Beta Bait is an important game concept first elucidated here at CH. Beta Bait is a psy ops gambit deployed by women to “trap” men into doing or saying something that indicates a beta male mentality (i.e., a scarcity mentality). It’s basically a male status ascertainment algorithm.

Beta Bait is similar to the classic shit test, but with notable distinctions.

Shit tests occur with the most regularity and intensity during early game, and at times when the relationship is on the skids. They are normally loaded up front to help the girl quickly take the measure of your alphaness. Beta bait happens at any time while dating a girl, (or even when not dating a girl, say, while languishing in her orbit as a sex-denied friendzone chump), and are spread out evenly in a relationship as a sort of low level boyfriend diagnosis script.

Shit tests are more obvious than beta bait, and thus easier to pass for men with excellent awareness of female hypergamy tactics. A shit test can be quite bold and shocking to newb ears and thus scare off lesser men, but the inveterate player always operates with the frame that shit tests and other assorted confusing and bitchy female behavior are an opportunity rather than an obstacle to demonstrate his mate value. A girl who is giving you shit is a hell of a lot closer to sex with you than a girl who is indifferent to your existence.

Of the two, beta bait is by far more dangerous than shit tests. If you fail a shit test, you move on to the next girl within your field of view. Your pain is over quickly and time is saved for mining new whore. But beta bait is subtler and more insidious; you may not even recognize you’re being baited until she’s screaming “HALF!” and the kid suddenly doesn’t look like you anymore.

In short, shit tests are what women do when they feel attracted to you and don’t know how to properly deal with their growing feelings of desire. Beta bait is what women do when they are feeling LESS attracted to you (or not attracted at all), and are actively seeking ways to verify that you are indeed the beta male they love to loathe and despise.

It’s a crucial distinction, because beta bait tends to sneak up on a man and slowly erode his self-confidence and his all-important alpha male status, while shit tests are direct and thus, theoretically at least, instantly manageable.

So we come to what I regard as one of the three most invidious, and frequently encountered, beta bait schemes women love to surprise buttsecks on men.

The first two beta bait evil schemes are:

1. Incongruent sex talk.

If a girl broaches sexual topics too soon, and with a cocky air of bawdiness, it could be beta bait. A beta male will practically glow with excitement and curiosity when a girl he likes sexually supercharges their conversation. If this is you, DON’T TAKE THE BAIT. A little push-off now goes a long way toward a lot of pull-in later.

2. Fishing for flattery.

Beware girls fishing for flattery. If you give it to them, they will not come.

Which brings us to the topic of this post:

Beta Bait Scheme #3: The “Bad Boyfriend” Ploy.

The BBP is beta bait for the long haul. This is the kind of “smoke out the beta male” game that women will play for months and years, if they feel it necessary.

You’ll know it’s happening when your woman nags you about being a better boyfriend. Often, the form it takes is a woman acting irate about her boyfriend “cheating in his heart”, or not investing enough in the relationship, or just generally failing her outrageous expectations in one or multiple ways.

Here be the rub. She doesn’t actually think you’re a bad boyfriend. She thinks you’re a beta boyfriend. So her BBP dramafest is really a self-gratifying acting class to alleviate her guilt for feeling bored and out of love and wanting to break up. Naturally, most beta boyfriends will take this as a serious charge against their character, and work overtime to appease their nagging girlfriends, which will only make their women despise them more.

The right and proper response to a BBP attack is amused dismissiveness, seasoned with a bit of the ol’ dread game. Remember, if you really are a bad boyfriend (aka an alpha male with unfulfilled options), your girlfriend won’t react to that by nagging you; instead, she’ll react by trying harder HERSELF to please YOU. Plush quislings get nagged. Bad boyfriends get hot sex because their women hope that’ll soften them a little.

Animatronic host society leech Bryan Caplan took a break from spreading the ass cheeks of his nation to report on GSS survey data indicating that monogamy remains the norm among Americans.

