Scat Game

Lust Is Love

A shopworn shibboleth heard often in various permutations from people who fearfully shirk from reality is that lust is dirty and craven and superficial while love is divine and transcendent and meaningful. This pretty lie probably has its basis in early religious texts, which pegged (heh) lust as one of the seven deadly sins.

And yet, without lust there would be no love. Much philosophy, supernatural or secular, which reveres the concept of endearing, lifelong romantic love must necessarily also revere lust for bringing its only begotten son — love — into the world. Evidence for this cosmically bonded relationship between lust and love abounds in personal experience. (Who here ever fell deeply in romantic love with someone they didn’t also sexually lust for, at least at the beginning of the relationship?)

CH knew this intimate entanglement between lust and love, long ago, before the “manosphere” was a twinkle in the blogosphere’s eye:

We here at the Chateau have in the past written that it is just as easy — in fact, may even be easier — to fall in love and begin a healthy long term relationship with a woman after having sex with her on the first date as it is with a woman who has made you wait for weeks or months before having sex. […]

Pure, feral lust is a necessary prerequisite to romantic love. A love not undergirded by animal lust is not a romantic love at all. It is, at best, a companionate love, or an affectionate love, or a phony love that two losers convince themselves to feel when no other options are available. So why delay the inevitable? If you feel hot for each other, go ahead and consummate on the first date! You won’t poison any budding relationship that might follow.

Now there is evidence from ♥SCIENCE♥ that… HO HUM… once again vindicates another vantage point in the Heartiste worldview.

Lust: Sexual desire forges lasting relationships.

People often think of love and lust as polar opposites—love exalted as the binder of two souls, lust the transient devil on our shoulders, disturbing and disruptive. Now neuroscientists are discovering that lust and love work together more closely than we think. Indeed, the strongest relationships have elements of both. […]

Brain imaging is revealing the distinct but interlocking patterns of neural activation associated with lust and love.

Lust is most likely grounded in the concrete sensations of the given moment. Love is a more abstract gloss on our experiences with another person.

Powerful lust conceives enduring love. And when lust wanes, love — romantic love at any rate — follows in its dissipating wake.

This provides ample justification for the player’s intuition that the best relationships are the ones that begin passionately, and sooner rather than later. The bounder who collects his bounty on the first date is more likely to segue into a loving long-term relationship than is the idealistic betaboy supplicant who dutifully waits ten dates for a scrap of tepid snatch.

That three date rule is more than just a game strategy for avoiding the curious cruelty of a cockteaser; it’s also a litmus test for the presence of irrepressible lust, which in turn heralds the prophetess of love. If you, or she, can hold out longer than three dates, your future love, should it come, will more closely resemble a candle flicker than a blast furnace.

This CH-embracing study also lets the air out of feminist bromides that women have to sleep around in order to determine with whom they’re sexually and temperamentally compatible. Such hogwash. If love is kin with lust, then the first man who inspires a woman’s convulsive orgasms can be, and likely will be, the man she falls in love with, or dreams of falling in love with, or regrets having let his love slip away. Such a man needn’t be her twentieth lover any more than her first lover.

And temperamentally, lust has a way of enabling superlative post hoc rationalizations of compatibility.

No, women who assert a “need to sleep around to find the right man” are playing the age-old hamster game known as “I keep getting dumped because I’m a foul skank, but I can’t tell myself that or the razor blade will start to look very inviting.”

With love,

CH

Field Report: The Dushka And The Cougar

Reader BuenaVista apprises,

From the Field:

So, in WashDC there’s a fairly prominent meat market for the middle-aged and well-suited: the place lawyers, senators, TV talking heads, CEOs lobbyists go in their ill-fitting suits to hustle women. It’s called Cafe Milano. The dynamics are like any Beverly Hills cafe of similar stripe, only it’s DC: DC is Hollywood for ugly people. Young women from the age of 20 up through women pushing 50 are in this place. Later in the evening it often gets quite insane when all the working men go home and the place fills up with Middle Eastern men chasing shiksa tail.

