Post: #26

11/100 Ursula

I head downtown to stakeout the Haily bench in the slim hope that I can claim My Girl before she leaves town forever.

In my head now I say nothing to her, I just jump up on the railing in front of her and do a vertical pushup like a gymnast. “Betcha can’t do this, Hailey. It’s coz’ of this:” *I imitate her gross smoking habit* “You should really cut that shit out,” I smirk at her as I turn away and go into the library to do my own thing. What a great plan! You got the DHV, the negs, the cocky-funny. Oh, and the push-pull: I’m barely talking to her now; it’s like I don’t even care!

Of course it’s also completely retarded. I can’t do a fucking vertical pushup. I will never be able to do a vertical pushup. Also the library is closed for the day… she has no reason to be there now or ever—Spoiler alert: I will literally never see this bitch again. I also have no reason to be there, and I could not go in after my imaginary smoking snub. BUT even if I could get in, and then exited sometime later, she obviously wouldn’t be there to approach yet again, because she doesn’t fucking live on a bench at the library like a crazy homeless person. I literally saw her sitting there twice in two years. A coincidence.

BUT even if she did literally live on this bench like a deranged wino, and I actually did approach her again, I would stutter and fail. I was able to chat her up so easily the first time, in part, because I had spent the entire day approaching other women, so I was talkative and “in the zone”. But now that Hailey-itis has given me approach block, I will not be similarly prepped. Further she was just another rando girl to me when I approached her last time, and so I was carefree and outcome independent. There was no performance anxiety because the stakes were low. My current emotional investment is this girl would now sabotage my ability to convincingly “push-pull”; not that I have the luxury of playing any sort of long-game with her anyway since she’s leaving in like two days.

*Deep breath in*

“Great rebuttals me!”

Unfortunately, even with these airtight self-rejoinders already logged and noted, I repeat these same fantasies in my head and continue to circle the empty library like a starving vulture.

As the sun begins to set I pace on top of a concrete wall between the sidewalk and the street next to the library, like a bedraggled tomcat, and sing the blues out loud. “The blues” here being the chorus to Funky Town for some reason, belted out slowly, sadly, passionately, repetitively, and of course loudly. Everyone must hear the horrible sound of my broken heart!





Occasionally I stop my song to harass passing women with what might be either some sort of rudimentary daygame or perhaps just bored hostility. A blonde woman on a bicycle rides by: “Where are you going? The sunset is THAT way.” She turns her head back towards me and shouts something with a smile, but I have no idea what.

I repeat the line to another blonde bike lady and she actually stops: “You’re supposed to go towards the sunset—TO ADMIRE IT—you absolute philistine.” There is a big lake a block away, behind the library; it is indeed a great sunset location.

“I stop here take peekshoor” she clarifies to me in a thick foreign accent. A 30-something 6. She sets up a camera at the top of some steps and takes a picture of the state capitol building over on the horizon. I wander away a little and then circle back when she’s done: “What accent is that, btw? German?”

“No. Close. I am from Poland.”

“I am from the United States. Cuspid.” *shakes her hand*

“Ursula.”

*still gripping her hand* “Eastern Europeans have such pretty names.”

(… That’s an ugly name tho!)

“Ursula, this is supposed to be a really pretty sunset. Let’s go back to the lake. We gotta see it!”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Post: #27

I got caught shoplifting for the first time. Uh oh, looks like prison really is closer than un-virginity. (… plz jeebus not like dis!! ) I didn’t get busted, but the staff of a local supermarket chased me out after I overstuffed a pair of cargo pants with a bunch of bullshit supplements. Well, I guess they weren’t trying to “chase me out” so much as they wanted me to stop so that we could all wait for the cops together and I could get arrested. That didn’t seem like a great plan to me, so I walked out and didn’t look back. It was four in the morning and I tried to take side streets home, and I’m grateful no cop cars chanced by, because I stick out like a sore thumb.

I guess I can’t go back to the grocery store I’ve shopped at for nearly a decade, since they know who I am. I need to cut this dumb shit out! But it feels so easy now… my heart rate doesn’t even change. I think I subconsciously vandalized my brain’s delicate risk-taking circuitry so that I could approach co-eds, and now this psychological auto-hacking is creating all kinds of negative externalities on my behavior. I used to have self-control. Soon I expect to be having drunk, unprotected sex with ultra-skanks. Then I’ll get fugly MMA sleeve tattoos and start taking opioids or meth or whatever shit it is impulsive white rejects like me are now “accidentally” offing themselves with, on mass, in the current year.

Post: #28

12/100 Kylie



I drive to campus with my top down, my shirt off, and my 80s horror-synth playlist blasting. At a stoplight a soy-gentleman with a bike helmet and a scraggly beard flashes me a wide, smug Shkreli grin and a slow approving head nod. This instinctively strikes me as some sort of terrible divine omen, so I turn off my stereo and re-apply my clothing.

