You can tell a lot about what people really value by… eureka!… listening to their conversations.

Women sometimes talk about sex — and they can be surprisingly raunchy recalling or imagining the details of intimate congress — but sex talk is hardly a major focus of their socializing amongst girl friends. Usually, one girl (the token slut) will crack a joke about the shape of the penis she inhaled and the others will collaterally cackle as part of an alliance preserving exercise. The smutcluck is dropped quickly for extended emphasis on subjects nearer and dearer to the female heart: Relationships and love.

(Slutwalk women who stick with the raunch talk for an awkwardly uncomfortable length of conversational air space tend to elicit disapproving glares and then social abandonment from their girl friends. Chicks have a limited capacity for enduring sex talk, even in their female friends.)

When women veer into R&L, as is the frequent wont of their meandering sex, their conversation assumes a VERY SERIOUS TONE.

***

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “We’re back together.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Oh really! I didn’t know…”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #!: “You didn’t know?”

[twenty  more minutes of delicate social maneuvering before getting to the meat of the topic]

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “It’s just that he did this really nice thing and I really love that.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “mmhmm, yeah that’s sweet.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “And anyhow I think he tried to say he loves me.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #1: “He dropped the L word! Wow, that’s big.”

INTERCHANGEABLE GIRL #2: “Yeah, I know!”

[two more hours of hot debate about the precise wording of the boyfriend’s confession and whether it counts as a sincere exclamation of love. tack on another hour of girls #1, 3, and 4 alternately affirming girl #2’s decision to stay with her boyfriend and playing a gentle devil’s advocate for dumping the guy.]

***

Men, in the starkest of contrasts, rarely, if ever, have conversations about R&L. Instead, what do cool dudes talk about when the subject isn’t sports, work or hobbies?

***

ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “So what happened last night? I saw you hitting on that hot blonde.”

ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Dude, I got her back to my place!”

VERILY, ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #3: “No shit! Did you tap it?”

ALSO ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #2: “Oh man, she was crazy. She was down on my knob, doing this thing…”

[twenty minutes of high fives and rapt attention as excruciatingly crude, detailed account is told of sex positions and composition of female squirt juice.]

NOT SO COOL DUDE #4: “Man, great stuff. Does this mean you’re gonna date her for a while?”

[sound of air being let out of balloon. full-body group cringing and disappointed looks exchanged.]

ONE OF A KIND COOL DUDE #1: “How ’bout those Dodgers?”

***

The examples I presented here are highly illustrative of real life among normal psychologically healthy human beings, but neither presupposes that men never concern themselves with relationships and love, nor that women are never interested in talking about sex. The key difference between the sexes is this:

Women are primarily interested in R&L, and secondarily interested in sex. Men are primarily interested in sex, and secondarily interested in R&L.

To punctuate the point, try to imagine a conversation between men that focused on R&L without any familiar, tension-alleviating digressions into sex talk.

***

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “We’re back together. It’s been one month.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Aww! Tell me all about it!”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “Wellllll… she’s been really good to me lately.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “That’s really great.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “AAAAaaaand… I think she might’ve said she loves me.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “Wow, that’s huge! How did that come up?”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #1: “I’m not ENTIRELY sure she said the EXACT words ‘i love you’ but it sounded like she was trying to say them.”

BUTTPLAY ENTHUSIAST MANLET #2: “I knew there was something between you two!”

***

Preposterous on the face of it. No straight man has a conversation like this with his buddies, unless he’s auditioning for a part in a Broadway play called “My Colon For Old Fags” or “My Own Private Hide-A-Pole”.

Yes, yes, so many of you are shocked by this news. “Tell us something we don’t know, CH.” But we have entered a cultural dystopia when this common sense is rapidly being distorted and replaced by feminist and manlet poopytalk. Tragically, some of the SJW poopytalk is reaching the ears of impressionable naifs, and setting some of them on a course for self-destruction, especially those whose emotional stability is marginal.

There are CH readers with children. One of these naifs swallowing feminist slut cunt lies by the bucketful could one day be your daughter.

When bitterbitches ape the mannerisms and sociosexual predilections of men, their butthurt try-hardness is a transparent ruse all but the lappiest lapdogs can see through. A girl screeching about “opening her legs for every man BUT YOU” is assuming a twisted, false pride in a domain normally and healthfully reserved for men which she knows, deep inside where the armor of her lies yields to the rumbling growl of her id, is a phony front serving no purpose other than blind rage at the retreating world of a good man’s sincere love leaving her behind.

Case in point: The “dick is abundant and low value” girl I had to disembowel as a lesson for the others. With much pain and sorrow in my heart, I took the shiv to her exposed ego and performed a necessary duty. A duty that perhaps would, one day, somewhere, and in a fashion that social science studies would struggle to capture in their arid data sets, rescue an innocent young woman or young man from living by the lies of a loser in love.

For those still wondering what this is all about, a revelation. Above all, Le Chateau abides the Keats’ ode: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” Our glorious, gleaming civilization is getting uglier and further from the truth by the day. A mind full of lies contorts the body into misshapen ugliness. An ugly visage will infect the mind with ego-assuaging lies. Lies must be exposed at birth, or they will grow monstrous and consume everything beautiful in their path. In the wake of lies, ugliness follows like a toxic spindrift.

Therefore, the CH Excalibur… the Holy Heartistian Shiv… drives through the bullshit until the gore stains the hilt, so that beauty and truth may once again assert their rightful place as earthly host to humanity, and the loveless lampreys, despite their worst fears, find to their surprise a new hope for a better life…… or slink away to the icy outback where their limbic disease is quarantined to their own souls.

UPDATE

❤️SCIENCE❤️ presents her rump and accepts a meaty intrusion from yours truly before looking over her shoulder with love in her eyes.

Findings reveal that while communication patterns tend to be supportive and relationship-focused in women’s bathrooms, the graffiti in men’s bathroom walls are replete with sexual content and insults, in the course of the construction of hegemonic masculinity.

H/t commenter Strahlemann. The sex-based difference in predilection for R&L or sex talk is evident even in anonymous bathroom stalls. Chicks scrawl odes to LTRs. Men scratch sonnets to sexual slang.

If you play on Team CH, you bat 1.000. How can you not like those odds?

A good troll should leave the target of its trollery wondering about its sincerity. Given the ambiguous nature of advanced trolling operations, many victims get tripped up by them. CH has, nevertheless, gained expertise in spotting all forms of troll, in part from experience dealing with them and in part from innate aptitude at sniffing out fake phony frauds. Here’s an “anonymous” reader who pinged the CH trollometer.

CH question of the week:

Can a 50 something guy consistently and successfully game hot girls in their mid 20’s?

I can’t wait to see the answers.

I bet.

The use of the artlessly derogating term “guy” in this instance is sort of a giveaway that this questioner is a female troll, probably badly aged, but I’ll take its question at face value because my answer is useful for men reading here.

The answer is: Depends. What does he have going for him? How charismatic is he? What do you mean by consistently? Does he have a huge gut? Is he self-confident? Does he mingle with younger women from a position of high social status?

But really the most important truth for older men reading is this:

The typical 50-something man will have more success gaming hot girls in their mid-20s than the typical 50-something woman will have getting the romantic attention of men of ANY age.
HTH.

A reader perspicaciously noted that not only does this GBFM-approved photo of a carousel feature a cock front and center, but there’s a white horse just to its side missing its white knight, and a hungry cougar right behind the cock ready to devour the soul of the girl riding it.

Sometimes eternal truths are revealed through sadistic serendipity.

Ah, Birthday Cat, what distaff hearts can’t you warm? A reader (his chat in blue bubbles) sends a screenshot of his phone, demonstrating the power of the cutesy non sequitur to drive women wild with curiosity and arousal.

Women ask questions when they are intrigued by a man. A completely uninterested woman would simply not reply to the cat pictogram, or would blow it off with her own non sequitur.

That phrase “…I guess” is also telling. Translating from the womanese, “…I guess” means “…I guess I don’t know what you think about me, and it’s driving me nuts.”

Some more Birthday Cat Game in action, here.

“Beta bait” — and insidious and often unwitting conversational detour taken by women as a means of smoking out beta males or the manifestation of creeping beta maleness in a formerly alpha male — comes in many forms. CH discussed the three most common types of beta bait a learned man of the field is likely to encounter:

1. Incongruent sex talk.

2. Fishing for flattery.

3. The ‘Bad Boyfriend’ Ploy.

These three are the big ones, but there are other common types of beta bait. Readers PA and mendozatorres described a couple of beta bait tactics that catch inexperienced, sexually undernourished men off guard.

An example of beta bait / cougar batting beta [male] mice around for her amusement, which I see on FB:

– Formerly hot cougar posts a non-sequitur
– Beta mouse posts “?” or worse yet, a request for clarification.
– Cougar ignores beta’s question.

Yes, this type of beta bait falls under the category “Non sequitur lure”. Beware the woman bearing gifts of random musings to the world of men; she wants to see how fast and how eagerly you’ll legitimize her empty brain farts. Don’t even tickle that stinky lure with a curt “?”. Let it float downstream, away from you to a stagnant pool of hungry omegas whose rabid nibbling will ultimately make the crafty cougar feel worse than she did before she whored for attention.

