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Archive for the ‘The Pleasure Principle’ Category

Commenter irishsavant puzzles over a seeming contradiction at the core of Game philosophy.

I acknowledge that I haven’t taken a formal course in Heartisteology but surely there’s a blatant contradiction here. How do you square the primacy of a woman’s need to be desired with the dismissive treatment inherent in the Alpha game plan which seems to be the only way to win a woman’s heart?

The contradiction is neatly resolved once you accept the essential conflict of women’s romantic longing for the desirable man who will deny the prerogatives of his own desirability to embrace monogamous commitment to her.

Women need the desire of a man who is himself desired. This contingency is responsible for much of the contradictory nature of female intention that befuddles inexperienced men. Yes, a woman loves the idea of the man so struck by lust that he loses control around her, and yet she knows that a man’s lustful abandon means nothing if he surrenders himself to any willing provocation. His surrender means so much more when it’s wrested after a string of battlefield victories, and his self-pride is at its zenith.

This is the impetus for the female attraction to men who walk the line between strong sexual intent and cavalier dismissiveness. To solicit a woman, then push her away, then coyly reconsider, repeated as necessary and with emphasis at each step added or removed according to its reception, until the passionate coda, is the formula for winning seductions.

A woman wants to be desired and taken, but she also wants to feel like she, alone among women, is capable of inflaming that desire, and what better proof of her power to arouse and capacity to awaken well-fed beasts to the hunt than the beast’s initially cagey appraisal of her worth as prey?

Executive Summary: Male desire is a conflagration. Female desire is tinder waiting for a match.

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Readers sometimes ask, “CH, if you were imprisoned in a cage of domesticity, how would you deal with the cramping of your style? What would do when your old lady is a faint echo of her former pumpworthy glory?” I’ve always half-glibly said, “liquor and hookers”. Now a reader happily affirms the essential ingredients of the CH recipe for the good life. We’ll call it CAP:

Careerism, Alcoholism, Promiscuity.

drunicusrex writes,

Careerism plus functioning alcoholism plus promiscuity is perfectly fine in men, so long as they support their families well, and raise strong, intelligent children.

It’s also very possible as a married man to enjoy a few drinks, keep a mistress discreetly, and be a fine father.

Most every wife will peter out eventually, in either looks or libido (often both) and yet a strong, successful guy is supposed to give up sex after two or three kids pop out?
I think not.

Careerism, alcoholism, and eat pray fuck are disastrous in women. That shit ends marriages PDQ, and certainly trashes any maternal or parental instincts. Fuck that. Women who act like men make truly ghastly moms. (And stay at home Dads getting in touch with their metro side are questionable to say the least.)

Traditional sex roles = happiness.

So now wifey is falling asleep in the couch. Earlier from outside the window I saw some college girls heading out for St Pat’s stroll past our yard, towards the bars and shops around the corner.

Our little resort/college town does, in fact, have nearly as many temptations as any big coastal city.
But I have things to do at work tomorrow ….
perhaps I’ll just go out for one or two….

Executive summary: You reverse the sexual polarities at your peril and great risk to your family.

A self-confident culture on the upswing features a lot of men following the CAP formula for happiness. A few drinks, a young pretty mistress, and a diligently pursued passion (which could be a career or a hobby) is the secret sauce that inspirits men and motivates them to continue providing for their dutiful wives and paternally assured kids.

But, a sickly, self-negating culture on the downswing reverses this formula. Men become women and women become men. All sorts of crap flows outward from that toxic strew.

Careerist men: Strong, attractive, admirable.
Careerist women: Unfeminine, bitchy, untrustworthy.

Imbibing men: Fun, charming, sociable.
Imbibing women: Slutty, crass, poor mothers.

Promiscuous men: Happy, contented, appreciative.
Promiscuous women: Deranged, restless, divorce risks.

You’ve been warned.

