Rekindling the Love

These last couple of weeks have been a fucking shit storm of negative thoughts flying around my head. Shit as extreme as thinking of dropping out of the scene and totally hating women. For a while there, I lost all regard and sympathy for all other human beings. It’s not a good place to be. Anyways, I finally managed to flick the cold I’ve had for a few weeks and picked myself up and went out.

The last two nights have been fun as hell.

I started watching Tim’s Flawless Natural last week and he talks about opening the first girl you see in the place when you walk in and staying in set for the first 20 minutes to pump yourself up for the rest of the night. I gotta say that this is money. It gets you out of your head so quickly, easily the biggest lesson from the night. Suddenly creativity has sparked up and we are doing ridiculous things generating a crapload of attention from nearby onlookers.

The second night was the almost the same but on steroids. A three story club with multiple dance floors and heaps of bars with a Red Bull promo event, packed to the brim with eager college kids. Play time. Full enjoyment deluxe. Doing the first thing that comes into my head at all times. Somehow we end up with a half mannequin, which is introduced to girls who are then encouraged to makeout with it. ‘Bob’ ends up in a few photo shoots’, chairs are worn as hats, other broken chairs are used as bucking bulls and friends are encouraged to hook up with mingers.

You see, when you are having ridiculous amounts of fun, emotions are pumped which completely disengages the logical mind – something I’ve found incredibly hard to achieve with my lovely logical engineering background. Suddenly, there are no interrupting thoughts as you go to open, there is no worrying about responsibility for your actions and no stress. Just pure, raw, childlike fun. Awesome.

I did however notice some side effects of this state. When talking to a girl, the ADD style mode I had generated had me always looking to somewhere else to have more fun. Girls were suddenly boring as fuck. Once I was done with my fun opener, they were boring me shitless. Maybe I was just talking to the wrong girls, but I just could not lock in the bubble of love. My attention was always in the wrong place looking for the next hit of something fun. I think it may just require a bit of calibration to lock down some intent when it is required.

Either way, I have rekindled the love for going out and will hopefully be able to write up some decent reports in the coming weeks.

Peace.

 Mail this post

You Are Not A Special Snowflake

Every night I am witness to a blur of names, faces, glitter, booming music and flashing lights. The bartenders produce an endless stream of alcohol, emptying purses, wallets and bank accounts of hard earned cash. This intoxicating combination of carbon, oxygen and hydrogen is used by the hordes to drown their sorrows, boost an otherwise inferior self-confidence, create some plausible deniability to get their fuck on, or just because “everyone else is doing it.”

The crowd bounces to a series of doofs, zings and whirs played over the top of a once classic song. Girls stand in the middle of the dance floor trying to look sexy while the masses of men ogle and drool, wishing they had the confidence to approach them. Maybe the guys explain to their friends how much they would like to ‘fuck the shit out of that whore’, sounding very cool. Maybe they make no mention of it in case their friends tell them to approach. They don’t want to be made fun of when they bitch out.

Some bloke has spent the last 15 minutes watching the stunner in the middle of the dance floor. He can’t help but be amazed by her shiny dress, her six inch heels and her near perfect body as it sways and kicks to the beat. He finally musters up the confidence, moves closer and tries to introduce himself over the music, since he knows no better.

The girl tells him to “fuck off”, turns her back and grinds up on her girlfriend, pumping even more hormones through the veins of the non-sexworthy onlookers. The attention, the music and the candywater in hand are all she needs to feel good about herself for this night. Her emotions are running wild and she is loving it. Never mind the bloke, who is now subject to laughs and sniggers from a bunch of wankers who never had the balls to approach, and never will. But if you ask them, they “could totally get her if they really wanted her”. For a minute there, our boy let go enough to put himself on the line to appraoch the girl. He now walks back to his mates, deflated and sad, never to approach a girl again….

Rejection fucking hurts at times. The thing is, it really shouldn’t matter. You’re only programmed to think that it hurts. It can be wiped and reprogrammed, through the process of desensitisation. There’s a big difference between a guy who gets brutally shot down again and again, picking himself up each time and a guy who makes one attempt every six months. Oh, but my situation is different, I feel X and Y and I can’t do it because of Z. Shut the fuck up. You are not special.

You are letting your reality, ego and self esteem be dictated by a bunch of external factors, mainly women. Oh but what if she doesn’t like me? What if she tells me to fuck off? What if she tells all her friends I’m a creep? Honestly, who the fuck cares. She is not special.

