Laying Down The Law On Attention Whores

A reader talks about how he trains his slut girlfriend:

I have to credit the Chateau to some degree for what has happened in my relationship over the past week.

A little background: We’ve been dating for about 15 months or so, it’s a pretty serious relationship and I am letting her move in with me starting in January. She’s a solid 8, 5’2″, 100lbs and a great body.

I am currently away for work for the next 7 weeks, and it’s put a bit of a strain on the relationship for the first few weeks of my absence. [ed: if you have hand in the relationship — i.e., she wants you more than you want her, or you have more latent options than she has — a long absence will work in your favor.] This past weekend she said she and her best friend were going to get matching tattoos that they’d been talking about getting for years. They were going to get them on their ankles, which I found to be incredibly trashy looking. I put my foot down and said I did not approve and did not want her to get it. She lashed out initially and got upset, saying she felt like she couldn’t make decisions on her own anymore. I told her simply and succinctly that if she was wanting to be in this type of serious relationship with me that there were boundaries. I stood my ground, and was rewarded. Shortly after, her response was that she was not getting the ankle tattoo…and much love was sent my way.

In previous portions of my life I may not have reacted as confidently and strongly. I give partial credit to this site for waking my ass up. Thank you.

Proving a Chateau maxim, tattoos are a leading indicator of sluttiness. The more garish the tattoo, and the closer the tattoo sits to an erogenous zone, the more likely the wearer has taken the cock carousel for an extended after-hours spin.

But tattoos are also kind of sexy, especially small ones in dainty, hidden places, like the ankle or hip. This is why girls both wish to have them, and feel guilt about getting them: tats make women more attractive as short term flings but less attractive as long-term romantic partners.

I commend you for laying down the law. Your spidey sense tingled and telegraphed to you that your girlfriend would become a bigger cheating risk if she followed through with getting the tattoo. And the fact that she wants a tat has made you reevaluate her fidelity risk profile. Yours was a bold move, and chicks dig the bold move.

Naturally, a girl will stamp her wee feet when you tell her you won’t tolerate this or that behavior from her. But if you stay firm and in control of your emotions, and you are perfectly ready to call her bluff should she attempt the ol’ “I’ll find someone else who can appreciate me” counter-maneuver, you will be richly rewarded with her new and improved loyalty. Women love to feel sexy, and nothing makes them feel sexier than submitting, at last, to a strong man’s will. When you properly lead, women can’t wait to fall in line and follow. They are wired to follow, but only behind a man worthy of their relinquishment.

The reader above wrote a week later with an update:

Gentlemen…same guy that submitted about the ankle tat yesterday.

My gf recently discovered the ability of a hot girl to get lots of followers and instant positive reaction from twitter trolls. [ed: trouble brewing.] So this has sucked up a lot of her time over the past couple weeks, and she’ll post flirty pictures and what not. She’s got nearly 600 followers already and probably about 1700 tweets in the last 3 weeks that she’s put out. I’m on twitter as well and following her and vice versa and we interact on there as well as via txt/phone like we always have. I haven’t seen really anything that’s stepped over the line except one instance where I immediately called her out on it. She retweeted a somewhat suggestive comment a guy had made passively referring to her. She immediately took it down and said she was sorry, she didn’t really think of it that way. She said she just found it funny so she retweeted it.

She does interact with other guys on there, and I have indicated that I will not tolerate any sort of flirting with other guys. She offered to take it down last week when we were fighting about all of this, but I get the feeling the offer was simply a trap. I told her I wasn’t telling her to take it down, but that I was not going to allow twitter to be taking my place. My gut feeling on all of this isn’t all that great. I’m away for work until after the election and I only get to see her maybe once a week if we’re lucky.

Thoughts on the twitter? I know what’s going on here…she’s never been the girl that all the guys wanted, [ed: was she an ugly duckling as a child?] and now this lets her soak up all the instant compliments and such. I realize that it’s simply her feeding her desire for validation, but I need to keep it under control. Thoughts?

Be careful. Your girlfriend is transmogrifying into an attention whore right before your eyes. 600 Twit followers from posting salacious pics of herself. Yes, women have so much to contribute to civilization; namely, they passively motivate men to do the heavy lifting. Your GF’s confessed desire for a tattoo was an early warning signal. Twitter is like a gateway drug to evermore dangerous attention whoring highs. The progression usually starts off slowly, and culminates in a raging runaway ego:

