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Every Situation Is An Opportunity For Pickup

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Some unlearned folk think girls can only be picked up in bars or nightclubs, or that those two venues are the bread and butter of advanced cadding practitioners. They have no comprehension of the ease with which girls can be approached and courted in just about every conceivable situation outside bars and nightclubs. Every real world situation offers the awakened man who is aware of his surroundings an opportunity to say something charming that could spark and expand a conversation with a girl inside his phonic sphere.

Bus stop: “I know this bus driver. Here’s a tip: Flash some leg if you want a free ride. Works for me.”

Waiting in line for roller coaster: “If I throw up on you when we’re upside-down, don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me.”

Doctor’s office: “I’m here for my bloodletting.”

Gym: “Great form!…. for a girl.”

Liquor store: “My AA group is throwing a party. I’m in charge of supplies.”

Car dealership: “I don’t want the rust protection. That’s like getting a prenup. Takes all the romance out of it, doncha think?”

Running to girl on sidewalk: “Holy crap, you walk fast. How am I supposed to woo your back?”

Dollar store, admiring $2 bauble: “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

Bowling alley: “Two strikes in a row! I need groupies. You in?”

Fly-fishing: “I’m trying to catch a mermaid. It’s time to settle down.”

Rock climbing: “Try not to stare at my butt when I’m up there. I’m self-conscious.”

At a scenic overlook: “You come here often?”

Staring side-by-side at a famously nightmarish painting in a museum: “I bet this guy got all the ladies.”

Hospital, checking in: “I have a broken heart.”

April Fool’s Day: [leaning over her cubicle] “I’ve gotta get this off my chest. Been holding it in too long. I am deeply, deeply, deeply in love with you. Always have been.” [wait a beat, point at her calendar, AN SMIRK]

Apple store Genius Bar: “Tim Cook is a fairy who does business with Saudi Arabia, a nation that beheads homosexuals, and employs Chinese child slave labor to snap the backs on iPhones. Gimme your number.”

I will neither confirm nor deny if I have used any of these lines in my own life to hit on cutie patootie pies (aka slender, 17-23 BMI, 0.65-0.75 waist-to-hip ratio, under-30 women).

The point of this post isn’t to memorize these lines. The lesson is this: Be situationally aware and in the moment. Keep your senses sharp, like a hunter surveying the veldt for prey, and exploit every chance that the banalities of life throw at you to capture the curiosity, and hearts, of cute girls gliding in and out of your world. There is much more opportunity for sexual and romantic gratification than you think you know. You’ve just gotta… bustamove.


Filed under: Game, Rules of Manhood

Comment Of The Week: A Post-White World

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COTW winner fredmertz reprimands regular troll “james blond” aka thwack for assuming museums will still be around when the whitey race becomes a relic of the past.

No nigga gonna pay fo a.museum, specially one fo da white man! Only exhibit I can see is a statue of a giant EBT card. ”Is it true, daddy? We used to get money for nuthin’?” “Dass true Quantavious…it be over now. White man gone…”


Filed under: Comment Winners

Alpha Male Of The Month: Das Booty

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Everyday Jesus. Discuss.

Nobutferreals, the AOTM is this faceless, orchestrating German man from the years 1969-1970 whose candid photos of his mistress (who is also married at the time of the affair), along with notes he wrote about the affair, were recently discovered hiding in an old abandoned suitcase (zehr romantic!).

We know this because Günter meticulously documented the affair like a compulsive accountant.

Ethnic stereotypes — they don’t materialize out of thin air.

The story would be dull—clichéd even—without the voyeuristic thrill that comes with the intimate details: a married German businessman and his married secretary, Margret, have a brief affair from 1969 to 1970. Everything you see here came from a suitcase purchased at an estate auction 30 years after the affair, and it’s an utterly engrossing collection of artifacts.

So far, so alpha. But what elevates this man from garden variety loverJunge to alpha male of the month is the following detail tucked in the recesses of his l’affaire journal.

At one point, the man’s wife confronts [mistress] Margret, accusing her of disrupting a happy marriage. Margret is furious, and so the businessman then forces his wife to apologize to her.

And there it is. A greater beta male who finds himself balls-deep in an affair would cave instantly when his wife discovered his infidelity and confronted his lover. An alpha male has his scorned wife APOLOGIZE to his mistress for her accusatory insolence! That pivotal conversation as recounted by Günther:

Indeed, his notes reveal that his wife Leni is aware of the affair but chooses to endure the humiliation.

Maxim #50: The wife of an alpha male will stoically endure the worst humiliations while the wife of a beta male won’t tolerate his merest deviation from her impossible expectations.

In one of the first long notes, typed on a page from a calendar, Günther describes a confrontation between Margret and his wife:

[Roughly translated from German]

Monday 7.9.1970: At lunch Leni (Günthers wife) says to Margret: Madame, you are a lesser character, you are disrupting a good marriage.

Tuesday 8.9.1970: Around 10 a clock Margret says to me: You let this insult from your wife against me pass? No more sex, you can jump on your own wife. Whatever you do, you are not allowed to jump on me anymore. [ed: classy lady]

Later, my wife has to apologize to her at lunch on 8.9.1970.

That afternoon they go upstairs again to make love and the note ends with:

Devil salad is eaten. Everything is okay again. 

Before you think this alpha male has oneitis, or is led by the dick by Margret, read on:

He gets involved with other women at the request of Margret who wants him to go on dates with other women, presumably to quell suspicion from her own husband.

