Thursday, June 20, 2013

Girls losing weight

If you've read much of this blog, one thing you will begin to realize about me is that I get off on watching women fuck their heads up trying to figure me out.  I don't mean that in any kind of playful way.  I mean it the worst kinda "throw her in a pit and watch her suffer" way possible.  It's probably the central conceit of my existence.

If possible, I like to keep track of the women who have been in my life long after they've suffered enough and moved on.  Since women are nice enough to not really understand what the fuck ever happened in their relationships with me, I generally am in a position to observe them from the role of some kind of friend.  Plus, people tell me lots of shit they shouldn't.  So, friends of friends make wonderful resources for deep mining LOLs and finding examples of further self-torture on my behalf.  In other words, just my kinda kink.

Lately, I have noticed a trend.  Almost every chick who has given up and moved on from me ends up losing weight.  And not a single one has ever put on weight.  Not even the ones who married and had kids.  The ones who lost weight started doing it right away.  And not one started dating a guy who was better looking than me.  In fact, most went down the scale more than a full point.  In other words, almost every chick who has ever been involved with me decided to get in better shape and aim lower.  Even if you expand the circle to those chick I never gave any play, you can only pick up a single chick who put on weight, and none who went for a better option.

As you can imagine, my inner narcissist was eating this shit up, once I started thinking about it.  Every chick I have ever been involved with -- at least of those I can still keep tabs on -- decided to up her game and lower her target after dealing with me.  In short, I broke every fucking one of them.  :-P  Every chick who has ever been with me has done her best to improve her game and lower her target option.

Yeah, that makes me happy.  I admit it.  I am a broken motherfucker.  There's something perversely appealing about the idea that, for women who escape my orbit, I represent peak alpha.

Women like to give me shit, right up until they see I am serious about leaving.  The problem is, I don't make idle threats.  And I don't do blackmail.  Once I get up to leave, I am gone.  It's no longer negotiable, in my mind, because I don't want to live my life bouncing from one conflict to the next. 

You absolutely cannot reward a woman for caving to your demands.  If she makes the mistake of forcing you to take action, you burn everything to the ground and you shoot all the hostages.  Otherwise, you will get caught in an endless cycle of childish drama.  She will do stupid shit to instigate your alpha behavior.  You threaten to leave.  She caves.  Rinse and repeat.

Fuck that.  That's no way to live.

My approach is simple.  I see drama, I leave.  End of fucking subject.  When she asks why I am leaving, I tell her because I don't intend to live my life that way.  When she offers to cave, I still just leave.  If I do decide to take advantage of her caving, I then proceed to fuck her and then I leave and it ends there.  All she gets to show for it is a hollow, used feeling.

So, yeah, you see how I am still single.  I don't stand for women's bullshit.  And I am more than willing to torch a relationship at the slightest sign it might be inconvenient for me.

And you know the best part?  Guess who she blames for it?  Herself.  I've had a few conversations with chicks that amounted to "Why did things turn out that way?"  Or its even funnier version, titled "Why are you so mean?"  Or, a personal favorite of mine, "I woke up and you weren't here."

If a chick ever throws you one of these lines, it's a total fishing expedition in the hope she can reconnect with you.  It's probably easier for me to have a convo like that, because I am committed to thoroughly burning bridges with no intent of ever returning.  She can feel free to talk to me from her side of the river.  Don't ever expect to be standing on my side ever the fuck again.  For guys who are a bit emotionally softer than me, all I can say is "Good luck with that; it's not going to end well, because you can't reward a bitch for causing drama."

I know, a lot of women are shaking their heads at that idea.  "You can't lead your life without forgiveness."  My answer?  Yes, I can.  Because, I don't care if I die alone.  You're an accessory, not a necessity, in my life.

I can remember one chick who decided to use refusal of sex as leverage against me.  Big fucking mistake.  I don't suffer emotional blackmail at all.  In my book, emotional blackmail is a default lose  for a chick.  The minute it happens, I am fucking gone.

As the conversation rolled along, it became clear she figured out what a mistake it was.  She admitted she should have done things my way.  I told her she should remember that when she pisses off the next guy in her life.

