A reader writes about a girl playing hard to get after she had already been gotten.

i was fucking this 27 year old who’d just gotten out of a relationship for a while (i’m 24) and i texted her out of the blue and took her to a concert after not seeing her for two months. despite lots of kino etc at the show and her telling me “you’re dangerous” she told me she wouldn’t sleep with me tonight. we went to a bar afterward and i told her calmly i was very angry at her for coming out with me with no interest in coming home with me, and that i’d never call her again. she broke down crying. i must admit i took some pleasure in it.

i did some things well (holding my ground, flirting with the bartender and other girls at the bar, maintaining excellent body posture, excusing myself for the bathroom when she started talking about another guy, saying things like “i will permit you to sleep with me”) but probably betrayed my own lack of options by being too affectionate and continuing to care, show kino etc. she showed mixed signals – kept asking me questions about my actual type, continued to say she wouldn’t sleep with me but admitted she’d lied earlier when she said she was seeing someone, said she’d sleep with me if i put roofies in her drink (weird, but a sign she was thinking about it, i presume).

the problem is at this point in my life, basically all of this is unintuitive, so i am prone to making mistakes, or knowing how i want to respond to something in a conversation and struggling for the actual words. i am also probably too mean/bitter , i have not mastered how to “get to agreement” etc without sounding too appeasing/beta.

Can you figure out where the reader lost his mojo with this girl? Leave your answers in the comments. The post will be updated later in the day. Commenters with the winning replies will receive a stuffed ferret in rage mode.

Similar to a false flag operation, the false frame is meant to deceive a person into believing that the speaker desires a different outcome, or holds a different belief, than what is actually desired or believed. A  typical example of the false frame is a woman alerting her date that she is not planning to sleep with him that night. While she may not in fact be consciously engaged in pushing the date toward sex, the frame she sets is false in the sense that its purpose is to entrap a man to accept its stated premise, despite the misleading nature of the premise obfuscating her true feelings.

(If you deny that these are her true feelings, you ignore the near universal evidence that women who speak of sex, in whatever positive or negative connotation, have sex on their minds.)

Denying or otherwise sidestepping a false frame would almost certainly yield an outcome at odds with the deceiver’s frame. False frames are close cousins of shit tests, differing mainly in their target designation (false frames are usually self-referential while shit tests are accusatory) and their style (false frames entrap while shit tests goad).

Here’s a hint to the answer to this edition of alpha assessment: It’s better to suffer a few beta procedural missteps while adhering to an alpha attitude than it is to flawlessly execute with alpha behavioral precision a beta attitude.

UPDATE

The answer to this riddle, of course, is when he told her he was angry with her for not putting out.

My friends, that is called Powering Up the Anti-Slut Defense Shields to maximum deflection.

You do not ever reason with a woman logically. When she says she won’t sleep with you, the last thing you should do is argue with her as if she is violating some legal contract. You either

a. ignore her ASD or

b. playfully redirect it to more fruitful emotions.

This reader’s scenario is a great example of the incongruence between maintaining a physical and vocal alpha frame while still operating under a mentality of beta scarcity. You can sit and stand and intone like James Bond, but if you chastise a girl for not agreeing to your sexual timetable, you may as well hang a sign over your head that reads “Desperate, Undersexed and Needing Quick Relief.”

You’ve gotta get that inner game down before the rest of the little things really click into place like one smoothly running pick-up machine.

Many commenters offered much better suggestions, most of which fell under the rubric of “agree and amplify”. Krauser has a great rebuttal to this kind of female false frame that is similar to agree and amplify, but takes a more seductive turn which opens opportunities to keep the conversational channel focused on impending intimacy.

My favorite reply is “That’s Ok, I didn’t want to get you pregnant”, which is really perfect for this exact situation.

Winners will receive the following stuffed ferret in rage mode.

When you’re walking or standing in a large space with a group of men, say friends or work colleagues, and you’re talking to one or more of them, look straight ahead instead of at the person(s) you’re addressing. (If you feel it necessary, you may quickly eyeball your intended audience to lock their attention, then look away while talking.) To outside observers — and some of these outside observers will be pretty women subconsciously evaluating your mate quality —  the “look straight ahead while walking and talking” pose appears more alpha. This is especially true if the person you are talking to is looking at you with rapt attention while walking or standing at your side. This social construction pings the leader-follower dynamic.

The worst pose is to be seen walking and looking at the person you are addressing, while that person is looking straight ahead. It doesn’t matter if he’s studiously listening to you, or if he thinks you’re The Man. You will appear like Igor obsequiously yapping at the side of his mad scientist boss.

The actual hierarchy of your group is irrelevant; a woman unfamiliar with you and your acquaintances will perceive your alphaness or lack thereof based on subtle body language and social interaction cues. So if you want to widen the pool of female mating prospects, it’s in your interest to get in the habit of projecting alphaness as often as you can, and there’s no excuse not to when the cost for doing so is low.

A kind of prisoner’s dilemma does arise in these situations. You have to bank on the expectation that your addressee will continue looking at you while you talk. If he turns away as well, some of the alphaglow that would accrue to you will be dimmed. If you look back at him to recapture his attention, he may look away, and you are left appearing beta Igor-ish. Nevertheless, as a general principle, the “look straight ahead while walking and talking” affectation will in most scenarios and most times redound to your benefit.

The one caveat is when you are sitting with your group, or standing in a small space (indoors, instead of outdoors). There it will strike those around you as strange and awkward if you can’t look people in the eye when talking to them.

A dating website which helps women meet the sexy alpha prison inmates of their dreams is up and running, and the hamsters on display are, in a word, rabid!

Canadian Inmates Connect Inc. showcases numerous prisoners serving life sentences and helps the incarcerated find pen pals and, perhaps, much more.

The 16-month-old website, which promotes some 40 convict profiles, has even churned out a few lockup love stories.

The site’s founder says several prisoners have asked her to remove their bios because they have already found that special someone.

