Herb Attack!

First there was this. Then this herb poked his fat head up from his burrow. Then a magnificent specimen of herb was spotted on the concrete plains of a SWPL savannah. Suddenly herbs started springing up everywhere, wearing frontal papooses, inexplicably carrying satchels into nightclubs, and laying their bulbous heads in the laps of girlfriends to be stroked like a pet cat. But none of these squishy shuffling beasts in khaki could inspire the kind of awe, and gag reflex, that the latest discovery has provoked among the world’s top anthropological researchers. Behold… the Mother of All Herbs… the UBER HERB:

When I first saw this pic, I thought… Will Wilkinson! I mean, just look at their relationship exactness and complementarity. But no, I have been informed that Will does not have an Asian girlfriend. Then I thought… Hope! White and nerdy boyfriend? Check. Wearing healing crystals of Buddharrific transcendence? Nope, not Hope.

A close examination of this blurry photo reveals the embodiment of herbitude — perfect in presentation, flawless in composure, virtuous in cross-legged effeminacy, he is the archetype of the schlumpy herb whose feeble beta posturings are thrown into stark relief (fortuitously for the ninja photographer who risked his serum testosterone level to capture this herb on film) by the annoyed girlfriend stiffly rebuffing his tender ministrations.

The reader who sent this in provides the backstory:

Red Line, Wednesday evening.

This guy was so obviously beta he might as well have had a neon sign on him. He kept looking at her, smiling occasionally. He put his arm around her. He touched her leg the way some shy teenage boy might. He did the talking. He leaned into her. She might as well have been sitting next to a stranger. Her arms were crossed the whole time. Checking BlackBerry. No emotion on her face. When they got up, she got up first, and led the way. She wasn’t even cute; 4-5 at best. The thing was…they were married.

Married! This is what an equalist concept of relationships earns a man — crossed arms and clamped pussies. And this schmendrick looks so shit-eating happy to surrender any shred of manly dominance. I could carve a better man out of a purple saguaro.

OK, you say, instead of pointing and laughing how about some solutions to help this guy? Hey, I aim to please.

I’d begin with the easiest and quickest improvements and work my way up to the more difficult herb-cleansing tasks.

First, style and presentation.

• I’d have him shave his head. If you’ve got hair like that it’s the only way to go. If his wife protests, even better.
• NO GODDAMN KHAKI. Ever. Only guys who already possess an understanding of style should attempt khaki. Not herbs wearing high waters.
• Unbotton the top button on his shirt.
• Even though this photo is blurry, I can tell his shoes suck. New shoes.
• Glasses dropped for contacts. Or at least more fashionable eyewear.
• Perhaps a soul patch to add a hint of edginess. Or a hint of “I’m not a doormat, really.”
• Tanning booth.
• Gym membership. Of course, he’d probably gravitate to the treadmill or hip abductor machine. I’d make sure he found his way to the heavy iron.

Next, body language.

• Uncross your legs, nancyboy. Old men and fruitcups sit like that. Spread em and display the goods. An alpha male loves the thought of impolitely shoving the contours of his mighty package into the viewing angle of scandalized Metro riders.
• Lean *away from*, not *into*, your woman. A healthy relationship always features the girl cozying up to the man. Egalitarian libertarians like Will Wilkinson who live and breathe in the world of abstraction will never understand this, but women WANT their men to be dominant, despite their claims to the contrary. They WANT to be the ones leaning into him.
• Stop smiling like an idiot at your girl, especially when she’s not returning your joy. Do you know what your face says? “Oh, I’m wetting myself that I have YOU, my precious flower. Thank you, Asian girlfriend, for blessing me with the exquisite pleasure of your company and tightness of your Oriental vagina. This love we share… wait… excuse me, getting a little choked up… a lone tear pregnant with possibility shouts my love for you. PS You are permitted to walk all over me.”

Finally, we’d move on to LTR game.

• I’d tell him to pay attention to his wife’s behaviors, and stop feeding her revulsion with counterproductive betaness. So, when wifey folds her arms, scowls, refuses to touch you IN PUBLIC, and generally acts like a bitch, you STOP, DROP, and ROLL the fuck off from her. Pawing at her like a needy puppy isn’t going to help. You know what would help? Flirting with another woman in front of her.
• Once you’ve figured out how to read your wife’s “you disgust me” body language, you will be tempted in all your glorious betaness to inquire “What’s the matter, honey?”. Resist this urge. You would only be digging the hole deeper.
• Hey, guess what, it’s OK to tease your wife for being a bitch. “Try not to look so happy, babe. I’m just a man, not a god.”
• When your marriage is this arid, it’s a good idea to disappear for a week. When you return, act like nothing is wrong.
• Lead, don’t follow, and don’t “complement”. Your wife wants to step in place behind you, not next to you and not in front of you; stop denying her this fulfillment.
• Read this blog for relationship game. It may be the only thing that can save you from a brutal divorce theft ass raping.