The problem with sex surveys of this sort — i.e., the kind that ask in no uncertain terms just how slutty (women) or charming (men) you are — is that people lie. They lie to assuage their egos, and they lie to meet social expectations. And lo and behold, there are attenuating studies which discredit to some extent the reported results of sex surveys. This one, for instance, found that:

Men report more permissive sexual attitudes and behavior than do women. This experiment tested whether these differences might result from false accommodation to gender norms (distorted reporting consistent with gender stereotypes). Participants completed questionnaires under three conditions. Sex differences in self‐reported sexual behavior were negligible in a bogus pipeline condition in which participants believed lying could be detected, moderate in an anonymous condition, and greatest in an exposure threat condition in which the experimenter could potentially view participants’ responses. This pattern was clearest for behaviors considered less acceptable for women than men (e.g., masturbation, exposure to hardcore & softcore erotica). Results suggest that some sex differences in self‐reported sexual behavior reflect responses influenced by normative expectations for men and women.

Men overstate their number of partners to a small degree, and women understate their number of partners to a large degree.

Two anti-Hivemind (or pro-Red Pill, if you wish) conclusions can be drawn from this very special insight about human nature:

1. On the subject of sex, women are bigger liars than men.

2. There are more slutty women running around in the world than sexually parched betaboys think.

I’d add that, despite the above GrateFacts, it’s a good bet that lower-N count monogamy is still hanging on as the norm among Eurasian peoples. Well, serial monogamy, at any rate.

The Reverse Cockblock

While reading an article at ROK about taking the Grease Pill and letting your hair go native sans shampooing, a tangent by the author, Samseau, grabbed my attention.

Then I went to the men’s room and took a leak. When the girls I came with asked me where I had been, I told them “there was a line” and she asked me if I had any weed, which I did, but the fat friend did a reverse cockblock* out on the street and prevented her from going anywhere else with me. […]

* Reverse Cockblock: “Oh, you know what? Just go home with him. You should go. Have a good time. Just go. I don’t care.” <—- Most effective cockblock line in the world. Even if she goes home with you, she’ll still feel like a slut as soon as you make a move on her and the LMR [ed: last minute resistance] will be insurmountable.

The Reverse Cockblock, or what is more precisely termed the Reverse Psychology Cockblock, is something most men will rarely encounter. I’ve never heard that sort of line from a cockblock, and I’ve had to deal with more than my fair share of spiteful CBs maneuvering to deep-six my romantic fortunes.

The typical cockblock will work her black magic in one of three ways:

1. She’ll pout along the perimeter and look really pathetic, until the hot friend you’re chatting up can’t help but notice her fat friend’s distress. Game over.

2. She’ll bulldoze her way into your conversation, gripping her friend by the arm, and dragging her out the door while shouting about this or that bar they have to go to, and yelling “BYEEEEE” at you through a shit-eating grin as she exits with her quarry helplessly entangled. Game over.

3. She’ll make a complete bitch of herself, executing increasingly labyrinthine and complex shit tests designed to publicly humiliate you until her hot friend becomes disenchanted with your feebleness while under attack. GAME OVER, MAAAN.

There are a vast array of cockblock strategies, but the three above will account for 80% of your CB victimizations. Exceptions abound, but you’ll be well-covered if you know how to handle those three.

But… WOW JUST WOW… the passive-aggressive Reverse Cockblock is quite devious. I’d have to tip my atheist goon fedora to a chubster who successfully pulled off a reverse psychology cockblock on me. Truly evil. What the RCB is doing is essentially activating her hot friend’s ASD (anti-slut defenses) in your stead. She’s co-opted betaboy anti-game and turned it into a girl game victory.

So here are my anti-RCB solutions, should this pure evil alight upon your Valalpha.

- Agree & Amplify

“Oh, you know what? Just go home with him. You should go. Have a good time. Just go. I don’t care.”

“We will, thanks! It’s so nice of you to want the best for your friend. I hope she doesn’t break my heart.”

- Re-Reverse Psychology

“Oh, you know what? Just go home with him. You should go. Have a good time. Just go. I don’t care.”

[to cockblock]: “Don’t worry, I was just about to hand her over to you. You look like more fun anyhow.”