If you receive a non sequitur from a woman, the best reply is a. ignore it and introduce your preferred topic of discussion, or b. make fun of it. “Non sequitur lures” are dangerous to naive men but can be quite skillfully and productively turned against their owner by a man with knowledge of the crimson arts. Since NSLs are usually so open-ended, the possiblities for gaming them into a personal DHV are endless.

The classic one is the sad face and nothing else. Beta bait!

While technically this is also an NSL, it deserves its own classification: The Sad Face Sympathy Emoti-Con.

When a girl shoots a “:(” over the wires, apropos of nothing and solicited by no one, she expects four kinds of responses from men:

– Some will ignore her. (A small minority of sexually sated men if she’s attractive.)
– Some will ask what’s wrong. (A large majority of beta males if she’s attractive.)
– Some will buck her up. (More horrible beta male anti-game.)
– Some will fuck with her and send a “8===D~~” in return. (A small minority of alpha males who know the rules of the game.)

You want to leave this esteemed Chateau as that last kind of man, the one all the ladies love.

Disingenuous nation-wrecker Alex “Cheaper Chalupas” Tabarrok linked to a horribly flawed study which concluded that mass immigration doesn’t reduce the host nation’s economic freedom.

The Anti-Gnostic, as per usual, SPANKED him hard in the comments,

These people have no idea; they string together some macro statistics to get the conclusion they want. The net-immigrant countries are Anglo-European with a classical liberal tradition and strong, centralized states. The city-state of Singapore is actually quite authoritarian. Incidentally, Renaissance/Enlightenment city-states used to ban individuals.

Immigration is political and cultural suicide for libertarians. Alex is speaking from an affluent academic bubble, itself enabled by a huge government footprint in financial and education markets. For the schleps, immigration means lower wages, lower property values, and corroded social trust. The academics are just banking on being on the right side of the fence from the favelas.

Mass non-white immigration to white countries erodes social trust, which decreases the support for wealth redistribution to groups of swarthies who act and look very differently than your friends and family, hence increased “economic freedom”. I’m not sure what this Tabarrok-rimjobbing study is saying except that “economic freedom” means whatever an open borders nation-wrecker wants it to mean.

Related: A reader forwards this ROK piece by Roosh,

The Western elite, especially in Europe, got into power by pushing peace, harmony, equal opportunity, and multiculturalism, but beneath these feel-good concepts includes the blueprint for destruction of the very force that threatens their power: nationalism. Introducing massive numbers of Muslims, Mexicans, or destitute Somalian refugees into your nation reduces the likelihood that you will look to your neighbor and see someone like you, a brother-in-arms who can help you rise up against the cyclical inevitability of a corrupt government ruling over you.

Now that you see a dozen different colors surrounding you on the subway and in the Starbucks, some of whom are looking at you suspiciously, you feel distrustful of these outsiders because they have a different background and belief system than you do. You find yourself in a diluted world culture with standardized gadgets, entertainment, and government-friendly talking points conveniently disseminated by all media outlets. Now instead of looking to your neighbor to help fight against governmental oppression, you will seek comfort in your own amusements, Facebook feeds, internet memes, and legalized marijuana. You turn inwards to satisfy your hedonistic needs while allowing the government to run over your rights and push policies that you feel increasingly helpless to fight in your social isolation.

This is all done by design. The liberal governments of the West will allow the collateral damage of terrorist acts because they need those immigrants to defeat the greater threat to their power: national identity. Destroy the culture and you remove a citizen’s motivation to fight for a nation he would have given his life for not three generation ago. Immigration must not stop because the liberal elite must maintain their power, and the useful idiots in the media and academia will continue spinning the narrative required to ensure that happens. The death of twelve lives or 1,200 is inconsequential.

Leftoid elites think they have outwitted history. For a while, maybe. But their short-term gain will seem a gossamer dream once the long-term punishments come home to roost.

Check out the WOWJUSTWOW face on this broad (at 4:02) after Gavin McInnes drops a steaming deuce on a Feminist First Principle.

He’s basically right. Most women (read: non-reptiles) are happier raising kids than they are raising profit margins. Most men are happier in the office than they are at home changing diapers. Men and women are different to their cores, and feminism is a project of lies with the goal of eradicating those core differences. And if they can’t succeed at erasing biological reality, they’ll take their consolation prize by mangling public policy and laws until all men and women are miserable.

We need more hardcore pushback against feminism, and more WOWJUSTWOW faces wrested from the wretched witches.

Related: Sheryl Sandberg’s “Lean In” book more likely to hurt women than to help them.

Ms. Sandberg goes clueless on science throughout her book…

Heh.

Creator and anti-WASP bigot Matthew Weiner ended his show Mad Men, in his usual style of conspicuously pushing the neurotic propaganda of feminist empowerment and WASP old order cultural displacement while sabotaging his good progressive beliefs by giving in to the exhilarating temptation to sneak morsels of Realtalk™ into his lavish set piece scenes.

(For the record, I thought the show was pretty good 2/3rds of the time. 1/3rd of it was too muddled, directionless, and boilerplate liberal to be worthy of my undivided judgmentalism.)

Mad Men ended on a lot of happy notes. Happy, if we judge by the satisfaction of feminist and manlet pop culture critics crowing about Joan’s new business venture or Peggy’s bright, barren careergrrl future. But CH has the Crimson Pill which will enlighten you about what really happens to all the characters if they were representations of real world people instead of fantasy pewter figurines in the equalist’s curio shoppe.

Joan – She starts a successful video production company spin-off from the contacts she acquired as part of a bonanza of largesse from generous Sterling Cooper men who fucked her or wanted to fuck her over the years. Gradually, her female influence — sexual harassment seminars! — erodes the company’s bottom line, and she has to bring in a male COO to right the ship. As is typical of aging, buxom women who are va va voom in their prime, she bloats up to the size of a tugboat, and at age 45 has to face the prospect of romantic isolation with a son who hates her more each day for selfishly robbing him of a father. She consoles herself with cats, her bank account, and feverish shopping sprees, while wondering in her spare moments if she should have hung up the phone as her lover, Richard, was heading out the door for the last time.

Peggy – Stan and Peggy marry, but Stan comes to resent, despite his best liberal intentions, his subordinate occupational and social role to his wife. This perfectly natural male resentment eats at their marriage, until they divorce and Peggy spends the next twenty years in the bowels of corporate America becoming that ballbusting cunt employees will brag about having worked under as proof of their ability to survive the Worst Boss Ever. She has one Downs Syndrome kid with Stan whom she promptly gives up to an orphanage like she did with her first bastard. She ages poorly and kills herself at age 55 on an overdose of Vicodin.

Betty – Betty dies with a cigarette in her mouth, and Henry finds a younger hotter tighter woman to marry within the year, defying his grief and tears and earnest belief that no one like Betty will ever grace his life again.

Sally – The cock carousel is Sally’s calling. She rides with abandon.

Pete – As a somewhat charming, egotistical prick with executive status, Pete is never wanting for sexual attention from young women. He breaks his promise to Trudy and cheats on her with a Wichita beauty queen. But Pete loves Trudy and treats her well through the haze of his sexual peccadilloes… she is after all his main squeeze and mother of his children… so this complicates Trudy’s anger toward her husband. Trudy loves her prairie life and Lear Jet so much she puts up with Pete’s indiscretions, breaking her promise to him and to herself. There is no worse betrayal than betraying one’s own principles.

Roger – Aloof alpha male to the end, (and CH’s favorite character… “and bring one for my mother…”), Roger learns just enough French to coax hot MILF Marie to offer him anal access. She hates him and loves him for this. Also, he comes to his senses and threatens to rescind his Last Will and Testament to write his bastard son out of it until Joan gives the kid his surname.

Don – Don returns to McCann the most self-assured he’s ever felt. He creates the Coca-Cola “I’d like to teach the world to sing…” ad, which catapults him to superstardom status within the ad-making communitaaaaah. He also returns to chasing skirt and charming the pants off everyone, but now that he’s found inner peace, he no longer feels guilt for his choices. A yogic serenity allows him, for the first time in his life, to accept himself as the alpha male juggernaut people can’t help but love and serve. He stops beating himself up for possessing a skill set which earns him nice things in life, like money, women, and beta male admiration. He bangs Peggy across his desk after she comes to him confessing marital troubles with Stan.

tl;dr

Mad Men is the expectoration of Matthew Weiner’s low T combined with his envy of the Winkelvoss golem and his lifelong mixed feelings for his overbearing Jewish mother.

One thing you’ll notice, and to which many men in similar circumstances will attest, is the puzzling decrease in eye flirting from mediocre women after you’ve experienced a personal improvement in your sexual market value stock.

It goes like this: You learn game, or acquire higher social status, or lose a lot of weight and carve out a masculine physique, and then begin to exude a presence, and carry yourself with a winner’s airs. You walk with your back straight, head held high, eyes flickering with percolating aggression and grin electrified with mischievous intent. You expect more women than ever before will be unable to avoid flirtatious eye contact with you.

But a strange thing happens. You are ignored by that undifferentiated mass of HB4s-6s passing you by on the sidewalk. Some of them even faintly scowl at you. What’s going on?, you wonder.

