6%

According to this study, your chance to get a bang with a speed-dating partner is 6%. Your chance to have a relationship with a speed-dating partners is 4%. (Unclear from the study abstract whether that means you have a 6% chance at the start of a speed-dating event, or whether that 6% refers to the subset of speed-dating partners who have agreed to go out with you.)

We studied initial and long-term outcomes of speed-dating over a period of 1 year in a community sample involving 382 participants aged 18–54 years. They were followed from their initial choices of dating partners up to later mating (sexual intercourse) and relating (romantic relationship). Using Social Relations Model analyses, we examined evolutionarily informed hypotheses on both individual and dyadic effects of participants’ physical characteristics, personality, education and income on their dating, mating and relating. Both men and women based their choices mainly on the dating partners’ physical attractiveness, and women additionally on men’s sociosexuality, openness to experience, shyness, education and income. Choosiness increased with age in men, decreased with age in women and was positively related to popularity among the other sex, but mainly for men. Partner similarity had only weak effects on dating success. The chance for mating with a speed-dating partner was 6%, and was increased by men’s short-term mating interest; the chance for relating was 4%, and was increased by women’s long-term mating interest.

This is from an interesting blog called Barking Up The Wrong Tree, a sort of warehouse of various studies examining human behavior. “Choosiness increased with age in men, decreased with age in women” made me LOL. Yep, when looks is all you can bring to the dating market, it’s no surprise you become more desperate the older you get. Also no surprise that older men with higher social status than when they were younger, become choosier. Proof that it’s better to be a man than a woman as you get older.

It strikes me that this study would be a good way to scientifically test the merits of game. You could arrange a speed dating event with AFCs (average frustrated chumps), tally their success rate at getting dates and bangs, and then have the same group of men spend three months learning game and then repeating the speed-dating experiment with them to see if their date and bang rate improve. It’s not a perfect experiment, (obviously, the group of women at the follow-up speed-dating event would be different), but it could give a glimpse into how much improvement one could expect from game. I think most men currently on the fence about the efficacy of systematic pickup would happily learn game if it meant a doubling from 6% to 12% in their lay rate.

The 6% number suggests that speed-dating as a form of meeting women kind of sucks, but it may compare favorably to meeting women in bars if the bar lay rate is less than 6%. That would be another hypothesis to test; I suspect speed-dating, because it attracts the desperate dregs of womanhood, has a higher lay rate, but that is small comfort to the man who prefers fucking girls who still have the glow of youth. A 6% lay rate with cougars, or a 3% lay rate with kittens? I think I know which success rate most men would prefer.

Sarcastically Disqualifying Girls

Sarcasm is unfeminine. Girls who lean on the use of sarcastic humor are a turn-off to men. Hot girls are especially prone to sarcasm, and they wield it profligately. However, there is a flip side to this fact that is good news for men. Girls *love* sarcastic men. They love being assailed by a man adept at the coarse art of sarcasm. You see, when girls are sarcastic, they are projecting their desire to be verbally molested by a sarcastic man. Psychological projection explains so much of human behavior.

Sarcasm is a powerful tool in a man’s seduction arsenal; it is particularly useful for men who shoot for girls that would conventionally be considered out of their league. Qualification (qualifying her for your continued interest) and disqualification (disqualifying her or yourself as a potential love interest) are methods by which men can make women chase them, and thus become more attracted to them. Sarcasm combined with disqualification is an especially potent combination, that when unleashed on hot women will bridge the attraction gap and spark her curiosity. If you only need to know three things to build attraction with a girl who is otherwise indfferent to you, it is these:

1. Alpha body language
2. Negs
3. Disqualification

Sarcastic disqualification is not just a powerful game technique, it is fun to do. (Hot) girls lap it up. (Lesser girls could become bitchy if they think you are making fun of them for being unworthy of your time.) SDs should be dropped early in the pickup, when she is learning about you and gauging your level of alphaness. SDs are perfect answers to shit tests. You should normally say SDs with a smile, as a sarcastic line tossed off with a straight face can be misconstrued as an insult. You also need to be careful not to overuse SDs. Once attraction is there, additional SDs risk portraying you as a class clown at best, a glib asshole at worst.