This is where I went last night to experiment with the difference between “high energy” and laconic “low energy.” I had a date so I went half an hour early for my experiment.

I was the only guy in the place not wearing a tie or sport coat; I had on a flight jacket, black sweater, jeans, Guccis, no socks.

I’m not funny, when ad hoc, in most instances, unless “irony” counts as funny — and it usually doesn’t. So I resolved to just smile, speak up, raise my eyebrows, and engage — i.e., the opposite of laconic pilot leaning against bar waiting to be chosen. In the first five minutes I looked straight at the Russian girl serving a full bar and quickly entered a five-minute conversation about the merits of American rye, how long she’s been in the country, what she drinks at home, and how funny is this shit with all these fat guys hustling Georgetown girls.

That last part is your best game. Knocking the pretension of other men is a time-honored technique for raising your own value.

I would say I was looking directly at her, only smiling to punctuate, listening, querying, listening, commenting. The bar was busy but she talked to me. I would estimate that she is 25 years younger than I am. She served me and my eventual date well all night and slipped us a couple freebie bottles of sparkling mineral water.

The next person I spoke to was a 45 year-old in a Chanel suit, cheekbones like Charlotte Rampling, a German accent, and a firm bust and small waist that means: Yoga every single day. This was a divorcee of some apparent means. In the past I just leave these women alone and they either open me (life was better when a woman could ask for a light in a bar, at least it was better for introverted me) or I didn’t talk to them. I turned, smiled briefly, complimented her on her suit,

A good neg here would have been “That’s a nice power suit you’re wearing.”

asked her if she had just come from an event of some sort, smiled, queried, commented, smiled, queried. I asked her what she would like to drink and ordered her glass of wine for her from the Russian. She name-dropped her summer place, I’ve been there many times, which school her son attends, blah blah blah. I don’t think I have done something like that more than five times in my life. As *her* date entered and was coming to grab her, I slipped her my card and she gave me a look that, perhaps unrealistically, said, “I just might follow up on this.” I didn’t get her number because I didn’t have time once her lawyer/lobbyist/whatever showed up.

She’s 45 years old. The odds that she’ll follow up by taking the initiative and calling you are far better than if she were her 25 year old self. The fear of the Wall has a way of focusing minds and opening legs.

Question: is “high energy” reducible to: choosing to open, managing the rhythm of the conversation and keeping it moving moving moving with a focus on her her her, not slobbering all over her looks, treating her more like the au pair than the princess the au pair works for. I mean, I can do this. This is little different than opening a potential business contact, male or female, on a long flight someplace.

High energy means you lead the conversation and don’t give her a chance to frame the interaction to her liking. Well, it means that, among other meanings. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you “focus on her her her”. You can be high energy and just shooting the shit about anything.

Or is it really this: halfway through the evening another software ceo, very successful guy, very notorious for his harems and runins with the SEC, was holding court with his usual gaggle of staff and the groupies the ceo always has about. Then he stood up (he’s kind of a short guy with a plain face, but he’s worth $500mm) shouting about some shit I couldn’t understand and his group started roaring. I’m never doing this: I think he’s a buffoon, albeit one with a net worth I’ll likely never approach.

Half Billion CEO dude is already preselected. He DHVs just walking into a roomful of people who are familiar with the local business scene. A guy like him could go high or low energy, it wouldn’t matter. His army of lackeys at the ready to laugh at his dumb jokes is all the game he needs.

Or, if it requires R. Brand levels of realtime wit and invention, forget it. I will never attempt that.

Any comments appreciated.

(See, Ya Really, I do actually go out.)

Low energy isn’t the same as being a wallflower. High energy isn’t the same as being an interrogator. Either method, you’re interacting with the express purpose of pushing it toward a carnal conclusion. The difference is how much dead air or dud utterances you’re willing to risk. Low energy is sexy, but vulnerable to competing distractions. High energy is captivating, but vulnerable to self-sabotage. I’d say if you’re hitting on hired dushkas or wealthy cougars, go lower energy. You might even gain points for establishing a contrast between yourself and the cackling suck-ups slobbering Half Bil’s knob.