Just when you lose count of all the middling plain janes refusing your sexy smoky smolder, and you perch at the precipice of self-doubt, you also notice, happily, an increase in the number of hot babes — HB8s, 9s, and those rare O’Keeffeian flowers, 10s — stepping in to fill your ocular dance card. And, you can’t help but mentally acknowledge, a flirty eye glance from one HB9 can erase an angry brow and studied evasive glare from one hundred NB5s. (NB = Not Babe)

I’ll tell you what’s going on. Those NB mediocrities who once thought you were safely within their romantic wheelhouse back when the beta oozed from you like a jelly donut, now raise up shields of ego-protection when your alpha aura accosts their blandness. The plain girl’s refusal to allow her eyes to drift into your vicinity is nothing more than a defense mechanism to spare her self-conception the indignity of your assumed romantic rejection. You are too good for her, she knows it, and this prompts a subconscious sour grapes retaliatory countermeasure from her.

You’ll know this is what’s happening to you, (rather than that you are a variable in the simple arithmetic of female indifference to omega male white noise), if you concurrently experience an upsurge in eyeball attention from much hotter babes than have normally noticed you. The newly minted alpha male enjoys complementary rewards of his SMV stature: The sudden interest of better-looking women and the convenient removal of interest from homelier women whose posture of silent, spiteful preemptive rejection helpfully self-culls them from your briefest consideration.

The Spirit Within, CH’s resident disingenuous shitlib (but I repeat myself), disingenuously asks,

Re: The Great White Biker Gang Chimpout in Waco, Texas.

The silence on this website is deafening. Doesn’t fit the narrative, CH? Diversity plus proximity and all that?

Yes, because the massively disproportionate depraved violence committed by blacks, including the disproportionate black-on-white race hatred crime that goes completely unreported by the gatekeepers of valuable life-saving information, necessarily means that whites commit no crime at all. /sarcasm

Too easy.

The Sperg That Spins isn’t even in the ballpark on the particulars of this biker gang shootout. 30% of the combatants were vibrantly hued, which is 30% more diversity than open borders nutjob Bryan Caplan runs into when he’s plugging himself into his neighborhood charging station.

The Sputum Offends, there’s a reason that dissident sites like this one call uncomfortable attention to the reality of MASSIVELY DISPROPORTIONATE depraved violent black crime (which mincing faggot feebs like yourself can’t tolerate): The anti-white Hivemind won’t tell the truth, so someone has to. May as well be the fun guy wielding the Holy Heartistian Shiv.

As for the official CH press release on white crime, I can’t say it better than PA wrote here,

A trap some pro-Whites get caught in is pinning all violent crime on blacks or others. While the reality, statistics, and often sheer honor-less animalism of violent crime follows race-based patterns, it is a mistake to distance one’s nationalistic case from crime as such.

It’s a goody-goody, Ned Flanders trap because a healthy society includes a reasonably managed criminal underclass. Somebody has to rule the streets. The wilder of our girls need someone to be attracted to. We need, in a few cases the wisened older men who know what it means to steal or worse. We need the reserve army of muscle and balls. And once again, we need someone to rule the rougher streets; best it’s our thugs rather than their thugs.

Amen.

There isn’t a single instance of CH ever claiming white crime doesn’t exist. If you read stuff like Albion’s Seed and alternative anti-Hivemind outlets… or if you just leave your house once in a while and travel the land with your eyes open… you’ll know that American whites are already quite a diverse group of folk. You’ll know that white men from the South, Appalachia, and far interior West, and especially from Texas, are a rowdier, manlier bunch than white men from Yankeedom or Mexifornia. But these rowdy folk are my folk, and not the other sub-folk who like to pour bleach down the throats of pretty white girls for shits and giggles.

So you wanna keep playing this game, The Semen On Chin? You’ll lose. And I’ll relish twisting the shiv in your guts for as long as it takes for you to slink outta here tail between legs.

PS Anyone else notice that many of the biker gang members were middle-aged men? It’s like the last dying gasp of unfettered testosterone in this fractured nation. We’ve reached a nadir when the warrior spirit lives on in an aging generation, assuming the duties of the androgynous generations to follow.

Reader chris wonders if IT’S HAPPENING.

New TV show for kids on nickelodeon’s promotes race cuckoldry.

http://8ch.net/pol/res/2090534.html

The official twitter page for it admits to it by implication of their favourites.

https://twitter.com/PurestOfLords/status/600637554853949440

This shit is really happening.

Here’s the IMDB entry for Bella and the Bulldogs. Co-creator, Jonathan Butler, also wrote and directed a movie called The Cuckold. He sounds psychologically balanced.

Bella and the Bulldogs, besides promoting anti-white (and consequently pro-black (heh)) race cucking, wallows in a panoply of filth and lies. Ridiculous grrlpower fantasy? Check. Weak whytes? Check. Evil redneck whites? Check. Numinous negros? Check. Transgenderism? Good lordnbutter, we may have to check that one off too.

Keep in mind, Bella and the Bulldogs is a children’s show. Your little white daughter, apple of your eye and continuance vessel of a glorious heritage of European civilization, sits zombiefied in front of the TV imbibing this sewage by the truckload.

Do the Western cultural elite have a death wish? Do they WANT normal, good people to hate them with a fury? Because that’s what’s gonna happen if they keep it up. And the washout won’t be pretty in pink.

It’s time to turn to lessons from Weimar Republic Germany, and the cataclysm that can bring doom to the earth when a native people feel cornered and despised by their own elite and the dominant culture. The Lamppost Swingularity… the point at which the intensity of leftoid propaganda exceeds the tolerance level of the targets of leftoid hatred… is closer than you think.

YaReally makes an important point about female eye contact, and why it’s a mistake for men to wait for flirty eye contact from women before approaching them with promises of lovey lovey long time. Reprinted in full.

******

Get comfy, this is a long one but stick it out and you’ll read some shit and make some connections that I haven’t seen anyone else really write about before:

For the record I get zero eye-contact from ANY women.

My buddies (esp the ones who are non-white or short, like not traditionally good looking) don’t believe me because they’ve seen me in-field macking girls and they’ve seen me build my value up in a venue to the point where girls WILL throw me eye-contact. But if I’m just walking through a crowd at the mall or down the street or around a grocery store I get NO girls tossing me eye-contact. Hot, ugly, groups, solo, doesn’t matter, I’m essentially invisible by default. It’s not that we look at each other in the eyes and she glances away too fast for me to do anything. It’s not that I look at her eyes a second after she looks away from mine. It’s not that she checks me out on my way up to the checkout counter and then looks away when she thinks I’ll notice. It’s literally they’ll look completely off to the side of me, down, above me, etc. and actively avoid meeting eye to eye.

On the flip side I have a non-white buddy who’s daygame advice to me is always stuff about “man just hold eye-contact and they melt” and it took him a while to understand that somehow a non-white guy gets more eye-contact than a white guy. Logically, I should be the one getting EC and he should be getting ignored. We’re in a city that’s primarily white too, so it makes even more sense that we should be seeing the opposite results. Logically the girls should be checking out the guy who more closely matches their mental image of who they should be with.

I attribute it to being peacocked by default. A non-white dude in a white city is peacocked by default. It’s an unusual sight to see, especially since he walks with confidence so it’s like “huh? What’s that?” and instinctively they look at him. Because they can’t instantly label him in their mind since he doesn’t fit their mold of what they expect to see, they have to observe him to classify him. The same way if a clown runs through the room most people’s heads would turn to look at it just out of reflex. I have a short buddy (5’2″) who gets a lot of looks when he walks into a room too, because again he’s peacocked by default.

These looks aren’t necessarily attraction, they’re primarily curiousity or just a reflex, BUT they DO allow the guy an opportunity to lock eye-contact confidently and not look away and start gaming from that foothold. My short buddy uses the attention to engage people and build social proof quickly.

Whereas I have an extremely generic look. If you had to describe a generic average looking white guy, that description would be me lol Average height, weight, looks, clothes, you name it. I don’t even peacock, no wrist-bands or necklaces or wild shirts or anything.

And the fact that I look like all the other generic white guys ends up working AGAINST me…because how many cool attractive money dudes has she met? They’re rare in general as it is. But there are a TON of lame chodey beta AFC white dudes all around her, from her social circles, to her orbiters, to her classmates, to her friend-zoned childhood best friend with a crush, to every lame-ass dude at the bar who’s ever hit on her. All the guys who seemed cool at first but then turned out to be lame after a couple dates etc.

And engaging these guys can be annoying because they’re lame/boring, they get clingy and needy, the sex is bad, she ends up having to avoid their calls for weeks while they throw emo tantrums or cry about why she doesn’t like them etc. etc. On top of that, who are the primary assholes she experiences, like not the attractive assholes but the ones who legitimately do shitty things to her and her friends? Probably white dudes. Who’s her ex-boyfriend who was a loser? Probably some white dude. Who are the guys on the bus and street who give her weak-ass catcalls and if she accidentally makes eye-contact with some loser on the bus he takes it as a sign he has a chance and sits down beside her with his bad breath and awkward weirdness and she has to engage him the entire bus-ride etc (this is why when you watch a hot girl get on a bus she’ll often be looking down at the floor, not around the room, because she doesn’t want to accidentally make eye-contact with some loser and she’s in an environment where the people are probably losers cause they can’t afford cars lol).

So we have like hundreds or thousands of reference experiences of white guys being lame-ass chodes or assholes, losers, etc. and maybe a couple experiences with legitimately money white dudes who, even long-term, stay high-value.

