The Self-Deception Of The White Knight

The “man” in this story could qualify for Beta of the Year:

It started with one text message: She just wanted to know why he was skipping her class.

But P.E. teacher Michele Taylor’s alleged relationship with a 17-year-old student at East Valley High School escalated quickly after that. From a stolen kiss in her office to sex in the backseat of her husband’s truck in the parking lot behind a Yakima Kmart.

This kid is a natural player. Skipping class = takeaway. Women can’t resist an underage boy playing hard to get.

It all began last March with that first message. Taylor was a mother of triplets and married to Kevin, also a P.E. teacher at East Valley.

Her alleged romantic interest was only 16-years-old when the flirtation started. Over the course of four months, he told a Yakima jury yesterday, he exchanged over 400 text messages with Taylor, some of which were explicit.

Michele Taylor is another one of these hot for teacher blonde cuties betraying her beta hubby to lay with her teen boy students. We’ve had a rash of them in this country lately. Reasonable minds might wonder what is going on. I have a couple of theories. Husbands are more beta than ever, turning off their wives so completely that the deprived dears seek that lost tingly feeling in the nearest devil-may-care cock. And teen boys are carelessly devil-may-care. Another possibility: a subset of teen boys are learning game at a much earlier age than past generations of men, and they are capitalizing on alpha-starved older women. Maybe the use-em-and-lose-em, pimps up hos down player mentality zeitgeist is percolating down into high schools and junior high.

One night the boy was hanging out with his girlfriend when he got a text asking him to meet Taylor at Kmart. “I knew pretty much what was going to happen,” the boy said in testimony reported by the Yakima Herald-Republic.

The boy went anyway. And, he testified, he and Taylor did end up having unprotected sex, since she insisted he didn’t need to worry about a condom unless he had STDs.

If Taylor’s husband has any brains at all, he’ll demand paternity tests on all his current children and any future kids he may have with her.

Speaking of which…. mandatory paternity testing now! It’s the right thing to do, both for individual men and for society.

According to the boy, he drove home that night, got in a shower and cried because he “felt dirty.”

Somebody coached the kid to say that.

Although he lied to his girlfriend and parents initially that anything was going on, he eventually copped to the relationship when it was revealed that another, 15-year-old student was exchanging similar texts with Taylor.

Damn, bitch gets around! Talk about shitting where you work. She may be a classifiable nymphomaniac. Poor kid… you don’t feel so special anymore, do ya?

And now we get to the most nauseating part of the story:

Taylor’s husband, Kevin, meanwhile, denies that his wife engaged in anything inappropriate. The Herald-Republic reports that he came to court wearing a shirt with the words “I Love My Wife” written on it and had to be directed by the judge to quit staring down student witnesses testifying against Taylor.

There are few humiliating degradations a natural born beta will visit upon himself that would surprise me, but this has got to be a new low. “I Love My Wife”!? Could there be a more elegant metaphorical distillation of the wretchedness of self-immolating, soul-shriveling betatude?

Wife carries on text affair with multiple teen boys.
Husband approves of text messages. (“No reason to be suspicious”, he claims.)
Wife accused of statutorily raping one of the boys, with implications there were others.
Husband  shows up in court wearing I love my wife tee, and stares daggers at witnesses daring to besmirch his angelic wife’s reputation.
Wife tingles in her nether region for boy student witnesses, unbeknownst to gallant husband defending her on the stand.

You can see video of the delusional husband here. He certainly has that watery-eyed beta look about the face. The only redeeming explanation for his behavior I can think of is that he, too, is fucking one of his teen girl students and his wife knows, so he is covering for her on threat that she’ll reveal his indiscretions. That would raise my estimation of his character quite a bit.

Why are so many betas capable of such Freudian feats of self-deception when confronted with their wives’ and lovers’ infidelity? I submit that it is fear, at heart, that drives this Stockholm Syndrome-ish mental mutilation. Fear of being outed as the unworthy husband, the duped tool, the cuckold… and fear of being alone, unsexed, and unable to find another woman. Such men cling like barnacles to their fear, and let it direct their every decision and their perception of events, even when the evidence against their delusions is slapping them upside the head. Fear is the natural state of the beta. It is their greatest self-imposed limitation.

Not to mention the stacked deck against men that is the man-hating divorce industry.