Infancy ==> if she’s a cute baby, adults will stare at her longer
Toddlerhood ==> all her antics are “adorable”. uglier toddlers get chastised.
Grade school ==> a constant stream of self-esteem boosting messages from parents, teachers and media begin the malignant growth of her ego.
Social media ==> she has entered the world of sexting, Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. there’s no turning back now.
High school ==> one “innocent” flirty pic of her in a bikini results in 2,314 likes from men of all ages around the country. she savors her power.
College (or working class service jobs) ==> the tables begin to turn, due to the unfavorable sex ratio and the world of ruthlessly aloof cads who are wise enough to not feed her ego. but it’s a short bump along her highway of hubris.
SWPLland! ==> the working world brings her in contact with hordes of undersexed, overcomplimenting beta herbs. the few alpha males shine like diamonds in this rough. she at once gets her ego fed and her tingles satiated.
Alpha male overdose ==> fifty years later, she will remember this one week romance she had with the man who never replied to her texts, except to say “gay”, and who gave her a bag of Skittles as a gift. the Skittles are now moldy, still cherished. she is ruined for all beta males. her ego has exploded.
Bars/nightclubs/scenes ==> not one of her drunken sexpot poses or phony smiles goes unphotographed or unreported for public consumption. beta males virtually hoist her above their heads, like an Egyptian queen. by now, her ego has metastasized into terminal cancer of the soul. deeply diseased women will experience shortness of breath when no one is taking their picture. bar dancing whores will strategically go commando on nights out.
Working world ==> “I don’t even need a man to pay for my shoes!”
Adulthood ==> historically, age 18 ushered adulthood, but times have changed. 30 is the new grown-up. her looks are beginning to show signs of the remorseless fade, but years of accumulated beta male sycophancy have gifted her with an ego able to weather a storm of self-doubt for years past her sell-by date.
Withdrawal ==> whether or not she has managed to land a beta sucker for marriage, she begins to experience withdrawal symptoms from coming off her attention drug. no more likes on FB. Twit pics garner 10 followers instead of 600. her “you go girl” chorus consists of mostly flabby, cat-owning hausfraus. blog commenters mock her thumbnail avatar. even the tattoo artist suggests she get a more tasteful tat on a “smoother” part of her body.
Lashing out ==> the beta hubby, because of his proximity and inborn weakness, suffers the brunt of her bitter spite. she will open her legs for random jerks who can’t be bothered to learn her name. she will nag her husband or BF until he is pulling his pud to gloomy, late-night porn while she sleeps. if he’s lucky, divorce or a break-up will relieve him of his indentured servitude.
Children ==> she will live vicariously through her daughter, enrolling her in creepy kiddie beauty pageants, or, if she’s higher class, seducing her daughter’s horny boyfriends away from her. the drastic shrinking of her desensitized ego will render her a bitchy malcontent, unable to feel pride in any personal achievement, and needing to latch onto others for internal validation.
Ego death ==> arrives twenty years after sexual prime death. decades of self-delusion have taken their toll. she is a shell entity.

Good reader, this is your future if you do not take steps to redirect her away from the siren song of social media aka digital stripper pole. Your gut feeling is correct; it’s a bad sign for your relationship that she’s passively flirting with men on Twitter, no matter how insistently she protests it’s all innocent fun.

Maxim #41: It’s never innocent fun.

If you’re in a solid relationship with a girl who loves you and values you, external validation through social media will never become an issue. She will use Twitter and Facebook to keep in touch with her social circle, and privatize her accounts so random men can’t find her and comment on her photos or daily musings. That is a normal, healthy female response to the lure of social media status whoring. A woman in love is validated by her lover, not by cloying flattery from hard-up strangers.

My friend, between the tattoo and the Twitter whoring, you are getting red flags flapping in a stiff wind over your head. She is constitutionally incapable of finding self-worth without propping herself on a fiber optically constructed sex stage or marking her body for the amusement of the gawking masses. Or perhaps she finds you insufficient as a man powerful enough to sway her from the attention whore spotlight. Or it could be both reasons.

Whatever it is, you have to proceed as if what you have with her is far from locked downed. All girls have an innate desire for external validation, as it is the nature of their sex that external characteristics most define their value in the sexual market, which is the one market to rule them all. But the degree to which women desire this external ego stroking varies by woman, based on variables like psychological predisposition, beauty, family history and being in love. The ideal woman is a pretty girl who got lots of affection *and* character-building discipline from her father, and who’d rather suffer the vagaries of being in love than play head games to avoid being hurt.

Anyhow, you have already once laid (lain?) down the law with your girlfriend, over her tattoo request. So I don’t see a reason why you can’t put your foot down again and tell her to privatize her online accounts. The danger with laying down the law is that overuse of your authority can create an impression, justified or not, of insecurity: the man who needs to be in control of every facet of his woman’s life is a man who is afraid the tiniest taste of freedom will send her running for the exits.

I respectfully suggest your LTR has some issues that need clarifying. Fifteen months is just about the time when both parties will subconsciously judge the quality of their relationship, and decide to keep at it or find a way out. This is especially so in modern America, a strange time of delayed responsibility and celebrated shamelessness, particularly of women. Furthermore, moving in together tends to hasten and strengthen the internal call for judgment. She is acting out because things have just gotten real.

My advice:

Keep a suspicious eye on her. Flirt with other girls to remind yourself you have options should the worst happen and your girlfriend cheats or hints at breaking up. Tell her public tweeting is out; if she really loves you, she’ll gladly accept the imposition on her crass desires. Remind her it’s for her own good over the long-term, and that other girls you have dated had no need to whore on Twitter. At last, begin to instill some dread in your relationship; this is how you will simultaneously test for her faithfulness and fullness of heart, and draw her away from the temptation of external validation. I’d offer you good luck, but I think that even if you “win” this round with her, the future prognosis doesn’t look promising. She’s on the upswing of venturing forth into attention whore land, and it’s hard to bring a girl back down to earth when she’s already catapulting into lookatme orbit.

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Game And HBD: BFFs

Haha. I bet you read the title and thought this post would be a lengthy treatise on the shared philosophical underpinnings of game and human biodiversity (HBD). Psyche!

