Xangsane
la la la la la
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2021
- Posts
- 150,539
- Reputation
- 127,572
DNRD:
Helene, a highly meticulous and aesthetics-obsessed 25-year-old, returns to her Quebec hometown after grad school with one clear mission: to find her ideal Chad or Chadlite. She dismisses all other men for not meeting her strict criteria, focusing instead on studying facial features and mating dynamics she learned from 4chan and other online spaces. Helene’s strategy revolves around calculated social movements, particularly in Montreal’s scene, while scoping out potential matches like Isaac at the gym. Despite her parents’ concerns, she remains committed to her methodical search, determined not to settle.--------
Chapter 1: The Hunt Begins
Helene (high MTB, Daria pheno) stood by the window of her childhood room, overlooking the quiet suburban streets of her hometown in Quebec. It was early October, and the chill in the air hinted at the harsh winter to come. She was 25 now, back from grad school with her degree, but the real challenge lay ahead: finding her ideal match, a Chad or Chadlite who met her highly specific criteria.For as long as she could remember, Helene had been obsessed with the details—precise measurements of jawlines, the exact angles that made high cheekbones truly “pop” under soft lighting, and the subtle musculature that defined the perfect masculine silhouette. She had spent years on 4chan, reading about facial aesthetics, life outcomes, and the brutal reality of mating markets. She knew the theories inside and out, how hypergamy worked, and the evolutionary psychology that made her different from the women she often scoffed at.
Yet, while many women used social media to show off their relationships or the highlights of their social lives, Helene had chosen another path. She refused to settle for anything less than a top-tier face. During her time in college and grad school, she turned down every man who approached her. She dismissed the normies, the high-tier normies (HTNs), and even the occasional guy who hovered on the edge of Chadlite territory but didn’t quite make the cut. Most of them had soft features, or noses that were slightly too big, or chins that lacked that chiseled edge she craved. Some were simply too eager, too easily impressed by her, and she found that repellent.
Her mother, Francine, had often tried to give gentle advice. "You can’t be so picky forever, ma belle," Francine would say, her accent thick with the musical cadence of Quebecois French. But Helene would just roll her eyes. Her mother’s suggestions came from a different world, a different time. Francine had married Gordon, an Anglo-Canadian with a decent but unremarkable face. Helene wanted more. She was convinced she could do better, that the rigorous criteria she maintained would eventually pay off.
And now, she had time—time and freedom, even if it came with the quiet desperation that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. She lived with her parents for now, a temporary arrangement she convinced herself would help her save money and avoid the distractions of Montreal's nightlife. The city had its allure, but she wasn’t about to be just another girl chasing unattainable dreams. Instead, she was going to play this game strategically, using her knowledge and her patience as her weapons.
Montreal: The Calculated Approach
Montreal was only an hour’s drive away, a city filled with possibilities but also fierce competition. Helene was acutely aware of the types of women she would encounter there—women with effortless style, perfect makeup, and bodies sculpted by hours at the gym. They knew how to angle their phones just right for that subtle but suggestive gym mirror selfie. Helene was not blind to their strategies. She had spent countless hours analyzing their Instagram feeds, dissecting the subtle cues they used to attract attention.But she didn’t fear them. If anything, she saw them as predictable, their tactics transparent. She knew she wouldn’t win in a battle of typical femininity—she wasn’t curvy, her fashion sense was often utilitarian rather than trendy, and her face, though striking in a certain light, lacked the harmony of conventional beauty. But what she did have was a sharp mind and a determination that bordered on obsession.
Helene knew that Montreal’s scene was not to be discounted, but it wasn’t going to be her primary hunting ground. Instead, she would take calculated trips, attending select events where her odds were better, where the crowd leaned more toward international students or young professionals who valued intellect. Art galleries, certain academic lectures, niche meetups. She even entertained the thought of the occasional upscale club, though she despised the thought of mingling with women she saw as competition.
But for now, she focused on the local gyms in her hometown. She had already scoped out a few of them, noting the times when the more athletic and aesthetically pleasing men would come in. One of them—Isaac—caught her eye immediately. He wasn’t a Chad, but he had the potential to be at least a Chadlite. A face with angular features, a strong jawline, and an intense focus during his workouts. Helene took mental notes each time she saw him, tracking his routine and evaluating his body’s progress over the weeks. His approach to the gym was methodical, something she respected.
