Girl Tells Boyfriend He Needs More Male Friends

A reader writes,

I wrote to you before about your advice improving the relationship with my mom.

I want your critical and scrutinizing take on another situation. I’ve been in a relationship for almost 3 years now. It’s going great. I keep it in-line with CH preachings and wisdom, and I would even go as far as saying that both of us are pretty happy. I’ve never been the type to be the super macho alpha male. I would describe myself as Tom Haverford from the show Parks and Rec, except caucasian, and a bit taller. Now that the necessary background info is out of the way, here’s the question: I find it much easier to talk to girls and make friends with them than with guys. I have 1 guy friend, and about 11 girl friends. (As a side note, from those 10, about 2 of them are dtf.) I’ve never cheated on my gf. I don’t hide the fact that I am in relationship from any of them, and I do not broadcast every detail of my relationship either. I find that girls are easier to go out and do things with, like go to the bar, play pool, or even just grab a coffee, or lunch with. (Maybe it’s easy for me due to the fact that I internalized your ways of game and flirting, and had ample of practice on my actual gf.) Where as with guys in the past and now I had friends who I would do a certain activity with i.e. soccer sam, xbox mike etc. but thats about it.

Anyways, naturally this drives my real girlfriend nuts. She’s not the overly attached girlfriend, who texts me every minute asking me where am I, but if she hears that I’m in company of girls when she calls, she would go like “oh right, you are with your girlfriends, sorry I’ll call you back” Or if I’m about to send a text to someone and she sees my phone messaging screen and its mostly girls names she gets upset. She also met a few of my “girlfriends” and every now and then would throw something like “sorry I’m not Katie” etc. My gf keeps hinting that I need more guy friends, and that it’s “weird” that I don’t hang out with guys at all, and that I should do something about it. On the other hand, I am quite satisfied with the situation.

What’s your take?

My take: you’re sitting in the driver’s seat. You’re right to feel quite satisfied with the present arrangement. Everything you’ve written tells of a woman who is beset by irritating, if manageable, jealousy pangs, and has assumed the perpetual chaser role of the girlfriend who feels she must continually re-earn her man’s love and affection.

This state of affairs may sound bad in print, but these kinds of men aren’t the ones getting taken to the cleaners by icy ex-wives.

When a girl like this one tells you to swap out most of your female friends for male friends, she’s practically confessed to feeling threatened.

Women who are in charge of their relationships typically put the kibosh on their men hanging out with their male friends too much because those women don’t want their men’s attentions (read: resources) spent frivolously on his gang of bros.  These women don’t worry so much about female competition because they don’t believe their beta herbs are capable of seducing other women. This is how it goes for, oh, 80-90% of long-term relationships.

In contrast, women who *aren’t* in charge of their relationships typically fret more about their men spending time in the company of women, any women, in any context. These women do worry about the female competition, because they know their boyfriends/husbands have the charismatic chops to woo aspiring mistresses. And they know that women are mercenary behind the fair maiden masks, and will eagerly encourage a betrayal.

Be happy that you hold court with women. It’s not weird, it’s exhilarating, for you and your girlfriend.

Sociopathy Is Increasing In America

Is sociopathy prevalence on the rise in America? According to the author of the book The Sociopath Next Door, it is. American culture has become a breeding ground for sociopaths.

And disturbingly, the prevalence of sociopathy in the United States seems to be increasing. The 1991 Epidemiologic Catchment Area study, sponsored by the National Institute of Mental Health, reported that in the fifteen years preceding the study, the prevalence of antisocial personality disorder had nearly doubled among the young in America, It would be difficult, closing in on impossible, to explain such a dramatically rapid shift in terms of genetics or neurobiology.

Male sociopaths do better with women. This is indisputable. If sociopathy is increasing in America, then we must look to the foundational market of human interpersonal relations — the sexual market — to discover the source of this increasing sociopathy. Quite simply, if more women are more often rewarding sociopaths with their sex, then the supply of sociopathy will increase.

Under what conditions would women swoon for sociopaths? Very harsh conditions, for one. An emotionless Machiavellian is a useful mate to have when survival is constantly tested. Another social condition that probably redounds to the benefit of sociopaths is one in which women are incentivized, by a coddling state and by women’s own economic self-sufficiency, to favor the love of maximum tingle generating cads over comfy cozy betas.

Tellingly for the currently cratering US, diversity may play a crucial role in assisting the rise of the sociopaths.

In this opinion he is joined by theorists who propose that North American culture, which holds individualism as a central value, tends to foster the development of antisocial behavior, and also to disguise it. In other words, in America, the guiltless manipulation of other people “blends” with social expectations to a much greater degree than it would in China or other more group-centered societies.