Healthcare.graft

The Anti-Gnostic writes a very good post about Obamacare, and the unsustainable folly of the welfare state in general.

There are many layers of confusion [about the medical insurance business], so let’s take a look at some facts.

1) Most people lose money on insurance, because most of the time insurance doesn’t pay out more than it takes in.

2) Thus, a “good” policy is a catastrophic-coverage-only, high-deductible policy, where most payments are out of pocket. This is a policy that protects you against the downside risk, but where you lose a lot less on average.

3) This is because the purpose of insurance is to protect yourself from *catastrophe*, not to make routine purchases.

4) For example, if you went to Best Buy and whipped out your home insurance card to get a new flat screen TV, everyone would look at you as a crazy man. “Don’t you know that home insurance is only for fires and floods, and not for routine purchases?”

5) And so it should be with health insurance, because you’ll actually — *provably* — pay less with a high deductible plan for all but catastrophic conditions.

6) Indeed, the most innovative and technologically advanced areas of medicine are ambulatory areas in which people feel that markets are “ok”. These are paradoxically the most trivial areas: lasik, plastic surgery, dermatology, dentistry, even veterinary medicine.

7) Why are these areas so advanced? Because people pay cash money, because they choose based on quality, and because they are *able* to choose — i.e. they aren’t being wheeled up to the hospital in a gurney in a no choice scenario.

8) Moreover, with every technology ever, from cars to cell phones to air travel to computers, things that start out expensive become cheaper when enough people demand them. With medicine it seems to bite more that money means differences in care. But at the end of the day doctors, patients, nurses, drugs, ambulances…all that stuff means real resources, and a refusal to do explicit computations just results in massive waste as costs are shunted to a place where no one looks at them.

9) How insane is it, for example, that in this age of internet shopping that you can’t do comparison shopping on a hip replacement or a physical on the internet? It has to do with the irrationality that surrounds the concept of paying for the most valuable service of all: for someone saving your life.

10) Now let’s consider the elderly. The big problem here is that there IS going to be a catastrophe that hits them with probability 1. It’s called dying from being old.

11) If you know anything about medicine, you know that futile care is a ridiculous proportion of healthcare expenditure.

12) Now, in the abstract everyone is all about taking care of the elderly. Witness [another commenter’s] bleeding heart:

“Were they to offer profitable policies to old people, the premiums would be unaffordable.”

The whole point is that *old people are going to die* with probability 1. So let’s take those evil capitalists out of the question, and assume for now that no innovative entrepreneur could figure out something win/win for his own grandpa. …
Now we are in the realm of social justice. Which sounds so nice in the comments section. Until [the commenter] answers the question: how much of his children’s money does he want to spend on futile care for 83 year old Emma in Ohio? For 74 year old Bill in Texas? For countless, endless, unnamed others?

Because you can spend ALL of your money on futile care. Literally every last penny.

So now he says, “well, of course there have to be limits”.

And here we come to the nub of the matter.

This is h-bd land. We are adults. We understand hard facts.

One of those hard facts is that until Aubrey de Grey really gets on the hop, people *are* going to die.

The question is whether they die when THEY and their family run out of money — localizing the catastrophe — or whether every single one of them is connected to a public purse that they can draw down without consequence.

Because draw it down they will.

You see, for most of us, if our own mother was on a deathbed, if we had the ability to tax and steal from Joe and John and James to keep her alive we wouldn’t think twice about it. Because even if it took a million dollars in stolen tax money a day to keep her alive, well, hell, then I guess they’ll just have to work harder.

The problem, of course, is when everyone thinks this way.

Because what quickly happens is that once you’ve given the government access to that giant pool of money, they make damned sure that no one ANYWHERE is spending that money other than them…and then too only for the express purpose of the vote-buying schemes that our esteemed host has bought hook, line, and sinker.

That money is not spent for saving any more mothers.

Not for actual care.

