I’ve just come back from an idate with a cute little Italian girl I picked up at Trafalgar Square. In itself nothing remarkable so you’ll only hear the story if I end up banging her. As I was ramping up the verbal escalation to test for the SDL she started telling me how her first boyfriend (of six years) was pretty boring and didn’t inspire her to try hard in the bedroom. When I get a girl on this topic I usually start the sexual framing where I’m the superhero and every other guy is shit.I also trotted out this story:

lovable and dependable

Imagine you’ve just passed your driving test so you go out and buy yourself a Fiat Punto. It’s cute and you drive it around the city for a while. You like driving. It’s pleasant, you like being behind the wheel. You like your Punto. After a few years its getting old so you buy another car. You like Puntos, so you buy a newer one. You drive that around some more. It’s comfortable and you’re used to it. You’re a Punto fan.

One day, your friend throws you his car keys. “Here, try my Ferrari”

Me, in metaphor

You get behind the wheel, put your foot down and ….. wow! It’s amazing. You can feel the raw power of the engine throbbing through the seat, your hands shaking as they grip the wheel. Every turn is a perfect grip. The feeling of control and of riding the power is incredible.

You finish the drive with your breath coming fast. Your heart beating. You feel exhillarated. Like walking on air. You throw the keys back to your friend, a huge smile on your face.

And then walk back to your Punto. Your little, cute, slow Punto. It’s just not the same anymore.

Needless to say she was dripping wet at the end of this little story, biting her lips, her mind racing frantically.

I’ve long believed that I should be ending each year in a better position than I started it according to whatever metrics I deem relevant. My pillars of finance, health, career, social, girls…. whatever it happens to be. The metrics will change over my life cycle and according to interests. A man’s life must be an arrow travelling forwards. He needs a mission. Should you ever take your foot off the pedal then the forces of lethargy and mediocrity will take root.

That’s a long-winded way of saying I was thinking about my girl stats for 2012.

Long-suffering readers will be aware how the tone of my blog changed in late 2011 as I went through a cycle of game-revulsion. I changed from the high-approach/high-adventure phase to a low-approach/maturity phase. At the time I thought it was a permanent shift, now I’m not so sure. Perhaps its cyclical. A couple of weeks ago I started reading Tom Torero’s daygame book and it rekindled the old hunger. Like when I walk into a boxing gym and smell the dried sweat on leather, hear the thumping of bagwork, the whistle of a jump rope and I’m immediately in state to train. I was reading his lay reports, his joy/obsession for going out every day, and it reminded me how much I enjoyed it.

The greatest

2012 was the year I switched gears. 2010 was brute-force approaching to get the sets in the bank, with some decent success. 2011 was more brute-force but developing the artistry side and upping the quality. But by the end of 2011 I was still thinking “it shouldn’t have to be such hard work”. There must be a way of making it all easier and more efficient. Thus 2012 I worked hard on lifestyle, masculine value, and removing my niggling career doubts. I cut the approaches right down. Here’s my stats. Estimates because I never tracked numbers.

• Approachs: I’d estimate 250 in total, about 200 outside of the UK. Of the total about 150 went nowhere, 20 idates, about 100 numbers/facebooks with vaying degrees of flakiness.
• Dates: I had day twos with about ten girls who I made out with / got sexual with but didn’t actually bang. There were another five girls where the day two went nowhere at all. The remaining dates led to sex.
• Sex: Seventeen new girls, plus a few continuing on rotation from 2011.

Overall the lesson is I had more sex, better sex, more fun and with higher quality girls. Nonetheless I gradually got the nagging feeling of scarcity as I stopped approaching. It’s important to feel abundance in lead-creation, not merely abundance in having regulars on rotation.

Lately I’ve been rather uninspired in my Skype chats, not really feeling the pull to be fun and creative. That’s not an especially good thing when you want to keep your Euro harem happy. So tonight as I lay tired on my bed with Serb A pestering me for a video chat I decided to leverage the wonders of the internet with these two aids.

A quick google search of “bedtime stories” found some free sites with illustrated stories. I told her to brew a cup of tea, get comfortable and imagine she’s lying next to me as I read a story. Girls like the sound of a man’s slow deep voice, especially non-native speakers because they love the accent and the perfection in a native speaker’s delivery. Then there’s the obvious framing of when her dad used to read her stories. Big time rapport on the cheap.

I read her Pickles The Cat. What a great story for winter when she’s couped up in her apartment most of the day. Framing the big bad world outside as scary and exciting. Get the girl to open the link to read as she listens to you.

Next I teased her a little on how when she’s being feisty she reminds my of Droopy the Dog, then sent her this clip to watch together (from 2:12). Vintage kids cartoons are great for that.

Easy rapport. Everyone’s happy.

I’m afraid I’m uninspired to write this lay report. It was fun and I went to bed afterwards with a smile of satisfaction at a perfectly-executed run through my model but….. it was just workman-like. Nothing special in the circumstance nor the girl. Like Arsenal eking out a 1-0 win away from home in a match that sends the fans to sleep. If you keep going out you’ll rack up many sets like this. Grist to the mill. I’m out with an old buddy SubZero trying to grind my way through some street approaches to build some long term momentum. I feel off the pace, like a footballer trying to get match fit after a long term injury. There’s a niggling approach anxiety, nothing like it used to be a few years ago but enough that there’s still some emotional cost of opening. Once I’m in set everything is calm and relaxed. The old magic is still there but buried undercobwebs.

After a couple of sets I hook a cute petite Colombian girl outside John Lewis. It’s dark now, light streaming from shop windows to give that gutter-game feel. She’s giggling, bantering and its a pretty solid ten minute set. We swap numbers. I continue the banter over a couple of texts then invite her out.

She cancels the first date a few hours in advance because her father has had a stroke. She says she’ll still come out but doesn’t expect to be good company. Naturally I tell her its fine to reschedule. So a couple of days later we meet in front of Top Shop. I don’t get nervous on dates anymore. Its all grist to the mill. She’s a little stand-offish at first which I put down to nerves so I walk her up to The Cock and make idle chit-chat. It’s rammed so we stand at the bar and I begin to lay my vibe on her.

Me: You look like a squirrel. Those big cheeks [I grab her cheek between thumb and forefinger]

Her: No I don’t!

Me: There’s a famous TV character just like you. He’s called Rocky [shows google image on phone]

Her: I do not! [playful hitting]

Ten minutes later while doing some comfort on her background

Me: What’s Bogota like? I’ve never been.

Her: It’s quite a big city, up in the mountains. It’s 2,000 feet above see level

Me: So you do live in the mountains, in a tree. Is that where you store your nuts?

Her: aaaaaaargghh. Stop it!

too easy

This is just routine stuff I lay onto any girl who is a bit short and curvy. Easy meat. Within ten minutes or so she’s in a nice playful vibe and starting to fall into my frame. I’m kino testing early with her hair and hands. Within half an hour I know its on to kiss but I wait till I’ve led her to a darker more seductive bar. I know its in the bag, just a case of how hard I push this meeting.

Conversation comes easy, the kind of things I’ve written about many times here. I mix up comfort with attraction, playfully push her away, frame her as crazy and a sex maniac. Then halfway through the second pint I pull her in to kiss. She tells me she’s going back to Colombia 5am the next morning. I’m faced with the dilemma of every player when the girl is good enough to bang but not really a serious dating contender. She’s a cute little six. Girly, feminine, pretty face but just not enough to bring out my A game.

I decide to push. I need more rapid escalation practicce. I need to bed down the willingness to push for the lay on first date. I’ve had plenty of practice doing the three-date girlfriend route. Time to switch up. So I put more beer in her, put her legs over mine and scratch her temple. The usual. I guess I might as well lay out the specifics for my dear readers.

• King’s throne posture, with the girl pulled into me
• With my arm around her, pull her head onto my shoulder and scratch her temple
• Alternate proper makeouts with soft kisses on the forehead
• Occasionally grab her hair at the back of the neck and hold her tight for a strong kiss
• Peek down the front of her shirt once or twice

I’ve never been a big fan of physical escalation but these days I use it when I’m gunning it full steam ahead to close that night. I stop short of direct sexualisation – no fondling of her breasts or touching between the legs, no overt “I’m going to fuck you” talk. She’s got too many good-girl barriers to pull that stuff out on the first date. I’d rather keep it covert so she just ends up at my place. Halfway through a pint at the third bar I decide its time for the leap of faith. It’s 10pm and she’s thinking of her flight.

There’s always a moment where you step off the cliff. This was it.

Me: Come on, next place. [Puts on coat and waits for her to do the same]

Her: Where are we going?

Me: Next place. Then I shall return you home in an hour.

Her: I need to be up at 5am for my flight

Me: I know, just one more drink. Hurry up [we walk outside, I flag a taxi, open the door and bundle her in]

Her: Where are we going?

Me: Disneyland

In between kissing me and feeling my leg she tells me I’m a bad man and I’m kidnapping her. I agree on both counts. Then its back to my room, shoes off, leave her alone a few minutes to get wine glasses, and time to escalate. It takes two hours of token resistance at each step until I’m fucking her.

Colombian close

Really, sometimes its like these girls are working to exactly the same blueprint. This lay was almost identical to my last SDL. Every step of the way, the timing, her moods, the words. I wonder if it’ll ever get boring….. After the usual bedroom naughtiness I see her onto the nightbus. A new flag, a new notch. I don’t feel the urge to run around my room cheering. Just another workman-like set where the pieces fell into place. The biggest learning point was that every single phase required me to consciously push forwards. At no moment did the lay “just happen”. There was no organic momentum. It was like pushing a boulder up a hill.

Already I can hear a collective sharp intake of breath throughout the manosphere. Thirty one! I guess this post will be equal parts lay report and mea culpa.

As my long-suffering readership is aware I have been easing my way back into the life of London daygame. Cold, wet, miserable but I feel the nagging pull to get some girls on the go and add a few notches. It’s gone well. The streets are not exactly brimming with flange but if you stay out long enough and look hard enough there’s usually enough girls to make it worth the effort. Land Of The Tens it isn’t. More like Village Of The Sevens. Round about my third day out I spot the usual target walking past the National Portrait Gallery. My assumption stack bombs horribly but that’s the point of the stack… you just transition off her answers no matter how wrong you were.

Me: Hi. I want to tell you something. I just noticed you walking up there and thought you look cute. Very Polish.

Her: I’m Swiss.

Me: Perhaps, but you look Polish. I think its the light skin, wide eyes, and neat clothes. You look like a Polish librarian. A cute one.

Her: Yes. But I’m Swiss.

Me: Then that means…. you like….. mountains…. chocolate…. and collecting Nazi gold.

Her: Haha (etc)…..

Did I ever tell you the reason to assumption stack? In the beginning you both have nothing to talk about so you have to create something out of nothing. The whole point is to get into a conversation – find a subject to talk about. Naturally you’ll talk about her because that’s what you’re interested in. So you make an assumption (I recommend her nationality) and then tell her three reasons why based on three things you can see. Make the last one a light tease to show a little backbone, a little push to perk up her interest.

I’ve never been, but I imagine it’s…

If your assumption gets any traction at all, no matter if you were right or wrong, stick with it. Use that as the topic. Many guys get too excited about their creativity and keep making new assumptions like they’re Derren Brown. No no no. You aren’t trying to impress her, you are trying to get into a conversation with her. Less is more. Once you’ve got her real nationality its easy to then list three things you “heard” about her country… make them borderline racist stereotypes.

• Romanian: In my mind its full of towering mountains, vampires and gypsies
• Russian: I think of Russia being all snow, vodka and KGB
• Brazilian: I imagine Brazil as one long beach where everyone drinks Caprianhas and plays football.

Just stick with the first stereotypes that come into your head. So long as you deliver it with a playful smirk and drag it out slowly then she’ll laugh. If you’re stuck, go to the Emergency Krauser Stack:

My mum told me to be careful of girls from [country]. She said three things. They are all beautiful…. good cooks…. and sex maniacs.