There is Giesela, who Günther describes as “sexually starving”, and Ursula, a “big and skinny” 21 year-old who “looks really good. White boots, green dress, black hair.” Günther reveals Margret’s subsequent panicked jealousy, begging him not to fall in love with Ursula. He also mentions that despite him still being involved with Ursula, Margret fights with her husband and asks for a divorce.

When your wife apologizes to your mistress, and your mistress gets jealous of your other mistresses, you might be an alpha male.

And the questions linger. What makes a man document his affair so meticulously? Did he want to preserve the relationship to relive it later? Was this industrial businessman searching for a creative platform to express his love? Or merely the confirmation of his control over the situation, as he mastered the art of adultery?

All of the above. A man’s memories of his lovers and his sexual pleasures will be his most vividly recalled, right into old age. More easily recalled than even the names and ages of his children. A man is roused to creativity by youthful, beautiful women. And a man takes pride in his seductive prowess. This is the way of a man. Yes, a real man.

During one of their “business trips”, Günther makes a list of all the times they made love….

Wednesday 12 Aug. 1970: 17 18.15  1x

Beginning of her period (tampon) Initiation party anyways.

Tuesday 18 Aug. 1970: 15.15 -15. 20.

Yellow chair in front of the aquarium (sitting) 1x

Wednesday 2 Sept. 1970: 17. 05-18.00 1x

With beautiful music, resting afterwards

Günther wasn’t about to let the Red Army stop his initiation party advance. Now, if his mistress hadn’t been a sweet piece of ass, you can bet Günther wouldn’t have thrown propriety to the wind and pressed into the bloody breach, undaunted.

Günther’s testimony proved one of the CH maxims about the power of female youthnbeauty:

Maxim #40: A young, pretty girl is nature’s viagra, capable of exciting an old man who hasn’t seen action in forty years to perform on command.

Postscript: The photos of Margret the Mistress are poetic in their own right. Günther had an eye for fleeting beauty, and doomed romance. Look at these candid snaps. Overlook her dated hairdo for the full impact. Margret has hot little minx face, if ever a woman had it.

PPS No obesity here!


Filed under: Alpha

The Fishing Theory Of Game

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Its provenance uncertain, an anonymous sage explains the Fishing Theory of Game:

It’s like fishing. You don’t just jerk your line out of the water as soon as you can. That’s how you get a broken line and lose an expensive lure. You jerk her in slowly letting the fish tire herself out. Once she’s sufficiently submissive then it’s time for the net. After that if you feel like catching another one then just cast your reel again.

You never let a girl control the line. That’s how you lose fish.

Mystery’s “cat string theory” describes a similar phenomenon of female psychology. A cat won’t lunge for the string if it’s just sitting there in front of her, but if the string [your penis and any proxies for your penis, like your brain or personality] is moving away or zig-zagging, she’ll pounce.

The shared idea behind all these pithy game theories is that women want a man who seems like he gets so much mad pussy that he can take or leave any one particular pussy. This is the man who “flips the script” and has women chasing him. Women love the man of plenty. Women are repulsed by the man of need.

I don’t make the biomechanic rules, folks, I just deliver the news, because a well-informed citizenry is an accountable sexual market.


Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Game, Ugly Truths

The Essence Of Game Condensed To A Three Second Video

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You can practically see the exact moment a tingle zaps her vagina.

The ponytail pull is a staple of charismatic jerkboys. This outtake is the best distillation of game in three seconds you will likely come across. Why is this so? Think back to this post describing the Fishing Theory of Game.

The shared idea behind all these pithy game theories is that women want a man who seems like he gets so much mad pussy that he can take or leave any one particular pussy. This is the man who “flips the script” and has women chasing him. Women love the man of plenty. Women are repulsed by the man of need.

The ponytail pull is fun, teasing, even taunting. But there’s a deeper subcommunication that speaks directly to the female id. The man who pulls the ponytail with reckless disregard for the potential of a withering rebuke from the girl is the man who, through his strong indication of indifference (IOI) to the girl’s reaction, signals that he is flush with sexual market options.

The ponytail pull is a powerful mate value cue; it implies to the delighted recipient, “This man is a man of plenty. He breezily risks my wrath, and my romantic rejection, therefore he must have no trouble getting women. Women desire him, so I must desire him. And, oh yeah, the thought of getting my hair pulled during a sweaty rut turns me on.”

A clearer delineation between alpha and beta males you couldn’t find. If you surveyed one hundred alpha males, more than a handful would confess to having pulled the ponytail. And those who hadn’t could easily envision themselves doing it.

One hundred beta males, to the contrary, would confess to never having pulled a ponytail. Instead, they would stare aghast at this demonstration of entitled, dominant, seductive male courtship display, and wonder aloud how it is girls fall for these jerks every time while they politely keep their hands off ponytails like true gentlemen.


Filed under: Game

Matchmakers’ Client Game

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Are you wondering how to maintain that “man of poon plenty” attitude (aka fornucopia) when your social circle plays matchmaker for you? Commenter mendozatorres asks,

“Women are repulsed by the man of need.”

So in a case where a man is being introduced to women by friends/acquaintances, does this work against him, since it could come across as him being needy?

It could, but it won’t, if you know the Way of the Charming Jerkboy. It’s a very simple reframe when you want to avoid the stink of neediness that does tend to Pigpen-ishly waft around the clients of eager beaver matchmakers. When you are introduced to the girl, lightheartedly break the ice:

“I apologize for my friends’ insistence on setting me up. They apparently don’t like the women I date without their help.”