Here are some examples of sarcastic disqualifications:

“Oh yeah, with that charming attitude, how could I not instantly fall in love with you?”

“Sorry, I have a rule against dating princesses.”

“I’ve been searching my whole life for a woman like you… to set up with my friend. He plays the flute!”

“I bet a sweet girl like you has a full dating life with all those Craigslist guys.”

“Wow, I can’t even talk to you… you’re too perfect in every way. I mean, just look at those flip-flops.”

“It’s a good thing you’re SOO far out of my league. Like, WAAAY up there [reach for the ceiling on your tip-toes]… otherwise I’d have to think about hitting on you.”

“Don’t worry, I only date girls who aren’t queen bees.”

“Yes, after you’re done dating George Clooney, maybe then I’ll have a shot?”

“This is amazing… to be in the presence of such beauty. You like my new watch?”

“No, I just don’t see you that way. You’re too perfect. You shouldn’t be ruined by a low-down jerk like me.”

“You are the most awesome girl ever! Wow, why aren’t I proposing right this second?!”

Comment Of The Week: Mt Rushmore

From drib:

How very true and timely in my case. I recently returned from a trip in the North Western States (not the Pacific NW) to see some of our countries natural treasures. Besides seeing tons of fat asses who all seemed to be rocking the Kate Gosselin haircut (No shit, from ages 20-60. Very scary.) I had an experience in a small room in a museum at Mount Rushmore. While reading about and pondering the balls of the man who created the Mt. Rushmore sculpture I couldnt help but hear the heavy breathing, grunts and cries of “Jesus Christ” coming from behind me.

I turned around to find five other people in the room with me of whom were ALL morbidly obese. Not just fat, but freakshow fat! we are talking 500lbs and up. All sweating and leaning against the walls except for one couple who managed find a bench made for four that could only hold the two of them. They were an interracial couple. He was black she was white. On her lap was a newborn baby who looked in scale like a normal sized turd for her. Thank God the child will have no memory of its descent from her Big Mac encrusted crotch into the folds of her elephantine thighs. The same cannot be said for the OBGYN who had to witness this horror show. Unless of course the child wound up in a toilet bowl because its mother thought it was merely a sack of White Castles that just went bad?

I realized then in that room that at 5 11 and 165lbs I was an evolutionary throwback for that moment. A neanderthal in a brave new world of sweat, sloth, grunting and type 2 diabetes. God help us.

The hallowed rock began to creak and groan. The family of five needed to be airlifted out in bedsheets before ol’ George broke his back.

Update On The C-SPAN Ex-Lovers Spat

An anonymous source emailed the following to Chateau headquarters:

As someone who knows Seavey and Rittelmeyer, I’d like to point out that she deserves it. She is crazy. Seavey is usually not so crazy, but he is showing some restraint. Right after he broke up with her, I overheard him discuss how sociopathic she was: “It’s like for the last two years I’ve been fucking a lizard.”

A choice quote from Helen. “I’m not sure why people have… friends. Books are more efficient.”

The panel was convened to discuss a book, and Helen’s essay in the book is fantastic. It’s about dissolute Yale conservatives. Here’s an excerpt: http://www.studentfreepress.net/archives/4049

After second viewing of the video, I think Seavey got in a couple of biting jabs at Sluttelmeyer. So it wasn’t a total lost cause, though it was a suicide mission under the circumstances. Jabs aside, Seavey comes across on the whole like a spurned beta, not a cool and calm devil-may-care alpha. He clearly still wants to pork her; the raging unfulfilled lust is strong in him. Of course, this is nothing unusual for dumpees. Alphas occasionally get dumped to, but it’s in how they handle it that separates them from the average pining man. (By “handle it”, I mean they will casually turn to girl #2 in their harem to soothe the pain.) By the way, from what I read of Seavey’s cached blog posts, she dumped him three days before the C-SPAN event.