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Rollo comments, concerning the de-stigmatization of polyamory subject,

Making Up for Missing Out:

On a social scale it seem like the next deductive next step – blend a justifiable Eat Pray Love narrative with the more visceral (yet unignorable) sexuality of 50 Shades and women will readily consume it. I expect there will be the same hamster spinnings of NAWALT and most women respect their marriage vows, but it still wont wash with the overwhelming ‘guilty pleasure’ popularity that 50 Shades exposed on a large scale.

Writers like Rinaldi and E.L. James have tapped into the Alpha Fucks / Beta Bucks anxiety rooted in women’s primal insecurity inherent in doubting their optimization of Hypergamy. If appealing to visceral sex sells products to men, appealing to the inherent ‘you-only-live-once’ insecurity of feminine Hypergamy sells to women – and women being the primary consumers in western society, sell it does.

EatPrayGetPumpedAndDumped plus 50 Shades is the event horizon of civilizational decadence and decline. Once that Boobicon is crossed, it’s a rapid swirl down the toilet bowl. Give women the run of the place and the Swirl is the inevitable result.

I believe the Roman Empire in its waning years was also marked by sexual libertinism, especially of their women. Weimar Germany, too, before its rebirth under a patriarchal epoch which unfortunately insufficiently and belatedly weeded out the psychopaths who are otherwise so crucial to the early stages of revolution, welcomed the indignities of wanton women pursuing the alpha fux/beta bux (sometimes not even bothering with the beta bux) lifestyle.

A telling societal signal of imminent collapse is the glorification and commercialization of the worst instincts of women, and the denigration of the best instincts of men. Our women become like men, and our men like women, until an androgynous slop characterizes an empire wheezing its last.

For a small but portentous example of this radical change, just read the title of the latest attention whore du jour’s memoir: “The Wild Oats Project”. Sowing one’s wild oats used to be the prerogative of men, or at least the excusable offense of men, and this was widely understood by men and women. Now the modern aggrocunt and her mewling manlet sidekick want to assume the wild oats mantle for aging hags and urban brunchettes, while denying the same fun to men whose testes haven’t yet climbed north to hibernate.

The cultural message is unmistakable: The clit is the new cock. But this message is wrapped in a fairy tale with a very dark ending. Women can no more play the man’s game than men can play the woman’s game. Not for long, at any rate, and not without a gnawing unhappiness that corrodes the soul.

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From an American Sociological Review research paper, 💋SCIENTISTS💋 (as opposed to feminist “””scientists”””) discover that egalitarian marriages — ones where in practice husbands shoulder a significant amount of the household chores traditionally the province of wives — are arid, sexless wastelands.

This article began by noting that American marriages are more egalitarian today than they were in the past, but scholars have found it difficult to offer a clear interpretation of how egalitarianism has changed the nature of marriage itself. One broad interpretation of egalitarianism is that couples exchange resources across various domains. Moves toward more equality in one area, such as earnings, might thus induce more equal distributions in other areas, like housework, a suggestion that has certainly received extensive investigation. In this article, we asked whether men and women use housework and sex as resources for exchange, or whether other logics govern sexual frequency within marriage.

Following up on the widely publicized claim that by doing more housework, husbands in more egalitarian marriages got more sex, we sought to investigate the links between men’s participation in housework and sexual frequency using nationally representative data. Our findings suggest the importance of gender display for sexual frequency in heterosexual marriage: couples where men participate more in core tasks—work typically done by women—report lower sexual frequency. Similarly, couples where men participate more in non-core, traditionally masculine tasks report higher sexual frequency, suggesting the importance of gender-typed participation in household labor. Additionally, although our main results examined core and non-core labor separately, we note that regressions using the share of total housework (core and non-core combined) also show a negative and significant coefficient for men’s share of housework.

Game, set, match, Sheryl “Lying Shrike” Sandberg. Doing more women’s work in the home will NOT improve a husband’s sex life, as you feminist creeps assert. It will result in the opposite: A gradual weakening of the sexual polarity until a unisexual listlessness consumes the relationship in a quellfire of anhedonia.

Any male feminist who at this point still claims that chipping in with the housework will make his wife happier and their sex life hotter is just fooling himself. Or rationalizing his abject supplication to an overbearing shrew. Housework doesn’t lubricate vagina; acting a dominant man with dropped testes who’d rather swing a splitter than scrub a toilet is what turns on women.