So if we’re both walking down the street toward each other, is it safer for her to assume I’m one of the few awesome dudes she’s met, or that I’m one of the VAST number of “I don’t want to engage with this guy” guys she’s met and avoid eye-contact? Especially if I look exactly like all the other generic white dudes?

And on the flip side has she ever MET and hung out with, like, a non-white dude or a 5’2″ guy in a primarily white city? No, probably not. She may have an idea of some stereotypes from TV/movies, but that’s about it. So she doesn’t KNOW what my buddies will be like and their body language and vibe doesn’t match the stereotypes she expected so she has to check them out to try to confirm the stereotypes to classify them. They may literally be her first reference experience of seeing one in person. Look at Mystery, you see THAT weird shit walking past you and how can you NOT look out of sheer curiousity at “wtf am I even looking at is this real life??” And if you’re a girl in a bar you want to shit-test that instinctively out of curiousity…but passing shit-tests builds attraction so you’ve just walked into the spider-web he laid out.

I get a similar issue with bouncers, my non-white or peacocked buddies have a WAY easier time getting bouncers to recognize and remember them because I look like every other dude. They’ve thrown out 3 guys that look just like me that night and there are 20 of me in the lineup when they glance over the line and they’re purposely trying NOT to engage us because we’ll be doing some stupid shit like begging to get in or trying to bribe them awkwardly or complaining about the wait etc. so I just blend in with the rest of them whereas the bouncer will pick my non-white buddy out of the lineup all “hey man what are you doing in line lol”. I have to actively get face-time and a few solid interactions with them for them to pick me out of a crowd or remember me.

So there are benefits to looking unusual, even looking a way that would normally be deemed unattractive, IF you can learn to harness the attention it gets you. I tried to explain to my non-white buddy that if he went to his home country where EVERY guy looked exactly like him and 90% of them were losers, he’d experience the same effect and get why girls don’t check me out.

I have minimal to no value until I actively approach a girl and express my personality. [ed: emphasis added] It’s not that I’m unattractive in general because once I approach I can skyrocket in value pretty much immediately and being my charming self and they love me, but before I approach I am just invisible furniture lol That would affect my confidence if I didn’t understand how game/attraction/psychology work, like you get new a new shirt and a haircut or you’ve lost a few pounds at the gym and feel good and walk around and no girls notice you, and then it’s all big sad feels…but because I know that as soon as I engage them and express my personality they’ll view me as a 10, I go from a non-entity they didn’t even realize was in the room to “where did you come from??” puzzlement at how they didn’t notice such an attractive guy was nearby, it’s like I materialized out of thin air to them…and so I don’t care about not getting easy Approach Invites like eye-contact.

Now I could tweak this. If I could grow to be 6’4″, or if I got super Hulk jacked, or if I wore crazy peacocky clothes, or if I pulled up in a BMW, or if I was having a loud conversation with a buddy where I’m expressing my personality, or if I had a girl on my arm, etc. If I do that stuff I’ll get more AIs and eye-contact. Hell the whole PUA community was based around “try to stand out” before you even approach. But a lot of that stuff can be a lot of work for little reward because even with those AIs I’ll still have to approach her since the girls who will approach me will generally be overconfident 5-7s at best…a 9 isn’t likely to drop her shit to come over and say hi to a guy the same way Bill Gates isn’t going to flip his shit and dance down the street over finding a $10,000 bill on the ground because her entire nightlife social circle is often jacked rich good-looking dudes…plus she needs a guy who’s confident enough to approach her. A lot of the really good looking guys you see at the bar who don’t have game and like the guy who just climbed Mt Everest etc. stare at the 9s all night but end up going home with the aggressive/easy 5-7s. [ed: stone cold truth right there.]

Ultimately looks etc. will get you more easy invites but they don’t really matter because you still have to do the hard work if you want the really hot girls. That’s why we say “looks don’t matter”. A lot of these guys working on their looks and money are trying to get jacked and rich enough that 9s will come over and approach them. They’re trying to get Bill Gates to chase a $10,000. That $10,000 is great, but like, he has billions, he’s not going to fish that bill out of a sewer like the average person would. So they’re trying to get around having to cold approach because cold approach is scaaaaaaary! Then they get frustrated because ya they get laid by 5-7s with the occasional 8 and super rare 9 but it’s inconsistent as fuck and they don’t really get to choose. They’re trying to run passive game and hoping that table of 9s is going to come over and ask to suck their dick.

So my logic is that if I want the legit hot girls that have tons of options and turn heads, I have to approach them and express my personality to get them whether I’m jacked and rich or not. Since I have to approach them whether I’m jacked and rich, then logically it makes more sense to focus my energy on tightening my cold approach skills and get better at efficiently expressing my personality and building emotional engagement with them instead of lifting weights and working overtime.

And, plot-twist: BECAUSE I look so average, when I cold approach that peacocked 9 in a nightclub who’s used to only tall rich good-looking guys being confident enough to interact with her, this exact principle I’ve been talking about suddenly works in my favor because now I’M the peacocked one. A guy with seemingly nothing going for him approaching her confidently with game is so unusual that she’s curious. She won’t check me out from across the room by default (tho she might if I DHV a bunch in front of her), but she won’t be able to immediately categorize me when I approach because it’s so unexpected and she’ll shit-test the FUCK out of me (but what does passing shit-tests do?) but if I can run solid game on her and handle her AMOG orbiters, then I’m like some kind of celebrity level value to her because I go against all the stereotypes of what she’d expect from an average looking guy.

But by default I am invisible. Just posting this ’cause it’s something I haven’t seen people address before. On the net we all want to hype up that we’re badasses who strut into the room and all the girls’ heads turn and that that’s the gauge of your game but getting eye-contact doesn’t actually mean shit in the long-run…it comes down to game. I can build higher value by getting in her face and expressing my personality than the jacked rich guy can with his passive “hope she approaches me” game. And if he has to get in her face and express his personality too, then I have more practice at that and a tighter skillset because I was working on that all those years that he was working at the gym and office. I have more experience handling rich good-looking AMOGs than he has experience handling average looking dudes with game and all it takes to get attraction is to be 1% cooler than him to the girl lol

I’ve had really good-looking wings with various skill levels, but like good-looking to where if I don’t do anything the girl will actively ignore me or brush off what I say and turn back to focus on him and I’m literally standing there looking at the back of the head of two girls while they stare up at my buddy like he’s amazing lol And that pissed me off for a while. But because it pissed me off I started getting up in the girls’ faces when it happened. And lo and behold I found that if I pro-actively get up in their grill and express myself, they’ll focus on me instead of him and on my on nights, my BUDDY was the one looking at the back of their heads while they were completely engaged/attracted to ME instead of him…the first few times that happened blew my fuckin MIND. Couldn’t believe what I was seeing, and neither could he lol

But all that was going on is that game has taught me to very efficiently express my personality and engage/captivate girls on an emotional rollercoaster quickly that hooks them and builds my value fast to where I’m higher-value than the good-looking guy who was like “so uhhh do you like coming here? that’s cool…” because he just came from the office where he worked an 80hr week and the gym where he silently worked out with his headphones on and got drunk off pre-drinking instead of heading out early and doing warm-up sets to get social and unstifled.

Now a good-looking rich guy who’s ALSO got game can have problems too, like getting put into a Provider role where the girl wants to date him instead of fuck him right away and he starts having to lie about what he does for a living and pick the girl up in an average car instead of his BMW etc. There was a thread on Rollo’s blog and one on TRP I saw recently where guys were talking about having to hide their success and make up fake jobs and shit. So if you end up having to hide that shit when you get it…then why are you reading this in the office at 11pm on a Friday night???? Go out and sarge, dumbass lol

The reality is that a good-looking rich guy who’s also got amazing game is about as rare as Michael Jordan also being better than Tiger Woods at golf and better than Bobby Fischer at chess and better than Gordan Ramsey at cooking and better than Jimi Hendrix at playing the guitar…it’s theoretically POSSIBLE, if he starts from babyhood and dedicates his life non-stop to all of those things 24/7…but realistically it’s unlikely, because there are only so many hours in the day. If you’re spending 2 hours a day at the gym to get super jacked and working 100hr work-weeks to get rich, that’s all time that you could have spent approaching girls and getting out of your comfort zone in social circles to tighten up your game so you’re not likely to have game as tight as someone like Tyler who’s spending all that time sarging. It’s just logic. The boogeyman myth of the rich good-looking badass guy who also has game is as likely as that All-Star athlete/genius/musician…and hell, even if that guy existed, you think he’s going to be down at your local pub? He’s going to be in exclusive clubs in LA and Vegas partying with Dicaprio lol Your competition is a bunch of average to above-average guys with anything from anti-game to weak-game to above-average game. If you put in the field-time and study you can dwarf them in terms of skill in a few years of hard work.

******

Give me ten minutes to talk away my ugly face, and I can bed the Queen of France. – Voltaire

Anyone who insists you need initial eye contact from a woman if you want a chance with her is lying. Simple as that. Yes, flirty eye contact can smooth your approach, but it isn’t required.

You want the choicest ladies? You’ve gotta bust a move. Women are, on the whole, the chosen sex, so they are constitutionally averse to tossing out eye contact invitations to random men. Attractive women expect to be boldly approached by worthy men — it’s in their DNA — so why are you waiting for a ceremonial invitation to join their world? That just sucks all the fun out of it, for you and for them.

