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Cutter Lover

July 15, 2011 by Heartiste

We were laying down side by side on her bed mid-afternoon. It was muggy in her small and untidy bedroom because her window unit A/C wasn’t working properly. She was naked and I was resting my left hand on her mons pubis, as if it were the lacquered mahogany end of an arm rest. This was the first time she exhibited her naked body to me under the shadowless light of daytime. Every dimple and flaw she no doubt imbued with outsized importance was freely visible to my appreciative eyes. Before this moment, sex was a nighttime activity only.

As we lied on the bed staring at the ceiling and her collection of carved giraffes on her bookshelf, my hand wandered down her thigh. A geometric pattern of tiny raised obstacles tickled my palm. I looked over at her leg where my hand was perched and saw three thin reddish-purple lines, barely a millimeter in width but each more than three inches long, carved into the flank of her thigh and hip like claw marks from the angry swipe of a cat.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, these?”

“Yep. It looks like a cat got you.”

She steadied her gaze and paused, an odd hesitation that told me she was quickly weighing the options of lying or telling the truth. “I… they’re cut marks.”

“Cut marks?”

“Not from anything. I did them to myself.”

“You cut yourself? With a razor blade?”

“Yeah, I use a blade from my leg razor.”

“Oookay.” I moved my hand away and focused on her slim vulva and then her face. “That’s strange. Why?”

“It helps when I’m feeling crappy. I get into these moods, and the only way I can feel better is by cutting myself.”

“So hurting yourself makes you feel better.”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy. Don’t be a judgy jerk about this.”

“It is crazy. Why not try running to lift your mood? Or alcohol? It won’t leave scars.”

“There are no scars. I make sure not to do it too deep to leave a scar.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“No, just you. Although my mom once saw the marks and I lied to her about them.”

I fingered the congealed blood of the narrow cuts. “You do them on parts of your body that won’t normally be seen in public.”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve been doing this a long time?”

“Since ninth grade.”

“Are you depressed?”

“You know I get depressed sometimes.” She waved a hand at her superficial wounds. “This helps me cope.”

“We need to find you a new coping mechanism. I like your skin to stay silky smooth.”

I never talked about the cutting with her again. Fact is, it didn’t much bother me. We were together for another nine months or so, and the sex was always hot. She was up for it anywhere, anytime. Like me, she especially liked doing it in front of mirrors. She had an incredibly high libido even for a crazy chick. I briefly wondered if it was the inherent drama in our relationship and my flirtatious ways with other women which caused her to cut, but she never did it again while we were together, as far as I could tell. (The possibility exists she found a harder-to-locate patch of land somewhere in the nooks of her body to hide her cutting from me. But I’m pretty thorough when it comes to exploring the savannah of a lover’s body.) I believed her when she said she cut to feel better. As a man, I can understand the impulse. We men often relish the pain of crunching blows from fights or sports or body blows from self-discovery adventures gone awry. Testosterone makes us men want to feel life for all it’s worth, and there’s no better mental stimulant than the physical stimulants of pain and sex.

But not too much pain. We’ve got our pretty boy faces to keep in mind.

Pain takes us men out of our minds, away from debilitating introspection and toward living in the moment. Maybe for some women, pain from cutting performs a similar psychological analgesic for them, taking them away from worries and stress and into their exquisite bodies where their truest womanhood resides.

***

Do women, then, cut because of negative emotions filling their hearts? A study states it is so, drawing relevance with ancient religious practices of self-flagellation to cleanse the soul of impurities.

Psychological scientist Brock Bastian of the University of Queensland, Australia and his colleagues recruited a group of young men and women under the guise they were part of a study of mental and physical acuity. Under this pretense, they asked them to write short essays about a time in their lives when they had ostracized someone; this memory of being unkind was intended to prime their personal sense of immorality—and make them feel guilty. A control group merely wrote about a routine event in their lives.

Afterward, the scientists told some of the volunteers—both “immoral” volunteers and controls—to stick their hand into a bucket of ice water and keep it there as long as they could. Others did the same, only with a soothing bucket of warm water. Finally, all the volunteers rated the pain they had just experienced—if any—and they completed an emotional inventory that included feelings of guilt.

The idea was to see if immoral thinking caused the volunteers to subject themselves to more pain, and if this pain did indeed alleviate their resulting feelings of guilt. And that’s exactly what the researchers found. Those who were primed to think of their own unethical nature not only kept their hands in the ice bath longer, they also rated the experience as more painful than did controls. What’s more, experiencing pain did reduce these volunteers’ feelings of guilt—more than the comparable but painless experience with warm water.

According to the scientists, although we think of pain as purely physical in nature, in fact we imbue the unpleasant sensation with meaning. Humans have been socialized over ages to think of pain in terms of justice. We equate it with punishment, and as the experimental results suggest, the experience has the psychological effect of rebalancing the scales of justice—and therefore resolving guilt.

