Sexy Move: Won’t Know Until You Try

From the forum…

Deciduous:  This morning we were involved in husband and wife activities…

At the beginning, she played a little game she has done in the past a few times.

“What if I don’t let you?”

In the past, I usually shrugged that off, but not in a dominant way, usually in a playful manner, and it has never resulted in no happyfuntime.

I would usually say something along the lines of “I have never had an unsatisfied customer” or “I prefer willing participants”.

This time I said, in a rather growly way whilst burying her head in my quite well developed pecs…

“Then I’m just gonna take what I want”

At this point, I almost couldn’t believe that came out of my mouth. I didn’t stop, but my mind was racing…wow, did I just do that?

Her response FLOORED me.

“I think I would like that. A LOT”

Holy crap. This manosphere stuff isn’t 50% bullshit after all.

Maybe only 25%.

The fact that she wants the OLD me, the guy that had her as #2 in a soft harem 13 years ago, rather than the guy I figured made more sense with 2 young kids…

Good lord.

Athol:  As long as you have all the basic structural attraction pieces in place – a job, basic health, reasonable fitness, no critical emotional incidents screwing everything up… sometimes all that’s left to do is make a dominant move.

If you try it and she says “no”, well you weren’t going to get laid anyway.

If you try it and she says “yes”, or at least doesn’t say “no” and makes some kind of vaguely positive response… then you go for it.

Takes a couple minutes to see how it works. If you’ve been doing everything else and getting minimal sexual response from her, you may as well try something new.

You won’t know until you try.

Jennifer is Still Alive

Reader:  Athol, I read your post about your wife and the breast cancer scare. Scary stuff huh.

Some years ago I became familiar with a book “Dressed to Kill,” in which the author shared a concern that there might be a link between underwire bras and breast cancer. It wasn’t a scientific book and the author didn’t claim that kind of clout, but she seemed sincere. In the years since then I did meet a woman who mentioned she quit wearing underwires and noticed a decrease in monthly pain and lumps. I don’t know if that means lower chance of breast cancer, but it seems like it at least couldn’t hurt. I don’t know if it’s been proven or not, but if such a simple thing could improve your situation that would be great, and a low-risk private thing to try.

PS- How do you pronounce “Athol”?

Athol:  I believe there is a link between underwire bras, but not sure how strong it is. But yeah… Jennifer can have whatever bra she wants. I actually get a little short-tempered at her about timely replacement. The boobies get nestled in the lap of luxury… assuming it’s on sale of course.

Not so much a breast cancer scare as needing to repeat a mammogram. Jennifer is fine. Just a six month follow up mammogram to keep watch. I get twitchy because the first time around was just an awful clusterfuck of misdiagnosis, shitty patient care and she took nearly three years before one breast was feeling up for sexual playtime fun.

And thank you to everyone that has emailed, messaged and so to us about it. Much appreciated.

It’s pronounced   “ath” with a soft “a”… then “ill”.


Relative vs Absolute Sex Rank and the Forty-Year-Old Wife

Comment on Dread Game and the Gym.

DrocK: Fun thing to try! Since it can be a challenge to set-up a good Dread Game scenario, especially early on, I’ve found that there are mildly effective ways to get your own ‘in-house’ game going and throw her Hamster through a loop just by pushing the right buttons. While not as effective as getting real IOI’s, it’s a good way to mess with her a little bit, generate a little sexual tension and can have a profound effect if you’re creative about it. Case-in-point – I casually threw out the Old Guy vs. Young Guy game idea at my wife over the weekend by simply shaping it as a question. She’s loosely aware that I’m MAPping, but is not aware of MMSL. We’ve been sexless for about ~55 weeks or so (not that anyone’s counting!), but things are improving quickly and dramatically.

So I asked her who she thinks would have a better chance at winning her over – the Young Me that got her when we met (at 23) or the now me about 10 years later. I don’t doubt that I’m much wiser and more attractive now, so I was comfortable asking her. Might not work too well if you’re brand new to MAPing, so the timing could make a difference. So she said the now, older me. Hands down. I let her think about it for a few seconds and then clarified, ‘WE ARE talking about winning over the 20 y/o you from 10 years ago… still think the now me would have a better shot?” Again, yes, without hesitation she affirmed that the now me is far more attractive and would get the ‘younger her’ attention much more readily vs. the younger me.

After that I didn’t have to say anything at all. Just watching the wheels turn and the expression on her face change slowly from ‘happily content with my more attractive husband’ to ‘holy shit, I could lose him to a friggin’ 20 year-old if I don’t step it up’ was classic.

