Confessions of an Aloof Guy | High IQ _RARE_ field stories

[White_Bwoi]

https://aloofguy.blogspot.com

I don't know if he's still kicking, but there was some GOLD content there,
basically theory of being so fucking aloof that you get what you want, his personal stories.
He probably was a chad but's it's all tales from another era...

 

[superpsycho]

do i want to click on this link

 

[White_Bwoi]

Preview/example of walls of PUA coping texts but some insight into human nature too...:​

""

A Great Attention Whore, or THE GREATEST Attention Whore EVER? You decide​

It's been a while since I've posted anything. That's mostly a case of why repeat the same shit. It took time, but . . . NOVELTY IS UPON US! I spent the better part of this weekend working over a single, large social group in a club setting. Infiltrating a large group isn't usually my preferred play, but this was a case where I could see an easy path forward.

The Group​

The group itself consists of six women, three guys (not including me, because I'm-an-outsider-FTW). One of the guys is an ex-boyfriend of one of the chicks who just hasn't figured that fact out yet. The other two are the worst form of beta orbiters imaginable. Of the chicks, I'd say one is legitimately high-end hot, one is a full point behind her, two are legitimately cute, one is okay, and one is a legitimate slag who starts shit (God bless the commitment of female-centered groups to keeping one genuine "why do you even talk to her" chick in the group).

The females I'd count as a solid 8, two 7s, a 6, a 5, and a soft 3.5 (I'm kindly awarding the slag an additional half point for at least being clean, dressed decently, and doing her hair -- even slags deserve an attaboy. Remember ladies: got yer hair did is a full half-point.). All three of the guys are beta enough to not count.

The Situation​

The problem is that the one 7 is a monstrous attention whore. As you might guess, the two beta orbiters basically spent the whole weekend backing up dump trucks full of affirmation and pouring it on her.

She's a super-cute spinner type who, frankly, could upgrade her game a little and improve a full point. She's a skinny but not in-shape person who could easily tighten her body up and get hotter, but she's also the motor of the group. She's the one dancing with everybody, the one singing karaoke, etc. Those beer carbs giveth, and they taketh away.

To say the 8 knows her status in the group would be an understatement. The betas aren't even allowed to talk to her, and she seems to be the only one in the group who was allowed to shit test me.

The other 7 ended up being my real target. Pretty blonde girl with a big enough butt to make her self-conscious. She didn't let guys grind on her or anything the whole weekend -- and this is a majority black club, so that's some real effort on her part. Demure, well-behaved, put-together type who parked herself next to me when we went for food at the end of the second night, and she kept finding ways to quickly touch me and then pull away before it became too forward. That sort of behavior in women is the fast path to having my attention.

Enter the Attention Whore​

This is the point where the Attention Whore made what I can only call the least subtle move I have ever seen a chick make. Three of us were seated along the bar while our food was coming out (me, the 8, and the blonde 7) and turned to watch people doing karaoke. Attention Whore and the orbiters were, no surprise, doing karaoke because, ya know, hell is other people. The 6, the 5, the slag and the boyfriend got lost at some point.

When my order came, I stood up, turned around and asked the bartender for some ketchup. I gamed her a little bit, we chuckled, whatever. Those nice, fun, mini practice games are always a good way to get your energy up.

I suddenly feel the Attention Whore literally pushing against me as she leans across the bar. She's parked herself in the seat I just vacated, and she's trying to achieve as much body-to-body contact as possible.

The 8 and the blonde 7 shut down instantly. All banter done. All talk done.

I literally grabbed the chair and lifted it and her a full foot away from me to convey my displeasure. One of the beta orbiters ambles over and tries meekly to game her, and I do everything in my power to redirect her bullshit toward him. Finally, I just turn and start eating because food.

Did I say the Attention Whore wasn't subtle? She moves back over, but this time settles for elbow-to-elbow contact. (For those who think women don't do game, just remember this chick was recalibrating!) She leans in, asks if she can have some of my french fries. There's like one-quarter of the GDP of Idaho sitting there, so I told her have at.

Sure enough, the shit-testing 8 doesn't miss a beat. "Are you really just gonna let her eat your fries like that?" I said something to the effect of "I don't need all of that. She's doing me a favor." (Apparently, you can fail a shit test by not displaying an appropriate level of food aggression! Next time I guess I'll just have to snap a 95-pound girl's wrist to make sure the queen bee knows I'm a legit insanity wolf.)