I believe there is a shinier side of this coin, too, one that begs the question of why certain cultures seem to encourage prosocial behavior. So much against the odds, how is it that some societies have a positive impact on incipient sociopaths, who are born with an inability to process interpersonal emotions in the usual way? I would like to suggest that the overriding belief systems of certain cultures encourage born sociopaths to compensate cognitively for what they are missing emotionally. In contrast with our extreme emphasis on individualism and personal control, certain cultures, many in East Asia, dwell theologically on the interrelatedness of all living things.

Interestingly, this value is also the basis of conscience, which is an intervening sense of obligation rooted in a sense of connectedness. If an individual does not, or if neurologically he cannot, experience his connection to others in an emotional way, perhaps a culture that insists on connectedness as a matter of belief can instill a strictly cognitive understanding of interpersonal obligation.

An intellectual grasp of one’s duties to others is not the same attribute as the powerfully directive emotion we call conscience, but perhaps it is enough to extract prosocial behavior from at least some individuals who would have behaved only in antisocial ways had they been living in a society that emphasized individualism rather than interrelatedness. Though they lack an internal mechanism that tells them they are connected to others, the larger culture insists to them that they are so connected — as opposed to our culture, which informs them resoundingly that their ability to act guiltlessly on their own behalf is the ultimate advantage. This would explain why a Western family by itself cannot redeem a born sociopath. There are too many other voices in the larger society implying that his approach to the world is correct.

As Robert Putnam has discovered, ethnic and racial diversity reduces trust and social cohesion. Radically heterogeneous societies lose their aura of connectedness. Within this atomized, unraveled milieu, sociopaths thrive. They thrive not only because any communitarian brakes on their behavior are removed, but also because the culture begins to value and exalt the very special talents of the sociopath. This is an unavoidable transition when people feel unmoored from a larger social family, and adopt a pathologically individualist “look out for #1” attitude to life in response to the vague but palpably ominous threat of rainbow fauxalitions.

To be a high level player, you have to be blessed with a touch of sociopathy. Without that trait for timely detachment, you will empathize too much with the particular needs and reproductive goals of women. That distracting emotional resonance will hinder your ability to hurt a woman’s feelings and, sadly you’ll discover, rare is the woman who joyfully surrenders her body to a man who is careful to spare her feelings.

So sociopathy has its privileges. But no nation of sociopaths ever put a man on the moon.

Comment Of The Week: Disinformation Tintinnabulation

If you plan to pursue a fast-paced, rewarding career in womanizing, you’ll want to take steps to protect yourself from crazy chicks. All you need is one wild-eyed stalker camping out at your apartment door when you get home from work to make your life exciting in the wry Chinese sense of the word.

With that in mind, reader anonYmous advises,

Couple things from my past. And things I wish I would of done better. Using a fake name. Not showing her where I live. Not letting her follow me home. Using a burner phone (I have my main cell and a lot of chicks at work have access to databases and know know way too much about a person). I dated a chick who worked at the storage vault for the county courthouse and it was the same place they stored all of the local hospitals and clinics medical records. Needless to say she knew quite a bit about me. Also, if you plan to move get a new drivers license before you move, say you lost it or whatever. Just make sure not to give them the new address. Always keep ur phone locked and dont use a SD card on ur burner phone. Also remember that newish phones can stay connected to towers while the phone is off, so pull the battery on your main phone. The govt can use gps data to “link” two phones to an owner. The other thing I would add is to save incriminating evidence. If shit hits the fan always have a mountain of evidence on chicks. I also leave my wallet at home, and throw a hundred underneath the insole of my shoe in case I get in a bind. Though 100 doesnt go very far when something comes up. But you could put a prepaid cc under ur insole too. A crazy chick will regularly go though ur pockets when ur using the bathroom or whatever. Course you can use this to your advantage and have a friend write a fake phone number and a chicks name on it on a piece of napkin or something to stoke the fire.

Sounds like a pro. This is advanced level counterintelligence. A burner phone is an obvious first line of defense against prying princesses. Building a deliverable dossier on your lovers is next level anti-snoop game. Cash only, prepaid credit cards when cash isn’t an option. Fake IDs are useful if you can find a reputable source of them, and they’re legal to own as long as you don’t use them to conduct a transaction in which a valid ID is required. Never give out your real address to a potential loon. Arrange all rendezvous at her place, or until she begins to ask why she hasn’t seen your place yet. I once boffed a woman for four months before she got within spitting distance of my neighborhood. Keep your home spare; no identifying family photos or work-related papers lying about.

Disinformation is king in a land of distrust and proto-spinster malice. Unusual secretiveness will invite probing; better to misdirect a crazy chick with layers upon layers of lies and quasi-lies. Good girls rarely need this kind of treatment because they don’t have reason to mistrust men and dig into each date’s personal files. They avoid the cock carousel lifestyle and its attendant vice. Bad girls, by dint of their predilections and intemperance, have been burned many times by assholes on the make, and have developed a keenness for snooping in the bargain. They are less naive, but they pay a price in surrendering their chance at redemptive love.