A reader emails:

Hello. I’d like to add the entry of Game to the HBD Dictionary:

As a rough draft entry, I have:

Game:  Using insights from evolutionary psychology and human biodiversity, game teaches men, especially beta males, how to simulate the attitudes and characteristics of alpha males so as to be more attractive to females.

Again, a rough draft.  Feel free to re-write.

Also, if you can think of any other terms that need to be added or revisions to current terms, please let me know.

I don’t have a major problem with the crux of this reader’s definition of game. I see what he’s getting at. I might rephrase it to: “Using insights from evolutionary psychology and real world experience bedding women…”, but then the peer review panel would get the hives. However, I don’t think a definition should be nested (if that’s the right word); that is, a good definition won’t require the reader to have to look up the definitions of fuzzy words within the main definition (e.g., “beta males” or “alpha males”).

How about this definition instead (and one that avoids using the word game within the definition)?:

Game, noun

A systematized blueprint of male behavior for attracting, courting and seducing women in an efficient and powerful manner based on the practical application of theories of human, and particularly female, sexuality derived from the insights of evolutionary psychology, biology and real world experimentation.

Any alternate suggestions from the peanut gallery?

PS I do think game and HBD greatly overlap, despite the commonly held misconceptions that HBD is a synonym for genetic determinism or that game is a synonym for boundless behavioral plasticity.

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A Virgin Mormon’s Journey To Game

A reader who shall remain unidentified sent this story about his first time in a girl’s pussy. Names, venues and locations were changed by the reader to protect the privacy of those involved. I can’t vouch for the truthfulness of this tale. As is usual in these circumstances where anonymity is necessary, the policy is “what you read is what you get”. You may choose to believe or disbelieve.

******
Dear CH, this is my story. It is all true and has been edited to ensure real names, venue names and locations are not revealed. I’m not asking for feedback because there is much to read and much to learn from CH, and I simply have a lot of reading and learning to do.

I gift this story to you. I thought of you mid-pump. I could feel your god-like presence looking down on me with a look of patronistic-pride. [ed: no homo!]

Feel free to post any of this on CH, in fact it would be an honour, but I’m satisfied with the hope that you’ll read this and hopefully smile like a father watching his son ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. [ed: i know that feel, bro.]

The following interaction occurred in a country like England or Australia or The United States or New Zealand or Canada. I am 24 years old and recently made a big change in my life; I divorced my affiliation from the Church of Latter Day Saints (Mormons), my ultra-conservative Mormon family and 95% of my Mormon friends. I’m more or less on my own and the ‘moral’ floodgates are open; everything is fair game. This isn’t my excuse for not getting my fuck on earlier though. Had the hot and heavy opportunity landed in my lap (heh), I probably would have seized it. So I’m no saint as I have more than my lion’s share of really big fuck ups, but the few rules I tried to follow were related to drinking, drugs and pre-marital sex, etc. The ones your parents generally care about.

This is a true story with names changed or censored.
This is how I parted ways with my virginity.
You really can’t make this shit up.

(Note: All my life I’ve been a beta/nice-guy/just-friend, I’d never kissed a girl or anything beyond that… I’ve read the beginning of The Game by Neil Strauss up until the part where the NLP guy is doing shit with the sauce bottles. Prior to these events, I had frequented the Chateau less than a dozen times and felt like none of it could work for me… Looking back, I applied maybe 1% of things I had read and what my friends had advised me to do with girls, etc… In the last 3 months I’ve spooned with 3 different girls, the last one of whom I fingered and sucked on her tits (lol, yes, they were all awake and sober at the time also). Ha, the girl I fingered however… Man oh man did I suffer a terrible case of the blue-balls because of it… I could hardly walk or sit down, for the rest of the day. Fuck you 8th grade sex-ed teacher for saying blue-balls is just a myth. Up until the events as detailed below, I was a ‘classical’ virgin to all purposes and extents.

My dear friend Adam said to me after I retold these sordid events to him, “You did what you did as a beta. Imagine what you could achieve if you worked on your inner game and became a lesser alpha…”

Imagine it. Done.

—

The Dawn of my non-Virgin Self, by “m”.

23 August 2012

It was a Thursday evening and the weather wasn’t great. It had been raining for most of the day, grey skies and general gloom. Fuck it, I’m going out if anyone else is. By the time the night rolled around the weather had changed a little for the better. It was still bitterly cold which is very much par for the course in this city.

At 5:28 pm I texted Jane Stevenson: hey Janey, let’s go out tonight. celebrations are in order 🙂

I went and had a shower in anticipation for the night ahead. No plans were in the making other than the hope that Jane (Janey) would reply to my text and meet me in the city for drinks. At around 10:20 pm with no reply, I called Janey hoping she’d finished her basketball game (she plays basketball on Thursday nights) to see what she was doing. My call rang through to her voicemail and I hung up.

At 10:23 pm Jane Stevenson texted me: Hey! Sorry, I meant to text you. I’m at a 21st at Titanium, so we’re already out. What’re your plans? And what are we celebrating!?