Think about these girls who you are letting dictate how you feel about yourself.

“Hi, I’m Stacy, I left my crappy job early to spend two hours in the mirror, applying 4 inches of makeup and fake tan. I redid my hair four times to get it like this. I bought this ridiculously expensive sparkly dress which helps push my boobs together because Cosmo said it was the shit. I walked straight to the front of the line tonight because last week I hit on the fatman bouncer, who remembers me because his dick gets hard every time he sees me *giggle*. I’ve also been flirting with the bartender who thinks he has a chance, so will go to the ends of the earth to provide me with cheap or free drinks to keep me happy. I’m going to get approached by a bunch of guys tonight and I’m going to reject all of them (not before using them for some free drinks), making me feel so good about myself. At the end of the night, I’m going to go home and get double teamed by the DJ and the club owner in a random hotel room as they take photos. In the morning I’ll go buy some more cigarettes and figure out which pills I’m taking the following night, after all it’s this stuff that keeps me skinny. Then I’ll go back to my shitty ass job and start all over again. Yaaaaay!”

Really? You’re going to let HER make you feel down and dejected when she turns her back on you?

Yuck. Yuck yuck yuck. Yuck. But it makes you sad? I’m sorry, but you are not special.

There’s a lot of weak people in that story. How do you think the girl feels deep down when she realises she has nothing of substance going for her? Yes, it happens. She isn’t always as happy as she seems in the club. Blokes who pretend they are the shit but under the cover of their over-inflated egos are a child desperately calling out for a little love. A normally power tripping dick boy of a bouncer who suddenly becommes putty in the hands of an attractive woman. A bartender who fails to see that the girl is simply using him. None of you are special.

I was totally blind to this kind of shit before I found the community. This is the kind of stuff I wish I didn’t know, to be honest. This and other things like learning how women are biologically wired to cheat. It makes me a little sad. It doesn’t provide a lot of hope for mankind, but it does help cultivate a big drive to rise above all of it.

It doesn’t really suprise me how a lot of community guys develop either a hate for some women or an inability to trust them ever again. It’s not new information that many community guys enjoy getting theirs back at society for the endless torture as a kid by fucking as many women as possible, not really helping with their own insecurities. I’m not going to lie, there’s a crapload of girls I’d love to degrade in some way. Maybe batting their face around with my cock before blowing a load in their eyes, denying them a hand towel or shower and sending them on their way. It’s kinda angry I know, but fuck the kind of girl I have in mind annoys the shit out of me.

But I trust that there are positives to be found somewhere. There ARE some fucking awesome girls out there. I’m beginning to think that the club is not the place to find them, though. Sure cool girls still go to the club, but I liken it to trying to find a gold ring in a sewerage treatment plant. A big one.

But where are the girls who have a life outside the veil of fake tan, drugs and make up? The girls who enjoy hanging out under a blanket watching a movie before a night of amazing sex? The girls who don’t look for validation in every corner and will have a, god help me, actual fun, interesting conversation? (No, I don’t fucking care what name Sally at work called you) The girls who will get hammered with you, cut loose and stand up and yell at a game of footy?

Where the fuck are you?

 Mail this post

Attract Women – My Favorite Kind of Bird

This being my first post, I’ll give you a history lesson…

Me:
I got introduced to The Game at the start of last year.
Before I had finished reading it, I met a girl who turned out to be my girlfriend for the next year. After we broke up at the start of this year, I was pretty keen to get back into what I never really had a chance to get into in the first place – becoming a PUA and slaying bad bitches.

My Game:
I tend to rely purely on Social Proof (a bit too much I must admit).. I’m not too keen on routines, more of a natural game guy. I’m comfortable opening, closing, but I’m shit at the inbetweens.

Ok so January 2008 I was the devo guy… fast forward 6 months and I’m been doing aiiight. Highlights have included a last minute desperation myspace bootycall hookup on a sunday night in which redtube was the only other option, and the quote “its in my hair”… hahaha too good. When getting head do we really have to tell them when we’re about to blow? Isn’t that kind of like having a surprise party for a mate at his house and telling him just before he walks in the door?

Anyway… Thursday a friend of mine had told me she knows a nympho girl who thinks i’m the coolest guy with the raddest style. Turns out i’ve never seen this girl in my life (see? social proof. i can’t help myself from relying on it). As slightly creeped out as I was… I am on a 6 month Severe Warning Level 3 Drought* so yiewwww I was frothin for some action.

