I’m sick of the amount of emphasis put on the tiny ass things in game. Little one liners that worked here or there, which way your fauxhawk is pointing or even having a bad night are all completely meaningless. I think people lose focus of the long run of actual self transformation.

Just by Not Being Weird, having girls in your life, doing some appraoching and knowing how to escalate, guys WILL get laid. It’s simple. And you can do it wihtout being a creepy weird pickup guy. As for Not Being Weird, I am still trying to put into words so that weird cunts can stop doing whatever it is they are doing that makes everyone around think they are retarded. All of those things are pretty easy to accomplish given that you aren’t a half wit.

Not being weird – if people scrunch their face up when you do or say something…. stop doing that. It also helps if you have a buddy who can point out stupid shit that you do, so arrange a complete honesty system between you and your wing. That’s one of the greatest things I ever did. (Also, read http://www.esquire.com/features/honesty0707)

Having girls in your life – play in mixed sports, clubs, work, whatever, and get to know people. Those people have friends. Those friends also have friends. Getting introduced is a hell of a lot easier then constantly approaching.

Approach – Ballsing up and saying Hi. Yes, sometimes it is that simple. “Hi I thought you looked cool and wanted to say hi”

Knowing how to escalate – Touch her, but don’t grab her box in the first 5 minutes (unless she’s obviously going to be into it). Once again, just manning up. She rejected your kiss? Meh, keep talking and try again later. Dancing. Grabbing her hand and leading through the club. Learn by fucking it up.

And that’s me done. The small shit doesn’t matter. Just be cool.

The Normanby, now more affectionately referred to as the Whoremanby, witnessed the two of us with stars in our eyes, eager as we would ever be, gallavant around the place talking to strangers, running trains, collecting numbers and overgaming causing female brain-fry. The common mindset throughout the night was “Holy fuck, THIS SHIT IS WORKING!!!”. Suddenly a whole new world had opened up, and for me the last 9 or so months spent doing jack shit and worrying about girls seemed so retarded. The high generated on that night ran for an entire week.

One week later, in which we had more adventures then our 6 months previous, we meet Tone. The Briscrew had begun to form. That same weekend, we dedicate to a 30-day challenge. For me this also included replacing 5 nights a week on the booze to a few glasses of water a night.

Those 30 days were the wildest mix of ecstasy, pain, fun, extreme tiredness and ego destruction that I have and will probably ever experience in a similar time period. All the while trying to balance my 8-5 Engineering job. Less than 5 hours sleep a night.

In the next thirty days, we well overuse the cyclone, discover the lime squeeze, become approach machines and meet Storm~ who gets his first club makeout. I start an awesome open relationship with an amazing girl who has since become my “one who got away”. We make idiots of ourselves in countless public places in the name of indifference. The Briscrew is extended to include Shift, Red Leader and J-Rad. We experiment with nights of extreme high energy chaos, and nights of low energy chilling. Kim almost gets punched and I have a run in with my girl’s psycho stalker ex-boyfriend. I get my first sub 30 minute pull. We travel 1000 kilometers to see Jeffy in Sydney, have our heads blown off by Cieran’s intro speech, and meet up with a ton of the Aussie RSD presence. I snake an ex-stripper waitress out from under literally about one hundred guys hitting on her at an engineering convention. And most of all we had our realities ripped to fucking shreds.

That first month outdid everything I had done in the 21 years prior.

The next month is Mission Fearless Warrior. Fear becomes our compass. If it scares you, it gets done. Period. Mega sets? Done. Mixed sets with angry guys? Done. You get the drift. We round out the month in bootcamp style. Kimball in Sydney with Ozzie one week, and me on the Gold Coast with Alex and Saad the next. Yet another 30 days of bullshit high levels of improvement and mind fuckery.

They often say that after bootcamp, a lot of guys experience a massive slump as you rearrange your identity and start coming at this from a different place. You can throw me into that pile.

This manifested as three months of drought. Ya, some guy who’s supposedly ‘good with girls’ can’t get a shag to save his life. It got to the point where I just surrendered to not getting laid. Intent therefore suffered, and I ended up in a shithouse downward spiral. I still went out, good (fun) nights were still had and life went on, I just wasn’t doing very well with the girls. All the while, Kimball WAS.

Comparison with other guys is something that will royally fuck your shit up. I learned this big time. I’d be lying to say I wasn’t jealous as FUCK, and mega pissed at my situation. Oddly enough, as soon as I simply recognised that this comparison was the source of my worries, after a bit of analysis and re-framing, I was back to feeling awesome again.

The downturn is understandable though. Bootcamp teaches you to operate from a completely different place then what I was beforehand. You start out pushing buttons to get silly reactions that pump your state, and afterwards you are struggling to come to terms with “you are enough”. Once again, it’s persistence and determination that seperates winners and losers. I digress.

Anyway, no fucking way was I giving up.

A 30 day numbers ban was launched, as I was always the guy who took digits, dated and went the slow way about getting laid. This would also get girls into a cherish/girlfriend frame, which fucked me on MANY occasions.

So, I was going on 3 months no sex, sad as fuck, confused as hell, zero intent. On returning from a no-girls snowboarding holiday with some time for head clearing, within a few weeks I’ve got more girls then I know what to do with. You just don’t appreciate times like these without having gone through the bad. “Without the bitter baby, the sweet aint as sweet”

Next the internationals start rolling over and joining the crew, albeit temporarily. Herman and caveman86, you fuckers rock.