At 10:24 pm I texted Jane Stevenson: haha, don’t bail, i’ll tell you what we’re celebrating when i get there 🙂

I promptly got dressed and fixed up my hair before heading out to the city. I parked in the “Horsing Around” car park and walked to Titanium Bar. Janey and her friend Hannah were standing next to a wall opposite the far end of the bar. I approached them and she noticed me and as we made contact, she put her arms around me, hello, blah, etc. She asked me what we were celebrating and I told her it was somewhat bittersweet… I told her that a job opportunity had come up in the capital city and that I not only got the job, but I was the preferred candidate for the role, “I’m moving away”. Janey and I have only met a handful of times but there has been obvious chemistry each time we met. I should have escalated things with her prior to tonight, but hindsight can go fuck itself in this particular instance. She said something to the effect of, “well I’m sure I’ll see you when you come to visit and I’ll try and come up to see you too”. This I liked. She introduced me to some of her friends and the 21st birthday boy, “[redacted]”.

Being the inexperienced drinker that I am (because of my prior “Mormonism”), I ordered a Tequila on the rocks (Jose Cuervo Especial) and it tasted of unwashed Mexican feet. It also cost me $9. Janey and a couple of her girlfriends were playfully giggling at me because of my drinking inexperience and the faces of pained disgust I was exaggerating. It was all cute, really. I went back to the bar and ordered a Red Bull to clean the flavour out of my mouth and thought I’d mix the two to see if it got any better. It did get a little better, but not by much. The Red Bull cost me $7. Janey advised me to stick with vodka and that I won’t regret it. These fucking prices also, goddamn.

It was decided that we would all leave Titanium Bar and go to McFadden’s Pub. When we finally got there (it’s about 4 blocks away) we were told by some members of the group who had left earlier that it was dead inside and the music was shit (they play the top 40, what were you expecting?), and we proceeded to return to the main nightclub strip. All the while we were walking to McFadden’s Pub and now back again, I was walking beside Janey, talking shit and applying a little kino when crossing the street. I was going to jaywalk in front of oncoming traffic (I would have made it across without issue) and Janey grabbed me by the torso and pulled me back into her, to save my life perhaps (lol). I put my arms around her and said, somewhat mockingly, “what, you care that much for me?” to which she replied, “I don’t like to see people get hurt.” I smirked at her and she smiled. We got to the front of Minq and waited for the birthday boy who had apparently gone off with a girl to get some food, however after having stood in the cold for 5 minutes his friends started calling him to see what was going on. Apparently he’d gone home (I don’t know if the girl went home with him or not) because he’d had a big enough night. Mind you, it couldn’t have been later than midnight at this point. “Some 21st”.

24 August 2012

When we got inside Minq we went to the dance floor and proceeded to dance in the fashion that SWPL youth dance. After about 15-20 minutes we left the dance floor and went to the bar overlooking the dance floor. I ordered a Vodka Red Bull (Red Bull Silver Edition: Lime). It cost me $10. After I finished my drink, Janey grabbed my arm and told me she and some of her friends were going downstairs for a cigarette break. I joined them so as not to be left alone in the club. During this cigarette break, some acquaintances of Janey’s joined us (apparently they were Canadian and [White] South Africans studying at a private school). Though I cannot recall his name, perhaps for lack of caring to, one of the South Africans I will refer to as WK had a keen interest in Janey. To my dismay (beta feelings), she seemed to reciprocate his advances and they kissed openly in the street. He was clearly the AMOG and applied kino aggressively and effectively. He also ‘seemed’ to be quite drunk. When I was introduced to him I simply told him to call me “m” as I ‘own that alphabet’ (and there are instances where I don’t want certain people to know my name). This stuck. Good.

It was then decided that we all go to the upstairs level of Horsing Around. There was more dancing and trips to the bar and more of WK and Janey making out. I tried my best to project an aura of idungivafuq but on the inside I was dying. Being a sports bar, Horsing Around had a promotional ‘snowboarding’ competition where competitors had to ride a mechanical snowboard for as long as they could to win some kind of prize. The mechanical snowboard works in a similar way to a mechanical bull. I got in line as I fancied my chances and managed to steal most of the group to come and watch me. I thought this would be a good chance to demonstrate some alpha athleticism so in my mind, I had a lot to lose if I failed… Behind me in line, I noticed an accent that seemed far from its native home. I turned to see a girl wearing a grey dress, black skin-tight lycra-esque-pants(?) and grey suede heels. She seemed to be 5-6 inches taller than myself (heels included). I said hi to her and enquired as to her place of origin. She told me she was a New Zealander and we started chatting; she was travelling the world and was currently based here working as an Au Pair full-time and as a barmaid part-time. We discussed our chances on the mechanical snowboard and she revealed to me that she has been snowboarding somewhat regularly, “at least a dozen times” back home (this was later evident in her performance). She asked me about my boarding experience and I told her it was minimal at best, but having been long boarding for a few months now, I have a general level of control on a board.

One of the men in charge of operating the mechanical snowboard approached us with a clipboard to sign the indemnity form in the event we should hurt ourselves whilst on their equipment; I think it was also to go in the running for some kind of bar tab prize. Riding the board had a no shoes, no socks policy and after a successful ‘practice run’ I motioned to the operator to let loose. In 15 seconds or less it went from cruisey, curvy sways to actual bucks as if you were going over a mound-field. The third one got me and I fell into the air-filled jumping-castle-like surrounds. I put my shoes and socks back on as the New Zealander girl was getting ready to have her go. She stayed on for over a minute. After she got her shoes back on I congratulated her on her superior snowboarding skills and asked her for her name. She told me her name was Samantha. I said to her, “hey listen, since I might not see you again tonight, give me your number cause you seem like a pretty cool chick”, to which she replied, “but I have a boyfriend”, to which I replied, “well maybe I just wanna be friends…” and shrugged with a look of nonchalance on my face. It did the trick. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that she was leaving the club to go somewhere else with her friends and there was a sense of urgency about it all… She didn’t know what her number was by heart but had it saved in her phone. She found her own contact and I typed it into my phone and saved the contact as Samantha Newport (Kiwi Chick). She left and my friends and I carried on for about an hour (drinking, dancing, smoking, etc.) and when we were satisfied that we had had enough, we went to Macdonald’s.