So back to the story. She’s very shy and demure which I like. After ten minutes or so the hook feels good but she seems to lack any real flirting ability. The whole thing feels a bit flat. Nonetheless I bounce her across the road to a pub where we chat for an hour or so. She’s new in town, just here for a couple of weeks to find a university. The spark isn’t there. I just can’t read her interest levels. I seriously think she’s too oblivious to realise what’s going on and I’m on only my second instant date of the year and very rusty. I take a number thinking I may have dropped the ball. Sometimes you just never know. Still waters run deep. This girl is very shy and thoughtful, kinda mousy. She’s into reading, ballet, and gives me classic introvert answers to my probing. She must’ve hooked strong as I discover during the texting. I’ll give an entire transcript so you can see how I’m able to turn it around and get the frame right. I see lots of bad text game in blog comments.

In front of Top Shop, 7pm

Me: So this is my cute new Swiss friend… it was a pleasure [Remember this is a "nice girl" from an idate that had little spark. It's important to be the same guy in texts as you were in person. I start soft with the aim of gradually ramping it up]

Her: It was a pleasure for me too, thank you. How are you, cheeky Englishman? [Good sign]

Me: Good morning! I’m having coffee while I look at all the snow in my garden. How are you? [A ping text. Give a little window into your life]

Her: Hello! That sounds very relaxed.. I am in the Shakespeare Globe and recovering my slight cold… are you interested in visiting the theatre for a play? [An invitation. I don't want to go to the theatre, that's all wrong for a date. Wrong activity and in her frame. I don't like theatre. I shall have to refuse.]

Me: I’m more of a movie person. Take care of yourself with that cold. I want you looking your prettiest when we meet! [Making it clear that it'll be a date, not friends.]

Me: Hey crazy. I made a snowman today. [Ping text I sent to four girls the next day]

Her: We will see, how I will fulfill your desire.. I think being healthy is sufficient for our appointment. Are you in the city next week? [Keen]

Me: Young lady, I’m sure we shall have the pleasure of each other’s company this week. What is your eta for a full recovery… Tuesday? [She's letting me take the frame now]

Her: Good evening, how do you do? London is really exciting. There is sooo much to discover, incredible.. should we meet each other this week once? It would be a pleasure. [Keen]

Me: Hey I’m quite busy this week, but Thursday evening is good. 8pm?

Me: I just bought a black biker jacket. I’m now officially a bad boy! [No reply to my invite so I leave it two days and ping with this]

Her: Hi Nick, you scared me a 2nd time! bad boy, good girl. Did you receive my message?

Me: Hey. I never got a message. What was it?

Her: Really? I asked if you have a time to meet each other once… do you?

Me: I replied. I can meet you Friday [Logistics]

Her: What about Saturday? Would it be also possible?

Me: Hmmm.. Will you wear your prettiest dress and brightest smile? [Restate the frame that its a date and I expect her to play into it]

Her: Almost surely I’ve a new haircut! [Frame accepted]

Me: I look forward to messing it up with my hands Saturday, 7pm, Oxford Circus

Her: I warn you. Cool, Sat 7 at tube station

I then completely forget about the date. I gatecrash one of Tom and Jon’s bootcamps and chatting to them on the walk back to the Daygame HQ when I realise I’m supposed to meet this bird in half an hour. Oops. So I throw out a ping to check its on. I’m not much fussed about it having already got laid two days earlier with the Colombian.

Me: Hey, you good?

Her: Yes, c u at 7

Me: Cool. And no mischief, girl!

Imagine this as a 7, partially obscured with my hairy arse

Once I meet her it goes more or less the same as my last two girls. A drink in a normal pub, walk her to a darker bar. This time she’s hungry so we stop off at a Chinese fusion place. She’s difficult with kino so except for the usual hair-touching I focus on the verbals. Generalised sex talk, laying the man vibe on her etc. Then in the second pub I pull her in to kiss. Finally she loosens up. Her eyes spazz, she becomes touchy-feelly, her knees touch mine constantly… I start to think maybe I can take her home. I remember writing these texts to Bhodi while I was on the date, because he often gets stuck in date escalation so I wanted him to get a window into how I think during a date:

[Just before the date] Me: She’s well into me, very shy, and goes back to Switzerland next week…. Hmmmmm…

Him: Fuck. I wanted to play Black Ops 2

[An hour in] Me: This one s awkward as hell. She wants it and I like her, but she has huge nerd barriers. Haven’t kissed yet.

Him: Just get her back, whatever the excuse, then try it on. Once she’s thru the door the chances of fucking go up astronomically

Me: True. Gonna take the leap regardless

[Two hours in] Me: K close but still tough

Him: Unless its a def second date then just go all out

[Three hours in] Me: I had an Its On Moment and 3 cabs stolen under my nose….

Him: agh

We are walking up Tottenham Court Road while I blab on about finding another pub while keeping my eye out for a cab to hustle her into. None show up. The world is against me. Somehow I persuade her to get the tube back to mine and then a bus up the bank. It’s all about leading and brass-necking my way until she’s in my room with her shoes off.

Then it’s an hour of pretty real LMR and I send Bhodi the +1 text. Really nice tight slim body. She looks good when I’m fucking her. Proof of lay.

It would appear I’ve gotten off to a flyer in 2013.

Here in Brazil, samba is in the air. Street parties, sweltering hot sunshine and then me and my pasty high-status skin colour. Who would suffer the cold of February in London when the promised land of Brazilian ass lies just a plane ticket away? I’ve barely touched down home from a romantic weekend in Barcelona with Belorussian before I’m packing my flip-flops and suncream to go visit my old buddy Suave. Ah, life is good!

You look very…..

I don’t speak a word of Portuguese but the local girls seem to find me shiny and exotic. You have to take your good luck when it comes. First night I make out with a tall leggy office girl who would’ve been good to go if her sister didn’t cockblock. Next night I get a super-cute university student but more sisterly cockblocking knocks that on the head. Third night I’m in Suave’s hometown and headed into the centre for a long street party. I’m excited.

Then he twists his ankle stepping off a kerb, hobbling himself. Our mightly plans to work the party evaporate. He hobbles home to ice it. Fuck. I’m left with a couple of his friends I just met who are making a good effort at looking after me but its a vibe-killer for game. Time to mentally reframe myself. Fate has forced me out of my comfort zone. All growth happens outside the comfort zone. OK, get into the Now, chat to these people, just enjoy the carnival like a normal tourist. So for an hour I’m following these people around and maintaining a faltering conversation. I really appreciate them taking the time with me. One is a woman who looks about mid-thirties but has kept herself in great shape, from mid-range she looks really hot in her short-shorts but just doesn’t maintain my boner up close. She clearly fancies me. And thus begins an internal tug-of-war.

This girl is smiling, dancing, making sure I don’t lose her. She’s a nice person having a good time. But my eyes constantly wander over all the hot young uni students also here, the girls Suave and I would’ve been making a crack at. So much supple young skin on show. I don’t see many eights but there’s a sea of young sixes and sevens. I’m at sixes and sevens now, looking at it but unable to touch lest I seem ungrateful to my hosts by ditching them.

And my vibe is flat. I doubt I’d make a good job of it.

Then two things change in rapid succession. I enter that magical beer-zone of just-pissed-enough that my social inhibitions drop. Then that girl makes a stronger play for me and I’m kissing her within a throng of party-goers. Click! I hit state. She goes off to dance leaving me with some dark skinned girl in a short wedding dress / tiara combo who responds splendidly to my reflexive attraction material. She’s touching, pawing, leading me by the hand through the crowd. Instinctively I know she’s a player, I recognise all the little touches to pull me off balance and into her frame so I backturn, talk to others, push away in correct measure. Mentally I have her recorded as a strong lead for an hour down the line. And then I’m just social-opening everyone, stealing girl’s hats, teasing. I spend ten minutes sitting on a kerb with a super cute little uni student dressed as a butterfly with colourful paint all over her. She’s into me but resists the kiss.

I’m buzzing. The new friends I’m with bump into me every now and then with a look of increduility that this is the same guy who was so serious and taciturn less than two hours earlier. My comfort zone has stretched. And then I see something that occupies the very centre of the most comfortable zone I have.

A solo girl walking alongside the carnival throng, in the opposite direction, going somewhere. Wearing a rucksack.

A fucking rucksack. Every London daygamer’s dream signal.

in low-7 form

I cut through the throng like Rickson through a black belt and appear in front of her. Immediately its just on. Her eyes sparkle, she has a huge smile, and my patter is perfect. I kino fast with side hugs, hair-messing and so on. She’s got little Lara Croft shorts and schoolgirl socks pulled up to her knees. Little hamster-y face. My type all over, probably a low-7. She’s not drunk but on her way to pick up some clothes before starting work at 6:30am (it’s about half four now).

I kiss her less than five minutes in then bounce across the road for a sit down. I run comfort, kiss more, and start thinking about a fast street-to-bed. She’s agreed in principle so we start walking. I try to lie her down in the middle of a park but she’s not having it. So I try to drag her into a supermarket carpark. Not having that either. I can feel its on the edge, her desire to fuck exactly equal to the opposite anxiety over not being that kind of girl. We sit down on a bench and I pull her onto my lap. She’s verbalising how she loves sex but it has to be nice, not squalid. The window is closing, I think it won’t happen.

“We should go to a motel,” she says.

Brilliant. Flag down a taxi, jump in, and within half an hour I’ve got her face pushed into the pillow while I plow her from behind. Some seconds in the shower and then she has to get dressed for work. One hour street to bed, maybe faster. I’d like the Game Adjudication Committee to rule on whether this constitutes an SDL or an SNL. Essentially, this was a fast street-stop that happended at night, when I was drunk. On such details rests the fate of nations.

I’m still in a small town in Brazil, marking time before hitting Rio. Outside the sun is so oppressive that even the locals are indoors, collapsed on sofas with the fans humming. My buddy Suave suggests we hit a couple of bars towards midnight just as an excuse to get outside. So we roll up. On the way in some girl eyes me up. Standing at the bar another girl eyes me up as she walks past holding her boyfriend’s hand. “Brazil must be the only country in the world where I’ve gotten approach invitations” I tell Suave. Really, I just never get them. Every piece of attraction I get must be earned through game.

but bigger tits

Standing outside an hour later some curvy black chick ambles past and gives me a long solid look. Really solid. I ask Suave if she’s a whore, it seems too strong to be legit. She doesn’t have the tart look and he says no she’s just a normal bird. Ten metres away I can see her still looking at me intensely, like I do when the new Bioshock is released. Hmmmm. Couldn’t rate her higher than a six but she’s got big tits and a Brazilian ass. Also, I don’t fuck enough black girls. I wave her over and she comes obediently.

It’s immediately apparent she doesn’t speak a word of English. She blabs on in some monologue the jist of which is she’s not a whore, she won’t have sex with me, but she’s just had an argument with her husband and stormed out the house and wants to talk to people. What’s that rule in Game?

When a woman tells you unbidden that she won’t have sex with you, it means she’s thinking of having sex with you.

I look at Suave. He shrugs. We know this is there for the taking.

A surreal conversation ensues in which I speak English against her Portuguese and neither of us has any idea what’s going on except the pieces Suave translates. She suggests we go for a drive somewhere. While waiting for Suave to bring his car up next to hers I kiss close. About ten minutes in. Then we follow him home to his buddy’s house I’m staying at. He leaves on the pretext of picking up a girlfriend and then me and the girl just sit in the front seats of her car listening to samba on the radio and sharing a can of Brahma.

and a car

There’s really very little to write about this. I needed no Game beyond recognising she’s up for it and then escalating correctly. I’m a talker but this didn’t even need words, relying upon me saying any old shit in a low seductive tone while eye fucking her. Soon we are on the back seats and she gives perfunctory LMR before I’ve got her riding me. It’s very very good sex. Squalid and dirty, me slamming her hard while I push her face into the seat, little moans of “ai ai” coming out her mouth like a metronome. I’m fucking some girl who picked me up on Valentine’s Day after an argument with her husband.

What did he do wrong? The chocolate wasn’t expensive enough? The reservation at the restaurant too close to the kitchen? Poor guy.

The sheer squalid lunacy of the situation appeals to me. Not one to miss a moment I make sure some of my cum misses her tits and face and hits the windows. Clean that off in the morning, hon. And don’t forget to pick up the condom off the floor before you give the car keys back to hubby.

This is what its like for good-looking guys. A girl goes to a bar DTF and then comes onto a guy she likes the look of. So you isolate, escalate and fuck. There’s no game at all. I will now no longer listen to good looking guys on anything except calibration and escalation. They don’t know what its like to actually win a girl over.