Guilt is one emotion that can be absolved by the self-administration of pain. I wouldn’t be surprised if pain lessened the burden of other negative emotions as well. My cutter lover may have felt guilt about spending the best years of her life with a man who gave no hint of driving the relationship toward a marital resolution, and being unable to extricate herself because of her attachment to me. Or she may have just been a naturally depressive person, inherited from some long ago depressed ancestor, and cutting was her cheap Prozac.

The most important lesson I took away from that relationship was that cutters are a great lay. I now look for the telltale signs on all first dates. If the cuts are on her face, I know she’ll be wearing no panties underneath her skirt and will be ready to fuck in an alleyway before we’re even halfway home.

Posted in Girls, Ridiculousness, The Id Monster | 69 Comments »

The Folly Before The Fall

July 15, 2011 by Heartiste

Posted in Goodbye America, Ridiculousness | 187 Comments »

Women Prefer Dominant Men. You Don’t Say!

July 14, 2011 by Heartiste

Straight from the laboratory, yet another study confirms a core game concept (namely, the concept of demonstrating higher value than the woman you are trying to seduce):

Why do men seek status? Fitness payoffs to dominance and prestige.

In many human societies, high male social status associates with higher fertility, but the means by which status increases lifetime fitness have not been systematically investigated. We analyse the pathways by which male status begets reproductive success in a small-scale, Amerindian society. Men who are more likely to win a dyadic physical confrontation, i.e. dominant men, have higher intra-marital fertility for their age, and men with more community-wide influence, i.e. prestigious men, exhibit both higher intra-marital fertility and lower offspring mortality. Both forms of status elicit support from allies and deference from competitors, but high status men are not provisioned more than their peers. Prestigious but not dominant men marry wives who first give birth at earlier ages, which multivariate analysis suggests is the strongest pathway between status and fitness in this population. Furthermore, men are motivated to pursue status because of fitness gains both within and outside of marital unions: dominant and prestigious men have more in-pair surviving offspring as well as more extra-marital affairs.

Chicks dig male power, and power is a catch-all word encompassing the variety of dominance displaying avenues that men pursue to attract women. Large men who can beat other men in fights are dominant. Captains of industry are dominant. Men who demonstrate artistic talent that wins accolades from others are dominant. Musicians who wow audiences are dominant. Preachers who captivate whole congregations are dominant. Men with enough social savvy to win friends and influence people are dominant. Men who are deferred to for their expertise are dominant.

And, yes, men who can seduce by displaying the characteristics of dominant men are irresistibly sexy to women.

In game, many factors contribute to dominance displaying. The oft-misunderstood neg is best seen as a tool to rapidly express male dominance by switching the approval seeking algorithm from the man to the woman. DHVs (demonstrations of higher value) are subtly embedded assertions within a conversational framework that suggestively influence a woman to believe the man she is talking with is a dominant alpha male. Compliance tests (eg: getting a woman to hold your hat for you while you go to the bathroom) are displays of dominance that rely on the natural human instinct to perceive those in whom we have invested our time and attention as high status people. (After all, who in their right mind would spend energy on a low status person? Right?) Flirty teasing is a form of dominance in that the use of it implies you are so high status that you don’t care if your teasing offends and turns a girl off.

Men who lack dominance do the opposite of all the game tactics described in the above paragraph. They are self-deprecating and loath to assert themselves or hint at their accomplishments. They will never neg, preferring instead to compliment women. They will never ask a woman they’ve just met to do anything for them. And they drone, instead of tease. So if you find yourself acting like a low status man, stop, and immediately force yourself to do the opposite. Think of Opposite George. It’s funny ’cause it’s true.

Girls are subconsciously hard-wired to respond with sexual interest to men of higher value than themselves, and to men of higher value than other men in their milieu. In other words, women are attracted to dominant men, and dominance is relative to social conditions. A penniless singer in a crappy indie band can get as much play as a high-powered lawyer, because their social circles are distinct and they don’t directly compete, either man to man or by proxy through the girls who follow them around. A janitor who has better game than a stockbroker will take the girl home more often because his skill at instantly communicating his dominance trumps the broker’s higher occupational status in any venue outside of the office environment or expensive restaurants where the broker’s fatter income really shines.

Dominance that results in gina tingles can be achieved through two strategies. Dominance over other men (DoM) or dominance over women (DoF). There is much overlap between these strategies, though the overlap tends to go in the direction from DoM ==> DoF. That is, men who are dominant over other men are usually dominant over women, while men who show dominance over women (think of every smooth-talking seducer in the literary classics) are a little less likely to be dominant over other men, though still more likely than the average beta bear.

There are notable exceptions, which have been discussed in posts like this one and this one. A man can be a wealthy CEO and still be a piss-poor nincompoop with women, while another man can sweet talk the hottest chicks out of their pants but have no interest or talent in running companies or leading groups of men to victory.