There are whole armies of beta males who spend months and even years in book clubs, at speed dating events, and in bars and happy hours hoping to meet that special someone but coming up empty every time, while convicted murderers sit in cells as ladies basically throw caution to the wind and hurl themselves at them.

Melissa, who does not want her family name published due to privacy and safety concerns, was inspired to start the website after seeing similar ones in the United States.

America, fuck yeah!

[Melissa:] “It doesn’t matter what they’ve done. It’s not for me to judge… I’m just a firm believer in redemption and rehabilitation… I believe everybody deserves a second chance.”

Nonjudgmentalism: the leading sickness of a sick society. Or: this is what happens when you let women have the run of the place.

The profiles are authored entirely by the convicts, which means nobody double-checks them for accuracy.

No worries. These are pre-approved alpha males, which means the women will suspend all disbelief.

In a disclaimer on the website, Canadian Inmates Connect states that it’s not responsible for any type of relationship developed through its pages.

And by “relationship”, they mean any love match which may go awry and lead to “accidental” auto-asphyxiation or headless torsos under floorboards.

“They’re taking the chance to write to these guys.”

Yet, for some mysterious reason, the increased risk and obstacles to FMAC (Find Meet Attract Close) alpha inmates don’t deter any of these women from their dates with destiny.

Since inmates don’t have Internet access in the clink, initial contact must be made via snail-mail to their respective penitentiary.

There will never be a Canadian Law-Abiding Beta Male Connect website. If you aren’t a challenge, the women are callous.

Julie Young, a single mother from Truro, N.S., credits the website for introducing her to a convicted bank robber she hopes to marry one day.

“I would marry him because I love him and I see him having a really good future now,” said Young, whose sweetheart, Steve Mehlenbacher, is serving his fourth federal sentence after a total of 16 bank-heist convictions.

We have our first hamster sighting.

“We get really deep and personal in our letters about our pasts and just stuff like that, so we’re able to open up to one another.

“I never was able to open up to anybody before him.”

When women say this, what the really mean is “I never *wanted* to open up to any of the boring beta herbs I knew before I met my supremo alpha king.”

Eventually, they plan to go to school together to become child-care workers.

Would you entrust your kids to these two? Stick a fork in the West, she’s done.

Young argues that it’s probably safer to get to know a convict than to meet someone at a bar or on standard dating websites.

The hamster has gone feral.

“I heard from a lot of people there’s a lot of weirdos on there,” she said, referring to one popular matchmaking website.

“You could talk to somebody on a dating site in the United States, and you could talk for like three years every day after work or something, and that person could be murdering a bunch of people and you don’t know because they’re just some everyday person, right?”

By comparison, Young says, an inmate cannot just show up at your house uninvited right after you meet them. And she believes they would be less likely to lie since you already know why they were sent to jail.

“You just do your research on them, or whatever, and you’ll be good,” she said.

Congratulations, Julie Young, you are the Chateau’s Hamster of the Month! Or, rather, your hamster is hamster of the month. You, Julie Young the person, are apparently just a fleshy vessel to nourish your hamster which squats in your skull in complete operational control of all your faculties.

Many of the notes, [alpha criminal thug] said, were from women hoping to see him at the prison for conjugal visits.

“I already had women who were willing to do that,” Mehlenbacher said.

“That’s not what I was looking for.

“I wanted to find a real relationship.”

A thousand betas wept in unison.

[Melissa, the owner of the inmate dating website] said her cousin has died since she started the website and the death occurred in a suspicious case that she said police believe might have been murder, though the investigation is still ongoing.

Melissa added that she’s been in contact with the potential suspect and even brought that person to the funeral home when nobody was around, so the person could say a final goodbye to her cousin. All of this was with her family’s blessing, she added.

“The person’s still a human being,” she said.

“I don’t think anything that happened that night was intentional.

“Would I allow this person to join the website? Absolutely.”

Is it possible that two giant, feral hamsters, zombified by a disease of platitude prions, are on the loose in one news story? Yes. Congratulations, Melissa, you are now our second winner of Hamster of the Month, a prize you share with the esteemed Julie above, sweet girl who knows those murderous alpha male prisoners that leave her snatch sopping are just angels on the cusp of redemption.

I would tell you to go read the full article for more triple-action *facepalm*ing goodness, but what’s the point? Anyone who isn’t a sputtering hater or a complete retard about the female of the human species knows the score by now. It’s just overkill. And overkill is the way the ladies like it.

In related sequiturs, it’s high time the ruling class ditched their equalism ideology and started offering inmates deals for early release on condition they get vasectomies. Similarly, women with a history of dating societal parasites should be offered cash for Norplant, and those who couldn’t thwart their spawnage in time should be escorted to the abortion clinic by limo, all expenses paid, plus a little extra. Say, two months’ worth of McDonalds coupons.

A reader asks for advice about how to handle a girl clowning around on Tinder, the stripped-down eugenics website that features photos and “likes” and not much more.

On Tinder, this hot, kinda snobby-seeming 27yo (I’m 28) chick’s info is:

“Not interested in love but if you want to sell or buy apartment… I can be your tinder gal “

We match up, I wait/forget a couple days and message:

“So wait, you sell only apt’s to guys you think are cute?”

Her 15mins later (2:30 today):
“Ha it’s a joke but w truth, not on this thing to find men so might as well make it a business transaction.”

Now I want to bust on her for this (b/c it strikes me as ridiculous, and is my honest reaction), but maybe not?

I do pretty well generally (I was like a 17 on that alpha test thing), but this has me unsure as to how to proceed.

Thoughts appreciated. This literally just happened 15mins ago.

Your first reply to her was good. Part teasing, part assuming the sale. Now look at her next reply:

“Ha it’s a joke but w truth”

This chick is on there to meet men, but she’s embarrassed about it and doesn’t have high expectations, so she clowns around to provide herself plausible deniability. If she were really a professional realtor, would she open a Tinder account and write idiotic copy that makes her sound like the last realtor in the world with whom you’d want to do business? Maybe she would. Scouts tell me America the Babel-full teems with so many idiots one would wonder how the whole enterprise manages to function.