This was child’s play. Its a shame that when I return to Europe, I’ll return to reality.

* No idea of her age, or name, or anything else. Could be anywhere between 25-35. She wasn’t very happy when I pulled up my trousers, said thanks for the ride home, then disappeared inside to sleep.

I’ll admit I’ve been having a tough time of it in Brazil. English men my age grew up with images of beautiful women on carnival floats, amazing asses hanging out of thongs on the beach, and the magic of the Socrates-Falco-Zico class of ’82. Brazil is an iconic country for us, one long beach where everyone plays volleyball and sips caipirinhas.

Scored more world cup goals than Plato and Aristotle combined

So I’ve been thoroughly disappointed by the women. Something went wrong between my idealised teenage vision and the actual boots-on-the-floor reality of fat grotty women. Perhaps my tastes have changed cos the hostel chodes here swear there’s lots of hotties. Just this afternoon I bumped into a US pickup coach (I spotted him taking a number of some bird in Starbucks so I said hello afterwards) and he was telling me all the hot girls are on Ipanema beach 9. Ummmmm….. not while I was there. I didn’t see anything worth talking to in two full afternoons of looking. They all had huge asses (in the wrong sense) and big flabby guts.

I’ve been looking, really I have. I spent two hours walking up Ipanema high street today and only opened six girls. That’s without weaseling a single set. Only one of them gave me the DNA-tug. Most other days I’ve seen even less.

About as representative as Austin Powers is of London

So I’m pissing and moaning, blaming the world for my ills. My state is flat. Despite all this I get a stroke of luck. Often you just don’t know which girls will turn out well. As of this afternoon I’d only gotten three good leads in Rio.

Girl 1 – While up at Botafogo shopping mall (don’t bother) I do two sets. One is a super hot dancer who from her facebook appears to be quite famous. We spent twenty minutes chatting, her touching my arm alot and good eye contact but then she doesn’t reply to my texts. Second girl is a young student who is clad in lycra and about to start her daily run. A good set and I meet her the next night for a date where I kiss close. If I’d had better logistics I’d have pulled the trigger but I didn’t (long boring story).

Girl 2 – I’m sitting at a fruit juice stand mid-afternoon with Suave when an 18 year old buxom chick strolls past and gives me a long look. She’s a solid eight. I give chase and do a strong eye-fucking open. She speaks zero English. So I used non-verbals and the Google Translate app on my phone. It’s tortuous but her interest is so strong it works. After taking her number and facebook, I kiss close her on the street. Lots of people are watching. As I walk back to Suave some street performer who has been doing tricks with a mini-football, a middle-aged crusty black dude, comes over and shakes my hand, babbling congratulations in a toothless Portuguese.

Girl 3 – On Saturday night in Lapa I’m pretty drunk. Suave points out a curvy black girl he thinks I’ll like so I give chase. Its an easy stop and she has faltering English. I’m full of ballsy insolence and soon mini-bounce her to the kerb. Ten minutes chat and I take a number and bounce again to a nearby bar then soon kiss close. The party is winding down by 3am, an hour or so later, so I suggest a motel. She says no. I lead her to a cab and try to bundle her in. She runs away.

So which girls seems most solid?

• Girl 1 invites me to a Sunday night full moon party on Ipanema rocks. I show up and she’s lost in the crowd and makes no effort to find me, apologising three hours later by text to say she was meditating and didn’t want to check her phone. Stupid cunt.
• Girl 2 chats to me plenty on Facebook over the following day (using Google Translate) and enthusiastically agrees to a date. Then she doesn’t show. No texts to cancel. Stupid cunt.
• Girl 3 swaps occasional texts over the following few days and seems unenthusiastic. And then tonight she agrees to come out. She tries to cancel claiming no money but I tell her she must have enough for the bus and I’ll get the drinks. She texts back “OK, what is your address?” That’s the extraction handled, then.

As soon as I see her I know its on, token resistance aside. She’s dolled up nice and has tight figure-hugging clothes on. My big issue is logistics – I’m staying in a busy hostel sharing a room for eight. I decide to brass-neck it. I walk her into the lounge area where a chode-party is already in full swing (it’s past 9pm) and I’m scanning for the reception and door guys to see if they disappprove. They don’t seem to notice. Halfway into the first drink I walk her directly upstairs on the thin pretext of checking out my Facebook photos. Two lads are lying on their bunks but know not to interrupt. I’ve got my big towel hanging like a curtain over the bunk so its pretty much private. Everything following is standard escalation until half an hour later I’m fucking her.

Younger, high-6 version, sans manjaw

For lulz I tell her not to make a sound. We can hear people coming in and out of the room. She’s loving the danger of it, possible to get caught at any moment. Good sex. She tells me I’m her first gringo and it was “different” to Brazilians.

So that’s three locals in a bit under three weeks here. Pretty good score considering the scraps I’m working with. I put her as a high six. No shame but I doubt I’ll call her up for seconds.

Learning points

• Even when you are struggling to find targets and leads, things turn up
• Some thought, and balls, can solve shitty logistics
• When you know a girl has come to fuck don’t waste time running a long-winded date model
• Even though I pulled the trigger too fast on the idate, it didn’t wreck the set

Have you heard the term “gutter game”?

Well if you haven’t allow me to educate you. While I was mid-way through my daygame apprenticeship my blog had started to pick up steam (I was still putting up alot of infields then, before it became mainstream) and I was attracting attention from other London daygamers. This is a small world, after all. So one day I get an email from “Antony”, a locally based daygamer who’s at my level and going the same route as me. After the obligatory I-like-your-blog stuff he attaches a private youtube link to two of his infields. I’m expecting him to be some useless duffer but no – he’s really good. And….. different. Him and his buddy Tom Torero want to meet up with me.

Bear in mind this is pre-daygame.com Tom Torero. All I knew was his lay reports on the LSS forum and the occasional long-distance street sighting.

So we meet, have a drink, and do some sets. It’s great. I’ve met a pair of guys around my level doing the same thing I do. Even now there’s precious few guys in London who can competently daygame and are fun to hang out with. We spend the next six months meeting up every now and then, doing sets, knocking our heads together to figure out theoretical points. The glory days of London street game, when my RSG gang is also active.

Why the long preamble you no doubt wonder. Antony has kinda dropped out of the community but Tom is a big name now, deservedly so (and yes, that’s me referenced on pages 368 and 372 of his book). Tom was really hitting it hard back in 2011 racking up the sets and lays. He’d really figured out how to do Same Day Lays and I wanted to know his secret. This was back when I’d only had a handful whereas he was well into double figures on them. Surprisingly he said it wasn’t so hard, it was all about the timing and then spotting the signals. He’d coined the term Gutter Game.

Open the one on the left

Gutter Game: Late evening street game, technically similar to normal daygame but with a heavy emphasis on target selection, logistic probing, momentum and ……. balls of steel.

He can explain it better than me but here’s my take on it:

• As the sun begins to set the vibe on the street changes. All the worker drones have gone home, the shops are closing, the street begins to empty out. The sexual vibe creeps upwards. You can feel it in your bones.
• You must make a firm resolution that you are looking for sex. Not numbers, not facebooks. You want to make sweet love. There’s alot of sex out on the street and you want yours.
• This is not the time for two-sets, tall leggy eights, fashionable girls. You are looking for vulnerable isolated girls, especially tourists. Forget quality, types, observational openers etc. Look for girls who seemed bored, lost and horny. Most will be sixes and sevens. Fine. You aren’t marrying them.
• When you open you are looking for the eye sparkle, that crackle of electricity that lets you know its on. This whole shebang has to be done and dusted in a few hours so if the girl’s vibe is flat and can’t be spiked you’ll need to take a number and move on to the next one.

So you go in and open, eye-fuck, throw out some light sexualisation and see what happens. If you’re getting long deep eye contact and feeling the its-on-DTF vibe then you start the ball rolling and then its all about momentum and accelerated comfort. Get her in a pub (not a cafe), ask some simple logistical questions (where does she live, what is she doing tonight, when does she leave town, when does she need to be home) and put your balls on the line.

Generally speaking I’d say you want to spend about ten minutes on the street and one hour in the pub running comfort and flirting before you pull the trigger on the kiss close. Once you have the kiss physical comfort becomes extremely important. Stroke her head, kiss her forehead, play with interlocking fingers. Tell her its so fast, its crazy. Tell her the best thing about London is it’s so anonymous that you can do crazy things and nobody is watching, that its best to take a chance in life and follow your emotion rather than being all serious and regret letting life slip by. Blah blah blah. And then when you’ve kissed a bit (but not over-escalated) suggest “the next place” and hop in a cab. This is real balls-on-the-line stuff. It never feels certain. You’re always stepping off the cliff.

But fuck me, you’d be so surprised how many of them step into that taxi, put their head on your shoulder, and allow themselves to be whisked away to the sex location. Even now when it happens I surprise myself. As Bhodi says, once you get them through your door the odds of sex rise exponentially. So anyway if you get a gutter game SDL and want to send me royalities – don’t. Buy Tom’s book. It’s his concept. So on with this particular lay report……

Add a red hat and drop a point

I’m having a fucking terrible day. There’s something weird about 2013 where most of my sets are weak and yet I’m getting laid at an astonishingly high open-to-lay ratio. Perhaps I’m coming in so strong that the girls are either in or out within the first ten seconds. Fuck knows. So today I do ten sets. Five straight-out harsh blowouts. Ouch. I get an idate with a wop and another long set with another wop. Both have long-term wop boyfriends. Now that London has been invaded by cute slim Italians and Spanish (always with boyfriends) I’m thinking of developing a long-term boyfriend-destroyer wop game. We shall see. But whatever, it’s pushing 9pm, I’ve been out four hours and although my mood is good my vibe is off.

It’s gutter game time. There’s sex out there, I want mine.

Walking past John Lewis on Oxford Street I see a slim Japanese girl dressed like an indie kid with a big woolly red hat and long soft hair. I open and bang! its on. Not please-fuck-me-on but I can see the subtle signals, the easy-going vibe, the questions to fill my silences. This girl is on a ten-day trip to London visiting a friend, leaving tomorrow. That friend is working so my Jap has to occupy the days with wandering. Sweet. I promise an offering to the Gods Of Pickup in thanks.

I probably owe them something

Then I follow the model outlined above. Ten minutes on the street. Light kino-testing on her painted fingernails. Bounce to the Argyll Arms to get alcohol in her and start laying on the man-vibe. She obediently follows me to Bradleys Spanish Bar (seductive close location) for more drinks and I kiss close. Easy. This girl’s hindbrain has already decided to fuck but its not until I bundle her into the taxi that the forebrain gets the memo. It really is easy. Not the slightest quiver or LMR. She doesn’t give me any green lights or help with the escalation – all of it has to be the time-old combination of balls + calibration. I chat to the taxi driver (his wife went to school close to my parent’s house) and get an easy lay. No LMR at all. Not in the slightest. I think that’s a Japanese thing, they have a guilt-free sex culture even though the girls have low-Ns.

I fuck the shit out of her, her eyes opening so wide she looks almost European. During my mid-fuck debrief she tells me I’m the fifth guy to fuck her and first foreigner (and first non-BF). It’s her first nanpa. She even tells me “I don’t know how this happened”. She’s never had it rough so I oblige her with a rousting. Her first facefucking, first vibrator, first anal, first cum-swallowing.

I’ll admit it. I like being the bad guy.

Several times during the evening I keep thinking that almost all of my recent lays follow the same pattern, especially the SDLs……….

Shit day —> Lots of blowouts —> One set of glory —> Get laid

Never give up, guys. When you’re gutter gaming, there’s always a horny tourist around the next corner.

I’m aware that six lay reports in a row could make my blog a little one-dimensional. Let’s have some theory….. The community grinds ever onwards and as new guys come through the ranks they tend to set up little coaching businesses, usually a bit earlier than they should. I’ve been guilty of that myself. I keep my eyes peeled, curious to see what these new guys bring to the table. Here’s an infield I saw for the first time last night. I’ll put in a commentary.

Overall I give it 5/10. Servicable. Approach 100 girls like this and you’ll get ten decent numbers, if you’re as good-looking as this guy. It does enough to convert girls who quite like the look of you, are available, and open to the idea of a street stop. It’s how to get a Yes Girl without fucking up too badly. However if the girl is unconvinced or a bit difficult (a Maybe Girl) then the inauthenticity, lack of higher level social creativity, and general lack of electricity will turn her off.