It is almost certainly the last day My Girl will be in the city, if she isn’t gone already. I perform my sacred Beta Ritual for the last time. Of course, she is not on her bench, so this time I actually enter the library looking for her like a stalker maniac. I check every floor. I check every room. Nowhere. Once again I wander around campus completely defeated. I don’t want these other girls. I want MY girl.

As the sun begins to descend, I move from grief to acceptance and make my one and only approach of the day. It is more or less the same approach I made on Ursula a few days ago. A blonde 6 is walking towards me on the sidewalk and away from the big lake behind the library. I stop in front of her and throw my arms out like WTF:

“Why are you walking AWAY from the sunset, what is wrong with you? Do you hate beauty??”

She is pleasantly surprised by the encounter and gets mock defensive.

“No, you don’t understand I was just there for three hours! Here look at this…”

She shows me recent pictures of the skyline on her phone.

“That’s like a pre-sunset at best. That doesn’t count. C’mon we’re going back. You did it wrong. We have to see the REAL sunset!”

She doesn’t hesitate; she just smiles and starts walking with me. Instadate boooyyyyy! We talk. She is a junior—so about 20- or 21-years-old. Short, thin, somewhat androgynous, but she’s cute. A bit too hobbit-y for my taste, tbh. (White girls need to do something about that hair on their arms, and—I can only assume—on various more hidden places as well.) We find a mostly empty pier and sit very close, whispering and giggling about dumb shit for maybe 40 minutes while the sun disappears behind the horizon. I wrestle with whether I should go in for a kiss, but I feel no great urge… I don’t even know how to kiss! Also my kino has not been on point here, so it would be a clumsy advance. (Yes, yes. I’ma bish… I know. Fuck you, invisible big brothers. Right in your invisible asses.)

When our celestial spectacle ends I begin to spell her name out-loud as I type it in my phone—'K' 'Y' 'L'—signaling that she’s about to give me her number. She is impressed that I spell it correctly. “You are my designated sunset assistant,” I say as I hand her my phone. “I’ll let you know when the next job is. We’ve got more a lot more work to do.” She types in her number and seems to like the idea. “You run back home now, I’m just going to sleep here tonight,” I tell her as I lie back on the pier and gaze up into the emerging starlight. Later that night we trade a number of texts; she’s invested.

I wish I could have found Hailey, but I might actually be able to bang Kylie.




“Bye bye, boo. Maybe in next lifetime.”

Post: #29

(06-13-2018 07:34 AM)Avadhuta Wrote:  I can sense some social maladjustment from your posts. I think it's great that you have spurts of courage but your timing is off in your interactions.

"Please tell Arab to give me your number later… I will call."

That just makes you sound arrogant. Why would Sophie make the effort to do that if you didn't even make a proper move in the car after all that bravado? That was a clear case of overcompensating because you knew that you didn't take action in the car. Holding hands is cute but that girl was opening up to you and you had the chance to kiss her easily. You didn't and she got lukewarm. No surprise there. The phone number comment was probably a subconscious attempt to make you feel more valuable than the girl after you sensed her interest waned. That was two weak moves in a row. I doubt Sophie would be impressed.

Dismissing the arab woman was another example and it's no wonder she didn't feel like helping you with the phone number afterwards. If you want to dismiss a woman you have to have your frame established. This interaction happened with a person you don't know well, at her place, where you're invited. In such circumstances I build frame through being courteous and fun.

On another note, don't assume muslim or arab women take shit from men. I lived in Egypt for over a year and I can tell you they are the biggest shit-testers I've ever encountered and they're not afraid to be loud and confrontational.

Shoplifting. Another clue regarding your social maladjustment. If you're 40 years old and still pulling that kind of shit you seriously need to examine what you're trying to prove to yourself.

All in all I think it's great that you're trying to remedy your issues, but through the little you've written here, they seem to run very deep and they appear to be mostly with yourself rather than with women. I'd recommend a good dose of humble pie to start with. You can't be alpha posturing without being able to back it up.

Take things easier.

Good luck!

Avadhuta with some spot on analysis that you should read a few times over.

Pull the trigger:
Most importantly, you're still too scared or hesitant to make a move so when the girl starts showing interest you respond by being even "cooler" and more passive to avoid the risk of getting rejected and in hope that she'll just keep chasing and doing most of the work. We've all been there before.

Where there is no risk there's no reward. She was tossing up a softball for you to make a move, and the fact you didn't swing tells her you don't like her that much or you are too scared, both of which are going to make her uncomfortable and not want to continue hanging out.

