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Archive for the ‘The Pleasure Principle’ Category

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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In the “Picking up married women” post, I commented that an indeterminate number of happily married women will go out of their way to avoid the temptation to infidelity, and will extend this courtesy to their boyfriends and husbands.

Some happily married women (read: married women still sexually aroused by their husbands) avoid the company of sexually appetitive men or of high status men capable of stimulating the sexual appetites of women. Often, this avoidance is achieved simply by not going to places where a lot of single huntsmen congregate. And, married women will try to introduce the temptation-resisting wonders of avoidance to their husbands, by preventing them from being too frequently in the company of young single ladies. Moving to the suburbs helps a lot with this avoidance program.

Commenter Euro Death Knot astutely notes the corollary to the above observation, and illustrates it from personal anecdotes as the “other man” having an affair with a cheating wife:

The converse of this principle is that a married woman traveling alone is a strong indication of potential interest.

I first learned this long ago when I was a college kid who knew nothing and was traveling on my own in Europe. I spent a night in a youth hostel in the Netherlands and approached an attractive German woman (5+ years older than I was) who was taking a vacation bike trip on her own across Holland. While I had taken only one year of German and her English was just a bit better than my German, it was easily less than 2 hours from me saying hi until I was finger fucking her and she was giving me a hand job, all of this in an open-air loft above the hostel’s dining room with some people milling below us.

It was only the next day when we met up to take the same train to Köln (her to go home and me to crash for a few days with a girl I had approached, made out with and address-closed in a park in München who was studying and living in Köln) that I paid attention to the fact that the ring she was wearing was on her ring finger and I realized that she was married. She told me that her husband traveled a lot and she felt that he had been sleeping around.

I can still see in my mind’s eye how affectionately she embraced her husband who was waiting for her at the train station (never mind that she had pulled out my cock again on the train ride). A couple of years ago I Googled her and discovered that decades later she’s still married (with the same name and close to the same address so presumably to the same man) and has three grown children.

If a wife is traveling alone without her husband, there’s often a reason.

Three lessons:

1. A wife or girlfriend who does not make pained efforts to avoid circumstances rife with illicit sexual invitation is by default a woman seeking them out.

2. The average woman is very good at hiding her infidelity from suspicion. Much better, from what I’ve seen, than the concealment the average man is capable of summoning when guilt is ripping at the soul. I conclude that men feel guilt and loyalty more palpably than do women. The exception to this rule is the accomplished cad, whose years of deception and nurtured sociopathy have honed in him a jewel thief’s skill at evading detection.

3. Even with the best intentions, a taken woman is still human, and an abundance of charming men in her social or work environment will test her limits of self-abnegation, much like a convention of 19-year-old lingerie models with daddy issues will test a devoted husband’s and father’s vows. It’s no coincidence that female infidelity rose at the same time as female participation in the workforce, and hence female exposure to alpha male movers and shakers, increased.

My suggestion: If you want a guarantee that your beloved won’t stray, get her off the cock grid. Rural Montana perhaps. Facsimiles of cock grid escape used to be simpler undertakings, but that all changed with [X], [EX], and [XXX].

The next best option? Game.

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First Things peers into the playroom of women’s minds and discovers that women really LOVE LOVE LOVE dominant alpha males and are BORED BORED BORED by beta males, when they aren’t HATE HATE HATING them. Has First Things been visiting the Chateau? Yes.

[W]hat are fans of the Fifty Shades series seeking?

One answer is that there’s a hunger that’s not being satisfied: Namely, for men who are unabashedly masculine, who aren’t afraid to take control, and to lead. That is, there’s a longing (even a lusting) for men who aren’t afraid of what’s classically been called “headship.” To this end, while Fifty Shades subverts Christian sexual morality, it subverts the modern crusade for “genderlessness” all the more.

For the past forty years, there’s been a concerted effort to minimize or eliminate the sexual differences between men and women. The sought-after utopia is the “truly equal world” envisioned by Lean In author Sheryl Sandberg, in which “women [run] half our countries and companies and men [run] half our homes.” According to this view (and contrary to the scientific data), the differences between the sexes are merely social constructs: the culture is to blame for women being feminine and men being masculine.

The funny thing about “Fifty Shades” is that I doubt the female author set out to subvert “genderlessness”. Rather, she set out to write a book with themes that she knew would be arousing for women to read, because those themes are arousing to her. It’s female hindbrains all the way down (to the vaj).

A reader responds with an optimistic take:

Chicks dig assholes, sure.