“not on this thing to find men so might as well make it a business transaction.”

Did somebody say…

?

Bust on her. Go all in on assuming the sale. Examples:

“If you wanted to meet me, you didn’t have to violate Tinder’s terms of service.”

“Tell you what. I’ll buy your apt if you buy me a drink.” (Obviously, you are not buying her apt.)

“‘business transaction’ gotcha. Hate to tell you, but I’m not that kinda guy.”

“It’s always about transactions with you girls. I can only love so much.”

Or, tease her hard:

“You’re a dude, I bet.”

“Your business model needs work. Show more skin.”

“Apt for sex. I don’t consort with hookers.” (100% chance she’ll qualify herself)

“this works for you?”

“men fall for this?”

Finally, you could just blow her off:

“good luck”

“gay”

“lame”

“i prefer doing business with a more experienced realtor.”

Let us know how you proceed(ed). The readership will be interested in the most effectively tailored response should similar situations arise for them.

Some of you read the post title and immediately thought it referred to Tony’s classic master of the universe maxim:

Nothing wrong with this version of game. Power is, after all, the ultimate aphrodisiac to the female libido. But power derived from insane wealth takes a lot of work to acquire. What if you just want some quickie game to charm the lady in front of you, right now? Zipless fuck game, if you will.

Commenter Scray writes of another aspect to Tony Montana’s tight game:

Also, game in the movies…I never really got it before, but Tony Montana seems to have some game:

He drops a huge neg on her (it’s pretty nuclear but seems correct considering how low value she seemed to think he was). Then, when she gets pissed, he gives a pretty alpha smirk (I may try to steal that look actually lol)…”now you’re talking to me, -that- I like.”

The huge neg (really, more an insult than a neg, but whatever works) Scray refers to is the line (around 1:30), “Only you got a look in your eye like you haven’t been FUCKED in a year”. A line which, if I’m not mistaken, was lifted and reformatted for a sensible SWPL audience by Mystery et al. and incorporated into early ’00s game.

But the best part is how Tony handles Elvira’s inevitable (and quite caustic) follow-up shit test, “Hey Jose, who I fuck is none of your business.”

He replies, smirking egregiously, “Now you’re talking to me, *that* I like. Keep it coming baby!”

Patronizing condescension in full effect. THIS is how you handle a merciless shit test from a hard 10* who would make the typical beta puffboy crumple to the floor wetting his underoos. It says all the right things that chicks love in men: Amused mastery. Grace under pressure. Cocky humor. Dismissive entitlement. Daring. Impervious self-regard. Self-confidence. Immunity to beauty.

I want you to try this line the next time some hot chick gives you shit. “Now you’re talking to me, *that* I like. Keep it coming.” Report back here. This line is a shockwave of alpha. I predict that responses will be mostly positive. It may take an hour or two for the deep impact to scour the needy hole in her heart, but she’ll be thinking about you, and imagining… scenarios… transactions.

You say you can’t possibly utter such a gaudy line to a girl? Surprise yourself. If you aren’t doing something every so often that scares you a little, you aren’t growing as a man. In return, you may be surprised by the rewards lavished upon you by suddenly curious women who have had their expectations joyously defied.

*Yes, Michelle Pfeiffer was a hard 10 back in the day. One of the few who could accurately be described as such. Pointy elbow syndrome nerds, before you comment, please find the nearest couch crease and empty your tepid seed into it. The world of men thanks you for living your shame in solitude.

soul of a woman was created below…

It’s always helpful to have occasional reminders of the depraved, demonic nature of women’s sexuality, as demonstrated by the gleeful abandon with which the most desirable women hurl themselves at arrogant, cocky assholes.

There is no more expedient way to coax a woman to belie her own words than to entice her with the exact opposite of the kind of man she claims to desire.

Horse blinder status: REMOVED.

Some commenters are pointing out that the dude is good-looking. They’re missing the point. Evidence already exists that average looking men can clean up with confident asshole game. If anything, this post serves to belie the claims by women that assholes, however good-looking, don’t get the time of day from them. But we know better.

Once again, science has come around to ♥♥♥♥vindicating♥♥♥♥ folk wisdom and Chateau teachings. This installment of SCIENCE ♥s GAME explores the subtle tricks of perception that mimicking a high social status man can play on women. A recent study found that the mere act of lugging around a guitar case will significantly improve a man’s odds of getting a number close from a woman.

This experiment tested the assumption that music plays a role in sexual selection. Three hundred young women were solicited in the street for their phone number by a young male confederate who held either a guitar case or a sports bag in his hands or had no bag at all. Results showed that holding a guitar case was associated with greater compliance to the request, thus suggesting that musical practice is associated with sexual selection. [...]

What happened was that when he wasn’t holding anything he got a number 14% of the time. The sports bag, though, put women off and dropped his average to just 9%.

It was the guitar case that did the trick, bumping up his chances to 31%. Not bad at all considering he was approaching random strangers in the street.

So no matter what you look like, what job you have, how much money you make, or how stylishly you’re dressed, you can arouse more women by demonstrating higher value with an empty guitar case and signaling (falsely, if necessary) that you are a shredder of six strings and snatch.

Female hypergamy don’t give a shit for acceptable signals of male mate value. Female hypergamy don’t give a shit about societally approved male accomplishment. All female hypergamy cares about is that a man *IS* higher status — and thus more socially and psychologically dominant — than herself, regardless of the measurably objective or amorphously subjective nature of that status.

The game lesson here, beside the obvious one — carry a guitar case — should be easily comprehended: adopt the trappings and the behavior of the high status, socially and sexually preselected, dominant male and you, too, will see your romance life improve by 100%. Or better.