There's rarely a perfect time to make a move, so you have to pick a spot. If you err on the side of going for it you won't have to do so much tossing and turning at the end of the night. You wouldn't even risk asking for the number which she probably would have given you even if she didn't want to hang out. Asking for the number was the least you could have done to show a little interest and push things forward. Strong men take action and don't rely on the girl or her friends to make things happen.

Fancy game syndrome:
I get the impression from your conversations you're trying to get too fancy. You're probably doing too much negging and "pushing." Your insecurities are probably compelling you to play this cocky macho character and it probably comes off as douchey or incongruent (e.g. "you're dismissed). If you are too judgmental or cocky in the beginning it's going to alienate women and badly handicap your results. Just be aware that first impressions are important so don't needlessly offend or insult.

Be realistic:
You're really swinging for the fences going after hot twenty year old college girls to lose your virginity at almost 40. At least understand that this demographic will be the most difficult for you in a vacuum and then add in the fact that you're cold approaching them with no social status. It's going to be a very low expectation return (likely sub 1%) so it's not a good arena for building confidence and it's almost pointless to try and make sense of the rejections.

Just find a wingman for nightlife and go after the type of women that show interest and are within your league. I'm not saying never go for much younger girls, but pining over a college girl because she talked to you and revisiting a spot in hopes she will be there is a terrible scarcity mindset and a waste of time. Find some venues that allow for easier conversations. That said, it is good that you're getting out there and getting as much conversational practice as you can because it will help regardless.


Summary:
You're obviously a pretty smart guy and I enjoy your writing style and recall of your conversations. The gold tooth strikes me as odd (what demographic are you trying to appeal to?) If you're smart and somewhat interesting you don't have to get fancy. Just work on being a bit more conscious of your social calibration and escalating when there is rapport and a girl is showing interest (even if it's just a bit of touching and asking for a number or suggesting plans etc). You have to risk losing to win. Say hi to people and take openings to talk to strangers when they arise, but you don't have to force it.

Post: #30

“There are two kinds of women… think carefully”

A few days ago I stopped by my homie Kate’s house and I found her Arab friend sitting in the kitchen crying. She’s a drama queen and her boyfriend treats her like shit. Without ever exchanging a word I walked over and gave her a strong, brotherly hug and then continued looking for Kate. Ever since she’s been sending me schmaltzy texts about what a great guy I am. Today she wrote: “I know you’re only nice to me so I’ll give you Sophie’s #, so here...”

I told her I wasn’t going to use it, and that I will ask her for the number myself—the right way—if we cross paths again. She writes back: “She said it was cool. I asked her.”

Now I feel like a bitch. If I get this lay it will be despite my game, not because of it.

(… actually I’d credit my dope-ass dismissal maneuver, since er’body gon’ give me shit about it!)





Later that night, about 2 AM, Amir knocks on my bedroom door:

“You’ll never guess what I did tonite?”

“Saw a Rolling Stones cover band.”

“OK, that too—rocked!—but after that I went to Stardust and I picked up a stripper!”

He chuckles a little while he says this, as if in disbelief of his own power level.

“Fucker. Tell me exactly how you did it, I’m going to do the exact same thing.”

Apparently they had a lap dance and then she told his friends that work there that she thought he was sexy and wanted to hook up tonight. Her type: older white guys with long curly hair. She picked HIM up. All he had to do was show up. What sorcery is this?

She rings the doorbell about 15 minutes later and they disappear into “the office” until the sun comes up.

I can’t compete with this guy! He’s really gotta bring a stripper over on the same day I plan on banging that hobbit?? Now I have to sneak her in and out my window.

And it’s not enough that he’s more charming than me, he allegedly accomplished this one on looks, even though he qualifies for senior discounts and I’m built like an action figure.

The debutante emerges to pee or something at about 5:30 AM, and I am in the kitchen, basically naked, gorging on my smorgasbord of POWER: mango, brussel sprouts, mushrooms, onions, garlic, and raw calf liver, while chugging from my stolen gallon of aloe vera. A squat, curvy, black 7 with a child’s face; doesn’t look a goddam day over 18. (Fucker.) I startle her a bit, but then she laughs: “Amir told me a lot about you. You’re cute”.

I grin back through a mouthful of food: “Tell your friends!”

Post: #31

Amir and his special new friend basically don’t leave the bedroom for 18 hours, and she’s supposed to come back again later tonight. He tells me he is worried she might want to repeat visit “too much” since most his nights are already booked fucking the 20-year-old he’s now been holding down for two years.

Meanwhile I texted the hobbit that I was kidnapping her today. She said she was busy; maybe another day. I am... not winning.

Status: 40-year-old virgin not banging strippers, hobbits or anything else in the foreseeable future.

Post: #32

Keep trying buddy. Can't let rejections get ya down.

Where are you located?

