Frame is a word: [specialized] that means the lock you have on a woman, maintained through psychological discipline. In the world of Pick-Up Artists, frame is crucial.

Personally, I — Xloveli — don’t need frame. I can dispense with it. I have a leader’s urge to control, to dominate … to shower my seed on the heads of all women, willing or unwilling.

I’ve never understood why the wife should be considered an “equal partner” in the division of the wealth — wealth that was made by the man. A marriage ought to be a purely social contrivance, not a melding of all assets under heaven and sky and a full flowering merger of every cell of your body.

If you’re a natural biological leader, you’re going to have frame built-in in your essence-equipment as a matter of course. Your essence will be brave, domineering, implacable. Subordinating chicks to your bent knee is just an automatic response.

When I met Sarah Jans on the computer, over the internet, I was immediately drawn to something about her. She was intelligent and lively. And contained a world of potential obedience. Subconsciously, I decided I wanted to test her out. Consciously, I just went ahead and did it. Over a short time, Sarah Jans became Echo, and I became Janus, the 2-headed God of Doorways in Ancient Roman parlance.

My “frame” was so strong and unshakable that I could (a) give her 5 orgasms in one day; (b) make her slice open her hand when she had done something (I forget what now, it was that minor) to displease me. As she bled over her keyboard, she learned what it meant to cross Janus/Xloveli.

“Frame” is only necessary if you’re a sub-leader or beginning to explore who you really are at a very young age. If you believe in yourself utterly there’s no need for it. It’s like breathing air: it just comes to you naturally.

It’s possible to abuse “frame” by warping yourself out of shape to achieve it. If you’re not ready to command women, all your attempts at disciplining them will backfire in your face. Chicks have a keen nose for fakery of all kinds (except when you profess love for them; that they’ll swallow unhesitatingly as if starved for it) and the fakery of frame is one of the most eagerly scented by the inferior sex. Filthholes of all races and creeds are trained to know who is the alpha male and who is trying to “fake it until [he] makes it.”

I don’t think beta males should strive to be alpha males. I think they should just leave well enough alone. Let’s face facts: an alpha male cannot be created from scratch, he can only be further molded from the right materials. A good example of a beta male who could never overcome his origins was Roosh Valizadeh.

Roosh was forever lamenting why he couldn’t use smiley faces in his texts on the cell phone. In his videos: [personal] on YouTube, he had Sad Eyes ™. His Sadness was transmitted through the picture as he struggled to find the One True Girl for him who would love him for who he was. But the problem was, who he was was a Beta, and women sniff and are indifferent to Betas. They want Alpha excitement, that Alpha jizz juice, that Alpha romance & way about the world. The most interesting man in the world may drink Dos Equis but he bleeds Alpha.

And that’s just the way it is. *spreads hands wide* Look, I know you Betas want to be attractive as Alphas. But you want to cheat. To properly cheat, you have to know how to pull a scam — and you Betas aren’t natural-born scammers either. You’re not natural lovers, you’re definitely not natural seducers, and you aren’t natural-born scammers. You’re just … you. You want to be loved for you … a defective fork in a drawer full of chopsticks: [wooden].

Your Asian essence is off-putting. You stink like Old Spice gone bad with one look from your doe eyes and your eager willingness to put your tongue between a girl’s filthy thighs and your interest in dominatrices and being sexually “forced to submit” by a woman. The Kink is Strong in this one, Yoda.

Plain vanilla alpha wins the day every time. Just ram it in her. Suck her titties, kiss her lips, but leave any lip-locking to lower-breast-and-above on the female anatomy charts. By the way, John Mayer, her body is not a “wonderland” — it’s a cesspool waterfalling out between her legs down to her grubby toes. You accept the decided inferiority of the package as a matter of due course. You don’t celebrate it. She wouldn’t want to be celebrated — you think she feels beautiful? Xloveli feels beautiful. She doesn’t. Rightly so. So stop your worshipping of her toes, John Mayer Betaman, and learn to plug her anus with your hard-on.