0:05 – Graphics tip you off that these are intermediate guys who are getting some success but still captured by cheesy community values.

0:11 – Look at her clothes and mood relative to everyone else in the shop. She’s showing lots of skin and immediately sparkles. This girl is likely DTF so you should sexualise early and see how she takes it.

0:12 – It already sounds fake and boilerplate but to give him credit he’s gotten his intent out early. The opener is a chance to inject some humour, creativity and make it specific to the girl. So only rely on canned openers if your mind has gone blank.

0:18 – The interview begins, putting the onus on her to do the work before she’s really figured out who she’s dealing with. I prefer to spend more time assumption-stacking so I can take it out of the boring daily chit-chat and put some electricity into it. Vibing is meant to be fun. The fact she accepts the invasive early questioning is another clue she’s DTF.

0:21 – Item one on the cheesy PUA shopping list of phrases. It’s too much of a leap from the flow of conversation. However despite this being a mediocre set so far she’s still laughing and responding well. Mostly that’s expressing pleasant surprise that a man is chatting her up rather than attraction to this particular man but its still a positive emotion so he can work with it.

0:25 – Cheesy PUA shopping list spike #2

0:31 – Cheesy PUA shopping list spike #3. We’ve now confirmed that this set is a fake showy chit-chat with no authenticity or sexual tension. It’s too light, it’s not grounded. He’s going to have to dial that down or end up with a flaky number (he does, a bit).

0:37 – I like his solid unreactive body language and although he’s dressed a bit cheesy-PUA at least he has a look that will polarise girls. I suspect this set is surviving entirely on the body language and balls of opening direct rather than the lame shit he’s spouting.

0:52 – I dislike how clumsy the “tell me about yourself” is, but I also like that its finally introduced authenticity and not trying to be too smooth

0:56 – Qualification, which she rebuts with a question about him. This set isn’t a car crash because he’s got enough fundamentals and she’s the right girl in the right mood. It’s still going well.

0:59 – Rapport laughter from him. There really needs to be some drive-by sexualisation now. The girl seems generally DTF and she’s testing to see if he’ll be the guy who offers her the dick she hasn’t had for a while.

1:24 – This is a great time to get her investing and opening up but he keeps interrupting. Control the urge to talk. My rule is never interrupt her when she’s speaking unless you are deliberately breaking rapport. Whoever is talking is qualifying.

1:34 – DLV about not commiting to surfing and then awkward laugh. When you talk about yourself you should be giving little glimpses of your life as the Most Interesting Man In The World. Don’t overegg it, just glimpses. Control the urge to politely self-deprecate.

1:43 – DLVing again by positioning her above. Now there’s a chance that he’s got a cheeky grin and eyes that say “I’m only saying this because I’m so confident I can patronise you”, so this could be either way. The video isn’t sharp enough to know which.

1:46 – She’s snatching the frame to direct the conversation

2:03 – After running with it, he snatches the frame back with an investment question. Good move. His body language is very relaxed now as he’s realised she’s there for the taking and her momentum is completely killed.

2:12 – Too agreeable. This is where the London School would be giving non-commital nods and say “ok”

2:23 – “That’s awesome”. He’s found a DTF girl who just likes the look of him and now he’s in danger of wrecking it by seeming too impressed with her and too happy just-to-be-there.

2:42 – She’s biting on the qualification

2:54 – She’s rapport-seeking, which is a great sign. Rather than accept and mirror it I’d suggest vacuuming, being an uncommited listener, and saving the approval for the date. This girl is actively trying to get herself laid.

2:58 – He’s totally unreactive to all the people milling around so the love bubble never pops. That’s good work.

3:09 – He’s got attraction, rapport and investment so this is a good time to go for the number. I think this girl has idate and SDL written all over her so I’d have stretched it out another couple of minutes then bounced. But maybe he’s the one with a time constraint, in which case I’d set up a Same Day De-Lay by meeting her later that afternoon.

3:36 – This is an IOI and also a warning that his material is too fake. Throughout this set we are seeing a mixture of good work and bad missteps. It goes to show that if a girl is right for you, you don’t need to be perfect. Anytime he drops the ball, she picks it up and hands it back to him.

3:40 – Cheesy PUA shopping list spike #3

3:52 – Destroying the earlier authenticity and she responds with nervous laughter. You don’t need that overgaming attraction shit when you’ve already moved into authentic communication. It telegraphs a lack of belief that you already have the girl.

So to recap

Strengths

• Solid polarising look that distinguishes him from all the schlubs and shows he’s taken care of his image (and is therefore invested in himself).
• Direct open and doesn’t undermine himself by neutralising that intent and becoming the gay-best-friend later in set.
• Relaxed non-reactive body language and eye contact. Imposes frame that it’s completely normal to chat to her in a supermarket.
• Moves the interaction along through vibing, investment and rapport before picking the right time to take the number.

Weaknesses

• Very fake. Almost everything he says is a mini-routine from an internet forum. There’s no flow.
• Much too agreeable. Where’s the sexual tension?
• It’s a missed opportunity. This girl was DTF and could’ve been bounced. By failing to see this there’s a good chance she’s disappointed in him and will flake in favour of a man who will give her the dick.
• Mentally subtract his look and body language and instead focus on what he said. Was there a single ounce of creativity or interesting conversation there? No. He hasn’t displayed high level social skills or given a window into his world either overtly nor covertly.

Videos like this are good for the intermediate guys to compare themselves against. You can see which bits are getting you your results but also see what needs to be eliminated or built upon to get to the next level. This guy is doing quite well and seems to have the right attitude. We’ll likely hear more from him in a year or so.

An integral part of maintaing a Euro-harem is facebook and skype. Such a wonderful technology for building rapport, attraction and keeping yourself entertained over long distances. As a favour to my dear readers I’ll go into detail on how to set up a good sex chat. Remember that birds don’t think like us and get turned on by different things. Keep this in mind at all times. How do you want her to feel, how do you want to move things along…. Girls get turned on by the psychological interplay and environmental scenario of sex. You want to be getting that right before moving on to the in-out part of the sex. Here’s a chat from last night where I had Serb A masturbating. Read and learn.

1. I want to pull her in with something that has immediate buy-in while also covertly emphasising that I’m making this up as I go along and thus its showing my spontaneous creativity. She has no doubts this is a personalised experience so that ups the attraction and rapport.

2. Details, details, details! You are feeding her imagination, in this case the archetypal road trip. I had in mind the road scene from Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. Picture it in your own mind and then paint a picture with a few brush strokes. Make those details masculine and cool.

3. Don’t forget her other senses. Men are visual but women want to know the touch and smell.

4. It’s playful. Don’t take yourself seriously. Give her little images that bind her to you specifically, imagining how you are not just a random male.

5. Drop in your own habits that she knows you have. Girls know I care about good whiskey and Cuban cigars. It all builds that little world to suck her in and feel right there, next to you.

6. Tell her what she’s doing. What she’s doing in the story sets the frame for how she will act, which part of her character will come out. How would this story go differently if I’d said “You have your head buried in a book, something long-winded from Tolstoy”? Not necessarily worse but all the details need to be consistent with where you plan on taking this. I want it to be a wild adventurous story. If I’d wanted to paint her as timid and nerdy I’d have used the Tolstoy line.

7. Bring her in as a co-creator on the non-essential elements, make her work a little and feel some influence.

8. Future projections always have an element of farce from her. She’s a silly little girl who would soon send the world spiralling into chaos without your firm hand to keep things in order. Put her in the clumsy box.

9. This is telling her which character to play and how to feel. The energy is high, flirty, adventurous. Much different to her pulling out a flask of cold tea (which would subconsciously lead to a relaxed, not hot, vibe).

10. This time I’m playing up her agency, letting her be predator. It suits her temperament and switches things up from the usual where I dominate everything. This story is about her being wild and horny, chasing me, impressing herself upon me because she wants the sex. A nice frame.

11. More colour to feed her imagination, more fleshing out of the uninhibited bad girl character I’m setting her up as. While typing I considered having her flash her tits at the drivers but it felt wrong so I toned it down.

12. Tell her how to feel. You tell her to be hot, excited, sexy, hungry, desperate or whatever. Not bored. Never bored. You are building the emotional linkage now for how you want her to generally feel around you in future.

13. I’m reluctant. I have a mission that she’s distracting me from. Ease her into that qualifying frame where you have the value and she’s trying to persuade you to have sex. Notice I’ve built up to it, after scene setting. It feels natural within the story.

14. Playfully reassert the frame that she’s a force of chaos.

15. She needs a reward for this sexually exciting behviour. She wants you to be turned on at the thought of fucking her. And girls get a spike from hearing about hard dicks.

16. Don’t lose track of the little environmental details that make the story feel real. I get more inconsequential buy-in from her.

17. More of her as sexual predator, escalating.

18. She’s winning me over now. I’m finally throwing away my cigar and turning my mind to fucking her. She gets the thrill of validation.

19. Continuing on the theme of her being the wild uninhibited ball of steamy sexual energy. I want her to know she can be like this with me in real life. It’s all a set-up for future actual sex. Giving her permission to bring out this side of her.

20. Reward and qualification. Tell the girl what you like about her, what turns you on. You’ll get more of it in future.

21. Detail, detail, detail. Put yourself into the story and communicate with your senses. Pick out a smell, a touch, a quirky detail and make it come alive. Girls put themselves deep into the story so feed that.

22. At several points in the story I hammer home her obsession with my dick. Girls are obsessed with dick, that’s just life. Play on it, position her as obsessed with your dick. Frame her as worshipping the cock, her biggest source of happiness.

23. You’ll get this alot. Accept it, enjoy it. Girls want to work for you.

24. Ah, the danger element of public sex. I like to throw in unforeseen plot elements. A few weeks earlier we were having sex in an underground hidden WWII-era Luftwaffe airfield. Mid-way through she clumsily kicked over a helmet and the resulting clang woke up the Nazi zombies. Plot twists!

25. A roughness-dominance spike that flows seamlessly from the narrative.

26. Still letting her be the predator.

27. We are a long way into this story and I still haven’t fucked her. As the storyteller, I’m making her wait, building up her anticipation, letting her get wetter and wetter. This is frame control – the sex proceeds on my timetable. She’s naked before me.

28. Hammering the frame of wildness. Telling her how desperate she is for my dick inside her.

29. I’m taking control. She’s turned me on enough to earn a fuck so now she’s going to get one. She’s no longer the predator, I’m driving this figuratively as well as literally.

30. Decisive manly action. I’m in charge now so the little details reflect that. She’s going into the docile “waiting to be fucked” mode. Which she wants. No girl can remain predator with me.

I’m in a frivilous mood so here’s an idea I’m throwing out only half-seriously, one that came to me while trying to decide which game to play once I’ve finished the new Rage DLC (scorchers). The male domination hierarchy drives not just how women respond to you sexually but also your self-image, other men’s reactions, and the type of entertainment you’ll pursue. Our identities are expressed through our consumption choices, our fashion choices, and how we spend our time. So let’s apply that to video games.

Alpha: Command & Conquer, Rome Total War, Evil Genius

Bang! Smash! Kill!

The alpha male sits atop the male hierarchy giving orders to his lackeys then sitting back to smoke a cigar while he watches the world be remade in his image. He’s intensely competitive and loves to exercise his will upon a hostile world. He seeks decisive victory. Thus what better games than those where he commands armies, ripping thousands of little computer people from their little computer homes and sending them to certain death as they scythe through enemy lands looting and pillaging.

Sigma: Far Cry 3, Hitman Absolution, Dark Souls

Hunt and kill

The sigma walks alone on the fringes of society, heedless of its demands and determined to make his own way. The world is a playground and his mission to perfect his own skills for his own sake, to extract from it the little he needs to get by. He wishes for no affiliations, no crusade to join. So what better games than an open world sandbox with animals to hunt, pirates to assassinate, factions to play off against each other and the whole thing played at your own pace, free to pick and choose your own action? Who is a more symbolic archetype of the sigma mindset than the international assassin?

Beta: Gears of War, Call of Duty (single player), Battlefield

Yes, there’s a woman in there. Sassy.