Post: #33

Thanks, man. I'll DM you the location. It's a pretty small city, so I'm kinda paranoid about doxxing myself with too much detail (I don't want my friends or potential partners ever finding this). She actually said 'maybe later this week' so I'll try her again on Sunday. But, yeah, I prolly lost out on the pier.

In retrospect (and, I imagine, especially to any person with normal teenage-levels of sexual experience) these really look like crazy obvious misses. But in the moment these novel interactions seem like such relatively big wins (to me!) already that my brain is just very resistant to further new risks. And I'm not really 'in my head' much while I'm socializing, so there are no bicameral nudges either. But I can do better.

I will get more comfortable escalating on women with each repeated kind of interaction. And then I will probably work through this basic shit much faster than most males do as adolescents, but I know it's still going to frustrate a lot of normal guys and seasoned players reading about it.

Post: #34

I send Sophie a few texts, admitting that I got her number from friends like a little bitch; then I invite her out to a bar tomorrow evening. In defiance of all obvious consequence and basic textgame guidelines, the messages are written in “how is babby form” E-tard speak, because I personally find it hilarious to text everyone like a sub-literate retard at all times. Especially, it would seem, women I'm trying to fuck, as I am laughing my ass off and supremely pleased with myself after hitting send. I think I'm so dope I can get away with it. She responds 12 hours later simply saying (in effect) that my texts made her laugh, but doesn’t even give me an answer. D’oh!





I’m starting to warm up to the Arab who keeps being nice to me, so I will stop being a racist douche and start calling her by her name, Aisha. Aisha does make-up, and there is a Goth-industrial themed event tonight that happens at a large local club once a month. It is not outside of the realm of possibility that I could pick up some girl at this club and bang her, and bang Sophie Saturday night, and still set a date with Kylie on Sunday and bang. Losing my V-card to a three-pussy weekend is not likely, but it somehow seems possible to me in my current optimism. Aisha could do my club make-up and presumably her company would make me look a little less socially dysfunctional. I ask her but she is spending time with her parents. I then realize that Goth Night is actually tomorrow night, so a two-pussy weekend is the best I can hope for. I am disappointed because I was looking forward to both a Sophie date and Goth Night.

Meanwhile Amir’s got the good kind of girl troubles. It’s 2 AM and his ~20-year-old stripper and his 20-year-old fuckbuddy both send texts saying that they are taking Ubers over to spend the night with alpha grandpa. He chooses fresh meat, and now needs to juggle his hoes like a zany 80s sitcom. He starts asking me for advice and things to text. This dude has known me for a decade-plus and has never seen me pull in any way, but still treats me like his pimp peer (He has a lot of other friends but only treats one other guy this way: his chad-hippie Boomer friend, Ben). I’m like Schrödinger's hustler: kissless wizard and honorary playa at the same time. We come to agree the best route going forward is to be honest about his lifestyle, yet as discreet as possible on the details, and set appropriate boundaries with both women.

In the end his sauced-up quasi-girlfriend gets there first and he rages on her to get her shit out of his bedroom and only come over when she’s invited from now on so he can live like he’s actually single. He is a short, thin guy, but his deep voice expresses loud, righteous anger like no one else. She starts collecting her things and weeping quietly like a little girl and he drives her home (where she apparently spazzed out and babbled about suicide on the front lawn). I let the stripper in maybe 5 minutes after they leave, and tell her he had to drive a drunk friend home. Crisis narrowly averted (for him) / hilarious shit show almost witnessed (for me).

Post: #35

I wonder if an attractive woman will ever cry or fight or suicide over me?

Post: #36

Yesterday I asked Sophie out to a bar at 9 pm tonight. But when I wake up at 8 pm, there is still no text answering whether she wants to see me or not—which itself is sort of an answer. I write Aisha that her friend has ghosted me, and that if I get no response by 9 we should go to Goth Night together. Moments later Sophie finally texts me expressing confusion. Aisha obviously just told her about my text. Sophie implies she knows of no date proposal, so I send her a screenshot of my texts, and she goes silent. (ok, perhaps my self-amusing tardspeak was maybe ill considered.) I ask her again (more clearly) if she wants to go out a little later tonight. She remains silent. I am wasting time. I want to go to Goth Night, but Sophie manages to stretch this bullshit out to 10 pm. Just say NO, already. Jesus. You’re writing me specifically to defend yourself against ghosting and then ghosting me two texts later? Why even respond in the first place? Aisha is also ignoring my invitation and instead sends me some lolzy, taunting texts about what a horny little ho Sophie is. I finally put the pieces together that they are actually together at some bar right now, drunk off their asses, and are actively mocking me while I waste my night away! THESE FUCKING BITCHES. My “friend” is literally hurting my feelings for her own amusement like a sociopath. Yet I was nothing but nice to her, as she herself reminded me all damn week! She’s garbage. I start getting my slut-gear on for Goth Night, bitching furiously to Amir and his stripper about these crass, hate-filled cunts. But I also calm down quickly because the night is young and literally none of this matters (And the painful truth is my yelping has more to do with the ordinary sting of rejection than it does the drunken, facile cruelty). I ask the stripper if she has some beauty talents to lend, and she is excited to do my hair and make-up for her own girly fun. She does an amazing job—even better than I could imagine in my head—and I legit look like an 80s vampire rock star. “Damn, you are definitely getting laid tonight” the stripper assures me unprompted. I like her.