- Jerkboy Ridicule

“Oh, you know what? Just go home with him. You should go. Have a good time. Just go. I don’t care.”

[to CB]: “Don’t feel left out. You can join too.”

- Flay Her Alive

“Oh, you know what? Just go home with him. You should go. Have a good time. Just go. I don’t care.”

[to target, whispering]: “I think your friend needs you right now more than I do.”


I hope this game advice helps more men bed the women they really want to bed, and to have the freedom to choose which among those quality women will be honored with a long-term commitment and eventual progeny.

“Who Bitch This Is?!”

We have a guest post today from dissident humorist/satirist/troll “Duck” (you can follow his Twitter feed @jokeocracy, under the nom de plumage “Duck Enlightenment”). He explores the subversive themes and cultural schisms underlying a gaming communitaaaahh kerfuffle in which many triggers were triggered and micros were aggressed. Begin transmission…

A New Rallying Cry For Men: “Who Bitch This Is?”

During a recent video gaming tournament, one of the competitors, a man known as Shinblade, celebrated a tough win. A particularly dumpy female in attendance took offense to his victory dance, and attempted to physically push him back down into his chair. He resisted, then realized he was being assaulted by a woman and addressed the crowd with four mighty words that shall echo through history: “WHO BITCH THIS IS?”

This man Shinblade is a true American hero.

“Who bitch this is?” is an exhilarating assertion of patriarchal privilege packed into a pithy four word thunderbolt. It manages in just those mere four words to pack so many deep layers of privilege and masculinity it seems almost impossible.

Firstly, “Who bitch this is?” correctly and directly labels the offending female, who has initiated a physical altercation, as a “bitch”. Immediately from just the second word it’s clear the speaker is pulling no punches and refuses to bow to any PC concerns.

Digging a bit deeper, “Who bitch this is?” also explicitly declares that the venue where the words are spoken is a male-centric environment. Any “bitch” present in this place must therefore be the property of another man in attendance, and it is therefore that man’s responsibility to keep her in line.

Even further, “Who bitch this is?” recognizes that there are essential differences between the sexes and that the sexes maintain varying degrees of self-control over their behavior. The speaker does not address his concerns to the “bitch” in question, but ignores her to instead query the wider audience to find the designated male responsible for her behavior. She is therefore explicitly declared not responsible for her own behavior, as it is known in male environments that women are unable to control themselves and hence they are expected to be the responsibility of an attending male.

I believe that “Who bitch this is?” should become a rallying cry for a male generation in the West that has allowed itself to be pushed around by feminist nonsense for far, far too long. Reasonable debate has failed and the feminist establishment refuses to listen to rational concerns about where they are leading our civilization. Direct words need to be spoken, and this man Shinblade has gifted us with these four powerful direct words to show us the way forward.

So the next time some silly cow gets in your face, or puts her hands on you, or accuses you of being sexist: just stay calm and don’t allow yourself to become upset. Maintain your frame, look around, and then in a clear loud voice ask the room one simple and devastating question: “Who Bitch This Is?”


I feel dirty. Still, I laughed. At everyone involved. Because that was one sad spectacle. #GoodbyeAmerica

Reader Experienced Father forwards this passage from Teddy Roosevelt, who in this excerpt reveals amazing powers of observation and prescience (and a serum T level that in one brief moment exceeds Obama’s lifetime gonadal output).


This is from Theodore Roosevelt’s Book “A Book-Lover’s Holidays in the Open”

[T]here is one vital point—the vital point—in which the men and women of these ranch-houses, like those of the South America that I visited generally, are striking examples to us of the English-speaking countries both of North America and Australia. The families are large. The women, charming and attractive, are good and fertile mothers in all classes of society. There are no symptoms of that artificially self-produced dwindling of population which is by far the most threatening symptom in the social life of the United States, Canada, and the Australian commonwealths. The nineteenth century saw a prodigious growth of the English-speaking, relative to the Spanish-speaking, population of the new worlds west of the Atlantic and in the Southern Pacific. The end of the twentieth century will see this completely reversed unless the present ominous tendencies as regards the birth-rate are reversed.