The group walked in and sat at a table, I stayed outside and spoke with a street musician as I’d met him on a previous night out and had heard his life story through song. I feel like we’re more than strangers in an odd sort of way. After some chit-chat, Janey came outside to join me and have a smoke (I don’t smoke by the way) and I introduced her to my Liberian street musician friend. He told her she was very beautiful and that I was very ‘lucky’ to have a girlfriend like her, which made her blush. Neither of us corrected him. I tossed some money into his guitar case and asked him to play a Bob Marley song. Going from the best to the worst wingman ever, he played Redemption Song instead of Is This Love. WK came outside and AMOG’d me by being all handsey and kissyface and whisked Janey away back inside. After he was done playing his song I shook his hand and told him to have a good night. I went inside the Macdonald’s restaurant and everyone was eating a burger or whatever. WK had ordered a side of Janey and was yet again busy eating her face. The awkward thing for me throughout the whole night was that Janey was the only person I knew beforehand. After 10-15 minutes everyone was feeling tired enough to go home. I think it was around 2:30 am. Janey was about to get into a taxi with WK and I called out to her. She came to me and hugged me good night. I told her, “I don’t want you going home with him…”, but she gave me a pained expression and got into his taxi anyway. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that interaction.  I’m not going to assume anything happened or didn’t happen, I simply truly do not care for had this not happened, The following would not have occurred:

Feeling defeated, I did a very beta thing…
At 2:42 am I texted Jane Stevenson: </3
There was no (immediate) reply.

I felt like a loser because I was. I lost the girl I wanted for the night to someone younger than myself, younger than Janey, and I felt ashamed. I decided I’d solo the rest of the night and see how things turn out. I went back to Minq and just as I got up the stairs and walked in, I noticed Samantha the New Zealander girl walking towards me, but she didn’t recognise me (or maybe didn’t want to) so I called out to her and she turned around. I asked where she was going and she said something to the effect of, “I’m trying to find my friends, I think they’re outside or something”, to which I replied, “well text them to come here and stay here and party with me”. She had a look on her face that said “but I need to find my friends, some shit’s going down” and she said bye and left.

At 2:58 am I texted Samantha Newport (Kiwi Chick): come back to the club, i’d love for you to chill with me for a bit

No reply. I felt defeated again. I stayed in the club and watched some well booty-endowed African girls dancing while I sipped my Red Bull. I finished my drink, left the can on a table and walked out into the lonely cold.

DESPAIR

Despair was starting to break me so I went to ground level Horsing Around, a nightclub renowned for being home of the easy pump and dump. It’s not actually that bad and I’d say the whole pump and dump label was applied because of a particular patronage that I haven’t seen there in years, but labels stick.

I wasn’t feeling like dancing or drinking anymore, I’d had 2 (count’em, 2!) drinks and wanting to be safe, I wanted to just chill for a bit to get the alcohol out of my system before taking the road home. I sat at one end of a corner table that some 30 something year olds were sitting at and I watched some drunks playing pool. It was entertaining enough. Directly ahead of me I could see the dance floor and there were still some nice looking girls dancing and whatever. I have to mention this because I witnessed first-hand a truly disgusting thing. A fairly decent looking 40 something year old Asiatic man with a good build and friendly face approached a white girl probably in her early to mid-20’s with thighs as thick as… fuck… my waist? 32 inches? She was by no measure (heh) a small girl. He approached her with a jig in his step which was appropriate for the music that was playing at the time and tried to lean in to talk to her and no doubt invite her to dance with him or join him for a drink. Sitting with her hotter looking friends, she refused him with a look of polite disgust so as not to elicit violence but to also get her message across. This was no child though, being the man he was, he turned around, devil-may-care, and continued his dance walk away from her and back towards the dance floor. As he passed where I was sitting, I called him over and said to him, “What a crazy place we live where girls like that shoot down handsome men like you *wink* (no-homo)”, he laughed and shook my hand and went about his way.