In the previous post, I wasn’t concerned with the veracity of Seavey’s accusations or the dynamics of his relationship with Sluttelmeyer. That wasn’t the point of it. It was to show how people react differently to men and women misbehaving in essentially identical manners, based on deep-seated evolutionary impulses. Bitter beta males are simply not cut as much slack as bitter beta females would be cut.

But since the details of Seavey’s and Mini-Rand’s relationship or lack thereof seem to fascinate people, I will offer some advice to Seavey on how he should handle similar situations should they arise in the future.

First, Seavey, let me be frank: You have no game. Zero. Nada. I can tell. Your gamelessness oozes from every pore. I doubt you have ever had a normal, socially savvy, non-nerd friend in your life who was good with women who could have mentored you. Read this blog and other similar sites and begin your journey of discovery. Then you can stop dating down to pretentiously eccentric, credentialist suckup, robotic, afeminine 3s and 4s. “Yale… the school I went to”. LOL.

Second, when you have an “on again, off again relationship” with a chick for two years, your working assumption should be that she is fucking around. In fact, that should be your working assumption for *all* women until proven otherwise. Girls must earn your respect. “On again, off again” is not the way to earn that respect. But it is a good way to earn a tier three slot in your stable of regulars.

Third, why would you date a “sociopathic lizard” for two years? It’s a telling sign of a lack of options that you chose the indignity of sticking it in her reptilian hole as she led you around by the nose, instead of dumping her scaly ass as soon as you got the chance for a better woman. Face it, she fucked with your head, and you fell for her hard. What you should have been doing is treating her like the occasional fuckbuddy she in reality was to you, while concurrently dating other women. That would have given you the proper perspective and attitude. Had you done that, you would have seen her magically begin to behave more ladylike and work for your attention. That is the power of aloof asshole alpha game.

Fourth, when she dumped you three days before that panel discussion, you should have been EXPECTING IT. Hell, she was already done with you two years ago, but you couldn’t see it because you were blinded by the pussy. Had you followed points 1 – 3 above, you wouldn’t have even been in the position to be dumped just prior to an awkwardly planned C-SPAN event. When she approached you to tell you that she was dumping you, you should have shrugged your shoulders and said “I didn’t know we were together.” That’s how you steal victory from a slut. And it would have been true. Then you could have invited your new girl to sit in the audience and watch you, while enjoying the jealousy it would surely have provoked in Mini-Rand.

Fifth, don’t expect to win allies by disgracing a girl in a public venue — out of context — with tales of your personal history with her. The world doesn’t work that way. People’s sympathies will always lie with the woman, particularly if the man attacking her is charmless or otherwise inept at working a crowd, and the woman in question is of fertile age. You had no hope to come out on top by commandeering a political panel discussion to zing an ex about her slutty misanthropic ways, even if said ways were at odds with her self-proclaimed ideology and religious mores. Your time to stick the shiv in was long before that panel discussion. Long before she formally dumped you, actually. Perhaps an offhand sly reference to her sordid sexual or friendship history, slipped innocuously into the conversation so that few would know what you were alluding to, would have sufficed to earn you gotcha points with the insiders who were watching you and her at that event, without ostracizing you from the rest of the crowd… and, now, from the internet hordes. Try to put yourself in an alpha male’s shoes — a man who is fucking more than one woman at any given time and who has no trouble getting new women when he wants — and imagine what he would have done in that situation. I guarantee he would not have done what you did, the way you did it. I doubt he would even give the reptile a second thought.

Commenter Thunear is right. The world’s biggest, raunchiest, most unethical sluts are libertarian chicks. They will jump on just about any cock that is half-way alpha. The libertard girl craves the mightily aloof cock like no other woman. She wilts for such a man to brusquely dismiss her romantic gestures. But, alas, many of these Rand-obsessing chicks are ugly, and have to settle for riding the beta cock carousel, a kiddie ride compared to its manlier cousin. Since they are surrounded by lesser betas and omegas, they tire easily and quickly of any one cock, and move on to new cock effortlessly. As long as you understand what you’re getting into with the libertard slut, you can have fun with them. Think of the upsides: No flowers, dinners, or presents necessary. Check splitting all the time, except when she’s buying. Sexual voraciousness, S&M, bondage, public sex. Threesomes a distinct possibility. No worries about pregnancy (most of them have had their tubes tied). No pressure to propose. No girly stuff. If she looks fat, tell her! She’ll love you for it. All you have to do is humor her long-winded conversations about privatized toll roads and expect nothing in the way of fidelity, and you’ll have hand in the relationship; a fuckbuddy for as long as you like. PS: Libertarian chicks love it in the pooper.