If it’s quick sex you want, then the DoF strategy should be your primary focus. The investment required to be dominant over men is significantly more costly than the investment required to display attraction-inducing dominance over women. Game is primarily a DoF-centered strategy (though there are important game concepts dealing with AMOGs — alpha male other guys), but the mastery of game will eventually redound to mastery over other men, because success will women will fill you with confidence that will carry over into all areas of your life.

The DoF strategy may seem separate and distinct to the DoM strategy, but that is an artifact of the particular skillset brought to bear on the issue of seducing women, and the time compression that DoF operates within. Cockiness, aloofness, negs, DHVs, teasing, hoops, takeaways and venue bouncing — all of them displays of dominance over the women you are picking up — are simultaneously subcommunications of dominance over other men as well. A woman who gets aroused at your neg and subconsciously replaces her suitor assessment mental algorithm with a “self-assessment” mental algorithm (as one astute commenter put it) is turned on by your deft composure in the presence of her beauty as well as the tacit implication that your self-interested, cocky confidence is powerful circumstantial evidence that you also possess a facility with dominating other men.

However you seek it, know this: the pussy must always be subordinate to the cock. If it isn’t, she’ll let you know with an icy cold stare, a backturn, a polite dismissal or, worst, another man’s baby.

Posted in Biomechanics is God, Ugly Truths | 226 Comments »

Potential Rapist Syndrome

July 13, 2011 by Heartiste

A crooked-faced atheist chick has set the net aflame with a tragic tale of threatening elevator courtship that could rival Caylee Anthony’s death by single mom. According to her, an inept atheist nerd propositioned her in a hotel elevator, which caused her to nearly faint with an attack of the vapors, like any equalist gender-normed feminist would do. In brief, a man entered the elevator with her at 4AM after a “skeptics” conference had ended, and proceeded to awkwardly and nervously ask her out to coffee, which she declined.

Yep, that’s the whole story. Riveting stuff, ain’t it?

But the important thing to understand is how Indignant Atheist Chick FELT. To use her words, she felt

Uncooooomfortable.

Poor dear. And then right on cue a chorus of feminist commenters chimed in with accusations that the awkward elevator man was a potential rapist.

For a replay of the characters involved, here’s a withering rundown of the sordid affair, including links to limp-wristed nancyboys who couldn’t wait to jump like little doggies begging for table scraps from approving feminists.

Potential Rapist Syndrome is a mind virus infecting the brains of put-upon feminists all over America and Sweden. The slightest effrontery by a man not immediately deemed a charismatic alpha male by the woman victim causes the virus to multiply rapidly, resulting in flawed reasoning that imputes the worst possible motives to innocuous, if unattractively nerdy, male behavior. Using the illogic of this mind virus, any action that a man takes in attempt to pick up a woman is potential rape as long as she feels it is.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in the park? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in a bar? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out here or there? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in a house? With a mouse? Potential rapist.

Did he make her feel uncomfortable asking her out in a box? With a fox? Potential rapist.

Richard Dawkins was right. This is female hamster-fueled solipsism to the nth degree. The growth industry of Entitled American Bitches is feeding this female martyrdom indulgence in believing the Western world is out to get them. Only a foul bitch so full of herself, so enamored of her precious biological cargo, could wilt at the imaginary prospect that any man who awkwardly asks her out is itching to rape her before the elevator stops at the next floor. Hey Indignant Atheist Chick, Hogwarts called; they want their magical thinking back.

PRS is very similar to PMS in its symptoms. Women lose all logic and reason to a flood of hormones and emotional hysteria, rendering them unsuitable conversational partners until the episode has passed. Do not under any circumstance try to comfort a woman in the throes of PRS, or otherwise try to redeem your “inappropriate” behavior to make her feel better. She will simply lash out with increased rage, incoherent to everyone but herself, other sufferers of PRS and thimble-chubbed beta wankers hoping to sneak in their pants under cover of empathy. A woman experiencing PRS hates the mass of bumbling men for not knowing how to properly satisfy her desires for interaction with an aloof and charming alpha male. Like the PMS victim, any attempt to assuage her irrational torment will be met with an icy stare at best, and thrown objects at worst. Pointing out the flaws in the PRS sufferer’s anti-logic will be perceived by her as an act of psychological war, an imposition of your rigid male sexuality upon her enlightened female vulnerability and purity. Proceed with indifference.

Maxim #48: The feminist loathing of male desire is at the root of all their complaining about men and the dating scene. Feminists, in their hearts, despise the freedom and longevity of male sexuality. And they particularly despise that freedom when lowly beta males attempt to exercise it.