One thing I have always hated about women is how comfortable they are trying to game men.  You can tell they get away with this shit all the time.  They never think I'm serious when I go to leave.  And then I leave.  A couple days later, there's the "Hey . . . thought about it" text.  As if I give a fuck.  By that point, I've deleted all your nude pics from my phone.  Hell, I've probably deleted your number.  Women only pull this shit because men let them get away with it.

That's why it interests me what a chick does afterward.  I find it fascinating that their response is to lose weight and aim lower.  Apparently, once a guy gives a chick a thorough emotional abandoning as the reward for making drama, she will decide to tighten her game and open her options.  I'd kill to know the relationships these chicks are having, to see whether they're pulling drama on these guys, too.  From everything that comes back to me, most of these chicks dial it the fuck down a lot.  But, relationships are hard to gauge from the outside.  So . . . ya never know.

Roissy, who is the mad emperor of the militant, nationalistc, right-wing PUA blogosphere, pimps an idea I firmly believe.  He calls it "five minutes of alpha".  The basic idea is that women will take a couple minutes of an alpha male in their life over a lifetime of thoughtful providership, no matter how shitty the alpha male may actually have been

Anyone who has ever watched Dr. Phil will know what he means.  The dude who breaks his wife jaw will have her sitting there pining for him, even after he has moved on.  The dude who is begging his wife to keep shit together will have him sleeping on the couch, no matter how good he is to her.  I'm not advocating breaking a chick's jaw, but you're living in la-la land if you never realized how widespread this problem is.

I don't really ever enter or exit relationships.  One thing that I know women positively fucking hate about me is the lack of definitions every encounter with me has.  I don't do dates.  I just go out and things happen.  I never say "I love you" (as in, I have never ever said that phrase to a chick in a romantic context).  And I don't do break-ups.  I just stop texting or seeking you out. 

You never have a moment you can call the first date.  You never have a moment you can say, "That's when I knew we were in love."  You never know quite whether it ended when it ends.  It just ends up being the realization, a few days later, of "Oh . . ."  You know when you first fucked me and that's about all you walk away with.

And the woman's solution to me is?  Get leaner.  Aim for a man she can nail down.

Lessons for guys?

First, you can overdo alpha.  That's pretty much the story of my entire sexual life.  Women push me.  They eat the emotional bruises.  I walk away without any offer of repair.  It's a formula for permanent bachelorhood.

Second, women do learn.  But, only if they have been torpedoed by an alpha male.  Men learn from success with hot chicks.  Women learn from failure with alpha males.  That's how the sexual marketplace arrives at final price settlement.  Women that always succeed with alpha males never learn.  Men who always fail with hot chicks never learn. 

Third, women are aware of their weight as a factor.

Fourth, women are aware that pissing a man off is a bad idea.  They just have gotten so used to pushing men around that they're dumb to the idea they can push a man they want away by trying to game him.  Worse, they have learned the terrible lesson that they can easily lure him back if they push him too far.

Fifth, live life on your own terms.  Everyone is going to die alone.  You're not going to see ten generations of your progeny.  There is no heaven and there is no resurrection.  So, don't let other people's shit fuck your shit up for the one life you do have.

The next time you see a chick say no to a cheeseburger, think about the nice man who probably walked away from her with no explanation.

Fun search queries

If you read this blog much, you know I like to look at the stats page to see what all you folks are ambling around the web trying to find.

This one I present for the consideration of all:

"i only like aloof men"

Actual search query that landed at this blog. I still shake my head at the fact this blog's audience skews female.  I mean, I get the whole logic that women like aloof guys.  I just wonder where a chick is at in her life that she's searching a phrase like "i only like aloof men" without considering that's probably a problem.

Oh well . . . It's not my world.  I just live here.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

M&Ms, bonobos, octopuses and shit tests

I am not a big fan of evolutionary psychology.  In large part, this is because I object to the fucking puke hose rate of junk science that pours out of it.  Evo pysch is a playground for latter-day Foucauldians who can't be bothered with the misery of rigor and methodology.  On the other hand, I am a serious fan of just treating human psychology as yet another branch of primatology.

