There’s a little boy who used to attend my daughter’s previous pre-school, though he just got kicked out. This is the second or third school where he’s gotten the boot. He’s four, just about to turn five, and you’d think he already has a criminal record the way the neighborhood women gossip about him.

You know after about thirty seconds in this kid’s presence that he’s destined for a life of Ritalin, getting scolded by teachers, and scraping by via the skin of his teeth. He’s a nice kid – friendly, social – but very, very high energy. Passionate about everything, no matter how unimportant, to the point where he throws things and hits people. He’s not emotionally disturbed, or actually trying to hurt anybody. He doesn’t need psychiatric help for emotional disorders or meds to numb him or anything like that. He’s just a victim of shitty parenting, no boundaries, and teachers who don’t want to deal with him and pass him off, so he doesn’t know what to do with his abundance of energy or how to cope with things when he gets frustrated.

I’m not saying he’d be a model of excellence under other circumstances. He probably actually has ADHD or is slightly on the Asperger edge of the spectrum. He’d probably benefit from medical intervention, at least until he learns socially acceptable coping skills. But the thing that would give him the greatest benefit is a system that actually deals with him and improves him instead of a system designed to make life as easy for the system as possible. That and better parenting.

In the last two schools he was asked to leave, the triggering event that earned him the boot was hitting girls. He scuffles with boys, too, but the boys generally fight back, there’s discipline involved for both parties, and nobody’s kicked out. But girls at that age tend to react in shock when physically confronted. They’re not used to it. They just buckle down and scream and cry.

Hitting boys is still a big deal, but hitting girls is treated as an unforgivable slice of awful.

So my wife was chatting with another girl’s mother whose child still attends the latest pre-school, and the gossip is that this young boy “doesn’t like girls.” As the conversation goes on, it comes up that his father is “a man’s man” and “that’s probably where he gets it.” Because as we all know, muscular and professionally successful men who do manly work in their garages and back yards and toss the football with their kids take a lot of extra time to teach their sons misogyny, mostly through example by mistreating their hot wives who clearly only stay with these men due to the extreme low self-esteem and lack of confidence that plagues all super-hot women with designer clothes and purses.

It was a very funny thing to think about, because if you look at this without the emotions in play, a kid who hits everybody that frustrates him – guy or girl – is definitely a messed up kid, but he’s the least sexist kid at the school. The ones who don’t hit girls, because they’re girls, are actually sexist, because they’re treating girls differently and more gently on account of their sex. Already, at age 4, they’ve been indoctrinated with the mentality that girls are weaker, lesser – inferior – and that you don’t hit them because they can’t take it the way you can. Because you’ll get into extra trouble if you hit a girl.

It was also kind of funny thinking about his dad and the idea that “a man’s man” is so likely to be a misogynist. Buff, socially apt, confident guys who play sports all through high school, fuck cheerleaders, join a cool frat in college, fuck sorority sisters, and go on to get a cush job through their social connections tend to be the least sexist guys out there. These guys actually like and appreciate women. They’ve been around women all their lives and interact with them like normal human beings.

It’s the scrawny/fat, socially awkward, under-confident guys who suck at sports, suck at social situations, and never got a date all through high school or college that are bitter and hate women. Yet none of the women in the neighborhood accuse the fat, stand-offish, socially awkward engineer with the domineering Type-A wife who lives at the end of our road of being sexist. But you should hear the crap he spouts on poker night after a few beers. His daughter has issues so extreme that her mom pulled her out of public school to home-school her. Of course, none of the women in the neighborhood really acknowledge his existence at all. Not even his wife, most of the time. He’s kind of invisible, never invited to social functions, only around when his wife brings him. He has an awesome computer in his office, though. He might even be reading this right now.

Manly men like and appreciate women. They treat women like people. It’s the white knights and the womanized losers that make up the large majority of misogynists.

Back when Japan was cool, sex and relationships were respected. Almost revered. Husbands and wives, who loved each other fiercely, rarely touched in public. That intimacy was something for them alone. Dancing was considered a perverted hobby. Dates were formal, not casual.

People didn’t typically go through the dance of “How are you – I’m fine.” Asking somebody how they were feeling was a legitimate expression of concern, not small-talk. You would ask that if somebody actually looked unwell. Instead, to make small-talk, you’d ask, “The weather is nice, isn’t it?” Independent of the actual state of the weather, the respondent would reply, “Yes, it is”, or indicate that he or she found the weather to be unpleasant. Whether or not someone found the weather to be pleasant was an indication of that person’s mood. Nobody had to say, “My day sucks.” Instead, they said, “It’s a little hot for my taste”, and everyone knew that person was having a shitty day. Nobody had to complain or put up with someone else’s complaining.