But women are aroused by male strength, even when the man is not an asshole.

If people want a moral regeneration of the USA then the key is to restore masculine strength as a virtue to be cultivated and admired.

Good luck with that. Every Western culture vector is pointing to more androgynes of either sex. Have you seen a manboobed new atheist or an iron-jawed feminist lately? They’re everywhere. Have you seen them get raked over the coals by the Hivemind, as a lesson for the others? I haven’t. Rehabilitating these sexless wonders will be like squeezing healthy sperm from a brony. Their anti-human abasement is enabled and encouraged by the megaphonies.

This is possible but will be difficult.  On the positive side, there is a pent up demand there that dares not speak its name.

Exalting masculine strength NECESSARILY means discrediting feminism and trannyism and all the other degenerate freak mafia -isms. The former cannot COEXIST with any of the latter.

(And the PLAYA, echoing St. Augustine, says, yes, ok, sure, some day, but not too soon, maybe in a decade or two, in time for me to retire in safety and comfort, but not yet, the women have to stay loose for a while  … .)

I believe women are aroused by assholes qua assholes because assholes are, above all, INTERESTING men. They aren’t like the mediocre masses of rapidly feminizing beta males. You want masculine, virtuous men of the West? The path to that nirvana is blazed by the swashbuckling assholes.

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This post is presented “as is”, with neither editorial condemnation nor endorsement. Read at your own risk.

There are scores of CH posts in the archives dealing with game for married men: How to (re)seduce your wife, and how to seduce applicants for mistresshood. But there aren’t many posts about picking up married women. An odd oversight, or a tribute to a latent moral code in the heart of CH?

Nevertheless, we feel it is important to give it all to the reader: The light, the dark, and the chaotic. To shy from forbidden topics would be a refutation of everything the Heartiste abides.

Will writes,

this is what I do if they are married or have BFs (you’d be surprised how many girls wear fake rings to weed out the weak.)

Anyway, the line is simple

Alpha-In-Training:” so, let’s grab a drink sometime.”

Cougar: “Oh! That’s so sweet, but I’m engaged, see my ring?”

AiT: “Hey, it’s just coffee”
::hands her the phone with the ‘New Contact’ screen already open::

C: “I shouldn’t…”

AiT: “How about this, I’ll shoot you a text and you can think it over.”

Works like a charm.
The above does two things. It demonstrates that you are persistent and get what you want. Secondly, she has plausible deniability. You’ve given her jiminy cricket a way to justify her giving out her number.
It sails right past any objections in a smooth manner.

The “it’s just coffee” and “I’ll shoot you a text and you can decide.” win 80% of the time.

I’m of the belief, perhaps optimistic, that a married woman truly, deeply in love with her husband cannot be seduced to betrayal. If I’m right, the problem remains: Just how many married women truly, deeply love their husbands? In this diversifying, slut parading, trust-cratering society we call a nation, vows of fidelity seem quaint. How many wives would you trust to uphold their end of a marital contract when every signal and every noise encourages female empowerment through perfidy?

Will is basically correct about the two premises that must be established when picking up married women. One, you’ve got to foresee and neutralize objections. This is obvious. Married women aren’t going to jump to pressure tactics. It’s too easy for them to lean on the crutch of their back-at-home hubbies when the heat comes between their legs. This means, in practice, giving her hamster a lotta room to spin. You’ll be courtly aloof, but with white hot sexual intent communicated all the same.

Two, all you need is her number. Unless she’s aggressively seeking an excuse to cheat, an insta-date isn’t likely an option. Secure her digits, then text her once later, maybe even a few days later, so that the temptation to sin simmers in her.

The happily married woman can’t be “taken with extreme prejudice” like the single woman. She will need to feel like she’s exercising some control over the proceedings, and she will need to feel like she can walk at any time.

On a related subject, a buddy I knew sometimes wore a fake wedding ring when he departed for the hunt. The first time he did this, I told him it was counterproductive. Surely, most girls will balk at getting hit on by a married man? He smiled, and said, “I have a line with this ring. ‘Oh, I’m not married. I just wear this ring to scare away stalker girls.’ Or I say, ‘It keeps away unwanted attention.’ It really messes with their heads. It’s like when hot girls sometimes wear fake wedding rings so they don’t get bothered by guys all the time. I’m telling them the same thing, except with the sexes reversed.”

magistro meo, mi amice…

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Tucked in the CH archives is a seminal (heh) post on the subject of male sexual pleasure and how it relates to women’s hotness. It was titled “Hotter Women, Better Sex” and it scandalized neophyte ears, and provoked knowing nods from romantically experienced players.

