Player’s Pop Quiz

Your girlfriend, who is thin, asks if you think she looks fat.  Among the following responses you could give which is most likely to make her smile and kiss you?  Which is most likely to piss her off?  Which is most likely to make her more dependent on you (AKA love you)?

The Sarcastic Answer
“Oh yes, you’re huge.  So fucking round.  I’ve seen beach balls with more sex appeal.”  *rolls eyes*

The Sincere Answer
“No, you are thin and beautiful, as I have always known you.”

The Coy Answer
“Hmm, lemmee see, turn around.  Hm, you know, it’s weird… maybe it’s the lighting in here.”

The Scornful Answer
“Are you on drugs or are you blind?  Give me a break, you know you aren’t fat.”

The Psychotherapy Answer
“If this is a cheap pity ploy to boost your sagging self-esteem or a test of my devotion I suggest a more subtle alternative route that doesn’t involve ridiculous assumptions.”

The Mendacious Insurance Policy Answer
“Yeah, now that you mention it, you did put on a few pounds, especially around the hips.”  *makes frowny face*

The Sly Answer
“Not that I would notice these things, but if you did put on a little weight, it looks good on you.”

The Non-Answer
“Girls!”

The Satirical Answer
“Does my penis look bigger?”

The Smartass Answer
“Define ‘fat’.”

The Goofball Faux-Reassurance Answer
“Don’t worry, baby, I like a little cushion for the pushin’!”

The Evasive Answer
“Hey, I love those shoes on you.  Amazing!  They really accentuate your long legs.”

The Pimp Answer
“Why don’t you work off your fat ass by getting on your knees and sucking my cock, bitch.  Don’t let me see no tears.”

The New Age Answer
“You’re coming from a fear-based place.  Let go of your ego and trust in the universe that my love is enough.”

The Charming Bastard Answer
“I can’t judge these things with clothes interfering.  A proper analysis can only be done by candlelight… with a warm bath… and a bottle of pinot noir nearby… to be sure the results are as… biased… as possible.”

Silence
*walks slowly to her, puts his hands on her cheeks, brushes aside her hair, looks in her eyes, leans in, runs his lips softly up her neck to her ear.  sits back down.*

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Honesty

In seduction, honesty is not the best policy.  A man learns from experience to conceal some of what he is thinking because no matter how much a woman says she wants to know his true feelings, she would rather not.

Hiding my opinions from a woman I am trying to bed is a tactical maneuver, not a fear-based beta instinct.  There is a difference between bending your opinions to appease the girl and refraining from excessive candor so as not to unnecessarily drive her away.  If I think a girl’s hobbies suck, what good does it do me to tell her that?  It is not alpha to be so cavalier in your opinions that you shit all over the things she cherishes most.

Women don’t operate like men.  A misplaced word or criticism can turn them off instantly.  A woman may want to have sex with you after the first fifteen minutes, but her horniness can be easily reversed if you sever the connection with disagreements that go to the heart of how she sees herself.  Unless you are a low-testosterone man who won’t mind the long stretches of celibacy resulting from sticking by your principled honesty, deep-seated differences in opinion should only be shared after sex when the possibility of a long term relationship is evident.

Now I don’t advocate lying.  There is a middle ground between complete candor and bald-faced lies.  Massaging the truth is the best way to describe it.  Some may call this manipulation.  Is it manipulation if I speak honestly but say it in such a way that my chances of success are maximized?  And if that is manipulation, is it wrong?

The fact is, there would be very little hooking up at all if men decided en masse to be totally honest with women.  I think men could handle women telling them they only like them for their high status job or their swagger, but could women handle being told by men that dinner was on them only because they think this will buy them a titty fuck?  Or that all they can think about when she is blathering on about crystal therapy or her non-profit job is what she looks like naked and what it would be like to make love to her all night long?

Let’s be honest.  Honesty falls in the category of those values we all say we want from others, but really don’t.

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Hotter Women, Better Sex

There are a lot of false impressions circulating about the motivation behind men’s Darwinian struggle to fuck the most beautiful women.  Of course, the cultural explanation is gibberish so I won’t bother to address that here.  What interests me is the oft-repeated claim, mostly by women but also by some men with beta issues, that the primary drive for men’s unstoppable lust to score only the hottest girls is to boost their ego by being seen in public with arm candy.