Gaming Crazy Chicks

The crazy chick is practically an American institution. Delayed marriage, cats as alpha male fill-ins, marathon trash TV, childlessness, anti-depressants, and energy drinks with five pounds of added sugar will turn most normal girls into genuine headcases or poseurs who want men to think they’re headcases. A disconcertingly large minority of American women seem to believe that acting like a mentally imbalanced fruitcake substitutes for a paucity of femininity. It doesn’t. It only makes men think you’ll put out on the first date.

The crazy chick can be gamed, and there’s good reason to try. Men want three primary attributes in the ideal woman: beauty, an openness to sexual experimentation, and a sweet disposition. Crazy chicks often possess attribute #1, and always possess attribute #2. The problem is that they never have #3, so the smart man knows the crazy chick was put on the earth for fun only, to be discarded as soon as the ratio of her pain-in-the-assery exceeds her ability to sexually please. The crazier the chick, the quicker that P-to-P ratio turns upside down.

If you’re going to mix it up with crazy chicks, you had better know what you’re doing. Lesser men have gotten chewed up and spit out by the sexy siren who made a sport of baffling and blind-siding her prey. A man unacquainted with the Lokianne side of female nature can be ruined for all good women after a few months dangling on the painted meathook of a crazy chick. You’ve gotta know when to hold ’em, and know when to fling ’em out the door and change the locks.

It also helps to know which chicks are crazy to the bone, and which are just sad, tragic figurines fronting crazy for the attention whore fix.

Commenter Troubadour writes,

I’ve decided to seek outside opinions profiling the girl.

She has piercing, dark eyes that drill straight into mine, and our eyes stay locked while she throws out shit tests like these:

“It was my fault I was raped when I was 11. Everybody tells me I was asking for it, and I agree. I was asking for it.”

“I’ve often thought how much fun it would be to call a hooker over and then murder her.”

“I almost killed myself a little while ago. I cut too deep. That’s why I’m wearing the long sleeves.”

“I hope I die soon. I haven’t eaten in over a month to lose all that weight, and I’m in danger of passing out. I might pass out behind the wheel and die. I hope it happens.”

Is that the kind of crap a garden variety scene kid throws out to get attention, or is this chick scary fucked up?

What am I messing with here?

I’m no psychiatrist… just a humble man with a working penis and a blessedly light genetic mutational load… but I can tell you this chick is fucked in the head. She’s either a raging narcissist or a certified nut; in practice, it makes no difference to you. The emotional basket case attention whore won’t make your life any easier than the subclinical loon.

Maxim #41: A girl who mentions rape or suicide during the first few months of dating in any context other than as a third party making a wryly humorous observation immediately outs herself as a crank with borderline personality disorder who will be a living nightmare as a girlfriend.

Many crazy chicks will fool you with their lavish dependency, and then surprise you one night with a story about “this one dude at the art expo I went to (yeah I forgot to tell you I was planning to go) who kept pestering me and eventually I just gave up and had to kiss him to get it out of the way”. And you’ll be like, “Ok, what the fuck just happened here? Do I need to get myself tested?”

What I’ve learned is that the winning tack with crazy chicks is a studied indifference to their assorted psychological manipulations. And by the buttplug of pajamboy do they have a warehouse of mind games. Know what you’re getting into, and be ready to get out as soon as you catch her freak coming round the corner. One, you’ll want pussy on the side; crazy chick pussy is usually pretty good, and hard to tear yourself from if you don’t have a fallback. Two, whatever you do, don’t indulge her outbursts, her passive-aggressiveness, her pity ploys, her martyrdom, or her sensationalism.

The worst decision you can make is to be “exclusive” with a crazy chick, and try to reform her. That’s just begging for a world of hurt. You’re no magnanimous minister to the moon units, saving hos like Jesus saving sinners. The crazy chicks FEASTS on do-gooder betas. You show a glimmer of kindness, or patience, or a “need to understand” and your cuckoo boo will have your sanity for lunch.

The only cure for the crazy chick that’s been known to work on at least a few of them is The Wall. A headlong splat and total invisibility to men is worth more than ten years of therapy and annual pregnancy scares. When a young hottie has lost her source of power, her crazy stops befuddling betas and testing the tolerance of alphas. She gets ignored, and learns through Instant Feedback that her crazy antics, once so entertaining and lovable in the form of a 21 year old vixen, now isolates her from every social circle she knows.

The best counterstrategy for dealing with crazy chicks is bracing candor wrapped in condescension. Tell her what’s really going through your head, but do it in a way that leaves no doubt how little you care what she thinks or feels:

“It’s amazing how you can say shit like this while holding eye contact like a serial killer. Great stuff. Love it. What other tricks do you do?”