Beta males are followers. They are looking for a cause higher than their own, to be pointed in a direction then sent off to surmount the obstacles and prove their worth. Thus we have long-winded save-the-world campaigns where you slot into a fire-team and play “follow the NPC”. There’s so much gushing about defending your homeland, team spirit and yes…. duty. I’ve replaced COD multiplayer (a lone-wolf twitch-fest) with Battlefield because the later better expresses the coordinated teamwork and class-based role-following that appeals to the beta drone.

Gamma: Final Fantasy, Mass Effect, Metal Gear Solid

Low testosterone environment

The gamma male is tortured by the cognitive dissonance between his self-perceived superiority (springing from his high intelligence) and his actual lowly SMP rank (springing from his feminisation). This conflict expresses itself in snark, excessive complication, and an appreciation for labyrinthian story-based RPGs that reward obsessive play. If the boring long-winded too-smart-by-half snarky lefty anti-capitalist message of MGS isn’t proof enough, just look at a photo of its creator Hideo Kojima. A high-acheiving gamma if ever there was one. Gammas want to play games that remind them how clever they are. They want to be the reluctant hero who saves the world he holds in contempt. They want the final cut-scene that vindicates them for being right all along. And they really like feminised bland characters.

Omega: World of Warcraft, Skyrim

No toilets to get your head flushed down

The thing omegas have far more than everyone else is time. With no social life to distract them the omega is free to over-invest in endless grinding RPGs, building a virtual self that can rank higher than his real-world incarnation. Online, no-one knows you’re a dog. The omega can access social communication through MMORPGs but with buffers that avoid the real world rejection he is used to. In Skyrim he can lose himself completely in a fully-featured virtual world where he is always the hero. This is the true escapism.

An overreach?

BTW, I’d love to know how the Sci-Fi and Fantasy genres are mapped by SMP rank. I don’t read much but I’d guess Asimov is for gammas, Herbert for betas, Star Trek for manginas and Doctor Who for omegas. However, I don’t know the scene well enough to judge.

That’s a figurative use of princess, by the way.

Imagine a leggy former model who has recently ended her relationship with a super-rich bachelor. Over the past five or so years she’s only ever travelled by limousine or private jet. She can’t remember the last time she looked at a price tag or paid cash, prefering to just sign for her luxuries in the high fashion boutiques. On her wrist is a diamond-encrusted Swiss timepiece costing more than many sports cars. More diamonds around her neck. Her dress costs more than the median average salary of her countrymen. But she walked away from it all, feeling trapped (but keeping the wardrobe, of course). Always on the boyfriend’s schedule, her life planned six months in advance. Always careful not to let slip private information about their lives lest a nosey maid or maitre d’ sell it to a scammer. Always a paparazzi trying to get some photos. She tired of the unreality of it all. She’s changed her number to stop her lovesick boyfriend pestering her.

Add five years to the brunette

Her holiday in London is almost over. It’s a breath of fresh air to walk around free and anonymous. She’s had a Starbucks and eavesdropped on the proles lamenting their mundane concerns. Now she’s eating a sandwich in the basement cafe in Top Shop. She checks her watch and decides to browse more high street fashion. As she begins to walk further into the shop, displaying a sultry long-legged strut, a man taps her arm.

“Hi. I have to tell you something. You have a lovely walk. Like an angry cat.”

She blushes, eyes wide open. “Um…. thank you.”

“You look Serbian” he guesses. “It’s the black hair, long legs, and crazy eyes.”

She giggles. “No. I’m Romanian”

He seems crestfallen. “Oh no. My mum warned me about Romanian girls. She said three things. They are all sexy”. He checks her out from head to toe. “Good at cooking. And sex maniacs.”

Yes chaps, it really was that romantic.

Her eyes spazz out immediately, the crackle of DNA-matching fizzing across the air. I know this girl really fancies me. After finding out her crappy logistics I take a number and suggest meeting later the same evening. Surprisingly she tells me the hotel she’s staying at (five star, Kensington) and suggest I call her in a few hours. I do. Perhaps over-emboldened from my recent run of SDLs I think its on for another but….. no. We have a few drinks in her hotel lobby and just kiss. The emotional connection is good. I have no trouble showing the right mix of confidence and vulnerability. Bhodi has his little theory about these types of girls – greyhounds, I think the term is. Girls who have:

• Beautiful proportions mixing long legs, good height but also real curves
• Intelligence and a well-rounded education
• Social and physical grace
• Always an 8 or better

Many vampire jokes were told

He opines that such high quality girls are extremely difficult for the average player to catch but counter-intuitively easier for men like me. As Sherlock Holmes said “Mediocrity cannot recognise anything higher than itself. Talent recognises genius.” These girls just smell the quality on me and want it. My Euro-harem is stocked with them and they all look from the same mould. It goes well and I think I might get the lay but she controls herself and eventually runs off to her room. Bugger. As I take the night bus home alone we fall into a text exchange:

Me: You had difficulty controlling yourself there

Her: Yes. I succeeds

Me: Does that make you a lucky or unlucky girl? Anyway, it was a lovely evening. Sweet dreams.

Her: I’ve never slept with a stranger. I don’t know how I would feel next day. You were very disappointed I think.

Me: You didn’t disappoint me. It’s just bad luck we don’t have time

Her: Yes. But you can visit Romania perhaps

Me: That’s too much too soon, girl. I know some good English pubs.

Her: Nice We can talk tomorrow

Me: Between now and then, get some sleep. I expect interesting conversation.

Her: Between now and then I shall masturbate

Me: Send me a text when you’re done

Her: (half an hour later) I’m done!

Me: I approve. Good girl

Next evening she comes around to my part of town on a promise of coffee and Italian food. She texts to ask if its a high class place that requires heels. I say wear heels because you’re a feminine woman who likes to look nice. As soon as she shows up in the pub all the heads are turning. She has that imperious air of a woman used to commanding attention and being waited on. One hell of a strut. As she sits down she tells me to order her a glass of wine. “The bar is over there” I reply, not moving. After a pout she orders, fending off two different chodes who can’t help but open her.

I walk her to Pizza Express. Classy. We split the bill. She tells me that’s never happened before. I drink her wine too.

Back at my house we are soon in bed but I’m on the receiving end of hardcore LMR. It turns out she’s on the rag too so I settle for a blowjob in the morning before packing her off in a taxi and a few hours later she’s jetting back to Transylvania. I’m mildly put out that I didn’t close her. She’s a tough nut, having had only two partners in the past ten years, but I did have her in bed overnight so…. meh! Chalk it to the game.

We Skype for a couple of days. It’s snowing outside my window and the weather forecast is for zero degrees the coming week. Spain and Greece at +20C…. my mind turns. I fancy some hot weather and duty-free whiskey. A bit more on Skype and we agree to meet for a couple of nights in the Med. I book a double room. There’s a different wrinkle added to game when you actually travel to close a girl… the frame is very different. There’s alot riding on it. Different pitfalls to avoid.

Her hometown, yesterday

Down in the Med we check in and then explore the town. Some local cuisine and I hit the beer a bit harder than planned. She’s keeping a slow pace. I hit a rich vein of form and I swear this girl has never been gamed before. Every spike hits. Every joke. Every push-pull. She’s eating out of my hand. There’s a multi-millionaire a short private jet ride away pining for her, a guy who showered her with the best life can buy – Ferraris, Canne’s Film Festival VIP rooms, holiday homes in the tropics… and here she is drinking cheap lager in a dive bar with me, cooing and laughing when I call her a gypsy giraffe. Personal charismatic value > Money.

Game works. Never forget that.

Back at the hotel I fuck her senseless. What a cracking figure! Gazelle-like in the smooth long limbs and an expertly installed set of falsies. There’s literally not a single thing I’d change on her body. The sex is rough. I have her telling me she’s my bitch. After, I read her a Little Miss book (you can probably guess which one) which hits beautifully, making her jump me again. While I’m slamming her over the writing desk she gasps “You are hurting my ovaries!”

Lying stretched out in bed with her, both of us glistening with post-fuck sweat:

Me: Put one hand on my cock, and the other on my balls.

Her: Why? Does that turn you on?

Me: No. You’re Romanian and I don’t want to get up to lock my wallet in the safe.

Heh!

Just stop for a moment to think…. how thoroughly I broke her frame. She’s a chaste girl, a monogamist who spent her twenties with only two men. People defer to her constantly. And I douchebag-gamed her into putting out on the third date. Big time. Inevitably there’s blow back.

It begins as I’m trying to sleep. She sobs, tells me it was never in her plan to have sex. She can’t sleep all night. In the morning she gives me shit all the way to lunch. She’s angry, she tells me. I remain unapologetic and unreactive, letting the hamster run itself into exhaustion. It’s a major shit test, trying to reassert her princess frame that I should dance to her tune. I flat out tell her she’s only angry because I fucked her on my timetable not hers. Gradually she softens. Then its business as usual.

The strongest reality always wins.

First off I must tip my hat to Bhodi for serving this girl up to me. It took tight game to get this girl into bed (in under three hours from meeting) but this is a story best viewed as the power of simple wing work.

It all begins on Saturday afternoon in central London as we are hitting some daygame. My first set is excellent, a solid number from a beautiful young Bulgarian, but it tumbles downhill afterwards as a combination of cold miserable weather and huge gaps between finding targets all conspires to kill my state. Two hours in we are at Trafalgar Square when my finely-attuned radar spots a pretty Asian wandering alone. A close look suggests she’s American-Asian (I strongly dislike them) so, seeing as my state is shit anyway, I point her out to Bhodi.

Surprisingly she hooks well for him and is very friendly. I see an idate in the offing and shuffle off. Sure enough he texts me as such. They chat a couple of hours and he escalates her pretty well with dirty talk and kissing then she has to head off to meet friends – its a tour group from the US, headed to Paris the next day. By that time I’m up at Daygame.com HQ doing a podcast with Tom and John.

As we finish around 10pm I see Bhodi has been blowing up my phone with missed calls. Turns out this girl (hereafter Girl A) is drunk in her hotel bar with a crowd of chodes and American girls and bailing on meeting him alone, instead doing the “come join us” bullshit. Treacherous ground. We conspire the best move and I advise thus:

• Plan A – Get her to meet in the nearest pub to her hotel, alone.
• Plan B – Go into the bar, shrug off the crowd and pull her out to a nearby pub

Neither plan works. Instead he calls for our address, informing us he might be bringing a few drunk girls. Tom and John agree to run interference if extra bodies are needed. I get the following texts…. its all going pear-shaped but is certainly salvageable.

Him: en route eta 5-10 min one hot young asian high 8 plus my target

Me: cool

Him: mine is the tall one. the other one is an attention whore

Me: 2 girls or 3?

Him: 2

Meeting them downstairs I’m pleased at how the obstacle looks – a short asian hamster with nice curves and glowing skin. It turns out she’s refused to let Girl A leave the hotel alone, seeing her as the lifeline to escape the chodes and have some fun. Then in the taxi over here she had made herself the centre of attention and cockblocked. Typical American-Asian then….

Very very close to this

I decide I must crush her frame.

Right from the off I’m push-pulling, at times dismissive of her witterings yet genial and showing social interest in her. We sit around a table at a nearby English pub. It’s pretty easy to lead the chat and drop intellectual mastery on her – she appears to know nothing that Europeans would call “history” or “geography”. While I’m reeling off an elaborate Yugoslavia DHV story it becomes obvious she doesn’t know where Bosnia is, that Sarajevo was beseiged, that Tito was dictator, that Franz Ferdinand wasn’t just a band and was shot in Sarajevo. Its so easy to get her dangling on the end of my line, reeling her in. She briefly touches my arm as we talk. I know she fancies me.

Nonetheless nothing about this set was simple. The girls only met each other an hour earlier as the tour group aligned on racial grounds and the asians drifted together. Minor hiccups in the vibe and seating stall our momentum and things go stale. Suddenly we seem to be reaching in, leaning too much into them (figuratively). Something needs to change. This girl is a first-class attention whore.  While my initial blitz had caught her off-balance and pushed her into submissiveness, the slight relenting of pressure gives her space to begin recovering her sense of self-importance. I know we are losing the set. No way will she let her new friend have sex unless she is happy herself. Bhodi had already kiss-closed Girl A on the idate but now she’s maintaining a cold distance and won’t kiss again. This is getting awkward. The following texts get pinged between us under the table as the next ten minutes tick away:

Me: Ok. Mine likes me. Potential. You lead for a bit

Me: Work for isolation

Me: Energy sucks. Bad seating. I suggest a bounce to nearby pub to refresh vibe

Him: agree but dont know any places

Me: My read is they don’t know each other but don’t want to appear slutty for rest of holiday. Need to separate them, even if only within same bar.