This is not true.  The essential motivation for scoring the best-looking women is the visceral pleasure signals it sends to the reward centers of the male brain.  To gaze on a beautiful woman’s face, admire the curves of her body, and make love with her all night long is its own reward.  The little bit of ego-massaging that comes from walking into a crowded room and showing off the hot girl in your company pales in comparison to the ecstasy of privately kissing her lips in a quiet room with the blinds drawn.

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.  Since men remember sex acts with crystal clear clarity, it’s easy for me to recall the exact specifications of my sexual encounters with each woman in my life.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but my jizzbombs were heavier and the distance ejected farther with the prettier girls.  Since this is something I cannot consciously control, it is proof of the innate characteristics of the male sex drive.

In the interest of science, I’ve put my beauty-to-cumload comparison in a handy chart:

hotness of woman               size of load               squirt distance
0                                            *                                *
1                                            *                                *
2                                            *                                *
3                                            pre-cum only           had to be squeezed out
4                                            droplet                      dribble
5                                            <5 grams                  2 cm
6                                            fills bellybutton        3 inches
7                                            1 tbsp                         8 inches
8                                            2 tbsps                       1.5 feet
9                                            1/4 cup                       3 feet
10                                          gallon**                      5 yards**

*insufficient data
**extrapolation                  

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Bald Man’s Lament

A friend, who is a good person despite his penchant for finding humor in the suffering of others, trawled one of those sad-sack internet support groups and forwarded me this plaintive wail from a man(?) who is losing his hair and blaming it for his collapsing marriage.  My friend, for purposes of this blog I shall call him Zeets, thinks this tormented ululating from an anonymous balding man is slap-the-knee funny.

The wife was having sex with the new man while I cried to other people that I wanted my wife back. She was having fun and laughing and having sex with her new man and stuff like that while I was crying and confused and being very very depressed. I had no idea why my wife left me and why she was with another man and I was just wanting the nightmare to end. When someone told me it was my hair I actually got a little angry with him and looked at him like he was nuts. I kind of growled at him so he stopped talking to me. I didn’t want to believe that it was my hair. I didn’t get it even though I had lost a bunch of hair but the new guy had a full head of hair. I simply refused to see the light. I cried and told everyone around me that I was imagining my wife having sex with the new man and I said it was killing me. And I was right, she was having sex with the new man. She would lay under the new man and thrust her pelvis into the pelvis of the new man so she could get the new man’s penis as deep into her vagina as she could make it go. She wanted the new man’s penis as deep inside of her as she could get it to go so she would force it deeper by thrusting her pelvis into his pelvis while she was laying under him. She would do this with her new man in the very bed that I helped to pay for. And while she was doing this I was crying and complaining to everyone that I loved her and wanted her back and saying how I didn’t understand. Then I would go to my studio apartment and lay down in bed and masturbate before going to sleep while my wife was in the bed bought by me, her husband, giving sex to a new man who had a full head of hair. And the worse part of this story is that she will take me to the cleaners and leave me no money to pay for hair replacement surgery.

OK, I admit I laughed.  Well done, Zeets, you have shown once again how to lift one’s spirit at the expense of a tortured soul.  What have we learned from this?

The internet is a rain catch for every flavor of tear shed by man.  If you have a malady or a despair, no matter how peculiar, you will find someone else in the ASCII ether who shares your special brand of misery with whom to bond.  This is good for wallowing, bad for personal growth.

Laughing at the misfortunes of others comes disturbingly easy.

This benighted bald man needs an IV injection of Game, starting with deep deep deeeeeep inner game work.  Visualizing in technicolor brilliance your wife/girlfriend/mom boffing another man is the mental equivalent of plucking out your scrotum pubes one by one… slowly.  He should drown himself in tequila or punch brick walls if that’s what it takes to stop hearing the siren call of self-flagellation.

Make your penis go as far into the vagina as it will go, because it is good.

PS: Congratulations to anon for leaving my 1,000th comment.
anon, if you are a woman, i blow you a kiss.  please… keep your window open so that it may find its way to your lips.
if you are a man, i blow you a manly hug with three (and no more!) pats to the back.  please… keep your window open so that my macho hug may find its way to your open arms.

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