“My guardian alpha commands me to slay tonight from beyond the grave”

Post: #37

Mate, I'm really enjoying this. Great lighthearted writing style, and a breath of fresh positivity which is often lacking around here these days.

I can't believe you haven't got laid already.

I do hope this isn't an elaborate troll job

Post: #38

13/100 Kat

I am sorry to inform you that I did not, in fact, get laid tonight, but I’ll say this: I gave it the college fucking try! I honestly don’t know what my “real” approach number is. I don’t tally most of my “approaches” because they are half-assed or inconsequential (This will probably inflate my bang ratio… if I ever even achieve a bang to ratio. I’m not sure how other guys qualify an “approach”). By the looser definition though, I hit on nearly every girl at Goth Night. OK, probably not close… but I flirted, or danced, or chatted with most of the plausibly fuckable and not obviously taken females I encountered. (For contrast I went to this same event with Amir three or four months ago and didn’t even approach one girl. Not even the 7 that I stared at from the sidelines while she stood alone at the bar for three whole minutes.)





My first approach of the night was an 8 standing right at the front entrance. She was not only the best looking girl at the club tonight IMHO, but the best looking girl I’ve probably approached since college (which, prior to 2016, is the last time I bothered trying to attract wimmin at all). Kat is a 20-something, blonde, cross-fit instructor with an awesome bod, and a wide, bright, cover-girl face. She was loitering with another girl and I asked them why the parking lot was closed off (I had to park a few streets down). Then I introduced myself. Her friend was a Russian, and I had trouble pronouncing her name. Kat bragged that she’s mastered several hard languages, including Chinese. I tried to counter-brag about how I lived in China for 7 months, but then Kat wanted to hear my Mandarin, which is absolute dogshit. She laughed at my demonstration and then DHVed me with her absurdly polished language skills. We chatted a little more and then Kat asked me to wait for her outside a minute while she took her friend somewhere. I told her no, I was just going to go in. (Yeah, eat that, shit-test.) Then, while I was paying the cover, she ran in past me and playfully bounced her butt against mine. When I entered the club, seconds later, I immediately grabbed her by both hands and pulled her onto the dance floor, where I wiggled stiffly and awkwardly and tried in vain to hold a conversation with her over the pounding techno beats.

We didn’t do this for too long. Kat introduced me to a few of her pretty friends (who I eventually danced with as well), and then fluttered away like a social butterfly. Lest I feel too special from her attentions: she was literally everybody’s friend. But whenever we passed each other for the rest of the night, she would flirt with me in some small, deliberate way—whipping me with her key chain or flicking her drink at me—but she would never stick around for long. At one point I snuck into a supply alcove and stole a banana (pro-tip: eating a banana on a dancefloor elicits a surprising amount of surprise. And smiles). Then Kat came up and theatrically deepthroated my phallic prop before biting off her greedy share… Wew! Sadly, she disappeared abruptly before the night was over. We never built much rapport, but I would’ve definitely asked her for her number had I known we were parting. I would kill to bang a girl like that. Or at least maim a little.

Post: #39

(06-24-2018 03:18 PM)Cuspids / Arrows Wrote:  Kat bragged that she’s mastered several hard languages, including Chinese. I tried to counter-brag about how I lived in China for 7 months, but then Kat wanted to hear my Mandarin, which is absolute dogshit.

Yuck.
Are you in DC? This sounds like a conversation I'd have in DC, Dupont Circle in particular...

In North Texas, virtually none of the local girls have traveled anywhere... It's nice.

You reminded me why I hate the Northeast and shall never return. You couldn't pay me to go to a venue where I have these kinds of conversations with chicks...

A girl who tries to brag/compete with you on her achievements is not feminine.

Post: #40

14/100 Barbara (… Boomers called, they want their name back)

Honestly I had every advantage tonight. I went shirtless and there was only one other guy who was definitely more buff than me (and when Kat was talking to him I became curiously invisible!), and maybe only several more that were about the same. But combined with the hair, make-up, boots, jewelry, etc, I really think I was the top dude there, visually. Certainly top 10%! Taking that into account with the dedicated approaching, and I feel like I really must be sucking at a lot of critical nightgame skills. Top-tier dude at sex-themed venue (Its more of an S&M than a “goth” event, with nude dancers) approaches every woman and still gets no real bites. How do normal dudes ever fucking do it??