She wouldn’t make her move yet. Helene had no intention of engaging directly with Isaac until she was sure of a few things: his social media presence, his romantic history, and whether he was the kind who could appreciate her uniqueness or if he was just like every other man, looking for the easy validation of more conventional beauties.
Life at Home
Back at home, Francine and Gordon observed their daughter’s meticulous ways with a mixture of concern and exasperation. Francine, a kind-hearted woman with a streak of pragmatism, often urged her daughter to think about her future beyond this singular focus. Gordon, quieter and more reserved, sensed that there was little he could do to change Helene’s mind once she had set her sights on something.“Maybe you should focus on work for a while, Helene,” Gordon suggested one evening, his voice calm as he sipped his tea. “You have a good education, and you don’t need a relationship to define you.”
Helene’s response was quick, almost cutting. “It’s not about being defined by someone else, Dad. It’s about finding someone who’s worth it. Why should I settle for less when I’ve waited this long?”
Francine looked at her with a mixture of sadness and frustration. “Ma belle, you’re not giving yourself a chance to see what else could make you happy. The perfect man... he might not exist.”
Helene didn’t respond to that. She knew they wouldn’t understand. They didn’t see the world the way she did. In her mind, she had a clear idea of what she wanted and what she deserved. And if it took a few years of calculated effort, so be it. She was prepared to wait, to plan, and to execute her strategy carefully.
In the evenings, she’d sit at her laptop, browsing social media profiles, lurking on 4chan, Reddit and Discord, and learning more about men like Isaac—how they thought, what they valued, and what made them commit. She noted which types of women they followed, what kinds of interactions they had, and how they responded to certain comments. She would figure out the pattern, decode the signals, and then make her move when the timing was right.
She wasn’t anxious, but she was realistic. Helene knew that as she approached her late twenties, the window was closing. Women in their early twenties had an easier time attracting these men, and she was aware of how much that mattered. But Helene believed she had an edge. She was willing to play the long game, to study her targets like she would a complex academic problem, and to wait for the right moment to strike.
The Waiting Game
So, for now, Helene waited, watching the world around her, preparing for the moves she would make. She knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but she also knew that the right match—one that met her exacting standards—was worth every ounce of effort.And if she felt a twinge of loneliness on quiet nights in her old bedroom, she pushed it down, reminding herself of the goal. She wouldn’t let herself slip into bitterness, but she wouldn’t abandon her high standards either. After all, she had spent too many years studying this game to back down now.
Helene was ready for the next chapter, knowing full well that every decision she made would shape her path. And with each calculated step, she inched closer to the elusive ideal she had been searching for all along.
Chapter 2: The Digital Hunt
Helene’s life had become a carefully orchestrated routine. Weekdays were for work—she held a remote job, one of those roles that paid well but offered little excitement. But it gave her freedom, which she valued more than anything else. Every two weeks, she’d make the drive into Montreal for her in-office day, and she’d use these opportunities to sharpen her social instincts, though she rarely lingered. The city was a hunting ground, but she didn’t want to blend into the mass of young women who filled the cafes, bars, and art galleries.Her weekends, however, were where she put her real efforts. From the outside, she maintained an air of disinterest in social media. Her Instagram had barely a dozen posts—mostly photos of landscapes, her dog, and a couple of moody, carefully curated shots of herself where her unconventional features looked their best. She kept her captions short and detached, nothing that hinted at loneliness or a desperate search for connection.
But behind the scenes, Helene had developed a new strategy. She had long accepted that while her face might be striking in certain lighting, it wasn’t enough to stand out in a competitive world where women were constantly morphing, tweaking, and refining their looks to attract top-tier men. Her time in the darker corners of the internet, lurking on forums and watching TikTok trends, had taught her that beauty was a game of inches. So, she turned to FaceApp, using its tools to subtly morph her photos before uploading them onto dating apps. A slightly sharper jawline, a little lift to the cheeks, a touch of symmetry to her smile—nothing too drastic, but enough to nudge her into a different category of attractiveness.