Then came Jimmy’s Eurotour of Desire. If you’re thinking of travelling, just do it. And not some piss ass one or two week thing, I’m talking pulling yourself out of your normal life for at least a couple of months. Fuck your shit up. Anyone that knew me well before and after my two months in Euroland will attest to how much I changed. Night and fucking day. Realising your insignificance and how much awesome shit there is to do out there without getting laid, girls aren’t so important anymore

—–

Having an awesome wing really shines out in the low times. Hour long chats on the phone at 2am discussing the random adventures, mischief or destruction of the night. Up to two hour debriefs going over everything from life to fucked up mind patterns to girls. It’s invaluable to have honest, unfront feedback from someone who seems everything you do in social interactions. Figuring out each other sticking points is the second best thing about having a good wing. No doubt I would not be where I am having not met KB. Fuck, I’d probably have less then 50 lifetime approaches.

On the flip side, there’s still shit bits. Accidental, subtle out-alphaing in set and messing with each others states through subconscious comparison with each other. If one guy is having an epic night while the other is throwing a sad, the gap can oftentimes be amplified. But I think that shit helps with learning the way your mind operates and in turn fixing it.

It’s also good to have a couple of perspectives on things. Everything new we learned we would try to implement at the same time, coming from two different angles ie. Kim being naturally more dominant versus myself as the fun cool guy. It shows you anything can work. The super physically phase after bootcamp had bitches getting thrown around left and right for a few months before we toned it town a bit. There was the ridiculous opener phase, the obnoxious cunt phase and the ‘total belief’ phase where we would skip lines and get into venues by walking straight past bouncers.

Then there’s the stories.

Making out with the same girls without realising it, destorying entire sections of clubs, my hooking up with an engaged deaconess, Kim developing a knack for sex in public areas, finding out a girl was 16 after a box rub makeout session, drunken afterparties with Alex~, failed double pulls, our first double pull featuring Pyro cherry ripe, Amogging by hitting the bloke with your dick, Kim copping BJ’s in clubs, pulling promo girls, major league dance team girls, it goes on and on. Coming from two different places, our adventures were usually so different. While Kimball was railing girls in alleyways, I’d be dating two or three girls.

A year on, we both destroyed our original goals of 12 girls in 12 months, have had the biggest fucking rollercoaster of highs and lows, pissed off a lot of people but made some awesome mates, and completly evolved as people.

These days, I’ve got myself a girlfriend and am putting a shitload more focus into making life head the way I want it. Getting SAF (sexy as fuck), taking up new hobbies, working in areas that I like and planning my move to Canada for a year. As for Kim you’d have to ask, I don’t think he’s knows what he’s doing. Hopefully he ends up in Canada too though.

So that’s my last year in the game. Morals of the story: it’s possible, get a wing and get motivated. Chances are you are completely underestimating the amount of shit you are capable of, cause I sure as fuck did, and still do to a lesser extent.

There really is no excuses.

To the South East Queensland crew

Manndingo, Kimball, shift, Red Leader, Matt_, J-Rad, SeanT, Syncoast, Achilles, Storm~, Juba, caveman86 and Herman

Love you cunts.

You think it would be obvious.

I don’t know how many times I’ve read it. Being “out of your head”, not thinking, doing whatever comes into your mind. The list goes on. We’ve all heard some variation of it about a million times.

Fair enough, I thought. I’ll go out and say what comes into my head. There I was, talking some serious bullshit. It was great. I’d be cracking myself up, cracking other people up or confusing them with complete nonsense. But it was just as hit and miss as whatever I was doing before that. The thing is, I was still trying so hard to generate that randomness and illogicality. I always talked a fair bit of shit, so [b]trying[/b] to be even more illogical just felt dumb.

I think I’m finally starting to realise what Alex~ means when he says “you are a man with his two feet on the ground, from there you generate attraction”. It means [b]trusting[/b] in the fact that you already ARE attractive. You don’t have to do anything.

I realised when doing a set with Alex with these two attention whore type girls who were making out with and groping each other and running around like fucking magpies (our term for girls who go after the first shiny thing they see).

Both of us are leaning back against the bar and I can’t help but run my mouth. So I’m thinking, “Oh shit, the attention isn’t on me…. How can I get it back??? … OK say something, claw her in….”

The attention comes back for a bit, but something about it is dodgy. I glance over at Alex and while these girls are doing their silly shit, he’s just chilling against the bar. He’s looking around the club, not really focussed on anything. Like a smack to the face I realise “durr, I’m already attractive, she’ll come back”.

Back in chill mode, both girls are up in our grill again.

That’s it. You already have everything you need to be attractive. Just chill, stop [b]trying[/b] to be attractive.

As much as I thought I wasn’t trying, the mindset was all fucked up. The girl was still “above” me. Wrong.

I think Alex’s articles are ganna make so much more sense now. Just gotta find some time to read the monsters that they are.

Again.

Stop trying so hard. Trust that you are attractive.

In a few weeks I’m off to Europe so it may stay like this for a while, but at least there will be plenty of shit to report about

—————

It’s all part of the journey

I hadn’t even realised until now. Looking back over the past few weeks, they have been a rollercoaster of crazy nights, coitus sessions and some of the most intense fun I have had, ever. Welcome to the life.

I was appraoching what we had deemed in my social circle to be a level 4 drought (3 months), and by fuck did it have me feeling down. I mean how does a dude who has spent so much time working towards something, striving to become a better bloke and strip away everything that holds him back, go almost three months without a girl. It’s hard to stay positive in times like this, but doing so is the shit that makes you stronger. Positivity during the shit times.

Progress always comes in bursts. Everything will be going great for a while, then you have a plateau and nothing seems to improve. You may even regress, but sticking with it is the most crucial thing, because plateaus will always end with a little perseverance. Plus, there’s nothing like an extended dry spell to brutalise any pimp ego you may have had.