Near last call, a girl that I had manhandled earlier in the night stalls out in front of me with her mouth open. I grab her again: “I had to say goodbye to someone, but something distracted me,” she laughs.

“Fuck em!” I tell her. “It’s just us now.”

“I have to leave!”

“Leave with me. You stay with me tonight.”

I try to kiss her and she turns her head.

“I’m a lesbian!” She giggles as she slips away. C’MON with this ‘lesbian’ shit!

The club flicks on their harsh GTFO halogens, and when I step outside I immediately feel more socially comfortable. It’s weird. It feels like daygame again. Now I’m doing more standard approaches on the overlooked fuckables. A slim 30-something brunette dressed like a Disney princess is chilling out with her fat busty friend. (You can tell princess is covered in that white girl hobbit hair, but she at least has the good taste to bleach it.) I open them and we start walking together. As we chat a chick from the dancefloor begins to pack into a car with her friends.

“Yo, dancefloor girl,” I shout to her. “Your moves made me feel all… um, weird... in my pants”.

“What???” she responds.

“I kept wanting to come over and dance with you, but you were too damn sexy; it was intimidating.”

“No way”, she says, “I wanted to dance with YOU, but I was scared like “That’s a Wild Man… that dude dances ALONE.”

I could’ve sworn she gave me a bitchy look on the dancefloor once when I got too close. Then she danced with one guy for a long time, and I thought it was her boyfriend.

“What the fuck… GET OVER HERE! I need that body against me.”

“OK,” she says, as she moves in for the embrace, “stomachs together.”

We press tight against eachother, groin to chest, stare into each others eyes and playfully bicker. I try to kiss her but she pivots her head away exactly like the other girl: “Only the cheek.”

“I’m getting that number tho,” I tell her as I hand her my phone. She looks kind of like a plain, nerdy librarian in the face… something I didn’t notice inside. But all those curves sure looked nice in motion. This demands further investigation.


15/100 Kelly

The Disney Princess and her friend hover nearby while I administer a handsy farewell to my dancer girl. We regroup and I try to pull them into my car for a late-nite joyride. Disney seems to like the idea but the fatty knows her (all too familiar) role here and just wants to go home. That is until Disney mentions wanting to get something to eat from the all-night taco joint. Now the friend is ready to stay!

Disney invites me along and I decline, but then she offers to buy my meal if I come. Fuck yeah, sugar mama! Those 3AM taco plates are like $15. Who even has that kind of money?

Kelly is a white, recently divorced, early 30s 7. She’s a little tipsy and, perhaps unwisely, lets it slip (with a cute, earnest little pout) that she’s been played about 4 times recently. Both Sophie and the girl that came over to my house for dinner last year (my two biggest “success” stories, I guess.) were white, recently divorced, sexually promiscuous, alcoholic, early 30s 7s.

Are these similarities coincidence or are there patterns here I should be aware of? Maybe these hoes are the phytoplankton of the casual sex ecosystem.

Is this age gap because I’m an “attractive for 40” man, and that’s comparable in market value to an “attractive for 30” woman? And what’s with the constellation of traits? Is it because these girls are prototypical bad decision makers and attraction towards a shiftless deadbeat such as myself is just another manifestation of their broader pathology (this would also explain why they keep running away when they figure out I’m really a pussy faux-badass, and won’t actually beat them). Or is it because this suite of traits simply describes some absurd percentage of the female population? Like 25% of women are this same depressing girl or something?

Anyhow I swiped Kelly’s digits, and we’ve been texting each other. Like SSRIs, I’ma be all up in these dysfunctional bitches.

Post: #41

(06-24-2018 03:32 PM)FullThrottleTX Wrote:  Yuck.
Are you in DC? This sounds like a conversation I'd have in DC, Dupont Circle in particular...

A lot smaller than DC, and not coastal. But yeah, another 90%+ Obama enclave, with a lot of similar girls, I imagine.

That Hailey bitch was another bull-busting braggart. I have no cash, high-roller job, or showroom credential, so I can't play those cards anyway. But I do have some intellectual capital and life experience to pull rank on SWPL chicks... especially the younger b-busters.

Post: #42

(06-24-2018 03:58 PM)Cuspids / Arrows Wrote:  

(06-24-2018 03:32 PM)FullThrottleTX Wrote:  Yuck.
Are you in DC? This sounds like a conversation I'd have in DC, Dupont Circle in particular...

A lot smaller than DC, and not coastal. But yeah, another 90%+ Obama enclave, with a lot of similar girls, I imagine.