Athol:  If there’s a single moment women have where they get the Red Pill for themselves, it’s the moment when they realize relative Sex Rank doesn’t count, only absolute Sex Rank does.

Women all start off their sex lives pretty close to the peak of their attractiveness and are very attuned to their peer group. So they think of themselves as being hot relative to their peer group cohort…. and then keep thinking of themselves as being hot relative to their peer group as they age. So if a twenty-year-old looks at her peer group and decides she’s a 9… she’s a 9. But then twenty years later when she’s forty, when she looks at her peer group of other forty-year-old women and decides she’s a 9… newsflash, she’s not a 9.

Obviously the same woman at age 20 isn’t going to be as hot at age 40. Relative to her girlfriends, she may still be the hot one, but in absolute terms compared to all the women in the Sexual Marketplace… maybe she’s a 6 or a 7. Hell if she got properly fat, maybe she’s a 4. Meanwhile her husband has potentially continued to gain Sex Rank as he gains money, power and social influence.

This is utterly horrifying for women to realize.

It’s a bitter pill to men to realize they screwed up a bunch of stuff in the past, but at least there’s a hope for the future. Sure it’s hard work turning things around, but every single guy that’s run the MAP, eventually gets to a sexy outcome if they put the effort in and make the hard choices. It may take a couple years to get there, but there’s always hope.

Women are just screwed though. You’re forty. The best bit is over, you’ll never be as hot as you were. This is as good as it gets. Please keep your arms and legs inside the train, it’s all downhill from here. Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

Actually that’s not entirely true. There’s a loophole that will carry you into your golden years, loved and desired… your husband’s oneitis.

So if you are an older girl, yes you’re getting older, but you don’t just throw on sweatpants, give up and plan to negotiate for alimony, chocolate ice cream and cats. You age gracefully. You exercise, you wear makeup, you play with him, you keep your game on. Yes it’s all building a sand castle below the high tide mark, but that’s what life is all about anyway. You battle to the end in a mighty effort, repairing, rebuilding, until that one wave that’s unstoppable washes over it all and it’s finally gone. It’s hopeless, it’s always been hopeless, but that’s okay.

If you’re a woman, if you keep your attractiveness together as best you can, that’s going to trigger his oneitis, his memory of the young you imprinted on him. You’ll be fifty-three and dancing with him, a shot of your cleavage, your smell, your touch, those same adoring eyes… and you’re twenty-three again. Maybe no one else sees it, but he will, because he has oneitis. He’ll look around at all the other husbands with chubby screechtards and think to himself, relative to everyone else, he’s got it really good.

But leave it too long. Don’t bother trying. Ignore him. Shun him from your bed. Eventually the scales will fall from his eyes.

If you’re a husband, the dread of relative and absolute Sex Rank can wake her up. Indeed if it does, it’s potentially doing her a favor. She shouldn’t confuse the fiction of older women in the dating market with the reality of it.

The truth is, most husbands idly fantasize about hooking up with younger women, I mean I do. But given a choice between a bunch of hook ups, short term relationships an/or a soft harem of younger women… most husbands would still choose their wife provided they had reasonable assurance there would be a good sex life with her. The kids, the history, the aroma of… pie.

Personally I don’t need Jennifer to be twenty again. Forty is fine. Just a good forty.


Dread Game and the Gym

One of the hard things about running the MAP and exercising is that it’s slow going. Especially at the start. That first 6 to even 12 months can be not much more than laying the groundwork for pulling out of Phase One and into Phase Two and Three. Other women throwing themselves at you might be a loooooong way off.

Something you can do early on though to create the sense that you’re actually serious about changing and are making progress toward fitness goals, is to update her periodically your improvements. For example I’m on a four day cycle of (1) upper body, (2) lower body, (3) rest/light day, (4) cardio hell.

Cardio Hell is the exercise bikes in the gym and going pretty much as hard as I can for an hour. The first time I did it I only managed 40 minutes before wanting to get off. The next time I did 11.3 miles according to the bike. Last time I did 12.0 miles. Today I did 12.4. Each time I either texted Jennifer or told her. We were at the gym together today so obviously she saw it as well.

My actual numbers aren’t wildly important, just the progression in improvement. It could be 4 miles, 4.3 miles, 4.7 miles. The message is the same… dude is getting fitter. I do the same with the Leg Press on leg day. I did X! I did X+20! I did X+40!! Rwar!  Jennifer really is impressed by it.