These results—whether using both men’s and women’s reports in a pooled analysis, relying on opposite spouses for reports of our key variables, or relying on men’s or women’s results alone—show that households with a more gender-traditional division of labor report having more sex. The pattern of results suggests the existence of a gendered set of sexual scripts, in which the traditional performance and display of gender is important for creation of sexual desire and performance of sexual activity.

Sex-traditional division of labor is sexy because, stop the presses, masculinity in men is attractive to women and femininity in women is attractive to men.

Many confounding variables were accounted for in the paper, including overall marital happiness, religion, and sex ideology. None of them mediated the housework-sex frequency interaction. Men who did more girly chores got less nookie; men who did less girly work and more manly outdoors work got more nookie. Women who did more girly work got more nookie; women who did more manly work did no see a change in their sex frequency.

(The bottleneck variable appears to be the type of work that men do. As long as the husband is the whip-hand, the wife will desire him, regardless how much non-core housework she does.)

The lack of interactions or mediation lends support, we argue, to the notion that the operating mechanism is one that links within-couple displays of masculinity and femininity to sexual scripts leading to sexual frequency. […]

Men or women may, in essence, be turned on (however indirectly) when partners in a marriage do more gender-traditional work. Of course, men and women could also be turned off by doing work that is not traditional for their gender.

Feminists and their down-filled male lackeys trying to convince people that women “leaning in” like men, and men “cleaning in” like women, will heat up the bedroom are fighting a losing battle. Because no matter how much propaganda the Hivemind Hatemachine churns out, there’s simply no substitute for the rude reality-based imperatives that harden dicks and slicken pussies.

At the very least, our results are difficult to reconcile with the idea that women trade sex to men for doing what is traditionally viewed as women’s work. Based on our findings, sex seems to lie outside the realm of conventional exchange.

Why do feminists argue against common sense? Why are feminists anti-pleasure? Why do feminists loathe male prerogative? One answer has to do with the intrinsic character of feminists. Most feminists like Sheryl Sandberg are masculinized women, in body and/or in psyche. This deformity of nature arouses their bitterness and motivates their desire to upend normal society to not just acknowledge, but exalt, their peculiar disposition. A psychologically manly broad like Sandberg is nothing like the majority of women, but that leetle inconvenience doesn’t stop her from trying to poison sex relations and rework society to assuage her low-E ego.

The importance of gender has declined over time, but it continues to exert a strong influence over individual behaviors, including sexual frequency within marriage.

Clarification: The importance of gender as a matter of legal redress has increased over time, but despite these immense social and legal pressures to obliterate any differences between the sexes the natural and evolved compulsions deriving from our gender continue to have the final say over individual behaviors, including sexual frequency within marriage.

***

Executive summary: As per usual, non-feminist science shits in feminist faces and slobbers kisses all over the Chateau Heartiste worldview. To preen, or not to preen… that is a silly question. *preen*

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There’s a new(ly identified) attractiveness standard by which women are relentlessly judged for sexual, romantic, and yes, marital worth: The swayback. Reader Experienced Father passes along the relevant study.

This paper reports independent studies supporting the proposal that human standards of attractiveness reflect the output of psychological adaptations to detect fitness-relevant traits. We tested novel a priori hypotheses based on an adaptive problem uniquely faced by ancestral hominin females: a forward-shifted center of mass during pregnancy. The hominin female spine possesses evolved morphology to deal with this adaptive challenge: wedging in the third-to-last lumbar vertebra. Among ancestral women, vertebral wedging would have minimized the net fitness threats posed by hypolordosis and hyperlordosis, thereby creating selective pressures on men to prefer such women as mates. On this basis, we hypothesized that men possess evolved mate preferences for women with this theoretically optimal angle of lumbar curvature. […]

Men again tended to prefer women exhibiting cues to a degree of vertebral wedging closer to optimum. This included preferring women whose lumbar curvature specifically reflected vertebral wedging rather than buttock mass. These findings reveal novel, theoretically anchored, and previously undiscovered standards of attractiveness.

