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<h1>Five Minutes Of Alpha Syndrome</h1>
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<p class="nav"><span class="nav-left">Listed under <a href="/heartiste-2014.html">Heartiste: 2014</a>.</span><span class="nav-right"><a href="/theme.html">Theme</a></span></p>
<p>From the <a href="https://heartiste.org/2014/10/18/five-minutes-of-alpha-syndrome/" target="_blank">original article</a> on October 18, 2014. Author: <a href="https://heartiste.org/" target="_blank">Chateau Heartiste</a>.</p>
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<p>A reader generously offers a glimpse into the mind of a woman stricken with “five minutes of alpha syndrome”.</p>
<blockquote><p>CH,</p><p>Having been a regular reader of your blog for a while now, I couldn’t quite join-the-dots in the general ‘5-Minutes-Of-Alpha-Beats-5-Years-Of-Beta’ (or variations thereof)<br/> I couldn’t quite see it working in the ‘Real World’.<br/> Until last night.<br/> I contacted a woman from a well-known online-dating site that requires a strong rod and large net.<br/> The woman: 44, 5’8″, Mom-of-one, blonde, pretty, maybe a solid ‘7’ with her war-paint on, separated from nice guy husband of 12 years, recently split from relationship with BF of 7 months.<br/> The Boyfriend: 45, 5’7″, fire-fighter...really average-looking but with serious ‘issues’.</p><p>I was initially pulled-in by her looks and IQ (she’s a smart woman, a buyer, by trade) and a comment she made struck me: “I’m scared I’ll never find the level of intensity I had with my Ex”<br/> Me: “What, with your husband?”<br/> Her: “No! My Bf”<br/> (husband, apparently was a tall, handsome guy, 6’3″, but had two things not going for him: ‘Nice Guy’ and liked to crush a 6-pack each night)</p><p>Anyway, we met.<br/> For a drink, at 20:00pm, a bar not far from where either of us live.<br/> We left at 22:45pm, after each having a single drink each, mainly because of her life-story of the last ‘X’ months with Fire-fighter Bf.<br/> I could wax-lyrical about it, but it’s best set out in list form:<br/> * upon first meeting, she said “the sort of man I wouldn’t look twice at – he’s 5’7″ for God’s sake”<br/> * didn’t even date him for at least 3 months after 1st meeting, and he pestered me daily for a date<br/> * finally met and things took-off (in her words, “sexually, emotionally and mentally...it was intense, daily”)</p><p>Then things start to slide:<br/> * he breaks her left-cheekbone with a straight-right<br/> * deletes names of male co-workers and friends from her iPhone<br/> * secretly hacks into her FB account and sends ‘Don’t contact me again’ messages to male contacts<br/> * constantly, calls, queries and questions her about where she is and who’s she’s out with<br/> * rips her off for 86,000<br/> * finally after 7 months she dumps him and throws him out.</p><p>Cue:<br/> * paint poured over her Audi A3<br/> * hate mail sent daily<br/> * threatening phonecalls made multiple times daily<br/> * bogus online-dating-agency profiles created and setup to monitor her on website<br/> * fellow friends recruited to keep tabs on her<br/> * drives by her home multiple times a day, checking up on her</p><p>Finally, the police are involved.<br/> They urge her to press charges, a) for the physical assault and b) threatening behaviours</p><p>What does she do?<br/> Protects the fuck out him, claims she doesn’t want him to lose his job or get into any trouble.</p><p>And the clincher? She spent the whole 2.45 hr date talking about him (liked to call him ‘Twat-Face’, and this whole sorry episode to me, her supposed date.<br/> No matter what I did, no matter how blasé or cool I was about it....she just looked like she’d rather be anywhere else but on a date with me....<br/> Why?<br/> Because I wasn’t him.</p><p>Thoughts, opinions, rants?</p></blockquote>
<p>Yeah...</p>
<p>Chicks dig jerks. And Ross Douthat handwaved.</p>
<p>Less glibly, yet another reason to avoid a long-term relationship with a woman who has amassed an above-average number of sexual partners in her life is that the odds increase that she has dated, fucked, and fallen deeply in love with an asshole. And though she was able to extricate herself from his intoxicating grip to one day go on a half-hearted date with you, his memory continues to scour her dreamscape. What man who isn’t a desperate loser needs the extra headache?</p>
<p>The girl with a lot of past lovers is never alone. You aren’t sitting across from her at a bar; you’re sitting across from her and all the cockas that rocked her.</p>
<p>My advice:</p>
<p>Date virgins.</p>
<p>Ok, that’s a tall order nowadays.</p>
<p>Your next best options, should an execrable date of this nature ever occur again, are to <a href="/girlfriend-talks-too-much-about-her-exes.html" target="_blank">fight asshole with asshole</a>.</p>
<p>Flirt with another woman in front of her.<br/> Text while she’s talking about her ex.<br/> Keep changing the subject. But make it obvious that’s what you’re doing. Humor helps. <em>“You ever wonder what it’s like to piss in a moving elevator?”</em><br/> Lay down the man law, in so many words.<em> “If you want a shoulder to cry on about your ex, there’s a gay guy I know who’s much better at this. Don’t worry, he won’t judge.”</em><br/> Get up and leave without warning. This is your last card, and it’s an Ace. Don’t be afraid to play it. You shouldn’t be spending three minutes, let alone three hours, of your valuable time listening to a woman bitch about her ex, anyhow. That’s beta male scarcity mentality.</p>
<p>Whatever you do, don’t sound jealous or butthurt. This is a game, treat it like one.</p>
<p>The advantage will be yours because a clear and present asshole trumps an invisible asshole. And given her history, you may be the new asshole who helps her get over her last asshole.</p>
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