The Morphing Game
Helene wasn’t delusional about the process. She knew that most women, especially the ones who effortlessly drew attention from Chads and Chadlites, were doing some form of digital enhancement or, at the very least, leveraging the most flattering angles. She saw it as leveling the playing field rather than cheating. “99% of women morph to get Chad,” she’d tell herself, rationalizing the time she spent perfecting each image.She never used the morphed photos in her professional life or for anything that would tie back to her real identity. Her profiles on dating apps like Bumble, Hinge, and even niche Discord servers were carefully curated. She made sure to include just a few of these edited photos alongside pictures that were closer to her natural look—an attempt to manage expectations while still drawing attention. Her bios were minimalist, offering a touch of wit but nothing that signaled desperation. No mention of wanting a long-term relationship or marriage—she knew that this kind of signaling was a red flag to men who could sniff out anxious attachment.
Navigating the Apps and Discords
The dating apps were a mixed bag. Helene swiped selectively, taking her time to research each match. If she matched with a Chad or Chadlite, she’d move with caution, keeping the conversation light and never asking too much. It was a tightrope walk—just enough interest to keep them engaged but not so much that she seemed like one of the many women clamoring for their attention.She also used the apps in an unconventional way, matching with women too. These interactions weren’t romantic; they were part of her calculated effort to build a social network that could open new doors. She’d initiate conversations with a casual comment about music or local events, and from there, she’d gauge whether they could become useful allies—friends or acquaintances who might help her navigate the social scene. Through these connections, she learned about events that weren’t advertised widely, underground parties where the crowds skewed toward the attractive and the well-connected, or lesser-known bars that catered to Montreal’s creative elite.
On Discord, she joined servers focused on art, niche interests, and even some more relationship-focused channels where people shared their unfiltered thoughts. She listened more than she spoke, picking up on the nuances of what men found attractive, what turned them off, and how they responded to different types of interactions. It was like reading the playbook from the other team, and Helene took notes.
Encounters and Setbacks
Throughout this process, Helene was aware of the dynamics that could work against her. She had read enough to understand how easily women could be trapped in the “pump and dump” cycle, especially when dating men who had no shortage of options. She knew that desperation was a scent—something men could pick up on even when hidden behind casual conversation. So, she practiced restraint, never letting herself come across as eager or too available.Still, there were setbacks. A few months in, she matched with Rafael—a Chadlite who had the classic, angular features she admired. He had the gym-polished physique, a symmetrical smile, and a certain self-assuredness that made him stand out from her other matches. For weeks, they exchanged messages that bordered on flirtatious, and Helene thought she might have found a potential target.
But one night, while scrolling through his Instagram, she noticed that he had been tagged in photos with a handful of local influencers. She saw the pattern—pictures of parties, cozy group shots with beautiful women. Helene knew the signs of a man who enjoyed being surrounded by attention, and she quickly cooled her responses. Soon enough, Rafael stopped replying altogether, and she wasn’t surprised.
It stung, but Helene pushed through it. “This is part of the process,” she told herself. She wasn’t naive enough to believe that she’d find the right match on the first try. She took the rejection as another data point, another lesson in how the game worked. It only reinforced her belief that she couldn’t afford to let her guard down or settle for anyone who didn’t fit her exacting standards.
Finding Isaac
Then, on a cold Saturday morning at a gym just outside of Montreal, she spotted Isaac. He was new—clearly not one of the regulars she had been observing for months. Isaac wasn’t a full Chad by the standards she’d developed, but he had potential. He was around her age, with a face that was somewhere between classic handsome and pretty boy—high cheekbones, a defined jawline, but with a softness to his expression that made him approachable. And more importantly, his body was on point—muscular but not overly bulky, athletic without looking like he lived in the gym.Helene played it cool, taking note of his routine over the next few weeks. She’d work out nearby, timing her sets to match his, but never initiating conversation. She observed his habits, noting when he seemed most focused and when he appeared more open to social interaction. She found out, through casual chatter with the gym staff, that he had recently moved back from Ontario for a job in finance. This gave her a point of reference, a potential conversation starter for when the time was right.
After a few weeks, Helene finally broke the silence with a casual comment about the equipment. It wasn’t much, but Isaac responded with a smile, and from there, a slow but steady rapport began to form. She made sure to keep their conversations brief, always ending them first, leaving just enough mystery to keep him interested.
The Breakthrough
It took months, but eventually, Isaac asked her out for coffee after a workout. Helene accepted with a nonchalance she didn’t entirely feel, and they met at a small café on the edge of town. The conversation flowed more easily than she expected—he was curious about her background, her studies, and her thoughts on life in Quebec. She made sure to ask him questions too, but always kept a slight distance, never letting her interest seem too eager.Isaac mentioned that he had noticed her profile on a dating app before they’d spoken at the gym. Helene felt a pang of anxiety at the thought that he might have noticed the subtle morphing in her photos, but he didn’t bring it up, and she dismissed it as paranoia.