Compare And Contrast: Two Bitter Ex-Lovers

A jilted ex-boyfriend went on a scorned nerd rampage on live TV while his ex-girlfriend sat next to him.

As a YouTube commenter astutely noted:

That is the nerdiest smackdown ever. If this wasn’t C-span I could swear it was Comic Con. Probably the most eloquent way of saying “That bitch is a ho”. Although, I wouldn’t mind tapping her Yale degree because she is probably a superfreak closeted S&M mistress and that’s my kind of political maneuvering.

I’m telling ya, YouTube commenters are the new American comedy art form. More:

typical fat guy’s laugh in the background.

Funny, fat guys DO have a distinctive laugh!

What was your reaction when you watched the video? If you’re like me and most people, you felt a mix of contempt, cringing revulsion and pity. You probably thought “wow, what a loser.” You vowed never to let a chick get under your skin that badly. A fleeting moment of sympathy made you wish this spazzy nerd would learn some game and start dating girls who didn’t look like Philip Seymour Hoffman.

There’s no doubt this dude is a lesser beta, perhaps even a greater omega. And this judgment is not solely a reflection of his unfortunate looks; his attitude, mannerisms, and, of course, total lack of amused mastery peg him as the needy, desperate, no-game-having betaboy he is deep in his soul. He has failed spectacularly the live TV version of the Jumbotron test (the worst way to fail). If he fumbles with nerdo Randian women, it is because of these latter characteristics, and not because of his looks.

His exceptional intelligence cannot compensate for all his negative traits. If anything, his smarts may be working against him. It’s easy to imagine his big brain spending week after week excessively analyzing his breakup and thinking up ways to rectify his pain. In a moment of pique — her body which he once penetrated (assuming he did) now mere inches from him on a televised panel — his unruly emotions took control of his mind and steered all that IQ in an embarrassingly unproductive direction.

This is what happens when you don’t have a clue how women operate. He exhibited the opposite of amused mastery — distressed incompetence. Vaginas all over the land snapped shut on cue.

Now I want you to read the following story. See if you have the same reaction to the bitter spurned ex-lover in this news story that you did for the woeful man in the video above.

Now that her label is finally starting to play the album for select critics, it’s easy to fathom why its contents have been closely guarded, all fears of leakage aside. Some of the lyrics are startlingly candid, even by the standards of Taylor “Naming Names, Taking No Prisoners” Swift.

And listening to “Dear John,” the scorching song that is-from all appearances-aimed at Mayer, all we can say is: Joe Jonas, you got off easy. […]

And it might seem sensationalistic to focus on “Dear John” at the expense of the rest of the album if it didn’t feel like it might be her masterpiece to date, or at least the most bracingly, joltingly honest song you’ve heard any major performer have the nerve to put on record in years. Maybe not since John Lennon took on estranged partner Paul McCartney in “How Do You Sleep” has a major pop singer-songwriter so publicly and unguardedly taken on another in song. But while Lennon’s song came off as mean-spirited, Swift was motivated by vulnerability and woundedness, which makes her song far braver… and more cutting. […]

There may be those who’ll accuse Swift of exploiting her own romantic travails in this and other songs. But the extended bridge section of “Dear John” (and, at six and a half minutes, the entire song is fairly extended) packs such a cathartic punch, it really does transcend any tabloid associations. When Swift sings “I’m shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town,” anyone who ever felt manipulated or used and found the strength to move on may be cheering like it’s the 4^th of July.