The optimal swayback looks like the middle female silhouette:

The woman with no swayback too closely resembles a prepubescent boy. The woman with excessive swayback looks like a scoliotic whore who spent too may nights leaning into the open car windows of johns. The woman in the middle is juuuuuust tight.

It’s theorized that women with a 45 degree curvature of the lower spine are best adapted for squatting on their haunches and foraging for food. Over time, men would’ve come to prefer this female body shape because it indicated better fitness at the job of gathering nuts, berries, and other huthold objects.

I don’t know if this study controlled for race, but I bet one that does would find that the male preference for swayback is more cross-racially universal than is the male preference for bloated booty, which black men favor more.

Anyhow, more lab confirmation of the CH formulations based on real-world observations that biomechanics is god, love is a tender effusion stimulated in men by small adjustments in the geometric contours of the female face and body, and feminists are butthurt loons.

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Have you noticed the dearth of original ideas coming out of Hollywood? The problem is that a good idea needs a companion in the truth. And our culture has turned violently away from the truth. Consequently, novel ideas in all art forms are getting rarer.

Reader PA suggests a Crimson Pill movie idea that’s both fresh and honest.

I wonder if rape victims who experienced orgasms mid rape were capable of having vaginal orgasms in their normal lives.

You’re writing a screenplay for a drama/thriller involving a normal, happily married woman who was just brutally raped and came hard in the throes of the assault. Her husband is a normal blue-pill greater beta who suddenly finds her unable to have vaginal sex. The husband goes through tears and frustration, and self-defeating attempts at being “supportive” and then finds a crimson arts blog and makes a plan to transform himself into a Love-Heisenberg, to save the marriage.

Do you simply graft the script of “9 and 1/2 Weeks” from here on, or is there another approach?

Throw in a paint-by-numbers overcredentialed marriage counselor, a spiteful feminist BFF, and an undersexed white knight friend of the husband who secretly desires his wife, and you’ve got yourself boffo box office!

By the way, Fifty Shades of Grey, if you don’t already know, is a complete rip-off of the vastly superior Mickey Rourke-Kim Bassinger erotic movie Nine 1/2 Weeks. Ferkrissake, the male lead’s character name in Nine 1/2 is “John Gray”. I’m surprised critics have failed to note the similarities. It’s canny enough that the producers of Nine 1/2 (and the writer of the book on which the movie is based) have grounds to sue the fat pig who wrote Fifty Shades.

Bassinger’s character, Elizabeth, in Nine 1/2 also falls for a badboy with a sadistic streak. (Girls can’t help themselves.) There is a rape scene in which Elizabeth has a powerful orgasm. She is both bewildered and entranced by her body’s betrayal of her good sense. The movie has a sort of audience-stroking happy ending, when Elizabeth, deeply in love with John but emotionally broken by his intensifying manipulations (he has her watch a prostitute service him in a hotel room), leaves him, but in so doing turns her back on a piece of her womanhood. There’s a subtext that she will never joyously submit to that kind of fiery passion again.

(John should’ve balanced all that anxiety-inducement with some comfort. Game 101, man!)

Personally, I would take PA’s idea and make a feint toward a Nine 1/2 Weeks conclusion, except with a Walter White Breaking Badboy twist: The greater beta husband, upon elevating himself as the dominant force in his wife’s life and finally in a position to save their marriage (ironically via a route that mirrors his wife’s confusing rape experience), opts instead to succumb to the temptations of his reinvention. I’d also change the deus ex machina from a blog to a player buddy, or perhaps to a death row inmate with a pile of marriage proposals from adoring female fans. Internet-hemmed epiphanies don’t play well on screen.

Submission to a man worthy of it is engraved in a woman’s soul. She will deny it, the Hivemind will deny it, the pedestal-polishing plushboys will deny it as they politely discuss financial outlooks over the din of insistent pleat-imprisoned chubbies in sterile offices with gogrrl droids in pencil skirts, but when the blinds are closed and the darkness descends, every woman will arch her back to meet the lovely, exquisite pain of an icy caress.