Not for innovative treatments.

Not for anything other than the necessary minimum to keep up the facade, to buy people’s votes.

But hell, what does it matter, right? At least now we’re all equal. Equally poor in health. We’ve defeated the Magic of the Market. We can now allocate scarce resources not through merit or money, but through queues and connections and politics.

Like this.

Biogen Idec is running an early-stage trial of the drug in multiple myeloma, but Baron doesn’t meet the criteria to participate.

Baron’s a prominent donor to the Democratic party, and many of his powerful friends, including Lance Armstrong and Bill Clinton, made appeals on his behalf. And the family agreed not to sue if anything goes wrong.

Ultimately, his doctors at the Mayo Clinic worked directly with the FDA to find a “legal basis” for giving Baron Tysabri. The deal was announced on Baron’s son’s blog late yesterday. The details remain unclear.

Fantastic work, all of you. We’ve now taken the profit out of health care. No more profit motive to encourage ambitious young geniuses to develop miracle drugs rather than program social networks.

Instead it’s just pure politics.

This is what we need to get back to: a basic understanding that health insurance is meant for catastrophes, not routine check-ups or money spigot end-of-life care on old people waiting for death’s imminent and unstoppable escort.

Harsh, but true.

And isn’t this just the problem with leftoids’ over-sensitivity to harm and fairness? It’s all egogasmic hurty alleviation… until the credit line that funds their moral posturing is maxed. And then it’s time to memetically move on to the next civilization and repeat the process of suicide by feels.

It is an awful dilemma. The State, having assured the taxpayers that their geriatric needs would be met, must now breach its covenant with its citizens. As several commenters noted, there is no way out.

… As a society we are suffering tremendously because we forgot that the best retirement program is to have 6 children and teach them how to be prosperous and then stay on the good side of at least a few of them.

And the Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return.

I have my own fantasy of a nice little country that extracts the minimum taxes necessary to fund its military and maintain the social safety net. I’m sure that has been the selling point trotted out by every welfare state politician since Bismarck. But inevitably it seems, net tax consumption increases, birth rates fall, the culture shifts to high time-preference, and the State inflates the currency and runs deficits–further distorting the productive economy–to keep the Ponzi scheme going.

GBFM lzollzollzol’ed.

Obamacare is a ruling class pet project. It’s labyrinthine opacity is a feature, not a bug, that enriches the corrupt managerialist Top and the blood-sucking parasitical Bottom at the expense of the beta niceguys in the Middle. This formula is bad enough in homogeneous societies, but in racially and ethnically diverse ones like America, where ability and temperament and charitable fellow-feeling are all unequally distributed at both the individual and population group levels, it’s a guaranteed failure.

Strip out the market-distorting and depraved actor-attracting opacity of medical insurance — this means ending employer provided coverage and nationalized healthcare — and return it to the economically and morally sustainable notion that insurance is supposed to protect one against devastating… and relatively rare… calamities.

If this is not possible, well… try separatism. It may be that a precondition of solvent and sustainable medical insurance programs is ethnic kinship.

The Sexiness Of Shallow Communication

There are two fault lines running through an otherwise generally cohesive mass of seduction literature. The first, and better known, is the long-simmering war between direct and indirect game proponents. (Smart players use both.) The second, less known, is the tension between those who advocate high energy game (aka social alpha) and those who believe low energy game (aka stoic alpha) produces the best results. (Again, smart players resort to both high and low energy as the circumstance demands.)

In archetypal terms, high energy game = Trent from Swingers, low energy game = John from Nine 1/2 Weeks.

Low energy game is CH’s preferred method of applied charisma, but high energy has its usefulness, particularly during those first few critical minutes of meeting when the needle on a woman’s attraction thermometer is still swinging wildly and waiting to settle on a hot or cold temperature reading.

Low energy game is:

Laconic.
Smooth.
Ambiguous.
Quippy.
Imperturbable.
Intense.
Unreactive.
Best suited for one-on-one.