Thus ends the cultural dissolution portion of today’s lecture, and begins the game portion. Given the above, it will surprise some of the readers that this blog holds little sympathy for Inept Elevator Nerd. Asking a woman out for coffee before you’ve won her interest is bad game. Asking her out in an elevator at 4AM when she has nowhere to escape is bad game. Doing all of it with the nervousness of a beta herb who hasn’t had any for years is ZERO GAME.

Direct game of the sort that elevator dude “ran” is best used in open spaces where the woman won’t feel cornered. It’s good pickup strategy to give a woman the feeling of being able to freely excuse herself if she finds your hard sell lacking. A woman is more likely to allow her intrigue to flower if the man who approaches her with directness knows that she values an easy out should she need it. It’s an implied understanding that only men who have experience bedding women will know, and women know this.

Indirect game is better for enclosed spaces like elevators where the first goal is to make the woman feel comfortable in your presence. (Some pickup artists have successfully run direct game in elevators, but it requires a healthy dose of charisma and cocky humor, as well as the social savvy to defuse the inherent tension of small spaces. For example: “Oh, wow, an awkward elevator ride, just like in the movies. I’m getting off in three floors, so I’d better make my flirting count!”)

A man who directly approaches a woman in a context that offers her an unmessy exit is, in the woman’s hindbrain, a confident man unafraid of potential rejection. This is a tacit demonstration of higher value that will immediately set the tone of the pickup in the man’s favor. In contrast, a man who directly approaches a woman in a context that affords her no quick, polite escape is, in the woman’s mind and likely in reality as well, a desperate beta who needs to corner a woman to win an audience with her. She will easily and seamlessly rationalize this awkward behavior on his part as the machinations of a rapist’s mind.

Whenever you worry that the principles of game will become too well-known and overused by men, just remember Inept Elevator Nerd. The world is teeming with men like him who have zero clue how women work. Your worries that game will increase the competition above and beyond what female obesity is creating for the few remaining slender chicks in existence are unfounded. Inept Elevator Nerds continue to roam the plains in vast, undifferentiated numbers.

When in doubt about the goodness and righteousness of game, remember the fundamental rule of female magical thinking, gentlemen:

Beta = Potential rapist.

Alpha = It just happened!

No further explanation needed.

Posted in Culture, Game, Girls, Maxims, Misandry | 543 Comments »

Winning Back Pissed Off Ex-Girlfriend

July 8, 2011 by Heartiste

A reader asks:

How do you win back an ex girlfriend when she’s pissed off and not speaking to you?

You win her back by not trying to win her back.

I know that sounds cryptic, but it’s true. As soon as you make an effort to “win back” an angry ex, she’ll resent your obsequious groveling (which is what most “winning back” strategies that men employ amount to).

However, I will say this, it’s better to have a pissed off ex than an indifferent ex. Indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love. An angry ex can be gamed into a hatefuck, but an indifferent ex is already hopping on fresh cock. You are yesterday’s news.

So how do you “not-win back” an angry ex? See here. Executive summary: Avoid at all costs any post-breakup “talks”. Cut off all contact for two or three weeks, when she will be at the peak of missing you. At about that time you have a couple of options. Either call to say hi in your most nonsexual, friendly tone, and end the conversation before she does, or send a non sequitur text and she if she bites.

A lot of times, angry exes will come back to you on their accord if you just lay off them. Is she angry because you cheated on her or because you acted like a beta one too many times? If the former, she’ll rush back, vaginally itching to forgive you. If the latter, she’s already forgotten you.

Posted in Game, Girls, Guy Rules | 278 Comments »

Phrenology Is Legit: Wide-Faced Men Are Untrustworthy

July 8, 2011 by Heartiste

Think you can’t judge a person’s character by the shape of his skull? Think again:

Researchers spanning many scientific domains, including primatology, evolutionary biology and psychology, have sought to establish an evolutionary basis for morality. While researchers have identified social and cognitive adaptations that support ethical behaviour, a consensus has emerged that genetically determined physical traits are not reliable signals of unethical intentions or actions. Challenging this view, we show that genetically determined physical traits can serve as reliable predictors of unethical behaviour if they are also associated with positive signals in intersex and intrasex selection. Specifically, we identify a key physical attribute, the facial width-to-height ratio, which predicts unethical behaviour in men. Across two studies, we demonstrate that men with wider faces (relative to facial height) are more likely to explicitly deceive their counterparts in a negotiation, and are more willing to cheat in order to increase their financial gain. Importantly, we provide evidence that the link between facial metrics and unethical behaviour is mediated by a psychological sense of power. Our results demonstrate that static physical attributes can indeed serve as reliable cues of immoral action, and provide additional support for the view that evolutionary forces shape ethical judgement and behaviour.

