Sexiest Vagnette

A Test Of Your Game: Sudden Impact

UPDATE BELOW

Reader sigsawyer emailed a story about one of his pickups that could double as a “test of your Game” post. I’m game, so here it is.

Greetings to the Chateau and all its dark proprietors.

I’ve got a recent story of pickup success that I realized would be great as one of those old ‘test of your game’ style posts. It’s, um, illustrative to say the least. If you decide to make a post out of it, cut the ‘answer’ part off and post it a couple of days later. Or just share as is and judge my game.

So the other night I take a couple of junior coworkers out to the bar. Both on visas from Eastern Europe. [ed: I like where this is heading] One being cute and the other maybe a 5. Both have killer bodies, but I digress. (Much fun was poked at fat American women.) I’d already more or less written off the cute one as a prospect since I’d taken her out before and failed to get anywhere.

On that occasion I took her down to the beach late at night with a bottle of pinot noir and we went skinny dipping in the warm choppy waters of the summer Atlantic. Aka the nuclear pussy-buster date for when I need the snatch to open now.

No doubt. If you’ve ever swam (swum?) in the ocean at night, especially away from light pollution, there’s an exhilarating apprehension that creeps up on you. The sea is black, the sound of the surf is sharpened, the moonlight dances off the water, and you wonder if sharks are swimming nearby. It’s a COCKtail of emotions guaranteed to doubly moisten pussy.

I was set on bold bustamoveness because her English wasn’t good enough to catch nuanced negs and witty banter. Besides, I know those EE girls need a show of strength to crack their icy bitch shield. And I’m talking a smug, haughty girl here. An openly rude one. So I ramp up the teasing and assholery- splashing her with water, pretending to be Jaws and chasing after her, biting her leg.

She’s giving me plenty of shit tests (mostly accusations of assholery, childishness), and they don’t stop once I’ve parried a few. But then again, she stripped naked and got in the water with me, and she’s not objecting to the kino. So I move in for a kiss and she resists it. At the time I figure that since I’m the senior, the local, and a coolasfuck dude, that I’d actually raised my value too high and gotten her anti-slut defense to rev up. It’s a recurring problem for my game.

So I dial back the interaction, move on to some comfort themes, and try to get her focused on the emotional high of the moment. But she’s not biting, we get cold in the water, and the mood fizzles out while we’re grubbing around the dark beach for our clothes. So I drive her carless ass home.

Anyway, I don’t put much thought into following up since I’ve got a few in the kitty and she’s legit a pain in the ass. But I end up inviting her and her friend out to the bar, figuring I could either use the two girls as a pivot or spark something back up. The 5 is a fun girl even if my target is a brat, so I’d be able to entertain myself at least, or plunder her lithe little body as a last resort.

In the bar, one of the cheaper places in town, we run into some of my friends out of sheer coincidence and I make introductions. I’m acting pretty aloof, enjoying how unsurprised my buddies are about me walking into the spot with two Euro chicks.

Good friends will not blow your cover by hollering crap like “wow dude two chicks! high five, playa!”

The girls can tell too, but I’m not putting much effort into gaming them. I hit on two other chicks in close proximity- one is too wasted to even understand Styles ring routine and the other gets engaged when I tease her SWPLy job, but her mixed set doesn’t really appreciate my intrusion and we awkwardly fizzle out- I was a bit too tipsy to give a shit about befriending the group first.

Eventually the scene gets lame and we move the party over to my friend’s house nearby- we’re out back around a fire and I’ve been basically ignoring my target all night, except to tell her she drinks manly beer and to tease her about not wanting to dance. My other friends are trying to hit on her but its not going any better than my first time. One of my friends starts making out with the 5 in front of everybody. They eventually retire to somewhere private. I tell my target “Don’t get any ideas, I value my modesty”. She gets up from her Aderondack chair and slowly pours her drink over my head.

What do you do? Hint: I fucked up back on the beach, but I was wrong about how.

This is a great segue into serious Game analysis. An icy HBEE that walked away from a post-skinny-dipping beach lay later pours a beer over the head of the same man at a backyard party. And a SLOW pour, too, which is intended to send a much stronger message than a fast pour. Sigsawyer left the answer after this segue, but I’ll ignore it for now to put my own powers of pickup critique to the test.