Quick to forgive, is the beta. In his forgiveness, he expects redemption and gratitude. Even renewed love. But instead he gets contempt, the pity born of hate.

If he only knew the truth…

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Game Is 50% Not Putting Foot In Mouth

I was chatting up a cute chick when I overheard another pickup in progress right next to me. The guy was projecting his voice loudly so I couldn’t help but hear just about every word he said to the smiling girl who was listening intently to him. I glanced over when I had a moment to myself to observe his success or failure. (While watching other men crash and burn is a visceral pleasure, I also enjoy watching men succeed because, one, I can always learn something new, and, two, I am still amazed how often men in successful pickups utilize game principles even when they don’t know they’re doing that.)

The guy was good-looking and high energy. His body language and voice tone were confident. At one point, when he stepped away to get a beer, the girl’s friend leaned in and I heard her say “Wow, he’s cute.” From my vantage, at least until then, this pickup was his to lose.

Which he did. Back with beer in hand, they continued talking, or rather, he continued talking and punctuating his words with finger jabs into the air, while she listened. And listened. And listened. Agonizing minutes ticked by. The energy was suddenly one-sided with his wild, and panicky, abandon, for he must have noticed her demeanor changing from delight to impassive politeness to confused annoyance. The previous pickup momentum, torqued in large measure simply on the strength of his looks and initial pose of confidence, dissipated with surprising rapidity as his “game” crumbled around him in a heap of monkey dancing, gum flapping, desperate body posturing, and cloying oversmiling. He began leaning into her in a vain effort to compel her to commit to the waning conversation, but she was already one foot out the door as her eyes darted around searching for a friend, a lifeline, to pull her away from this once attractive man. His inner beta had betrayed him.

Finally, denouement. A friend touched her elbow and whispered something in her ear. The guy figured out from her body language she was leaving soon, so he suggested they exchange numbers. Or he might’ve suggested he give her his number, I couldn’t pick up what he said at that point very clearly. She took her phone out and he typed his number into it and gave it back to her. As she was leaving, she didn’t look back at him. (A good test whether a girl will flake on you for a future date is if she looks back at you briefly after you have gotten her number and she is leaving the premises with her friends. No lookback = flake.) But he wasn’t done yet. Still smiling like a tard getting tickled, he shouted at her departing footsteps: “Hey, you better memorize my number!”

Woofa.

It all went down in ten minutes. Let this be a lesson. Very good looks on a man without any game will buy him 30 seconds to ten minutes of an attractive girl’s attention, after which he will be unceremoniously (and disappointedly) discarded just like any regular run of the mill schlub who doesn’t understand the art of seduction. Men need to stop projecting their fascination with looks onto women; personality and alphaness are what electrify a woman’s pleasure center. Good looks can send initial sparks, (and sparks is all it is) but the allure wears quickly without compensatory game to buttress it.

I number closed my girl. I did not tell her I would memorize her number.

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The Unbearable Triteness Of Hating

After three years doing this blog a wearisome predictability in types of hate becomes apparent. The unoriginal uniformity of the hate is its most intriguing feature, as it makes one wonder whether humans come preinstalled with mindware that executes in scripted patterns when certain sensitive buttons are pushed, or if the haters all gather in a secret Hatesonic Temple under the Capitol building to agree upon an approved suite of category hateration.

In the interest of advancing a sociological experiment for the benefit of my amusement alone, I’ve made a compendium of the typical incantations of hate directed at game and at those of us, like yer ‘umble narrator, who preach the Good Word of Game. Below each hate archetype I’ve helpfully included my mischievously glib responses to illustrate the empty-headedness of the hate.

1. “Bitter Beta” Hate

Hater: You are a bitter misogynist.

Translation: Your words make me weep from every pore.

2. Expectation Bias Hate

Hater: No one who writes the horrible things you do could possibly do well with women.

Back in Genghis Khan’s day, haters were known to remark “no one who crushes as many enemies as you do could possibly do well with women.”

3. Moving the Alpha Goalposts Hate

Hater: A real alpha male would be married and raising children as his legacy.

Alphaness required to marry the typical girl and knock her up: minimal.

Alphaness required to avoid the raw deal of marriage and the fun-hindering ballast of children while enjoying the love of many women in long term relationships: sniff my jock strap!

4. StrawHate

Hater: You argue a false alpha/beta dichotomy.