So, you really want to limit your dealings with guys who look like this:

This whole subject — that character traits and behaviors can be predicted by physical features — is pregnant with deliciously unsavory thoughtcrime. Do women get more viscerally aroused by wide-faced, beady-eyed men because of women’s attraction to the male dark triad of personality traits? Are long-faced, large-eyed men, presumably more trustworthy, more likely to ascend the corporate ladder? Do wide male faces differ in frequency among population groups? Are people with sloping foreheads really stupider than people with high foreheads? If the genes responsible for making wide male faces and beady eyes also predispose those men to unethical or criminal behavior, what does that say about free will? Criminal culpability? And why, in the first place, would wide faces evolve to be associated with a badboy personality? Why not long faces?

And can we make predictions of women’s behavior based on their facial structure? This blog previously examined the connection between women’s looks and their behavior, and the hysterical screeching it caused amongst the feminists suggests that this avenue of inquiry will not be one any scientist concerned about his reputation or tenure track will want to vigorously pursue.

Luckily the Chateau is here to talk about the things everyone else REALLY wants to talk about, but is afraid to do so.

Posted in Biomechanics is God, Ugly Truths | 96 Comments »

The Bar Girl, Ten Years Later

July 8, 2011 by Heartiste

Reader whorefinder remembers a tragic story from his past.

Story time: you’ve all heard of Coyote Ugly, the bar in New York City? Many of you who are above 25 remember there was movie about it, which, unfortunately, turned out to be a beta-male-chick-flick as opposed to the semi-porno it should have been. Such a waste…

Anyway, I live in NYC, and have frequented the bar many times over the last 10 years or so. And this is the sad story.

You see, there’s a redheaded bartender who’s worked there since I started going. We’ve chatted a few times over the years, but nothing more–like a good bartender, she remembers my face when I come in, but she wouldn’t know me from Adam if I walked by on the street.

Now, we’re the same age. I started going around age 22, which was, coincidentally, the same year she started working there.

Back then, I couldn’t buy a date. A beta at heart, I marveled at the hot women at Coyote Ugly (hot in a roadhouse skank way) shaking their asses all over the place. The redhead, at the time, was in her physical prime. While not the best looking, her body was banging: slim, curvy, and elastic. She gave off that crazy-fuck vibe like something else. Danced like a motherfucker, looked like a poor man’s angel.

Now I know she was a skank, because each time I moseyed in, I saw a new guy with her. He’d sit down the end of the bar, bored, but occasionally, when no one was looking, she’d give him a kiss. In my early-to-mid 20’s, sad to say, I closed out Coyote Ugly and other bars way too often, and yet still went home alone to punch the clown. And the redhead would, monthly, be leaving with a new dude to get fucked by.

As I grew, matured, and, most importantly, developed game, I actually started to have success with women, and places like Coyote Ugly and strip clubs became distant memories for me, only to be visited for nostalgia, boredom, or shits-and-giggles when buddies are in town. I can pick up a hotter woman now much easier than spending $60-$100 to watch a whorish one be a cocktease to me and feed me bullshit. This is what game does—changes your perspective on everything, makes you disdain what you once would have given an arm for.

Those times I did roll into Coyote Ugly, the redhead would invariably be around. I found out from a bouncer she eventually became the bar manager, hence her hanging around even if not working behind the bar. But her look changed, too.

Years of hard drinking (Coyote girls often drink with the guys, although they invariably will get you to drink way more than them to push up your bill) and smoking outside gave her deposits of fat on her once-pristine body. Years of having a new cock every night left her face haggard, old, and tired, even when she faked a smile. Years of bad food from late night shit shops left her unable to speedplow through dance routines on the bar she once cut like a young farmer in summer. Years of screaming to the bar to “make some noise” and one too many bummed nicotine sticks left her voice low, deep, and gravelly—like the welfare queens you might hear on COPS.

She knew it, too. When she began, she dressed in a bikini top and short, short shorts almost every time I saw her (or ass-tight leather pants). Then, as she withered, she dressed more conservatively (at least for a wannabe roadhouse bar)—longer shorts and looser pants, to the point her tops were more “Jersey Girl out in the 1980’s” than Coyote Ugly. She took to wearing a short sleeve button down when going out for a smoke and then “forgetting” to take it off behind the bar. She wasn’t in denial—just trying to hide Father Time’s and Mother Bad Decision’s abusive marks.

I went in there the other night with a 25 year old Russian hottie I’m banging, for the first time in a year. And saw the redhead. Now 31, her face is permanently jowly from the screaming, nicotine, fatty food, and cocks. She’s well on her way to obesity, and doesn’t even bartend any more, even as a fill in—just a manager. Her once strawberry red hair, which was light and airy, is now stringy, greasy, and worn from one too many guys yanking on it. She even has stretch marks—apparently, she had a kid.

When I walked in with hottie, she was sitting at the edge of the bar, encouraging the new girls to act as she did once, when spring was in her step. She looked up at me and her eyes flickered two painful emotions: recognition of my face, and shame. She was shamed by me, a man who once probably openly salivated at her but was too shy to do anything about it, standing there, now confident, brazen, and cocksure, arm around the waist of a girl ten times hotter than her—and also knowing that I remembered her when she could stop a clock. Now, the only thing that stops for her is a bus.

