How to Drive a Cheating Girlfriend to Suicide

Tl;dr: My psycho PUA friend finds out his gf cheated, beats the shit out of her, then wants to know how to get her back. I suggest the cold shoulder treatment. Four days and many ignored calls/emails later, she texts him a suicide threat at 5am, he ignores it, and she takes a bunch of sleeping pills with alcohol.

This is a tale of two Gamers, both in their mid to late 20′s, in East Asia. We both had a need to reverse the provider dynamic (live off our girlfriends), for different reasons. One of us succeeded, and the other blew up.

Let’s start with me.

I found it necessary to quit my job and experiment with my diet to correct the worsening effects of the SAD (Standard American Diet) on my system. It took me two years to find something that didn’t leave me crippled by Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, psychologically altered and deadened by food intolerances, and in frequent pain from excruciating gut cramps.

Since I had expected it would only take me a couple of months to find a cure when I quit my job, this left me deeply impoverished. I had to live off my girlfriend’s income.

If at any time my LTR game (LTR = long-term relationship) had failed, I would’ve had to start working again and move back in with my parents – which would’ve vastly diminished the probability that I’d ever find a cure. The type of experimentation necessary frequently left me incapacitated for days or weeks. I had no hope of maintaining the discipline necessary to avoid cheating if I was also working full time.

Now to my friend, “Sam.” Unlike me, he was perfectly healthy. However, he’d found very indifferent success in a couple of business ventures he’d tried after college. He had spent most of his money and time learning a second language instead of working, essentially completing a post-graduate education. And he wanted to jumpstart his career with his rich, well-connected girlfriend, instead of taking a normal job and working his way up the ladder like a chump.

Introducing the Murder Weapon – the Cold Shoulder

I won’t bore you with the story of how I maintained my pimp hold over my girlfriend during two years in which my bank account, external status, social life and health plummeted to zero and stayed there for extended periods. There were narrow scrapes and rocky patches, but always I learned from mistakes, refined my “cripple game,” and gradually everything became smooth and buttery.

Narciso Babaero writes that a healthy relationship requires a 3/5 ratio of beta/alpha traits. Despite my many disabilities, I had one advantage over Sam – I grew up in a stable, loving family. This gave me a genuine core of warm, healthy beta energy to anchor the relationship. Mostly I needed only to work on the alpha half of my game.

I will discuss one technique I developed, however, since it figures largely in the story of Sam.

The nuclear weapon in my arsenal, I quickly learned, was the “cold shoulder.” This means ignoring the girl, not in an angry or hurt way, but with simple indifference. It can take a variety of forms, the strongest of which is leaving the house for a while.

The effect? Cool withdrawal stimulates her fear of abandonment by an indifferent higher-value male, the womb-fear of losing the father of her unborn child. I exhibit the pure ice flowing through my veins, the ability to turn on a dime and walk away…forever. Not with words, but with subcommunicated energy that flows straight into her hindbrain.

And inevitably she melts, her forebrain shit-tests dissolving into moist and abject hind-brain supplication.

This I do without malice or heat. It is simply an application of the necessary force, and no more.

I even do it with compassion, understanding that she is helplessly responding to her emotional programming. I know that she will be much happier when properly broken again.

I want to emphasize the compassion part. When a woman detects value incongruence in her mate, she must shit test to ensure her offspring’s survival. She could’ve tried to resist her instincts, but that would’ve only made it harder for me to diagnose and respond appropriately.

I have affection and love for my girlfriend. I appreciate the qualities that partially differentiate her from other women. But I understand that at the womb-core, all women are the same. If she shit-tests me, I don’t get angry, anymore than I blame a billiard ball for rebounding off a buffer. Instead, I take responsibility.

Anyway, I never needed more than 2 hours of cold shoulder to bring her to heel, and usually it took only 20 to 30 minutes. Happily, I’ve not had to deploy the cold shoulder in a long, long time. It’s a corrective for bad Game, not part of a healthy relationship.

(One technical note: A cold shoulder can never seem to be in direct response to a shit test, or it will escalate forebrain involvement rather than bypassing it. It must seem spontaneous and genuine. If she asks, always deny you’re using the technique.

So for example, if she demands that you get a job, you must first agree, act like it’s a non-issue, THEN apply the cold shoulder. Otherwise she’ll assume you’re punishing her reactively, and you will lose value and get more shit tests.)

The Blissful Life of Good LTR Game

The fruits of an LTR properly tended, O my brothers, are sweet. Let me relate a vignette from today.