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Reader Mitch Cumstein tells thee of his saga, of his days of thigh adventure!

When I was 17, I worked for this magazine as a summer job. They hired this 30-something lady to be the face of the company in its adverts. Striking for her age. HB9. No one at work dared flirt with her, because she was “married”. However, I knew she was game when I realized 1. Her husband reeked of beta and 2. She accepted every invite to hang after work at the bars. She even rallied the troops most of the time, which is a dead giveaway.

Anyway, another coworker was getting married and HB9 RSVPd with no plus one (another sign), her husband was out of town (another) and she invited us all to come over and drink at her house after the wedding (!!!).

I was 17…the office loved me and I could see she was seeing the affection everyone had for me. People sneaking me drinks, etc. It was an “honorable little brother” type love, and she took notice. She tried chiding me at her house. “Those dance moves you had on the dance floor were inappropriate…” Agreed and amplified (“yup”, “were they? i was too caught up in the rhythm to notice”). I remember she asked, “What do all these coworkers see in you anyway?” And I was buzzed enough to say, “I’d show you, but I probably wouldn’t be invited to your husband’s birthday party if I did.” Her tongue was planted firmly in her cheek. Within five minutes, we were making out and I was fingering her.

She clears everyone out of the house. I tell everyone to go on ahead, I’m going back to get my jacket. When I opened the door, she was standing there, ass naked. She walked into her room and I followed. When we got there, I stopped. Most men would’ve gone ahead, but I realized: THIS IS TOO EASY. It was low-hanging fruit. So I kissed her on the head and made my exit.

The next morning, I get a call on my phone from her. Except when I answer, it’s her husband. He tells me to meet him outside a pizzeria a mile from my house. I go and he’s standing there, pretending to be stoic.

Him: You son of a bitch…
Me: Present.
Him: You are scum…
Me: Yup.
Him: Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?
Me: Well…I didn’t fuck your wife…but the next guy will.

That one hit him like a sledge hammer. It was too true to deny. I guess they’d moved around a lot together, which is why they came to our town in the first place. My friends tell me he didn’t kick my ass because I was 17 and he’d be embarrassed to explain it all if he had to, but I disagree. He actually thanked me before taking off. “Thank you for being so honest,” was what he said. He was THAT beta. They were divorced within a year.

The next day at work, I was stocking sodas and the HB9 dropped a gift bag at my feet with a smile. Inside it were my sunglasses. I left them in his bedroom and that’s how he found out. It wasn’t even that she told him out of guilt; the guy found a pair of sunglasses in his room and had her dead to rights.

The takeaway: you grow up thinking married women are hard to snag, but in reality, they’re easier. It’s because most are lonely. Have relations with them or don’t, but if you do…don’t forget your sunglasses.

Bored wives are cheating wives, in heart if not in pussy. And where a woman’s heart goes, her hole is sure to follow.

Women complain that they have to keep up their looks so their husband’s eyes don’t stray, but they fail to recognize the tougher job men must undertake to keep the interest of their wives…. omnipresent charm and sexiness, to be called upon at will and dispensed in precise degrees of need as with a chemist’s skilled titration hand. The legally entangled husband’s job is made tough by the nature of women’s demands, which are psychological outgrowths of the fundamental premise. The job is tougher still in a social environment which has unleashed and sanctioned the most primitive animal instincts of women, and which offers women endless opportunities for financial and emotional exploit through the feminism-directed man-loathing divorce industrial complex.

PS I understand that there will be the usual readers who disbelieve this story. CH is not interested in the after-school job of parsing lines of code in reader-submitted anecdotes for evidence of fantasy, but we can tell you from experience that stories similar to Mitch Cumstein’s are common enough to warrant testimonial status, even if the specific, and probably poorly recalled, dialogue snippets are reconstituted in stilted or hubristic form.

Having stated the above disclaimer, I have to ask Cumstein… why would you agree to meet the husband of your near-hit illicit liaison? Teenage naivete?

PPS If your girlfriend or wife travels without you, the chances she’ll misbehave go way up.

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