Long story. I think I’ll cross post at my site.

Somewhere in the readership, a trashy, loudmouthed, has-been skank who spent one too many years walking the trail of pecker tears just cried at her reflection in the mirror.

Cautionary tale, ladies. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Posted in Hitting The Wall, The Big City Life, Ugly Truths | 493 Comments »

Style’s Attraction Amplifier

July 7, 2011 by Heartiste

I occasionally like to give props to pickup artists when they have great ideas. There’s a reason Style — homely and short as he is — was nonetheless renowned as a successful ladies’ man. Here’s his idea for a great throwaway line that generates instant attraction or intrigue in a woman. (Scroll through the marketing BS to get to the video toward the end.)

Basically, you walk through a group of women (or a mixed group), make eye contact with the girl you like, and as you’re walking by her say “I’m taken”. I suppose then you can either wait for a reaction and linger to see if she bites, or you can continue walking past and meet up with her later after she’s had time to become curious about you.

Some haters will object, because that is the curse of their stunted little minds. “But if you sleep with her after you told her you’re taken, isn’t that lying? Anyhow, she’ll ignore you because she thinks you’re in a relationship.”

Get off this blog! Seduction is the masterful weaving of gossamer lies — manufactured drama purposefully designed to excite the female sensory system, in which both you and her are active and aware participants in the game. The logic of telling a girl you are already taken would no doubt escape those who refuse to, or can’t, face female sexual nature head on without head asploding, but the truth is that women are attracted to men other women love. Please go back and study the fundamentals. Start with female preselection. Educate yourself. A man in the company of women, or perceived to enjoy the company of women, is infinitely more attractive to other women than a man alone or with other men. The fact that such a man is “off-limits” is only a threadbare legalistic hurdle to a woman’s hamster. If she likes you, you can later spin “I’m taken” any way you want and she’ll buy it… because she wants to buy it.

The elegance of Style’s attraction amplifier is what is left unspoken. It assumes the sale, without requiring too much in the way of clunky verbiage. As the brazenly, irrationally confident man about town, you want to act as if every woman you meet is already sold on you. You come “pre-approved”. “I’m taken” insinuates that your target was interested in you and that it is understandable why she was so. It will follow like flowering labia follow tingles that she will thus become interested in you.

Posted in Game | 203 Comments »

Comment Of The Week

July 7, 2011 by Heartiste

From esteemed commenter Rollo Tomassi:

The ugly secret to a successful and healthy LTR/Marriage that women both hate and need in spades can be summed up in two words:

Competition Anxiety

This one element inspires the hottest sex, the closest sense of appreciation, and the greatest ambient threat that women need to base their self-worth on by association with their committed lover. Every item on this list can, by degrees, be mitigated by maintaining an ever-present, subconscious awareness that you are a sought after commodity.

Every element of Game still plays a critical role in an LTR; it only differs in it’s application. Every divorce I know of was the result of anxiety being replaced by comfort.

This is exactly right. You want to rejuvenate a flagging LTR or (heaven forbid) marriage? Make her sweat a bit. Flirt with other women. Make sure your girlfriend or wife sees you or hears of you holding company with enraptured female admirers. The Chateau wrote a post about instilling dread in your lover to keep the love red hot. It was, naturally, criticized by the sputtering Jizzebel contingent, the limp-noodled betas and the apoplectic standard bearers of conventional lies. A heady, bracing truth has that effect on losers and weirdos.

Comfort and contentment may be pleasurable goals in the short term, but over the long term they sabotage any relationship. Take your comfort in small doses, and keep it spiced with the anxiety of loss. Her inflamed vulva will thank you.

Posted in Comment Winners | 44 Comments »

The Hazards Of Long Term Relationships

July 6, 2011 by Heartiste

It’s no hard sell to convince most people of the benefits of long term relationships. The intimacy, the shared experiences, the knowing winks and nods in crowded rooms, the quasi-telepathic unspoken understanding, and the cosmically unfathomable depth of love that seems to stop time — there is no better feeling in the world than sex with a woman you love who loves you back with equal fervor. The moment you slip into your lover and simultaneously lock eyes with her is an unparalleled intensity of pleasure that no one night stand, fling or fuck buddy, however passionate, can match.

But it is not an unalloyed good. With the tremendous good comes the risk of treacherous bad, always conniving and usurping to corrode your love and the presumed impregnable strength of your relationship. You must be on guard against these foul subverters at all times if you want to avoid the saddest fate of avoidable heartbreak.

LTRs will make you and her fat and lazy.