One of the big, clear boundaries between primatology and human psychology occurs where humans and apes are challenged to delay gratification.  The dumbest, most violent, most mentally retarded human being around outclasses the smartest, most with-it ape around when it comes to delayed gratification.  From the stand point of delaying gratification, apes are a total mess.  An ape has to be thoroughly coached to get to a level that the average four year old human develops intuitively.  In psych circles, this can be boiled down to the M&M or jelly bean test. 

M&Ms and jelly beans

The test is a classic psych experiment.  You take a group of kids.  You offer them a chance a chance to win a candy prize (M&Ms, jelly beans, etc).  The kid is presented with two bowls.  One has plenty of jelly beans.  The other has one jelly bean.  The researcher tells the kid if he can hold out long enough, he wins the bowl with tons of jelly beans.  But, at any time the kid can wimp out and just take the single jelly bean.  The researcher then leaves the room, taking the bowl with the big prize, leaving behind only the bowl with the single jelly bean.

When the researchers did follow-up with the kids years later, they discovered something important.  The kids who had held out the longest -- the ones who could delay gratification and win the bigger bowl -- went on to be the teenagers who had the highest SAT scores.  A 210 point difference, in fact!  So, there's definitely no fucking around about the statistical relevance.  People pay good money to gain marginal advantages on the SAT tests.

These kids also went on to be wealthier and skinnier.  The kids who couldn't delay gratification were more likely to do drugs and end up in jail.

There's a more advanced version of the experiment where they also fuck with the kids.  Sometimes, they never get the jelly beans.  Sometimes they do.  The kids who received the rewards were subsequently able to hold out even longer.  So, success reinforced the behavior that drives success.  Likewise, kids who weren't rewarded long-term went to an impulsive "fuck it" approach.  This accurately simulates the effects of poverty and failure on the human mind.


Similar testing has been done with bonobos and other great apes.  Not surprisingly, apes really, really suck at handle impulse control.  In fact, they tend to act like complete apes!

Only with extremely rigorous coaching could the apes be brought up to par with the abilities of human children.  The apes had to be taught basic math and symbolic logic.  And even then, only the best subjects eventually learned the art of doing anything other than grabbing for their own immediate benefit.

With laboring the point, it's safe to say there is a big divide between humans and other apes in this department.


The octopus is an amazing creature.  It is the only cephalopod capable of problem solving.  Among all the cold blooded animals, it towers absurdly high above the rest in intelligence and self-awareness.  In fact, the octopus outclasses all birds in problem solving.

The thing is, the octopus isn't just a good problem solver.  He's an astonishingly adaptive problem solver.  Octopuses are known to pick locks, traverse through laboratories by going from water source to water source, and a variety of other nifty tricks. 

They're notoriously difficult research subjects in large part because they flat-out don't fuck around.  They have excellent memories.  They hold grudges.  And they escape at the first chance they get.  They will run a maze, but they will also wreck the maze and cheat at the first chance they get.

In short, the octopus just doesn't give a fuck.  He'll play your game.  But, after finding the first crack in the facade, the octopus will say "fuck this shit" and resume being an octopus ASAP.

The intriguing thing is that the octopus lacks a lot of higher-order functions that we typify as being signs of intelligence.  He's not great at formulating novel plans.  He's unsocial to the point of being outright cannibalistic.  He can't learn symbolic logic.  The octopus is a serious curmudgeon.

So, what does the octopus have going for him?  One, he has a good memory.  Two, he's persistent as a motherfucker.

There is a human model for the octopus.  It's called autism.


Autistic people have a largely undeserved reputation for being intelligent.  In fact, most autistic intelligence is simply roteness applied to a level of madness.  Autistics have good memories and they are persistent as fuck.  They tend to suck at a lot of stuff.  But, things that require persistence to do tend to work better for them.  They can stick with a problem long after a normal person has surrendered.  Autistics are the octopuses of the human spectrum. 