*Our crew invented a means of categorising our droughts in levels…
Level 1 – Hookup Drought
Level 2 – Down below drought (includes playing the dj, blowjobs, etc…)
Level 3 – Root drought (so yep… I was ‘ootless in 2008)
and then there’s a whole other heap of ones that include Level Negative 10 (going home with a chick and only getting cuddles – which I recently got… its FUCKED), Level 100 (fclosing a milf)….. and the list goes on…

Thursday night:
Met the girl, who I will call MBB. She was so keen it made me sick.. She was bailing early and I had other plans already so I typed 04 into my phone and passed it to her.

Friday night:
I’m in my 2nd favourite club (I personally rate clubs on who and who many people i know there), just vibing generally having a good time with crew and sussing out the talent. I had messaged MBB earlier on and she was going to be out on a girls night at some other mud club. She ended up ditching her girls, and coming to meet me. She was dropping my name to other girls, saying she was there to see me! It was on. She thinks I’m a superstar! I didnt pay any attention to her or even hang around her the whole night hahahaa until about half hour before we were ready to bail. I found her, made out with her, and took her hand and said we were leaving.

Back at my mates place with the crew, to isolate her I asked her ‘have you been given the tour of the house?’
Next thing i know we’re on the bed… i grabbed her hand and put it on my cock. She was frothing hard out and we were undressing each other. I noticed a tattoo to the right of her pussy… what a slut!

She would try to resist and say she didnt want to do anything but then she’d keep going. After a while I got over her little games and fell asleep.. woke up after a bit and my fingers were playing the DJ and she was grabbing my dick. It was on. I’m on top pumping, she’s on top riding me like a redtube 5 star rated video (do you ever not laugh when you mention redtube? so good), im on top, then I hear “fuck me doggy”. The sex went on for soooo long that I was getting over it and generally frustrated cause I couldnt blow. I ripped the condom off (dry as fuck) and pushed her head down. 20 minutes later BOOMMM!!! Massive weight lifted off my shoulder! (or should i say, off my balls?) Its the worst thing to get a root and not blow.. to the point where I’d rather not get the root at all. Do you agree?

While all of this is going through my head (along with the fact I’m ready to pass out) I failed to realise that she was still going at it, cleaning it all up! I tapped her on the shoulder and told her to stop cos my dick was fucking hurting!

So back to the title question:
What is my favourite type of bird? Easy…

SWALLOW

 Mail this post

Reflections in Time Off

I’m back from my 9 day trip where girls were off limits. Nothing like a good old break to reflect on things and carve up one of the best snow seasons Mt. Hutt has seen. Fuck yeah.

Oh and my 30 day numbers ban is almost finished.

Side note: Even though girls were off limits it didn’t stop me having a crack when the rare opportunity arose (the snow town was like 0.5% hot women). One occasion I got retardedly drunk and busted out the verbal abuse cannon when a girl said anything that slightly annoyed me. Another occasion I got retardedly drunk (seeing a trend emerge?) and smoothness level dropped to “minimum”. OTOH, I had a 4 hour convo with two cuties on the flight over to NZ so I proved to myself that my conversational skills ARE actually there, somewhere.

Anyways, some thinking made me realise I still have a truckload of ego tied up in pulling. “Oh that guys pulls more then me”, “Why is that guy getting that girl he’s a fuckhead”, “oh yes I’m getting laid now I can write a report on the internet to show off to a bunch of guys I’ve never met”.

Fuck that. No more. Who am I in this for?

I’m kinda considering getting a gf at the moment. I can’t see much wrong with having regular sex with a cool, hot girl occasionally in public locations. Why the hell do I care what # of women I’ve slept with? I’m not actively searching for a gf, but if it happens, it happens.

The second big shift I feel I have made is adding some selfishness into my personality. It may be a little dark, but I’m getting pretty frustrated with people. There’s a lot of cunts out there – male and female. If someone is acting like a fucktard early on in the interaction, why would I hang around and waste my time. If my impression of them is bad, I’m out.

Unfortunately right now I can’t do shit because I’m coughing to the tune of shotguns and constantly feel like I’ve been smacked across the head with a big brick, but it’ll pass soon enough.

Gotta get back into the field so I can actually post something potentially helpful….

Oh and also I think I’m ditching the idea of routines. Not only do I tense up at the thought of using them, but I’m way too fucking lazy to write them and figure them out. Watching some flawless natural and reading up on Alex~’s blog has pounded it into my head that routines are completely fucking unnecessary.

 Mail this post