What part of dregs –> lesser omega –> greater omega –> lesser beta –> beta –> greater beta –> lesser alpha –> alpha –> super alpha don’t you understand? (Please note the date stamp of that post.)

5. Etymology Hate

Hater: Your definition of an alpha male is false. In the animal kingdom, the alpha male is leader of the pack, not a cad/badboy/jerk who pumps and dumps women.

Isn’t it just like a nerd to get hysterical over the appropriation of a narrow-sense scientific term to conveniently illustrate broader truths about men and women.

6. Unironic Internet Smear Hate

Hater: Alphas don’t blog. They’re too busy meeting women.

Because, you know, alphas don’t have hobbies. *alpha eye roll*

ps feel free to log off the internet any time.

7. The Political is Personal Hate

Hater: A true alpha lives the life, and does not neurotically obsess about his status on an internet blog.

Other than in a facetious fashion, I don’t think I’ve ever written about my own status, neurotically or otherwise, on this blog. Instead, I simply speak the truth about the world as it is, and give advice about attracting women that has worked for me and many other men. People who are offended by that decide I must be revealing my inner neuroses and obsessions, for any other explanation would surely pucker their sphincters. These people are best suited for careers as buttplug testers.

8. False Premises Hate

Hater: Yeah, sure, game works well for picking up low self-esteem bar skanks.

A great deal of hate is fueled by false premises. Concocting convenient scenarios, imagining the worst of your enemies, and reinterpreting their successes are a salve for the burned ego. Newsflash: your thin-skinned indignation is not my moral crisis.

9. Lifestyle Critique Hate

Hater: You live an empty existence if all you do is have one night stands with sluts.

Some people imagine that because I write about seducing women that must mean I strictly counsel avoiding long term loving relationships in favor of purely physical short term flings. These people are wrong. But they knew that. Of course, that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with the occasional no muss no fuss empty sexual encounter.

10. Gay Love For John Wayne Hate

Hater: If you’re not a leader of men, you’re not an alpha.

I’m sure every male celebrity and emo punk singer drowning in pussy is crying bitter tears that he does not have the alpha imprimatur of Real Men of Stoicism bootlickers like yourself.

11. Rape Hate

Hater: Rape! Rapety-rape!

When all you have is a desiccated, dusty muff, the whole world looks like an unwelcome phallus.

12. Fallacy of Misdirected Obsession Hate

Hater: A guy who spends his life obsessing over how to get women is a loser.

A guy who spends his life obsessing over climbing the corporate ladder to get more attention from women is a loser.
A guy who spends his life obsessing over mastering guitar and playing in a rock band to get more attention from women is a loser.
A guy who spends his life obsessing over pursuing financial rewards and acquiring resources to get more attention from women is a loser.
A guy who….. ah, you get the point.

13. Fallacy of the Natural Hate

Hater: Naturals get women because they aren’t trying to get them.

After many years of practice, I’m sure it looked like Beethoven wasn’t trying when he played piano.
Or: A natural is simply a man whose game is internalized, but the tactics remain the same.

14. Just Be Yourself Hate

Hater: Game is fake.

Game is no less fake than any other self-improvement pursuit to which a man might set himself in order to move upward from his natural inertial state.

15. Victimology Hate

Hater: You’re using game to manipulate women and control their minds.

In other news, losing 20 pounds was discovered to grant formerly chubby girls strange hypnotic powers over the minds of men. Feeling manipulated, men took to the streets en masse to demand relief from their attraction to these newly slender girls.

16. Dancing Monkey Hate

Hater: Men who run game are just doing the bidding of women. Alphas don’t entertain women.

If you want success with women, you are going to have to entertain them… one way or the other. The same is true of women. Once a woman stops entertaining men with her body, her femininity, and her commitment worthiness by getting fat, old, ugly, bitchy, or single mom-y, she stops having success with men. We are all doing the bidding of our biomechanical overlord, and on our knees to his will we surrender, by force or by choice. You fool yourself if you believe you have some plenary indulgence from this stark reality.
Or: If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

17. Voyeur Hate

Hater: You’re lying about the women you’ve had. Where are the photos?

I remember having a conversation with a buddy about this, where I mused aloud about what delicious fun it would be if I went nuclear and posted on this blog erotic jpegs of the women I’ve been with (hi blogger chicks!) over the past three years, (excepting those lovely ladies whose privacy I value more than the others), just to enjoy the exquisite paroxysms of cognitive dissonance that would rattle the souls of the haters who have spent so much mental energy comforting themselves with caricatures of me. He said not to bother. He explained that I could have pics of me facialing a slew of cuties and the haters would still find some excuse for not believing their own eyes. In other words, haters gon’ hate. Let them stew.