Me: We walked past one. If we walk to Marble Arch will find one. Tons of pubs in the area and they are bewildered on location.

We bounce. It’s almost midnight so its no surprise the first bar is shutting up. Second place is open. Upon buying my drink I shuttle my girl to a booth where she’ll be next to me and Girl A next to Bhodi. Its fairly easy to have pair of separate conversations. I have to start escalating.

I brush her hair out of her face, call her a chipmunk, play with her bracelet, ask her if her handbag is full of nuts for winter, touch her thigh….. normal push-pull as I escalate kino. She’s accepting it all. I make a joke about looking down her shirt. Finally I’m confident I have my moment. I inquire whether Bhodi has ice in his vodka – “ice” being code word for him to move his girl into isolation. He takes her to the bar.

This is now the moment of truth. If my girl won’t kiss, she’ll cockblock and its game over for us both. I ask her what she thinks of English men, whether we are gentlemen. Then tell her I’m not one, that I’m a bad man – “Like this, for example” and lift her chin up for a kiss. She meets me enthusiastically. Great. I do The Stone and she comments my dick is a perfect size. Ok, in for a penny in for a pound. I pull the trigger:

Me: I should tell you… I’m having rude thoughts right now.

Her: Tell me about them.

Me: Well, mostly they involve my dick *puts her hand on my dick* inside your pussy *put my hand on her pussy*

Her: *laughs* I can’t believe you said that.

Me: I suppose I could poeticise it. Make it romantic. But essentially it all comes down to my dick, deep and hard inside your pussy.

That’s 80% of my wingwork done. I’m confident I can hold her long enough for Bhodi to extract. Almost telepathically he returns with his girl. Clearly she’s relented on the kissing, her face is quite flushed. “Excuse me, young lady” he address Girl B. “Would you mind terribly if I whisk your friend away for a nightcap before returning her to you in an hour or so?”

Zero cockblocking ensues. Bhodi gets his extraction.

Definitely nice having her underneath me

Just as I think I’m on for mine she pipes up with “I need to get back to my hotel now.” I’ll hear this line at least ten more times in the next half-hour. I suggest a nightcap. An important part of the extraction is to find out what time she needs to be back home then promise you’ll have her there then. More kissing and she agrees to the nightcap. Into a taxi we go. The whole way back she’s piping up with the “I need to go back to my hotel now” to which I agree, kiss her, verbally bamboozle, pull her close and then she’ll pipe up again. Rinse, repeat. We half the taxi fare and she comes into my house without a fuss.

It’s still on the knife-edge. She’s one miscalibration away from just leaving. She knows she can. She’s accepting my lead but she’s not at all cowed. I walk her up to my room and leave her alone a few minutes. Then shoes off, music on. She accepts some rum. Everything now is soft and comfortable:

• When handing her rum I say “don’t worry if you can’t finish it”
• When she protests its too strong neat, I water it down for her. I’m not trying to get her drunker, the rum is just for her own self-rationalisation
• She sits on the edge of the bed so I lie down at the other end, giving her lots of space.
• As she gradually edges towards me over the course of five minutes conversation I stay still, lying back non-threateningly.
• When she tells me she isn’t staying long, I offer to call her a cab “soon”
• When she’s comfortable enough to kiss, I pull her onto me so she’s in the more dominant position.

Its time for the final push, inching forward step-by-step. I flip her over so I’m on top, then I’m running my hands all over her body, then feeling her tits, then undoing the bra…. its methodical work and I’m hearing the “I can’t have sex with you” line alot. At the point I’m trying to pull her strides down she comes close to a real “no”. A bit of fingering, her hand on my dick, and then just generally putting my dick near her mouth…. she starts sucking me off, I frig her close to orgasm (careful not to put her over the edge and make her too satisfied) and then its done. Strides off, cock in, notch gained.

It’s an awesome fuck. I brutalise her. She’s screaming, gasping, begging to be fucked harder. Loving it. I give her the memory of a lifetime. My phone buzzes.

Him: Status?

Me: +1. In my room

Him: ha ha u owe me one. Just fucked mine in the hotel toilets! HOLY SHIT! [It's his first SDL]

Me: Great work. Putting mine in a cab now.

Him: Wait up with a celebratory whiskey.

This set was always one misstep from disaster. I thoroughly neutralised the cockblock and even got my end away from it, but it took some sterling work. There were long periods when it never seemed likely to happen for either of us.

The taste of victory

Learning points

• Girls will spitefully cockblock out of reflex and yet, if handled correctly, will be sweet and up for it.
• You need communication and teamwork with your wing. With me having been through these situations more than Bhodi I could correctly call the key shots.
• Some extractions and closes are more on-edge than others. Be careful.

I tend not to do any talks or interviews anymore but after putting a few beers down my neck, Tom Torero persuaded me to chip in on the latest of Daygame.com’s weekly-ish podcasts. We spent about an hour discussing the topic of Long Game and in particular the lifestyle of travelling internationally to clack girls. Listen to it here

I’ve been corralled onto a short FSU tour by the indefatigable Tom Torero. We’d been chatting over beer in London around the time of our Long Game podcast and I’d lamented how my usual gang have all been indisposed with full-time jobs that inhibit their travel. Well, seems the Welshman was planning his own trip and thus I came on board.

The street stop, actual

My first stop is Vilnius where I catch up with a couple of girls I’ve been seeing on and off for over a year. The streets are reasonably busy and my street stops hit quite well. Outside McDonalds I spot a greyhound and dive in. She hooks strong, giggling and giving me the “just thrilled to be here” giddy look. As I’m taking the number Tom is observing and later tells me she had a dreamy expression like her Prince Charming had arrived. Text game is easy as I play chode game:

Me: Hi. It was a pleasure to meet you Are you always so friendly to strangers?

Her: It is a national trait

Me: I’ve been exploring. Parks and wide public squares. Very Russian!

Me: Good morning It’s another great day! How are you?

Her: Morning! I’m fine. I’m going to build exhibition. Have a good day

Me: Thanks

Me: I walked so much my head is sunburned, like a tomato :/

Her: I also walked a lot today. But my head looks good

Me: I like this city. It’s very calm and clean. I’ve already found some good bars

Her: Yes, it’s calm. Your phone will go home with you [a callback reference to when I told her I was robbed in Brazil] Which bars do you like?

Me: There’s a secret bar I want to show you. It has a James Bond theme

Her: I am happy to meet with Mr Bond Maybe this evening?

Me: Hmmm… Will you dress like a Bond girl?

Her: You mean, evening dress, long hair and sexy lingerie? I have only the third

Me: Put some clothes over your lingerie, it’s a nice place! 6pm, outside the town hall

Her: Ok. I’ll be there.

With the benefit of hindsight this set was more on than I realised. That reference to lingerie was her sexualising and her volunteering meeting soon shows keeness. But I knew I had a couple of days left before the next stop so I didn’t push it as hard as I could’ve. Watch for these little tells in a girls texts or conversation, little slips that let you know she’s up for it without much more preamble. Game can be boiled down to one long compliance test where the beginning is “hello” and the end is sex. Game is only required when she’s not complying. For as long as she’s letting you lead her towards the bedroom you needn’t put on your PUA wizard hat and overgame the set.

Tip: Late 20s / early 30s FSU women are the best prospects for fast holiday lays. Being FSU they are still slim, pretty and well-dressed but they are also more sexually open, more decisive, and more accepting that they can’t boyfriend you by holding out. They can already feel themselves losing the competition against their younger rivals so they’ll latch onto your value much much quicker.

She turns up to the date in a union jack t-shirt that can barely contain her breasts. We sit across a table then I run the Date Model. Everything hits. She’s cooperating to move it along fast so that within twenty minutes I just lean across the table and kiss her. Then I tell her to come around my side of the booth and we make out. It’s on. I could’ve pulled the trigger here but didn’t. After an hour mixing the usual rapport and spikes I let her go. We agree to meet the next night at 6pm

Age it to 29

At 6:05 she texts “five minutes!” At 6:15 I leave and go to a nearby bar. At 6:30 she calls asking where I am. I tell her. I’m pissed off. It’s not an act. I really don’t want to fuck her now. She senses this on arrival and for ten minutes I’m frosty and she’s pawing at me desperately, sensing she might not get her lay. Finally I tell her its ok and lets just get a bottle of wine. She agrees.

So we get some wine, walk the five minutes to my apartment. I give her the decency of pouring the wine and putting on some music before I make my move. She’s so hot for it that she’s grabbing at my belt within a minute. No LMR to deal with. I just carry her to the bedroom and have my wicked way. A very easy lay. In her 21yr old prime this girl would’ve turned heads on the street, a low nine. The intervening years dropped a point and robbed her skin of the springy quality that turns men into slavvering animals. But a good lay.

Learning points

• Try to read a girl’s “go” signals. If she’s thrilled on the stop, cooperates strongly on setting up a date, and then rolls out the red carpet on the date then yes, she wants to fuck soon.
• Read the girl’s clothes on the date. Has she obviously taken alot of care in getting ready? Is she showing cleavage and leg? Is she wear an easy-lifted skirt? Does she mention nice underwear?
• Don’t overcomplicate an easy set.

….After a year has passed since his wife’s death, the King takes a new wife, who is beautiful but also unutterably wicked and vain. The new Queen possesses a Magic Mirror which she asks every morning: “Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?”. The mirror always replies: “My Queen, you are the fairest in the land.” The Queen is always pleased with that, because the magic mirror never lies. But, when Snow White reaches the age of seven, she becomes as beautiful as the day and even more beautiful than the Queen and when the Queen asks her mirror, it responds: “My Queen, you are the fairest here so true. But Snow White is a thousand times more beautiful than you.”

This gives the queen a great shock, and she becomes yellow and green with envy, and from that hour her heart turns against Snow White, and with every following day she hates Snow White more and more. Envy and pride, like ill weeds, grow in her heart taller every day, until she has no peace day or night. The Queen orders a huntsman to take Snow White into the deepest woods to be killed *…

I used to be quite into Brazilian Ju Jitsu. Our local club had an horrific churn rate as new guys would come in to class and not come back. It was easy to know who would stick around – the unassuming guys who had come to learn. It was equally easy to predict the first day dropouts. They’d be wearing some tough guy clothes, perhaps insisting on wearing a coloured belt they’d picked up in a sports centre grading mill. They’d certainly have a stiff pride about them. Then one of our scrawny blue belts would wipe the mat with them. The ego death was simply too much to take. Their buffer had been overrun and their self-image could not take the real-world evidence that they simply weren’t as tough as they thought they were. So it is with Game.

Newbies are often told that the girl isn’t rejecting you, she’s rejecting your approach. This is only half-true. When you street stop a girl she is holding a mirror up to you. Only it’s not your flattering magic mirror telling you you’re the coolest in the land. She’s doesn’t care for your buffers or your pretty lies. She feels an instinctive emotional reaction to what you present to her and she makes the flirt/escape decision in a heartbeat. The mirror speaks the truth.

It takes only one session of daygame, one run of five consecutive blowouts to realise you ain’t all that. You are not as high value as you led yourself to believe. The weak among you (most men) will scurry back behing the buffers. The stupid will plod on without processing the evidence becoming increasingly angry approach machines. Only the smart and dedicated will process the feedback honestly and realise “I have a lot of work to do on my value.”

When a girl rejects you she is giving an assessment on your entire sexual market value.

Now there are fine gradations of this and while its not necessarily true on any single set it is true in aggregate over the session. Even if she has a boyfriend you’ll see flickers of attraction if she fancies you. Even if she’s in a mad hurry you’ll see her light up a little. It’s only when your SMV is way below hers will she eye-roll, sigh and give you the “how dare you hit on me” response. If that happens, sure get angry that she’s a rude bitch if you want, but process the feedback of why it happened. You ain’t all that.

When a high value woman refuses to have sex with a low value PUA, that is the sexual market functioning correctly.