Another 5-10 minutes passed and as luck would have it, I saw Samantha on the dance floor dancing with some guy. She and some guy danced literally towards me and I just sat there, trying to look cool and aloof (dead eyes, left thumb hooked in pocket, right arm stretched out across the top of the seats, etc). I’m not sure where the guy fucked off to, but he left and I poked Samantha in her right ass cheek with my left index finger. She turned around and saw me, realised she’d run into me again and started chit chatting about stuff I can’t remember. Not sure if I can call him an AMOG gorilla or whatever, but this African guy came out of nowhere and started dancing with her all up close and personal and intimate and shit, and I just sat there, cool look of detachment on my face as she stared back at me. After a minute or so, it started to look painfully obvious that his advances and adventurous hands were no longer appreciated, so I motioned with my right index finger a ‘come hither’ to Samantha much the same way you would to a kitten. She came and sat next to me and I put my right hand around her waist (DTF lol). African guy had this hilarious look of ‘what the fuck?’ on his face and though he didn’t say anything, he tried to dance her back into his arms as weird as that sounds, much the same way a peacock would probably try to display it’s feathers more alluringly to a pea-hen that’s been taken away from it. She sat next to me and I didn’t say anything to her or look at her, and she finally said, “I feel so threatened sitting here with you”, to which I replied, “ha, and why’s that?”, and she moved away a bit and said “because you’re being so distant. I moved in closer than before (remember, this is a night club with loud music, conversation is mouth-to-ear with centimetres in it) and said, “I’m distant because you’re cold”. Something in her changed and she moved in and rested her head on my shoulder and told me she was tired. I took her hand and drew circles in her palm with my index finger and when she asked me what I was doing, I told her this is how I get to know the girls that I like. She laughed and I asked her where she lives, she told me and I told her “I can drive you home if you like, you’re on my way”, and this seemed quite agreeable to her.

We went to the dance floor, she said bye to her friend who was dancing with some other guy and we stepped outside. I took my jacket off and wrapped her in it (she had her arms crossed) and she protested, “no it’s okay, blah blah blah”, and I told her to shut up and accept chivalry when it’s given. No further argument. I’ll skip some of the detail here because I don’t want this to be on par with Lord of the Rings. We got to my car, drove to her place, I pulled into her driveway. I said to her, with the engine of my car still running, “I don’t want this to be goodnight”, to which she replied, “what do you want?” … She leaned in close to my ear, her breath heavy on my neck and I said after a slight pause, “I want to spend the night in you”. She started kissing me and was quite bitey which I found quite funny, that is to say, she was biting my lips and not particularly lightly either, and it should be noted that this was my first kiss. We made out for about 30 seconds and I knew I had to escalate shit fast. I gently pulled away from her and my lips finally left the vice-like grip of her teeth and I switched my car engine off. I got out of my car walked around to her side. She’d already opened her door and I gave her my hand to help her out, she got out, started making out with me in the street and I pulled away again to lock my car. She led me to an intercom panel to gain entry to her complex where the key to her house was biometric security based; her right index finger to be precise. She walked me through the gate and told me to stick to the wall as I walked as there are security cameras and she’s not allowed to have company in her house.

Everything at this point felt surreal. Here I was, having just had my first kiss(es) with a pretty good looking girl and she was leading me into her bedroom. I knew I was going to get my fuck on tonight, I could just never have anticipated things would have been like this. We got inside, went up the stairs and into her bedroom. She started profusely apologising for the mess in her house (she later said she’s OCD about tidiness and even a few things here and there drive her crazy) and I told her it didn’t matter. We sat on the edge of her bed and started making out again, but having read my friends’ sisters’ girly magazine with him when I was 12 or 13, I knew about girls having this erogenous zone or something that goes from the lips to the neck to the shoulder, kind of like a triangle. I started working that area with my lips while I had a hand on the small of her back and another between her legs on her upper inner thigh. She started moaning so I assumed I was doing it right. Haha, women’s magazines actually serving a purpose for once.

She asked me how many girls I had been with and I told her not to freak out or panic, and I made a zero with my thumb and index finger. She didn’t believe me and I told her this isn’t the kind of thing I’d lie about, especially in this particular setting… She got upset and said she didn’t want to ruin me, that it wouldn’t be love or real, that I deserve to be in love with the person I want to share my first time with… I deflected all of her concerns telling her she couldn’t ruin me because I have a strong heart, that it didn’t get more real than this and what we were about to embark on was love itself, etc. Pretty much anything to get around her negative emotions and get her back in the mood, and never mind her boyfriend whom she loved, his name didn’t come up once. Retrospectively, I find it quite funny how beta I acted as the crescendo of the night was in progress, statements like, “omg ur so bewtiful” and “i’m so lucky 2 b here wit u”… The heat of the moment I guess. Now, this was an unplanned adventure so it was raw. Later it got rough, but it was all certainly raw. And had there been a condom in sight, I still probably wouldn’t have used one, but having learned mid fuck that this girl was into EVERYTHING, I wish I had had a condom to explore her rectum with my hardware.

We undressed each other and these motions of pre-programmed human-ness took over. I don’t want this to sound clinical or overly nerdy, but it felt like two machines were interfacing with each other to perpetuate the operation of a greater task, it was awesome. We started at around 4 am and I felt like I was in a porno, we did everything; missionary, her on top/grinding down hard, cowgirl, doggy, sideways, lotus… My mission objective once shit was starting was to get her to cum which was on a psychological level very important for me. A few months ago I watched a how to video on youtube and the girl advised the digital insertion the index and middle fingers with a “come-hither” motion. I think I felt her g-spot and I focused on massaging her insides with that lump as the base of operations. Again, through observation of my subject, I can only conclude I was successful in my endeavours; she kept rolling her eyes into the back of her head, she was biting the skin on her upper arms, her torso and legs were convulsing… Shit was cash. Between her uncontrolled movements and bodily shudders, she looked up at me as perplexed as a betrayed friend and said, “how the fuck is this your first time?” I didn’t bother answering but I can only say it had something to do with watching lots of porn, reading parts of e-books that deal with this subject and actually caring for her sexual needs instead of getting hasty and just sticking it in. I did want it to be a little special after all.