Of course, if you are lucky enough to fall into the right part of the autistic spectrum, life is good.  Enough persistence to stick with a problem.  Not so much autism as to be severely socially impaired.  No significant reductions in mental faculties.  Maybe even a little sociopathy, because, fuck it, it worked for Steve Jobs, right?

The downside, of course, is that for most people autism is going to really, really suck.

Shit tests

In the online PUA subculture, one of the big innovations is the concept of the shit test.  A shit test is essentially an all-in-one credibility check that human beings run on each other when we're challenged.  The shit test combines probing for humor, social skills, delayed gratification, intelligence and . . . well, pretty much everything that goes into be human.  All in a single, nasty test.

The great challenge of modern human life is balancing delayed gratification with opportunistic aggression.  To be truly successful, a human being needs to be able to build wealthy, while also occasionally doing unthinkable opportunistic shit.

Think back to my reference to Steve Jobs.  Jobs was the model of the modern high function sociopath.  He exploited the fuck out of a clearly autistic friend, Steve Wosniak.  Woz did a lot of the grunt work that built Apple Computers.  And, in fact, it seems Woz openly let Jobs fuck him over on more than one occasion.  (Look up the story on Jobs taking Woz's money from the manufacture of the Breakout cartridges for Atari.)  Woz and Jobs is the ultimate love story.  An autistic guy hitches his star to a high function sociopath, and they ride each other the whole way to billions of dollars.

Success in human societies requires a delicate balance of intelligence, delayed gratification, exploitation and crass opportunism.  The shit test is the ultimate tool for testing how good a person's balance of these traits is.  FTR, I believe both genders shit test.  In fact, I think the shit test is one of the most truly identifying features of human social intelligence.  I think the shit test helps to separate us from the apes.

How, you ask, does this work?

Shit testing, by definition, means delaying gratification.  To withstand a shit test at all, you cannot be the ape who grabs right for what you want.  If a woman shit tests a guy and he goes full grabby from the word go, he's going to lose.  In fact, he's probably going to jail.

The intriguing thing about the shit test, though, is that he has error checking to weed out people who just keep delaying gratification.  Remember, opportunism and exploitation are winning traits, so long as you know when to strike.  So, if a guy gets shit tested and he just just keeps delaying the advance into flirtation, instead seeking to delay and delay forever, he still loses.

At one end, you lose for being too grabby.  At the other end, you lose for not manning up and taking what you want.  The shit test is pure genius.  It achieves rapid discovery of just the right balance of aggression and delayed gratification.

The social intelligence of flirtation then further screens out pure persistence.  Remember, the octopus isn't very bright.  Those autistic kids can be persistent motherfuckers.  And some of them will learn to fake their way into talking to a woman.  Eventually, though, the nuance of social interaction is going to break the autistic kid.  At some point, his octopus brain is going to get caught trying to persist its way through a problem instead of just playing nice.  When the autistic kid makes his mistake, he gets disqualified.  Thanks for playing, Rain Man.  Now back to jacking off to porn for you!

Human sexual flirtation is simply a brilliant system.  It tests for everything imaginable.  You need to be smart, but not autistic.  You need to be aggressive, but not a dumb fucking ape.  You need to delay gratification without being a complete pussy.  You have to confident without being a complete asshat.  You have to display status while still showing a a sense of nuance.

It's simply unreal how great a system it is.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

How to attract an aloof man

This one keeps popping up in the searches, so perhaps I ought to address it.  Let's start with a few key assumptions

First off, let's assume the guy in question is sincerely aloof and not putting you on.  I'm not a believer that guys can fake aloofness for very long.  A Texas leg hound eventually wants to find a leg to hump.  He isn't going to play coy for overly long.  It's not in his nature. Same goes for PUA types.  Playing back for any real length of time rather defeats the purpose of PUA.

Second, let's assume he is aloof for some long-term reason.  That is to say you haven't just encountered him at a bad time in his life.  It can be hard for women to realize a guy might have a life outside of them.  Try.  Make that leap of imagination.