My take is that he blew it by letting up on the attraction gas pedal at the beach, when she was amped and ready for a same night lay. Sure, she put up token resistance (what hot woman doesn’t?), but sigsawyer miscalculated when he dialed down the heat and went into comfort mode. The scene and the feelings were too intense by that point for a reverse into comfort game to do anything but diminish the girl’s arousal. And a girl taken from a high arousal state to a lower arousal state will resent the man who did it to her.

Essentially, where sigsawyer messed up was moving the seduction phase before the comfort phase. He brought her to a “fuck me now” high then took her back down to “an uninterested man asking me harmless questions about my life” low.

Thus, when she was with him at the backyard party, and he was still teasing her, she misinterpreted his taunts as that of a man who had rejected her and was having fun at her expense. You could say she almost felt betrayed. The slow pour was her way of expressing her feeling of being betrayed. All of her resentment is exacerbated by the sight of her less cute friend making out with another man.

What I would do: If I had a drink in my hand, I would splash it in her face. If not, I would grab her wrist and move in close, so that she could feel my hot breath and my anger. Then, I’d wait a few beats for the tension to grow and make another move on her lips. This is the kind of girl who’s in a frame of mind in which only direct, uninhibited, masculine escalation will suffice to break down her bitch shield.

Was I right? I’ll check sigsawyer’s answer later, and update this post with his story’s conclusion. In the meantime, I’ll throw this test of your game to the commenters. Is your Game analysis tight? Could you have closed the deal with HBEE?

****

And now we find out how the story ended. From sigsawyer,

ANSWER:
I look her in the eye for a pregnant second. Then, without standing up, I slap her hard across the face. Like a tight right hook with an open hand. Her eyes light up and suddenly everything clicks. The first time I tried to fuck her? She wasn’t turned off by my copious douchery, she was turned off because she was the kind of chick who gave guys shit because she wanted to be put in her damn place. I reach up, grab her hair, and yank her down to my mouth; she responds with moaning, crotch-soaked enthusiasm. We end up fucking in the backyard of an empty vacation house on the walk back to her room.

If you’d told me pre-redpill that I would be picking up hot Eastern Euro girls by slapping them Sean Connery-style… well I’d be fucking elated if I believed you. But it’s a good lesson to never forget the dark heart of woman.

Yep as I suspected, sigsawyer ruined the beach night by moving from arousal backwards into comfort blabbing, and that’s why she poured the beer over his head. But recall ancient CH wisdom: Indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love. A slow-poured beer over the head is another way of saying a deluge of tingles in the cleft. The beer was her resentment and frustration; his response immediately and unquestioningly snapped her back into that arousal state she was in during the skinny-dip beach night. His alpha ZFG masculinity now proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was able to flower for him and answered his primal display with her own.

And yes, my experience with EE girls is that they are very particular about their men showing real alpha grit. EE women need to know their men can be hard as fuck (in all manifestations of that term) when it matters. Their shit tests are geared to eliciting the most masculine response possible. Few American beta males pass these tests because they can’t even.

The Revolution Will Be Advertised

Comment of the Week winner Days of Broken Arrows, writing from the perspective of a former insider to the print magazine world, has an excellent summary of what drives a lot of the magazine and newspaper poz that is nearly reaching saturation point in America.

I used to write for magazines and newspapers and, in fact, wrote for a former Teen Vogue editor at one of the newspapers. And I can tell you this: In the mags, close to 100 percent of what’s written is advertiser-driven.

Those “outrageous” articles on anal sex and subjects like that aren’t so outrageous when you learn that the makers of K-Y Jelly (or some other such company) has bought full-page ads and that’s why the articles are being written. And all those other oh-so-wild “boundary-breaking” teen sex articles? Check the ads for contraceptives. There’s big money there. Mags don’t get that kind of advertising revenue writing about nice flowers or coffee tables.

Advertising didn’t always drive content. Once upon a time there was “a wall” that separated the ad division and the editorial division. The reason for this was so that the editorial side could operate independent of influences and be objective. But by the mid-1990s, fewer people were buying newspapers and magazines, so out of desperation, editors started to “tear down the wall” and grudgingly accepted some influence from advertisers.

But then came the massive influence of the Internet, which no newspapers could foresee (because editors lived in a bubble and didn’t heed warning of writers like myself). The Internet decimated newspaper and magazine circulation. Craigslist alone destroyed classified sections, which kept many a newspaper’s cash flowing.