Besides a wispy thatch of blonde pubes cresting a slow wave of inflamed pink, this might be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all week.

Early this morning, an anonymous person or persons put up posters around Columbia University—in the 116th Street subway station, outside of Tom’s Restaurant, on stoplights and construction walls—emblazoned with the image of student Emma Sulkowicz and her now-iconic mattress. Since September 2014, Sulkowicz has been dragging the mattress around campus as a protest against the school’s handling of her rape allegations against another student. (That student, Paul Nungesser, has since sued the university.) This morning’s posters accuse Sulkowicz of making it all up, dismissing her as “Pretty Little Liar” with the caption “Emma Sulkowitz” [sic] and “RapeHoax.”

A new Twitter account, @FakeRape, has been tweeting pictures of the posters for the last five hours. Another poster, picturing Lena Dunham sticking her tongue out, is clearly part of the series, emblazoned “Big Fat Liar,” with the same #RapeHoax hashtag.

A graduating army of Chateau Heartiste shock troops likes the feel of their heavy scrota, and the joy of placing their stones on the chins of malicious feminist cuntrags. For this reason, the Columbia University anonymous Realtalker™ earns this edition of Shiv of the Week.

Shame, mortify, and ostracize feminists until they slither away to their dank bedrooms in solidarity with their bruised egos, or they self-deliver in the gloom of their despair. Cantankerous and cancerous feminist attention whores fear nothing more than total social expulsion. When the tide finally turns, and it will, even their closest sistren will betray them for the mercy of the cool mean girls.

The Thirst is a Red Pillian term for sex-starved beta and omega males who fawn, notably online, over LSMV (low sexual market value) women, artificially inflating the self-perceived price of those women.

The enfant realtalkers who decry The Thirst on grounds of making their romantic journeys more perilous consider themselves enlightened to the bitter realities of the sexual marketplace. As a working theory for how the sexes interact sociosexually, the notion of The Thirst is more right than wrong. Women are, reproductively, the more valuable sex (during their youthful primes), and this inherent, biologically grounded sex value skew translates into all sorts of organic, cognitively discordant social phenomena, such as the factual observation that the average early 20s girl receives a lot more unwarranted sexual attention than the average man receives warranted sexual attention of any age.

Upon closer inspection, though, The Thirst falls short of a truly 360º panoramic view of the sexual market. I’ll explain its shortcomings as a Guide For The Good Life, and why I’ve come to see loudmouthed publicists for the SMV-bending beaver magic of The Thirst as little different than their distaff doppelgängers, the “Dick is abundant and low value” feminist crank trolls.

Why a Theory of The Thirst is flawed

1. Low value women don’t get sex (or, especially, love) as easily as prettier women.

Aggro MGTOWs find this hard to believe, but it’s true. Real life, and studies, clearly show that the uglier, older, and/or fatter the woman, the more time she’s gonna spend in involuntary celibacy purgatory. Granted, a LSMV woman won’t serve quite as long an incel sentence as a LSMV man, but she will serve some time before a sufficiently LSMV dick falls in her lap pretending to love her. If she’s lucky.

Have you ever noticed that one girl in your social group who has a history of showing up to parties or happy hours alone? She’s often representative of one of two kinds of girls: The sexy slutty ingenue who plays the field (usually by free choice that she comes to regret later), and the homely girl everyone feels sorry for. Why do we feel sorry for the latter and not the former? Because we know, in our subconscious moral calculus, that the homely girl is sexually isolated through no fault of her own. Unless she’s fat. In which case, we feel pity, which is a form of contempt.

2. Women don’t value sexual attention as much as men value it.

What happens when you expect to receive a certain type of social reward? You value that social reward less when, predictably, you get it.

So it goes with women, even the less attractive ones. Spreading their legs for a horndog who won’t call them the next day is no accomplishment for most women with working ovaries. (Say it with me: Eggs are expensive, sperm is cheap.) Despite the phony crowing of pump&dumped bitterbitches, sex is simply not something that, by itself, pumps women full of pride and happiness like sexual conquest does men. Men who claim otherwise are projecting their own desire for sexual attention onto women. (Projection… it’s not just a woman thing!)

So The Thirst is not blowing up the egos of fat/ugly chicks as much as its resentful advocates fervently believe.

Yes, a constant barrage of online flattery, no matter the quality of the sources or the wit of the pitch, will, in time and for short duration bursts, play head games with fug girls who get zero likewise attention offline. Yes, some of these fugs may temporarily come to perceive themselves, unreasonably, as more attractive to high value avatars men than they are in fleshy reality. But they will quickly be disabused of their false pride the second they step out the door and once again notice all the men walking past them as if they were invisible. So whatever ego-boosting ASCII effect The Thirst exerts on a fug, it evaporates the moment she enters the field where the plunger splits the ho.

3. Women instinctively know online male flattery is a low investment, mass targeting strategy worth absolutely nothing.

When a fatty gets propositioned by the 200th random pussy solicitor channeling Lord Byron… you dtf?… you really think she takes that sexual come-on to the id bank as a deposit put toward her accumulating romantic worth account?

Yeah, sure, if cornered by a sadistic interlocutor, she’ll lie and brag about all the love thrown her way on Tinder, but in the quiet of her thoughts she’ll know the flattery is as empty as her ice cream bucket.

4. Sexual attention is worse than being ignored when it’s from depressingly low value men.

If The Thirst was such an all-powerful force for NB1 ego inflation, why do the unattractive girls who receive cat calls, on- or offline, from the dregs of malehood feel worse for the flattery?

As a man about town, you likely know the same feeling. Dressed to the nines, confidence sky high, charm dialed in, prêt-a-poon slay, a chubby plain girl approaches you and smiles, introducing herself as someone very interested in getting to know you. All at once, the air is let out of your scrotal balloon. The weaker sort of men who experience this unfortunate courtship stillbirth spend the rest of the night beating themselves up. “Are these the only kinds of girls I can ever get?? Fuck, here I am at my best and only the ugly girls come up to me!”

Well, that hideous feeling is the same feeling girls have when miserable wretches come onto them. So what if 1,000 omega males hit on a fatty in chat over the course of a month? It’s still 1,000 omega males, and that makes all the difference.

When you’re ignored by the opposite sex, you can at least mentally masturbate to the hope that you’re attractive to them in their thoughts.

5. Women value commitment, relationships and love, which are much harder to acquire from men than are men’s sexual favors.

The Thirst, as it’s understood by most of the bitterati, applies primarily to sexual desperation; that is, men heaping transparently shallow compliments and favors on women in hopes of sexual reciprocation.

(There is a variant of The Thirst that involves relationship mongering, but this is much rarer among men, the sex for whom getting into relationships is not nearly as difficult as it is for women, nor as desired as getting into panties.)

This is really the biggest flaw in the theory of The Thirst: Thirsty sexual come-ons from horny men are no substitute for the romantic fulfillment of long-term love to women. Women grow up dreaming of their wedding day; they don’t grow up dreaming of all the cock they can squeeze into their hymenically-unsealed snatches.

Women fear insol a lot more than they fear incel. Lesson: If you want to properly shiv a feminist, ask her how long it’s been since a man stayed with her for longer than three months.

6. Women lie.

Finally, one contributing factor for a widely held belief in The Thirst is simply that women lie about their attractiveness to men. In fact, women lie more than men do about all things related to sex and romance. Are you sitting next to that fat chick as she stares at her flickering phone screen? No? Then don’t take her assertion that she gets “tons of attention” from men as the gospel truth.

***

This balls-deep CH analysis proves that the Red Pill concept of The Thirst is an overblown interpretation of a sexual market reality that, nevertheless, contains some useful truth value as a general map of intersexual relations.

The part of The Thirst that is true:

Women generally do receive more sexual solicitations than do their peer group men.

The parts of The Thirst that are false:

Fat, ugly, or old women can get desirable sexual attention, and convert it into actual sex, any time they want. There is a scourge of desperate beta and omega males banging down the doors of fatties and fugs. Online flattery gives ugly women long-lasting ego boosts. Women appreciate sexual attention as much as men appreciate it. An epidemic of thirsty beta males is making pickup much more difficult for charming players.

Even the true part of The Thirst is subject to circumspection. There is a wild swing in sexual attention skew when we compare women and men at different points on the SMV scale. For instance, an HB9 and a male 9 won’t be as far apart in sexual attention received by the opposite sex as will an HB7 and a male 7. Nor, paradoxically, will a female 1 and a male 1. At the extremes of sexual repulsiveness and sexual attractiveness the male-female difference in ability to incite the opposite sex to romantic exclusion or abandon narrows a bit.

It’s in the middle of the SMV belle curve where we discover that the sex attention skew — The Thirst Ratio — dramatically widens among the mediocre masses. A female 5 will receive, and particularly online where face-to-face rejection isn’t a threat, a lot more manipulative flattery from low value men than a male 5 will receive from low value women. This sex difference could be on the order of 100-to-1, or worse.

The sexual market is intrinsically unfair, so much so that it makes mockery of equalist pretensions. Beta males who are new to the teachings of Game and struggling to find romantic success bemoan this unfairness, but it’s better to accept it as an immutable part of the natural order and do what it takes to leverage the blessings, and attenuate the curses, of that order.

tl;dr

“He’s just not *that* into you.”

