infidelity risks than women who don’t or haven’t engaged in these activities. (Which is why strippers make such good pickup prospects.)

• Concerning sexual inhibition due to the threat of performance consequences (SIS2), for every one unit increase, with higher scores representing higher inhibition, women were 13 percent less likely to have cheated and men were 7 percent less likely to have cheated.

If I read this right, it seems women don’t cheat (as much as men) because they’re worried about the consequences (e.g., pregnancy), and the more they worry, the less likely they are to cheat. Human nature: 1, social engineers: 0.

• Concerning inhibition due to the threat of sexual performance failure, women were 8 percent more likely to cheat for each one unit increase on the scale that measured this inhibition (higher score means greater inhibition). Men were 6 percent more likely to cheat with each one unit increase on the scale.

Veeery interesting. Women with “performance issues” are more likely to cheat than men with these issues. Although I’m not exactly sure what a sexual performance failure would constitute for a woman; if the man gets off, she’s not failing anything. Oh yeah, her orgasm…. mmm, sandwich time!

• Women reporting low relationship happiness were 2.6 times more likely to report having engaged in infidelity. Women who perceived low compatibility in terms of sexual attitudes and values were 2.9 times more likely to cheat.

This is why game is so important inside as well as outside of relationships.

Now that you are armed with a catalogue of accurate slut tells, go forth, find and sexually satisfy the sluts among you. Then, maritally deny them. No need to anguish over any moral crisis. It’s just the way the game is played.

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Chicks Dig Jerks: The Veil Of Self-Deception

Swatting her cat off her couch before sitting down on it, I rested my eyes on her thighs and then up at her face. Cradling a tumbler of scotch, I asked, “How was ladies’ night with the girls? Any juicy gossip?”

She beamed with eagerness and inhaled loudly. “It was great! Let’s see, what have I heard… Oh, there was this girl Gillian, you haven’t met her, an old high school friend of Kelly’s, who’s been seeing this guy for eight years. Everyone hates Gillian’s boyfriend because he’s cheated on her, more than once.”

“Worse than a one night stand?”

“Much worse, but that’s bad too, so don’t get any ideas. He was cheating on her for a whole year with another girl. He had a relationship with this girl while he was seeing Gillian.”

“Wow, that is…”, I searched for a suitably ambiguous word that would simultaneously express disapproval and admiration, “…brazen.”

“It’s dickish is what it is! And then after Gillian found out, he cheated on her again with someone else. But Gillian never left the guy. Eight years together, and she’s still seeing him.”

Doing my best to affect surprise and consternation, I stentoriously proclaimed, “I would think that a hidden relationship with another woman is pretty solid grounds for breaking up, but I guess Gillian didn’t see it that way.”

“I know, it’s crazy. And Gillian is really attractive, too. She could have any guy she wanted. There were tons of guys at the club going up to her, but she couldn’t be bothered. Why she stays with him is a mystery.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have a picture of her from the night?”

She held the camera in front of me. “It’s her.” I solemnly judged. A hard 9.

She exasperated, “We’ve tried telling Gillian to dump him, but she won’t listen. All she does is complain about him, but she never leaves him. So we gave up trying to help her. If that’s what she wants. It just doesn’t make any sense why a girl with her looks would put up with that from a…”

“Douchebag.”

“Yeah, a douchebag.”

Mischievous tendrils curled around my thoughts. “I’ve noticed it’s the prettiest girls that go for the biggest assholes. Why do you think that is?”

“Well…” she stutters. “I don’t know. *I* don’t go for assholes.” She smiles and pushes me into the couch cushion.

“I think hot girls love a challenge, and assholes give that to them.”

My sexy interrogation subject looked around the room distractedly, as if the conversation had suddenly ceased to enthrall her.

I pressed. “I bet there are lots of great guys who would treat Gillian well, who she doesn’t give the time of day to.”

“I guess so. What can I say? Who knows why some girls go for these guys. I can’t figure it out. It’s not something I would do.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” I poked her cat in the anus with a pen I was holding. It meowed and leapt to the floor.

******

If you ask the typical woman why girls, particularly good-looking girls, dig jerks, you’ll usually get a flurry of denials or a shoulder shrug of bewilderment. What you will never get is an accurate appraisal of the phenomenon. There is such a glaring disconnect between the reality of girls chasing after assholes, (something which every man who has lived a day in his life has seen often enough that it has become a well-worn cliche), and the inability of girls to recognize the readily observable facts of their own behavior, that it leads one to believe women were born with a self-deception mental module that prevents them from having sufficient awareness of their sexual desires.