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Beta Or Herb?

A running theme on this blog is the frightful sight of herbs and betas performing slow motion self-emasculations. While the herb and the beta are closely related, there are some notable differences between them.

In this post, I defined the herb:

*herb, noun – a schlumpy, nondescript white guy with no fashion sense, chin, or sexual gravitas, who has managed to hook up with a cute chick. Herbs usually wear satchels to nightclubs and button down collar shirts with the Hanes undershirt peaking through at the neck. They love anything khaki and are not embarrassed to be seen wearing fanny packs or sandals. A super herb takes it up a notch with white athletic socks and an extra-large t-shirt to hide his man boobs. They have a walk that can be best described as looking like they are carrying a load in their pants. They will annoy you just by being there. The fact that a herb will have usually managed to score a cute yuppie chick will fill you with violent feelings toward him.

You can see another great photo of a herb here. And here. And here is an example of the subspecies hipster herb.

How does a beta differ from a herb? In this post there is a photo of a beta revealing his true nature with an awkwardly placed hand on a cute girl’s shoulder. The biggest difference is that the herb usually has better *conventionally defined* success with women. The herb is not necessarily beta, though he often is. Many herbs in the city can be seen taking long romantic walks with decent looking girlfriends, defying all logic and universal laws. Herbs, therefore, have some preternatural ability to squeak out a semblance of a normal life, despite their shortcomings. Perhaps it is that they are oblivious to their self-defeating behavior, and so attract the type of women for whom dating an oblivious man suits their agenda.

Betas (and omegas), in contrast, struggle to achieve the societally-approved provider chump role to a sexless, ungrateful, Entitled American Princess. They are a more pitiable creature than the herb because their fruitless struggle often results in the stink of desperation trailing them wherever they go. The herb, to his credit, rarely reeks of desperation (until he is dumped), probably owing to the aforementioned obliviousness. Betas are more apt to look like they’re trying too hard, which is why you’ll often see better-dressed betas roaming the streets alone while schleppy herbs shuffle contentedly holding hands with their girlfriends.

In short, betas are the type of guys to spend years with internet porn and video games, while herbs are the type of guys to dutifully push strollers for kids that, unbeknownst to them, aren’t theirs. In the end, though, both betas and herbs wind up fulfilling their role as soulsucked providers to harridan wives, ensuring that the cogs of society remain greased with the sweat of their brows and the tithe of their taxes.

A few more differences between betas and herbs:

beta – dog
herb – dog in a stroller
beta – worries that wife is cheating on him
herb – has no idea wife is cheating on him
beta – wants to be alpha
herb – has no concept of the better life
beta – envious of men with hotter girfriends
herb – chastises himself for admiring classic beauty of older susan sarandon
beta – resigned
herb – compliant
beta – stymied sex drive
herb – borderline androgynous
beta – brain loaded with lies
herb – pants loaded

Reader Carol (a self-described Amazon alpha female) sent me a pic of what she termed a “beta boy”, shopping in Chicago with his girlfriend.

She wrote this about the pic:

My sister is an avid reader of your blog and she introduced me to it.  I check it out from time to time.

I see Beta Boys all over the city of Chicago. Since I got my new iphone…it only makes sense to try and snap pics of these betas. Unfortunately the iphone does not zoom.  But I’m working on this. [ed: if you’re a beta or herb, now you have more to worry about — chicks taking your photo for mockery on this blog.]

Check out this beta cubs fan wearing his girlfriend’s purse.  I had to do a freaking triple take to be sure he was not gay. No, he was wearing her purse. Following her all around the store as she flipped through racks of clothes. Mind you, this was post Cubs game…so they were probably drunk as well.

Jesus. I would never ask a man to hold my purse.  Let alone a sparkly shining number that announces to everyone your man is carrying your purse.

Yeah, this is pretty bad. For this man’s sake, let’s hope drunkenness was his excuse. It’s not even OK to hold your woman’s purse for a second so she can grab at something (let it drop to the floor or put it on a shelf if she tries to shove her purse in your hands); it’s leagues worse to take her purse and then wear it around like it’s your own, while following her like a puppy dog as she rifles through racks of discount panties. This guy looks very comfortable wearing her purse slung over his shoulder like that, as if he’s done it before.