As the weeks went by, they began to spend more time together—walks, casual dinners, a few late-night conversations. Helene maintained her boundaries, keeping the physical side of their relationship at a distance for now. She knew that rushing into intimacy could tip the balance too far, too soon. Isaac seemed to respect this, or at least he didn’t press the issue.
And yet, Helene knew that she was navigating a fine line. She had to be strategic, playing up the unique qualities that might set her apart from the more conventionally attractive women Isaac could have easily pursued. She focused on their shared interests, her wit, and the subtle ways she could hint at a future without making herself appear desperate.
The Turning Point
It wasn’t until one evening, after a long dinner in the city, that Isaac looked at her with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. They had walked along the waterfront, talking about everything from Quebec’s changing culture to the frustrations of remote work. And as they sat on a bench overlooking the dark water, he told her he wanted to get to know her better, that he hadn’t met anyone quite like her before.Helene, ever cautious, tempered her response. But she allowed herself a small smile, feeling the shift in the air between them. She knew this wasn’t the end of the chase, but it was a significant step—a sign that her calculated strategy was paying off.
Chapter 3: Calculated Risks and Backup Plans
Helene knew better than to rely on a single outcome. The nights she spent obsessing over facial symmetry, reading up on the mating dynamics between Chads and normies, had instilled a sense of realism in her. She understood the game was rigged, that no matter how many strategies she deployed, there was always a chance things could fall apart with Isaac. While she enjoyed their dates and the slow progression of their relationship, she kept her expectations tempered. Isaac was a potential win, but not the only path forward.She also understood that even with her strategies and morphed images, she was playing from a position of disadvantage compared to women who met the beauty standard effortlessly. To maintain her sanity, she made sure she had more options—potential fallback plans that she kept in her back pocket, not for infidelity, but as a safety net in case things with Isaac went south. She was cautious, not impulsive, and every move she made had a purpose.
Expanding Her Reach
Weekends remained her hunting grounds, but Helene expanded her reach beyond the gym where she met Isaac. She made occasional trips to Montreal, visiting the art galleries and academic talks she’d identified earlier. She’d chat casually with strangers about the latest exhibit or the themes of a lecture, offering just enough charm to leave a positive impression without ever appearing overeager. Her small town outside Montreal didn’t provide much in terms of social circles, so these calculated visits were her way of dipping a toe into the larger pond while keeping her distance from the typical party scenes she despised.She knew exactly what she was looking for—she had a type, an archetype, and she stuck to it with almost clinical precision. Men who had the classic handsome features she favored: well-defined cheekbones, a jawline that could cast shadows, and a body that was lean but muscular. She wasn’t interested in the more polished types who might become influencers or the rugged gym bros who lacked the kind of finesse she craved. She sought the refined, those who looked like they might belong in a high-end cologne ad rather than a TikTok thirst trap.
The Apps: A Subtle Second Front
Helene continued using dating apps, but she was careful not to let her presence there overlap too much with her life in the real world. Her profiles were tailored to be as unobtrusive as possible—photos that hinted at her personality but never gave too much away, a short bio that mentioned her interest in niche art and music, but nothing that could be used to trace her back to her hometown. She used different apps for different purposes, keeping one profile more polished for the likes of Hinge, where she might find men with more stable jobs, and another for Tinder, where she kept the approach more casual. However, she was keeping her virginity intact until marriage.She was strategic in her approach to matching. If she came across a man who fit her archetype—say, a well-groomed guy with a jawline that screamed Chadlite—she’d swipe right, but she never made the first move. She wanted them to feel like they were chasing her, not the other way around. And if they didn’t reach out first, she’d simply move on, unbothered. Helene had a strict no-doubles rule: if a match didn’t message her within a certain time frame, she’d unmatch and delete the conversation.
Some of these matches led to brief conversations, but she was quick to vet them. If their interests seemed too focused on partying or if they hinted too quickly at physical interactions, she’d cut things off. She knew the signs of men looking for a pump and dump scenario, and she wasn’t about to waste her time. Instead, she sought out those who seemed genuinely curious about her thoughts on art, who asked about her work, or who showed some intellectual depth.