As I’ve written before, the Asian woman is a white beta male’s dream. Asian girls are guided less by their primitive gina tingles than women of other races, and are more susceptible to the herbly charms of the provider beta, as long as the provider beta in question is a white dude. The white beta male can wallow like a pig-shaped puffed pastry in his desperate, needy, cloying betaness with the Asian girlfriend without worrying so much that she’ll dump him for the nearest bartender. The white beta male would have to settle for a fat white chick to enjoy the same treatment.

But when you’ve become a caricature of a herb, and so beta that your Asian wife is repulsed by you and showing it in public, you’ve got serious problems. You’re one short step down to omegatude and midnight masturbation marathons to Caucasian-eyed anime.

Safeway Siren

Standing in the mixed nuts section of Safeway, a blur of blonde caught my peripheral vision. Turning, I saw a gorgeous girl following a middle-aged man around the fruit bins. She looked about 18 years old, at the peak of her womanly ripeness. She was wearing velvet athletic shorts so small that the underside of her ass barely poked through the bottom, a divine demarcation between legs and buttocks. Her breasts were perfection — round, firm C cups that pulled her t-shirt taut. She walked with the bouncy, playful, slightly self-conscious gait of a younger girl swathed in the fleshy encumbrances of an older developed woman. She was a solid 9.

The man was pasty, dumpy, 45-ish, and smiling like a goof; a very happy herb, indeed. His body language was animated and he talked rapidly, cheerfully. Something about this duo was peculiar. This wasn’t a father-daughter team. I gathered my nuts and left the two behind. We rendezvoused again in aisle 9, next to the sardines and canned tuna. This time, the girl glanced at me with big eyes and parted lips, and if it wasn’t a trick of store lighting, her face blushed a pink hue. I matched her glance while the herb continued chattering in her ear, oblivious to our silent flirtation.

I lingered a bit around them to gather valuable information. She had an accent. She looked northern european; I suspected she was Dane or Norwegian, perhaps of Baltic descent. She had a limited grasp of English and, presumably, American culture, as the herb, who looked like he was about to die of a heart attack from swelling happiness, spent a lot of time slowly explaining the foodstuffs for sale and the pricing convention to her.

It didn’t take long for me to assess the situation; she was either an au pair or a foreign exchange student and the herb was the host family herbiarch. This was the most likely scenario. The three of us passed each other a few more times in aisles 7, 4 and 1. Each time she met my eyes with tender, yearning lust.

What grabbed my attention wasn’t so much that an au pair was flirting with me, but the behavior of the herb. I’ve never seen a more joyous middle-aged man. He was practically skipping down the aisles, his gums flapping a million miles an hour, his jowly cheeks inflamed a crimson hue, his voice a confident baritone of manly vigor. This was a man who clearly felt infused with new life. The physically close company of this young woman, who it should be noted smiled warmly at the herb and listened attentively when he spoke, shaved 20 years of age off his life. No windfall of riches, no business success, no winning home sports team can inspirit a man as vitally as a young, pretty woman in his thrall.

Naturally, the herb imagined more thrall than there was, if his au pair’s surreptitious flirting with me was any indication. But picture the likely contours of this herb’s life: A fat and dumpy sow wife, ingrate kids, crippling mortgage on an oversized house, sensible sedan, shit job, depressing neighbors, and a gloomy sunken aging face that young American women no longer seriously entertain with their flirtations staring back at him apathetically in the mirror every morning. One can understand why a herb of this caliber would spring to life inhaling the meagerest estrogenic perfumes of an 18 year old vixen.

At the cash register, herb and hottie rolled up behind me. As I placed my selection of delicious fruits and almond butter on the conveyor the girl nervously fidgeted with her shirt and peered down at her feet. A wave of shyness contorted her face and body. She pulled out a pack of gum which she fumbled and dropped to the floor. It landed on my shoe, so I bent over and retrieved it for her, never letting my eyes waver from hers. The herb must have noticed this change in her countenance because he stopped chattering about the great items one can find in an American supermarket and took his first look at me. Perhaps he pieced it together, but probably not. I smiled at them both and left the store.

My future. It won’t be that herb’s. Hookers, game and, if need be, expatriation to cash in on my Americanness with a much younger loving, sexy East European or South Asian woman. Anything less would be… uncivilized.