I’ve begun working again and had to make a trip to pay off a debt. On the way, I stopped at a grocery store and picked up a small bag of Goldfish crackers, a box of Pocky sticks, and some roasted seaweed. Total cost – $6.50.

Normally I don’t buy her gifts, but she’d gotten a cold, so I felt like doing something nice.

I had to call her at work to tell her to research something for me. So I mentioned I’d gotten her a surprise.

When she got back, we did the usual greeting dance, mostly “hey bitch” and groping on my part. Then I picked up the bag, and she got excited, asking if that was the surprise.

(I swear to you, I’m still laughing about this right now.)

I lifted my chin, pursed my lips, and held my hand up high, just like you would tell a dog to sit before getting a treat. Making her work for the reward. I was thinking of Cesar Millan (the Dog Whisperer) in the back of my head. She sort of danced a bit in place.

“Shake your boobs,” I told her. She complied. I laughed and groped the presented offering, then pulled out the Goldfish. She went “aaaah!” and started babbling about how she used to eat these when she was a kid. I queried her about that for a few seconds, enjoying her enjoyment, then said, “Ok, now shake your ass.” Same procedure again, and I pulled out the Pocky sticks. Bigger reaction this time.

By this time she’s pretty much invading my personal space, so while I’ve still got an arm free I say, “Aaaand…” and pull out the last one, the roasted seaweed.

She goes nuts. Excitement turns to deep emotion. It’s her favorite, apparently. I hadn’t known, just remembered in the grocery store that I’d seen her eat it a long time ago.

Whether it’s actually her favorite, or it was just the built up excitement of the compliance/reward cycles, doesn’t matter. The point is, we both had a good time, I still get to chuckle about it, and that’s how a good LTR should be. Oh, and shortly thereafter she cheerfully propositioned me for sex.

(I can’t resist one last detail…first thing this morning was, “Baby, I like the fish cookie!”)

…And the Horrors of Bad LTR Game

Well, so much for the fields of Elysium. Now let me be your guide into the lower depths of Hades.

Yea, unto the Seventh Circle, the middle ring…the vale of suicides.

First, let’s establish some background on this second LTR.

Sam is a child of divorce, with deep social rejection scars in from elementary and high school, and a middle-class but very dysfunctional, value-taking, manipulating, negative father. He was raised by his mother. He has psychopathic tendencies and abandonment/ostracism issues, tends to view the world through an antagonistic lens, creates conflict wherever he goes, and tends strongly to monomania. He has brushes with law enforcement and/or violence every few months.

He has racked up an impressive string of conquests in East Asia via nightclub and day game, with some quite attractive girls. He adheres to RSD dogma and goes out very regularly. He has not been faithful to his girlfriend, but the relationship is very emotionally significant for him. She represents that he’s “arrived.” She’s tall, big tits, high-class, the top of the nightclub food chain. Plus, she’s got many important connections in her country, so he also views her as his meal-ticket. “Arriving” is very important to Sam, who often comments on Ferraris and Porsches that go by and the rich people who drive them.

Sam’s girlfriend, “May,” had a previous long-term relationship that ended with an abortion. She has a massive entitlement complex from being the princess at a nearly all-male prestigious academy. She has gotten her way with everything her whole life and acts like an autocrat…when drunk. When sober she’s pretty damn nice. She likes alphas, naturally. But she bears psychological scars from her previous failed relationship and is very focused on marriage and children. She’s 24ish, but in East Asia, biological clocks tick faster – 30 is the expiration date.

So, we have two type-A fucked up people in a relationship with severe fundamental conflicts. The result is a massively oscillating drama train, as any idiot could guess.

One more thing – my girlfriend has observed, and I can confirm, that Sam is more into May than May is into Sam.

This is primarily due to Sam’s ineptness and uncomfortableness with beta energy. With him, it comes from a place of neediness and abandonment rather than abundance. He also doesn’t provide enough of it to balance his alpha energy, resulting in a girlfriend starved of affection/commitment/love. This is problematic since they are frequently long-distance for long periods. When they’re together, the alphaness takes over and he bangs the shit out of her, turning her to butter. That works most of the time, except for the blowups. But when they’re apart, things deteriorate badly and fluctuate wildly.

Amplifying the problem, Sam doesn’t believe in marriage and kids, at least not right now, and out of some commitment to honesty has explicitly told his girlfriend so. (Which causes a massive reduction in the relationship’s beta energy.)