This serves two subcommunication goals: One, you don’t need their help to get laid. Two, she’ll wonder what kinds of women you pull. And when women wonder about that, their hamsters can’t resist imagining some sexy, hell-on-wheels badgirl with zero bedroom inhibitions.


Filed under: Game

Spot The Diversity

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Poz Vox recently had its one-year anniversary (“happy voxiversary”… that’s one smooth portmanteau). A staff photo was Twitted.

Vox, as you may or may not know, is a seething pit of anti-badwhite “anti-racism” Judeo-Christian hatred. If there’s a Dindu Nuffin or a Gentle Giant or a make-believe rape culture victim who can be exploited to slander normal, heterosexual white men, the girls at Vox are on the case.

With that in mind, notice anything peculiar about Vox’s staff? Can you… spot the Diversity?

I see one. Lower right corner. Couple of asians in the mix, too, but they don’t qualify as “Diversity” in the way the word is meant by Voxian shitlibs.

Infamous Tweeter, @CAPSLOCKHUSTLA was up to the task of spotting the Diversity. He responded “FOUND IT” and included a helpful pointer:

Very relevant postscript: Matty Yglesias named his kid “Jose”. You can’t make this shitlibbery up.


Filed under: Beta, Funny/Lolblogs, The Id Monster, Tool Time, Ugly Truths

Careerism, Alcoholism, Promiscuity: Good For Men, Bad For Women

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Readers sometimes ask, “CH, if you were imprisoned in a cage of domesticity, how would you deal with the cramping of your style? What would do when your old lady is a faint echo of her former pumpworthy glory?” I’ve always half-glibly said, “liquor and hookers”. Now a reader happily affirms the essential ingredients of the CH recipe for the good life. We’ll call it CAP:

Careerism, Alcoholism, Promiscuity.

drunicusrex writes,

Careerism plus functioning alcoholism plus promiscuity is perfectly fine in men, so long as they support their families well, and raise strong, intelligent children.

It’s also very possible as a married man to enjoy a few drinks, keep a mistress discreetly, and be a fine father.

Most every wife will peter out eventually, in either looks or libido (often both) and yet a strong, successful guy is supposed to give up sex after two or three kids pop out?
I think not.

Careerism, alcoholism, and eat pray fuck are disastrous in women. That shit ends marriages PDQ, and certainly trashes any maternal or parental instincts. Fuck that. Women who act like men make truly ghastly moms. (And stay at home Dads getting in touch with their metro side are questionable to say the least.)

Traditional sex roles = happiness.

So now wifey is falling asleep in the couch. Earlier from outside the window I saw some college girls heading out for St Pat’s stroll past our yard, towards the bars and shops around the corner.

Our little resort/college town does, in fact, have nearly as many temptations as any big coastal city.
But I have things to do at work tomorrow ….
perhaps I’ll just go out for one or two….

Executive summary: You reverse the sexual polarities at your peril and great risk to your family.

A self-confident culture on the upswing features a lot of men following the CAP formula for happiness. A few drinks, a young pretty mistress, and a diligently pursued passion (which could be a career or a hobby) is the secret sauce that inspirits men and motivates them to continue providing for their dutiful wives and paternally assured kids.

But, a sickly, self-negating culture on the downswing reverses this formula. Men become women and women become men. All sorts of crap flows outward from that toxic strew.

Careerist men: Strong, attractive, admirable.
Careerist women: Unfeminine, bitchy, untrustworthy.

Imbibing men: Fun, charming, sociable.
Imbibing women: Slutty, crass, poor mothers.

Promiscuous men: Happy, contented, appreciative.
Promiscuous women: Deranged, restless, divorce risks.

You’ve been warned.


Filed under: Rules of Manhood, The Good Life, The Pleasure Principle

Freelance Comment Of The Week: Wasted Heart

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Porter writes with an acrid wistfulness about the story of Anthony Stokes, the Goodboy™ who recently died in a stolen car he crashed while fleeing from police after an attempted burglary. Stokes had a backstory that makes his case more interesting than the usual Dindu Nuffin shenanigans. Under pressure from SJWs and “civil rights groups” intervening on Stokes’ behalf, the hospital overturned its original decision to deny Stokes a heart transplant, the first decision having been based on his already lengthy history of delinquency. Stokes then got the heart that saved his life… for a couple of years anyway.

There aren’t that many viable hearts to go around (and the ones that are available for transplant are disproportionately from white donators, pathologically altruistic beyond the end), so hospitals have to make tough choices who gets a new heart. The life of Anthony “muhfuggin heart” Stokes likely meant the death of a better person. Porter:

Deserving recipients must die so that SJWs may preen. If the staff of Think Progress were the only ones awaiting organs, I would bury every heart in Anthony Stokes’ casket.

Reminder: This is the fine upstanding citizen saved (for a criminally short stint) by modern medicine:

This is one of the horrible racists who died waiting in the back of the line for a new heart:

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Think Progress knows. They and their ilk sold their black hearts to the devil in exchange for the earthly reward of pompous self-righteousness. Fuck them to hell.


Filed under: Comment Winners, Culture, Current Events, Goodbye America, Ugly Truths

Women Desire To Be Desired

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An article at Psychology Today titled “What Do Women Really Want?” hits all the Heartistian Realtalk notes. The author sounds like he spent his vacation at Le Chateau, and absconded with a few dusty tomes on his exit for later perusing. Excerpts:

[M]ore recent studies show that [sex] differences in reported number of sexual partners are reduced or disappear altogether if women are told that they are connected to a lie detector and that the information they provide will remain confidential. […]

The female tendency toward a roving eye can also be inferred, according to the work of evolutionary psychologist David Buss, from the very phenomenon of male jealousy, which is common in all societies and consistently related to men’s fears of potential cuckoldry. If women really do not want extra marital sex, then why are men so suspicious and jealous? Why put Stop signs on a street with no traffic?