The Web’s popularity caused advertisers to run from print and ran to the Web. So, to keep the revenue coming in, editors willingly tore down that advertising/content wall. They then let the ad execs march into the newsroom to give marching orders (metaphorically speaking).

And this brings me to my main point. Liberals/Democrats are now gloating about how it’s so wonderful that “the revolution is being led by Teen Vogue and Cosmo.” It isn’t. It’s being led by the big corporations that buy the ads that keep those mags in business.

So, once again, we see that the so-called “independent thinkers” are pawns of the corporate state. What they think is liberating is basically Big Pharma forcing the hand of editors to assign articles that will help them sell The Pill, the Morning After Pill, and whatever else women are taking these days.

I hope it’s not too bad a surprise for shitlibs when the curtain is pulled back and they’re forced to realize that the “leaders” they’re following aren’t Ivy League writers but Merck and Johnson & Johnson.

Gullible shitlibs suck the cock of corporate fat cats and praise poz-pushing greedy CEOs as “the moral conscience of America”, not realizing that they are utter dupes of “the Man” and the machine that they used to rage against but now enrich with their virtue sniveling support.

Interestingly, the wall between advertising and editorializing that is now crumbled to the ground corrupts not just editorial content, but the hiring process at these pozpaganda factories. If Merck or Amazon are running the editorial boards and deciding the content of our esteemed newspapers and glam mags of record, then those essentially corporate PR organs will gradually attract into their hiring pools the kinds of typists and pundits who sincerely believe in the degenerate, lying, fake crap that corporate America wants them to write to better push their products.

So I think gaystream media shitlib writers are more than just useful idiots scammed by the capitalist pigs they once hated; they are true believers. And the corporatocracy loves nothing more than a phalanx of faithful poz-dealers who don’t have to be bribed for their services. They’ll just show up with a smile and a thesaurus of snarky lib phrases, ready and eager to do the fat cats’ bidding.

The Telltale Physiognomy

Trump has done well in the aftermath of the Texas hurricane, so naturally the Gaystream Media are turning the focus of their agitprop firepower onto Melania Trump’s shoes in order to deny the Golden Don any positive covefefe. Via Gabber @kgrace:

Just for perspective:

THIS is the vogue writer who wrote about Melania’s inappropriate shoes upon arrival in Texas.

The mutant leftoid hag above is Lynn Yaeger, fashion typist for Vogue. She’s a fashion expert, you see. You do see it, right Winston? Right? *caged rats chitter hungrily*

The Ugly resentfully lash out at the Beautiful, and the media frame it as the moral reprimands of unbiased third party sources.

The cleansing fire of Truth and Beauty can’t come soon enough.

Trump Doesn’t Have Political Capital, He Has People Capital

Maul-Right rallies and protests in the heart of shitlib shires are important contributions to shifting the Weltanshauung to sanity, because (as reader PA might say) it’s good strategic sense to let shitlibs know they can’t strut around the public space anymore like they own it.

But rightist rallies, whether peripheral alt-right LARPfests or stadium-sized Trump throngs of Heritage America normies, won’t get the MAGA job done by themselves.

It’s fairly well grasped by even Joe Schmoe that Trump has no friends in the corrupt ruling class. The Dems, the GOPe, the media, the Creep State, academia, Big Tech, the billionaires, the Mohel Minority…they all hate Trump and all work tirelessly to thwart his nationalist populism vision. The evil arrayed against Trump is truly impressive, and terrible in scope. Even a God Emperor can’t stand against those odds and win without a little help from his friends. His friends…the half of the American people who voted for him.

As Agnostic writes, we the people are Trump’s leverage.

The oligarchic groups all desperately want the general public to butt out of politics, and Trump has a unique and distinct ability to turn the public loose on the political battlefield, and the oligarchs have no way to immediately shove the public back off. So that’s quite a bit of leverage, if applied.

Maybe that means motivating them to turn out at the polling stations to determine the winner of an election, and maybe it means motivating them to turn out to the Mall in DC, where millions of citizens assemble to order the Pentagon to get the hell out of Afghanistan (and other places).

What is the RNC or the DNC going to do to counter-act our collective action at the ballot box — rig tens of millions of votes? And what is the Pentagon going to do to counter-act a massive assembly demanding an end to our failed and wasteful foreign policies — open fire on millions of normal citizens? I don’t think so. They won’t be able to ignore that level of escalation from the people, and will have to fold lest it get worse. […]

But left by himself, Trump has very little power to inflict damage on the enemy groups or individuals — he needs his supporters to act as a force multiplier.