Sam is addicted to pushing boundaries and seeing how far he can take things while remaining in control. He calls this “getting reference experiences,” an abuse of an RSD concept. It is in fact merely him indulging his psychopathic nature and rationally justifying it. This results in his frequent brushes with the law and violence. It also means that he enjoys this cycle of starving his girlfriend of beta, then pounding her with alpha to bring her back into line. He views this as good Game. It is not.

I don’t know the full dynamics of his long distance game, mostly because as soon as I start hearing about it I immediately start criticizing. But recently, I learned he regarded it as normal to be calling and texting her constantly while she wasn’t picking up and telling him “fuck you,” “I don’t want to be with you,” etc. He would respond by simply bearing down on her, saying things like, “Fuck you, you WILL make this money for me (talking about her connections),” etc.

I’ve long been a critic of Sam’s long distance game, encouraging him to use Hypnotica’s phone sex techniques to lock that down. By this, I mean you call your girl 2-3 times per week, for about 15 minutes each, late at night when she’s alone in bed. You talk dirty to her till she comes. Then she passes out and you get on with your life. Beyond that, all you need is a little text or chat or email contact, and she’ll stay in your orbit indefinitely.

If you DON’T make her come regularly, in my experience the influence of your cock will begin to fade, resulting in an increasing amplitude and frequency of shit tests, long drawn-out logical discussions with her seeking intimacy, and all other manner of obnoxious shit that I simply don’t have time for.

But Sam has always confidently blown me off, telling me how when they’re together everything’s perfect, and that on the phone he can get her to where she’s fine, she’s totally fine, she’s great. He must’ve been blinded by the ego boost that having this chick provides him, and the gratification of indulging his psychopathic nature in this continual cycle of conflict/submission.

I also recently learned that May resists having an orgasm with him. I assumed he meant over the phone, which is common and something you have to push through. Then I learned, no, he meant *in person*, while they were actually fucking. He attributed this to her psychological scars from the abortion and failed relationship.

So here we have six things that simply didn’t make any sense to me about their relationship, given the absolutely confident way Sam was portraying it:

1. “Red zone” levels of controlling boyfriend/rebellious girlfriend behavior during long distance stretches.
2. Long periods apart with no phone sex to climax.
3. She refuses to orgasm (WTF?).
4. Frequent blowups.
5. Apparent relationship imbalance observed in body language when they’re together.
6. Explicitly telling her no marriage, no kids when she desperately wants that.

It’s difficult to gain insight into a relationship you’re not a part of. I didn’t know if Sam was doing some brilliant sweet talking and not telling me. After all, he was very effective at getting flings and ONS’s.

I did start talking to him very seriously about the relationship once I learned about 1 and 3, which were recent revelations.

But ultimately, I just wasn’t paying much attention. In hindsight, I should’ve done the math.

The Reactor Goes Critical

Things came to a head last weekend, late at night.

Sam prided himself on not being a suspicious boyfriend. Based on RSD philosophy, he viewed that as contemptible and beneath him. He was certain his Game, honed monomaniacally for years, would protect him from getting cheated on. And he was particularly certain that May would not cheat on him. They’d been together two years, and he’d been faithful to her for the last 6 months. They were just about to embark on a trip to meet up with her contacts and start a business together.

He was so unconcerned that when May mentioned a nice French guy who was her neighbor on the phone with him a while back, he said, “Oh realllllly, yeah, I’m sure he’s real nice,” signaling that he knew some kind of flirtation was going on, and that he was unthreatened by it. (When a girl mentions another guy to you and you’re long distance, that’s usually the new guy she’s banging – something Sam apparently didn’t know or chose to ignore.)

But that night, as they were preparing to go out, Sam walked into the room and saw May quickly close her email. Despite all his confidence and his philosophy of non-suspicion, Sam decided there was something weird about the way May had closed the browser window so quickly. She hadn’t logged out properly, so he re-accessed her email. Inside her sent box, she found a note to the French guy – a lover’s note.

It was full of future projections of travel, statements of love, hugs and kisses, and talk of marriage. The guy had left East Asia and gone back to France. May was doing her sweetest to bring him back, promising she would wait for him. The date on the email showed she’d sent it after Sam had returned, ending several months of separation, and after they’d been fucking.

[She wrote to the French guy] “…like it was ME, dude,” he told me later, his voice shattered. And then he muttered, letting it slip out just before he tried to pull it back, “but almost more into it…”

As he read the email, his reality came crashing down, replaced by overwhelming rage.