I ate her out and she tasted of lemons and limes (she said it was because of her diet), she sucked my dick and I realised I am extremely ticklish around my upper leg area, she left scratches on my back that led to some high-fives in a steam room at my local pool when the question was raised. After I missionary’d her for a while, she took out her dildo (not sure if I was being inexperienced with her goods or if she wanted double penetration, but I watched her operate on herself which was quite a visual experience. At one point when I was giving it to her from behind I spanked her and she managed to say, “*moaning* ooohhhhhh, oh, oh, oh… oh baby, c’mon, you can hit harder than that, C’MON! *moaning*”. When I had her on top grinding down on me, she put her hands around my throat and started to choke me, and then she realised what she was doing and apologised. I would have laughed but I was too in awe of the hilarity of the moment. At another point I told her I wanted to try a porno move on her (throat-fuck) so she lay on the bed with her head hanging off the side and I docked my shuttle with the international space station. The best part was when I pulled out and that throaty mucus was dripping off my dick. Towards the end of our romp, I still hadn’t cum, not from lack of trying mind you. I have this dangerous desire to fuck a woman in the hopes of getting her pregnant and never seeing her ever again, only to be confronted with my bastard years and years later in an angry, violent confrontation. First world problems I guess. Anyway, I would have blasted inside of her with even greater recklessness as I had discovered a foreign object inside her which she told me was a Mirena, an IUD that provides 99.91% protection from conception. She also told me not to fuck around with it because it cost her $7,000 to buy and have it inserted. Back to me, I’m done with her and I was jacking myself as furiously as possible because I really really really (obviously) wanted to at least cum on her on in her mouth or pussy… I had actually tired myself out. At this point in the morning with the first rays of the sun lighting up the sky, we were both dry; inside and out, tired and sleepy. She tried sucking and jacking me off, and I would get close to climax, but it was like trying to start a car with engine problems. My legs were shuddering in a way that doctors would probably describe as exhaustion due to extreme physical exertion. My kingdom for temporary pre-mature ejaculation… Anyway, we cleaned up, got dressed kissed goodbye and she walked me to my car. Just as I got outside the gate, I turned towards her, placed my left hand on the small of her back and right hand down the front of her jeans with my fingers back inside of her. I took my fingers out after a few pokes that made her roll her eyes back (again), put my fingers in her mouth and she sucked them clean. I kissed her goodbye.

A phone call some hours later and she told me she had been too tired to go to work and had got in trouble from her boss AND that she felt extremely guilty for what had happened because she loves her boyfriend.

Although I didn’t get to deploy my weapon’s payload, it felt like a complete victory for a first time combatant (kind of like the snipers from the movie ‘Jarhead’).

As I got in my car to drive home, I checked my phone…
At 6:25 am Jane Stevenson texted me: Ahhh! I was one of those awful drunk friends…sorry! We’ll have to catch up again when I’m not being retarded 🙂
“Catch up” indeed.

Post-script

Having read the recent CH article ‘Hot Girl Crazy’, I can confidently say that Samantha lives in this bubble others have constructed for her. She says this about herself, “I’m a confident girl and I was so sure of my self I felt I had to step out of my comfort zone to find some insecurity to secure”. She lives a very good and easy life (the top 0.00001 percentile in my opinion); she resides in one of the most executive suburbs in my city, drives an expensive European SUV, has her apartment serviced daily (cleaning lady, refrigerator is restocked, etc) and this is all paid for by her employer. She is the most glorified nanny I can think of. Fran Drescher’s ‘Nanny’ character doesn’t even come close.

******

“M”‘s story sounds plausible. A man’s first time is never as smooth as he imagines it will be. Halting beta missteps peppered with brilliant flashes of accidental alpha attitude typically characterize the virgin’s introduction to the world of vagina. There were some truly cringeworthy beta moments in his recollection, but on the whole his strategy was sound: he kept up the physical and emotional escalation while deftly handling the logistics. And he never let the AMOG blowout of his oneitis suck the life out of him like it does for so many recovering betas in similar scenarios; his mood remained engaged and his attitude positive.

I do think this young ex-Mormon, having now tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge of poon and pickup, will awaken to a world of wonders, and will probably get married a lot later in life than his religious brethren who stayed in the fold. And he will never look back.

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Donation Nation

Supposedly, it’s protocol for internet content providers (ha!) to rattle the tin cup twice per year. So here we are. Donate here, or (more easily) use the donate button to the right on the main page, just under the blog banner heading.

Have you learned from this castlemonium deluxe? Have you been treated with the requisite haughtiness? Has your psyche been vigorously penetrated? Most importantly, has this stone-front, gated internet retreat nestled deep in the misty meadows of medieval France gotten you laid with the women of your choice?

If so, show your appreciation!

If not, fuck you.

In the meantime, here is what the future holds for Le Chateau Sensuality:

1. A book (or two!). (Pending defeat of personal laziness demons.)

2. In-field stuff. (Might include guest spots.)

3. More reviews of game material. (There’s a pile of ebooks and manuals to read laying disconsolately on the sofa, currently being sniffed by an overfed dog.)

4. More movie scenes of game in action.

5. More real-life stories. (Expect calculated timeline distortion and detail restructuring to misdirect the haters.)

6. More science. (Sorry, it’s a CH favorite.)

7. Fewer adjectives. (Yeah, we’ve heard you.)

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Le Chateau Goes Stand-Up

I’m happy to inform guests of dishonor that the campaign to infiltrate polite society with the secretive butthex teachings of the Chateau is under way. A reader writes:

I think you speak the truth about men and women.