Women aren’t as naturally promiscuous as men (especially men with options), but neither are they as pure as the wind-driven snow, as white knights and pedestal-polishing betas fervently believe.

Recent studies indicate that the objects of female sexual attraction vary with the menstrual cycle. During their fertile days, women tend to fancy high-testosterone men who are not good candidates for monogamy but have healthy male genes. How many married women secretly act on this impulse is difficult to estimate, but this type of ‘sperm poaching’ appears to be quite normative among our primate relatives.

CH has discussed “Ovulation Cycle Game” in a few posts. You need never again be SURPRISE CUCKSEXED! by an ovulating lover.

Men, in turn, are designed for this sperm competition as well. Biologist Robin Baker of the University of Manchester found, for example, that the amount of sperm a man discharges during intercourse with his wife is not dependent on the timing of the man’s last ejaculation but on the time since his last sex with his wife. If a long time has passed (increasing the chances that someone else’s seed found its way into his wife’s vagina), the husband’s ejaculate contains more sperm cells, which increases his competitive odds.

How weird to think that there’s a part of our limbic subconscious which puppeteers certain aspects of our behavior completely outside our conscious awareness.

Sex after a long separation tends to be more intense and prolonged. This is because long intercourse increases the chance of the woman reaching orgasm. According to research by Baker and biologist Mark Bellis, the uterine muscle contractions that accompany the female orgasm help retain sperm inside the vagina and move them toward the ovaries, and fertilization.

I don’t know about the validity of the explanation for it, but I agree that absence makes the rod grow harder even if it doesn’t necessarily make the heart grow fonder.

[T]he evidence suggests that women initiate divorce more often than men, and benefit less from marriage than do men on measures of health, happiness, and wealth. Additionally, as is well known to clinical psychologists and marriage counselors everywhere, many women who feel close to a loving partner nevertheless fail to feel passion for him.

Relationship Game is the cure for what ails a wife’s flagging libido. And, yeah, that female hypergamy is a bitch on lifelong love.

If monogamy, intimacy and communication are the engines of female desire, why do so many women fail to ignite with a familiar and faithful man? Why does their passion fizzle in marriage? Why will they seek to secretly graze in foreign pastures? Why do they not benefit from the monogamous arrangement more? Why do they break it up more readily?

All these burning questions answered here, in full, at the Chateau over the years. We are your one stop shoppe for the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. And amorality.

As additional evidence [for the subversive nature of female sexual desire], developmental psychologist Lisa Diamond of the University of Utah found that many women experience their sexual interests as fluid and open, encompassing at different times men or women, or both. Richard Lippa of California State University has found that unlike men, whose sexual appetite narrows as it increases, sexually charged women display an increasingly open orientation. Women with higher libidos are more likely to feel desire toward members of both sexes.

We’re all familiar with the observation that many more women than men go through a bicurious sexually experimental phase. The old joke: What’s two women and a man? A threesome. What’s two men and a woman? Gay.

Marta Meana, a researcher at the University of Nevada, has argued provocatively that the organizing principle of female sexuality is the desire to be desired.

That’s the money shot right there. Women’s desire is to be desired. This conclusion is perfectly in line with similar notions of female sexual psychology made at various UglyTruth outlets, such as the idea that women are the “receiving” sex or that women want to submit to a dominant man. The shared animating impulse described by all these ideas is the innate compulsion of women to be desired. Desired so strongly that a man loses control of himself. Women are, by their very nature, irredeemably solipsistic, and this solipsism is a function of their genetic prime directive: to use their bodies and their beauty to capture the seed and the services of a high value man.

The woman who denies her prime directive is a genetic dead ender.

In her view, the delicate, tentative guy who politely thinks about you and asks if this is okay or that is okay is a guy who may meet the expectations of your gender politics (treats me as an equal; is respectful of me; communicates with me) and your parents’ preferences, but he may also put you into a sexual coma—not despite these qualities, but because of them.

Niceguys finish last. Jerkboys finish on her face.

Female desire, according to Meana, is activated when a woman feels overwhelmingly desired, not rationally considered. Female erotic literature, including all those shades of gray, is built on this fantasy. Sexual desire in this view does not work according to our expectations and social values. Desire seeks the path of desire, not the path of righteousness. It thrives not on social order but on its negation. This is one reason all religions and societies try to control, contain, limit and re-direct it.

I’m sure there’s a CH maxim somewhere in the archives asserting that female sexuality is more dangerous than male sexuality to social order, primarily because a wanton woman can fuck a man’s shit up for eighteen years.

Marta Meana had men and women watch erotic pictures of contact between a man and a woman and tracked the participants’ eye movements. She found that men and women focus on different aspects of the sexual event. Men looked at the women, while the women watched the two genders equally. They concentrated on the man’s face and the woman’s body. What turned them on apparently were the desired female body, with which they identify, and the man’s lustful gaze, for which they long.

Men are visual, women are holistic. This is why a man’s looks aren’t as crucial to his romantic success as a woman’s looks are crucial to hers.