Third, let's assume he might be interested in you.  Although, frankly, you'd be wise to consider the possibility he's not.  But, you're a girl stuck on a guy.  And if there's one thing I've learned from being the aloof guy that chicks pine for, it's that women can rationalize away anything if they think a guy is "The One".  You should disabuse yourself of this notion, but . . . I'm guessing you won't.

Four, let's assume you're willing to put in the time it might take.  I'm assuming that if you're trying to "attract" an aloof man, what you're really trying to do is induce him into asking you out.  My experience with women suggests they struggle with ever openly asking men for what they want.  So, it's fair to assume you're not actually going to do jackshit yourself.  Like all women, you're kind of a fuckin joke at the level where making the world go your way actually happens.  Be honest.  We've all be there.  You know the facts of your own life.

So, what do you do?

The Basic Female Approach

I am a big believer in my own model of how girls approach guys.  This is the female orbiter system.  She'll come around into his personal space.  If she knows him well enough, she'll try to chat him up and induce him into relating.  If she doesn't know him, she'll try to orbit, maybe smile, make it known.

The problem, of course, is that women think they're clever.  Worse, guys are dense.  And scared shitless.  So, all this orbiting usually just turns into a comedy of errors.  The girl can't, for biological reasons, bring herself to actually ask.  The guy has been shamed by society into thinking he doesn't have the right to ask.  She orbits.  He misses the signals or wimps out.  Rinse and repeat.

That said, the basic female approach of a guy is probably the best you're gonna do.  Truth be told, I am not convinced many women have it in them to pursue an aloof guy.  They want the validation of inducing the aloof guy to pursue them, but, at the base of it, women just don't have it in them to ask for what they want. 

I've known chicks who absolutely swooned over me and thought I was the greatest thing ever do everything they could to get my attention.  They'll orbit.  They'll make small talk.  They'll get pissed.  They'll wave at you.  They'll smile.  They will embarrass themselves.  The one thing they won't do is just come the fuck out and say something.

So, ya know . . . good luck with that.

Just say it!

Ha.  Who are we kidding?  You won't.

Be confrontational

It's horrible to say it, but this has generally been he one that works on me.  I once screwed a chick in a parking lot just because she questioned my sexuality for not paying attention to her.  It was after closing time at the bar.  I was just standing around trying to sober up.  She kept giving me shit for not digging her.  Finally, she out and asked, "Are you queer or something?"  I played it off, but eventually she got what she wanted.

Not my proudest moment.  And probably not the exchange you are hoping to have with a guy.  But, ya know what?  Tough shit, sunshine.  There's no version of this where the polite way works.  So, it's time to lay on some bitchiness.

Be sexy

Women really underrate this tactic.  As a guy, you spend huge portions of your life watching women act like sex is the most horrible thing on the planet.  That guys who want sex should burn in hell.  When a chick lays on the sex appeal, if there is the slightest hint of interest in the guy, it's going to work.

If you want the long version, read here.  There's a lot to be said for taking the guess work out of it.  Again, we guys can be very dense.  Sometimes, it's just easier to cut the bullshit and play for the win.

Even if you're not up for the full bump and grind, a little kino goes a long way.  Touch his forearm or his knee or his shoulder.  Smile.  Do more than just sit there like a piece of dead meat waiting for him to do something.

Be realistic, aka give the fuck up

You don't want to outright ask him out.  You aren't going to confront him.  And you're not going to be sexy.  Sometimes, giving up is the best choice.  Be honest with yourself.  You're not doing this for any redeeming reason.  You're doing it for your ego.  And that means you aren't going to risk jackshit to get the guy.

I have dealt with women who were absolutely convinced I was The One.  They've sat there red faced and spitting.  They've tried the most outlandish tricks in the book to make their intentions known without outright saying what they wanted.  I've been asked multiple times, "Why are you so mean?"  They orbit.  They hint.  They smile.  They sometimes make a quick touch of the knee.

And then they withdraw, come back again a week later and do the same failed shit again.  And they keep doing this until they get really, really pissed. 

You know what the really invested ones never, ever do?  They never just ask.

So, be honest.  You're not going to ask.  And it's not going to work out.  Move the fuck on.  Stop embarrassing yourself.