High energy game is:

Effusive.
Excitable.
Sociable.
Loquaciously funny.
Aggressive.
Fun.
Proactive.
Best suited for crowds.

There’s a strong introvert/extrovert divergence here that maps closely with a man’s preferred pickup energy level. Introverts will be more comfortable with low energy game, extroverts with high energy. Energy level also varies intra-game; you’ll be higher energy at the outset and downshift to lower energy during the comfort, i.e. leather couch, stage.

However, I’ve known plenty of introverts who can tolerate, and even relish, “acting out”. The catch is that introverts socially exhaust themselves faster than do extroverts, and need a time-out to recharge. A short burst of energy is about all an introvert can muster before he begins turtling as the realization “hey, i’m the center of attention!” hits him. Introverts therefore should focus their unrenewable high energy firepower when it’s most needed: during the meet and entreat.

Some will argue that a man’s looks dictate to a degree the energy level that will most benefit him. I won’t get into that discussion for this post, but readers may engage in the comments. I’ve heard differing theories on the matter, and my real world observations don’t lend much support to one theory or the other. Broadly speaking, uglier men will need to be higher energy in the beginning of a pickup, in order to “cut through the noise”.

Energy level also influences your mode of verbal communication. A high energy man will necessarily speak a lot more words than will a low energy man. Astute readers will note that this apparently violates Poon Commandment V: adhere to the golden ratio of giving your woman 2/3s of everything she gives you, verbosity presumably included. But the Poon Commandments are better understood as lifelong guidelines rather than specific pickup tactics that apply to every situation one may encounter along his romantic journeys. There will be those times when it’ll be to your advantage to say more than the girl in your company.

Nevertheless, there’s no denying that, on the whole and in the general, women love men who aren’t blabbermouths. The more of your store you give away, the less she’ll want to browse your product line. Enigmatic men are alluring. Succinctness is sexy. Ambiguity is alpha.

On that point, a regular reader writes,

You can use shallow communication to get positive association principle benefits in your dating life and life in general.

If you ever meet a powerful person, like your CEO, they really don’t have much to say. “This is a nice day!” “The Blackhawks looked great last night.”

Ditto if you see press coverage of the Pope, Queen, or President working a crowd or rope line.

The reason is simple: more people want to talk to powerful people and powerful people need to budget their attention.

The more you invest in deep substantial conversation, the smaller the number of people you must have in your life and the less attractive you become.

A man with many women can’t know everything about them. Seeking to learn everything about her is going to work against you over time.

Making statements versus asking questions subcommunicates less desire to learn about her.

That’s probably the main failing of stalkers, and she’ll think you’re a stalker if you know everything about her, which is exactly the opposite of what she wants.

Shallow communication is alpha. Listen to alpha males banter: it’s almost all jokes and taunts and teases and sharp comebacks (when required). Then listen to beta males banter: droning, nerdy expositions on boring topics, receivers more often than givers of gibes, conspicuous inability to disengage from dying conversational threads, stilted speech in place of charming quips.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a time and place when the alpha benefits from “deep” conversation with a girl. Women like when you ask about them, but only after some attraction has been sparked. Women also like when you open up about yourself, even if in a guarded way, when they’ve decided they want to know more about you. The comfort stage isn’t just some afterthought tacked onto the seduction process. It’s the meat and potatoes of pickup. If you don’t “connect” with a girl in a meaningful way, all you’ll have are a few laughs… and a dry dick.

All the points the reader made above are true, and most crucial when the dance of love is just spinning up. You hold your cards close at the start. You make statements more than you ask questions. You stick to superficial topics instead of delving deeply into your listener’s life and values. These behaviors are, undoubtedly, the hallmark of the alpha male.

But what if the girl doesn’t know you from Adam? You’ve just walked up to her, a stranger. Four-word vacant blurbs about the weather aren’t going to cut it. A chill, laconic, 007 pose over a martini glass is great if you’re already preselected as a man of interest. But if you’re the average guy without a license to thrill, you’ll need to do more than cock an eyebrow as the rim of your glass hits your lips. You’ll need to talk and, more often than not, talk a lot, if you want to engage a girl and get her invested in the outcome.