Taylor Swift is doing no different than Todd Seavey did to his ex-girlfriend on that C-Span panel: she is lashing out bitterly at an ex-lover who she feels wronged her. Substantively, her actions are the female version of Todd Seavey; the only distinction is the style in which each exposes their hurt and feeble stabs at revenge. (I say feeble, because I doubt very much John Mayer is going to lose sleep at being called out as a callous womanizer. The horde of groupies queueing up to sample his callous cock after hearing how he treated Taylor Swift is surely growing by the mile.) In fact, it could be said that Seavey is more admirable than Swift, for he at least lashed out at his ex while she was there to defend herself.

Here is an excerpt of Swift’s revenge lyrics:

Dear John/I see it all now that you’re gone/Don’t you think I was too young/To be messed with/The girl in the dress/Cried the whole way home/I should’ve known. […] It was wrong/Don’t you think nineteen’s too young/To be played/By your dark, twisted games/When I loved you so. […] You’ll add my name to your long list of traitors who don’t understand/And I’ll look back in regret I ignored what they said/’Run as fast as you can’

Notice how all the blame is shifted to Mayer. Swift removes any responsibility and accountability for her decision to fuck the alpha male. She is a mere womanchild, a vassal into which evil men have their way with her. (If true, can we revoke the right to vote from these womenchildren?) Todd Seavey’s bitterness flows from the same place — an inability to recognize that he bears responsibility for the impression he leaves with women.

Todd Seavey and Taylor Swift’s behavior toward exes IS ONE AND THE SAME. Their bitterness is a shared bond that crosses class, looks and celebrity.

And yet, what did you feel reading about Taylor Swift’s lash-out at John Mayer? The same contempt, revulsion and cold pity you felt for Todd Seavey? Likely not, if you’re honest with yourself. Certainly the women reading these two stories did not feel the same toward each antagonist protagonist. I bet the same women (and some manginas) who subconsciously lambasted Seavey for his bitterness were quick to offer sympathy and understanding to Taylor Swift. Just look at the way the story is told by the reporter, Chris Willman (presumably a man): “vulnerability and woundedness”, “startlingly candid”, “such a cathartic punch”. This is the reaction of someone who wants to offer Taylor Swift a shoulder to cry on. Todd Seavey will see no such shoulders offered; he will instead be cast to the icy wastelands where the tribe will mercilessly mock him from afar.

Your conflicting emotional responses to Seavey and Swift are no fluke. They are evolutionarily imprinted in your brain. All flows from the basic premise that eggs are expensive and sperm is cheap. From this premise, we subconsciously affirm that men are expendable, and women irreplaceable. One man can impregnate an entire tribe and keep the population growing. One woman is a population bottleneck that will mean the extinction of the tribe. And further on from that premise, we find ourselves offering comfort and uuuuunderstaaaaanding to Taylor Swift, while we offer nothing but sharp barbs and ridicule to the expendable Todd Seavey.

This is our reality, our world, our universe. Some human beings are worth more than others, and despite our grandiloquent litanies to the contrary, our actions tell us all we need to know, if we are willing to look with open eyes. Remember that the next time a palace guard of the old order tries to tell you what’s in your best interest.

Fat And Happy Girl Is Fat And Happy

Just when you thought you’ve seen every possible indicator of American cultural decline, along comes the news that not only are we getting fatter, but, incredulously, many fat asses are A-Ok with it. A recent study purports to show that…

A substantial proportion of obese people don’t think they’re too fat, new research shows.

Among more than 2,000 obese Dallas County residents surveyed in 2000-2002, 14 percent of African Americans and 11 percent of Hispanics — but just 2 percent of whites — believed that they [did not need] to lose weight, Dr. Tiffany M. Powell of the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas and her colleagues found.

Prior studies have shown even bigger (heh) numbers of fat people who don’t see they have a problem.

…overweight individuals today are less likely to classify themselves as “overweight” in contrast to overweight individuals surveyed over a decade ago. For example, the proportion of overweight women who perceive their weight to be “about right” increased from 14% to 21%, and that among overweight men from 41 to 46%.

Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. It’s also a moist stomach fold for growing a cheesy poof farm. Scientists call this problem “body size misperception”, aka “fat and proud”, “BBW”, “I’m not a Barbie”, “anorexia is the leading cause of death in America, yes it is”, “I get plenty of hot men chasing after my pleasingly plump curves”, “guys like a bit of meat on their women”, “Marilyn Monroe was a size 18”, and the crowd favorite “look at my huge tits!”.

You could see this change in attitude coming a mile away (literally). When you are fat and everyone around you is fat and getting fatter, you start to feel like less of a fat freak. You conform to the new norm. The pressure to lose weight is off when everyone else looks as disgusting as you do. With 75% of Americans now classified as overweight, obese or morbidly obese, that means you’d be hard-pressed to go a day without seeing a horde of fatties to affirm your self-esteem. The country has turned into a giant fat pride parade.

Even worse, there seem to be plenty of loser omega men willing to dump a fuck in the distended porcine holes of these beached whales. A six-second, half-erect rutting punctuated with a wet fart is enough lovin’ to kill the last ounce of incentive from a fat chick to lose weight. Naturally, these beef blimps getting unceremoniously pumped and dumped will be treated like shit by their “lovers”, but since fat chicks have bargain basement standards they won’t be able to tell the difference between being used as a convenient port of ejaculation and being lusted after by a man with options.

Not to mention all these fat chicks skew the mating market in favor of the few hot slender babes left in existence.

Additionally, independent of the effect of time, this study confirmed a number of factors influencing one’s ability to accurately gauge their own weight status: those who are educated are more likely to self-classify as overweight than those who are not, those with higher incomes are more likely to feel overweight than those with the lowest incomes, married people are more likely to feel overweight than never-married people, and members of minority groups are less likely than whites to consider themselves overweight.

There really is an underclass of less worthy people and an overclass of worthier people, just as there are shitty cultures and good cultures instead of a yippy skippy happy joy joy rainbow of multicultural relativity. Get used to it. No point railing against the brutal truth of this reality. Oh, and marriage does a body bad. Yet one more reason… as if it was needed… to avoid marriage in favor of cohabitation or LTRs.

I’m not surprised fat blacks and latinos have bigger inflated egos. I’ve been to the DMV. The image of a grotesquely fat black woman with a planet-sized ass strutting like a peacock in front of the boyz comes to mind. I’d like to say there was some disconnect with reality there, but maybe the black dudes love that extra wide. For all the talk about discrimination causing low self-esteem among minorities*, they think pretty highly of themselves.

(*Soon to be majorities. What’ll be their excuse then?)

Prediction: If fat black women lost weight, you’d see a lot more white men dating them.

People who misperceived their body size were happier with their health, and felt healthier, than those who did recognize their obesity […]

“Fat and happy” isn’t just a saying. If self-delusion serves some fitness enhancing evolutionary purpose, it’s hard to see what it is.

The study “points to really a lack of understanding about the effects of obesity,” Powell told Reuters Health. At the same time, she added, “you walk a fine line, because you don’t want people to necessarily have an unhealthy body image, but you also want people to understand that they need to lose weight.”

A big change in cultures that are beginning their decline is the abandonment of shame as a tactic to enforce norms. This woman has it completely wrong; you *want* people with unhealthy bodies to have an unhealthy body image. Shame the shit out of those shambling mounds! My god below, if this blog will be remembered for anything, it’ll be for its outstanding dedication to the art of shaming the losers and degenerates of society into improving themselves, cowering in humbleness, or slicing long and deep. I want the fatties, fembots, freaks, fuglies, spinsters, single moms and geldings to walk away from reading here with their egos so thoroughly crushed they never again for a moment entertain the thought they might be a valued member of society or an attractive love interest for a winner with options. In that gung-ho spirit, I shall commence the shaming forthwith (in order of viciousness)…

“Have you tried the new garden salad in the cafeteria? Oh, you should.”

“How’s the pregnancy coming along?”

“This is the elevator. I think you’re looking for the cargo lift.”

“I love that pup tent you’re wearing.”

“Your ass looks like two manatees fornicating.”

“If they hung a picture of you on the wall, it would fall off!”