Monday, June 10, 2013


I was reading around the various blogs, and this post about intelligence and laziness caught my eye.  It's a kinda right-wing PUA blog, so . . . grain of salt on most of the material.  But, in this case, it's pretty damned spot-on in my own experience.

To wit:

It started in school, when I could do the homework during class while all the other kids were still learning the lesson, or in a pinch I could knock out a 3-week essay on the bus in the way in.  Then it got worse, to where I'd turn stuff in late and use the extra credit to get back up to an A.  In real life, the consequences are worse, of course.

The part about knocking out a 3-week essay on the bus hit me.  I was actually worse!  If the class that needed the assignment was in the morning, I'd knock the essay out in home room.  If it was in the afternoon, I'd knock the essay out after lunch.

What's even scarier in my case, was I grew up in a poor environment, surrounded by violence and stupid shit.  Any knowledge of schooling and intelligence will tell you that the entire IQ system was originally devised in France in the 1800s to spot underperforming poor kids!  Yeah, they really fucking missed me.  The elementary school  I went to placed me in an enrichment program, when what I really needed were classes to deprogram the fucking mess that was the poverty I grew up around.  How funny is that shit?

This is Exhibit A on why the system is fucked.  The system is highly self-congratulatory.  Lots of middle class assholes high-fiving each other for helping smart kids be smart.  And the system completely skipped over the fact I was, at the base of it, a classic "at risk" student.  No one sniffed that fact until I was in 11th grade and skipped two-thirds of the entire fucking school year and still passed.  Whoopsies!  Good work . . . dumbfucks.

I'm old enough now that I don't hold that against the system.  A system always exists just to perpetuate itself and the interests and safety of its members.  Look at Penn State after the Jerry Sandusky scandal!  The system did everything wrong from a moral standpoint.  But, as a system, you certainly can't fault their success in protect their members!

That's the system for ya.

I never link to my fellow commie scum enough . . . so, for a further reading on the subject, I point you toward Ta-Nehisi Coates, who is one of the few bloggers I've ever read who has the first fucking clue about growing up poor in America.

Per TNC:

When you don't have much exposure to the world the options you see for yourself tend to be limited--you can't really dream about that which you don't know exists.

In my case, I had a very encyclopedic sense that the world existed.  I could tell you where everything on the fucking planet was.  The problem for me was those places were distant abstractions.  They had no anchor for me.  No meaning.  They were just trivia.  Sure, I can still rock a night of watching Jeopardy out like a motherfucker, but that's all I got to show for it.

In truth, when I finally went to Europe, I was disappointed by everything except the Eiffel Tower, the whole area around L'Opera (apparently rich Parisians are my people -- go figure that shit) and the looseness of Scandinavian girls.  I was surprised by just how limited and stupid life is in wealthy, urban Europe.  Being a kid poor kid from Appalachia, it's easy to think there's gotta something smarter once you make it over the horizon, right?  Well, there isn't.  Truth be told, that discovery really ruined my adulthood.

My real weakness is that discovery consistently disappoints me.  When you can learn everything, and nothing impresses you, life become a dreadful exercise in rote repetition.  I've played at making money and figured it out.  I've played at getting laid and figured it out.  I've played at getting in shape and figured it out.  And nothing I have ever figured out has made me happy.

Eventually, you realize that life is just a series of pointless, rote exercises followed by more pointless, rote exercises.  The only thing I can really say for it is that it has raised my appreciation for French cinema.  Except, truth be told, I don't even find my sadness that fucking interesting.  After all, showing an interest in it would just be one more pointless, rote fucking exercise.

The truth is, I'm an addict.  I am addicted to the rush of learning new things.  But, with each thing I acquire, it becomes harder to get the rush.  Now that things come easy, there's no rush at all.  There comes a point where all you can do is get out of bed, pay your bills and fuck the rest.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Ladies, don't sell yourselves short

As a guy who gets hit on fairly often, I wanted to do a post about about something that bothers me a bit about how women hit on me.  The women who hit on me tend to split into two distinct groups.  There are the women who try waaaaay too hard.  These are the chicks who couldn't take a hint if you attached a note to a brick and threw it through their car window.  At the other end, though, are the chicks who make a glancing effort without really seeing where things are going.