Despite what is commonly believed, then, Meana argues that female sexuality is more self-centered than male’s. Mick Jagger’s lamentations aside, male fantasies focus on giving satisfaction, not on receiving it. Men see themselves in their fantasies bringing the woman to orgasm, not themselves. Women see the man, set aflame by uncontrollable lust for them, bringing them to ecstasy. Men want to excite women. Women want men to excite them.

Women are the more selfish sex, in and out of the bedroom. Color me shocked.

Basically, everything feminists assert, the opposite is true.

[W]ouldn’t more women be jealous of the desired woman who cannot orgasm than of the orgasmic woman who is not desired?

Yes, women are more jealous of beautiful women than of ugly fatties. Someone make a social awareness campaign about it.

Meana asserts that this aspect of female sexuality explains the prevalence of rape fantasies in the female fantasy repertoire. Rape fantasies, in this understanding, are actually fantasies about surrender, not out of masochistic yearnings to be harmed or punished, but out of the female desire to be desired by a man to the point of driving him out of control.

This is the one part of the article with which I mildly disagree. In fact, there are plenty of women who yearn to be harmed or punished, even if their yearning operates mostly on the subconscious level of cognition, below the level of survey administrators asking pointed embarrassing questions. You need only look at the long lines of death row groupies to see that there resides among womanhood a non-trivial contingent who welcome the whip hand of a dangerous man.

It’s as if a woman’s desire to be desired is, when taken to extremes, warped into a need for punishing treatment as the only demonstrations of male desire that will mean anything to her.

According to this view, monogamous marriage does work for women on a certain level: it provides security, intimacy, and help with the children. But it also suffocates female sexual desire.

According to GSS survey data, married men have a little bit more sex on a weekly basis than do single men, but this finding is horribly skewed by the reality of all those lesser beta and omega male singles who are utterly invisible to women. I’d bet the ranch that the single alpha male gets a lot more sex, and (obviously) gets it with a much greater variety of pussy, than does the average married man.

At the end of the day, the accumulating evidence appears to reveal a paradoxical element at the core of female desire, a tension between two conflicting motives. On the one hand is the desire for stability, intimacy, and security—picture the flame on the burner of a gas stove: controlled, utilitarian, domesticated, and good for making dinner. On the other hand is the need to feel totally, uncontrollably desired, the object of raw, primal lust—a house on fire.

Female sexual nature is bifurcated. Game — the art of applied charisma — will help build a loving bridge joining together a woman’s maddening, competing desires.


Filed under: Biomechanics is God, Girls, The Id Monster, Ugly Truths

Comment Of The Week: Attitude Begets Gratitude

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Reservoir Tip slips the thematic quip in his anecdotal blip,

Had a great, short exchange with a German girl I’ve been seeing:

“You know… I’m getting ready to leave town, so maybe I’ll actually take you on anise little date before I go.”

“Out of your apartment?!”

It struck me: every date I’ve been on with this girl has been she coming to my apartment to hang out, or me making her take me to get food or groceries. I’ve never spent a penny on her, or taken her anywhere even remotely interesting.

This is the same girl that told me what she liked about me was the fact that I’m an asshole, and all her ex-boyfriends were lost puppies.

The things you can get away with when you have the right attitude…

So true. When I’ve been on top of my game, full of self-indulgent attitude, the women in my life would demand so little, and give so much. Fancy dinners? No. How about crashing in bed all day, fucking and channel flipping. That’s the shared intimacy which makes fond romantic memories you might tell your grandkids with sufficient euphemistic nuance.

The right attitude is the equivalent of eight figure bank, seven inches extra height, six circles of social connections, five academic credentials, and four plates on bench press. The Attitude is irreplaceable.

***

eofahapi is our runner-up COTW:

I believe that the reason men experience such intense highs and lows, is because for them their emotion is not used as much. They do not talk or live in emotions, they live in logic, so when that emotion boils over, it is raw, uncultivated, childlike and intense. It is extremely endearing.

Women love a stoic man not necessarily for his stoicism, but for the anticipation they feel for his white hot passion when he is roused from his stoic slumber.

***

Finally, a COTW consolation prize goes to PA, for his recounting an experience with a svelte sexpot that would send the typical tenth wave millennial fug feminist into a rage spiral of rape-flecked spittle.

Confession from my early 20s. Hotel party, lots of people and drinking. This dude and I both gun for the same chick. Unfortunately she goes for him. He was a grade-A asshole alpha, so I understand. Later everyone crashes in various beds, floor, etc. Dude, chick, and I share a queen size bed and I get woken up by their fumbles at fucking. He got whiskey dick and they gave up. Now I’m horny and wanna do something.

She seems asleep. So I coyly put my arm on her, pretending its in my sleep. I stop and gauge her response. Nothing. Almost, like she’s pretending to be asleep. I tell myself to go ahead, and I slide my hand up her T-shirt, no bra underneath. And I am ready for her to jump awake angry, in which case I’d say “sorry, I was asleep and probably thought you’re my last girlfriend.”

But she is still. I friggin swear, by her breathing, that she is pretending to be asleep. So I start playing with her breasts, gently at first and then boldly. Horny as hell at this point, I slide my hand down her ribcage, her tight tummy, down to the elastic of her shorts. and she moves her hand to block me, at which point I know she’s awake and then I travel back north.

Female coyness is an evolved behavioral tic to fool men — and. come to think it, fool women as well — about women’s rapacious sexual urges. Of course, a girl can pretend to be asleep to receive the caresses of that slow hand without bearing the emotional dissonance that often accompanies prompt sexual submission to an illicit interloper.

***

Finally? One more! Cutting deep with the poison-tipped shiv, Musashi scans the Vox staff for signs of dormant testosterone, and draws a conclusion which earns him (her?) a consolation runner-up COTW.