Which of the three photos in this series of the same man taken at different times in his life strikes you as the face of a hard alpha? A soft beta? A man who has checked out?

How about the man in this series?

And, finally, what about this man?

Make your guesses, then go to the original link to read the details. Are you being duped by manipulative lighting? Or does a man’s face really change to reflect the burdens and the expectations of his life?

If the latter, what you are seeing here is evidence that a man can become more alpha or less alpha, in disposition and even in expression, when circumstances intrude and decisions, sometimes life or death, have to be made. Maybe a man can’t go from 100% beta to 100% alpha on a dime, but he can increase his alpha at the margins. And the margin is all the edge you need, whether the situation you are in is firing at a nest of insurgents or walking up to a girl and capturing her imagination for a night.

A reader, somewhat drunk on his own amusement, passes along the Facebook page of the thoroughbred that sired the Kentucky Derby winner.

This is the father of the Derby winner. This is what your Facebook page should look like!

Ok.

In 2013

• LEADING SIRE by North American earnings; 1st by N.A. stakes wins
• Sire of America’s LEADING 3-year-old, Kentucky Derby winner ORB ($2,335,850)
• 2013 2YOs in Training are averaging $264,667:Sale Topper at Barretts March – $675,000 colt;$625,000 filly and $550,000 colt at FT March; $485,000 and $370,000 OBS March colts
• 5 SWs, 10 stakes wins: KY Derby (G1)/Florida Derby (G1) winner ORB; Peter Pan (G2) winner FREEDOM CHILD; Multiple GSW KAUAI KATIE ($633,000); La Canada (G2) winner/Santa Margarita (G1)-runner-up MORE CHOCOLATE; multiple 2013 SW MOON PHILLY
• Co-#1 Sire of Experimental horses (6)
• Best books yet coming of age:
  • 139 registered 2YOs of 2013
  • 146 foals of 2012

So far so good. Let’s have a look at that photo.

Nice. Looking pensively into the distance. Refusing to engage the female viewer head on. Absorbed with the world out there, as if plotting the overthrow of a faraway donkey kingdom. This is filly crack.

Any adventurous and creative readers are welcome, neigh, encouraged!, to craft an online dating website or Facebook profile like our stud horse’s above, except with a few words and photos changed to indicate the featured alpha male is a human and not a horse.

Wait, CH, I’m supposed to say I sired quality children and guided 146 “foals” to their coming of age?

Yep.

Beats droning on about your code monkey career and her love of travel. You might be surprised by how many… ahem… siring opportunities come your way.

Some religious organizations have long argued that widespread contraception use leads to higher divorce rates because severing the connection between sex and procreation also severs the emotional connection between spouses. The duty one feels to one’s spouse is weakened when the primal bonds of sex and the consequences which normally follow in the state of nature are thwarted.

They may have a point, but I’m going to present what I believe is a more compelling reason why contraception use (predominately the Pill) and divorce track each other so closely. For a graphical representation of how closely the rate of Pill usage and the rate of divorce have tracked over time, see this (original source here):

That five year lag time between the rise in pill use and divorce is critical. It’s solid evidence that once women had the Pill down their throats, they began escaping their marriages in droves.

The Pill is one of the Six Sirens of the Sexual Apocalypse. Like opening Clamdora’s Box, the Pill is one of the six crimson spirits that now haunt the world and visit upon the civilized West far-reaching unintended (and perhaps intended) negative effects. Why would Pill usage contribute to a rise in the divorce rate? For an answer to that, you have to look to women first, and how the Pill alters their perceptions of men.

And what the Pill does to women’s brains is… how shall we say… veeeery interestink. Women on the Pill experience a shift in their mate selection criteria and begin to prefer plodding dads over plotting cads. Actually, not so much prefer boring betas as avoid sexy alphas.

Extrapolating from this premise is enlightening. What do most delicious SWPL sluts women using oral contraceptives do once they get married, or not long after getting married? That’s right, they go off the Pill so that they can start a family. And what happens when women go off the Pill? Their hindbrains shed the fog of feeling satisfied with beta male cuddles and revert to adoring sexy alpha male power thrusts, and that adoration reaches maximum cervical impact one week per month when fertile.

So perhaps the Pill and its relation to divorce is not so much about severing emotional connections as it is about reconstructing sexual connections. The wife whose lust is freed from the false prison of the Pill will suddenly, and quite inexplicably to her conscious evaluation, discover her beta husband — the man who fulfilled her in most ways when she was on the Pill — is sexually repulsive. This disgust will reach a crescendo 25% of the time of her pre-menopausal life, and she will either succumb to cheating with a more dominant man, or she will do the “right thing” and leave a marriage that is making her unhappy because her beta betrothed-turned-beta bother doesn’t know how to “communicate” with her and “meet her needs”.

And of course the beta hubschlub, tricked by the Pill’s abetting and steeped in his anti-male culture and believing everything the wife wants is good and true and everything the husband wants is wicked and false, will do the EXACT OPPOSITE of what he should do to reignite his wife’s post-Pill listing libido. He will crank up the beta, figuring that more of what sealed the deal in the first place is just the medicine to prevent the deal from breaking.

And he will be sorely mistaken, and for his good-faith efforts at reconciliation against the headwinds of unacknowledged and often heatedly denied biological reality the state will reward him with a family court ass-ramming so deep and girthful he will come to accept as a means of psychological emollient that his life is rightfully meant to be a dutifully suffered shitfest endured with stiff upper lip. And then he will be a dead man walking.

The problem of post-Pill wives losing their desire for their husbands is so bad that drug companies are trying to create a compensating pill — call it the Thrill — that will reinvigorate flagging female libidos. The intention is to cure “hypoactive sexual-desire disorder,” aka HSDD, by tapping into the primal recesses of the female brain and manipulating lustful brain lobes into activity.