I suspect the people who think that men chase hot girls the most feverishly so as to lord it over other men have an agenda. They want to believe that human nature is not immutable; that with the right amount of peer pressure and fist-shaking at the media juggernaut men’s desires can be altered — tamed — to accommodate their conceit. And pride is malleable where thermonuclear blasts of lust are not.

If, on the other hand, men pursue the best-looking women at the behest of hidden compulsions buried deep in the reptilian cores of their brains, then there is nothing can be done to change this fact of manhood and what it means for less attractive girls.

How your body responds to a woman during sex tells the tale. The hotter I find the girl, the better the sex is, all else being equal.

What followed was a jizzbomb chart positively correlating a woman’s attractiveness with the liquid volume and ejection force of a man’s ejaculation.

Not satisfied with field observations, undersexed nerds demanded SCIENCE. It was supplied:

Slimmer Women’s Waist is Associated with Better Erectile Function in Men Independent of Age.

Previous research has indicated that men generally rate slimmer women as more sexually attractive, consistent with the increased morbidity risks associated with even mild abdominal adiposity. To assess the association of women’s waist size with a more tangible measure of perceived sexual attractiveness (as well as reward value for both sexes), we examined the association of women’s age and waist circumference with an index of men’s erectile function (IIEF-5 scores), frequency of penile-vaginal intercourse (PVI), and sexual satisfaction in a representative sample of Czechs (699 men and 715 women) aged 35-65 years. Multivariate analyses indicated that better erectile function scores were independently associated with younger age of self and partner and women’s slimmer waist. PVI frequency was independently associated with women’s younger age and women’s slimmer waist. Sexual satisfaction was independently associated with men’s younger age and slimmer waist for both sexes. Better erectile function, greater PVI frequency, and greater sexual satisfaction were associated with women’s slimmer waist, independently of both sexes’ ages. Possible reasons for the waist effects were discussed, including women’s abdominal body fat decreasing their own desire through neurohormonal mechanisms and decreasing their partner’s desire through evolutionarily-related decreased sexual attractiveness.

The vigor of the splitter is the smack of the fact. An hourglass-shaped, slender young woman is nature’s viagra, yohimbe, and horny goat weed compound, delivered with a hit of Ecstasy.

Interestingly, there’s a female version of the CH “hotter women = better sex” formula. Reader RosieOnMaChest stumbles on it:

Asshole game!

Women really do behave differently in bed with alphas and betas.

Since adopting a more alpha persona, around 5 years ago. Apart from upping the standard of women I let into my life, I’ve found one other very unexpected bonus…. Sex is a whole lot better and a whole lot wilder.

Once a woman assesses you as alpha, there seems to be almost nothing she won’t do to please you in bed. Two of the current plates have started sticking their tongues into my asshole . Kind of shocked me at first but I guess it’s just a sign of the times.

Sign of the hinds.

This is what I call the “More Alpha = Better Sex” formula, and a chart should help clarify exactly what it measures.

First, an explanation of the variables.

“Moan strength” is the loudness of the woman’s sex moans. Obvi.

“Shakes strength” is how much control over her body the woman loses during lovemaking.

“Pliability” is the woman’s willingness to indulge the man’s sexual fantasies, no matter how freakish.

Presenting… the handy dandy alpha maleness-to-female pleasure chart:

status of man      moan strength           shakes strength        pliability
omega dreg         sounds of silence       zen stoicism             she calls the shots
omega                grunt of annoyance    she can multitask     carbonite rigidity
greater omega    disguised wince         stilted pelvic grind    100 “no”s, 1 “yes”
lesser beta          1db college try          did a muscle tense?   it’s your birthday!
pubertal beta     10dbs (cat meow)      0.1 second toe curl   it’s our anniversary!
beta                   20dbs (puppy yap)     brief shiver               pre-coital BJ
striver beta        30dbs (dog bark)        1 back scratch          doggy style
greater beta      50dbs (black woman)  10 back scratches      mirrors
lesser alpha     70dbs (2 black women)  leg tourettes             cameras
alpha                100dbs (corvette)      dog shitting peach pit   chandelier
supraalpha        150dbs (jet engine)     call a sexorcist         “i am your slave”

There are many reasons for a man to learn game and ascend the ladder of alpha maleness, but one goes unmentioned far too often: The better your game, the more pleased your women will be with your sexual healing.

 

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