If the grid went down everyone in that photo would be dead within 24 hours.
Those people won’t last a day once the diversity gets riled up.

They could use the equity in their blue city fantasyland one-bedroom condos to pay protection money, which might buy a few of them a week’s worth of extra life. Beyond that, there’s no amount of semantic evasion that’ll save them once the diversity hits the fan.


Filed under: Comment Winners

The Paradox Of Women’s Need To Be Desired And Dismissed

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Commenter irishsavant puzzles over a seeming contradiction at the core of Game philosophy.

I acknowledge that I haven’t taken a formal course in Heartisteology but surely there’s a blatant contradiction here. How do you square the primacy of a woman’s need to be desired with the dismissive treatment inherent in the Alpha game plan which seems to be the only way to win a woman’s heart?

The contradiction is neatly resolved once you accept the essential conflict of women’s romantic longing for the desirable man who will deny the prerogatives of his own desirability to embrace monogamous commitment to her.

Women need the desire of a man who is himself desired. This contingency is responsible for much of the contradictory nature of female intention that befuddles inexperienced men. Yes, a woman loves the idea of the man so struck by lust that he loses control around her, and yet she knows that a man’s lustful abandon means nothing if he surrenders himself to any willing provocation. His surrender means so much more when it’s wrested after a string of battlefield victories, and his self-pride is at its zenith.

This is the impetus for the female attraction to men who walk the line between strong sexual intent and cavalier dismissiveness. To solicit a woman, then push her away, then coyly reconsider, repeated as necessary and with emphasis at each step added or removed according to its reception, until the passionate coda, is the formula for winning seductions.

A woman wants to be desired and taken, but she also wants to feel like she, alone among women, is capable of inflaming that desire, and what better proof of her power to arouse and capacity to awaken well-fed beasts to the hunt than the beast’s initially cagey appraisal of her worth as prey?

Executive Summary: Male desire is a conflagration. Female desire is tinder waiting for a match.


Filed under: Girls, The Id Monster, The Pleasure Principle

Cuckularity: Sweden Passes the Self-Parody Inflection Point

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Sweden is the experimental lab of the deranged feminist and equalist revolutions. Manjaw and manlet Mengeles perform a gruesome vivisection of Swedish society, reattaching parts until a bolt of lightning gives life to the ünterandrogyne as zie menacingly rises from the operating table.

The “Together” project is another weapon against Racism.

Motala Municipality’s summer home is the scene of a project that’ll see young Swedes and refugees from Somalia and Afghanistan build bridges together.

here comes the cuck shot…

Camp organizer Kajsa Nilsson was asked why the camp only allows Swedish girls, but allows foreign man and girls, who are sometimes much older than the Swedish participants. “In the countries that many of these young men come from, they are used to dating girls younger than themselves, so we see [this] as a cultural compromise.”

“I mean, what a welcome to Sweden, right, when you meet a friendly young lady?” he added.

the very best of welcomes.

The camp is held at Motala summer home in the hope the Swedish girls may create “interfaces” with strangers.

The different activities to bring the two groups together include draktillverkning,

swedish for “rape play”.

This post was a delayed April Fool’s prank. But you believed it, because it was, sadly, believable. Ten years ago, you’d chortle skeptically. Today, you assume Swedish self-cucking is par for the course.

And your assumption would be more right than wrong. A Swedish “multicultural center expert” converted to Islam and joined ISIS. That story is true.

I’ll leave this post on a hopeful note. There are nationalists — aka sane people — in Sweden. One lovely Swedish nationalist lass did her own compare & contrast experiment.

It’s funny cuz it’s self-evidently true.


Filed under: Globalization, Misandry, Pretty Lies, The Id Monster

Compassionate Communication Workshop

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Any remnants of white masculinity in the American culture are being swept away for good. Commenter JohnnySixpack relates,

I was in a “compassionate communication” workshop today (required of all hospital providers here)

To get through it, I amused myself by tallying up the race/sex pairings in the powerpoints. One of the more egregious segments was on “medical literacy” and how patients don’t understand what we are telling them. All patients were described at having a 7th grade reading level or lower.

The scenarios were depicted thusly:

Black male doctor to white male
Hispanic male doctor to white female
White female doctor to white male
Black female doctor to white female

Insidious.

And invidious. The anti-white man propaganda is bad enough, but then one steps back and is forced to ask himself, “What the hell is a compassionate communication workshop, and why does it vaguely sound like humiliation torture to strip men of any desire to express their manhood?” Then of course one wonders if the pegged 7th grade reading level for the typical hospital patient is perhaps a bit too generous.

Ah well. This waking nightmare will have its reckoning soon. The craven disfigured beasts devouring the last shreds of cultural goodness seem to get hungrier with each swallow. They hunch over the carcass of their nation with a purpose that belies any hope of compromise. They will eat until nothing’s left, or they will be made prey themselves.


Filed under: Culture, Goodbye America, Pretty Lies, Ridiculousness

The Interview-Style Kiss Of Death

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Reader “flies” wonders why his text game has such poor reception. Read on, and watch how quickly a girl’s sexual curiosity can turn ice cold when you sound like you’re interviewing her, (or she treats you like you’re being interviewed, and you do nothing to alter her frame).

Hello, I have a question about text game:

I’ve added recently a girl friend in Skype from my little brother’s Internet social circle (she’s living at 1h+ of driving). I was like “let’s add her, practice my text game”.