Possibly the most iconic charismatic alpha male jerkboy in pre-post-America movie history is the character “Bender”, played by Judd Nelson in the (all-white) cult classic The Breakfast Club.

On that topic, a reader writes,

I’ve watched this movie twice this month. You really have to appreciate Bender’s alphatude.

I think it would be fun to hear your take on him. To my surprise I’ve searched around the Manosphere and found zilch. You would think he would be the poster (man) for the Manosphere, at least Alpha of the Month!

Could it be that CH overlooked Bender as Exhibit Asshole of the jerk with the alpha attitude that is diggeth by yon maidens? I searched the archives and, scandaleux!, an ode to Bender is nowhere found. Pry your eyes, time to rectify.

Bender is the classic übercool, sarcastic, brooding, lone wolf neg machine who supercharges the sex fantasies of girls from good backgrounds. He has so many great scenes of game in TBC that it’s hard to pick a favorite, but this one — a quickie in a closet where Bender responds to Claire’s pregnant ASD inquiry about his feelings towards her earlier trick of putting lipstick on herself using only her cleavage — is (IMfactualO) the perfect distillation of charismatic jerkboy game in as few words as humanly possible.

Claire: Were you really disgusted about what I did with my lipstick?

Watch out! This is a scrumptious niblet of beta bait that Clarie tosses overboard to see if Bender goes all goopy on her. Most betas would promptly qualify themselves, along the lines of “no i was just kidding with you. how could i be disgusted by anything you do?”

Bender: Truth?

Bender knows what to do with beta bait. Tug on the line, get the girl excited that maybe you’ve bitten down on the hook, but attach an old shoe instead and watch her face light up when she reels it back onto the boat, happy that her feminine wile was so expertly subdued.

Claire: Truth.

Bender: *nodding as if saying ‘yes’* No. *follows up with award-winning smirk*

Unpredictability and playfulness are the alpha player’s coin of the womb. She expected a straight answer, he responded with a flirtatious contradiction in verbal and physical acknowledgment. In other words, he broke the courtship rules. And she loves him for doing that.

Bender’s alpha attitude is a fusion reactor of gina tingles. His kind is so rare and so in-demand by women that he’s practically his own gender, a subspecies of betamale flaccidus. Why aren’t there more of him, then? Maybe his subspecies is reproductively self-correcting, flourishing only when his numbers in the broader population are low.

The CH series, Great Scenes of Game in the Movies (GSGM), is a useful learning tool for men seeking to become the charming player who sets female hearts fluttering. Movies are fantasy, but fantasy reflects real life desire, otherwise no one would be interested in watching. Art must contain a kernel of truth to have any true effect on viewers.

Browse the archived GSGM entries
here
here
here
here
here
here
here
here
and the one that started it all, here.

PS a girly commenter (swkstudent) to the above Youtube video snippet, shocked and dismayed by what she saw, felt an incredible urge to volunteer this ego-fluffing platitude:

no she likes him because she knows deep down he’s not an asshole and he was honest with her

It still amazes me the lengths to which delicate flowers will go to avoid the bleeding obvious when the bleeding obvious isn’t kind to their comatose belief systems.

swkstudent, you can’t later rationalize your love for a jerk by insisting that deep down he’s not an asshole unless you first know he’s an asshole. Otherwise, Brian, the niceguy in TBC who’s clearly not an asshole and who’s honest with everyone, would be sailing the seas of Claire’s beaver brine. And yet he’s not. Fancy that.

Reader Waffles tastes the rainbow,

In honor of great scenes of game in the movies I have to give a special shout out to the official start of the summer of game, Memorial Day Weekend. Summer offers the promise of endless possibilities and is a game reset button. I am sure many in the Chateau can speak to the experience of arguably the most exciting arena of game, the coed summer shore house. In the car with the windows down, music up, that giddy flash of anxiety that hits the moment you smell the salty air, it’s too late now. Here it comes.

Evocative. Who didn’t get a tingle up their legs reading this and envisioning that romantic rush of summersun fun?

I offer a game tip, Waffles. When you meet a girl at the shore this weekend, and you will, at an opportune moment tell her this story exactly as you wrote it here. Not necessarily with her as the subject of your story; instead, told as a bodywide feeling that carries you aloft. Then sit back and slip your sunglasses on, because her sparkling eyes will blind you like the glittering midday surf. If your car is a convertible, bonus storytelling points.

Ah, dat jerkboy charisma. Chicks dig it. If you’ve been a regular guest of the Chateau, you’ll know why chicks dig jerks, and you’ll know why cultivating your inner jerkboy is a pillar of Game teachings.

For a long time, CH was out there, a retreat in the deep wood willing to preach the Rude Word to any lost and yearning soul stumbling along the stony path leading to the ancient oak doors. Few knew of our secretive hideaway, fewer still could grasp the revolutionary nature of our message.

But our mischievous proselytizing has finally breached the sound barrier of the mainstream information gatekeepers (and from the reaction to their first line of defense crumbling, they don’t like it). As one reader who forwarded the following article wrote,

The substance of this article will present no surprises.  The tone of the author, apologetic and disturbed by the findings, will also present no surprises.

Not at all. The Atlantic is the latest Hivemind organ to hate itself for falling in love with Le Chateau.

Why It Pays to Be a Jerk

New research confirms what they say about nice guys.

The suspense is killing me! I hope it lasts.

At the University of Amsterdam, researchers have found that semi-obnoxious behavior not only can make a person seem more powerful, but can make them more powerful, period. The same goes for overconfidence. Act like you’re the smartest person [ed: or sexiest man] in the room, a series of striking studies demonstrates, and you’ll up your chances of running the show.

The Atlantic agrees with CH that overconfidence is the heart of game.

People will even pay to be treated shabbily: snobbish, condescending salespeople at luxury retailers extract more money from shoppers than their more agreeable counterparts do.

Seduction is the art of selling yourself to women. And just as it is in the realm of business sales, snobbish, entitled jerkboys are the most successful at selling their promise of pleasures to women.

“We believe we want people who are modest, authentic, and all the things we rate positively” to be our leaders, says Jeffrey Pfeffer, a business professor at Stanford. “But we find it’s all the things we rate negatively”—like immodesty—“that are the best predictors of higher salaries or getting chosen for a leadership position.”

Humans aren’t a rational species; they’re a rationalizing species.

“What happens if you put a python and a chicken in a cage together?,” Pfeffer asked him. The former student looked lost. “Does the python ask what kind of chicken it is? No. The python eats the chicken.”

“You’re like a big bear with claws and with fangs…and she’s just like this little bunny, who’s just kinda cowering in the corner.”

But, careful… all jerk and no softie makes Jack a d-bag.

In Grant’s framework, the mentor in this story would be classified as a “taker,” which brings us to a major complexity in his findings. Givers dominate not only the top of the success ladder but the bottom, too, precisely because they risk exploitation by takers.

All well and good. You can’t expect to lord it over all the people all the time without attention given to your reception. However… if you HAD to choose between being a niceguy and a 24/7 asshole…

ALWAYS CHOOSE ASSHOLE. To wit:

Consider the following two scenes. In the first, a man takes a seat at an outdoor café in Amsterdam, carefully examines the menu before returning it to its holder, and lights a cigarette. When the waiter arrives to take his order, he looks up and nods hello. “May I have a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee, please?” he asks. “Thank you.”

In the second, the same man takes the same seat at the same outdoor café in Amsterdam. He puts his feet up on an adjoining seat, taps his cigarette ashes onto the ground, and doesn’t bother putting the menu back into its holder. “Uh, bring me a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee,” he grunts, staring past the waiter into space. He crushes the cigarette under his shoe.

Dutch researchers staged and filmed each scene as part of a 2011 study designed to examine “norm violations.” Research stretching back to at least 1972 had shown that power corrupts, or at least disinhibits. High-powered people are more likely to take an extra cookie from a common plate, chew with their mouths open, spread crumbs, stereotype, patronize, interrupt, ignore the feelings of others, invade their personal space, and claim credit for their contributions. “But we also thought it could be the other way around,” Gerben van Kleef, the study’s lead author, told me. He wanted to know whether breaking rules could help people ascend to power in the first place.

Yes, he found. The norm-violating version of the man in the video was, in the eyes of viewers, more likely to wield power than his politer self. And in a series of follow-up studies involving different pairs of videos, participants, responding to prompts, made statements such as “I would like this person as my boss” and “I would give this person a promotion.”

“I would open my legs for this jerk.”

Ok, if being a jerkboy is so personally rewarding, the inevitable question follows,

Instead of asking why some people bully or violate norms, researchers are asking: Why doesn’t everyone? […]

“That’s a complexity of humans,” Faris says: it was not until after the human-chimpanzee split that Homo sapiens developed a newer, uniquely human path to power. Scholars call it “prestige.”

There are different kinds of ways to project power (and consequently arouse women). “Prestige” is better-known to students of Game as Demonstrating Higher Value.

The Atlantic even goes so far to wonder if the Game axiom “Fake it till you create it” is a real thing:

I did wonder, though: Could the apprentice actors [tasked with acting irrationally confident], given enough time, come to inhabit their roles more fully? Anderson noted that self-delusion among his study’s participants could have been the product of earlier behaviors. “Maybe they faked it until they made it and that became them.” We are what we repeatedly do, as Aristotle observed.

Ripped from the Chateau headlines.