A few weeks ago I read your post about drawing smiley faces on your girl’s tampons, and I loved it so much I worked it in to my stand up routine.

The link to me performing is here – it’s all about how to save your marriage.  The second point, about improving your sex life (with your wife) you might think is a bit beta, but I wanted to work in the stuff about not wanting it to be over quickly, and it does tap in to a widely held view.

I wish you the best – you are doing God’s work in educating men about women.

The beta stuff isn’t bothersome. I consider it a Trojan Horse to sneak in alpha wisdom. All comedians know that packaging scandalous truths in pretty bows is sometimes the best way to condition the audience’s receptiveness to the thoughtcrimes about to pop out like a jerk-in-the-box.

Anyhow, you can watch the vid below. I’d say it’s NSFW, but only because your female boss is a raging feminist who is envious that men are funnier than women.

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A Testament To The Power Of Game

Reader Sidewinder writes the following:

Last night I banged the highest quality girl to date. 21, petite, model, easily orgasmic…somewhere in that 8-9.5 range where any difference in rating is merely a matter of opinion. I’m a 35 year old attorney, recently divorced, 2 kids, balding, medium height, slender build…pretty fucking average.

I won’t waste your time with the entire seduction (which took 2 months, yet the 7 hour rule still held). I am fairly confident that last night would not have happened without the knowledge I have gained from reading your blog. This girl threw shit tests at me on a near daily basis for over a month. And when I passed all the tests and had near flawless rapport with her on 2 dates, she wouldn’t even kiss me at the end of the date (even though there was a lot of touching, hand-holding, etc.). She flaked on one date, and rejected me on another date request. So what changed? What were the keys to success?

1.        Persistent frame maintenance. I never whined, complained, asked, pleaded… I always acted congruent with the reality that I am a high-value male worthy of her sexual interest. While it was never said, she knew that “let’s just be friends” would not be an acceptable way of dealing with me. And I always moved forward, never afraid to tease, touch, flirt. No attempt to backtrack to try to avoid a rejection or give myself an out.

2.       Negs. Even though she is very attractive, she has a warm approachable personality, so I calibrated to a teasing form of negging. No cutting negs, except as described below at 5.

3.       Freeze out. After a month of flirting, dates, but no sex, I stopped giving her attention. This drove her crazy and resulted in increased texts and emails from her.

4.       Gamed other girls. While freezing her out, I continued talking to other girls, banging one of them. She didn’t know about this, but this bird in the hand mentality gave me strong inner game in dealing with the hotter girl.

5.       Destroyed/preempted her ultimate shit test – while I was ignoring her, she sent the following beta bait: “A girl hit me last night. I don’t know what to do”. I completely ignored this. This pissed her off and she demanded to talk a couple days later. I told her at the last minute she could come out and meet me at a restaurant I was already at after work (a greasy hole in the wall that she had previously told me she hated). She shows up, pissed to even be there and started fishing for emotional support which I ignored. Then she tried to guilt trip me about not being a caring person and listed all the ways I’m “not as great as you think you are.” At that point, having banged the other girl the night before, I didn’t give a shit so I told her the truth: I didn’t respond to her text because her “girl fight” was embarrassing for her, not something she should broadcast or that I would ever be involved with. I told her she needed to grow the fuck up. She looked at the wine in her hand and thought about throwing it on me, but instead got up, yelled at me and stomped out of the place. But she really didn’t leave…she waited outside for me to come out…we ended up having a good conversation. She wanted to come over but I told her I was tired.

6.       The days following this, she turned a complete 180. Pleasant, accommodating, openly interested in hanging out. Last night she came over, with her overnight stuff (I didn’t invite her to spend the night), watched a movie, no drama whatsoever, sex after a fair degree of last minute resistance and she stayed over. But it was good resistance, the “I don’t want to fuck this up with you” kind of resistance.

While we were laying in bed after sex, she was talking about why she wanted to be with me and she said “You are really honest with me, even when I don’t want to hear it. No guy is ever honest with me. They just tell me what they think I want to hear.” I know you don’t put a lot of stock into what women have to say about game, or what they think they want, but this girl is very intelligent and self-aware.

Unbelievable how difficult this was, though. It was like trying to land a marlin in a kayak, or break a wild horse. And odds are good I’ll slip up or get out-gunned eventually by a higher quality guy. But I’m fairly confident I would never have even got my first drink with her prior to finding this blog, much less navigating the minefield she laid out.

Some men found Fortune 500 companies. Some men split the atom. I help guys get laid with hot babes. Ask yourself, who’s really bringing more happiness into the world? 😎

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Hypergamy Discussion

Over at Cheap Chalupas Central, there’s a rollicking post and discussion thread about female hypergamy and its consequences for society when it is unleashed in full. Recommended reading. Le Chateau Heartiste is proud to be the locus for the mainstreaming and growing interest in female hypergamy. It’s long overdue. Naturally, the Big Chalupa himself is loath to link the relevant posts here, instead preferring the route of swiping tangentially in code. He’s a coy one! Well, whatever. At least we know he reads this blog religiously. Perhaps under the bed with a flashlight?

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