She’s a cute asian, not hesitate to make sexual innuendos. She talks to my brother a lot, but he’s in orbiter status.

After several days of her accepting my invitation, I have this text exchange, though I was out of state (I couldn’t find anything witty and stuff):

21:07 girl: Hi c:
21:25 me: hey
21:25 girl: how are you?
21:26 me: yea. You look like in great mood.
21:27 girl: Yeeeeah?
21:27 girl: What do you do?
21:28 me: training
21:29 me: you do you train
21:33 girl: yes
22:00 girl: why?

My questions are: Is it bad that I ended it like this? And What I could’ve done to make it progress more? I’m not used to text game, so it’s really tough for me.

The last few times I got a number, it all went down super fast the moment I started texting with the girls I picked up, even if the girl was attracted in person and it went well live. My guess is not enough comfort or lack of escalation (like asking the number before leaving because I didn’t escalate enough to what could’ve been a kiss in person).

My first question is, “Do you even English?” Not snarking you, I’m just wondering if some of your trouble has its origin in your broken English. If American girls are your target, broken English will be an obstacle, unless you’re from a sexy export country, like Slovenia.

My second question is, “Are you especially good-looking or do you possess high social status?” Because if you are as dull in person as your text game makes you sound, then you’ll need compensating attributes for girls to overlook your conversational torpidity.

My third question: “Why are you betraying your brother?” Maybe he’s not interested in girls that way. You should still give him a head’s-up about your backroom dealings.

Again, I’m not trying to unduly harsh your mellow. But your text exchange comes across like a very boring interview, which is doubly remarkable considering how few words you needed to convey such dullness.

Rule #1 for beginners: Don’t ask a girl what she does. First, you don’t give a shit. Second, she knows you don’t give a shit. Instead, try a teasing alternative: “I bet you’re in the [x] business. I can tell by your look.” This is a sort of cold read that chicks love, and will be much better received, leading to more fruitful conversation avenues.

Now that I’ve corrected your most glaring game misstep, I’ll point out that you’re probably on the right track in your belief that rapid number closes without sufficient emotional connection are leaving girls feeling less than enthused about you the next day when the glow of the previous night has worn off. Getting a number, however rushed, is usually better than not getting a number at all, but don’t expect your lay rate to budge upward much from a pile of hastily relinquished phone numbers that the girls probably gave you because you caught them off-guard.

Resolve never again to ask interview-style questions of girls, and make it a personal growth mission to refrain from asking girls for their numbers until you’ve passed certain pickup trail markers, as defined according to your level of comfort, that may include, say, a well-received touch on one of her erogenous zones or a verbal signal she’s into you (did she ask you three questions in a row? that’s one positive indicator of female interest).


Filed under: Game

The Day-To-Day Feminist

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Are you curious what constitutes the daily life of a girl who thinks herself a feminist? An anonymous commenter caught a glimpse of the Day-to-Day Feminist’s paltry, predictable world.

Sitting behind a girl on the bus yesterday, through the gap in the seat i got to see her flicking through her smart phone. She started off browsing Buzzfeed, pausing on an an article featuring melodramatic gifs with woman humour. i watched as she then progressed onto articles featuring makeup and period pain. With a knowing look I went back to my own business. 5 minutes later i looked back and i was met with the word ‘feminist’ on her screen, being edited by her in instagram to make it more eye catching. Shortly after this she began browsing her facebook feed, i payed particular attention as she paused the mindless perusing when pictures of attractive girls came into view to carefully inspect them. The girls were cute and wearing short dresses. I couldn’t see the bus girls face but instinctually I imagined her brow and mind contorting with white burning jealously and loathing.

A snapchat comes in on her phone, she opens the app, watching the 10 second images. She faces the camera towards herself and the dull twilight of the bus is sharply illuminated by a bright flash. she and i look at the resulting photo almost simultaneously, both of us unimpressed by the sight we see. She deletes the image, like a perfectionist artist discarding a painting that has failed to reach the standards of his minds eye. She tries again, same outcome. A third try fails to capture any beauty. She exits the app, putting down the phone, defeated.

I see clarity and ponder the hard truths thought by this blog and feel a sting of pity for this girl.

The Day-to-Day Feminist is the day-to-day girl. That is, she’s the opposite of every principle feminists claim to uphold. She calls herself feminist while comparing her looks to the standard established by beautiful women, keeping tabs on her Facebook neighbors, fulfilling her need to feed on buzzy gossip, and prettifying herself so that she can compete better in the sexual market for desirable men.

Feminists are at war with femininity, so they don’t like this reality about women, which is why they loudly insist “real” women are the opposite of the way women behave when left to their own devices. “REAL women have curves.” “REAL women love math.” “REAL women get raped.” “REAL women slay dragons.”

FYI, the next time you read or hear the words “a REAL woman…”, assume that the opposite of whatever is to follow is the truth.

REAL women don’t confuse obesity for curves.
REAL women don’t much like math and don’t perform as well as men at high level math.
REAL women hardly ever get raped, and the few that do are usually raped by non-white, non-frat boys.
REAL women know that the average, out-of-shape man could easily best them in a fight.


Filed under: Funny/Lolblogs, Girls, The Id Monster, Ugly Truths

Comment Of The Week: It Will Be My Honor And Privilege…

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There were a lot of quality comments this week, but it was past time to give one of CH’s favorite running gag maestros, GasButtox, the honor and privilege of the COTW trophy. It’s time to give the man his doo…dy.

Feminist(butto)X,

An ambitious lass…
Who wants to have class…
Knows that my ass….
Makes whopping quantums of gas.