I would classify this guy as a herb if he sees nothing wrong with this picture. Otherwise, he’s a garden variety beta asking “how high” when his girlfriend tells him to jump.

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The Most Beta Book Ever

Reader Mike sent me a media release for a book signing by a guy named James Henry (a name like that screams old-fashioned white knighter), who authored a book titled “The Laws of Love: A Guide to Gallantry“. Here is an excerpt of the release:

AS COURTSHIP DECLINES, CONCERN FOR CHIVALRY IS ON THE RISE

A New Book The Laws of Love: A Guide to Gallantry, Helps Induce Gallantry.

Book Launch and Signing:  Wednesday February 10th & Sunday, February 14th 2010

[Washington, DC] – In a time when courtship is on the decline and hedonism is on the rise, one gentleman has stood up against the tide with the power of words and seductive suggestion. Washington, DC native James Henry, an author galvanized by the decline of chivalry, announces the release of his new book, The Laws of Love: The Guide to Gallantry,with a reception and book signing on Wednesday, February 10th at ACKC chocolate shop and Saturday and Sunday of Valentine’s weekend (February 13th & 14th) at the newly opened The Tasting Room wine bars in Reston, VA and Friendship Heights.

A contemporary manual, inspired by a 19th century French love guide, gives gallant advice on the art of courtship for today’s love-starved society.

“These days with the instant nature of news and information, few people make the time to read anything in depth, so I felt that good messages could be better conveyed with fun illustrations and humorous maxims.” Consider them “inspiration to greatness” describes Henry.

Next Wednesday, February 10th, in the lead up to Valentine’s Day, Henry will officially release his new publication with a book signing at ACKC, a chocolate shop and café in Logan Circle, Washington, DC. [ed: a chocolate shop and cafe sounds like the perfect venue for a book this emasculating.]

Now I wonder why a 19th century French love guide would recommend chivalry for men? I’m trying to think about how 19th century France differed from 21st century America, but I just can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s a mystery!

I’m not an anti-chivalry crusader. If you want to be Gallant to the world’s Goofuses, go right ahead. You’ll be digging your own celibacy grave, but that’s one less competitor to me. If you live in some weird time warp American town where gallantry will help get you laid with hot babes, then be all the white knight you can be. Game is about doing what works.

But you’ll be working against the odds. Millions of men from all over the world have reached the conclusion through actual experience in the field that opening doors, throwing jackets over puddles, waiting to sit until she’s been seated first, and buying her drinks are tingle killers of the first order. Gallant doesn’t go home with the babe in 2010 America; Gallant watches perplexed as the babe thanks him for the free drink and then make outs with Gus the Inconsiderate Douchebag.

I have a hard time believing that this guy James Henry is a native of DC and still thinks gallantry is what will help men score with DC girls. Either he’s lying for fun and profit, or he’s gay.

About the only reason I could recommend chivalry as a course of action for the typical man would be if we lived in a world where nearly all men stopped indulging women, and white knighters abandoned their lances for a more cynical, self-centered calculation. With chivalry long dead, a lone knight-errant could conceivably stride onto the scene and turn girls’ heads by doing something no other man is doing. In such a scenario, where women theoretically craved the chivalric attentions of men, buying a girl a free drink might actually be good game. But I really don’t see any evidence for this happening at all in our lifetimes. Chivalry is pretty much dead as it is, and girls are still responding positively to “I don’t buy girls drinks, but you can buy me one.”

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MS Paint Windows To The Soul

As a tribute to the regular guests of the Chateau, I’ve honored them with stick figure portraits. Can you match the following MS Paint masterpieces to their eponymous titles in the answer key below?

A:

B:

C:

D:

E:

F:

Answer Key

1. Peter (GNP guy)

2. Single Mom

3. Poetry of Flesh

4. David Alexander

5. Me fleeing from an irate husband

6. Greatbooksformen

***

And here’s a bonus MS Paint! This time, no answer key. Let’s see if you can figure out the title without help.

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Nyah Nyah Nyah I Can’t Hear You!

Funny. A commenter included a link to my blog in the first or second comment to this Slate article about omega males, and Slate deleted it.

“In the end, the truth always wins out – one way or the other.”
– Me

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