That Hailey bitch was another bull-busting braggart. I have no cash, high-roller job, or showroom credential, so I can't play those cards anyway. But I do have some intellectual capital and life experience to pull rank on SWPL chicks... especially the younger b-busters.

Yeah. That gets exhausting though.
It's one of the reason so many DC/NYC guys are on the forum.
If I got my start with game in the South or a more conservative place I might not have the same opinions that brought me here.

Post: #43

My alpha bud Jimmy lives in Dallas. Maybe I should burn this town to the ground with shameless mass-approaching, and then start over there with the skills acquired.

Post: #44

(06-24-2018 04:11 PM)Cuspids / Arrows Wrote:  My alpha bud Jimmy lives in Dallas. Maybe I should burn this town to the ground with shameless mass-approaching, and then start over there with the skills acquired.

Yeah! Dallas is pretty great for game if you're a professional and have a decent income. The women are really high quality and the bar ratios in a lot of areas are pretty good. The logistics are the hardest thing to deal with here, but if you can zone in on some areas you're golden.

Post: #45

1. As you gain more experience with women, even if nothing has come from it so far, you'll learn what does and doesn't work. I've read a few of your stories, and nothing genuinely stands out as alarming as much as just inexperienced with women. Keep it up.

(06-21-2018 06:02 AM)Cuspids / Arrows Wrote:  

▼▼ᑇ ῠ Ѕ ⅊ Ι ᵈ ѕ.╱Ⱥ Ʀ Ṝ ờ ሡڲ ►►
Day 12: 6/19/18

I got caught shoplifting for the first time. Uh oh, looks like prison really is closer than un-virginity. (… plz jeebus not like dis!! ) I didn’t get busted, but the staff of a local supermarket chased me out after I overstuffed a pair of cargo pants with a bunch of bullshit supplements. Well, I guess they weren’t trying to “chase me out” so much as they wanted me to stop so that we could all wait for the cops together and I could get arrested. That didn’t seem like a great plan to me, so I walked out and didn’t look back. It was four in the morning and I tried to take side streets home, and I’m grateful no cop cars chanced by, because I stick out like a sore thumb.

I guess I can’t go back to the grocery store I’ve shopped at for nearly a decade, since they know who I am. I need to cut this dumb shit out! But it feels so easy now… my heart rate doesn’t even change. I think I subconsciously vandalized my brain’s delicate risk-taking circuitry so that I could approach co-eds, and now this psychological auto-hacking is creating all kinds of negative externalities on my behavior. I used to have self-control. Soon I expect to be having drunk, unprotected sex with ultra-skanks. Then I’ll get fugly MMA sleeve tattoos and start taking opioids or meth or whatever shit it is impulsive white rejects like me are now “accidentally” offing themselves with, on mass, in the current year.

2. Lay off the shoplifting.

Quote:I send Sophie a few texts, admitting that I got her number from friends like a little bitch; then I invite her out to a bar tomorrow evening. In defiance of all obvious consequence and basic textgame guidelines, the messages are written in “how is babby form” E-tard speak, because I personally find it hilarious to text everyone like a sub-literate retard at all times. Especially, it would seem, women I'm trying to fuck, as I am laughing my ass off and supremely pleased with myself after hitting send. I think I'm so dope I can get away with it. She responds 12 hours later simply saying (in effect) that my texts made her laugh, but doesn’t even give me an answer. D’oh!

3. HankMoody had a good forum post on texting game - read it.
/thread-51731.html

I do wonder if you're trying to self-sabotage with your texting - after all, rejections don't sting as much if you don't give it your best shot. Just try following basic text game guidelines and see how that works.

Quote:The Disney Princess and her friend hover nearby while I administer a handsy farewell to my dancer girl. We regroup and I try to pull them into my car for a late-nite joyride. Disney seems to like the idea but the fatty knows her (all too familiar) role here and just wants to go home. That is until Disney mentions wanting to get something to eat from the all-night taco joint. Now the friend is ready to stay!

Disney invites me along and I decline, but then she offers to buy my meal if I come. Fuck yeah, sugar mama! Those 3AM taco plates are like $15. Who even has that kind of money?

Kelly is a white, recently divorced, early 30s 7. She’s a little tipsy and, perhaps unwisely, lets it slip (with a cute, earnest little pout) that she’s been played about 4 times recently. Both Sophie and the girl that came over to my house for dinner last year (my two biggest “success” stories, I guess.) were white, recently divorced, sexually promiscuous, alcoholic, early 30s 7s.

Are these similarities coincidence or are there patterns here I should be aware of? Maybe these hoes are the phytoplankton of the casual sex ecosystem.