Discord and Digital Spaces
Her presence on Discord continued to be a low-key but valuable part of her strategy. On a server focused on Montreal’s cultural scene, she met a few men who caught her attention, though most of them lived in the city and had little interest in the quieter life of Quebec’s outskirts. One in particular, Sebastien, intrigued her—a 30-year-old photographer with a laid-back attitude and a profile photo that hinted at a strong bone structure, the kind that could have landed him a modeling gig if he’d been more ambitious.They messaged back and forth sporadically, discussing Montreal’s changing art scene and the best hidden spots for coffee. Helene appreciated that Sebastien wasn’t pushy; he was content with the slow pace of their conversations, and he didn’t seem overly interested in meeting up right away. It was exactly the kind of backup connection she was looking for—something that could develop into more if things with Isaac fizzled out.
Sebastien wasn’t a priority; he was a potential. Helene treated these digital connections like investments—she cultivated them lightly, never letting them take up too much of her time but ensuring they had room to grow if needed. She felt a small thrill at the idea that she was keeping multiple options open without needing to fully commit to any one of them.
Juggling Isaac and the Shadows
In the meantime, her dates with Isaac continued. They’d found a rhythm that Helene felt comfortable with—weekend coffee dates, occasional evenings spent walking through parks, and a few dinners where they tested each other’s taste in restaurants. She learned that he appreciated the little quirks about her—her bluntness, her habit of going on long rants about certain art styles, and even her refusal to follow mainstream trends. It was an intimacy she was learning to enjoy, but she kept her guard up.Isaac hadn’t made any overt moves toward physical intimacy beyond a few kisses, and Helene knew that this was in part due to how she had set the pace. She felt a sense of power in being able to dictate the terms, even if it meant that she sometimes caught herself wondering whether he was losing patience. But until he said otherwise, she assumed he was content with the way things were.
Still, she couldn’t help but occasionally feel the pressure of time, the reminder that at 25, she was no longer in the prime window that many men—especially Chads and Chadlites—sought out. This was part of why she maintained her secret plan, keeping other options in play. It wasn’t that she wanted to betray Isaac’s trust; she simply knew that she couldn’t afford to put all her hopes on him. If he eventually lost interest or decided he wanted something simpler, she needed to be ready to pivot.
Thoughts of Morphing
On some nights, as she scrolled through her photos on FaceApp, Helene found herself thinking about how much of this process relied on appearances. She knew her natural look was a hurdle, one that she had to finesse with every little edit and angle. “99% of women morph to get Chad,” she repeated to herself, staring at the slightly altered image of her own face, where her jawline looked a little more refined and her smile a bit more symmetrical. She wondered if Isaac would notice the difference if he compared the photos on her dating profile to the way she looked in person. So far, he hadn’t mentioned anything, and she took that as a sign that she had balanced the edits well enough.Helene never considered plastic surgery—she knew it would change the subtlety of her look, make her appear more manufactured rather than the enigmatic intellectual she tried to project. Morphing was different; it was a layer of illusion, a mask she could take off when needed. And as long as she could keep her face hidden behind that digital mask, she’d use it to her advantage.
A New Encounter
One chilly Saturday afternoon, Helene attended a small art event in a gallery on the outskirts of Montreal. She went alone, dressed in her usual subdued style—dark jeans, a fitted sweater, and a slightly oversized coat that hinted at her slender frame without clinging too tightly. Her glasses rested on her nose, giving her an academic air that she knew some men found appealing.She didn’t expect much from the event, but halfway through, she caught sight of a new face—Arthur. He was taller than most of the crowd, with a classic handsome face that was all sharp angles and a full head of neatly styled hair. He looked out of place among the older art enthusiasts, his presence commanding the room in a way that suggested he wasn’t used to blending in.
Helene watched him from across the gallery, observing the way he moved and spoke with others. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, and she noted the way he occasionally scanned the room, as if assessing who might be worth his time.
It was a game she knew well.
She approached him casually, making a remark about one of the abstract pieces on the wall—something about how it reminded her of the 1980s wave of industrial art. Arthur smiled, the kind of smile that revealed a slight dimple on one side of his otherwise chiseled face. They chatted for a while, and Helene felt a small thrill as she noticed him leaning in slightly, his focus shifting entirely onto her.
She wouldn’t rush this one either. Arthur might become another potential, someone to keep in her orbit while she continued her slow burn with Isaac. As they exchanged numbers, Helene couldn’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction.
It was all part of the plan.
Last edited:
.