Reader Mailbag: Lez Just Be Friends Edition

Email #1: “It’s a part of my rock and roll fantasy”

 I absolutely love your blog. I have a question that maybe you can answer, but first let me point out, I am currently a corporate slave.
My question is, what is the best type of job to have to allow one to go out from 10-2 a.m. four days a week? I work a 8:30-5 job like most hacks, and am not able to do to stay out those hours and function at work; so, I usually go home at 11. Lame huh?
I don’t want to be a bartender because of the pay, and the fact that I like to go to 2-3 bars in a given night–I would not want to be confined to a single bar. Being a rock and roll musician can get one a lot of tale, but there are only a few that reach the level where they can have a comfortable life. I have thought about possibly becoming a realtor because then I could sleep in until 11, which would allow me to pursue fresh game until 2-3 a.m., since I could set my own work schedule. Other self-employment ideas would allow that as well, I just cannot think of other ideas.
Being on tv or radio can get one laid because it allows for fame; however, I find these options unrealistic because of the few slots open and all the competition.
(As a side-note, I have been considering setting up a nude photography business to attract girls which will do just about anything (note: not hardcore)).

In the culture,

S.

Any kind of job involving international travel, embassies, and diplomats should score you tons of poon. Bonus points if you can’t talk about your job in detail. Forget the 10-2 a.m. target acquisition window; that’s limited thinking. Your hunting grounds are everywhere and all the time. Going home at 11 p.m. is a non-issue. You should be doing most of your womanizing before 11 anyhow, when you aren’t competing with the late night sausage hordes.

International stays in a corporate or governmental context automatically give you a massive DHV inasmuch as you will be seen as the “expert from afar” or the exotic “other”.

Learn a language or two. Knowing how to speak the native tongue of your preferred foreign hottie is worth $50K in pickup workshops. I suggest Russian and Czech.

Some corporate careers are better than others at infusing you with a PUA attitude. Publishing, corporate law partnership, and Hill lobbyist come to mind. Real estate is good, too, because it puts you in contact with lots of gina tingly housewives and single yuppie lawyer cunts.

By the way, some bartenders make very good money. I know one who just bought a $400K condo with his fiancee.

Setting up a photography studio in your home is gold. Try to get a side job freelancing for a local rag. Submit your photos to art shows. Put ads on craigslist seeking models to pose for “avant-garde Parisian photographer in the US for a major gallery exhibit.” Never underestimate the vanity or the gullibility of America’s urban sluts.

Email #2: “Cause she’s cold-blooded, check it and see”

LMR ever?

The other night I had this 18yo on the back of my car, we had made out a few time. She was naked on the back seat with her legs spread open and her back against the window, I was naked and had just put a condom on, and just when I my dick touched her pussy and I was finding her glourious hole she said ‘Not gonna happen’ to which I replied ‘Well, it is happening’.
She then got dressed, said something to the effect of ‘I lost my virginity 2 nights ago (other guy not me) and im not gonna do it in the back of a car’ and I kept my usual aloofness but inside I was confused as hell.
WTF happened and wtf did I do wrong? Was it just LMR and I didn’t know how to get through it?

V.

Your retort was unacceptable. “Well, it is happening” forced the issue on her. You boxed her in, so no wonder she clamped up. A better response would have been to keep your cool, get dressed, and drive her home silently. She would have gotten confused and asked what was up, at which point you would say “I have to get up early.”

Look, dude, you’re dealing with a Class A skank whore. She lost her virginity two nights ago (if she’s telling the truth) to another dude and now she’s in the car fooling around with you. Chicks like this are master manipulators of male egos. They love the validation they get from hard cocks being pushed up in their faces, and then they power trip by denying those cocks sweet release. You need to play advanced aloof and indifferent game with these types. They are what are known as “primative women” and won’t respond to anything but glorious asshole game.

Email #3: “Edwina Scissorlegs”

Been reading your blog. Not gonna comment on some of your philosophy, but 99% of your tips seem right on.

I’ve been dating typical dykes for a while, which is getting boring. Straight girls seem hotter, more femme, and easier to just fuck for a while without having to move in on the second date. (I’m not even gonna talk about the bi ones.)

What’s your take on chicks who want to pick up other chicks? Any special tips for us butch bitches looking to break down the great straight barrier?

T. (woman’s name)

99%? Damn, I must be losing my edge. My take on lez chicks picking up straight chicks: Probably not much different than dudes picking up chicks. Not that I have much experience as a lesbian picking up chicks, but I’d imagine that whatever turns on a straight girl isn’t going to be much different depending on whether the game is coming from a lesbian suitor or a male suitor. In other words, if you’re a needy, desperate, cloying, awkward, ugly beta lesbian you’ll do about as well as a beta male. One exception might be that a straight girl contemplating sexual delights with another woman would be likely to emphasize the looks of her female suitor and de-emphasize her suitor’s social status. Why do I say this? Because in my observation, every experimental female bisexual couple I’ve known were hot, while the true blue dedicated lesbian couples I see around town all the time are usually quite ugly and mannish. My conclusion is that full-time lesbians are less concerned about looks in a long term partner (and in themselves). They probably respond well to 100% rapport game. So my advice for picking up bicurious babes is to make yourself look as good as possible, wear something trendily sexy (but not slutty), and give the girl a few sincere compliments about her style or the way she carries herself. Try to isolate her away from her friends as soon as possible, and spend a good hour or two in a dark lounge having deep profound conversation on a vinyl sofa.