Pop quiz. What do you think our young psychopath with violent tendencies did next?

• A. Beat the shit out of her, hard enough to impair vision in one of her eyes.
• B. Create a disturbance loud enough for two police vans to be called.
• C. Narrowly avoid arrest by fleeing (with her).
• D. Dissolve into tears in an alleyway (with her), and say he’d been considering marrying her (which was true…my suggestion).
• E. All of the above.

If you guessed “E,” you win a Golden Drama award. Please pick up your prize by telling this story to the next chick you pick up, as if it happened to YOUR friend “just recently.”

During this alley crying episode, more of the facts came out. She claimed it was only with the French guy, that it was because Sam was all about the money, and didn’t want to marry her, and she needed to get married and have children.

The drama of the beating had its effect on her. She was taking his hand and hitting her face with it while he was crying. The crying was worse for her than the beating. She kept saying how it was nobody’s fault, etc. But she was also telling him that if she left now, it would be over forever.

I guess he finally put her in a cab and sent her off somewhere. Probably back to the apartment to get her stuff. Then he had to roam around the city alone to let the heat cool off before he could also return to the scene and collect his stuff.

That’s when he called me, asking what to do. I told him to avoid the police, get out of the city, and do these three things:

1. Cut off all contact with the chick. Apply the cold shoulder.
2. Get laid to break his funk. (He was massively depressed and broken.)
3. Use this time to get religion. Get a Bible.

He did buy a Bible and did leave the city. But he was very resistant to the cold shoulder idea. He wanted revenge, total revenge. He wanted to email the French guy to inform him he’d been banging the chick while they’d been emailing about love. He hoped that it would break things up between them, ruin her chances with him.

With great difficulty, I convinced him that this would only drive her more strongly towards the French guy. It would make him appear reactive and weak.

Far more painful would be the indifferent withdrawal of an alpha who contemptuously found no more use for her. The cold shoulder was the best way to inflict maximum psychological pain. By indifferently abandoning her to the French guy, who was still pursuing, it would make the French guy look like the one with fewer options and lower value, the lesser man. Paradoxically, it would be the best way to break up their relationship. And it would leave Sam with the most “hand” (short for “upper hand”) with May.

Converted to this new plan for revenge, he agreed.

Mind you, I didn’t intend it as a way for him to get revenge, I just wanted to tell him his best Game option.

This all happened Friday night.

4 days later, after almost exactly 96 hours of “cold shoulder”, May attempted suicide.

She used sleeping pills and alcohol. She was found and taken to the hospital. I don’t have further information on her condition, but this kind of thing can shorten life expectancy significantly by causing permanent organ damage.

One of Daniel Rose’s harem once described the feeling of being apart from her alpha for a medium period like “traveling through a burning desert.” The experience of actual womb-abandonment by an alpha must be like meta-death. In evolutionary terms, it usually was.

96 hours of cold shoulder is 43 times longer than I’ve ever used it on my girlfriend. Not to mention the compounding emotional factors – the beating, the cheating, the weeping, the fucking.

I didn’t see it coming, and damn, I really should’ve. I’m just not calibrated to that level of drama. Let this be a warning to any player who uses the cold shoulder…not only can it crush, it can kill.

Well, enough of that. Let’s back up a bit and trace the cruel progression that ground May’s psyche down to nothing.

How a Girl Was Driven to Despair

As mentioned, Sam was initially convinced to use the cold shoulder purely for revenge. He told me he wanted to completely own her like an object, and use her up and kick her to the curb like a used condom. I told him this was fucked up and wrong. That he should have pity for the girl. That this was about necessity, not malice.

I further explained that he was around 1/5 beta/alpha ratio, and that May cheating was as predictable as physics. His horrendous game had left her open to finding solace elsewhere, and she was attractive enough to have options. That’s all. The fact that she hooked up with a French guy, notorious for their needy and cheesily effusive game, makes perfect sense. He filled the void Sam’s game left.

Sam gradually began to come around on the pity idea a little bit, but it was slow going. I never once heard him volunteer the sentiment.

Anyway, as expected, the initial effect of the cold shoulder was an increasing barrage of texts and emails from May.

When Sam and May last parted in the alley, she had been saying things like, “If I go now, I’m gone forever,” and, “Maybe there’s some possibility, we can talk.” Now, with no word from him, she began to send explanations and justifications of her behavior, and criticisms of Sam, and statements about what she wanted in life.

