Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Tease Girls Right Away

Teasing — aka foreplay — is to girls what firm D cups and a perfect pert ass are to men. Most men think teasing is something that’s supposed to happen later, after a warming-up period when the man is on his best behavior trying to impress the girl.

Oh no no. You should start teasing girls from the word hello.

My first tease can drop as early as the girl asking my name.

GIRL: “What’s your name?”
BEELZEBUB’S BODY DOUBLE: “Amanda Huggenkiss/Jacques Strap/Seymour Butz”

Then I hold for applause (or an eye twinkle). Sometimes the girl gets the joke, sometimes not. It doesn’t really matter, because most of the time she’ll ask if that’s my real name.

GIRL: “No, really, what’s your name?”
BEELZEBUB’S BODY DOUBLE: “I read somewhere that women love men with an air of mystery. Why would you want to ruin that?”

Notice I don’t answer the girl’s demands with any sort of promptness. Instead, I rib her. Breaking rapport is an attractive trait that signals comfort and ease in the company of women, which in turn signals @#ALPHA. A beta male never breaks rapport because he’s so focused on seeking a girl’s approval that he follows her every word like a dutiful stenographer, and answers her every question like a teacher’s pet.

A good tease will provoke a smile and possibly a tingle from even the bitchiest women. Don’t fear the tease. Deploy it early and often. If a girl isn’t mock angry and faux indignant, you aren’t doing your job as a sexy man.

The goal of feminism is to remove all constraints on female sexuality while maximally restricting male sexuality.

CH wrote the above not long ago to describe the purpose, in practice if not specifically elucidated in theory, of feminism. But what is the emotional impetus that motivates feminists? For that, we must dig deeper. Come out and plaaay, little id.

One, feminism is a hissy fit ugly women menstruate all over pretty women.

According to Benenson, a common way women deal with the threat represented by a remarkably powerful or beautiful woman is by insisting on standards of equality, uniformity, and sharing for all the women in the group and making these attributes the normative requirements of proper femininity.

Two, feminism is the revealed hatred that sexually undesirable women have for male sexuality. Feminists loathe male desire. They loathe it because it represents everything female sexuality is not — free, idealistic, romantic, reckless, unencumbered, insistent, bold, cheerful — and because the active and intrusive and JUDGMENTAL nature of male sexuality throws the physical desirability of women into stark relief. When a man ignores you to hit on your friend, that is as stone cold a judgment of your sexual worth as can be found in the state of nature. When a man can’t get a boner for a woman, well, that’s an event horizon rejection.

Evidence for feminist loathing of male desire comes distilled in this news story about a post-Lolita who was asked to change out of her Daisy Dukes because she was violating the school dress code. The Hivemind, as per usual, lined up behind (heh) the slutty attention whore to, essentially, denounce boys for having sex drives which compel them to furtively glance at barely concealed booty and get distracted from their schoolwork.

As commenter PA writes,

High school girl protests slutty clothes uniform code. Says that boys should be instructed to not look to them sexually instead. Adults, including major media, validate girl’s queef.

The more I see of modern West in its ugly and moronic totality, the more life behind the Iron Curtain in the seventies looked like paradise in comparison.

A healthy, rational, and sane society that was at peace with itself would understand that men and women have different biologically based sex drives, and that it would be cruel to subject boys, or girls, to social disruptions and insults that unnecessarily and extravagantly torment them and pull them away from their learning. (CH PSA: Bring back single sex schooling.)

But we don’t live in a sane country anymore. This sort of boy-bashing is not just ugly…. as Dalrymple said, it’s humiliating. If you aren’t on your knees in prostration kissing the feet of equalist priestesses, you just aren’t submitting hard enough.

To compound the problem, the nature of men’s sexuality is such that it’s easier for leftoid propagandists to humiliate them. Men rely on visual cues for sexual stimulation. It’s thus a simple matter to chastise men for their “leering objectification” and “contribution to rape culture” when they understandably gawk at scantily clad temptresses, and to then demand from men the Danegeld of self-abnegation. Call it the Danegelding.

But demanding the same humiliating abnegation from women, should our Hivemind queen bitches ever contemplate it, proves much more daunting. Women are sexually stimulated by a constellation of male attributes, many of which are invisible to the naked eye — male personality, humor, wealth, popularity, skill, etc — so isolating and condemning “female sexual privilege” or female “contribution to hypergamy culture” is a conveniently impossible trick to pull off. Where to aim? At doe-eyed girls doing the homework of dreamy jerkboys?

A sex equivalent scenario would be hard to piece together. Perhaps air drop a rock star into a high school classroom and tell the girls on threat of expulsion to refrain from gawking at him or giggling uncontrollably when he smiles? Crisis and observation, a wag might call it. Or, what’s good for the goose…

Look around and you can’t help but notice it’s feminist metaphorical guns at boys’ heads and groins, now and forever. And their firepower increases by the day.