    A race is worthless and contemptible if its men cease to be willing and able to work hard and, at need, to fight hard, and if its women cease to breed freely. I am not speaking of pauper families with excessive numbers of ill-nourished and badly brought up children; I am well aware that, like most wise and good principles, this which I advocate can be carried to a mischievous excess; but it nevertheless remains true that voluntary sterility among married men and women of good life is, even more than military or physical cowardice in the ordinary man, the capital sin of civilization, whether in France or Scandinavia, New England or New Zealand. If the best classes do not reproduce themselves the nation will of course go down; for the real question is encouraging the fit, and discouraging the unfit, to survive. When the ordinary decent man does not understand that to marry the woman he loves, as early as he can, is the most desirable of all goals, the most successful of all forms of life entitled to be called really successful; when the ordinary woman does not understand that all other forms of life are but makeshift and starveling substitutes for the life of the happy wife, the mother of a fair-sized family of healthy children; then the state is rotten at heart.

[ed: here comes the money shot.]
   The loss of a healthy, vigorous, natural sexual instinct is fatal; and just as much so if the loss is by disuse and atrophy as if it is by abuse and perversion. Whether the man, in the exercise of one form of selfishness, leads a life of easy self-indulgence and celibate profligacy; or whether in the exercise of a colder but no less repulsive selfishness, he sacrifices what is highest to some form of mere material achievement in accord with the base proverb that “he travels farthest who travels alone”; or whether the sacrifice is made in the name of the warped and diseased conscience of asceticism; the result is equally evil.
    So, likewise, with the woman. In many modern novels there is portrayed a type of cold, selfish, sexless woman who plumes herself on being “respectable,” but who is really a rather less desirable member of society than a prostitute. Unfortunately the portrayal is true to life. The woman who shrinks from motherhood is as low a creature as a man of the professional pacificist, or poltroon, type, who shirks his duty as a soldier.
    The only full life for man or woman is led by those men and women who together, with hearts both gentle and valiant, face lives of love and duty, who see their children rise up to call them blessed and who leave behind them their seed to inherit the earth. Dealing with averages, it is the bare truth to say that no celibate life approaches such a life in point of usefulness, no matter what the motive for the celibacy—religious, philanthropic, political, or professional.
    The mother comes ahead of the nun—and also of the settlement or hospital worker; and if either man or woman must treat a profession as a substitute for, instead of as an addition to or basis for, marriage, then by all means the profession or other “career” should be abandoned. It is of course not possible to lay down universal rules. There must be exceptions. But the rule must be as above given. In a community which is at peace there may be a few women or a few men who for good reasons do not marry, and who do excellent work nevertheless; just as in a community which is at war, there may be a few men who for good reasons do not go out as soldiers. But if the average woman does not marry and become the mother of enough healthy children to permit the increase of the race; and if the average man does not, above all other things, wish to marry in time of peace, and to do his full duty in war if the need arises, then the race is decadent, and should be swept aside to make room for one that is better. Only that nation has a future whose sons and daughters recognize and obey the primary laws of their racial being.


Careerist gogrrls, like their dopplegangers, cowardly manlets, are an affront to human dignity.

They don’t make’ em like Teddy anymore. Which is horrible timing, because if ever the West needed more Teddies, it is now. And I say this as someone who possesses the strongest possible fornicative urge hitched to the weakest possible procreative urge. Yareally gotta look at the big picture.

Exhibit Audi:

I’m not surprised by this welcome turn to the masculine side. It is inevitable that as Western society becomes in practice more womanly, the rebellious, unquenchable spirit of boys and men would find renewed purpose pushing back against the zeitshrike of the age. I predict far fewer “goofball dad” commercials in the near future, and far more “dark triad rule breaker” commercials that make high T feminists swoon with a lethally dissonant combination of butthurt rage and muffpert craze.

Commenter Meet Isolate Escalate has a game question dealing with preselection.

Has anyone ever purposefully met up with a good looking girl to demonstrate value to someone (another potential) he knows will be present?

Yes, but then what usually happens is a redirection of my attention to the good-looking girl I’m using as a prop. The burdens of being a man!