It will be your privilege and honor to detox my buttox. You will be using a turmeric essence, to generate a nice golden hue.

What put this particular GasButtox sonnet over the top was the “turmeric essence” quip. For those who don’t know, FeministX, aka little spoon, is of Indian heritage.

If GasButtox and GBFM were in the same room together, their conversation would be very entertaining.

“lzzlolzzlol alpha fux beta bux”
“alpha essence beta buttox”
“lzzlllzzllll more cockas for you”
“milk milk lemonade in front go the cockas out the buttox my gas is made”
“lzzl bernankified wimmins loolll”
“a slut so crass, bernankified to the last, perches behind my ass, to eight ball my salubrious gas.”


Filed under: Comment Winners

The Great (Wo)Men On Marriage

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Courtesy of commenter mendozatorres, a quote from Mary Haweis, authoress, who sounds spookily prescient about our current state of marriage as she reminds her readers that marriage sans concessions is a boon for women and a raw deal for men.

Alas, when people complain of men not marrying (even they who are able), they forget how little women offer in exchange for all they get by marriage. Girls are so seldom taught to be of any use whatever to a man that I am only astonished at the numbers of men who do marry! [ed: we all are, mary.] Many girls do not even try to be agreeable to look at, much less to live with. They forget how numerous they are, and the small absolute need men have of wives; but, nevertheless, men do still marry, and would oftener marry could they find mates – women who are either helpful to them, or amusing, or pleasing to their eye.

–The Art of Beauty by Mary Eliza Haweis, published in 1878.

I wonder what the prime fertility years sex ratio was in 1878?

Mary Eliza Haweis is a friend of the Chateau. She understands — more nobly, she admits — that men must necessarily sacrifice to marry, while women enjoy lavish gains and the fulfillment of lifelong dreams when they marry. This inherent marital risk bias favoring women implies that the institution should be structured to supply men with some up front guarantees of return on investment or indulgences to fulfill, at least occasionally, their own male-specific romantic prerogatives.

Not surprisingly, Mary looks to be a fairly attractive woman by the standards of her time. It’s not quite an ironclad rule, but the way to bet is that attractive women are likelier than homely women to have familiarity with the basic truths governing the behavior of the sexes. After all, what kind of woman will be more in need of soothing platitudes to make it through the day without pondering the existential release of the razor blade poised lengthwise?


Filed under: Culture, Inner Beauty, Marriage Is For Chumps, Ugly Truths

The Measure Of A Man’s Alphaness By How Much Crap His Woman Will Tolerate

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Although CH prefers the more direct means of measuring a man’s degree of alphatude, there are proxy methods for coming up with a ballpark figure for the Alpha Within. One such proxy is the amount of shit a woman will put up with from her man. The more crap she happily tolerates, the higher her man’s alpha male rating.

As commenter WillBest explains,

Women are far and away more pragmatic about men’s affairs. I know of several couples that have survived a man’s affair and none that have survived a woman’s affair.

You could probably plot your relative alphaness against what your wife will tolerate.

brothel outside country < … < discrete mistress < rumored affair < open mistress < claiming bastards < having your wife assist in selection of your harem (as seen on Marco Polo).

It’s funny ’cause it’s cruel.

A marriage can survive a husband’s infidelity because the real risk, from the wife’s gene’s POV, is the redistribution of his resources (of which love is a proxy indicator) to the other woman. As long as the husband remains primarily devoted to his immediate family’s finances, his oat-sowing won’t much affect the future of his children or the guarantee of the mother’s “maternity assurance”.

But a wife’s infidelity is much more dangerous to her family’s cohesion. She could get pregnant on one of her slutcations, and saddle her husband with another man’s spawn. (And this would’ve been more likely in the contraception-free environment of evolutionary adaptation.) This is the worst thing that can befall a husband from his genes’ POV. And if he finds out, the whole family may be nuked from orbit.

Naturally, a man’s affair isn’t automatically forgivable. Women aren’t totally inhuman; they will feel the sting of romantic rejection. But it’s true that the more alpha the man, the more tractable his woman. Hell hath no fury like a scorned wife… if her husband is a beta male. Heaven hath no angelic forgiveness like a scorned wife of an alpha male.

This post cries out for a handy dandy chart.

There’s a reason for the exponential trajectory. Observe closely, and you’ll notice most married men are betas whose wives won’t even tolerate their wandering eye without stirring up a storm of martyrdom. But once a man begins taking on the penumbras and emanations of alphaness, his woman’s toleration curve skyrockets. Each increment of alphatude results in a drastic expansion of the scope of caddish misbehavior that a wife or girlfriend will tolerate. At the extremes of male alphatude, their women are complicit in helping their men achieve the limits of sexual and romantic pleasure that are particular to the male domain of desire.

I hope this post has been instructive. May it guide you to better days in your own relationships.


Filed under: Alpha, Biomechanics is God, Rules of Manhood, The Id Monster, Ugly Truths

The Shitlib Face

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Pleasureshivvers draw copious blood in an entertaining thread titled “Shitlib-faces.png“. Do shitlibs — aka leftoids (the CH nomenclature crafted to draw attention to the essential anti-human ideology of SJWs) — have a distinguishing “look”? Why, yes, they do.

It’s physiognomies all the way down.

I leave it as an exercise for the reader to find the shitlibbiest face of all time. Here’s my contribution:

I think I just lost five years worth of boners.


Filed under: Beta, Funny/Lolblogs, The Id Monster, Tool Time
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