There’s no threat here, just natural excitement that you’re progressing. Her hamster will kick in and do the heavy lifting supplying a sense of growing dread that you’re getting hotter.

Of course Jennifer has been doing the same thing right back to me. Running and shit. Bitch. Crap, she’s really working hard here. Wow. Hmmm.

Jennifer: It’s not a competition lol. We do both feel better and that’s what’s important. Okay…it’s a competition….but you’ll always win at weights so I can win at running.

You’re Late, You’re Late, For A Very Important Date

Via text…

Athol: I’m going to Big Steve’s for lunch. Free?

Jennifer:  OMG yes. Meet you there in 20? You can order for me if you want.

Athol: What do you want?

Jennifer: Lobster soup, or whatever other soup if there’s no lobster.

Athol: K

Athol: 1pm

Jennifer: Kk

Okay first things first. Big Steve’s is in Plainville, Connecticut. If you’re within striking distance, it’s worth the trip for a proper burger. Yeah, yeah I know it involves bread, sorry Paleonazi’s, but if you’re going to have a burger it’s a good, “homemade” burger and no more expensive than McDonalds. I get it with lettuce, cheese, mustard, ketchup, raw onions and a fried egg. I know the egg sounds weird, just trust me on it.

I could have been all Lord Alpha and just ordered whatever and Jennifer would have eaten it because she’s like that. I was actually thinking she wanted a burger and if she texted me what she wanted, I’d not have to remeber it because it would be on my phone. As it was… lobster soup… oh yeah… that’s her Plan B dish here. So glad I didn’t order a burger.

Anyway… I said meet at 1pm because that would have been 26 minutes after Jennifer said “Meet you there in 20?”

You know where this is going.

I was there at 12:58 and ordered the food.

At 1:02…. Jennifer: Traffic on Queen St. Coming!”

Check the GPS app as the food arrives… [Jennifer is 3.2 miles away]

Well seeing the office is 3.4 miles away, I don’t think she even left until 1pm. Meaning, yeah traffic (I believe her there was traffic), but she didn’t even leave until 1pm. Meaning she was always going to be late. Hmmm…. I’m actually mildly annoyed by that. The food is already here.


(1)  Tell her off about being late. Be grumpy.

(2) Scamper about finding a cover for her soup and just pick at my fries healthfood until she arrives because it’s rude to start eating before anyone else.

(3)  Pretend everything is fine and make her pay somehow.

(4)  Cover her soup with napkins keeping the heat in a little better. Just start eating my burger.

Jennifer arrived about 1:10… to the scene of (4) the soup a little cooled and then we had a fun lunch.

So, let’s analyze the options and why I choose (4)

Once upon a time I probably would have done something even worse than (2), as in not even order until my date arrived, even if we had agreed I would order in advance. The improvement to that anxious behavior being brave enough to order, but then freaking out like a lost minion once the food arrived. (2) Just telegraphs fear of displeasing her, a very low display of value.

(3) Is somewhat of an addition to (2). Having let myself get anxious and freaked out, now I’m just brave enough to sucker punch you somehow on something else. It’s indirect rage and very ineffective. She won’t even have a clue why I got her back either. Passive-aggressive sucks.

(1) Is almost right. It’s better than (2) and (3), at least I’m standing up for myself and demanding to be taken seriously. But it’s also just a little much… it’s a spur of the moment lunch. For all I know Jennifer had to cram 45 minutes of work into 26 minutes to make her date with me. There really was traffic. I might unwittingly punish her for making an effort to be with me. That makes everything a net negative experience = “Lunch with Athol is unfun ” = “Unsexy”

The correct answer is (4). She was late and the natural consequence of being late was that her food was slightly sub-optimal in tempature. I was on on time and my burger was great. Because it was a natural consequence, it’s not me punishing her. It’s low key, straightforward and not me taking it personally. If she had complained, I’d just parrot back, “We agreed I’d order this to be ready at 1pm, you were late, not my fault.”

Anyway… I am of course writing about all this, so it’s potentially also a pot shot at her and potential (3), but jeepers… it’s just soup and I know Jennifer well enough to know that she runs and then she hop, hop, hops and wishes she could fly and I was semi-suprised she could even make lunch in the first place.  Besides, I really only wanted a defense for eating a huge hamburger. I don’t have to watch what I eat on a date right?

Jennifer:  If I’m late, does that make you the Mad Hatter?