You square this circle by recognizing that shallow communication is not the same as terseness. You can talk your mouth off without really saying anything. “You girls look like you’re having the most fun here…” is an excellent prelude to a two-way exchange of ideated emotions, but it’s not exactly the stuff of profound thought. It is, however, high energy. If you watch Tyler Durden’s videos, he’s the classic example of a high energy player whose communication during the attraction stage is almost entirely substance-free. He rarely uses any “getting to know her” tropes. “Getting to know her” is the feeble strategy of earnest betatude.

If low energy game is more to your liking, you’ll need to locate venues where one-on-one sit-downs are possible. Any of the usual pickup spots are more favorable to low energy game on weekdays than weekends. Target events that cater to girls who don’t grok the club scene. If you can’t find it in you to amp up your energy level, then daytime game will feel more right to you, where crowd-owning court-holding isn’t a prerequisite for love. Finally, work on your bounce and isolation techniques. The sooner you can move a girl away from a busy social scene to a quieter, secluded pre-bone zone, the sooner you can switch to your preferred low-key, smirk-inflected, laconic cad game.

Reader Mailbag: Say My Name Game

A reader promised to donate if his game-related question was answered. That’s one way to perk the overlord’s ears.

I’ve returned with another question.  If you answer it, I’ll donate $50 to your site.

Partly perked.

My preferred game is day game.  While day-game master Krausser seems to hit up touristy/shopping areas for his work, I live in a city with a large college campus and use that.  There are ample young hot women here, but I feel it’s a difficult to get the same-day dates/f-closes because I’m hitting on many of them between classes.

Therefore, I can accumulate tons of numbers during the day and often leave the girls with a warm feeling because of my charisma and bold charm.

Before the coolstorybro.txt crowd chimes in, remember that chicks dig overconfident men. So let’s at least give this guy points for lying with good intentions.

And while I can escalate some of these numbers to dates via text, there’s one test I’ve had difficulty surpassing: girls who demand my last name before going out.  I understand that girls are programmed to try to disqualify men, and I see this is an attempt to do so by using my full name to stalk me on the internet for disqualification material.  Unfortunately, a simple search of my name will bring up that I worked for a company that many women may view as a disqualifier.

RSD? RNC? Brothel? Center for Immigration Studies? PornTube? Animal testing lab? Men’s Rights Advocacy Group? Rockstar Games? The Church?

The tactics I’ve used previously are telling them I’ll give it to them when I see them on the date, which I’ve noticed sounds sketchy in their minds, and calling them out as being “creepy stalkers.”

It’s not so much that it sounds creepy, but that it sounds like a lame ruse to get the girl to go out on a date. Although it does sound creepy, too. But then not any creepier than it sounds to ask a man she just met for his last name.

Your feedback would be appreciated.  Posted below is a recent example of such an interaction with a girl who demonstrated interest, but I couldn’t hit because of the last name game.

Her: “What’s your last name?”

Me: “Trying to stalk me”

This tactic is well and good, and can serve in a pinch, but nowadays chicks are so freaking socially awkward and guarded that implicit disqualifications don’t even cut the mustard. By socially awkward, I mean it’s just downright weird and borderline aggressive to ask a guy his last name before the sound waves from the “hello” have dissipated. She may as well ask for his college transcript while she’s at it.

A better reply would pursue that theme of her social awkwardness:

Her: “What’s your last name?”

You: “You were raised in a barn, weren’t you?”

Tingles are birthed in the defensive crouch, so you should have replies at the ready which force her to account for her weird behavior. If you’re wondering why calling a girl a stalker isn’t as effective a counter-measure as taking a dump on her social graces, know that in the state of nature men are more prone to the destructive kind of stalker behavior than are women. Therefore, hitting that “casual stalker” angle against a hard-nosed bitch won’t rattle her as much as docking her points for speaking like a low class Walmartian. You’ve got to find your foe’s thermal exhaust port if you want to leave an impression that lasts.