The modern West deserves nothing less than exhaustion and death. Suffrage was a fucking huge mistake.

 

Men should generally avoid confirming dates, but there are ways to do it with alpha flair.

A reader contributes his version of date confirmations that he says has gone very well for him.

Hey I thought you’d like this. I came up with this funny confirmation.

My text: This is a courtesy reminder that you have a date with me on Thursday. I require at least 24 hours notice if you need to cancel. Please confirm your appointment with me at your earliest convenience.

Her text: Haha Confirmed!! Where are we going?

Mission accomplished 🙂 I thought perhaps you’d like to share this with the readers in a new post.

Sure. I like it. It sounds like you’re a hot commodity with a tight schedule. And it’s sardonically impersonal, which is good when you want to create some distance between the aloof impression you wish to leave and the beta confirmation maneuvering you must accommodate.

If you must commit an act of treasonous betaphilia, you can soften the self-betrayal by filtering it through a smart alecky cleverness algorithm.

CougarLife.com

A distinct pleasure of being alive during the decline and fall of a Western world power is bearing witness to the technicolor debris that spins off of rapid cultural collapse. CougarLife.com is one such belch of asocial ejecta. The promo video is short and sweet, so recline poolside and sip your Molotai cocktail as CH presents to you a dating website dedicated to matching imminent Wall victims with inexperienced younger men hauling a knapsack of blue balls.

CougarLife.com’s catchphrase is “Meet divorcees, single moms, and sexy singles looking for a young stud!” (Studs are called “cubs” for female members trying to emulate Mrs. Robinson.)

The revelation in this cheesy ad is the surprising bounty of (unintentional) bracing truth. Of course, the truth is mixed in with a dollop of sophistic slop, but it doesn’t take much reading between the lines to uncover some timeless Heartistian shivs.

So let’s play a game. (“Let’s not and say we did”, says the recovering beta practicing his alpha chops.) Watch the vid, and list all the ways it conforms to sexual market realities. See if you found as many sterile Easter eggs as CH.

.

.

.

.

OK, here’s what I found.

1. Right out of the spinster gate, a roar of propaganda hits us. Few cougars are as Hand-Alternative-Threshold-Exceeded (HATE)* fuckable as porn star Julia Ann. Your typical cougar looks like this:

grandma why are you clawing my chest?

The Wall feasts most gluttonously on former beauties who never thought the day of reckoning would come. I’m not about to make an account to tally what kinds of mangy cougars are on offer, but I’d be surprised if Julia Ann quality cougars numbered more than 1 out of 100. 1 out of 1,000 might even be pushing the odds.

By way of comparison, your typical man — cub, as it were — who joins a dating site specializing in cougars, single moms, and divorcees looks like this:

it’s been ten years! my precious fell off.

2. “So are you tired of meeting the same types of girls in bars?” Translation from the cougarese: “So are you ready for an easier if less visually stimulating lay?”

3. Julia Ann shoves a sandwich in the face of a not particularly skinny younger woman, (the girl’s reply: “Ugh, meat!”), implying she needs to grow some curves. Notwithstanding the absurdity of the implication (the younger woman is far from anorexic), this amply demonstrates the anti-feminist ugly truth that women are other women’s most misogynistic enemies.

4. A younger woman snidely remarks on her date’s job as a “computer geek”. Julia Ann leans in (her giant tits leading the way) and reminds the girl she folds sweaters for a living. Awesome reframe… which would be far more useful to a man who wanted to knock down the self-esteem of a bona fide hottie a peg or two.

5. Older women may know what they want (“young guys”, according to our esteemed MILF, because apparently the older guys are too busy chasing younger women), but that doesn’t mean they automatically get it. The presumption that cougars can get sex when they want it from younger men rests on the unspoken premise that the kinds of men most likely to take up the offer are undersexed goons or desperate virgins. Or non-famous YOLO black guys. And even that low grade supply will get cut off once terminal Wall impact is achieved.

6. Younger woman (to her date): “Buy me a drink?” Cougar drop kicks her and assumes her place. She smiles at the man, “How about I buy *you* a drink?” This is just a plain admission that older women have to price themselves lower if they want a scrap of male attention that younger, hotter, tighter women take for granted. (Note: The guy sitting across from her doesn’t look all that young.)

A sexual landscape of prowling unmarried cougars, single moms, and divorcees forced into settling for two minutes of cartoon love with awkward dweebs ten beers deep is indicative of a fraying society. All boundaries are coming apart; the hedonist impulse is the last standing principle. Interestingly, CH not only predicted the rise of cougardom, we held it up as an ideal arrangement in an anarchic sex bazaar where the broken incels and insols pile higher than the 99% vacancy rate Burj. Neophyte beta males increasingly getting shut out of the sexual carnival can get their rocks (and their apprehensions) off in the dusty muffs of grateful cougars, while older, suaver players can scoop up the younger morsels for long time love.