If this is so, then it at once must engender a sort of charmed understanding, even cooing pity, for women when they attempt to grapple with the issue of their sexuality, like children fumbling with letter blocks to form that first monosyllabic word. We want to reach out and hug them for the accomplishment of achieving cognizance of 1% of what motivates their lust. It is simply the case, therefore, that a full theory of female sexual behavior must include the working assumption that women are barred by some shadowy biological force emanating either from the brain case or the loins from, one, recognizing their actions in the sexual marketplace for what they are and, two, from properly explaining them when they do accept the facts laid before them.

Women truly DO NOT UNDERSTAND why it is they love the types of men they do. Evolution, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that it is in the best interests of genetic propagation for women to be fairly well shielded from the crass machinations of their own lust drives, in a way that men are not. So the next time a girl who is very important to you, and whose opinion you respect, bafflingly throws up her hands in complete ignorance of the ancient urges that guide her attractions, do the wise thing and cut her some slack. She really has no idea.

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Cutter Lover

We were laying down side by side on her bed mid-afternoon. It was muggy in her small and untidy bedroom because her window unit A/C wasn’t working properly. She was naked and I was resting my left hand on her mons pubis, as if it were the lacquered mahogany end of an arm rest. This was the first time she exhibited her naked body to me under the shadowless light of daytime. Every dimple and flaw she no doubt imbued with outsized importance was freely visible to my appreciative eyes. Before this moment, sex was a nighttime activity only.

As we lied on the bed staring at the ceiling and her collection of carved giraffes on her bookshelf, my hand wandered down her thigh. A geometric pattern of tiny raised obstacles tickled my palm. I looked over at her leg where my hand was perched and saw three thin reddish-purple lines, barely a millimeter in width but each more than three inches long, carved into the flank of her thigh and hip like claw marks from the angry swipe of a cat.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, these?”

“Yep. It looks like a cat got you.”

She steadied her gaze and paused, an odd hesitation that told me she was quickly weighing the options of lying or telling the truth. “I… they’re cut marks.”

“Cut marks?”

“Not from anything. I did them to myself.”

“You cut yourself? With a razor blade?”

“Yeah, I use a blade from my leg razor.”

“Oookay.” I moved my hand away and focused on her slim vulva and then her face. “That’s strange. Why?”

“It helps when I’m feeling crappy. I get into these moods, and the only way I can feel better is by cutting myself.”

“So hurting yourself makes you feel better.”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy. Don’t be a judgy jerk about this.”

“It is crazy. Why not try running to lift your mood? Or alcohol? It won’t leave scars.”

“There are no scars. I make sure not to do it too deep to leave a scar.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“No, just you. Although my mom once saw the marks and I lied to her about them.”

I fingered the congealed blood of the narrow cuts. “You do them on parts of your body that won’t normally be seen in public.”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve been doing this a long time?”

“Since ninth grade.”

“Are you depressed?”

“You know I get depressed sometimes.” She waved a hand at her superficial wounds. “This helps me cope.”

“We need to find you a new coping mechanism. I like your skin to stay silky smooth.”

I never talked about the cutting with her again. Fact is, it didn’t much bother me. We were together for another nine months or so, and the sex was always hot. She was up for it anywhere, anytime. Like me, she especially liked doing it in front of mirrors. She had an incredibly high libido even for a crazy chick. I briefly wondered if it was the inherent drama in our relationship and my flirtatious ways with other women which caused her to cut, but she never did it again while we were together, as far as I could tell. (The possibility exists she found a harder-to-locate patch of land somewhere in the nooks of her body to hide her cutting from me. But I’m pretty thorough when it comes to exploring the savannah of a lover’s body.) I believed her when she said she cut to feel better. As a man, I can understand the impulse. We men often relish the pain of crunching blows from fights or sports or body blows from self-discovery adventures gone awry. Testosterone makes us men want to feel life for all it’s worth, and there’s no better mental stimulant than the physical stimulants of pain and sex.

But not too much pain. We’ve got our pretty boy faces to keep in mind.