Her: “Just answer my question ;)”

You didn’t say if this was a text-based or a face-to-face convo? No matter, the vibe is the same: cunty. You really should take the gloves off when you’re dealing with a woman who asks direct, probing questions in an aggressive male-like manner. Women with this bad habit act like this because they’ve been burned by cad lovers and are therefore emotional basketcases and likely candidates to have cluster B personality disorder, or they have manjaws that can carve ice statues and clits that can double as laparoscopes. Luckily, most chicks aren’t like this. Was she a lawyer, by any chance?

Me: “I’ll tell you tomorrow when I see you ;)”

I get what you’re doing here, but the Assume The Sale redirect won’t work on a bitch in full bitch mode. You’re gonna have to go mano-a-womano. She doesn’t sound flirty, she sounds combative.  Being flirty in response won’t defuse an aggro combatgrrl. You need to fire a bunker buster at her hardened perimeter defense.

Her: “Sorry that’s not happening. You randomly walk up to me but won’t tell me who you are.  I don’t play that way”

Giveaway. She’s played that way; that’s why she feels a pressing need to tell some random guy she just met that she doesn’t play that way. She definitely has a past littered with the detritus of assholes who burned her good and hot. You’re just getting caught in her delayed return fire.

Me: “That’s cool.  I like human interaction.  Not looking for more internet stalkers”

You bowed out here. It was a respectable bow-out that certainly did no harm to your dignity. There was an opportunity to keep this thing going, but it would have required a bolder move. Suggestion:

You: [lie] “My name is von Robespierre. Now… say my name.”

The bitch comes off like a M1 tankskank. A load of double buckshot asshole game to her face is just the systems crash she needs.

Her: “I’m about to go out with you.  Do you even go here?”

This blurb of hers seems out of place in the context of the conversation you have posted so far. Is it a typo?

More internet stalkers?  I’m sorry but I’m a girl and I have to be careful. I like human interaction too but it’s only fair I know more about a random person. I need to know I’m not about to be stalked by some complete stranger who won’t tell me anything about himself”

She won’t flirt, she talks like a corporate mission statement, she’s got a single-minded focus on a (for now) unimportant personal detail about you, and she co-opted your stalker accusation and used it against you. Conclusion: No Fun Girl With Issues. Abort Mission.

(Alternate conclusion: You’re trolling the CH readership. In which case you get points for leading us on until the end of the post. Cocktease!)

I’m surprised you hung in this long. She must be eminently boffable, that is, until she opens her mouth. If she’s still an option, try the suggestions above. Better yet, don’t reply at all. Leave her huffing hamster fumes, wondering why you won’t come out and play her idiotic game of cuntupsmanship.

On a less glib note, you might want to work on your attraction game. If girls are routinely responding to you in this interrogative fashion within seconds of approaching them, you’re probably acting weirdly and pinging their shady character radar. A mysterious charming cad identity is great until you overdo it and set off alarm bells. This is why low energy, aloof alpha game is sometimes less effective in the beginning stage of a pickup with a random girl; that low energy is more apt to be misconstrued by a girl who has never met you as the deliberate affect of someone who doesn’t have much to say otherwise, (or who has to stay silent because he’s a subpar conversationalist).

Day game and street game are especially sensitive to the downsides of mysterious cool cat posturing, because a cold daytime approach 1. is inherently more discombobulating to women than would be nighttime approaches in expected places, like bars, and 2. requires greater verbal investment to capture and hold the woman’s attention. You aren’t sitting on a couch in a hip lounge, beckoning tipsy girls with your curled finger; you’re walking up to them on the street sober as a reformed minister and taking them out of their mindless daily rhythms. The dark, brooding stranger with a mysterious past act isn’t going to fly in that environment. It’s plausible that a condition of this sort of approach is that you be ready for probing questions from girls wondering who you are and why you’re bold enough to hit on them in the broad daylight when every other man has their eyeballs glued to an iPhone.