For those who don’t know, pimp ego is the mindset you can find yourself in after a big bout of success, identifing yourself as “one who is good with girls”. This leads you to make conscious and subconscious decisions in the aid of protecting said ego. For example “I didn’t pick up tonight because I only approached 1 girl”. Without that pimp ego, you wouldn’t give a fuck about getting blown out, and would have approached like a machine. It also has the potential to turn you into a full dickhead in your interactions, as your communication and behaviour is filtered through the layer of ego you have built up. I digress.

As I was saying, the plateaus and regressions seem to be what build you as an indivdual operating through self esteem. I was watching Vanilla Sky recently, and now have a new quote to add to my list

“Without the bitter baby, the sweet ain’t as sweet”

Without the shit times, the regressions and the times when nothing goes right, the glory times just would not seem as amazing. The following few weeks are what I would defintely call the glory times.

————–

The weekend in the report “Alcoholism, gallipoli and unintersting drought breakers” was a huge turning point. The Thursday prior, I had met a cool girl, had epic hook ups and an alleyway finger bang with plans to meet up in the future. Saturday night saw a shit ton of some of the hardest blowouts to date. There’s nothing like getting slammed by a bunch of drug fuelled party sluts to deliver a royal ass fucking to any remnants of ego remaining after the two and three-quarter month dry spell. Sunday, I finally broke the drought. Despite it being a dud-root, as least the chode part of my ego had been satisfied. I was no longer a bloke who hadn’t been laid in ages.

Week One – The Rise

Something had tripped in my mind. It was time to make shit happen, get this handled. No more hiding behind any ego. It was time to get say what I want, when I want, 100% authenticity and risk having the real me blown the fuck out. I spend the week dedicating the different nights to sticking points. I start clawing again. I start telling girls they are straight up fucking adorable again. I focuss on slowing down, and being <b>loud</b>. While I had no results, I was already feeling a <b>lot</b> better. The weekend was capped off off by an epic sexual text exchange between alley girl and I. The result? A date for Monday.

Week Two – The Explosion

The date started fucking terribly. It was a long drive from her place back into the city and I had to continually cut threads and change topics to find some common ground we could talk about freely. It turned out this girl had a ridiculous amount of shit in common with me. She was a female version of me minus 3.5 years. Oh, plus she’s hot.

We end up on a terribly cliche ferris wheel overlooking the city and resort to McDonalds because everything else is closed. It didn’t matter, cause it ended in glory with Ace Ventura playing in the background.

Unfortunately, AlleyGirl had to leave the country that Friday, and it eventuated that we could not meet up again before she left. Sad.

That Thursday night is the report “Persistence and Turning your night around”. A night that started out incredibly shitty was turned around by forcefully pushing through comfort zones. Great times were had, and the number of an incredibly hot American girl was pulled.

The following night, American begins texting me. They start out as “what are you doing tonight” and slowly de(up?)grade to “i’m drunk and horny, come find me!”. At the time I was standing around with some lair guys, so the decision of what to do wasn’t all that difficult. When I find her, my eyes are blown out of their sockets. By fuck is she glorious. She’s in a tight electric blue dress (my absolute favourite colour) with no bra that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. And her voice is so fucking sweet. We alternate between chats and makeouts in Chinatown, and just when she “really has to go find her friends”, I take her into a random back room where the door just happened to be ajar and set to work. Shortly thereafter we are interrupted by a googly eyed security guard. Alas, no glory for me that night.

Saturday night stands as one of the biggest nights of my life. Drinking starts at midday, with attendance to various parties, a footy match, and a pub packed to the hilt with law students. I take it on as my duty to relieve said law buddies of their standard uptightness. I waltz up to the bar, make two nearby girls my temporary girlfriends and convince the bartendress that I deserve more then the maximum two drinks at a time due to my superiority and ninja like greatness.

I bounce between the bar and my table several times until I have built up a sufficient horde of alcomohol for the night.

This is where my night goes blank for the next 3 to 4 hours. Complete level 5 memory loss. Here is a summary of what I did over the next few hours in the order I found out, and the source of that information.

• Met a whole lot of girls, sharing my sombrero around (which I still had from the mexican party). Source: My camera. How I didn’t lose the thing is beyond me.
• Took numbers and facebooks of at least five girls. Source: My phone.
• Called Kimball and flipped the fuck out. Told him that I wanted to cry because I had made out with girls and couldn’t remember who, had lost my friends and didn’t know where the fuck I was. Source: Kimball.
• Told at least 4 girls they were my temporary girlfriend. Source: My housemate.
• Spent a whole hour chatting to (hitting on) one of my good mates girlfriends and her best friend: Source: My good mate.
• Made out with a girl within 5 minutes, took her into a back room and wallslammed her, and got kicked out by some random member of staff. Source: The same girl, 2 weeks later.
• Made out with a friend of a friend. Source: The friend, while trying to set us up.

As told by Kimball, eventually he found me and we walked to our final destination for the night. We stopped over at another bar, stole some shit and hit on promo girls on the way. All of which have been deleted from my memory courtesy of mister Smirnhoff.

The night starts to come back into focus once we are inside the next venue. This is probably due to the fact that any more alcohol would have probably killed me, hence started drinking water. A lot of alcohol seems to provide the illusion of teleportation. Awesome. We chat to some girls, meet up with Alexander~ of RSD and break some things. Some bar skank gets angry at me for repeatedly leaning over the bar taking ice, limes, straws and whatever else looked like it would fit down a girls top. Shoving shit down girls tops is definitely (not quite) my A game. Didn’t matter though, they loved it.

By now, American Girl is looking for me. We meet up, move into a corner for some make outs, introduce her to the boys, get some tequilla and high tail. People in the cab line are angry. I tell them to chill the fuck out. It’s hard to be negative when you have a glory girl on your arm.