The same feeling of comfort and contentment that long term relationships gives to lovers mischievously robs them of the things that helped bring them together in the first place. Satisfaction quickly morphs into self-satisfaction, and the double-edged sword of comfortable monogamy turns its poison-dipped blade on its wielders. Food becomes central to your shared life, sustenance for the heart as well as the body. The powerfully endorphic love you share blinds both of you to encroaching dilapidation — a few pounds here, an aloof demurral to exercise there, an apathetic dismissal of a suggestion for a night on the town — and pretty soon she’s getting fat and sloppy and you’re getting boring. Your dick shrivels, her pussy desiccates. Soon, even the love follows the same tragic descent.

Prevention is simple, if laborious. Mentally frame any relationship as a continual process of falling in love, and every night together as a first date. This will, of course, be easier to do if you have inspiration. Such inspiration comes primarily in the form of your girl keeping herself as hot as she was when she passively wooed you that night you approached her. A woman, as the sex naturally inclined to embracing the herd mentality, will quickly fall in line with a stringent exercise and eating program if you make yourself an example to her. You do this not only by flaunting your self-discipline and your masculine physique, but by allowing other women to flirt with you and to engage the women around you with a charming effrontery that dances along the line between seductive impudence and naive chatter. Pepper conversations with subtle references to your exercise progress and the high you get from feeling and looking so good. Don’t be afraid to be a little cocky.

As the man, you have to lead in this department. If you let yourself go, physically and mentally, she will either follow suit or she will lap you around the race track, in preparation for the day, coming soon, when she cheats on you or leaves you for the man worthy of her 0.7 waist-hip ratio and 21 BMI. Either result is death for the LTR that means anything. You stop wanting to have sex with her or she stops wanting to have sex with you.

LTRs make Jack and Jill dull lovers.

Creativity is the KY that lubes the limbic system. You remember how clever you sounded when you started dating her, and how much effort she put into dressing sexily and acting womanly? The things in our control that make us sexy are a function of our creativity. Over time, your cleverness atrophies from disuse, and her careful consideration of dress and feminine manners dissipates. You become a machine beeping trivialities and trite observations, and she becomes a billowy sweatshirt-wearing task master. You and her are in love, and love eventually subdues the pressure to impress.

A little bit of pressure keeps a relationship fun and fueled on its own momentum. Stay desirable to women besides your lover, and she will be sure to keep herself maximally attractive to you. Don’t fall into dispiriting patterns like taking vacation in the same locales, eating at the same restaurants, buying the same styles year in and year out, gossiping about the same bullshit that 7 billion other dullards gossip about. Again, as the man, you must lead here. Start with the sex. Instead of the usual routine kiss on the cheek when you come home from work, sidle up behind her when she’s in the kitchen, hike her skirt and fuck her from behind. Fuck her in the park. Fuck her on a boat. Fuck her at the top of a ferris wheel. One night of crazy fucking like this is worth ten years of couples therapy.

LTRs will make you and her codependent.

The lament is universal, a staple of sitcoms. “I don’t see my buddy anymore now that he’s got the ol’ ball and chain.” Love is dangerous in one important respect — it will divert a man from his mission(s) in life. His attention now solely focused on his lover, the hobbies, ambitions, social circle and side projects that made him so attractive to her begin to wither under the onslaught of the time-consuming LTR. Like a centrifuge, his self-made identity spins and jettisons away from him, to be replaced by the newly forged identity within the LTR.

Now you can’t do anything without her, and she you. In the beginning, this is a necessary process to build the level of trust and bonding that distinguishes the LTR from any run of the mill fling. But it morphs into a hermetic pair-bond cocoon, a soft escapable prison that shields from the outside world more than it protects. Increasingly consanguineous, the LTR alienates friends and slackens ambitions.

You will have to learn to make time for friends or hobbies in a way you never did as a single man, when friends just appeared and stuff happened. Try to recapture the spontaneity of the single life, and don’t sweat it when your lover wants to do the same with her own friends. Time apart with separate social groups, doing different things, is a battle cry asserting individuality and independence. A woman as much admires and desires the independent man as she fears and envies him. You will never see a brighter twinkle in a lover’s eyes than when, coming home from a night out with your buddies, you regale her with tales of manly impropriety, but then, just when her heartbeat has reached a fevered cadence, you offhandedly muse that you thought about her during the night.

LTRs are monogamous.

Monogamy. The word rouses yearning and trepidation in the male mind at once. A romantic blessing! Or is it a prison? Back and forth it goes, until the typical man resolves the issue by refusing to choose, allowing the choice to be made for him by dwindling options and headstrong harpies.

There is no doubt that men are programmed down to the cilia in their cells to desire sex with a multiplicity of attractive, fertile women. Variety is the spice of life, spread the seed, hogamus higamus etc. Some men have stronger urges to variety than other men, but in all men it is there in lesser or greater degree. The LTR, filled with the bounty of love, nevertheless thwarts a man’s genetic script to seed the wombs of many seed-able women.