Why Obama Doesn’t Matter

In a recent comment thread, I asked a reader a very simple question, which remains, predictably, unanswered.

A very simple question for the Obamanauts who think their savior deserves the presidency: if he had been white, would he have been elected President? Reaction time in your answer will go toward your final score.

There is only one correct answer: no. There ‘s not a chance in hell Obama would have gotten anywhere near the White House had he been a white community organizer, aka shiftless bum. The beauty of asking leftoids this oh so innocent question with such an oh so obvious answer is that I get to enjoy a spectacle of self-debasement no matter how they answer. If they answer, “Yes, he would have been elected as a white man”, they must betray any belief in their personal virtue to lie so blatantly. If they answer, “No”, they betray their professed ideology and the true motives for electing Obama.

Obama doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of America’s future, because Obama was elected as a fighting symbol for the various warring groups that presently comprise the riven nation; groups who are ultimately driving the cultural and economic trajectory. He was always, and remains so, a totemic symbol with zero substance. Nothing more than a herald for malignant tumult already set in motion by the time he was bounced aloft by the vaporous politics of feels.

– SWPL coastal whites (Yankees in hereditary vernacular) voted for Obama so they could experience a full body orgasm from furiously stroking their tumescent egos for their enlightened attitude. Obama symbolized validation of their belief in their innate goodness.
– Hispanics voted for Obama so they could enjoy the blessings of government largesse. Obama symbolized leverage against more productive and smarter people.
– Blacks voted for Obama because he is (half) black. Obama symbolized the ascendancy of their tribe. (Temperamentally, Obama is about as black as Christian Lander.)
– Native Americans voted for Obama because they were drunk. Obama symbolized another round.
– Asians voted for Obama because he isn’t conspicuously Christian. Obama symbolized the opposite of those antediluvian religious whites who built America from scratch.
– Single white women voted for Obama because he’s the soulful sugar daddy who justifies their lifestyle and stifling conformism. Obama symbolized rebuke of boring beta white men.
– Other voted for Obama because, deep in their hearts, they know he is one of them. Obama symbolized the normalization of deviancy.
– The Top voted for Obama because he symbolized suppression of the Middle. The Bottom voted for Obama because he symbolized ingestion of the Middle.

Obama the Symbol. Obama the Shell Entity. Obama the Therapeutic Cipher. As diversity, both of the elite and commoner varieties, within a nation expands, so too does the need for ever more powerful yet increasingly empty symbols of each tribe’s worth.

What about those whites (aka Cavaliers) who didn’t vote for Obama? Romney did, after all, garner a majority of the total white vote, at levels unseen since the Reagan presidencies. (But, unlike the Reagan years when whites were still a ways from electoral diminishment, Romney couldn’t win with those substantial white tallies against the unstoppable force of demographic shift.)

To those whites not with the program, their vote was a blow against a terrible symbol of antagonism. They saw the bloody banner flapping in the wind as enemy tribes crested the horizon and slowly surrounded them. And they reacted with a swiftness, cleaving to their own symbol, even one as ineffectual and emotionally disconnected as Romney. But their numbers were just too few, and getting fewer by the day.

All you will ever need to know about the imprint that the Obama Presidency will leave on the psyche of this segregating nation was shrieked by delirious followers in the streets on election night in 2008:

Hope and Change!

Like the buffoonish, thin-skinned meathead who loudly proclaims his prowess to a doubtful crowd, the chorus of cultists repetitively singing the Hope and Change anthem till tears welled in their eyes betrayed a deep disillusion with the substance of their yearning. The lesson is unmissable: the more insistent the emotional incantations declaring universalistic hope and change, the more likely the chanters have base, tribal motives. Emotionalism is a hallmark of a people that no longer believe in anything but egocentric validation, and rationalizing by whatever sophistry necessary their will to self-endorsement.

In totally unrelated news, a “group of teens” is at it again! The Cathedral has become such a rank parody that the time is right to tactically step aside and let the enemy discredit itself. Why waste energy fighting a foe at full strength when you can just jeer at him as he punches himself in the nads?