The Thrill may work, but I bet not in the way the researchers intend. This is because the “problem” is not so much low female libido, but low female libido for their betaboy husbands. The added clause is crucial. A pill that fuels female clit boners will reawaken women… straight into the arms of interloper alpha males. Imagine a world of supercharged horny housewives boffing everyone in sight. Shit just got a lot more interesting.

A Thrill pill that tricks wives into perceiving their beta husbands as sexy romance novel stranger-from-afar badboy alphas may or may not work to strengthen the institution of marriage, but I can tell you one intervention that is GUARANTEED to help your marriage: Game. Specifically, dread game. A small adjustment in your mentality and behavior toward being more of an alpha male can gain you all the benefits of a thrill pill-popping wife with none of the dangerous side effects.

Young reader “Barry” wants to know if his Yearbook note to a girl he knows (who also knows his friend “Greg”) is beta or alpha.

Kelli,

It has been so nice getting to know you this year. You are extremely sweet and foxy, I don’t know why Greg would want to spend any time with me at all! You really deserve better than clowns like us; you even laugh at my jokes! I hope we can keep in touch this summer, even though Greg will be gone. Call me up, and I’ll buy you lunch sometimes. [phone number] Anyway, good luck in everything you do, and stay happy.

You friend,

Love [heart symbol]

My gut reaction is that the note stinks of beta. Heart symbols are beta to any girl you aren’t already fucking. Hell, they’re beta to girls you *are* fucking. The self-deprecation is over the top, and beta if the recipient is a girl you aren’t fucking. It’s just barely tolerable if you’re self-depreacting to a girl you are already fucking.

But what I’d want to know, “Barry”, is the nature of your interest in “Kelli”. Is she just a friend, or do you have a secret crush on her? If you like her as more than a friend, then you come off as a supplicating orbiter here. But an orbiter with a sleazy, scheming alpha streak. You normally only see Kelli when Greg is with her, so it’s a good bet they’re dating. Waiting for your friend to skedaddle for the summer so you can slip her the full-blooded chub is just the kind of backroom dealing that will serve you well in future endeavors.

Chicks dig a man in command with a plan, so your subterfuge might succeed, but offering to buy lunch and giving her your number were bad moves. Better to talk to her alone and get her number than to leave it in her Yearbook for Greg to see.

Over to the CH commenters: what do you think of Barry’s tone? Is this Yearbook note weak sauce or is it the right touch of sneaky fucker cad game?

UPDATE

Some commenters caught on. The “Barry” above is none other than B-Dawg Obama.

High school is the crucible of our character. What you will be for the rest of your life is usually resolved before Senior Prom. But not always. Some men develop later, others are able to grow beyond the bounds of their formative years. You can tell a lot about a person by what he wrote in a Yearbook decades ago, and Barry’s note confirms my judgment of his character: He’s a beta at heart who became alpha through circumstance, mimicry and sheer grit. Some might derisively call this a Paper Alpha, but it’s still a better life as a paper alpha than a bona fide beta.

Oh, almost forgot:

Where da white women at!

Sidewinder asks,

How does one do obligatory beta things in the course of a relationship in an alpha way? Wives and girlfriends will not accept skittles as gifts on a regular basis. At some point it will be her turn to pick the movie, and it will usually be a gay selection. How do you share in the celebration of whatever girl milestones she’s happy about?

I recall seeing a good post about alpha ways to propose, but my question goes more to the day to day level. After you’ve been with a girl for 3 months or so, she’s looking for a connection. Constant aloof game will eventually lead to her just thinking you are a negative, critical dick. But being a mushy beta herb is fatal as well. Maybe I’m suggesting a new post “Relationship Game: The Day-to-Day Alpha.”

CH readers who are familiar with the archives know that “aloof game” is not all there is to inspiring a woman’s love and fidelity through all four weeks of the month. Beta reassurance game matters, and in fact will occupy the bulk of your time with any woman who is more than a sexual fling to you.

The reason Chateau Heartiste, and game blogs in general, focus on attraction-building seduction techniques and attitudes is because for most men — and especially for men with a lot of White and Red Nordid ancestry — aloofness and charisma around women don’t come as naturally as, say, white knighting and slow wooing via the display of beta provider signals. The world West is changing, and a different kind of seduction is needed.

Most men are betas by definition, and the “art” of buying girls stuff and complimenting girls and tending to girls when they are upset in order to win their favor is second nature to such men. The beta provider’s mental resources aren’t taxed by spending real resources on women. That’s the beta’s bread and butter. In contrast, the beta male feels tremendous psychological distress when his bread and butter isn’t working and he has to delve into the crimson world of exotic seduction tactics to inspire lust in women. This is when the beta, after having endured in crestfallen solitude from the bar room wall the spectacle of sociable alpha males hoarding the pussy, decides to turn to the lessons of applied charisma.

Regarding Sidewinder’s question, the day-to-day relationship stuff is not particularly hard or incomprehensible for the inveterate beta male. He’s been ready since birth to assume his role as the “I’m a caring man and I’ll be there at your side to dry your tears and listen to you bitch and promise you how beautiful you look when the baby is disgorging itself from your wide-open bloody vagina” man that all women claim they desire, but actually don’t desire until times get tough or their oxytocin levels are elevated. (Or the SMV differential between the woman and the man is so great that he can afford to be a beta.)

But just because that sentimental huggy-wuggy stuff comes easy to betas doesn’t mean they’d see no benefit from supercharging their relationship game with time-honored and field-tested seduction strategies. A man who has brought balance to his masculine force — a man who has sharpened his far-focused beta bonding on the whetstone of near-focused alpha allure, and knows how to apportion each by amount and timeliness to induce maximum arousal in his woman — is a man of such rarefied self-awareness that women will die for him. Or at least defend his right to pimp them out.

Building on this premise, tomorrow’s post will be about those “day-to-day alpha” things that men should do to strengthen and invigorate their loving relationships with women.