At about 3am she calls a cab to head home. A while later my phone buzzes.

“Thanks for the fuck australia. Good night”

I love Americans.

On Sunday, I decide that the best way to go about repairing the destruction to my body which had been inflicted on Saturday is more beer. It’s me, Kimball, Alexander~, Red Leader and shift for chill times at the local. It doesn’t take long before “chill with the boys” is dogged for “beer and bitches”. Kimball’s already found a girl and is doing his thing, and I spend my night getting blown out a metric fuck ton, chatting to Alex, and watching him pull out a girls boobs at the bar while her hands are in his pants.

A girl who previously tried to cut me down appraoches me. I told her that her friend is a bitch and we chat about anal, lube and other assorted crap despite her 2.5 year boyfriend. Red Leader, Alex and I sit and chat with the friends, who are all up in our grill. The Pyro Abuse Cannon was out in force, but the girles ate it up.

Over come to bouncers to tell us to get the fuck out, due to closing time. We are all standing around out the front when I yell “AFFFTTEEERRRPARRRTYYY”, completely disregading the fact I have two sleeping housemates at home. The boyfriend girl starts whinging about not wanting to go back to a randoms house. I throw her over my shoulder and march down the street to the cab. You think she’d get angry? Her friends all crack the fuck up and and she latches onto me. Physical always wins.

An hour later, however, i decide against homewrecking even though it seemed so on. I think she sensed it too, as she freaked the fuck out after she almost pulled me into the bathroom. She calls her boy to pick her up.

So I get with her friend instead. After a whole half hour of sleep, I wake up snuggled with three girls, my car is covered in cheeseburgers, there are half empty beers everywhere, a girl sleeping on the patio and a passed out Alex on the couch.

Week Three – Bootcamp

Alex invites both Kimball and I to apply for instructor assistant positions with RSD. I am interviewed on Thursday and am told I have the job on Thursday, with bootcamp to start on Friday.

Holy shit.

You know those “A-Ha!” or “Ahhhhh” moments we all get from time to time in our journey to master the tactical insertion of penis? This weekend was not one of those. It was more of a fireworks display of neurons and cerebral matter cutting in random directions as they detached from most of what I thought I knew.

In other words, an Alexander~ bootcamp.

I may write up more on this weekend in the future.

Week Four and Five – Riding the Wave

Wednesday is a biannual wine and cheese night for a high achievers society. Here I am known for being the drunkest idiot every time, when I’m not even part of their silly club. I gots a reputation to uphold.

Hit on ubernerds. The only pretty ones had boyfriends.

Hit on ubernerds anyway.

Friday Night is the night of LR: Welshy.

Week Five is spent mostly in chill times with the boys. I am well and truly fucked from the last few weeks. We decide to make Friday a big one, though.

Manndingo, Kimball and I hit the hardest club in town. Bitches here will eat you alive for being born. Motivation levels are at their lowest, but we stick it out a little anyway. SportGirl, from Monday’s day2 ends up downstairs so I go say hi. We chat about dominance and guys who probably have vaginas. Makeout times. We make plans to meet up later as I “wanna hang out with my mates for a bit”. Cutting the story short, I text her at 3am and tell her to meet me. She calls and says shes on her way home but I am “welcome to come over”. Done. She gives me the address and I head over. It’s rare I get with a girl older then me, but I think I should do it more often. She’s only got just over a year on me at 23, but fucking hell she knew what she was doing. Good girl.

Saturday. I have never experienced such a burning desire for women. It was equivalent to my normal intent, times about 5. Then throw in some woo, a little less then my normal high energy style. If it was like this every night, all girls in a 10 foot radius would be in danger. I can’t really recount all of what happened, but many girls were approached, many dudes were befriended and an 18yr old girl was bounced around the club repeatedly between games of tonsil hockey.

These last 5-6 weeks have been the craziest yet. Almost every night is becoming an adventure. Monday night usually leaves me wondering… “I wonder what random shit I’m going to get up to this week”. Live a life of stories. This is what it’s all about. To think that a little over nine months ago I was hoping to reach double digits for the number of girls I had kissed. When I would worry about how much pain I was going to subject myself to by going out. When any story worthy adventures would be spaced out once every few weeks. When making a move on a girl was still a big deal.

—————–

It took the downtime to force me to really take a look at my situation and figure out what was wrong. As it turns out, alignment with your purpose really is as important as they say. Once that is in order, other things, including girls, just happen.

This community CAN NOT be just about girls. Getting laid isn’t going to fill any voids, as much as you think it will. I sure as fuck thought it would. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Cherish the bad times and get the rest of your life in order.

HB, NC, KC, FC, IOI, FTC, SOI, MPB…. What the fuck.

To be honest I got sucked into using them for a while there. Then I realised it was incredibly lame and nerdy. From now on, the prefix HB will be replaced with the suffix Girl.

Some more examples:

I number closed!

No, you “got a girls number”. Or maybe “got dat biznitches digits yo”. I don’t fucking care, but you did not number close. Please!

Yay, I got a kiss close

Oh do you realise how fucking LAME that sounds. You sucked face, macked on, played tonsil hockey, had a tongue down or tried to find out what she had for dinner.

I opened a set of HB’s

Cool, and I’m about to rip your head off and shit down your neck. You mean you talked to some girls, right? Awesome.

I full/fuck closed

Isn’t “fuck” suffice? Why add the stupid word closed onto the end. Do you realise how many better terms there are for this you scene nerd?

Some examples:

I had intercourse.

I planted my seed.

I played hide the sausage.

I wrecked that bitch.

I dipped my pork sword in her vertical bacon sandwich.

I did gagoogidy that girl. I gashmoygadied her gaflavity with my googus.