Pain takes us men out of our minds, away from debilitating introspection and toward living in the moment. Maybe for some women, pain from cutting performs a similar psychological analgesic for them, taking them away from worries and stress and into their exquisite bodies where their truest womanhood resides.

***

Do women, then, cut because of negative emotions filling their hearts? A study states it is so, drawing relevance with ancient religious practices of self-flagellation to cleanse the soul of impurities.

Psychological scientist Brock Bastian of the University of Queensland, Australia and his colleagues recruited a group of young men and women under the guise they were part of a study of mental and physical acuity. Under this pretense, they asked them to write short essays about a time in their lives when they had ostracized someone; this memory of being unkind was intended to prime their personal sense of immorality—and make them feel guilty. A control group merely wrote about a routine event in their lives.

Afterward, the scientists told some of the volunteers—both “immoral” volunteers and controls—to stick their hand into a bucket of ice water and keep it there as long as they could. Others did the same, only with a soothing bucket of warm water. Finally, all the volunteers rated the pain they had just experienced—if any—and they completed an emotional inventory that included feelings of guilt.

The idea was to see if immoral thinking caused the volunteers to subject themselves to more pain, and if this pain did indeed alleviate their resulting feelings of guilt. And that’s exactly what the researchers found. Those who were primed to think of their own unethical nature not only kept their hands in the ice bath longer, they also rated the experience as more painful than did controls. What’s more, experiencing pain did reduce these volunteers’ feelings of guilt—more than the comparable but painless experience with warm water.

According to the scientists, although we think of pain as purely physical in nature, in fact we imbue the unpleasant sensation with meaning. Humans have been socialized over ages to think of pain in terms of justice. We equate it with punishment, and as the experimental results suggest, the experience has the psychological effect of rebalancing the scales of justice—and therefore resolving guilt.

Guilt is one emotion that can be absolved by the self-administration of pain. I wouldn’t be surprised if pain lessened the burden of other negative emotions as well. My cutter lover may have felt guilt about spending the best years of her life with a man who gave no hint of driving the relationship toward a marital resolution, and being unable to extricate herself because of her attachment to me. Or she may have just been a naturally depressive person, inherited from some long ago depressed ancestor, and cutting was her cheap Prozac.

The most important lesson I took away from that relationship was that cutters are a great lay. I now look for the telltale signs on all first dates. If the cuts are on her face, I know she’ll be wearing no panties underneath her skirt and will be ready to fuck in an alleyway before we’re even halfway home.

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DSK And False Rape Accusations

The rape case against DSK is falling apart because the accuser’s story isn’t adding up. She’s inconsistent and contradicting herself, according to prosecutors who are now debating whether to go forward with the charge.

Back in May, I wrote, in connection with the accuser’s statement that she was orally raped:

Is it even possible to mouth rape without some modicum of consent? Women have teeth; they could just chomp down.

I had a suspicion this story was fishy from the get-go. Feminists (of course!) will claim otherwise, that mouth rape is a plausible criminal offense, but the more plausible belief is that forcing your dick into an *unwilling* woman’s mouth is a dangerous sport and liable to get it bitten off. Or at least nicked, which is pretty damned painful on the sensitive penis shaft.

So the fact that this Guinean woman claimed to be mouth raped immediately roused me to disbelief. Roused, baby! And now it seems my initial gut reaction was correct: the bitch be lyin’. The fact that she was a foreign national also fueled my suspicions. Contrary to popular conception, the world isn’t full of Anglo-Germanic proto-Americans ready to be assimilated without incidence into the glorious melting pot.

False rape accusations seem to be on the rise. I remember reading a startling factoid somewhere that fully 50% of all rape charges are false. Can anyone dig up the data? I’d be curious if the trendline on FRAs is rising.

This is not to say that alpha males never do bad shit. When you are king of the world, you start to believe your turds are gold-plated, and nothing can touch you. DSK probably did something bad that nevertheless didn’t cross the rape line. But women are manipulative little creatures given the right incentives, and those who aren’t in love know they can leverage a wealthy and famous alpha male’s vices into personal gain and profit. This doesn’t happen as often as it could, because women involved with alpha males are usually in love with them, the power of being alpha and the influence it has on women’s feelings being what it is. It’s the loveless whores that alphas need to be wary of. (Paging Tiger Woods.) My suggestion to alpha males: If you’re gonna fuck around with the help and the strippers, throw them a bone occasionally. Tell her she smells nice, and you smiled when you thought about her today.

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