*Hand-Alternative-Threshold-Exceeded (HATE) Fuckability is a simple concept: Given a den of cougars (or other category of mostly undesirable women) and a lack of better options, how many are more interesting to your penis than your crabbed hand? For most normal men with functioning self-esteems and some experience bedding younger women, there will hardly be more than a tiny fraction of cougars capable of stimulating arousal beyond that which can be accomplished with one’s hand and imagination. The few cougars that can outclass your hand are said to be HATE fucks.

The HATE fuck ratio is actually a very useful stat for measuring a man’s standards and discriminating taste (which, ultimately, are themselves contributing factors as well as conspicuous indicators of his overall SMV). For example, if urgency and circumstance dictate an opportunistic cost-free 30 second rutting, and you are willing to fuck one cougar in a roomful of one hundred stalking cougars, then your HATE fuck ratio is 1:100.

The higher your ratio, the lower your standards, and the more you hate yourself for requiring the shabby hole of a bottom shelf jezebel to alleviate your incel. That is the essence of the HATE fuck… a tepid squirt of pallid pleasure in exchange for your dignity and psychologically distressing confirmation that this is the best you might ever do.

Consider yourself lucky if you have a HATE fuck ratio of 1:100. Some omega males shuffle along this mortal coil carrying the burden of a 1:2 HATE fuck ratio. Imagine being that guy who surveys the wrinkled menu at a cougar convention or the buffet at a NAAFA mixer and thinks to himself, “Yeah, I’m desperate. I could make myself sexually available to at least half of these assembly line rejects.” If you’re that guy… WAYSA?

Via Leopard of the Blogosphere, a Salon article written by a woman about all the six figure techie beta male nerds moving to Seattle to work for Amazon and how this massive influx of single, well-off, and available men is doing nothing to spice up the dating market for women.

Why were they so awful? What was it about guys who work in tech that made them worse than lawyers or other white-collar industries?

In a way they exhibit some of the same qualities of those professions—ego, arrogance, and unlimited amounts of cash. In San Francisco, said Violet, “There were a lot of men to date with disposable income who wanted to take women out. It’s just, it was so boring,” she said. “My dating life went from dating artists and writers and going on cheap but exciting dates, to men who thought the ability to buy someone an expensive meal made them interesting.”

Violet is like many young, prime nubility women — a cheap date with a man who has that ineffable alpha attitude is far more intoxicating to them than is an expensive date with a beta male who plays by the traditional courtship rules.

The choice is simple: You can pay $150 for a nice dinner for two in a pricey SWPL enclave and pull her chair out like a gentleman while flashing your Amazon employee card, or you can meet at a dive club and pound $3 PBRs while asking her if she ever pervily listened in on a roommate having sex. Option one guarantees gloomy late night batin’. Option two gets you laid.

Beta males bring two things to the table that enable them, in however limited a capacity, to compete with alpha males: Their provisions and their dependability. But as we are seeing, modern women have begun to value both of those things far less than they used to. A beta male who thinks that making beaucoup bucks and showing a lady a fine time on his dime will arouse her to sexual receptivity simply has no concept of female sexual nature. His money won’t save him. He needs an attitude adjustment, and a better idea of the sorts of conversations and activities that women love.

The beta male torrent is so bad in Seattle that the local women are going to gay bars to avoid them and get their fun drama fix.

The problem has become pervasive enough in Seattle that when I went with a few girlfriends to Pony, one of the last true gay bars on Capitol Hill, I was shocked when I found out that the adorable pair of 25-year-old boys talking to us were heterosexual. They were there because—as one of them told us—”It was the only place on the Hill on the weekends where there are no bros.”

Beta males are so unattractive to women that they are not only being outcompeted by alpha males, but also by gay males who have no interest in sex with women. Women would rather do away with the prospect of sex in exchange for a fun time with a gay man who “gets it”, than endure a single boring date with a rich beta male who can give them a life of ease and luxury.

COTW winner is AspergersKills, who relates a night when the vibe seemed formidable and he had to dig deep and remember that it’s a man’s evolutionarily assigned job to make the first move.

To give an immediate example of how this forum helps men, I went into an upscale karaoke restaurant last night to eat. I quickly noticed that I was the only male amid 50 twenty one year old girls celebrating their 2 year college graduation. I sat down in a leather lounge chair at a table between them and the place where singers tend to perform. They would stand over me and cheer their friends. But, in the first twenty minutes I was there, they would not make eye contact with me or otherwise recognize my existence in any way.