In related news you can use, what is the ratio of gay men to lesbians in typical US cities? It’s gotta be 50 to 1.

Email #4: “Get in now! Only a few spots left!”

I found your blog on the advice of a very smart guy.  I read up on Game several years ago w/ the usual suspects, Mystery, Strauss, DeAngelo.  Have definitely lost my way over the years as I become more obsessed with new things (mostly poker and some career related projects).  Your blog is the best I’ve seen, and has really reinvigorated my belief in the benefits of it.  I’ll cut to the chase, I am a big believer in professional services, I’ve hired people to teach me lots of things.  I haven’t really seen a business component to your site but am inquiring if you offer customized analysis beyond the blog.

Regards,

N.

I’ve gotten a few emails like this guy’s lately. While I’m flattered, I doubt I will be offering any professional services, for a couple of reasons. One, while I’m quite good at observing flaws in a man’s game and general presentation, and giving him advice on what to fix, I’m a lackadaisical motivator. I don’t have it in me to “push you into sets” or “pump up your state”. Two, there a lot of businesses out there that provide pickup tutelage, game theory, and style advice. Some are good, some not so good. My impression is that the market for these services is currently saturated.

But I might consider doing one-on-one personal consultations for a small fee, or a beer, or maybe even free of charge, just for fun. I think I would get a kick out of helping a guy get positive reactions from women.

PS: Unless you are making beaucoup bucks off it, or you only play occasionally for fun, drop the poker. It’s a pointless timesuck. It’s World of Warcraft minus an avatar.

The Perfect Answer To “I Have A Boyfriend”

After Zeets’ barbarous romp through the SWPL cookout of the year, the Asian girl in attendance decided she couldn’t get enough of his Conanical brusqueness and the two of them went on a date a month later. Before the date, Zeets was informed by various palace guards and court whisperers that the Asian girl had a semi-serious boyfriend. This didn’t stop him.

ME: How’d the date go?

ZEETS: Pretty damn good. She’s into me, it’s easy to tell.

ME: How so?

ZEETS: Just the way she laughed at all my jokes. She smiled every time I spoke. And then back at my place we were sitting on the couch, and I started kissing her neck. She moaned loudly, high-pitched, like a horny kitten. I wonder if all Asian girls moan that loudly.

ME: So you got her back to your beastly sanctum.

ZEETS: On the ride over, she said “You know I have a boyfriend.”

ME: Oh boy, here we go. What’d you say?

ZEETS: I looked her right in the eye and said “I don’t care.” She didn’t say anything, but her eyes sparkled with lust.

******

There it is, folks. The perfect answer to the “I have a boyfriend” plaintive demurral, the last moist gasp of a blushing gina about to succumb to a torrent of tingles.

“I don’t care.”

Have there ever been three more beautiful words in the English language? “I love you”? Pshaw. Too plebian. A beta’s cheap substitute for passion. But “I don’t care” encapsulates the essence of alphaness; aloofness, assholery, and authority are communicated in the split second it takes to spit these three wondrous words.

It’s one of the premiere Alpha Phrases, and definitely qualifies as One Word Game, the powerful new seduction system which I am currently developing with a team of crack pussy aficionados.

As with all sciences dealing in the nebulosity of human behavior, there are contingencies and caveats in the use of the nuclear “I don’t care” game changer. One, don’t say it with anger. The words must escape your lips on a pitch of perfect neutrality, perhaps laced with a hint of impatience. Two, context matters. As I wrote in my post on handling the “I have a boyfriend” shit test, the timing of the BF bomb will determine your best response. If she tosses it at you right after you’ve said “Hi” (or worse, on the walk over), your “I don’t care” reply could incite resentment and anger. She’s saying it to get rid of you, not shit test you. But if she says it later, after you’ve gamed her for a minute and sparked her interest, then treat the BF line for what it is — a crass shit test, and a reflexive id-shaped anti-slut blurt. “I don’t care” should be your go-to answer.

Forget every other line you’ve read or heard; the “I don’t care” insta-rejoinder reigns supreme. Besides Zeets, two other men have told me about the lubricated reactions they got from girls when they responded with “I don’t care” after getting heaved on by the “I have a boyfriend” upchuck.

And why limit yourself?

HER: I don’t think I’ll have any free time this week to meet up.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: Sorry I’m late.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: I didn’t cum.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: How many girls have you slept with?