A 30 year old couglet writes to Slate’s Emily Yoffe (first mistake) about the strange pull that an unemployed, alcoholic alpha male ex-fling badboy has on her romantic imagination, while a loyal and NICE dentist betaboy who’s practically begging her to marry him can’t seem to fire up her loins. Bonus track: The badboy nearly gave her herpes.

I would leave everything I have to be with [the guy who almost gave me herpes and dumped me after a weekend of multiple orifice violating that I wouldn't dream of allowing my beta dentist fiance to do to me].

Five minutes of alpha…

A regular CH reader, Zombie Shane, left a comment over at Slate (amazingly left undeleted) which sent the femborgs and manboobs ululating into righteous, backboob swinging, indignation.

Two points:

1) Women are incapable of knowing what they want – if they knew what they wanted, then they’d be men.

2) What this particular woman wants is what every woman wants – the gina tingles which come from the dangerous liaisons with an “alpha” cad – not the bed-death predictability which comes from entering into the prison which is married life with a boring, dependable, politically-correct, utterly emasculated “beta” dad.

Alpha cads, not beta dads.

That’s what women want.

So either dentist dude can step it up a notch, grow a pair, and start acting like a man, or else he can prepare [or at least he ought to prepare] for a lifetime of raising a family full of children who were biologically sired by the likes of her tennis instructor at the country club.

“dutchshepherdconspiracytheory” replies,

Oh so glad one of the menz could tell me what I wanted.

Anyone who (erroneously) pluralizes words with the letter z is guaranteed to be a triple-chinned nerdo leftoid or cauliflower-thighed chunkster chick. No exceptions.

Is it the alcoholism, unemployment or herpes that women love about sexy badboys? No. What women love about them is their ATTITUDE.

The attitude dictates that you don’t care whether she comes, stays, lays, or prays. I mean whatever happens, your toes are still tappin’. Now when you got that, then you have the attitude.

The Attitude is sex panther cologne reformulated to work 100% 100% of the time. The Attitude is powerful enough to induce in women a quasi-catatonic, chronically orgasmic state that renders them unable to discriminate against men failing on several objective measures of conventional mate worth. Many sexy cads with venereal diseases, low future time orientation and crippling addictions do well with women because they possess The Attitude, and that is often all that’s needed to outcompete beta males for drilling rights to women’s peak nubility hearts.

hbdchick passes along a photo of her favorite alpha male pose (and favorite alpha male, Steve MOTHERFUCKIN McQueen). I looked at it and, accepting the risk that the following judgment might imbue perceptions with a certain je ne sais queer, I concur, this pose is superlatively alpha.

Let’s examine in as normal and non-spergy a manner as possible what it is exactly about this pose that declares ALPHA in a deep, masculine, gravelly, yet single malt smooth seductive voice.

- Only half his body is engaged with her. The other half is turned away, as if he’s debating whether to devote his attention to her, or to bolt for the horizon and limitless freedom. Chicks dig men who aren’t fully domesticated committed (or can’t be).

- He’s looking down at her paternalistically. Show of dominance.

- He’s draped his arm over her shoulder, but lightly instead of possessively. Show of dominance + arousing display of non-neediness.

- Tousled bedroom hair. Chicks dig dudes who look like they just shagged an army of fembots. Preselection ftw.

- Is that a wedding band on his finger? I can’t tell, but the fact that it might be is catnip to girls who love the thought of a man who is both desired by women and nuptially attainable. Plus there’s the ugly fact that women LOVE LOVE LOVE stealing taken men.

- Short shorts accentuate the groinal bulge. Believe you me, girls check out the package. And they aren’t very sly about it. Once you’re alerted to the reality of women’s degenerate desires, you start noticing how often their eyes travel to the tip of your genetic spear.

- You don’t see her face. Her focus is totally on him, and her breasts are pressed into his chest. Her pose is almost as crucial to the perception of his super alphaness as is his pose. Again, preselection ftw. But not just any old preselection. LOVE preselection.

- He’s bending one knee. A subtle play on perception that he’s contemplating leaving her and going his own way. Or, that he’s about to set off on high adventure and take her along for the ride of her life. Either unspoken assumption is attractive to women.

- He’s holding onto a wall? refrigerator? as if he wants to go but she’s pulling him back into her orbit by force of her femininity. Plays on the female love of taming a wild, wandering man.

- “I think I’ll just graze your ass with my fingertips instead of hungrily paw at it like a lifelong incel.” A man who has plenty of women in his life demonstrates his sexual satiety with aloof gestures of detached self-control.

- Black and white photos will make any man appear more alpha (hint for you Facebook whores).

- She’s not a fat slob. Obviously, any man who can seduce a thin babe has something on the ball.

- He has a slightly annoyed expression. Chicks love it when men look a little pissed off, like they could fly off the handle at any moment.

- The composition of light and dark and focal length is a factor. Note that blurry, rumpled bedroom(?) scene, shrouded in shadow, in the background. What the female viewer’s mind concocts: Ooh, a den of iniquity! Naughty man. *TINGLE*

- Overall, the pose subcommunicates, “I just anally destroyed this woman, and now I’m kinda bored and want to get the hell outta here and hang with my buds, but goddamn her eyes are pretty.” ALPHA.

So, fellow gentlemen readers, if you want to cop this alpha male pose for yourselves, find a pair of vintage Ocean Pacific shorts, Dippity Do your hair with your fingers, swagger around in public shirtless, grab any nearby refrigerator, and lean away from it into the heaving breasts of a height-weight proportionate lover. Bonus alpha points if there’s a creepy mask symbolizing the peeping tom celibate omega male staring at you with seething envy.

UPDATE

It should also be pointed out that it appears McQueen is standing in the contrapposto pose, which has been proven by science to be attractive to women.

A reader passes along a screen capture of a text exchange he had with a girl who has a boyfriend she obviously worships as a king and duty-bound patriarch.