For fucks sake there was an entire song written on alternatives: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fT45EhTIxqU

I opened with a FTC and ran a DHV. After the hook I delivered an open loop to the group, bodyrocked and showed active disinterest by negging the target. I saw three IOI’s in the first 2 minutes so I dropped a couple of SOI’s. She IODed a little so I push-pulled, ran a compliance test and had her jump through some mini hoops. Some chode came in so I AMOGed him and he started whining, DLVing himself. The target was HSE so I qualified her and initiated kino. She went DDB so I number closed and used a kiss gambit. I isolated and created a time bridge by bouncing to a comfort location. Eventually I took her back to the seduction location and she gave LMR so I froze her out until she let me full close.

Die

Peace

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.

As a man, a lot of things are expected from you. Being born a male means you have to do most things to push the interaction forward.

You will summon the courage to start the conversation. You might have to plow through an initial crappy reaction. You have to direct the conversation where you want it to go, you have to get physical with her, you have to work out the logistics and you have to get her naked. There’s always some counter examples, but this is how it is for the most part. There might that fear of rejection holding you back from doing all of this. Maybe you think you’re doing everything right, but the girl just won’t bite.

There’s some serious work involved when you first get into this. Taking the hits, gradually desensitising yourself to rejection, building the confidence to escalate, asking for the number, arranging meet ups etc etc. Some of the time your results will definitely not reflect the amount of effort you put in to bettering yourself, and it might get you really pissed off.

You’re ganna get tired and worn out. You’re ganna get angry. You’re ganna get sad. You’re ganna be ecstatic. You might even want to go postal. Perservering despite all these setbacks will slowly mould your identity into that of a sexworthy guy. Keep at it, mo fo’s. Like Dory from Finding Nemo said, just keep swimming.

Now a couple of random stories:

Rude Blow Outs

I was recently out with a friend, who knows about the community but isn’t an avid follower. He still has the courage to approach when he’s got some beers under his belt. After spending an hour with a couple of girls, he found out they were married. He probably had a good time with them but suddenly it didn’t matter. He got pissed off, swore and left them without saying goodbye. Then he started approaching on the street. The last set he approached, he hadn’t even opened his mouth before the girl told him to “keep fucking walking”. Completely blown away by their rudeness, he lost it. Intense frustration.

I told him that it happens. you gotta take rejection sometimes, and it’s big deal. Yeah, it was still damn rude of them though. His approach probably wreaked of desperation after the rest of the events that night. It probably came off as some drunk guy looking to get laid. In that case they have every right to be rude, since they are only reciprocating.

It’s easy to get frustrated. I realised that I get damn frustrated with women A LOT. Like, when you are getting on really well with a girl over phone and text and then suddenly she stops replying altogether. Completely out of the blue when seemingly nothing has changed. Once again, it happens. Girls do this shit, and can get away with it because they have so many options, because they are pretty. There’s no point getting angry, cause it’s just the way it is. Eventually though, if you tough this shit out for long enough, they’ll be the ones begging to be with you.

Funny Message

My housemate got this message last night. You should know that my housemate is male, and his name is definitely not Jenny. (Names have been changed)

“hey Jenny its john (tall guy with brown hair that u saw in the *deleted*) here is my number just in case you change your mind. Xoxo john”

my friend replied
“wrong number buddy, better luck next time”

I thought it was funny. Poor guy.

Later that night you bump into a girl and give her a bit of shit for it. You talk a nonsense for a couple of minutes then quickly take her number, saving it as “Crazy bitch I met at club X”, before getting back to your friends. Lets call her, you guessed it, girl2.

Maybe you call them the next day, maybe two days after or maybe you follow the oh-so-lame rule of 3 days. You might start with a silly little text with something funny that happened to you at work or during the weekend (At least you didn’t say “Hey what’s up, it’s Bob. We met on Saturday at club X”, basically ensuring that she flakes on you).

After a text to girl1 goes unanswered, you call her the next day. There’s no answer. You might try one more time the day after, leaving a short, non-chodelike voicemail message. No dice. Absolutely zero contact back from girl1.

You text girl2 and she is all over you. After a couple of messages you call her up that afternoon and organise a date (or day2, whatever you wanna call it). She sounds all excited, and still is when she shows up at your place. You never make it on the date, cause you can’t keep each others hands off each other and end up rhythmically banging the bed head against the wall, to the dismay of your poor housemate. You might even end up repeating this little cycle for a few months.

What the fuck happened here? Maybe girl1 gave you a fake number. Perhaps she doesn’t remember you because she was a bit drunk. Maybe she doesn’t remember you just because they just do that sometimes. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you. Girl2 could have been completely mesmorised by your two minute interaction, or maybe she was just down to fuck. Either way, this is the club numbers game. Club numbers can be pretty unreliable. Personally I am getting a little sick of it.

It’s all part of the process, so you may as well just keep on chugging. Some guys I know have given up on club numbers. Both for this reason, and because sometimes once they have the number, they eject from the set instead of pushing on to the close. I think that even though I’m getting the shits with flakes, it still gives me the opportunity to practice phone game, which is something you will need in the long run. Unless of course all you ever want is same night lays. Restricting yourself from taking numbers will most likely encourage you to push each set further, as you don’t have your little trophy to take away. You are going to want something more – the make out or lay.

On bootcamp I was told that you should get numbers early, so that way the girl is talking to you as a ‘guy who has her number’, not some random. I might still do this, but I’m probably only going to bother calling the girls I at least make out with, for the time being. For some reason lately, I have not taken numbers from any of the girls I made out with, yet have taken numbers of lots of girls I haven’t made out with. Cue self-kick to the head.

Play phone game whichever way you want. Just don’t go getting all sad when some girl, however amazing, doesn’t call you back, cause it’s bound to happen. On the other end of the scale, some meangingless number you took could go all the way. Some recommend taking out a cap plan and at least trying to follow up on all numbers. You have nothing to lose, so you may as well. See what works for you.

—————————

Lately I have noticed some pretty large and probably unhealthy emotional ups and downs that I have been going through. I’d like to think I am not outcome dependent, but there is a distinct correlation between how many good sets I did the night before or how much I am getting laid, and my mood.

God, a year ago I would have killed to be in the position I am in now. Now that I have seen the possibilities of my potential within this community, I find myself always wanting more. I can go out, have a shit load of fun and get, for example, one number, I’ll be happy as fuck the next day cause last night was wicked, and the number flakes.

State crash.

I’ll think “Oh it’s all good, the next one might not be the same”, and simultaneously “what the fuck did I do wrong this time, why doesn’t this one like me?”

Then there’s a little battle for a while before I either come out content or pretty low. Most of the time I can just sleep it off overnight and I feel fine or even awesome the next day. Maybe that high will last for a few days, I’ll send out some messages, facebook some girlies etc etc. Responses might come back. All is well and good, until the excitement dies off or responses don’t go the way I want them to.

Progressive state crash.

Then I’ll go out again, have a crazy night and maybe make out with a couple of girls, get some numbers and rip the city a new arsehole. I’ll be all validated, write about it (for the forum and to refer back to on down times) and be happy.

Start the cycle from the beginning.

—————

This is happening at a bare minimum of once a week. MINIMUM. Sometimes this cycle occurs 2-3 times per week, depending on how much I go out and what else I’m getting up to. This can’t be fucking healthy. This shit makes people bipolar.

I noticed that today I read my bootcamp report for the third time as a reminder of what I am capable of. Bootcamp was only ONE WEEK ago. Jesus.

I realise now that although it might pump me up a little, it is probably serving to promote that silly pimp image, which I then think I have to live up to. When this doesn’t happen, bet your ass there will be a state crash.

———————
Why is this happening?

I have realised than since I have been going out regularly and trying to get this handled so quickly, everything else has fallen off the cards.

Life now consists of work, gym, going out and recovering from the lack of sleep between going out and going to work. I barely even have time or the drive to play the guitar sitting a couple of meters away from me, which I loved prior to this.

My passions? I couldn’t even tell you. I like hooking up with girls. I like feeling good. I like self development. (Two things I do love are travelling and snowboarding, both which can only happen once or twice a year)

Even ‘feeling good’ is happening less and less. I used to walk around constantly happy, but I feel this roller coaster is KILLING ME.

I think that the more I get into this, the more things I enjoy are falling away, resulting in more outcome dependence, causing huge state fluctuations and a LOT more negativity from my part. Disturbing trend.

—– END OF ORIGINAL POST —–

Conclusion from Replies

By Red Leader

Ego feeding cycle.

Your ego eats, then once it runs out of fuel, you get hungry and have to fill it back up with validation and elation….

Imagine taking out that WHOLE first section in your post and crossing a big line through it….

staring at it blankly…. stillness, thoughtless and peace….

that’s all it takes to rid yourself of these ups and downs.

and all these ups are 100% artificial anyway. It’s just the false sense of fulfillment your ego gets with validation.

By Leiv

Being a pimp has become part of your egostructure.

This leads to outcome dependence. You need ongoing results to keep your egostructure from falling apart.

Back when I was a chode I used to play Counterstrike a lot. In the beginning I enjoyed playing it. This ended when I became good. Being a good player became a big part of my egostructure. When I sucked I would become very agitated.

It felt like my identity was in danger. How stupid.

Also I did not have a lot of other things going for me in my life. This made being good even more important to keep my little identity validated.

This proces is very addictive. You need to play good to feel good. This causes anxiety because YOU CAN NOT CONTROL THE GAME.

I don’t think much more needs to be explained. Pick up can be incredibly addictive. So much so that I managed to drop everything else in the hope of mastery in this area. This is the absolute best way to make your identity that of a ‘pick up artist’, which is a terrible place to be. Nothing could make you as outcome dependent as this. Outcome dependence is one of the most unattractive qualities you can have to a woman. While I think it is OK to go all out at this for a few months, like I have, there reaches a point where you really need other things to fall back on, something else to look forward to outside of pick up.

Time to get to work on finding some new hobbies

————————————————

Forewarning: This is going to be pretty big. Change to a comfortable chair and get some popcorn.

This is for both my record and a reference for those unsure about taking a bootcamp, so everything will be covered.

Gold Coast Bootcamp, 16-18 May, 2008.

It’s Monday morning and I don’t know if I’m hurting from this head cold or from a weekend of identity battering realisations and reality shattering events.

get it in ya’

——————
Background

Bootcamp was my one year anniversary of introduction to the community. The first 10 or so months were spent dabbling around in various material and applying some attitudes and random lines here and there to predominantly social circle interactions.

The next two months got serious after I met a dedicated wing, going out night after night, making approach after approach. Some nights would flow perfectly and some would royally suck. I got some success, but by fuck was it inconsistent. Something always didn’t feel right. Sometimes I felt like I was putting it on. Sometimes I felt like I was convering something up.

Time for a change. Phase 2.

——————

Friday

In the days leading up to bootcamp, my state encountered a series of epic fluctuations between extreme nervousness and extreme excitedness. Nervous that I wouldn’t “blank slate” myself enough to be moulded my the instructors. Excited because of what the weekend could potentially do to me.

After some chilling on the beach with Storm and Jrad, reading the RSD manual and writing letters to our inner chode, I discovered our apartment had no hot water. Nothing like a cold shower and a red bull to pump you up.

We bus it to the Crowne Plaza. I’m practically running around in circles I’m so buzzed, so I plant my arse in a chair in an attempt to regain some composure, and wait. The other students show up. We span about 20 years, with a range of professions from salesman to engineer. All very cool guys, ready to get this shit handled.

Saad and Alex walk in, and we are quickly told to fucking committ, or get the hell out of there. We are given two chances to leave. Like hell was I moving. We are told to clean slate everything we know and put ourselves in the instructors hands, ready for some subconscious programming. Like every report I’ve read, you quickly realise how down to earth and normal these guys are. Just a couple of guys who decided they wanted something more out of life and comitted to this shit.

Letters to our inner chodes have soon been used for ass wiping, been spat on, pissed on and flushed.

Saad covers a fair bit of material, nothing entirely new, but sums it up in ways that are a shitload easier to understand then the mess of information you’ll find on an open forum.

Some of the stuff we covered:

• We are the coolest mother fuckers in our own realities
• The importance of masculinity in a society with blurred polarity
• The subjective nature of value (you can’t win all of them)

And then the 4 pillars of natural game, complete with a little dance:

1. Core confidence
2. Giving Value
3. Assertive Dominance
4. Unreactive

We cover the “number one rule of natural game” – Whatever you feel, they feel. This is big. As it turned out, this rule would be repeatedly hammered into my skull over the weekend when I lost soon after I felt myself enter a non-relaxed or awkward state.

After a creativity exercise, we head to the venue. Melbas.

Catwalk exercise. We take turns doing retarded struts in the dining area and then exaggerate them to look like complete fucktards in front of everyone in the place.

“I do not give a fuck what anyone thinks of me”.

Each instructor takes three students. I’m with Alex.

I go into set 1 with a opener given to me by Alex “I’m on youtube, I’m famous”

I hook and soon Alex has sent in Storm (another student) to wing and moves to the bar nearby to watch/hear us in action. Starting out improvising random BS, I sort of switch to direct, fail to isolate and quicky revert to verbal diarrhea.

Insta feedback from Alex is that I keep saying things that I think I am supposed to, rather than just say whatever the fuck I want. This way I burn out quickly. Expression not impression.

I introduce myself to some sets on stools and just sit at their table and vibe. Travel, funny stories, passions. I am unreactive to some of their bullshit, and give them shit when they deserve it (unreactive not unresponsive). I am told that “I’m such a cool guy” repeatedly by a couple of hotties. Meanwhile I’m just talking about random stuff I had done like sitting on the beach and having cold showers. Mindfuck.

All goes well until I bust out some silly gamer type bullshit, or try to fill in gaps in the coversation with inauthentic crap. I start feeling awkward…. “shit I have to keep these girls around, how?”

Whatever you feel, they feel. Sets lost. Lessons learned.

Alex makes the point that I should be going for the number 5-6 minutes into set. That way, the girl is talking to you as a guy who has her number, as opposed to some random fool. Good advice.

I’m sent into a five set of girls, and told to pay specifically more attention to one. After some vibing and storytelling, all of her friends disappear. She “has to go to the dancefloor”. Claw is engaged, she isn’t going anywhere. I get the number and make out. Call her HBCurly

Alex informs me to incorporate more push into my physicality, and gives some examples. He decides he is only going to throw me into the hottest from here on in. My heart enters my throat.

Some glitterbomb is very unreceptive to my verbals, and dances around almost as if I’m not there. Alex yells at me to get physical and I am litterally pulling this girl in and throwing her around with no protest. I get denied the makeout and eventually get the shits with her flightiness and eject.

Alex – “how did she react to the physical dominance?? she loved it”. Point made.

I get pounced on by a girl from a previous set so take her to the dance floor and makeout in front of the row of chodes who laughed at me when getting denied by an earlier girl. Alex tells me to go for the pull. I’m thinking fuck, what about the rest of my bootcamp. My watch tells me that I can lay this girl and get back before 2am.

I am confronted by a wannabe alpha chode who she apparently turned down earlier in the night. I am unreactive to his shit and walk off with the girl, who is now more attracted.

Back at her place, she gets all flighty, whinging about her drunk friend who she can’t find. She bullshits that she can’t have sex while her friend is out there somewhere. I talk illogical nonsense for a bit, but still no go. I give up and run back to the club to waste as little time as possible. I aint paying $2K to muck around with some crybaby.

Alex later tells me an illogical STORM of bullshit probably would have got her out of her head. Is there anything this guy doesn’t know?

HBCurly txts me so I find her and recommence makeout. Even though her friends fucking love me, I somehow eventually lose her.

Alex makes the point that my state has crashed since I wasn’t in the club for so long. Lucky it’s the end of the night.

We head back to the motel and debrief. The final debrief wrapped it all up and was so fucking detailed I can’t even begin to describe it. These guys are so ridiculously dedicated and unbelievably smart at this stuff. I’ll also note Alex and Saad went almost an hour overtime.

Our feedback is split into three major points each, mine being getting more physical, leading and self-entertainment.

It almost sonuds like a normal FR, but there’s a massive difference. You may notice that I mention Alex between EVERY set. That’s because in between, there he is to pump you up and give you small chunks of feedback which you use to calibrate between sets. The guys are even yelling at you while you are in set “ISOLATE”, “MAKE OUT”, “DANCE FLOOR!”, while juggling a handful of other guys.

——————

Saturday

We meet in the afternoon, and get some more feedback on the previous night. I’m a zombie after a night of approximately zero hours sleep. We get some fashion advice and head out for some daygame in two 4 person teams. Sets are scarce but we make do.