I can easily pull this off in such a manner that not only am I meeting with a hottie (flaky one from the past that I barely trust) just to see what she says, but I can double it up with social value on a much younger girl. Is there a caution or precaution that I must take with this situation?

Studies have consistently shown that female preselection makes a man more attractive to women. The inverse is not true. (Other men are not more attracted to the homely girlfriends or wives of high status men.)

Therefore, preselection is a valuable weapon in a man’s arsenal of seduction. When you can leverage it, do so.

The rules of the preselection game are simple.

1. Be seen with high SMV (sexual market value) girls, preferably younger hotter tighter than your designated target(s).

2. Be opaque about your female company’s relationship with you.

3. Know when to discharge your preselection pawn for your primary lust interest.

4. Don’t be obvious about it.

Rule number 1 is the most fluid. If your targets are typically 2s (waysa?), then your PPs (preselection pawns) needn’t be hotties. You can achieve the same effect with 3s on your arm. Preselection even works with PPs who are equally attractive (or unattractive) as your targets. The only scenario where PP won’t work, (and in fact you’ll hurt your chances more than if you had gone out alone), is when your PP is much uglier than your targets. Don’t expect to raise many inquisitive hottie eyebrows with a fat chick by your sides.

(The use of the word “target” is designed to infuriate those tradcon readers who bristle at the efficient reduction of women into jargony set pieces.)

Rule number 2 is easy enough. When asked, allude to your PP as “a very close friend”. Leave it at that. If pressed, strike a pose of indignation. “Are we playing the 20 Questions game already?” If pressed further, accuse her of jealousy. Congratulations, you are now officially being chased by a woman. Life just got a lot easier.

Rule number 3 is the most difficult to master. You should have established nonverbal cues with your PP to notify her when it’s time she makes a graceful exit. Don’t be afraid of coaching a PP on what to say (chicks love this sort of manufactured matchmaker drama). Have her leave you with flourish. I like to have PPs call me by a nickname flush with sexual innuendo, so that the girl I’m with has a reason to ask what it means. For example:

PP: “See you around, Golden God.”

Girl: “Why did she call you Golden God?”

The Sexorcist: “Who knows. Gratitude?”

Naturally, there will be times (most times, if experience tells) when your PP will be in the dark about your true intention to utilize her as a walking pheromone for attracting other women. If you have invited your PP under false pretexts, then Rule 3 won’t be a cooperative venture; you’ll be on your own taking the initiative to dismiss yourself from your PP’s company so that you can spend quality time with your target.

WARNING: If your PP harbors an unresolved desire for you, perfunctorily dismissing her to be with another woman carries the risk of one, two or all combatants making a scene. A scene can work in your favor, but not if you’re a beta newb. I have seen betas chew off more drama than they can digest, and the results are hilarious. “Stampeded underfoot” is a term that comes to mind.

Anyhow, the proper method for extracting yourself from your duped PP’s company is… slip out the back.

Not really kidding. This will work. Once. After that, your PP may be reticent to go out with you.

So, an exit with the long view in mind:

Get cozy with your target. Touch, smile, gaze. Any PP who previously accompanied you and who isn’t a social cripple will catch the flirty signals and leave you two alone. If you feel bad about abandoning your PP, use her impending discomfort as an opportunity to swap numbers with your target and leave her wanting more, providing the handy excuse that your “friend” has to be someplace else and you promised to go with her.

(FYI, PPs can also be on-the-fly, which is a worthy topic best left for another post.)

Rule number 4 is the most important rule to get right. If it’s apparent to everyone with a woman’s IQ that you’re really interested in some other girl than the one you have with you, the ruse will falter. You’ve got to at least put up a decent front that your hottie pawn is with you not as a courtesy, but as a mysterious friend who may or may not be your lover. If your pawn bolts as soon as she sees some other dude, or you dump her at the first sight of your target, the game is likely to unravel. Play the full board. This is a marathon through very scenic countryside, not a foot race through the red light district.

I hope this helps, young Pantywan. May the pudendum rise to meet you, may your thrust be ever at her crack.


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