“You are a disgusting, repulsive sack of steaming shit, a festering carbuncle on the ass of society, the crusty sperm-speckled wall of a bus depot bathroom, the filthy deposit of brown smegma that forms on toilet bowl rims, a wobbling circus sideshow freak of gargantuan enormousness. You have been known to roll over and accidentally crush baby walruses. Little children run from you. Tokyojesusfist laughs at you. Your mother pities you. I wouldn’t fuck you with the elephant man’s dick, assuming he could get it up for such a loathsome creature as yourself. You look like the missing link between a brontosaurus and a gelatinous cube, except fatter. When you die, you will be hoisted out by the roof of your house on a crane, and buried in a piano case. Your decomposing mountain of flesh will fertilize the largest old growth forest in the Americas.”

“Goddamn you are one big fat fucking fatty fat fat!”

As long as there are gross-looking people in the world, particularly those of the self-inflicted grossness type who proudly flaunt their grossness, I’ll be there, proud and firm, standing tall for truth, justice, and the Hedonist Way. And my word tea of fury shall smite them, and there will be beauty and busted egos in the land once again. Piece be with you.

Based on the findings, Powell said, physicians may want to take a step back before discussing lifestyle habits with their obese patients, and asking them first about how they perceive their weight and whether or not they think they need to lose weight.

The problem doctors have with fatties is a disincentive to tell the stark truth when telling it could mean the fattie will simply take his or her fat business elsewhere. If a fattie thinks she’s all that and a cup of joe, she’s not going to accept hearing a doctor chide her to lose weight or endure the health and dating consequences. Fatties don’t suffer truth-tellers gladly. So doctors tend to ease up on the shame and collect the big bucks when the fattie has to come in for a triple bypass diagnosis. This is why “the communitaaaaaahhh” has to step up and assume the role of the shamer… except that the communitaaaaaahhh is itself a rolling wave of fat undulations.

So there is no answer to America’s fat plague. Maybe let them eat themselves to an early death, and get on with rebuilding the country under a smaller population of healthy, attractive übermensch. Perhaps the Paleo diet will save us from a bloated end, but then the enviros would have a hissy fit about all that meat-eating warming the climate. No matter how you slice it, you can’t win…

unless you consider a substantial reduction in world population a beneficial goal.

Why So Serious?

The night was late. I was killing her softly with a tune I began playing on my guitar. She eased back, ensconced in the plush cushions of my sofa, and her eyelids lowered a bit as I strummed my grandioso opus for her ears only. A content smile warmed her face and she interrupted me when I paused to work out a chord.

“You look so serious when you play. I like it.”

My serious concentration took a break as I turned to face her. She had lust in her eyes. She sat up and wrapped her arms around my shoudlers. We kissed.

I easily recalled her statement the next day because they reminded me of eerily similar statements said by past lovers in analogous circumstances. When I have redirected my attention from seducing women to performing a solo activity disengaged from their participation, they have responded in like manner —

“I love it when you’re so serious.”

What is going on here? I have a theory.

Women love two things: Passionate men who pursue their mission(s) in life with single-minded focus, and easily distracted men whose interests and hobbies are capable of diverting their attention from the wiles of women. The evolutionary reasons for this can be explained thus:

– Men on a mission who pursue goals with passion are better at securing resources and protection (survivial value) for the women in their lives. Women don’t consciously think this way, of course, but they don’t need to. All their genes care about is getting them to swoon for a man fully “locked in” on whatever challenge he is confronting or purpose he is fulfilling. The rest will take care of itself.

– Men who are easily distracted away from women’s beauty and women’s guile are attractive because they signal a high level of competence and familiarity with women (an “act like you’ve been there before” attitude) that suggests to women a history of success at bedding them. Men who are successful at bedding women bring high replicative value that redounds to the sexual success of any sons the women may have by them. This is why women love to chase after unattainable bad boys who’ve never paid for a dinner or given flowers in their lives.

Moral of this post: Get a hobby, any hobby (except video gaming or Civll War reenacting), and throw yourself into it. Make sure she occasionally sees your brow sweating with passionate single-mindedness. You don’t even have to be that good at it. Her libido will respond right on cue.