Jordan Peterson On Female Hypergamy

I’m convinced Jordan Peterson, perhaps Canada’s only shitlord worthy of the appellation, is a long-time reader of the Chateau. Watch this video of him discussing the reality of female hypergamy (a topic covered extensively at this blog) and its influence on the dating market and you’ll see why I think that he’s been a guest at the Chateau under a pseudonym.

1:26 — “human females engage in hypergamy…women mate across and up dominance hierarchies, men mate across and down”

1:49 — “the socioeconomic status of a woman determines almost zero of her attractiveness [to] a man, whereas the socioeconomic status of a man is a major determinant of his attractiveness to a woman”

“and it isn’t his wealth [that’s attractive to women]… it’s his capacity to generate and be productive and to share”

Welcome to the Chateau, Jordan. I’m sure you’ve enjoyed your stay here.

Game is learned charisma. Another way to look at it: Game is male hypergamy, allowing men to date “across and up” in the instinctual manner that women date. The art of charisma and social dominance is essentially a flip of the evolutionary script, in which the savvy man pulls the same biomechanical levers that the average woman pulls to satisfy her urge to date up or at minimum to date across.

A good metric for determining whether your Game is Tight is to keep a mental tally of the quality of women you bed compared to your pre-Game dating life. If the number of times you dumpster dive is decreasing and the number of times you successfully grab the HBrass ring is increasing from what you used to pull in your beta days, then Game has been your friend in fitness maximization.

PS Here’s Jordan on “the shackles of marriage”:

I laughed at this because it’s a backhanded and cynical defense of marriage. JP is saying that the benefit of the marriage shackle is that you’re forced to surrender the illusion of romantic idealism for the low expectations of a humdrum honesty. Hence, the popularity of Fifty Shades of Bullwhip with married women.

Diversity + Proximity = Rootlessness

One oft-ignored or unremarked upon consequence of proximal Diversity™ is the feedback loop it establishes with rootlessness. Rootlessness — aka social atomization — can enter a dissolution spiral when racial diversity passes a numerical threshold in which its social impacts are widely perceived and even more widely denied by anyone caught within its vibrancy perimeter.

White homeownership is probably the best economic indicator of the social connectedness that has defined Heritage America until 1965; most people buy homes for the long haul, so they expect to spend many years living side by side with neighbors they hope to tolerate, if not warmly befriend. If neighborhood churn is too high and demographic transitions from White to non-White are the norm across America rather than isolated trends, there will be a White generational retreat from home-buying because no one wants to invest in a neighborhood that may turn to shit in ten years time. Occurring alongside this retreat will be an increase in the numbers of Whites willing to roam the country and temporarily settle far away from friends and family for the promise of affordable rents and glimmers of a past homeland unfractured by racial shock waves.

So what happens in a Diversitopia is an increase in the White rate of renting and in the years spent renting before buying, negative trends which an obstinately pro-diversity, open borders government will try (and fail: cf 2008 housing crash) to artificially reverse. Juvenilia, urban coccooning, ideological cuckery, and arrested psychological development can be seen as ego-stroking accommodations to expanding diversity and the disincentive it creates to home-buying. If age of first home purchase and age of first marriage and first child are delayed, then a suite of emotionally regressive adaptations to the changed reality will help Whites rationalize their lowering living standards.

As the native White share of America’s total population dips below 50% in the coming decades, expect the juvenalization trend to accelerate.

The Great Men On Racial Envy

Joe Sobran, a journalist of integrity and fearlessness before the occupation became utterly discredited by venal leftoids, on racial envy of Whites:

And yet we in the West (hi, single white women!) are inviting into our homelands millions of nonWhites with burning, searing racial envy in their hearts, to live as our neighbors in name only, waiting, waiting for the day when their numbers are sufficient that they feel empowered to release their envious hate in an orgy of vengeful bloodletting.

Bad move.

An irony of the ugliest truths is that remembering and accepting them will best preserve the most honest beauty in the world.

What Age Is Curtain Call For Club Girls?

An observation, from me own eyes and time spent nestled deep in the booby-trapped dating trenches:

Girls drop out of the nightclub scene around age 25.

Some sooner, some later, but the curtain call age for girls seeking men in da club is on average about 25yo.

Clubbing is a young woman’s game. It takes spunk, junk, (maybe crunk), and….most importantly….the youthfully hottie good looks to inspire a same night spelunk.

I feel I was born with a talent for getting inside women’s heads and knowing how they tick, so this is what I’d guess goes on in the concentric mini-brain of the girly rationalization hamster that spins the wheel fueling the superfluous careercunt maxi-brain which envelops it:

The girl who hits 25 — and recall the CH axiom that peak female beauty and therefore fuckability and muse-ability is between the ages 15 and 25, give or take a few outliers — subconsciously knows her salad days are behind her. She may still be a looker, but the competition is wicked and slicked, and if the coolestasfuckness men are the point of her losing her hearing and sleep shouting in nightclubs until 2AM, then she’ll be passed over for the ripest peaches.

So there’s that subconscious signal flare warning her of rocky outcroppings ahead, but more pertinently there’s that instant feedback she gets when the male gaze doesn’t alight as firmly forcefully obsessively and a little psychopathically on her fruit stand like it did when she was younger. She’ll get stares from men, but they won’t be from the best men, and their stares will break off earlier than they used to, and get distracted easily by passing nancies.

Footnote: The curtain call age has been steadily rising, because of a number of sexual market disruptions and trendlines converging in post-America. I predict we may see an average nightclubbing female age of 30 in the near future as an increasing horde of single, childless mimosaettes desperate to avoid the detritus swamping online dating return to the classic meat market haunts.