I thought you would get a kick out of this. Little background: this chick ended up doing facials, anal anything on demand. As of current I am in a relationship with her best friend who she introduced me to and she even endorsed me. They are no longer friends and she is on the rocks with her current bf bc he knows she still wants me. If i could change one thing I would’ve  left out the “Lol.”

The reader’s poetic musing are on the right.

This is a thing of beauty. You’ve got a little bit of “Nah” game in there, lack of punctuation game, and all of it delivered with tingle titillating aloofness. This reader has expertly put into practice Poon Commandment V, always give less than you receive from a woman. If this text convo were displayed on a Jumbotron, he would feel no shame, for he would know the audience of millions understands he is getting plenty of action from this girl. And it is the audience that would feel ashamed that they intuitively know this, and will thus spend their whole lives embracing romantic platitudes as salve for their chafed soulholes.

The only question is, would the reader have achieved level A2M had he left off the “lol”?

Dan readied his stick and plunked a ball in a side pocket. Relishing his fleeting achievement, he raised his eyes to check if Nadine had bore witness to his excellence. She hadn’t. Gruff, caustic Robert, his misshapen nose and squirrel’s nest hair coaxing annoyed leers, was directing to a general audience of three girls a crack about drunkenly seeing twelve holes and the improvement to his game that was sure to bring. Nadine was one of those girls, and Dan squelched a perturbation of despondency when he saw Nadine’s eyes shine for Robert’s boisterous wit.

Nadine was Dan’s project. He met her, he welcomed her friends, he introduced them all to his friends, he slept luxuriously fitful nights imagining Nadine warming to him and reciprocating his feelings. Kind, pretty and, lately, eager to hang out with him and his buddies, Nadine was unassailable. Dan allowed renewed confidence in the value he offered her. Soon, he would ask her out. He just needed a private moment. They’d been out together as a group enough that Dan believed Nadine was hoping he would lurch at a pretext to corner her alone and deliver the magical words she’d been secretly anticipating. Dan occasionally wondered if the moment, when it came, would be so flush with spent resolve that they would seal the agreement with a passionate (but endearingly tentative) kiss.

Dan: “D’ja see that bank shot?”

Robert: “That bank shot wasn’t good…”

PAUSE FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT

Robert: “…that bank shot was GREAT.”

Nadine: *laughs*

Dan: *smiles weakly*

Robert: *touches Nadine’s chunky girl friend with chalky side of stick*

PAUSE FOR DRAMATIC REACTION

Chunks: “Hey! Not nice!”

Robert: “Blame Dan. He bet me I wouldn’t do it.”

Dan: “No I didn’t.”

Robert: “Come on, Dan, you’re always causing trouble. Don’t try to hide it.”

Nadine: “He doesn’t look like the one causing trouble here.”

Dan: “Thanks, Nadine.”

Robert: “I knew there was something between you two!”

Dan had always taken to understand that he was a handsome, if aesthetically understated, man. He certainly saw nothing in Nadine’s limpid gaze to suggest extended exposure to his countenance irritated her. If Dan were to count up the hours spent in Nadine’s company, (an exercise which, in point of fact, he did one evening while nervously fiddling with the bracing decision to text her one mere day after they had spoken by phone, the nerve!), the sum of their unspoken love would add to a considerable investment of life energy.

And so it was with naive expectation that Dan foresaw no interference, nor any of the usual social rifts that erupt when the sexes mix, issuing from Nadine & company’s enfolding. He was therefore emotionally denuded when Nadine’s redirected attention usurped his blueprint of steady bonding. A sickening awareness jammed his guts as he recorded the mounting toll of Robert & Nadine’s wet glances, slithery torso feints, forearm grazing entreaties, and joyously faux indignations, each a sharper dagger than the last. He sunk his last shot, and excused himself to “make a call”, which no one heard, nor needed to hear.

Seven years later, Robert would be married to a svelte, head-turner blonde, and they would reside in a charming suburb. Dan would have moved to another corner of the country, met an uninspiring but trustworthy woman, and married as well, settling in a jurisdiction not known for its disruptive temptations, but not mattering anyway. Government statistics would show that Robert worked in a high-stress field and had one child with his comely wife, and that Dan was a productive contributor to state coffers and had two children by his wife.

Acquaintances who knew Dan would say if asked that he was a happy, well-adjusted man. A real stand-up guy, a normal guy. The sort of guy who had everything going for him.

Nigel Havers, a British TV actor, has some choice comments about the nature of female sexuality.

TV heart-throb Nigel Havers says women ‘never learn’ when it comes to men – because they cannot stop pursuing ‘cads’. [...]

[Havers] finds out that his maternal great-great-grandfather, David Couch, had an illegitimate daughter with a 19-year-old servant girl.

Havers, 61, told the Radio Times: ‘You can’t help but think you’ve inherited some of their qualities. David was a bit of a cad, which is the sort of part I’ve played.

‘I made The Charmer in 1987, which was dangerous for me because I didn’t think viewers would warm to such a ghastly character. And yet the opposite happened. However evil he was, people liked him.

More precisely, men wanted to be him, women wanted him.

‘Throughout history women tend to like cads. They want to mother and change them. It’s exciting, but always ends in tears.

‘They don’t learn, do they? I don’t mean that in a sexist way. Some women prefer a stable life, but others love danger.’

He goes on to say that men love dangerous women, too, but that’s just CYA equalist squid ink, meant to appease feminist shrike censors. Men love hot women, and if they happen to be bitches, well… men won’t turn down a romp in the sack with them, though they will think twice about committing to them, and they certainly won’t rationalize their bitchiness like so many women rationalize the caddishness and assholery of jerks and terrorist bombers.

Women go out of their way to locate, identify and seduce jerks. Men do not go out of their way to locate, identify and seduce bitches. (Men will go out of their way to target sluts, nice or not.) Women love jerks *because* they’re jerks. Men will occasionally love hot bitches *despite* their bitchiness. If you need scientific evidence to corroborate everyone’s personal observation and age-old wisdom, the CH archives are filled with links to relevant studies.