That base is nothing to scoff at. They can rescue this nation from the brink of a suicidal plunge into globohomo banana republicanism and tyrannical corporatocracy. But only if Trump calls on them, and only if they — you and I — are willing to step up and be his force multiplier.

On that note, what we should strive toward is a Great Cuck Chuck of 2018. Political and social agitation can create a groundswell for the ousting of GOPe cucks, either by primarying them or, if necessary, by supporting any halfway sane Dems against them in the general mid-term election. Traitors first, enemies second.

Trump may have to wait until after the 2018 midterms when the cucks are swept from power to begin enacting his pro-Heritage America agenda with a vengeance. Trump can play a part in making the Great Cuck Chuck of 2018 happen by dissociating himself from Congress as much as possible. Withhold his endorsements, endorse upstart populists, talk about “working with sensible Dems because the GOP isn’t interested in making America great again”, etc.

I believe Trump has his heart in the right place, and he is being strangled into assuming a lowly figurehead status by the denizens of The Swamp. But our God Emperor should not think he’s alone. He may have no friends in power, but he has power in his friends — ordinary Americans who voted for him because they rightly sensed the Deep State Globohomo Establishment is their enemy.

Pantifa Violence

Here’s a video clip of a pantifa loser assaulting an elderly, wheelchair-bound veteran.

A disabled old man is about the level of opposition that pantif@gs can handle without wetting their panties.

The Gaystream Media, as usual, is uninterested in reporting the facts of leftoid pantifa violence. Their preferred narrative today is menstruating over Melania Trump’s shoe choice.

Has CuckRyan disavowed pantifa yet? Or is he still busy bending over for his Globohomo paymasters?

Male Choosiness As An SMV Amplifier

A very powerful feeling for a man is walking out on a date because the girl dissatisfied him with her opinions or behavior.
Very few men do this.
More men should.
It’s exhilarating and builds masculine character, which has positive knock on effects for other girls he dates.

Male choosiness — and the associated behavior that naturally emerges from it — is a male SMV amplifier. Men who express a refined, discriminating taste in women, and an exquisite discernment of which women qualify for the pleasure of his company, are adored by women because choosy men have an aura of preselection. The choosy man becomes the chased, rather than the chaser.

It’s a lot easier to call the shots and direct the tempo when you’re the one being chased.

Adhering to exacting standards in women is a strong signal of attractiveness to women, given that women will assume, usually rightly, that a man willing to cavalierly reject potential mates is a man who has many other women in his queue. He is therefore “that guy* aka the alpha male of women’s dreams.

Then there is the rarity and unpredictability of male choosiness. When the average woman can go years, or even a lifetime, without suffering the indignity of a man walking out on her during a date for failing to meet his expectations in feminine demeanor, the rare man who pulls off the feat will seem a Golden God to her. She will invest so much dreamscape energy into wondering why he rejected her and what he has going on for himself that she’ll gasp with sudden and self-conscious arousal if she sees him crossing the street months later.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the choosy man enriches an inner reservoir of self-entitlement and self-confidence that is absolutely thrilling to women. Try it sometime. If you date enough women, you will inevitably come across an ur-cunt. You know the type; she stares at her phone during the date, hassles the wait staff, and talks about her exes, all the while demanding to know in so many words what you have to offer to her.

The mediocre masses of beta males would just grin and bear it, hoping their awful date has a last minute change of heart when her nasty woman turns into a sex goddess and ends the beta’s night on a thigh note. That never happens for the beta, but still…beta persisted.

The triumph of hope over experience is the beta male’s epitaph.

Instead of slip-streaming into the void of faceless nutless beta males that women treat with the same consideration they do houseplants, be one of those exciting jerkboys who prematurely deep sixes a date when the girl is cunting out. I promise, she’ll never forget you after that. I also promise that you’ll feel an incomparable rush of power. This is your mind-body axis telling you that what you did will ricochet to your reproductive fitness benefit in the future with other girls.

That glow of power is unmistakable to you, and it’s acutely perceptible to women, who have evolved a sensitive limbic radar for picking up cues of dominance and power and mastery in men.

PS Here’s Ryan Reynolds’ with the solid photoneg.

Happy Birthday to my amazing wife. pic.twitter.com/7vulMXqOdp

— Ryan Reynolds (@VancityReynolds) August 26, 2017