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: I’m breaking up with you.

YOU: I don’t care.

***

HER: Do you love me?

YOU: I don’t care.

Can anyone deny that the man in each of the above scenarios comes off as totally alpha? Would you be embarrassed to have these conversational snippets of your love life shown on a Jumbotron in front of thousands? I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d beam with pride.

I now predict the overuse of “I don’t care” by millions of apprentice betas. Soon, saturation will mean that girls will respond with something equally witty or with an expert level shit test they deem unassailable. I will give the ladies no ideas here. The sexual arms race continues, straddling the Vaginot line between mutually assured destruction and mutually assured pleasure.

Good News

Game will never reach saturation point. There are too many disbelieving betas like this guy trying to gain status nipping at the heels of his betters.

(Link sent by an anonymous reader as a BOTM submission. It didn’t qualify, but it did get its own post.)

Chicks Dig Jerks: A Series

Some men and most women are so afraid of facing the truth about the gina tingle that even when the evidence is slapping them in the face you will hear them say things like “Oh, women don’t *really* want assholes. They want niceguys who are confident and strong.”

Weasel words. Exhibit A: Love letters from women to death row inmates. Let’s take a latesummer’s jaunt through some of these declarations of undying love for men who have stabbed, shot, strangled, raped, disemboweled, chopped up, tortured, violated in sundry horrific ways, and otherwise demonstrated many qualities of the “confident and strong” man with their unfortunate victims.

It happened to me and I am considered the most level headed person going (apparently) and then people decided I lost my mind! But I wouldn’t swap my man for the world. Sometimes you just have to take a chance! What have you got to lose? I doubted my feelings at first, I just figured it would be another complication for him, and for me. But now, we are as happy as can be. You could find love on the outside, but would you be any better off? Any man can betray a woman and vice versa, but it the love you find is real, it will stand everything that lies ahead. I know my guy could be there for the next got knows how many years, before/if execution comes. But I will be with him all the way, and I will be there if/when he dies. Grab any happiness you can. I was married for several years, and my husband turned out to be a pretty useless liar – he got caught! But with my guy, I have found a person who is so completely on my level, I never thought I could find this, but I did and I am always by his side! Just be careful, some are charmers, some are just looking for kicks, but some are genuine and need loving. If you don’t have experience of death row apart from this guy, then just heed that warning. I have been involved with D[eath]R[ow] for a good 10 years, and I have learned alot, both good and bad. But if you really feel it is right, then just go for it and enjoy it:thumbsup:

******

It took months, for me to find to the word for what I had been feeling since only a few weeks after I began to write a death row inmate. I only told him yesterday; the word that had escaped me was intimacy. Not intimate as in physical touch or sex, but truly intimate. The two of us almost seem to live within eachother. We know eachother in a way noone else has ever known either of us. He says that I scare the hell out of him, because it is as if I can see through to his soul. I feel the same with him, he knows and understands all.

******

To the love of my life, my baby and husband forever, my Randy…love you baby, always ‘n’ ever, Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah!!! Can’t wait ’til he’s home with me one day…and we can have our beautiful babies together. [Editor: Great, just what society needs.] Merry Christmas to all you ladies also, all of us who have this bond because of where our men are :(, Lou, Kyla, Babealicious, rosita, and Kris…I am praying for us all and for our men, that they all know how much we love them and that they will all be off the row one day and home with us, where they belong. 🙂 Love ya’ll. Happy Holidays.

Someone on the forum asked what everyone’s loved one did to get on death row. This is how one woman answered:

Capital murder is the only thing someone can be sentenced to death for. My husband was only an accomplice, he didn’t commit the crime he was so unjustly sentenced for. I however do not feel like anyone should ask that question in the “loving a death row inmate” forum, but that is just my opinion.

Yes, best to ignore that 800 pound bloodthirsty monster in the room. I’d imagine women who love death row inmates are exceptionally skilled at rationalizing away unpleasant realities. A common theme among the letters is how many women protest their lovers are innocent, and how wrong it is of the state to “kill people who kill people to prove that killing people is wrong?????:angry:” [actual forum comment].

More love notes for killer blokes:

Wow… I came into here cuz I wondered how women of lifers are like? Now I know. They’re full of compassion and patience enough to share with everyone here and over there and with their men. It’s amazing how some of you stand by your man and not have a divorce within first 5 years of incarceration. Amazing! I could just cry by just thinking how you endure that! Wow… Also, it seems like intimate loved ones of livers could tolerate celibacy. How? Wow… I just KNEW that love DOES exist without the necessity of sex, I just wanted to see the words of those women with my own eyes. Now I know that type of love does exist… unconditionally. 🙂 God B-L-E-S-S all of you special people! Smile. And I cried the another day several months ago…

Women would rather endure years of celibacy and separation in the faint hope that their death row lovers will be released, than go on a date with a law-abiding beta in the outside world.