So granted that you are getting blown out alot and an uncomfortable rate of bad responses, what are you to do? Step one is accept the reality. If you’ve been hit by a bus its not bravery to throw yourself back in front of the next one. Self-diagnose your approach to see what was off about it. Was it shaky vocal delivery? weak eye contact? lack of intent? angry vibe? A good daygame approach requires hundreds of microbehaviours to align into a single well-delivered whole and that’s not easy at all.

If your technique was acceptable its time to look deeper. Did you fail to correctly calibrate to the context such as by opening her as she’s coming away from a cash machine, or chatting animatedly on a phone? Did you adopt a try-hard alpha posture as a buffer to rejection that is transparent to everyone but yourself? Get someone better than you to offer straight feedback.

The problem might be deeper still.You may be hitting on girls above your league. Oh sure, that’s PUA heresy that its not all in your head. Its manosphere heresy that a woman might be too good for you. But if you’re a runtish chode hitting on 19 year old models you should be expecting nothing but harsh blowouts. You’ve got nothing to offer her. Perhaps the answer is to stop approaching hotties and do some serious work on your value. Get to the gym, get a make-over, travel, educate yourself. Make yourself the kind of man a hot young girl would expect to be having sex with. I’m thirty-eight years old and usually hit on girls around their early twenties. This is a huge ask and I have to be bang on my vibe to pull it off.

All men build buffers around themselves to flatter their self esteem and avoid rejection. Every single one of us, myself included. Root them out. Figure out how you are fooling yourself. The easiest single step is to go out into the street and open ten girls. Welcome the responses they are giving you. The harsh blowouts and the flat zero-attraction chats are offering you far more constructive feedback than any online forum can. Compile a wealth of this information, figure out where you stand, and then make a promise to yourself that from this ground zero you will build yourself up.

Accept the reflection that stares back at you.

* Sending for the woodsman = getting angry at the players who are outperforming you.  ”But I’ve been doing game just as long as you, I’ve done just as many sets as you… why aren’t I banging hot girls…. waaaaahhhhhhh”. I’ll bet those other players process reality far better than you do.

As I lie here in my hammock listening to the clatter of squirrels running up and down my garden trees, soft jazz on my speakers, I consider getting up to replace the now-melting ice in my tumbler of Johnnie Walker Double Black. It’s roasting hot, the London weather having finally turned good. Not that I was here for the bad weather. All of February was spent on the beaches of Rio, sandwiched on either side by two trips to Barcelona to bang my Belarussian and Romanian girls respectively. I guess there’s alot of guys sitting in cubicles this afternoon. The lucky ones have window seats so they can at least look at the weather I’m enjoying.

But where was I? Ah…. something about enjoying the decline….

Not strictly accurate

A couple of weeks ago during my tour of several FSU countries I had one of those Fridays that stick in the memory. I woke up in my downtown apartment and shuffled off to a cafe for an 11am breakfast with Anastasia, a 21yr old Russian microbiologist. We had a walk around the nearby park, kissed a little then I let her go. 3pm was an afternoon coffee first date with Deria, a 23yr old fashion designer. We chatted, held hands a bit and then made out at the steps to her subway home. Just before that date I’d seen Dasha walking into a grocery store and introduced myself. She’s a slim 23yr old too so we swapped numbers and I had a 4:30pm drink with her. Another makeout which she said was strange “because I have a boyfriend and we just met”. Round about 6pm the sky takes on an early dusk tinge and my tummy is rumbling. So I take Elena out for pizza, my new 22yr old ballerina girlfriend. I round off the day with a two-hour 9pm cocktail bar drink with Inna, a tall 19 year old dancer who has her hand on my dick before rushing off to join her friends for some nightclubbing. I go home, close my eyes and wonder….. am I really living this?

I dated five “eights” in one day, all the right side of 25, all exquisitely feminine, all thrilled to be in my company and all good hard make outs. All on a multi-country Euro tour that I booked on a whim, without saving up and without asking permission from anybody.

I don’t do this everyday, but it does happen.

Minimalists design their own covers

Aaron Clarey‘s new book Enjoy The Decline finishes with an impassioned plea to live life to its utmost because we only get one time on this earth and living well is the best revenge on the Leftists who have destroyed our civilisation. Judging by the hater comments I delete, I guess that’s what I’m doing. I just finished his book in one sitting so I guess a review is in order.

Much has been made recently on the bitter taste of the red pill, that destabilising sense of loss as your pretty lies perish and you realise that as a right-of-the-bell-curve male you are the power plant that the rest of society lives off and yet…. you don’t get to enjoy any of its fruits. How do you hold yourself together as reality crumbles and the white picket fence respectability you were taught to crave has been exposed as an unattainable high-risk at best, or a decorated gulag cabin at worst? How are we to navigate the minefield? I’ve written two of three parts on my path. Foundations. Accumulation… and I needn’t write the last part because this book does a more comprehensive version that I’m about 90% in agreement with. Let’s recap Ayn Rand’s Aaron’s basic thesis.

America (and construed widely, the West as a whole) has unequivocably and permanently chosen socialism. We are therefore fucked, the path to ruin and decivilisation locked in. As the producers of the world are we to throw ourselves under the bus for the good of the moochers and looters, or should we shrug as did Atlas? Aaron suggests we Go Galt and spends his book laying out the case.

That’s you, that is

First up is an economic summary which will be familiar to Mish‘s readers. It’s an Austrian-lite summary for non-specialists going through the basic problems of debt-to-GDP, unfunded liabilities, overtaxation and public sector crowding out. The economic conclusion is that employment opportunities in the traditional careers are dead, the boomer generation will milk its descendents dry and just don’t bother. The American Dream is dead. It’s all sound stuff. He seems to err towards inflationism whereas I’m of the opinion we are in a permanent deflationary spiral but that’s a minor objection.

The solution is to embrace minimalism and self-interest. Declare to yourself that you live for yourself first. To throw off the parasites you will starve the beast by deliberately ratcheting down your income to the minimum threshold necessary for the quality of life you require. Efficient cost control keeps this number low in a Fight Club-esque “the stuff you own ends up owning you” mentality. The cost control side is low-tech and really just a psychological downshift. On the income side he recommends learning a trade (i.e. plumber, electrician) or STEM career or to hold off on careerism until you’re 35 and just treat employment as a source of cash and no more.

Downshifting frees up your time and this is the major win of enjoying the decline. You no longer covet the McMansion, the new lease car, the caribbean family holiday. You no longer feel compelled to marry and have kids. From this expansion in your freedom comes a great peace with the world as all the stress of modern life evaporates. A single man needs very little to get by.

More chapters follow on psychological adaptation (mostly about accepting your mortality and therefore commiting to live your life now instead of constantly deferring your pleasure), the importance of high quality people in your life, and to avoid the temptation to build up a pot of gold that a future wife / socialist government can steal from you. This is all good advice. Strangely he doesn’t mention Game despite his blog showing a clear awareness of it and Roosh’s book being mentioned at the end. Perhaps he doesn’t feel qualified to advise, or perhaps its to avoid tailoring the book to just single men – though it is this category who stands to win most from Going Galt because they are the host upon whom everyone else is a parasite.

Most of the book is accepted knowledge within the manosphere. I’ve written myself on the psychological declaration we must make when unplugging. I’ve written about the importance of building a group of high value friends. I write about building the international lifestyle and turning yourself into the Most Interesting Man In The World. There’s nothing new in Aaron’s book. Nonetheless I still read it cover-to-cover in one sitting because it gives you two things that amply justify the cover price:

1. Another voice of a man who has been-there-done-it reassuring you that this is a great path to go down with rich rewards for your quality of life. We all get 4am moments, those dark nights of the soul, when we wonder Cypher-like “wouldn’t it be better to plug back in”. This book helps banish them for those of you still wavering. Aaron is one of the older guys who isn’t bitter from divorce, isn’t an ex-pat loser, and isn’t a wannabe-baller. Just a regular guy who made smart choices and can pass on the thought process.
2. It’s a concise single volume with relatively mild tone that can be passed on to a young lad you think ready for unplugging.

My second day of daygame is going pretty well and on one narrow strip outside a shopping mall I take three solid numbers in about fifteen minutes. The pick of the bunch is an extremely leggy brunette with shoulder-length mousey hair and elegant retro fashion. I do a strong stop teasing her for being flamingo-like in her walk and for the whole five minutes she’s cooing and giggling, utterly thrilled to be there. We swap numbers and facebook then she tells me she’ll be on a business trip to St Petersburg for a few days but yes we should have a drink when she returns.

An easy go-to for long-legged girls

That Saturday night we meet up in a whiskey and cigar bar. It’s busy so I take a bar stool which turns out to be a great move. I can face the barman when doing mild takeaways, giving her my shoulder and lazily running my eyes over the whiskey bottles racked against the wall mirror. The position also lets me test kino by touching my leg against hers, putting my foot on her stool footrest and easy upper body touching. So now as a general rule I think I’ll do barstools or standing up in bars on first dates. Everything is easier without the barrier of a table.

For half an hour I run my usual patter dropping in DHVs on travel, lifestyle and funny lame-to-fame stories (mine include two members of the Rolling Stones apologising to me, almost having a fight with the reigning sumo champ in Tokyo, and using the same urinal as the football captain of England – all true). Her eyes are spazzing, she’s fiddling with her drink, hair twirling. It’s all there. This girl really fancies me. Unfortunately she has a cold. A high value man would not risk catching a cold just to kiss a girl. So my escalation flips over into eye contact and verbals only. She’s on my arm as we walk down the street and everyone is staring. She looks just like Julia Roberts. Properly like her. Same endless legs, long arms, huge smile, eyes. She’s tarted up in a green sleeveless cocktail dress and nice jewellry. Stunning, an archetypal greyhound. The only problem is her age – at 31 her skin is losing its vibrance.

But not a whore

At the second bar we are sitting across a table and now enter some strange territory. I can’t physically escalate but I want to make my move so…. what to do? On this trip I’ve really upped the radical honesty and explicitly refering to the subtext of the situation. So for example I’ve frequently said to girls on the street things like “Do you have a boyfriend?” and “I’m talking to you as a man, because as a woman you are pretty” etc. I suggest the questions game to this girl as follows:

Ok, let’s play a question game. We’ll take turns asking questions. You can ask me anything at all. I won’t get angry and I’ll tell you the absolute truth. Make them difficult questions. Think what you want to know about me.

We ping pong for over half an hour. I’m asking how old she was when she first kissed a boy, the most unusual place she had sex, what she looks for in a man, what she likes about me. We get into deeper and deeper rapport and she’s getting turned on. I can see it in her eyes. I strongly recommend this game but you must really be truthful. For example she asked what I want from her so I replied “I’m not looking for anything serious. I find you sexually attractive and you have exactly the mix of height, class and introversion that I most like in a woman.”

Then a switch is flipped. It’s like she goes into a trance and barely speaks. We are just sitting across the table staring into each other’s eyes. There’s so many things going on at different levels and at different times. Sometimes its a shit test to see if I’ll drop eye contact or break the sexual tension with an offhand comment. Other times it’s hypnotic scanning to read my identity. Still other times she’s thinking hard about what she wants. For my part I keep shifting the thoughts I project. Sometimes I eyefuck her and visualise how she’ll look naked on my bed while I fuck her. Other times I soften up and invite her to read me. I also challenge a little by projecting “I can play this game better than you, woman. Every moment you stare you are falling into my trap.”

She loves it. Electricity crackles. Finally she breaks and talks.

I ask her what she reads in me and her response is surprisingly accurate. She says I don’t seem happy so I flesh it out a bit and say I’m happy because I’m living exactly the life I choose but I’m not satisfied because some of the things I want are impossible without trade-offs I refuse to make. She asks if I trust women and I say yes and no. On the one hand they can’t be trusted like men to be true to their word or to follow a code of morality but on the other hand I can trust them like I trust a dog, or a chair – I can trust them to follow their nature so by understanding that and holding them to those expectations I am never disappointed. Radical honesty. It melts her.

She asks what I read in her. I say something to the effect of:

Me: You are fascinated by me. You find me attractive and very interesting, like no man you’ve met before. You’ve realised that we are not compatible in the long term but you are curious how it would be to have sex with me. So right now you are trying to decide whether to come home with me and have sex, or to go home and sleep.

Her: Yes, that’s about right.