I resume eating, and for grins I start talking up the beta orbiter and no one else. All bitches are on lockdown until further notice.

Did I say the Attention Whore wasn't subtle? She taps me on the shoulder and starts trying to feed me. I wave her off and say, "Don't get weird." (Yes, I dropped a People of Earth joke on her.)

Both of the beta orbiters are moving in, and I try to work them into the conversation in order to enforce the freeze out. The blonde 7 senses the opening and tries to get back in the game, but don't worry because the Attention Whore isn't subtle. She gets up for a second, adjusts her chair and sits down facing the blonde while simultaneously forcing ass-to-crotch contact with me. A minute later, the 8 cuts between the blonde and the Attention Whore. The blonde is now literally being double-covered by the two most socially dominant females in the group.

Apparently, the 8 is very committed to her food aggression plan, because she starts taking french fries without asking and even manages to swipe a half-eaten chicken finger. I confess at this point I'm feeling rather dispirited and wondering why the fuck I deviated into group game, which is not my preferred game.

The Attention Whore now decides to grab a wad of french fries, jams them two inches away from my mouth and says, "It's not weird." My inner white trash peeks out at that moment, because I glared at her and said, "I don't know you ferfuck. It's weird." She puts the fries down and pushes her ass into me. She then offers the fries again, muttering and pouting,"It's not weird." I push her hand down, but I did give her a pretty good squeeze on the ass cheek because I'm honestly at the point where, fuck it, I'm not even the one running game at this point and I know it.

A Slag Appears​

I fucking swear women can smell from a mile away when a superior member of their group is trying to ice the deal with a guy. The slag comes into the bar from outside and immediately invokes some sort of treaty obligation under the Slag-Attention Whore Axis demanding backup in her full-blown attempt to make the 5's soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend status official. This is full shit-starting five-alarm slaggery, complete with claims that he threatened to hit her.

Faced with having to abandon her positional advantage, the Attention Whore suddenly becomes the sanest and most reasonable person on earth. "Is 5 in a safe spot?" "Sure, next door at the pizza place." "Are they going anywhere?" "No." "6 is with her, right?" "Yeah." "Then leave it the fuck be."

Clearly, Henry Kissinger was right: great powers don't commit suicide to save their allies.

Don't worry, the 8 now senses her chance to fuckin ruin everything for everyone. A full demonstration of the 8's social dominance ensues, as she grabs the blonde 7 by the arm and pushes the two beta orbiters out the door to ride posse on the destruction of her friend's relationship. The Attention Whore has "dafuq" written all over her face, but once the rest of the group is outside, she follows without saying a word to me.

I ask the bartender where the bathroom is and go take a piss. Eventually I walk outside and past the pizza place. At this stage, apparently the 5 is now fighting to preserve her boyfriend's status with all the other group members in full-bore pitchfork mode. The now-ex-boyfriend sees me walking away from the pile and asks if I care if he walks with me. We get about half-a-block before the slag goes into full screaming bitch mode and draws the ex-boyfriend back into the fight. At this point, I'm prepared to amputate above the knee, so I leave him to his fate and go find my car a couple blocks away.

Autopsy​

As I'm writing all of that out, I'm realizing there are other moving parts definitely in play besides the Attention Whore. Clearly I walked into a situation where the knives were already out, and I totally failed to ask the question, "What y'all holdin behind yer backs?"

I've never dealt with a group situation that got this ridiculous, but there's a sick sort of beauty to how it all unfolded. I start out feeling like I have the situation on a good track with the blonde 7, but I literally turned my back for a minute and a fuckin prairie war breaks out.

I'm not even clear what the fuckin 8 who dominated the group was trying to accomplish. I wouldn't rule out the possibility this was a case of her pissing on everyone just to remind them who the fuck is queen bee. My best guess was that she was trying to contain the two 7s and maintain an option to make a move only after she administered her shit tests.

As best I can tell, the major mistake I made was making a clear play for the blonde 7 when my assessment of her status (relatively high, though artificially inflated due to my preference for how she comported herself) did not match the group's assessment. I had her ranked 2 of 6 while the group had her ranked 3 of 6, and the group's #2, the Attention Whore, was willing to engage in carpet bombing to achieve her goal.

In short . . . "women, right?!" Or maybe it's "people are the worst." I mean, why not Seinfeld? I already have Sartre and Chekov's Gun worked into the story.