For men with low compunction to promiscuity (provider betas), the monogamous relationship is a sweetheart deal: they give up something they weren’t all that gung-ho to pursue anyhow, for something that brings them much joy. Men with a raging libido and a wandering eye (caddish alphas) more or less suffer indignities under the LTR regime, and their predatory lust must be either squelched or sated, the former apt to inflict psychological and testicular distress while the latter a sure destruction of the intimate love that cannot tolerate infidelity except in the most feral societies.

The problem, all too familiar to readers of this blog, arises from the fact that the LTR-pursuing betas are less likely to tingle the ginas of LTR-loving women than the lustful alphas who must be dragged kicking and screaming into monogamous obligation. What a cruel joke nature has played on us all! To tempt men and women with a prize they both want, but to establish a set of playing rules that subverts the very prize to be won, and handicaps the players most invested in the game.

Many PUAs and gurus claim that this circle can be squared; that is, that the skilled seducer can have his cake and eat it, too. He can enjoy the love expressed in an LTR while getting some action on the side.

I have heard these stories, and even seen it play out in real life. But my opinion remains negative on the enterprise. For the overwhelmingly majority of men, from high to low station, game to gameless, it is an unrealistic and mostly unattainable trick to lock in a lover for the long haul while openly satisfying his sexual need for variety. Sooner or later, it will come to a head; the LTR will evaporate into divorce or loveless airs as the repeated insult of open infidelity scours his lover’s emotional bond, or the mistresses will remain discreet behind a wall of lies and resigned toleration by the put-upon woman, the way the French do it.

Naturally, the more alpha a man is, the greater his chances to pull off this pseudo-polygamous hat trick, owing primarily to the fact that women are quicker to forgive the vices of an alpha lover than a beta lover. But even alpha has its limits, and a woman who was once enthralled by her lover’s sexy but risky enticements will someday age both psychologically and chronologically, lose her estrogenic steam, and collapse under the weight of the betrayals. A man can love more than one woman at once, but a woman cannot love more than one man at once. She, at best, can only sex more than one man concurrently. She, ultimately, finds the fullness of her love manifest in the singular, unshared love of one man to whom she is faithfully devoted.

And so for this last part I have no answer. You, as a man, will have to choose what is more important to you: transcendent, unpolluted love, or visceral sexual pleasure. You may attempt to hide your mistresses, and that may work for a while, but it may also not work, and you will have to live with the little lies of omission for as long as you and your lover are together. Some men, particularly the ones most desired by women, are devoid of the moral sense, or sustain a cartoonish, wilted version of it, and can live side by side with lies and not give it a moment’s doubt or self-reflection.

You can also try your hand at an open relationship, wherein your lover knows you seek novel pussy on the side and you, presumably, allow her to do the same with novel cock. But realistically, most men will not be able to abide a lover’s infidelity, no matter how contractually agreed upon. The thought alone of a girlfriend or wife fucking another man, however many mistresses that man himself may indulge, will drive him to a fever. Men by nature and given a free choice would collect concubines and prefer those lovers guarded by eunuchs, not by virile male competitors.

Finally, there is the long shot of the one-way open relationship, aka the royal harem. She remains sexually and emotionally loyal to you, while you get to screw around whenever the feeling hits you. No lies, no subterfuge; everything is out in the open. In my experience, this can be done if your game is incredibly tight, BUT…

It won’t work forever. It won’t even work for a year. A few months is closer to the reality, and odds are it will end in a huge flame-out rather than a genial handshake. Some top PUAs love to crow about their ability to tie down girls into one-way open LTRs, and I have no reason to speculate about their honesty, but I do doubt many of these master seducers are pulling anything like this for more than a few months at a time. (Exceptions exist, but seriously, how long did Stephane Hemon’s threesome LTR last?) Women are certainly capable of swooning unreasonably for a truly charismatic alpha male, and agreeing to arrangements against their interests which in regards to any lesser man would strike women as laughable propositions, but to play kept woman in a real harem rather than a de facto harem shrouded in the mists of plausible deniability, exciting and drama-fueled as it is, is a contrivance guaranteed to end badly when the intoxication of labial lust wears off.

No matter how hot, young and vivacious your LTR lover is, your eye will someday wander, because it is in your nature as a man to want to fuck every sweet piece of ass who crosses your line of vision. To accommodate this visceral desire, you can abdicate the pursuit of LTRs and stay a single poon hound, you can enjoy an LTR while shooting for strange under cover of night, or you can make peace with your urges and learn to abide them unsatisfied as part of the LTR deal. Many men — most men, in fact — accept the latter, and do so without too much regret. The trade-offs, it seems, are worth it.

The choice is less a moral one than a practical one, inasmuch as animal desires supposedly bequeathed us by god can’t be said to have moral underpinnings. What do you prioritize? What gives you the greatest happiness? There’s your answer.

Posted in Love, Relationships, Ugly Truths | 314 Comments »

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