After we get the bill she goes home saying she just doesn’t feel well. We agree to meet again when she’s recovered. A bit of texting back and forth establishes that she spent all of Sunday in bed and by Monday feels good. So we meet again in a cafe bar near my apartment. She’s dolled up great again and her heels put her several inches above me. More heads turn. I look at her clothes and manner and it feels on.

This sort of figure

I get a lucky break because the cafe is closing at 10pm (it’s 9:20 when we meet) due to a private event. So we have a drink, I keep fairly solid without too much pull and then towards ten I suggest a wine at my place.

Her: You know I still haven’t decided.

Me: That’s no problem. We’ll just have a drink and listen to music.

So I lead her back and I know its a done deal. Up the stairs, shoes off, music on. Wine poured. Within five minutes she’s lying on my sofa with her tongue down my throat. The escalation is fast. Five minutes later she’s naked on my bed. Zero LMR. It’s an earth-shattering fuck. She’s screaming, climbing the walls, eyes popping out, scratching. I do her in the shower, on the floor and do a one-man DP that has her gasping in shocked ecstasy “what are you doing to me?”. During a break she’s just gazing at me, chin rested on her hands, massive smile that says “I can’t believe how lucky I am. Is it even possible for sex to be this good.” I tell her “Now you know why I’m so confident.”

I send her home with dried cum on her face. A very satisfying notch.

Every day I delete at least one comment of some moron who hasn’t bothered to read more than a handful of my posts and thus expects me to waste my own time answering a question already answered elsewhere on the blog. However I do appreciate that not everyone wants to read all 500+ posts on here. So I’ve decided to add a permanent FAQ. From now on I will not answer any comment that is already dealt with there. I’ll probably update the page over time. This is draft one.

1. Comments

First and foremost understand that I do not give a shit about you. I have a one-way connection to the pickup community in which I write whatever I want and then you choose to read it or not. Don’t for a moment think you have a stake in this blog or any kind of claim on my time. I do not have a Book Of Rules where you can point to section 1.2 article A to demand some kind of preferred behaviour from me. So if you act like a dickhead in the comments I’ll ridicule you, debate you or delete you entirely depending on what I think is appropriate at that point in time. Regular readers with normal social skills will do fine.

I’ve been writing for years and chances are I’ve already answered your question somewhere in this blog. Therefore I will not waste my time on you just because you can’t be bothered to do your own research.

I have no tolerance for comments from angry morons whose sole motivation for commenting is to tear down what I’ve painstakingly built. If my life shakes your reality, tough shit. Stop reading. If you find a less-than-satisfactory response to your comment ask yourself this – “what was I trying to achieve with my comment?” If the answer is showing off, nitpicking, gamma-raged reality-denying or any other such inauthentic emotion then you can be sure it was blindingly obvious to everyone reading it.

2. Who are my readers?

Despite the above I do care for some of my readers. Probably half of my motivation for writing is to provide a detailed path for well-intentioned disciplined guys who wish to follow in my footsteps. I’ve met with and had correspondance with such men and its rewarding for me to know they’ve sidestepped landmines I had to trod on myself. I find Game a topic of fascinating complexity and like any hobbyist talking shop I like to have an audience / peers of similar interests and sophistication.

My ideal reader, the guy I subconsciously imagine I’m writing for, is late 30s, average but unremarkable looks, >120 IQ and spent most of his life as a dependable blue pill worker. He’s got the discipline to succeed in whatever he turns his mind to, the strength of character to persist against hardship, and the willingness to confront his own demons. He’s probably also done at least 500 daygame sets and is getting laid occasionally with normal girls who aren’t too bad to look at. I guess you could say I’m talking to intermediate players mostly.

3. Are you racist / sexist / homophobic?

Yes. That said, I reject the labels because rather than describing any kind of character trait or reality the “-ist” labels are really just smear weapons to shut down debate and force compliance of the subject in his own destruction. The worst discrimination in the UK is visited on white straight males. That’s not to say we have the worst quality of life, just that when we succeed its due to the value we are able to give to the world rather than being propped up by value stolen by others.

There is unquestionably a Feminine Imperative attack on men. In the past 40 years there’s been an unquestionable attack on white English with mass immigration and aggressively-foisted multiculturalism. Crime stats by race really do prove that ethnics are far far more criminal than whites in the UK. Blacks really do own shootings, stabbings, muggings, gang-rape and interracial street violence. Arabs and pakistanis own terrorism, ethnic cleansing of city districts and 10-on-1 street attacks. Fag culture really is a degenerate attack on all things civilised (see Jack Donovan’s “flamboyant dishonour” concept).

Any individual can transcend his race, just like any white person can shame his own. I judge people on their individual merits and find that the 50% of any given race who are right-side-of-the-bell-curve are generally law-abiding net-positive wealth creators. Hence I have (a few) black, arab and pakistani friends. I see the world as it really is and generally speaking what we call “civilisation” is really the product of a tiny group of historically great white European men. Nowhere else has ever produced it (I don’t count the slave-based societies as civilised, nor those that got rich paying white men to extract their oil and then exchanging it for white-produced goods and managerial expertise). Even within the UK, probably less than 10% of men have the Civilisation Gene.

4. Where’s the proof?

You missed it. For a couple of years I consistently posted infield videos of street pickups, dates, and lays. I also posted real photos of the girls and lengthy text and chat transcripts. Many of those have since been taken down. I don’t have to prove anything to you. If you don’t believe me, don’t read me.

5. I need help with x, y, z

Tough shit. Pay a coach for his time or do your own research. I’ve written enough on this blog that my advice on your problem is somewhere on the site. Do some work. If you expect to come onto my blog and demand a freebie then here’s my advice: that attitude is precisely your problem and why you don’t get laid. There’s nothing free in this world. Successful men must carve their own openings from a hostile unyielding world. If you think someone is just gonna drop their tools and come running to your aid then you have entitlement issues. You’re probably gamma. As noted above, you have no claim on me. It’s really messed-up to think that just because I offer lots of value for free that I’m therefore beholden to you to offer more. No. Fuck off.

6. The HB8.72 that I dated the other night said…

Three points:

1. If you are using the HBX.XX scale at all then you are rubbish at game and likely have the wrong mindset about how to acquire tight game
2. It’s really obvious that you are qualifying to me and my readers, trying to elbow your way into being taken seriously. Stop doing it, it makes you look weak
3. I’ve already mentally subtracted three points from the score you gave her. Almost everyone on the internet is flat-out lying about the quality of women they consort with.

7. Do looks matter?

Yes, massively so. The dirty secret in the community is that almost all of the name players who get laid can fit into one of these categories:

1. Tall good-looking guy who really ought to be getting laid alot even without game.
2. Scenester who has an in with rock / indie / hipster girls. These are highly promiscuous social circles where no game is required.
3. Hard worker with no standards. This guy is relentlessly churning out sets and will fuck anything, though you’ll only ever see photos of the very best girls he meets.
4. A liar.

There’s very very few players out there who are getting laid primarily on the basis of their game. That’s why my golden rule is you must be fucking girls who are physically better-looking than you are. Also the greater the age difference, the more impressive. It’s incredibly easy for a 23yr old guy to bang a 21yr old women. I did it plenty with zero game when I was that age. Every five years you add to the age difference makes closing an order of magnitude harder. Banging a girl 15 years your junior is very difficult.

Game works. The above 1-3 guys will fail if their anti-game is so bad they constantly fuck up (which is most men) but don’t assume just because a guy gets laid that he therefore has game. Lots of people get laid due to other reasons. Game is a value-add that gets you more women and better women. It gets you women without paying the “price” of exclusivity, waiting, losing the frame, spending money, losing your soul.

8. It’s not fair! waaaaaaah!

Psychologists call this the “just world hypothesis” – a believe that the world has some kind of karmic-balancing force that rewards the just and punish the evil. Combine that with your own self-delusion and ego-protecting buffers and you’ll naturally consider yourself as on the side of the just and owed a reward of pussy. The harder you work the greater the reward you demand and thus the angrier you get when it’s not forthcoming. This is a vicious cycle of creepiness and avoidance. To break it just learn to accept reality as it really is and process the feedback it gives you.

When you see a winner, try to learn from him. I’ll guarantee he didn’t just spring into the world as a winner. What you see and envy now is the end product of years and years of hard graft, risks taken, and opportunities seized. That winner was a loser many times over but everytime he fell off the horse he got right back on.

9. How do record your sets?

Almost every video I’ve ever posted was recorded with a cheap 8GB watch camera or a small black gum cam. See this post for details. With these being cheap Chinese imports I never figured out how to set the text file to use the correct date. Thus most of the videos have a time stamp of 01/01/2008 or suchlike. The correct dates are within a month of the post itself.

10. What are your stats?

I have no idea. Click the lay reports tab to see most of my lays. There’s about a dozen I never wrote up and another half dozen I wrote up and have since taken down. I’m not a high-notch guy. Don’t get too tied up in the numbers or they’ll hold you back. Much of your improvement with women will come from letting it all go and learning not to be so hard on yourself, to just be in the moment and focus on the ebbs and flows of the interaction. Keeping spreadsheets and tracking stats gives you extra things to worry about and the illusion of control. Ditch them.

11. You are my hero

There’s a fine line between respecting a mentor and worshipping a guru. By all means learn from my successes and failures but don’t kid yourself that I have all the answers. Use my blog for what you can learn from it but always keep an emotional distance and remain your own man. Some of the cornerstone characteristics of a sexually attractive male are his boundaries, sense of self, entitlement, stubborness, and refusal to live his life in service of others. Hero worship retards your development of those characteristics. Don’t be retarded.

12. Why do you do daygame?

According to the Myers-Briggs personality test I am an INTJ. I strongly recommend all my readers to self-administer this test. My personality type is drawn towards lone wandering, deep authentic communication and independence. I can’t stand nightclubs, cultivating social circles, status-whoring and other extroversions. Daygame perfectly synchs to my character. I like to walk around alone with my thoughts, stopping occassionally to talk to a girl. I don’t like to make small talk with people I’ll never see again. I don’t like the demands on my attention of being in groups. Per Myers-Briggs only 4% of men have my character and thus my style is a niche taste. It might not be right for you.

On a more practical note, the best Game plays to your strengths. I am highly educated, intelligent, erudite, creative and above all a good talker. I am not tall, good looking, social or high energy. Thus I can best deliver my value on the streets one-to-one and sober. I struggle to get my value out in a nightclub.

13. What you said doesn’t agree with Mystery / Style / Tyler / Roissy

Mystery and Style are bullshitters who wrote some good material and played a pivotal role in shaping the community but they were not good with women. Tyler is a fantastic analyst but strikes me as weird and not good with women. Roissy is a great writer but his brand of nihilistic game is better suited for where he shaped it – East coast metropolitan America.

Pick any pickup theorist and you’ll find any number of legitimate reasons why they’d disagree with me. They have a different personality, are working a different social mileau, target different girls, want different things, have different strengths and weaknesses etc. In other cases they don’t really disagree its just comparing apples to oranges. Read what you can and over time you’ll formulate your own game.

14. What is your opinion on x, y, z

It’s on my blog. Use the search function. If I haven’t written about it already then likely I don’t care / don’t have an opinion, or I consider it outside the thematic scope of my blog. Just to contextualise my general worldview this might help. I believe the following:

• Government is intrinsically evil and inefficient. It’s only legitimate functions are to protect the borders, maintain domestic order, and provide a means of settling contracts. The classic Nightwatchman State of philosophical liberalism. Thus I like Ayn Rand, John Locke and the unamended US Constitution.
• Free market capitalism is the greatest form of human organisation yet invented, providing the optimal balance between wealth creation and freedom of individual self-determination. History has shown every single departure from this model (feudalism, socialism, mercantalism, social democracy) significantly worsens the human condition and will lead to enslavement or collapse. Most western societies are closer to socialism than capitalism but its disguised. For example the Bank Of England is a fundamentally socialist institution – it centrally plans the most important price in the economy – the cost of money.
• The world is not fair and nature doesn’t care if you’re happy. You must set your own goals and try to achieve them. What we now call “morality” is basically a conflation of two different things 1) the intersection of mutual self-interest in a I-scratch-your-back-you-scratch-mine and I-won’t-kill-you-if-you-don’t-kill-me 2) a web of lies to encroach your frame and bullshit you into giving up your value to moochers and looters.

I don’t care if you disagree with me. I’ve stated my opinions and its not open to debate. Feel free to disagree, just don’t expect me to care.