I got my first letter from my new friend on DR…I have to admit I was a little timid but when I read his first letter all those feelings went away..He is so nice, friendly, and really warm. He was so happy to get my letter…I must say that I am really looking forward to getting to know him.

A lot of death row love affairs start with the woman writing a letter to one of the inmates. Why do so many women feel compelled to write tender, inquisitive heartfelt notes to killers in prison instead of writing to Nathaniel Schnerdling the accountant who lives across the street? After reading my blog, you now know the answer.

Well…I am not sure what to say or how to say it…I guess I’m just feeling really overwhelmed…and I’m afraid this is something he can’t help me with…he doesn’t know how things feel from my side…I’m hoping that someone can give me some words of wisdom…

Here is a man on death row…that I am head over heels for…and things get more and more intense with each letter and now phone calls…He told me last night that I was his everything. Which means so much more than saying “i love you”…and I am losing it…

Since the beginning he told me that he appreciated me because I had these two worlds My world and Our world…in our world I am his and he is mine…and in my world I go about my day to day life…studying, dating, going out, etc…and I used to be so good at seperating the two…the problem is the closer we get the more time I want to spend in “our” world…not that I am going out less or that school is suffering….more that I have no interest in anyone else…

A well-known game tactic is the “Our World” routine, where you build rapport with a woman by describing how there are two worlds, the outside world where the girl interacts with her humdrum daily life of work, school, friends, etc., and “our world” where both of you share a secret bond and the rules of society don’t apply. It would seem natural born killers are also natural born seducers.

I Can’t Say How I Met Him
We Grew Up Together.
I Can’t Say When I Loved Him
It Just Always Has Been.
Ican’t Say What Happened
To Put Him Where He Is.
I Only Know I Love Him,
Simply Because He Is.
He Is My Best Friend
The Reason Why I Smile.
He Is The One I Love
And Have For Quite Awhile.
No, He Isn’t Perfect…
I’m Not Asking Him To Be.
He Is Simply On Death Row
And Means The World To Me.

Somewhere in America, a girl just received a poem from an idealistic young beta and shared it with her girlfriends for laughs.

I just had to share this with all my friends at PTO. I have a very dear friend on Polunsky Unit, in Texas, and I just recieved the most amazing package from him I have ever seen. I am going to try and get a picture of this artwork to put up.

To any people that see these men as monsters, I just wish that you could feel and see what I am feeling and seeing today. It cost him over $30 to send this package to Australia.

It is a beautiful picture of Indian art, past present and future, and I am one that loves Indian artwork, but I have never seen so much detail and beauty in this.

The other is a painting he did of some roses, and the details are perfect with that painting as well. He painted and sketched them for me :). It isnt normal paper either, its proper artwork stuff. (his level one).

I am just so excited I had to share. I feel the luckiest person alive today, having such a dear friend in my life, that took time out to show how much he appreciates me as a friend.

These men aren’t monsters. Look, he painted roses on higher quality paper!

I have a question (no Im not getting married), I was just curious. When you marry a man on death row, that is already there, and the visits are non contact, do they give you time to be together, so you can at least touch, like a hug and a kiss. Its just something I have always been curious about.

I wonder if Half Sigma would consider death row weddings prole?

Charles made me a beautiful home made card with a neclace on a rope with a little tube of his hair in it. 🙂 It was just so nice to have something thats a part of him, It just made my day. he said i cant send him my hair, doesnt seem fair:(

******

I just got my phone bill in!! My guy was moved from Polunsky to county, and of course it is GREAT cause he has phone access, DAILY, not the every 90 days to call me. The calls are $52 a call 😮 He is so worth it though, but I could of flown over there and visited him in county by the time these calls all hit my bill.

What love does to us all 🙂 He is so worth it though 😀 Now he will be on a limit, cause I will have to prepay the calls. 😦 On the other hand though, I should enjoy it, because he will be back to every 90 days again after he is done in county. Ummm, but then I will be broke. 🙄
Its so hard to say I cant accept (I wouldnt do that anyway). Just to hear his voice on the other end for 15 minutes, going HEY SWEETIE!! 🙂

Women will go broke for the men they love. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to buy a girl a drink.

Well I haven’t had a phone call in a couple days, no mail either… then today I get his letter that he’s in the hole. :angry: Sometimes this is so frustrating. As if we aren’t limited enough already, now we are limited even more. I haven’t been able to talk to him this week so I don’t even know the reason behind it. From what I hear they are on it right now, sending guys to the hole left & right. He has no food (except their daily meals) they took all his personal things and it will be 2 weeks before he gets it back… so in the mean time he is staring at the walls, hungry, and going crazy… which makes me crazy knowing he’s crazy… does the maddness ever stop???

….breathe…

******

I never, ever would have imagined that I’d fall so deeply in love with him when I first began corresponding with him. But now that it’s happened, I cannot deny it. I have come to love him deeply over the past few months and he feels the same about me. Our souls are intertwined. I want to freely love this man and give him my heart. Yet, at the same time I am scared that I will hurt him down the line. I’m scared that I won’t be able to give him what he needs. I’m scared that I’m just not strong enough to do this. I question why I would fall in love with someone that I will never be able to share my life with in a conventional way, someone that I will never be able to fall asleep with, come home to at the end of the day, or even kiss.

How sweet!

I have been writing a DR inmate for a significant period and really felt we had a deep bond, a sincere and close friendship. Recently our dynamic evolved from platonic to flirtatious. We both acknowledged this and mutually confirmed to each other that there may be something special developing between us. He wanted us to become closer yet I was very conflicted about whether to explore it or not as I have never been involved with a man who is incarcerated so I have infinite issues with this which are intensified by him being on DR.

The ultimate fear was obviously the possibility that he may be executed and the unbearable agony of watching my lover die like that. Did I want to allow myself to fall in love with him knowing this could be our tragic fate?

The woman who wrote the above (which I excerpted from a longer posting) sounded of well above average intelligence.

today i found his updated ad in VOICES FROM INSIDE ,I am very sad because some months ago he told me that he did not have any ad online .im agree that he can write other pen pals .the only think ,i can not accept, is that he lied to me 😦 i have supported him in anyway i could but now i dont know how to behave:confused:

A death row inmate lied to you? Shocked, I am!

I just want to say that I have been “lurking” here for awhile. I am so excited to have found this site. When I am reading the posts here, I finally felt normal. I am very much in love with a man on death row. I have explained this situation repeatedly to my friends and family. Some of them have suggested that I have lost my mind. I am 28 years old and have a very good job. I am attractive and lead a very stable life. I have several non romantic pen pals on death row but then I met him. I have found my perfect match in every way. We have more in common than most people would believe. My friends have pointed out all that I would be giving up. BUT I already have a beautiful nine year old daughter and due to my career I was never planning to have anymore children so in that respect I am not missing out. I would much rather be with the correct person in a tough situation than with the wrong person in a comfortable situation. I may only be 28 years old but trust me when I say that I have faced more challenges than some people will face in a lifetime. I have found the person that I love and while it’s only been about six months, it feels like so much longer. I know that this relationship will be tough but he is able to call me each time he comes out of his cell, the calls are not collect as they are able to use phone cards and we write every single day. I am so in love with this man. Hearing the joy in his voice when we talk is so wonderful. He makes me feel very special and for once I know that someone is not with me because I am “hot”. He sees my heart and in return I see his. Sorry this is very long but I just wanted to say thank you for posting on this site and giving me a sense of acceptance in a world full of extremely judgemental individuals.

Doubters and feminists will claim that only low class, ugly women would fall for killer men. Oh, really?

This “Loving a Death Row Inmate” forum is ripe for righteous trollery. I’d log in under a female pseudonym (something similarly cutesy as the other female forum members, like “unicorngirlrainbowflyer”) and talk about how my lover wanted me to join him in slowly torturing and killing a teenage virgin, and then eating the victim’s heart together to seal our pact of eternal love, and how the thought makes me cry and orgasm like I’ve never orgasmed with any other man. I wonder how many sympathetic ears I would get?

Reader Arpagus wrote in response to the Death Row Lovers forum:

I have never seen so passionate declarations of love. Wish I could be loved like that. Being on death row obviously trumps everything else you could ever imagine would attract women. What we call game is nothing compared to this.

Even where there is no death penalty, killers are on the top of the food chain. There is a trial here now against a man for killing three people, including a pregnant woman. He got a female guard to enter a personal ad for him, resulting in 84 replies. 16 were already married and 30 sent nude pictures of themselves. Some were journalists, yes, but he he has more than enough real loving pussy left to live happily ever after.

Scott Peterson was on death row barely an hour when he received his first marriage proposal from a female fan. Do all women love convicted killers? No, but the sheer volume and intensity of sexual attention lavished on death row inmates tells us something very valuable about the deepest, sincerest desires of the female heart. And that something is quite discomfiting, indeed.

Whle Smart Sassy Susie the DC Lawyer Chick may balk at the idea that she would ever tingle in the gina for a death row inmate, the truth is that she is not so far removed from the women who do fall in love with killers. Her separation from those other women is a separation of degree, not kind. For every woman who writes love poems to cold-blooded killers, there are one hundred women whose hearts beat fast for an asshole who cheats, a jerk who lies, or an alpha who dominates.