What about the theory that women want to mother and change cads? There is something to this, but it’s not the primary urge that drvies women into the arms of unsavory men. The female love for jerks is, translated, a love for dominant men who, in the state of nature (and equally in the state of modern society), can protect them from invaders and sire sons who will inherit the same badboy pussy-collecting genes.

It’s helical imperatives all the way down.

But women also possess a compulsion to domesticate men who fall within their long-term seductive purview. It makes sense from an evolutionary perspective that women would serve their fitness-enhancing interests by cutting the nutsack off their conquests, lest valuable testosterone-y goodness is diverted to the project of further pussy plunder and away from amassing resources for her growing family.

But betas don’t inspire this womanly desire to geld, because betas already come packaged with nuts sold separately. Only cads and d-bags, nuts present and accounted for, send women swooning alternately between depths and heights of ecstatic submissive lust and egocentric lion taming. The lesson for the inveterate womanizer with love in his heart should be clear: Let her change only that about you with which you were already willing to part.

A reader passes along a quickie anecdote that you don’t hear everyday:

I would like your take on this situation that arose with my GF. Been together about a month.

Went to a pub, I brought a friend, its kind of her turf so she runs into coworkers and friends there a lot. Two dudes she used to work with come in, she hugs them. She is pretty bad for introducing me to people…often she says hello to a group, I wait a minute then introduce myself. She follows up by saying I’m her BF, etc, but she leaves it to me to break the ice.

Once again no intro, this time I didn’t care much to say hi, so me and my friend went for a drink. At last call, her and I are chatting, I see another friend and go say hi, she sees these two coworkers again. I come up to do the introduction, and one of the dudes grabs her tit when she moves in for a hug. She shoves his hand away but laughs and hugs him. I’m literally over this dudes shoulder, she knows I saw it.

What’s the alpha play here? (I walked away, she chased after me asking why i was running away…fully aware of the reason)

1. One month is not long enough to call any girl your “girlfriend”. Not even if you’re banging her six ways to Sunday. Already I sense your mentality is beta, for only a beta male would count his chicks before they’ve latched.

2. It’s a very bad tell when your “GF” doesn’t introduce you to people she knows. She either doesn’t want them to know the full extent of your relationship with her, or she’s not sufficiently attached to you and easily forgets you exist. Third option: She’s a sperg with naturally bad social skills. But that’s a low probability option.

3. The AMOG dude obviously felt comfortable enough to grab her tit without fearing retribution, from either her or you. Therefore, he either knows, through her, that she’s not that into you, or he’s actually fucking her on the downlow. Her reaction — or rather, her barely concealed joy — strongly hints at the latter.

4. The alpha play is to never talk to her again. Seriously. She’s a lost cause, even if she didn’t technically “cheat”. Yet.

5. But if you just want to keep the sex going for as long as possible, give it two weeks, then re-engage. Treat her like absolute dirt. I figure this strategy will net you three more months of hungry blowjobs.

This reader is very proud of his text game,

I just had a text exchange I am so proud of that I couldn’t help but share it with you. Feel free to post it if you’d like, but please don’t use my name. Thanks.

Girl: Level of disappointment from a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the break up of the beatles and and 1 being the break up of the spice girls

Girl: …of me possibly rescheduling our rendezvous to next week

Me: Is this a trick question? I loved the spice girls

Girl: Nevermind.  Ill see you Thursday

How alpha is this reader’s text reply? On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being STEVE MOTHERFUCKIN MCQUEEN alpha, and 1 being Hugo Schwyzer situational alpha which fails the second he walks out of a roomful of deranged feminist coeds, I would rate his reply an 8.

An 8 means the reply is more than serviceable; it actually boosts his alpha cred a little. But what prevents the reply from reaching the exalted heights of 10dom is the springboard from which it was launched. You see, a truly alpha text message is one that careens out of nowhere, takes a girl by surprise, and instantly moistens her cortical ham for further romantic interaction. But this reader’s reply came on the heel of a very turgid message from the girl; a message so long-winded and carefully constructed that a third party reading it would come to the easy conclusion that she already harbored strong feelings for this reader.

Evidence shows the reader was operating from a position of prior alphatude, a fact which docks a couple points from the alpha score of his text reply. It was a fine reply sir, but like virtue free of the temptation of vice, alphaness is easy when it isn’t being tested by female aloofness.

The evidence:

Man in the back left can hardly contain his joy. Or his perforated ulcer. His fingers grip his super-sized prize like a rock climber dangling from a cliff face with no rope. He’s not about to let her tip over and capsize into her friend. After all, what is better in life than a fat chick with no tits?

Man in the back right is more composed, and maintains a firmer grip on his ballast. He seems fairly aware of the load capacity of his lumberjack arms and cornfed quads, and glows with the inner peace of a zen master who has touched the face of a semi-cute chick with his peen without ever having to touch her porky wet hole with it.

Girl in the front left is straining under the weight (heh) of her phony smile. She despises her reproductive partner, her grotesque starch bomb body, her life. But she loves her BBBFF who always makes her feel special and loved and free to be Princess Gluttony. Her dress sparkles because she knows how to attract the attention of horny military boys with alcoholic astigmatism.

Girl in the front right smiles naturally, smokes and drinks from a red solo cup. She has stuffed her carcass into a slinky cocktail dress meant for women half her size. She exudes self-confidence. Clearly, she is American. She likes her man and has taken many of his loads betwixt her fat girl ta tas. She is destined to cheat on him with a black man.

The conclusion:

The girl in the front right is the alpha male. Remember what the alpha male signifies: He is the man with options, who is dating “out of his league”, according to conventional metrics of date worthiness. Judging by this photo, the man who has made out like a bandit happens to be a woman.

And isn’t that modern society in a nutless-shell? An alpha male woman smothering the life out of a man who can do better, but won’t.