Meet crazy with the kind of male crazy that *really* drives crazy chicks nuts: detached amusement. The sex should be incredible. Just don’t stick around.

The Ten-Year Cuck

Id Dregs (fitting handle) tells a scary campfire story that reverberates in the dankest recesses of our souls because it explores ancient betrayals that have stalked humanity since its rise from the origin slime.

This type of stuff doesn’t really sink in until you witness it or experience it first hand.

Case in point, I knew a couple (let’s just say they were very close to me, as one was related to me). They had been married for 15 years. The man did everything to raise their social economical standing from near poverty to mid-middle class. He did just that through hard work and dedication. They both seemed to be in love and for quite some time (at least it seemed to me, I was very young at the time). Years pass and they had three children together. We see them at family gatherings and they look to be very much in love with each other but as we know here, in these parts, looks can be very deceiving. Especially on the woman’s part. Anyway, fast forward some years and the man grows suspicious about his woman’s love for him. She acts distant in general and starts to come home later than usual. The man then purchases a voice recorder and places it underneath her truck’s dashboard.

what was revealed later, shocked him so much, he went on a deep depression for about a week before confronting the matter. I’ve heard the tapes, and a woman’s id is really the most unfiltered, debased, and crass piece of shit known to man… but eh, back to the story.

He confronts her about this and she doesn’t deny it. He asked how long, and she says, “I’ve been seeing him for 2 years now.” He doesn’t puss out at this level and beg for forgiveness but does something so evil, I won’t even bother to post it here. [ed: oh come on, man!] A man can only take so much before revealing his id too, I suppose.

She leaves him alone with their three children, but for him, he still feels something’s not right. So he gets a paternity test on his three children and he comes to find out his youngest child, his 10 year old one, is not his.

He was cuckolded for 10 years.

Let that sink in.

10 years.

He banished the child from his two others and now the bastard child lives with her. You can only imagine the damage this causes to the other siblings but the bitch doesn’t really care. At her very core, her id is the only thing that matters. Damn be all.

I still see both of them from time to time and while the man has tried to raise himself, he can’t. He’s too old now. He’s invested well over half his life into a traitor and for what? Nothing. He’s nearing 60 and the other thing that keeps him alive is his two legitimate children. As for the woman? She’s currently with some man who pulled the exact same thing to his own family, just to be with her. They’re currently broke but it doesn’t matter to her.

I believe heartiste here said it himself. Something along the lines of, ” when the love is gone, it’s almost as if a woman doesn’t even know you…”

Close enough.

Maxim #13: When the love is gone, women can be as cold as if they had never known you.

Well, she’s in love with her badboy and knowing that she’s nearing poverty doesn’t matter to her.

That’s enough #realtalk for the day.

The specter of rape gets an awful lot of Cathedral ink in the mainstream and feminist weirdo media, but if the numbers are tabulated rather than leftoidally confabulated the incidence of cuckoldry could be as high as 30 times more prevalent than recorded penis-in-vagina rape.

Now let THAT sink in.

But of course the comparative scourge of cuckoldry — the utter malevolence of the betrayal — raises nary a curious eyebrow from the cognoscenti because they, just like the hinterland yokels they love to torment, are psychologically enslaved to the biological imperative that pulses at the heart of the fundamental premise.

CH is well aware that the existence of this divinely created premise assures the immutability of the reality it manifests, and that nothing we write here will alter the universal laws of nature. That won’t stop us from enjoying the twist of the shiv and provoking howls of pain from the platitude pushers. It must be that Christmas spirit of giving flowing through us…

Merry Christmas

Many thanks to all the readers who showed their superlove for CH by donating to the blog (see Donate button at right). It is appreciated.

Pictogram Text Game, Trending

When words fail you (or you’re too indifferent to the outcome to bother formulating a sentence fragment), you can’t go wrong with pictogram (aka emoji) game. A reader sent along screenshots of his pictogram game.

Her contribution: Eighty words, four smilies.

His contribution: “Good.” “Ok.” A funny fat birthday cat.

That, my friends, is what it looks like when a woman is chasing an alpha male’s approval. I suspect that birthday cat will get a lot of CH readers laid in the cumming months.

As the pictogram sender above noted, the girl tried to pull a “take-away” on him at the end, but it’s obvious her threat was empty. When a girl is really through with you, she stops talking. When a girl is still into you, she pretends to be through with you in twenty words or more.

PS Some readers have complained about what they perceive is an excessive focus on text game. Folks, I don’t make the mating market, I just live in it. Face-to-face courtship has ceded ground to the smartphone seductress. If Romeo were alive today, he’d be staring at his phone under Juliet’s balcony, furiously texting her romantic odes as she watched them arrive on her phone from up above him. If you think we’ve lost something human in the transition, just wait until you get a load what the future has in store…