Is this age gap because I’m an “attractive for 40” man, and that’s comparable in market value to an “attractive for 30” woman? And what’s with the constellation of traits? Is it because these girls are prototypical bad decision makers and attraction towards a shiftless deadbeat such as myself is just another manifestation of their broader pathology (this would also explain why they keep running away when they figure out I’m really a pussy faux-badass, and won’t actually beat them). Or is it because this suite of traits simply describes some absurd percentage of the female population? Like 25% of women are this same depressing girl or something?

Anyhow I swiped Kelly’s digits, and we’ve been texting each other. Like SSRIs, I’ma be all up in these dysfunctional bitches.

You're definitely an entertaining writer.

It's most likely a pattern.

Both men and women tend to attract a certain type. "white, recently divorced, sexually promiscuous, alcoholic, early 30s 7s" might be one of your types for the time being.

I've had two types of women that I consistently attract, one with whom oddly enough I never get anywhere (just dates and texting, waste of time) and the other that I consistently bang. There are probably a few more niche groups I can get with. Just haven't explored them all.

My guess: you probably just hang out in crowds and venues that are filled with that type. You might also do well (or much better) with other types of women, but that'll require you to step outside your comfort zone more and explore.


Keep it up though! Every approach, date, experience is a new opportunity to get feedback and incorporate game lessons.

Post: #46

You said you are around a lot of role models that have a lot of success with women and you're currently roommates with some others, do you think this could actually be having a negative affect on you rather then a positive? I notice a lot of guys that are successful with women and are a conventional "Alpha" aren't really surrounded by other positive role models that are successful. Success with the other sex is very much a selfish thing and there is no reason to be around other men if your goal is to get girls. You seem to be very in your head with your write ups on the different attempts you've had. My advice is to separate yourself from all these "role models" and see what kind of man you become and if it raises your success with women.

Post: #47

(06-21-2018 06:02 AM)Cuspids / Arrows Wrote:  

▼▼ᑇ ῠ Ѕ ⅊ Ι ᵈ ѕ.╱Ⱥ Ʀ Ṝ ờ ሡڲ ►►
Day 12: 6/19/18

I got caught shoplifting for the first time. Uh oh, looks like prison really is closer than un-virginity. (… plz jeebus not like dis!! ) I didn’t get busted, but the staff of a local supermarket chased me out after I overstuffed a pair of cargo pants with a bunch of bullshit supplements. Well, I guess they weren’t trying to “chase me out” so much as they wanted me to stop so that we could all wait for the cops together and I could get arrested. That didn’t seem like a great plan to me, so I walked out and didn’t look back. It was four in the morning and I tried to take side streets home, and I’m grateful no cop cars chanced by, because I stick out like a sore thumb.

I guess I can’t go back to the grocery store I’ve shopped at for nearly a decade, since they know who I am. I need to cut this dumb shit out! But it feels so easy now… my heart rate doesn’t even change. I think I subconsciously vandalized my brain’s delicate risk-taking circuitry so that I could approach co-eds, and now this psychological auto-hacking is creating all kinds of negative externalities on my behavior. I used to have self-control. Soon I expect to be having drunk, unprotected sex with ultra-skanks. Then I’ll get fugly MMA sleeve tattoos and start taking opioids or meth or whatever shit it is impulsive white rejects like me are now “accidentally” offing themselves with, on mass, in the current year.

This is another Dragan style troll account designed to leave clues but then break down into an all out discrediting of this forum. Drunks, park benches, shoplifting.

The forum is literally infiltrated at this moment in time. It's all fake and it's there so that some SJW media can point back (after a member gets arrested for "shoplifting" or __________.) and say SEE THIS ALL OF YOU ARE __________.

Post: #48

Well admittedly I broke forum rules by discussing illegal activities, and I will accept the consequences for that if deemed necessary. But I also renounced those activities (quote: "I need to cut this dumb shit out!"), and the responses were unanimous that I should stop.

It's hard to be honest if I have to censor myself, and in my case, at least, the onset of shop-lifting and other kinds of impulsive/risk-taking behaviors have coincided with the ongoing, deliberate internal psychological alterations it's taken me to cold approach women. I would not include those details if I did not believe they were related or relevant, but I do.

I'm not a feminist double agent, but I'd like to think that if I were, I could somehow do something grander for The Cause than getting arrested at a Walmart for stealing vitamins and then outing myself as a virgin to the press.

Post: #49

Also I will DM anyone who asks physique pix which will definitively PROVE I am NOT a sjw.

disclaimer: I will not send pix, and if u ask u r homo.

Post: #50

(06-25-2018 12:36 PM)Off The Reservation Wrote:  This is another Dragan style troll account designed to leave clues but then break down into an all out discrediting of this forum. Drunks, park benches, shoplifting.

The forum is literally infiltrated at this moment in time. It's all fake and it's there so that some SJW media can point back (after a member gets arrested for "shoplifting" or __________.) and say SEE THIS ALL OF YOU ARE __________.