In fact, it’s easy to see how an initial advantage derived from a lack of self-awareness, or from a deliberate attempt to fake competence, or from a variety of other, similar heelish behaviors could become permanent. Once a hierarchy emerges, the literature shows, people tend to construct after-the-fact rationalizations about why those in charge should be in charge.

“Once a woman falls hard for a charming jerkboy, she tends to construct after-the-fact rationalizations about why the jerk she loves should be her soulmate.”

Likewise, the experience of power leads people to exhibit yet more power-signaling behaviors (displaying aggressive body language, taking extra cookies from the common plate).

Success with women breeds more success with women.

It is possible, of course, to reframe Anderson’s conclusions so that, for instance, initiative is itself a competence, in which case groups would be selecting their leaders more rationally than he supposes. But is a loudmouth the same thing as a leader?

aka the “bustamove” theory of Game.

So what is that special sauce that jerkboys have which flavors a woman’s life? Or anyone’s life?

When I thought about whether I had friends or associates who fit Aaron James’s definition of an asshole, I could come up with two. I couldn’t pinpoint why I spent time with them, other than the fact that life seemed larger, grander—like the world was a little more at your feet—when they were around.

“I want more LIFE, fucker!”

Then I thought of the water skis.

Some friends had rented a powerboat. We had already taken it out on the water when someone remarked, above the engine noise, that it was too bad we didn’t have any water skis. That would have been fun.

Within a few minutes, an acquaintance I will call Jordan had the boat pulled up to a dock where a boy of maybe 8 or 9 was alone. Do you have any water skis?

The boy seemed unprepared for the question. Not really, he said. There might be some in storage, but only his parents would know. Well, would you be a champ and run back to the house and ask them? The boy did not look like he wanted to. But he did.

The rest of us in the boat shared the boy’s astonishment (Who asks that sort of question?), his reluctance to turn a nominally polite encounter into a disagreeable one, and perhaps the same paralysis: no one said anything to stop the exchange. But that’s the thing. Spend time with the Jordans of the world and you’re apt to get things you are not entitled to—the choice table at the overbooked restaurant, the courtside tickets you’d never ask for yourself—without ever having to be the bad guy. The transgression was Jordan’s. The spoils were the group’s.

The transgression is the jerkboy’s. The romantic spoils are the women’s.

Isolating the effects of taker behavior on group welfare is exactly what van Kleef, the Dutch social psychologist, and fellow researchers set out to do in their coffee-pot study of 2012.

At first blush, the study seems simple. Two people are told a cover story about a task they’re going to perform. One of them—a male confederate used in each pair throughout the study—steals coffee from a pot on a researcher’s desk. What effect does his stealing have on the other person’s willingness to put him in charge?

The answer: It depends. If he simply steals one cup of coffee for himself, his power affordance shrinks slightly. If, on the other hand, he steals the pot and pours cups for himself and the other person, his power affordance spikes sharply. People want this man as their leader.

Women want to join a jerk’s world because they want to be taken on a mutually satisfying adventure.

I related this to Adam Grant. “What about the person who gets resources for the group without stealing coffee?” he asked. “That’s a comparison I would like to see.”

It was a comparison, actually, that van Kleef had run. When the man did just that—poured coffee for the other person without stealing it—his ratings collapsed. Massively. He became less suited for leadership, in the eyes of others, than any other version of himself.

If you’re nothing but a niceguy, people will come to despise you because you will be giving away your generosity as if it was worthless.

[C]ould rudeness cause other people to open their wallets too?

The answer was a qualified yes. When it came to “aspirational” brands like Gucci, Burberry, and Louis Vuitton, participants were willing to pay more in a scenario in which they felt rejected. But the qualifications were major. A customer had to feel a longing for the brand, and if the salesperson did not look the image the brand was trying to project, condescension backfired. For mass-market retailers like the Gap, American Eagle, and H&M, rejection backfired regardless.

This qualification exists in the field of pickup too. Acting like an egotistic jerk while hitting on fatties projects an incongruence. Hotties will scorn you, and the fatties will feel even more “devalidated” than they did before you leveled your very special attention on them. Interestingly, this aspect of jerkitude verifies the game technique of peacocking. If you stand out in a little way from the crowd of betas, your jerky charisma will be better received because you’ll be projecting a “brand image” of a man who breaks norms.

Luxury retail is a very specific realm. But the study also points toward a bigger and more general qualification of the advantage to being a jerk: should something go wrong, jerks don’t have a reserve of goodwill to fall back on.

This is why you’ve gotta mix up your jerkballs with some slow pitches, especially if you want a long-term relationship with a girl. A jerkboy can keep a woman spinning in a dizzying drama orbit for a long time, but eventually, should a major fault line erupt, she’ll come back down to earth, and if you haven’t provided at least a little padding for her landing the crash could be spectacular.

([Being a jerk] is also marginally more likely to fail you, several studies suggest, if you’re a woman.)

Contrary popular but embittered feminist belief, men don’t dig bitches (unless they’re smoking hot).

Yet in at least three situations, a touch of jerkiness can be helpful. […] The third—not fully explored here, but worth mentioning—is when the group’s survival is in question, speed is essential, and a paralyzing existential doubt is in the air.

Jerkitude is really helpful to your game right at that precarious decision-making point of your first meeting with a girl. When she’s wondering if you’re an interesting man she’d like to get to know is when being a jerk will nudge her in the direction of wanting more of you.

But can you become the jerk women love? There’s an anecdote in the article about an entrepreneur whose life changed after he joined the Marine Corp. His time in the Marines made him more aggressive. He learned how “to go from 15 to 95 real quick”. He did this so often that his personality permanently changed to a new, jerky valence, and it carried over later into business success.

Learning to become a jerk is just like learning Game,

Without that kind of modulation—without getting a little outside our comfort zone, at least some of the time—we’re all probably less likely to reach our goals, whether we’re prickly or pleasant by disposition.

You have to get outside your comfort zone. Not a lot. Just a little push against your comfy boundaries is enough to mold you into a better man.

He believes that the most effective people are “disagreeable givers”—that is, people willing to use thorny behavior to further the well-being and success of others.

No man is a jerk store unto himself. Speaking of “disagreeable givers”, that appellation fits a lot of natural players I’ve known. They are rude and shocking and arrogant, but are also sometimes surprisingly generous, and the recipients of the jerks’ generosity value it so much more than they would from a niceguy because they are preconditioned to assume the jerk had to sacrifice a lot more “character capital” to be generous with them. It’s like getting a pat on the back from the CEO versus getting slavish praise from the mailroom grunt.

Smile at the customer. Take the initiative. Tweak a few rules. Steal cookies for your colleagues. Don’t puncture the impression that you know what you’re doing. Let the other person fill the silence. Get comfortable with discomfort. Don’t privilege your own feelings. Ask who you’re really protecting. Be tough and humane. Challenge ideas, not the people who hold them. Don’t be a slave to type.

Game 101.

And above all, don’t affix nasty, scatological labels to people.

I dunno about this one. I’ve found that girls love my occasional streaks of sadistic cruelty. Ever play the “marry fuck kill” game with a girl you’ve just met?

It’s a jerk move.

And…

wait for it…

chicks dig it!

(this post was very meta-jerk.)

COTW winner is “anonymous”, reminding the studio audience ’tis nobler to suffer the fists and kicks of outraged white knights, than to sit trapped in a sea of man-hating humiliation sessions:

Sexual Harassment Prevention used to consist of the girls brother kicking your ass. Between that or a 45 minute PowerPoint presentation – Ill take the ass kicking

I dream one day the world’s HR broads have to sit through a 45 minute powerpoint presentation on false rape accusations. Their squirming would be, in a word, delicious!

***

shartiste is our COTW runner-up,

Its nice how “don’t marry the bad boys” is framed as the girl’s choice. They’re “bad boys” because they won’t marry you.

Right-o. Sheryl Sandberg is blowing smoke up everyone’s skirt. Women pursuing the “apha fux beta bux” strategy don’t refuse to marry the badboys; the badboys refuse to marry the women. Even arid studies confirm this observed reality.

***

Arbiter wins the CH consolation COTW (keep trying, commentbrah!):

This is what the puritan tradcons don’t understand, with their constant “Game is putting women on a pedestal”, “Game is meaningless sex and adultery”, “Game is faking and lying”. No. Game is about making it possible for a man to choose, instead of waiting to be chosen.

Pithy. Even if a man isn’t choosing his dating market options 100% of the time, a small improvement in the amount of control he has over who he dates can mean the difference between settling in legally-bound misery with a fat cow or cohabitating with a cutie outside the reach of the law. In the sexual market, the slimmest margins matter.

Reader Chris from Dublin pens a stirring love letter to one of 20th Century filmdom’s most iconic (and loveable) alpha male jerkboys, and in the penning touches upon the abiding Heartistian sexual market truths that infuse the movie The Breakfast Club.

It was really only a matter of time before the Chateau would focus on John Bender of ‘The Breakfast Club’.

John Bender , brilliantly played by Judd Nelson (who was 26 at the time of shooting), easily ranks alongside Marlon Brando in ‘The Wild One’ and James Dean in ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ as one of the great cinema badboys, arguably the best of all because of his gritty suburban realism. It is deplorable that Nelson was not at least nominated for an Oscar for his performance and if he does no other work of note, ‘The Breakfast Club’ remains an outstanding achievement of his.