I told Sam to ignore this. No point in rewarding it.

Next she started sending shit tests and guilt trips. And began to show concern that he was alright. I told Sam, “Let her finish.”

After that, her texts started to get increasingly needy and desperate, and contain fewer and fewer shit tests. They became more satisfying to Sam’s wounded ego.

Then she started recruiting friends to message on her behalf.

She threatened to fly home if she didn’t hear from him. I told Sam to let her. Prove indifference. Let her run all the way back to her support network, and find no solace even there. Cuckoldry deserves a maximum strength response.

She went back home. More appeals came from a friend(s).

I’m not really sure what was happening at this point. Sam stopped giving me details beyond just “a barrage of texts and emails.”

In hindsight, I think he must’ve stopped telling me their contents because they no longer contained shit tests.

And that’s where the advice sort of broke down.

I was only getting one side of the picture. I didn’t get the texts. When I asked him later, he told me that the shit tests had dropped off logarithmically towards the end, leaving only desperation and neediness. But I had difficulty convincing Sam to feel the pity for her that was her due. So at the time I had no information to gauge when she was approaching her breaking point.

And Sam was not going to be moved to pity. He was going to take my advice literally, and wait until she completely stopped sending messages. When what I had meant was, let all the shit tests and bullshit work itself out of her system, until her hindbrain is like putty again.

So… when Sam got a suicide threat from May at 5 am Wednesday night, he blew it off as a bluff.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.

At what point, if not here, does it become plausible that a girl might attempt suicide?

Waiting on Schrödinger’s Half-Dead Cat

Sam asked me about the suicide threat a few hours later, at around noon on Wednesday. He hadn’t heard anything further from May, but he assumed she was still sleeping. He assured me he didn’t think she would do anything. Right, because you’ve been such a great judge of her character so far.

I told him it was possible she had indeed committed suicide. The magic hour was when he got the text, while she was alone in bed, completely depressed, aching for his call. He should’ve swooped in right then, and opened with, “Geez, don’t kill yourself.” Then take the frame that he was only talking to her to save her life, and go from there.

Why didn’t Sam do that? Well, it turns out that his father had threatened to commit suicide in front of him with a paring knife when he was a little kid, to psychologically manipulate him. Sam hadn’t called his bluff, and had always burned about that humiliation.

Sam explained to me that he didn’t want to set a precedent that May could make him react by threatening to commit suicide. He felt this would allow her to control him.

I repeat: Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.

This is like, the worst error I have ever seen in Game. It speaks of a complete lack of empathy. It’s using nightclub-level control games to refuse to extend your finger and punch a single fucking cellphone button to save someone’s life. A PERSON YOU LOVE.

Sweet Sodomizing Saint Darwin of the Fornicating A-neurotypical.

Game is supposed to restore lives, not end them.

That afternoon I discussed Sam’s psychopathic tendencies with him, and his need for more beta energy, while we waited to find out if his girlfriend had indeed attempted suicide. At least I waited; he was confident she hadn’t done anything. I suggested once again he read the Bible, explaining that it was a wellspring of the healthy beta energy that comes from abundance, not neediness.

Then we found out from a friend that May had been hospitalized, and her condition was not good.

Sam melted down like he had when he first found out she’d cheated. He hadn’t wanted it to go that far.

Lessons and Future Beatings

Given the gravity of the situation, I told Sam he had to book a flight and go see May immediately.

“They’re not gonna be too happy to see me,” he said, referring to her family.

No kidding. When she’d shown up to her parents and they’d seen her face (the bruises from the beating), they’d been shocked…and furious. May had told them “No, no, it was my fault.” Surely they’d be even angrier now.

Sam booked the flight. However, he expressed concern that he might be killed. Many of May’s connections are of the underground criminal, government and military nature. This is a girl that many, many guys have been orbiting for a long time. He’s walking into a fucking lion’s den. He leaves in a few hours.

Sam’s in a far, far worse position now than he would’ve been had he simply answered her suicide text Tuesday night at 5am. Her parents may not let him see her at all. She will need a recovery period at the minimum and his business plans with her will have to wait. However, he will probably not be murdered. My girlfriend, who is of the same nationality as the parents, predicts nothing more severe than a beating or two from her parents and possibly an orbiter.

Lessons learned? I have two:

1. Don’t ignore a girl’s credible suicide threat during an emotionally-charged cold shoulder of extreme duration, and…
2. Don’t make a psychopath into a better manipulator.

Joseph Dantes writes at his blog.