Last Saturday, I was out at a club near a college.  I like this club.  Especially during the summer, because the summer session college girls can be an interesting lot.  They tend to be hard workers who want to cut loose on the weekend.  Often, they're harder working, more dedicated people.  And they also tend to drink like sailors, swear like marines and dance like strippers.  In short, my kinda folk.

There was this black chick there who was sitting with her white girlfriend and the black the girlfriend was hanging all over.  I noticed the black chick early on, but didn't think much of it because I hate working groups.  Least of all a group that has some obnoxious bitch hanging all over a guy.  Yeah, I know I'm missing easy wins in those sports, since the chick left out in the cold is fairly easy game.  But, social sets aren't my bag.

Out of boredom, I tried a kind of different opener on the black chick.  The whole group had gotten up.  I knew from their choice of spots they'd be back.  So, I sat in the black chick's seat while the three of them were gone.  Sure enough, the loving couple comes back.  Then their friend comes back and has nowhere to sit.  She kinda orbits the first time and then goes back to the dance floor.  Then she comes back a second time and I ask her if I took her seat.  She says, "It's OK.  You're fine."  No real seg to a conversation, so I let it go.  Eventually she goes back to dancing.  I escape to another portion of the club.

Toward closing time, I'm sitting by myself just trying to sober up a bit before I have to drive.  I feel a hand on my arm and I look to see the black chick just as she says, "Hey, honey."  I have to confess, that opener threw me off a tad.  To be honest, it felt a little hookerish.

Then she throws this one at me:  "I bet you're wondering what a black girl is doing around here."  A little odd, considering there were several other black chicks standing right there.  In my experience, if a black chick broaches the concept of race, she does it because she isn't confident about potential rejection on account of her skin color.  But, it's a really terrible concept to throw into an opener.

Also, if you've read my blog much, you know black girls can get some play from me.  She said something about where she was from and that she was up this way giving her little brother a ride to college to start summer session.  I recognized the town she was from because I used to have relatives down that way.  I mention this in terms of the nearest major city.

I'm not 100% certain, but I think this is where she decided to bail.  To put it bluntly, the city I mentioned falls under the heading of places where the bad reputation of black America comes from.  I don't think name checking a shithole black city helped her confidence in terms of this racial makeup of this conversation.  She kinda let things go after that and sought out her friend.

I know everyone has their confidence issues.  And I know that women really, really do not like approaching guys.  But . . . at some point if you hit on a guy, just flow with it.  If he's reasonably engaged, don't sweat the subtext.  He's a guy.  If he's engaged then the only subtext is that he thinks he might sleep with you.

Also, to be blunt, I'm pretty sure that's what she was green lighting by saying she wasn't from the area.  Women don't generally open themselves up to "I'm not from around here" unless the context is "so no one has to know".  Women know the implication of travel and sex.

I also wonder if some of this was female catch-and-release technique.  I've said it before.  No matter how much a woman likes a guy and pursues him, she will eventually try to circle things to a point where she feels like she is being pursued.  Women like being pursued.  And they will always circle back to that mode, if at all possible.

I was interested in her.  I just game at my own pace.  I'm not a guy who escalates quickly in most cases.  The simple reason for this is that being aloof and then suddenly being grabby makes a girl feel cheap.  So, I've learned to play back a bit, unless a woman goes for a very overt sexualization of the circumstances.

I think women tend to sell themselves short in these situations.  First off, if you're going to approach, you might as well say "fuck it" and go for it.  Skip the fear, because it's too late for that once you say hello to someone.  Second, whatever your self-perceived shortcomings are, they are.  If you're that scared, don't jump.  Somebody has to be the cat lady in your neighborhood, after all!  Third, if I'm engaged in the convo, you're good.  Don't sweat the technique.

Ladies?  Give yourselves some room to game.  Don't assume failure.  If you like a guy enough to approach him, give the approach an honest try as long as he isn't obviously trying to disengage.  You'll be surprised.