Most men would feel humiliated by this. They see it as belittling and unfair that women pay no attention to male strangers and that women try not to make eye contact. Elliott Rodger would probably want to go block the exits and burn the place down after experiencing what I had last night. The few men who did show up at the restaurant over the course of the evening, shrunk into themselves because the group of 50 really hot young women was quite intimidating.

But I remembered something I read here once, that the best way to break ice at a karaoke joint is to choose a song requiring a duet and then ask a woman to help out with the duet. I went up to the DJ and, just then, one of the three best looking of the graduation gang came down to choose a song as well. I learned later that she was hoping I would talk to her. I did. I asked her to complete the duet I chose and she was thrilled to help.

The duet performance went great and all 50 girls applauded us. That earned me big points with everyone as well. There’s a PUA term I forgot the name of that describes what happens when a girl’s companions mostly seem to like you. It opens the Heavens with light. Soon they were competing to sing duets with me and they’d lounge in the 3 empty leather chairs at my table, their gorgeous legs up on the table. I felt like the sultan of swing. Without thinking about it, I would lean back in my chair and put my arms out along the back of it, or drink my coffee by holding the cup itself instead of the handle, mild pieces of advice I picked up here and internalized.

Meanwhile the other guys got zero attention from the girls and sat like introverts leaning into their drinks mumbling to each other.

The most uncomfortable part of the evening for me was figuring out whose number to get, recognizing that there was an element of losing out on dating one of the other 49 if I didn’t do it the right way. It was also true that I only really connected with 5 of the 50 over the course of the evening. As this site notes, it is a numbers game. Some people just aren’t into each other no matter what their behavior (or looks).

So sites like this teach positive behavioral modification to prevent guys from shrinking into themselves in the presence of hot women. I wasn’t “acting” last night. I just chose a clever way of introducing myself and becoming part of a group.

These kinds of stories bring a tear to me eye, they do.

***

COTW runner-up is Just Saying. And he’s just got something to say about tapping into that sexy female id.

They crave the drama, and get antsy when it’s missing.

This is one of the things that I look for. We (one of my girls) and I were at a family theme park earlier this year, and there was a family. Young children, Mom (hot little blonde early 30′s) and the Father and an older couple that I later learned was his parents. So my girl (20 yo, brunette) and I were sitting having a fast-food dinner – when Mom and Dad start arguing. Didn’t really matter why but it was obvious that Mom wasn’t happy – of course. So she goes storming off (I enjoyed watching her jiggle-past), and my girl says to me, “I think that’s my cue. I’ll call you in a few if all goes well,” and takes off not that far behind while I finish the burger and fries and sit and enjoy the view. Good to her word she calls and says she has a “new” friend and are heading to the car,

Long story short – Mom wasn’t happy that for most of the last week they had been doing “kidsy” things and she had wanted the Grandparents to take the kids so she and Papa could have some quality time today since she hasn’t had sex all week. So she ended up having quality time with a couple she didn’t know. Women are strange and wonderful things – she wanted time with her husband, but being raw-dogged by a guy she didn’t know was just as acceptable to her. It took a while to get her there – an hour or so, but the journey is half the fun and everyone knew where it would end up, it was just a question of letting her get there. I have used women’s need for drama to benefit myself throughout the years – it is very dependable. Women are such simple creatures – give them another female to compete against – one that is younger, hotter, and more attractive and enjoy the results. The guy is pretty much superfluous other than he gets to enjoy the competition since whatever the younger one does, that older one will HAVE to do as well. Never trust a woman when there are other women around – they will toss a marriage, kids, and everything in their needs for a little drama in their lives. Never forget that since it tells you what you, your family, and everything else is worth to her – not as much as that few hours of excitement in a boring life… Remember that since it will NEVER change. It is how women are – so accept it, and use it to your advantage….

Drama is the Force. You can use it for good… or you can use it to command the dark side.

Jerkboy Chat Game

CH gets a lot of phone screenshots from readers eager to impress with their chat acumen (chatumen?) or seeking answers to some or other befuddling parry from a girl. This recent entry is a good one and worth sharing.

There are multiple game principles in play here. See how many you can identify. (The girl’s replies are in white background. These are three different girls btw.)

unnmed2

“Don’t worry, you will” is a classic jerkboy charm offensive. Memorize it. Notice too how the reader agree and amplifies when she teases him about being bffs. And then there’s the massively arousing neg at the end — the supreme disqualification — when he says he might replace her.

unnmed

Sexual intention signaled.

“Number” is the new “gay”.

unnaed3

“Get to the point” game.

unnad4

Chicks dig bossy men. Feminists, as per usual, wept bitterly.

Great jerkboy charisma game on display in these chats. Well done, reader. You are an honorary CH viscount.

%d bloggers like this: