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All The Lonely Cougars

I’m never surprised when another study comes out confirming the Poon worldview. I’m that omniscient. Thanks to Days of Broken Arrows for passing along this Boston Globe article called “The Myth of Ashton” about dating events specifically targeted at cougars:

Maureen Trickett, an event organizer for 8minuteDating.com, had an idea based on all the hype surrounding younger men dating older women. She decided last year to plan an event specifically for that demographic – a night of speed dating for women-of-a-certain-age and the boyish men who love them.

Trickett posted the event online, and women quickly signed up. But the men – they were slow to show interest. After only six men registered, the event was canceled.

“I need eight men,” Trickett explained. “If I don’t get eight, the system cancels the event.”

Maureen Trickett could have saved herself a lot of time and energy if she read this blog. On the other hand, maybe not. That would require facing reality.

Trickett decided it was worth a second try. She set up another speed dating event for a recent Sunday afternoon at Tommy Doyle’s in Kendall Square, this time for older women and younger men, as well as older men and younger women. The room would be split in half – age-inappropriate on both sides.

Self delusion is an unlimited resource. See: Just about every single social policy since 1960.

But again she had a shortage of younger men. The “cougar event,” as Trickett was calling it, was canceled.

And Nelson went “Ha haaw!”

The older men/younger women event went on as planned, but only because Trickett waived the fee for a few women so that they’d sign up and the numbers would be even.

Older men with younger women is much more natural than younger men with older women. While women are suspicious of older men’s motives and station in life, they are at least willing to give the sophisticated gents a chance to pitch themselves. Waiving the fee for men at the cougar event still would have resulted in few men except the desperate loser dregs showing up.

Despite what magazines and tabloids might suggest, Trickett said, despite all the talk of cougar culture, men still want to date younger women, and older women . . . well, their options are limited.

If you’re taking your cues from mass media, you’re hopeless. Magazines and tabloids serve to perpetuate the pretty lies. Else they wouldn’t sell.

Sure, Demi Moore broke a mold, and I know a few couples – family members and friends of friends – who represent the highly publicized demographic of older women and younger men, but the dating industry will tell you that for the most part that demographic is a myth.

If you arrange your life with an eye on the exceptions rather than the rules, you deserve the sorrow, loneliness and failure coming your way. Demi Moore-Ashton Kutcher is a one in a million oddity. 99% of 40+ women aren’t in the ballpark of Demi’s looks, and 99% of men with Ashton Kutcher’s fame, looks and money won’t date washed up broads like Demi when there is a world of hotter, younger girls available.

“With men dating women, it tends to be up to six years younger but it will only be up to two years older.”

And why is that?

“Guys tend to have unrealistic expectations,” said [Mark] Brooks, who bragged that he is one of the mythical Ashton Kutcher-types (he recently dated someone nine years older than him).

Mark Brooks is your typical feeble-minded betaboy who licks the crusty anal dirt of his feminist overlords and begs for more. How do we know this? One, he dates an older woman and is proud of it. Two, he thinks the reason men prefer to date younger women has to do with unrealistic expectations. No, Mark, that’s not it. Men date younger women because they are biologically impelled to seek the love and sex of women who show healthy signs of fertility. No doubt Mark is highly jealous of guys like me dating all the young babes he covets from afar as his old lady slaps his face with her droopy tits.

Those HurryDate age ranges mirror what most men ask for online. I asked Kate Bilenki, a spokeswoman for Plentyoffish.com, a dating website with 10 million members, if she’s ever seen a male profile call for an older woman. “In my experience, no, I can’t say that I have,” she said.

Brutal.

Bilenki adds another depressing tidbit: “For every 55-year old male, there are three 55-year-old women.”

Soul ripping.

Why are there cougars if it’s such a hellish existence? Some cougars were too unattractive in their prime mating years to get a decent man to commit to them. Some are divorced and overestimated their competitive value on the sexual market as older versions of themselves. Some have given up attracting the men they really want (i.e. older men with means and options who don’t want them) and have chosen the pathetic life of offering their aged, floppy pussies free of charge to horny younger guys who just want to dump a quick fuck in any available hole, no muss no fuss.

Then there are the women who became cougars because of their own stupid choices. These are the sad detritus of former urban slut machines; the women who spent their valuable youth hopping from one alpha cock to another only to wake up a day late and a wedding ring short in their early 30s wondering why the alphas no longer look at them with lust in their eyes. Now, even the beta males don’t want them. They are forced to settle, and settle hard. If they can.

Here’s a juicy irony: The anti-aging industry that cougars cling to like life support is the brainchild of betas. Those same dull, socially awkward nerds the cougars ignored when they were kittens are busily inventing the science and technology that may one day grant them a reprieve from the horror of fading beauty.

If the betas disappear, well… so do the cougars’ hopes.

Which way do you think America is heading?

Because the ‘I have a boyfriend’ shit test reflex is commonly encountered when picking up women, many resourceful men have figured out ways around it. As far as I can tell, workarounds fall into the following categories:

  • Acknowledge it and plow

An example of this would be replying “Oh, that’s cool. Hey, you can bring him along when we go for drink.” Or: “Every girl has some guy they call a  boyfriend.” Proceed with pickup as before.

  • Ignore it and plow

She says “I have a boyfriend”; you say… “Hey, check this out. Which fingers do you wear your rings on?” Proceed with pickup as before. [See: Style’s Ring Finger routine]

  • Make a clever retort and plow

For instance, she says “I have a boyfriend” and you reply “That’s cute. So does my girlfriend! We have something in common.” Proceed with pickup as before.

  • Preempt it

Before she has a chance to vomit the ‘I have a boyfriend’ line, you say “I’m surprised you would come to a place like this without your boyfriend” or “Does you boyfriend know you’re out here tonight?” and see if she bites. Upside: Saves lots of time avoiding users like the girl in yesterday’s post. Downside: Reminds her of the boyfriend if she really has one.

  • Indict the boyfriend and plow

The idea behind this tactic is to plant a seed of doubt in her mind about her boyfriend (or strengthen the doubt already in her mind). So you reply: “Do you need your boyfriend’s permission to talk to a cool guy in a bar?” Or: [look around] “I used to let my girlfriend go out with her friends a lot. It was good because I could do my own thing when she wasn’t around.” [smile mischievously] “Where’s your boyfriend?” Ignore her answer and plow.

  • Question her independence and plow

Reply: “You’d better give him a call and tell him you’re not doing anything bad. Some guys worry.” Turbocharged plow!

***

Which one of the above countermoves is most effective? I don’t know. I’ve used all of them with some success. The key is to pay attention to the point in the conversation when she ejaculates the ‘I have a boyfriend’ line. If she says it right away before you’ve gotten two words out of your mouth, it is most likely not a shit test to determine your fuckworthiness. She either doesn’t like the cut of your beta jibe and is letting you down quickly and easily, or she really does have a boyfriend and is being a woman with integrity by letting you know this up front before you have wasted precious minutes futilely gaming her.

On the other hand, if she talks with you for a while before saying it, and she has dropped a few IOIs your way, there is a good chance it is an artificial hurdle. She either has a (rapidly fading) boyfriend and is open to being properly seduced by you, or she doesn’t have a boyfriend and her saying it is just a crude shit test because she’s a woman of low character and social retardation. Either way, you should plow as if her boyfriend objection is meaningless, because it is. The third possibility, and the most dangerous female ploy, is the one I wrote about yesterday: She has a boyfriend she is not going to cheat on, but omits this vital information so she can delight in the ego stroking you give her with your flirty attention. The only way to avoid timesucks like this is to preempt the boyfriend excuse, as explained above. The problem with preemption is that it risks setting an anti-seduction tone. Luckily, I’ve found that it’s a minority of taken women who will deliberately string men along for the attention.

How will you know if she’s open to being seduced away from an imaginary (or not) boyfriend, or if she’s just using you for validation? The answer is in her facial expression. As with the girl I wrote about yesterday, a woman who looks clearly apologetic when she drops the boyfriend bomb and turns rapidly cold after saying it is an attention whore. A user of the good feelings you gave her for twenty minutes. But, if she is still engaged with you after mentioning her boyfriend, and her flirty demeanor hasn’t let up at all, you can safely assume the BF excuse is just that… an excuse. Be sure to verify her continued interest by moving her to a quiet part of the bar. This is critical. A girl in a relationship who has no intention of screwing around on her boyfriend will not follow you to a different location, no matter how good your game or how much she likes you or how few feet away is the new spot. The venue change/location move is a reliable test for smoking out the user whores.

Used

Three girls, two guys. One of the guys was obviously gay. (hellOOOO) He had gay face. The girl closest to me, a blonde with a wholesome midwestern look, strokes my jacket sleeve.

“I like the way your jacket feels.”

“Any excuse to cop a feel, eh?”

“What’s it made of?”

“Silkworm. It’s very rare.” I scan the group trying to figure out the social dynamic. One girl was talking to the (presumably) straight guy in intense, eyes locked conversation. She would not cockblock. Another girl was glancing expectantly around the room, perhaps waiting for a boyfriend? She was a cockblock threat. The gay guy was a fat black man playing the role of the mother hen. He was a high risk cockblock.

I address the gay first. “Is your friend here always like this? Touching random stranger’s jackets?”

“Don’t we all!” (Boy, do I know how to call it). “She’s a sweetheart. Isn’t that right, Katy?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want him to think.” She winks at me. The gay turns away and begins sipping his drink through a straw loudly, exaggerating the purse of his lips. He would no longer be a threat. She must have signaled him. I missed the signal. Too subtle.

I talk with Katy for ten minutes before remembering to check her single status. Gotta be smooth when screening for BFs. “How do you know everyone here?”

She gives me the rundown. The other guy is the BF of the girl talking to him. I lean in a little closer to her ear.

“Your friend here,” I motion toward her single friend craning her neck and searching the room, “looks like she’s waiting patiently for someone.”

“Yeah, her boyfriend is coming.”

I lean back and let a few seconds pass. She smiles at me. Ok, I was in the clear. Katy was the odd girl out. Fresh unspoiled meat.

We talk for a half hour. My game is not the sharpest it’s been, in fact I’m a little bit sloppy, but she eats it up like a hungry she-wolf. In hindsight, her extremely positive reaction to my less than stellar game should have been a red flag, but I carried on as if the number close, or even the same night bang, was inevitable. As evidenced by all the arm touching and flicking of hair, she responds very well. Time for a calculated reposition.

“Hey, looks like your friends are pretty busy having fun in their own world. There’s an empty space just over there where we can sit and be a little more comfortable. Let’s move.”

Her smile goes crooked. “Well… I’m waiting for my boyfriend. He’s coming here, too.” She shrugs her shoulders and raises her eyebrows apologetically.

BEEEEEYOTCH.

I stare at her with steely eyes until she gets slightly uncomfortable. I am not smiling at all. I want her to notice my displeasure. I think about calling her out in the manner of Roosh’s campaign to call out cockblocks and shame them in public. Perhaps say something like “I didn’t think you’d be the type of girl to conveniently forget to mention your boyfriend just for attention from other guys. I wonder what he would think of that?”

Instead, I held my tongue and simply gave her the backturn. She didn’t attempt to re-engage. She knew she had committed a grievous lie of omission and the jig was up.

I was used. Emotional rape. She had exacted her tribute — a half hour of my valuable time and energy that could have been better spent on available women. Mission accomplished: Ego validated.

Thinking back, I see a pattern. Girls with boyfriends are often the happiest girls to be the target of my game. They are bored; they need that constant revalidation of their desirability to new men. They may or may not be in love with their boyfriends, it doesn’t seem to matter much. The need for male attention is an addiction that never really goes away, even when they’re 70 and the young man tells them how fetching their blue hair is. Only girls who are deeply in love are granted temporary immunity from the urge to whore attention. This phase usually lasts about 6 months. Two years tops.

Soulmates who never need validation from anyone else but each other are as rare as pink diamonds. If you are in this type of relationship, count your blessings. You have won the quality girl lottery.

Later, I chastised myself for not getting her to cough up the BF information sooner.

Alpha Move Of The Day

The Forearm Grab

You’re holding court with three girls. You’re feeling good, on top of your game, and you’ve nailed the perfect stance — standing with your back against the bar surveying your kingdom. The words and the smirks are coming naturally. You know the whole place is watching, intrigued by your social mastery. Five minutes, ten, twenty… you’re not really sure how much time has passed. Your main target’s two friends say they are going to another bar. She shrugs her shoulders at you, smiling, and says she’s going to go with them.

You know this is an IOI to at least grab her contact info. Instead, you reply “You’re a cool chick. Have fun with your friends.” As she turns away and begins to walk off, you grab her forearm firmly and say “Hey”. She spins around, looking at you with a mix of surprise and desire. Her two friends have walked ahead of her. “You’re interesting. Let’s meet sometime. I’ll need your number.” Insta-close.

***

Why this works:

The rollercoaster concept. Girls love oscillating from high to low to high again. She was waiting for you to lunge for her number when she said she had to leave. You denied her that. Unpredictability. Disappointed, she prepared to leave. Then, you grabbed her arm like a mighty godlike hand from the heavens and denied her the disappointment as well.

The hard physical contact. Your grab was firm, fingers wrapped all the way around. This was no time for the light touch. The occasional unapologetically hard and bold kino is one of the purist demonstrations of alphaness. Done at the right time, it will shatter female defenses.

The non-neediness. You almost let her get away. And yet you seemed preternaturally calm about having nearly lost her to the crowd. She was left with the impression that you had no plan to get her number, but changed your mind at the last second. You’re different than every other guy.

Give it a shot.

I had a conversation with a girl who described how she was trapped in the hell matrix of shopping for a bridesmaid dress. Here is her dispatch from the frontlines.

HER: I had to go bridesmaid dress shopping on Saturday. If you thought the baby shower was gayer than gay, you have no idea.

ME: haha. Was it you and the girls?

HER: There were overbearing eastern european megalomaniac high pressure saleswomen. The fattest brides I’ve ever seen. And one woman in a halter wedding gown (white) who was at least pushing 65.

ME: Wow. What gift do you get the blushing bride who has 65 years worth of accumulated stuff?

HER: The saleslady suggested she wear a cape for modesty’s sake. But she adamantly refused and kept parading around haughtily while her withered groomsman, 20 years her junior at least, slumped in the corner with his coffee cup. It was a depressing scene to be sure.

ME: A beaten man. Barely alive.

HER: I tried on like one dress and said “K. Good to go. Let’s just take this one.” But no, they want you to pore over every last detail, photograph them all, revisit the choices. For 3 hours.

ME: Psychotic!

HER: My mom came in to get a mother of the groom dress, and sort of sighed heavily. She’s like “What color will you wear?” “Black.” “Emily!!” “What? I can wear it again for any occasion. Bar mitzvahs… funerals…”. Megan (the bride-to-be) instead settled on a putrid shade of mocha. We’ll look like gussied up turds. Turd cakes.

ME: The minister will be Mr. Hanky. Howdy ho everybody!

HER: It’s just a sea of color swatches and taffeta and a sense of crushing defeat. Not to mention the pitying looks at the bridesmaids for not having “made it”. Always a bridesmaid. Just like the damn Swedes at the world junior hockey championships. The room was pepto-bismol pink. Like being in a turbulent stomach. And she still couldn’t find a dress! So we get to do it all over again! Wheeee!!!! SHOOT ME.

ME: It’s exactly the nightmare most men imagine it to be.

Schooling The Haters

There are a lot of misconceptions held by haters (and some non-haters) of the game and of yours truly that deserve closer examination.

Obsidian writes in response to a pickup scenario with a sultry game-playing chick I recounted:

Such a girl as described, would come off to me that she would not be satisfactory for potential Mommy material. On top of that she was just plain weird.

[…]His intentions are quite clear-to fuck, usually but not always, in pump & dump fashion-as many Women as possible. To that extent then, his selection criteria, is considerably different from mine, and I see nothing in the least wrong with that.

[…]some of the Game moves one would use to attempt to bed the gal in his scenario, would be wholly different in the kind of Game I used wrt say, Brown Sugah, whom I’ve mentioned before.

It’s amusing how writing in a certain style will lead people to induce the substance of what you write. In fact, I have rarely if ever written on this blog that my intentions are to pump and dump as many women as possible, unless it was in a humorous context. I have described the reality of women. I have given pointers on how to pump and dump if that’s your goal. I have singled out a certain type of woman for pump and dump status. But none of that reflects what I personally value in my own relationships with women. Of course, it is a weakness of human nature to imagine the most antagonistic motives of another person if what that person says is not thematically consistent with the narrative playing out in one’s head.

When I have written about my value system I have been quite clear — a relationship with a woman who loves you is one of the sublime pleasures of life, perhaps the very best pleasure, and the occasional fling or one night stand is pretty good too. It does not make sense, given the short time we have our lives on this earth, to pass up opportunities to make love with women, even to fuck them silly, if the woman does not pass your stringent criteria as LTR material. So yes, one night stands with scheming game-playing chicks and long term passionate relationships with quality women are not morally incompatible in my worldview. Only those whose options are limited (Hi TBG!) subscribe to those sorts of self-serving sociosexual codes.

As for Obsidian’s contention that the game used on weird chicks such as the girl in my post is different from the game used on the kind of women Obsidian is interested in meeting (presumably, marriage material), I call bullshit. Game, like a woman’s looks, is not cookie cutter, but neither is it completely random in its effect. The fundamental concepts of game are universal and apply equally to all kinds of women, from Rules Girls to club sluts to church angels to playettes to rebounders to Georgetown yuppies to SWPLers to haughty hipsters to young to old… and even to lawyer chicks. If it were not so, there would be no such thing as “game”. Think about it.

Superhater Keith, the Alpha-iest of Alphas wrote:

Yes, but [the girls who respond positively to his game] still resemble one another in otherwise unobserved traits that correlate with their tendency to give you their number in the first place.

This is a common anti-game argument pulled with insipid frequency from the hater handbook. Alternate version: “You’ll only pick up sluts and low self esteem girls who fall for your game.” Haters of this school of hate comfort themselves with the lie that no worthy girl would ever fall for a player. As I fatherly corrected Stupendously Alpha Keith in the comments: Tautology, unreel thyself.

Super Alpha Keith reminds me of those cloying beta chumps who have spent many years of indoctrination in a seven sisters school, imbibing the feminist zeitgeist with gusto and learning to parrot all the right shibboleths in order to steal a thin-lipped kiss from some hippie chick with Daddy Gaia issues. There is of course no specific type of chick who falls for game, because there aren’t different sets of rules that govern female attraction. Game is unlimited in its potential because the male traits that women find attractive are universally shared, give or take some nontrivial broad racial differences. The tautological emptiness of Keith’s two minute hate becomes apparent when we switch genders — women with slender hourglass figures, nice tits and ass, and pretty faces don’t attract a subset of men who resemble one another in unobserved traits that correlate with their tendency to be attracted to pretty women; they attract the *vast majority* of men because female beauty, like male game, is objectively attractive to the opposite sex.

poster asked:

you never talked about how to game cigstach…i’m really curious about what you were going to say

Skip attraction and go straight into comfort building rapport. Tell her you both have a lot in common — the ability to grow thick, bushy mustaches. Share a cig, then go for the kiss, licking the corners of her stache into a handlebar shape with your saliva. Repeat until the love is strong.

omw wrote:

Breaking [game] down into official sub-categories with accompanying routines and choreography is what’s weird.

It’s only weird when you’re aware of it.  😉

Many, many haters wrote:

It’s important to be sincere in a serious relationship. Which you can’t do with game.

I’ll quote commenter Thursday on this:

“Game is necessary for a relationship because attraction is necessary for a relationship and game is what creates attraction for women.  But it is not sufficient and no one ever said it was.”

I’d add that a softened version of game is an important component of any long term relationship. And the belief that game is insincere? Just the opposite. Game is the most effective way for a man to express his deepest sincere feelings for a woman. A man has to advertise his sincere desires. If he doesn’t, women will hardly know the value of his product or the strength of his feelings. And the wrong sort of advertising will send her to another store.

Lisa the typical female hater wrote in response to me:

“a man seen with “bar skanks” as you call them will be more attractive to women than a man with no woman at his side.”

Only to other bar skanks.

A fairly common anti-poon diatribe is the “like begets like” argument. This is how haters attempt to diminish the achievements of their targets of hate. They reside well above that muck, don’t you see. As with most hate, it strikes a superficially plausible note, but in reality is proven utterly false.

I have observed that women’s preselection programming is a blunt algorithm. That is, when a woman sees you with another woman, she does not filter your quality based on your companion’s beauty as perceptively as a man filters for female beauty. You have some wiggle room in your choice of social proof. If you’re in the company of a 5, the power of preselection will work all the way up to 8s, as long as you are seen to be having a good time with your 5. To other women, the fact that you make your pawn female companion smile and laugh is more important in evaluating your quality as a man than is the exact beauty rating of your companion.

Naturally, there are limits on the applicability of women’s preselection mechanism. If your social proof is an obese 2, 10s will not give you much favor. Women are subconsciously much less forgiving of blubber on other women than they are of the prettiness or lack thereof of other women’s faces. A slender 4 with good fashion sense and obvious enjoyment at being in your company will trigger the preselection switches of plenty of hotter women in a bar.

Androgyne MQ wrote:

However, these [beta providers] do not spend all their time whining and bitching on the internet (at least not when they’re young, if they get wiped out in a divorce settlement later on then they do).

Handy betaboy translation: “Whining and bitching” = “Saying stuff that offends my tender sensibilities”.

MQ is Dizzy’s love beta.

Whiskey wrote:

How can MOST GUYS be socially dominant? Answer: they CANNOT BY DEFINITION. Period. Social dominance is like an episode of Highlander. There can be only one. And that one is what women want. Therefore, every guy with the ability to figure this out will race to social dominance. Which ends inevitably in thuggery because that is how social dominance gets settled in the end.

And over on 2Blowhards where they are having freewheeling discussions about the cultural significance of game, Rain And wrote:

PUAs recommend a massive amount of approaches to learn Game.. something like 20 per week, per man.. and this will have two effects:: It means more otherwise unmated women will be absorbed.. leaving less available women for the lucky opportunities which non-competing males depend on.. and it means women will endure more unwelcome approaches and further harden their defenses against approaches from unskilled men, raising the bar for his entry into the field. If it was hard for a below average guy just going by his natural instincts in opportunistic situations before, it will become even harder for him now.

As for men who do compete, it’s worse for them too. It’s an arms race, and if everybody gets better, than no one has more success. In fact every one is worse off, because they now have to work harder and train more to master a skill to get the same exact returns they would have gotten 10 years ago without the extra time, energy, resources spent on Game.

Whiskey and Rain And make the claim that game is a finite resource, zero-sum, and effective only in relation to the existing male status hierarchy because women ultimately want to bang the top male no matter what system he operates within. This therefore means that the returns on game are inherently self-limiting, as women will simply choose amongst the best gamers in a world full of men who have learned game.

It’s an interesting theoretical conjecture. I say theoretical because the adoption by men of game will never, in practice, reach the point where such theoretical objections carry real world weight. Game requires one necessary ingredient in abundance — balls. And most men simply don’t have the balls to (1) drop their defeatist beliefs and adherence to doctrinaire acquired wisdom and (2) take up the teachings of game and actually approach women in any situation at any time.

But is this zero-sum objection even correct in theory? I believe a case can be made that it is not, and the best way to demonstrate this is through illustration by analogy. Imagine if all the world’s women suddenly turned into 10s overnight. Ask yourselves: Would this

a. increase

b. decrease

c. have no effect on

the aggregate happiness of the world’s men? Does anyone seriously doubt this would not be a paradisiacal wonderland for men everywhere? This is because women’s beauty, at least over the timespan of a few generations before long term evolutionary change had a chance to alter the male mental landscape, is an objectively definable trait in which its supply would increase if the number of 10s increased. Only over the very long haul would men’s preferences gradually shift upward in refinement toward uber 10s — new female creatures would then be born representing 11s, 12s, and super ovarian 20s.

In the same way, this is how game works its magic on women. Male game operates like female beauty. The more of it there is in the world, the happier the world’s women will become. Women will feel the same pleasurable feelings from the first man she meets running tight game and the 1,000th man she meets running tight game. Since women are by nature status whores, over a long enough time as evolution molds their daughters’ brains they will begin to preferentially select the best gamers from among the bunch. And they will go on, as they always have, attempting to land the highest ranking man they can afford given their looks, which means seeking the man who brings the full suite of attractive male power attributes to the table.

Random Musing Of The Day

Why is it the biggest engagement rings are always found on the hands of women over 30? Who are these beta schmoes spending a fortune on rings for women with only a few years of primo fuckability left?

Discuss.

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