The id monster holds dominion over us all, now and evermore.

500 Days Of Beta

I got dragged by a chick to see the movie 500 Days of Summer……………. ah, alright the truth is I wanted to see it too, not least of which because Zooey Deschanel is such a doll, thereby making up for her lack of range as an actress.

I thought the movie would be a clever indie riff on the typical rom-com, but it turned out to be the usual insufferable paeon to the righteously inscrutable whimsy of women and the ingratiating helplessness of the beta male, leavened with a gimmicky forward and backward calendar hopping effect. The lead male character, Tom, played self-pityingly by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, is the culmination of thousands of generations of beta males distilled into one uber beta. Every time he was on screen, I wanted him to get gang raped by a horde of fokken Prawn. Instead, he just goes on his merry beta way the entire length of the movie. Luckily for him, he is good-looking in that nonthreatening way that appeals to weirdo chicks, so he snags quality pussy despite himself. Had his character looked like the typical guy his crippling betaness would have meant involuntary celibacy.

Here is a partial list of the repellent beta things Tom did:

• He spends weeks pining for Deschanel’s character, Summer, before making a pseudo-backasswards-move. Game principle violated: The 3 second rule.
• He peers over his cubicle wall at Summer (she’s the admin at his office) like a creepy stalker. If he was a fat, balding old guy this behavior would get him slapped with a sexual harassment suit. Game principle violated: Everything.
• His first “date” with her is with a group of co-workers at a karaoke joint. Game principle violated: Avoiding LJBF territory.
• After karaoke night, they are drunk and Summer makes an *obvious* girl-style move on him — that is, she gives him the veiled opportunity to grab her and kiss her right there. But he misses all the cues and takes her beta bait, agreeing that it would be great to be her friend. Game principles violated: Escalation. Recognition of IOIs.
• In the copy room, she makes the first move and kisses him. Game principle violated: Being a leader.
• Somehow, they wind up in her apartment and bang, though the viewer is left not really knowing why she decided to go for it. Game principles violated: Relying on your cutesy emo youthfulness to get any action from women. Obtaining the inaugural bang on her turf.
• Tom daydreams about Summer constantly. Game principle violated: One-itis.
• He blubbers incessantly to his friends and < Wise Latina voice > Wise Little Sister < / Wise Latina voice > about his love for Summer and how to win her back after she dumps him. Game principles violated: Pedestal-ization. Toolery.
• When Summer dumps him in the diner, he is shellshocked. Game principle violated: Always keep two in the kitty.
• After the ignominious dumping, Tom spends months in a deep blue funk, flagellating himself and bringing everyone around him down. Game principle violated: Irrational self-confidence. Alpha philosophy violated: Interchangeability of women.
• Summer invites Tom to a party she’s hosting. Tom arrives filled to the brim with expectations that Summer will fall in love with him again, and, in what was the cleverest part of the movie, a split screen shows Tom’s expectations clashing with reality. At the party, Tom sees a fat diamond on Summer’s finger and realizes she is engaged. He sees the fiancee across the room, and then runs out of the party, his soul tormented, his penis shriveled. Run, Beta, run! Game principle violated: How to win back an ex-girlfriend. Alpha philosophy violated: Substituting wishful thinking for reality.
• While pining for Summer, Tom’s Wise Little Sister tells him to try and remember all the bad times in his short-lived relationship with her. Tom then gets all hindsightful, and recalls in crystal clear clarity what he couldn’t see when it was staring him in the face — namely, all the red flags Summer was planting in his ass. Like the way she dropped his hand first when they were holding hands, or the way she stopped giggling at his mincing hipsterly jokes, or the increasing frequency with which she told him she was “busy that night”. Naturally, this awakening shakes Tom out of his depression. Game principle violated: LTR management. Alpha philosophy violated: Unerring grasp of women’s nature.

It’s possible the director intended his movie to be a subversive precautionary tale for men — act like this guy and you’ll be a loser in love — but I think it likelier that the movie’s point was to serve as a nostalgic wallowing for hopeless romantics (you know, the kind of guy who describes himself as a feminist and is always ready to hoist his latest lust object onto a gilded pedestal) and the c’est la vie wing of the aggro-emo feminized buttplugging beta masses. Case in point: Tom never changes his stripes and never understands how he fucked up. The overriding message of the movie is: Hey man, sometimes love hurts. And chicks are mysterious forces who want what their hearts want, so there’s nothing you can do about it except dance to their tune.

Give this movie to me and I would have had a mentor teach Tom the fine art of sacking up, blessed him with some game and LTR tips, and informed him of the bestial nature of women. Then the movie would have been re-titled 5 Days of Summer, because Summer would have run crying from the room after she found Tom boffing her hotter best friend.