After a date, a man might ask a woman, “Do you like coffee in the morning?” The woman’s stance on coffee really didn’t matter. If she wanted to spend the night in his apartment, she would indicate that she does like coffee. If she didn’t, she would state that she did not prefer coffee. Asking her, “Wanna come up and fuck?” would not be treating sex with the proper reverence. Questions about coffee gave both parties plausible deniability. She was just agreeing to coffee, not sex. Or she was just turning down coffee, rather than painfully rejecting the guy.

We’re not so different today, even in the golden age of the slut, where grinding and making out with strangers in clubs is par for the course. Even though women are now sexually liberated and riding random cocks left and right, we still perform a song and dance to distance ourselves from this uncomfortable reality.

You have to be fun. Nobody likes a complainer. So performing small-talk about stupid shit instead of real-talk about what’s going on in your life turns out to be a pretty important aspect of your game. Unlike the Japanese, we can do a little better than talking about the weather in passing, but no woman wants to have a real conversation with you. They just want to see a hot guy, exchange social graces, get a good feel for yours, and if you demonstrate social aptitude, fuck you. Only creepy beta losers in fedoras think that talking about “real, deep” stuff is “interesting” to girls. If you complain about shit or try to have a real conversation, you’re done. The skill they’re looking for is your ability to have a fake conversation, but drop in very small tidbits of real shit about yourself to keep them hooked and searching for more.

Never complain. Don’t have a real conversation. Don’t look for connections. Keep her guessing about your real self, your real thoughts, and your real feelings, but drop in the occasional juicy morsel to excite her. That’s the fun of the game – for you and for her. Be fun.

One of the other big mistakes you can make is causing a girl to feel like a slut. You know that you want to take her home and have casual sex with her. She wants to go with you and have casual sex. You know she’s a slut. She knows she’s a slut. But if the two of you agree to have casual sex, she is now openly admitting to being a slut. So instead, we say things like “Netflix and chill.”

Netflix and chill is really the perfect expression for casual sex. It gives girls all of the resources they need for deniability. She’s not coming over for casual sex. She’s coming over to watch movies, and hey, if the two of you hit it off and there’s chemistry there, then sex “just happened”. You’re the one who came on to her, so it was your idea – she just came over to watch movies. But she felt the spark and went with it since you seemed so nice – it “just happened”.

Netflix and chill also gives girls an out. If your game sucks and you make her feel awkward, she can exercise her deniability: “What are you doing? You got the wrong idea. I just came over to watch Netflix.” That way, she doesn’t have to reject you, just explain that the two of you had a misunderstanding. Her expression of that misunderstanding is code for “Your game sucks and you blew your chance”, but she doesn’t have to be confrontational about it. This also spares the guy’s feelings. She’s not outright rejecting him, just rejecting the idea that she came over for casual sex.

Women need to feel comfortable to fuck you. You can’t just be an attractive asshole and expect women to jump on your dick. Actually, you can. It happens sometimes, but you’ll be far more successful if you also master the ability to make women comfortable about fucking you. And one of the ways women feel comfortable, for some stupid reason, is running their mouth about nothing. The longer they talk to you about nothing, and the emptier the conversation is, the more they feel like they’ve known you forever and what a strong connection you have.

The very second that shit gets real, women have an immediate spike of discomfort. If you start talking about real stuff instead of fun stuff, things get awkward. If you start acting like you care about her, same deal. If you start being overt about sex and the fact that she’s a slut, even just a little bit, you guessed it – awkward.

This is also where the infamous PUA concept of “last minute resistance” comes into play. A woman can be way into you, having fun, kissing, touching, flirting, agreeing to come back to your apartment and help you feed your fish fully knowing she’s about to get fucked … then there’s this moment when the pants start coming off and shit gets real for her. Once it’s real, it’s awkward and uncomfortable.

But if you played your game right, then by that point, she should already be very comfortable about the fact that: 1) You’re awesome and well worth fucking; 2) If she shits around you won’t care and will probably bail like it’s no big deal; 3) You’re discreet; and 4) You don’t judge her.

Now a lot of people might think that #2 above is some kind of evil manipulation, but that’s actually part of being fun, discreet, and comfortable. If you get all butt-hurt and angry when she starts throwing up some anti-slut, last-minute attempts to get out of sex, that makes shit real. That makes shit awkward and uncomfortable. But if you shrug it off like it’s nothing, then she begins to think that maybe it’s not a big deal that she’s about to fuck you, like it's not all that real -- she can get comfortable again.

We’re playing a game of plausible deniability. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you’re like, what you think, or what you feel. You’re weaving an experience for her – like a dream that just sweeps her away. Fun, comfortable, discreet, non-judgmental. An almost transient experience where “it just happens”, like magic.