It’s useful to contrast curtain call ages for club grilles and club monsters. Twenty-five is practically the START of a man’s clubbing career. It’s not uncommon to see men well into their 30s working the club floors and whores, as long as those men haven’t let themselves go to pot and know how to dress with a masculine sexy flair. The club curtain call ages mirror the bioreality of male and female reproductive fitness windows: women hit a higher max speed but crash early, men a lower max speed but ride longer.

A 35 year old woman in the club is pitiable. A 35 year old man in the club is pardonable.

The curtain call age for bars is a bit older, if for no other reason than that the absence of loud techno music, bathroom bumps, and frantic dancing are a relief to aging bodies and angsty minds. Fully grown oldsters will shamble around bars and no one will bat an eye. Still, women don’t like to throw their mate choice prerogative in with bars, either, but will feel less uncomfortable in bars than they do in clubs dogging it out until their early 30s if they are single and (god forbid!) swallowing patriarchal Pink Pills by the barrel.

Last call in bars is usually late 20s for most women who have need of a bar’s services. For men, it’s late 30s, even up to mid-40s. It occasionally needs repeating, because platitudes that stroke the gynarchy’s ego are tasty and mollifying: the average man enjoys a surplus fifteen years of romantic possibility over the average woman’s dating lifespan. This is why a 30 year old woman “settles” while a 30 year old man “relents”. It’s the difference between catastrophe insurance and early retirement.

The Five Stages Of Game

A cheeky wag commenting on a blog post titled “The Five Stages of HBD” offered the Game version of the post’s subject:

Stage-1 (Denial): “What is this cavemanish-sounding “Game” of which you speak? Actually, I’d rather you didn’t answer that.”

Stage-2 (Anger): “SEEEXIIISST!!!”

Stage-3 (Bargaining): “… but even if Game is real, it doesn’t mean anything, does it? You know, women like soft cuddly fat guys, right? Game only works on a certain kind of girl… (or something).”

Stage-4 (Depression): “Who could possibly have imagined that reality was so evil?”

Stage-5 (Acceptance): “Feminism really has been a mountain of dishonest garbage, hasn’t it? Guess it’s time to learn Game or die lonely in Mom’s basement playing World of Warcraft…”

Interestingly, that post was from 2013, so the Rude Word of Game has been percolating through the blogocultural consciousness for a while. Le Chateau Heartiste may be a world wide web outpost, but its ideas have traveled the globe enlightening minds and engorging…souls….from a time when the red pill was still a Matrix movie gimmick and not a manosphere or alt-Right buzzmeme.

Chicks Dig Violent Porn

Recently, researchers have discovered what yer ‘umble proprietor of this scandalous Chateau was telling you long long time: chicks dig violent, rape-y, dominating sex because it is in the nature of women to feel incredibly aroused submitting to a powerful, even sadistic, man, and this feeling is universal among women.

Credentialist (((cipher))), 2017:

The popular feminist narrative would have you believe that porn is largely consumed by men, and that depictions of violent — or at least rough — sex would be a primarily male-dominated interest.

This is untrue, states researcher Seth Stephens-Davidowitz, who says that porn featuring violence against women is significantly more popular among women compared to men. […]

“The rate at which women watch violent porn is roughly the same in every part of the world. It isn’t correlated with how women are treated,” he stated.

Perspicacious Heartiste, 2010:

Romance novels, read almost entirely by women, are flush full of rape fantasies. If fantasy (or as I like to call it, “hyperreality”) didn’t reflect reality then we would hear and read of fantasies by women featuring beta males, short dweebs, nerdos, fatsos, and charmless stutterers in the role of desired man. But we don’t. Women’s fantasies, like men’s fantasies, provide a window into a wished-for reality where all options are available, all choice catered to, all desires quenched. Rape fantasy, despite the protestations to the contrary of the “fantasy is different than reality” crowd, is as much a reflection of real female desire as any other form of sexual fantasy.

Women fantasize about a lot of things that no one argues don’t reflect reality if that reality were an option. What fantasizing woman wouldn’t truly want to be a princess who gets swept off her feet by a prince living in a castle? What single woman who dreams it wouldn’t sleep with Johnny Depp in real life if he propositioned her? These are common fantasies of women which they never argue aren’t reflections of how they wish reality were. So why should we grant a plenary indulgence to rape fantasies? How is it that rape fantasy is the one glaring exception to the reality-reflection rule? Men also fantasize about stuff like threesomes with supermodels, but no one in their right mind would argue that men don’t actually want threesomes with supermodels in reality, if having them were possible. (Wives or girlfriends, don’t bother asking your partners. You won’t get an honest answer.) […]

Rape fantasy reflects a deep, inborn, uncompromising sexual desire by women to be rendered helpless, almost childlike, by a more powerful man. It is the submissive scrawling of their hindbrains, a message in a novel sailing forth from the female limbic labyrinth. And from submission to a dominant male force is born the strongest love.

I loved that he was so powerful I was nothing.
– O

Does this mean women would be sexually turned on by real life rape? It is a question not so easily dismissed when we begin to examine closely the sexual fantasies of women. Dismissed it is, though, because no one — man or woman — wants to creak open the vault door that houses such primeval female decadence. For if women do harbor secret desires for dark seductions, then what is left of the pretext to chivalry? Women benefit from some amount of cultural pedestalization. *Societies* benefit. There is no room in a healthy, functioning society for mischievous inquisitors to lay bare the true soul of woman.

If you want to read the raw uncut ugly truths about women before they’re regurgitated in opaque chunks by big data nerds and media whores years later, you read at Chateau Heartiste. Accept no substitute.

Thot Of The Day

The plastic surgery industry wouldn’t exist if there wasn’t an objective standard of beauty.

Think about it.