‘The Breakfast Club’ is John Hughes’s best film with a completeness that his other great work, ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, slightly lacks. What both films share is an enigmatic and deeply charismatic central character around whom the rest of the film orbits. ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ lacks the ensemble quality of script or performance of ‘The Breakfast Club’ and is also more of a straightforward fantasy (with it being generally accepted that Ferris Bueller is Cameron’s alter-ego, the man who the trapped and frustrated Cameron wants to be). Ferris Bueller is a far less likeable character than John Bender and, although no high-school bowsie like Bender would, in real life, possess the wit and articulacy that Nelson’s character has, this is no shortcoming of the film – it is, as the Chateau points out, a fantasy.

John Bender has an advantage over the characters played by Brando and Dean because, if for no other reason, ‘The Breakfast Club’ has a higher production standard than those films of the 1950’s and, as such, it is easier to watch. By the time John Hughes came around to the height of his career a more liberal attitude and practice had entered mainstream cinema allowing ‘The Breakfast Club’ to use explicit language and themes which would not have been considered in the 1950’s.

In terms of finding alpha moments, ‘The Breakfast Club’ has probably one of the richest repositories of such of any mainstream film. Bender spends nearly all of the film pissing off Princess Claire (Molly Ringwald) but the sexual tension between them grows incrementally and it becomes more and more obvious that Bender has seriously burrowed into her psyche – hear those tingles chime. When Brian interrupts their sexy ‘Moliere’ moment, Bender flings a damaged book at him in rage, but the sexual frisson is unmistakable.

As interesting is the vicious rivalry between Bender and Andrew Clarke (played by Emilio Estevez), the straight and serious beta jock who initially hits on Claire but gets politely declined.

Here’s why ‘The Breakfast Club’ is such a hit – it depicts the three levels of existence:-

Alpha: Bender and Claire
Beta: Andrew / Sporto and Alison / Emo (and they end up getting it on together by the end. Classic beta – Andrew doesn’t get alpha girl and has to settle).
Omega: Brian (who ends up getting nobody).

In that regard it is wrong to describe Brian as the beta nice-guy – Brian is the omega, while Andrew is the beta. Brian knows that he has no chance with an alpha female like Claire and can only fantasise, as Bender exposes him for doing, to his even greater shame. Andrew is not a nice-guy as such but he is a beta insofar as he is committed to conforming and playing within the system. Also his particular type of beta-dom manifests as butt-hurt and bitter rather than ‘nice-guy’. Remember that Brian ended up in detention for having a gun in his locker because he wanted to commit suicide. Andrew ended up in detention because he attacked a weaker boy in the locker room, very likely a subconscious manifestation of his frustration at having been pushed into an athletic lifestyle, to get a scholarship, that he did not want. Indeed, Bender makes a laugh of this scholarship nonsense during the film when he arses around in the gym and is taunting the deputy principal. This is another instance of Bender’s alpha-dom – he has taken a hit for the group by distracting the deputy principal (a great performance from Paul Gleason) while he lays on cannabis for the rest of the group (and see how that would go down in today’s America … !) As an alpha, the young prince is bestowing his weed upon the minions.

This film was released in 1985 and I remember that it made a huge impression upon us over here in Ireland – we were amazed to see how short Judd Nelson really is in real life (the photography had hidden this very well). At the time I was twelve, attending a bourgeois Roman catholic all-boys’ secondary school in Dublin, and Bender was like something from the space age, the man we all wanted to be, or to have like us. In hindsight our school was a deeply damaging environment of papist omega-dom and, in particular, our form teacher was a disgusting omega worm – unmarried, he spent his whole life in the school, engaged in the various ‘activities’ that seem to obsess such places and he boasted of how he had devoted himself to the “welfare of the boys” (* crickets *). I hated him from the start and it is interesting to recall that the other John Bender types at school felt the same way, and wanted nothing to do with him. That school was no proper environment for any impressionable teenage boy and it is significant that I felt the same way then as I do now, in my forties. As a place where adolescents could be moulded to cope with the realities of life it was hopeless and was no example for any boy.

Ultimately John Bender will always be a fantasy character, as the Chateau freely admits, but his defiance remains as inspirational and relevant today as ever before, leaving ‘The Breakfast Club’ as one of the greatest teen movies of all time.

Although the term beta gets tossed around here a bit cavalierly (as a matter of convenience and artistic license), in reality most beta males will wind up with a girl in their lives. The problem is that it will rarely be their first choice. (Omega males are the men who can spend years tormented by their incel.)

Game, or learned charisma, offers beta males the tools to increase their dating market purchasing power and thus to decrease the odds they will have to settle, or to settle very far down the female ladder. Charisma can help all men, but I believe the biggest benefactors are betas, due in part to their lower initial obstacles and to the law of diminishing returns (that latter being the reason why natural alphas are often given to scoffing at game).

In TBC, Bender was an alpha male… he got the hot girl that other guys wanted. Bender was also a specific class of alpha: The lone wolf, rule-breaking, leader of women alpha male who, I understand, would be called a Sigma Male by Vox Day.

In every respect, Bender was that cynical, aloof jerkboy chicks have a habit of falling hard for. He may not have been the most noble, or admirable, or competent man — he may even have had his personal moral and character failings that would disqualify him from leading men — but no one ever claimed that the alpha male was necessarily a paragon of virtue, nor that women would never choose men of Bender’s unruly temperament and poor character over better men. If we were to judge women’s characters by the men for whom they freely divulge their sex, I’d say the ledger of self-abasement is represented equally by the sexes.

Off-topic, Chris adds,

***** OTHER NEWS:-

Social meltdown has hit Ireland. There is a level of social unrest across middle Ireland, across the type of people who would never cause trouble in their wildest dreams, that is unprecedented. There is a particular type of person who, when they become angry, release all hell. It’s not entering the mainstream media of the UK or North America, because the powers that be are too scared. When Ireland explodes it will take the rest of the world with it – it’s begun.

Look up “Irish Water” and “Irish Water protests”.

Bring the flames …

Any Irish CH readers know something about this? What a teaser…

CH answered this post title’s question already in the seminal “Dating Market Value for Women” at-home quiz, and in this post defining the qualifications of the “alpha female”, but feminists and male feminists continue to insist against the bleedingly obvious real world evidence that men desire smarts in women over and above all other mate value considerations. For instance, the latest garbage study purporting a strong male desire for female IQ is about as flawed as a self-report sex survey can get.

Instead of writing a draining exegesis on why smarts don’t matter much to women’s romantic fortunes —

executive summary: a woman’s IQ has little impact on her short- OR long-term desirability to men unless she’s beyond the comfort zone of intelligence compatibility with the man she’s dating; i.e. around 15 or more IQ points above or below the man’s IQ

— I’ll just reprint a Telegraph commenter’s witty response on the topic.

awesome research – it validates the view that porn has no future on the internet

So much feminist-friendly “””research””” has upon later inspection turned out to traffic in horribly flawed premises and methodology that it’s a good bet to prejudice any social science study issuing from an Anglo university with at least one Scandinavian- or Eskimo-sounding female name in the author list as worthless.

UPDATE

Commenter Arbiter does the hard work debunking this feminist study that I wasn’t willing to do.

All right, let’s take apart the Telegraph article:

1. Journalist Sarah Knapton has talked to a Professor David Bainbridge. So you would expect some strong scientific research to back up his claim, right? No. “Surveys have shown time and time again that this is the first thing that men look for.” You don’t even get to see the surveys. Nor do you get any mention of the fact that what people say in a survey doesn’t mean it’s true, especially not in a leftist climate that pressures them to ignore nature.

2. Bainbridge sets up a strawman to attack: it’s “large breasts and long legs” vs. intelligence. This is even in the title. He knocks large knockers by saying it’s not big breasts men want but symmetrical breasts, and he knocks long legs by saying it is straight legs men want, not long ones.

Ergo, men value intelligence instead of looks! Right? If you ignore the little fact that he just mentioned physical traits that men desire: symmetrical breasts and legs that are not crooked.

Far down in the article we also get this: “However men do like women to be curvaceous with voluptuous thighs and bottoms, and a waist that is much slimmer than their hips..” So the “men really look for intelligence, not beauty” theme that the article starts with is nonsense, even by the writer’s own admission. But this comes far down in the story.

3. The real “proof” to grab people’s attention is George Clooney. The article begins with a picture of him and Lebanese wifey Amal Alamuddin. Sarah Knapton writes under the picture: “Despite dating a string of attractive women George Clooney settled down with human rights barrister Amal Alamuddin”. They are mentioned again farther down in the article, and Alamuddin’s picture appears again.

No longer do you need to study thousands of people, you only need to look at one person’s choice. If you are the science editor at The Telegraph.

But not even this one example proves anything: Alamuddin doesn’t look bad for her age. She also no doubt shares Clooney’s socialist preferences, and his anti-White ideology served well by marrying a non-White. So looks, check, and compatible personalities, check. Furthermore, that she is a “human rights barrister” doesn’t mean she would be brimming with intelligence for Clooney to lust for. Probably she just has enough intelligence to be close to him on the scale.

Alamuddin is one of the worst exhibits the feminists could use to buttress their “men love SMRT women!” psychological projection. She’s hotter than 90% of women her age. And, lest the fact escape anyone, she’s also 17? years younger than Clooney.