Seduction Saturday is all about getting physical. We go through some various kino techniques and practice the claw on other students. Alex ends up with a red patch on his forearm from claw practice. Yeah we were a little too strong at first.

We are told to use intent, sexual tension, maybe a plotline and heavy escalation, so long as the girl is not clearly uncomfortable.

We are told to use hyper focus to draw in the girl we want, creating the ‘bubble’ with her, giving little attention to everything outside of it.

Saad tells us we are not allowed to eject until we either isolate, get the number or makeout. Ouch

…

No warm-ups tonight. Straight into it. Assemble A-Team.

Same venue, downstairs is dead so we head up to the dance club area. I see Alex do a demo for the first time. Within 2 minutes he picks up this girl and spins and throws her around… relentless physical contact even though sometimes she pretends she isn’t into it. He gets the makeout.

I get thrown into a fuckload of sets. Friday had relatively low blowouts and a smaller number of long sets. Saturday had blowout after blowout after blowout usually due to highly uncalibrated physical escalation, being a pussy, or nearby boyfriends. This is the fucking pain night.

Alex makes me walk around the bar, making eye contact with every girl in the place chanting “My game is a 10″ in my head, and then go stare in the mirror for a good 15 seconds. Fuck you feel strong after this little exercise.

Blow out, boyfriend, told to leave, boyfriend, fiance, blow out. Argh! This venue is FULL of taken women and their partners. Alex sends me into a lone wolf, fucking hot. I can go direct on this one and really mean it, this is as authentic as it gets.

“Hey….. you are so fucking adorable …… I had to come and meet you……. I’m James”

She blushes and grins. After about 2 minutes of escalation she tells me her bf is at the bar. This chokes my escalation, but sure enuogh a couple of minutes later the bf arrives. I say hi, vibe for a minute and piss off. Gawddammit.

I’m having a lot of trouble talking shit to amuse myself in sets tonight. Alex points to a girl and commands me to talk nothing but shit. “I like squirrels”. It goes well and after 5 mins it turns to vibing, eventually she annoys me too much so I switch hyper focus to her friend, make out with her and eject. Self amusement wins out.

Alex and I position ourselves in the venus fly trap of desire, and I am told I have to do at least 5 approaches on my own before the end of the night. Clawing ensues. A random girl brushes against me and I do my most convicted claw of the night. She tries to run off but I lock her in and she melts. Twenty seconds later we are making out. She’s a shit kisser, I eject. Back to Alex, who shows me the photos he took. Haha

I open a nearby girl – “Whats a better job, lawyer or viking” – and remember to hyper focus. A minute in, the friends just leave, without me even acknowledging them. I get the digits and don’t get physical enough. She is visibly disappointed and leaves.

After more blowouts I tell Alex I need a slap cause I can barely keep my eyes open. No slap, just lime juice in the eye. Wooooo!

I open while limed, and once again get surrounded by boyfriends. Jesus fucking christ.

I do a half arsed bitch claw and Alex deals me some shit. “what’s this pussy shit!?”, while making an exaggerated impression of my lame attempt. He makes it quite clear I’m not going to do that again. That’s what these guys are there for

More blowouts, more fun. More Woooo!

Why cab it home when you can jump in the limo just outside. Fuck yeah.

Once again, the guys go almost an hour overtime on debrief.

I am told that I am stifling the masculinity in me, I am holding myself back.

What the fuck does it say on your licence?

(Male, if you didn’t know)

——————

Sunday

Extended feedback session. I need to cultivate my sense of entitlement. I fucking deserve these girls.

Insist and persist. Make it your fault. Masculinity.

• Drop the ego of getting good with girls
• I am scared of my own potential
• A sense of entitlement is crucial
• The only thing holding me back is me

Saad says he doesn’t think indirect is going to work for me. I’ve hated this indirect shit from the beginning. That’s the stuff that doesn’t feel right, which I mentioned at the beginning. It took hearing Saad say this to realise it.

These guys really know their shit. Countless times they told me things and I would think “ohhhh yeah…. that’s exactly what I’m like….. I can fix that”

Amazing.

We go do some more day game, and Saad gives us a proper break down on it and does a demo. I have a couple of cool sets, and one complete choke. I mean full on choke. Something I have never experienced before. I can hardly talk. Eject. Fucking painful.

I make a girl scream. Don’t use kino from behind on opening during the day. LOL

We wrap up the day with a session on phone/day2 game, and the guys give us all personalised day2 plans using venues in our local areas. Cool as.

Behind us is a kebab shop, with the slogan ‘get in in ya’.

Insta team name.

——————

Wrap Up

Natural Game

Expect a good reaction. You’re an attractive guy, twenty times rarer than any 9 or 10 girl.
Confidence.

Hyper focus. Intent. They need to know why you are there. Sexuality is valuable. Have fun and entertain yourself.
Give value.

To demonstrate masculinity, physicality is REQUIRED. Physical channels will ALWAYS override verbal channels. Have fun with it, set little challenges for yourself.
Assertive dominance.

You don’t give a fuck about energy changes in an interaction. They will test you to gauge how they are going to treat you. People only have as much power as you give them. You are a rock, solid as fuck. Is some silly girl being a bitch going to phase you? Fuck no.
Unreactive.

Friday I learned:
Drop the shit you think you need to say. Say what you want to say. Random funny shit, things you did in the last day/week/month, roleplay. Be social. Self entertain. Expression.

Saturday I learned:
Get physical. Pull them in. Small touches here and there with the occasional dominant explosion e.g. claw, pick them up and spin them. Move them around (LEAD). Isolate. Make it YOUR fault. Do it because it’s fun, not because you have to.

Integrate these two, and its all over red rover. Maintain the 4 pillars of natural game, and there’s no stopping you.

Give yourself permission to do this

There was so much more I learned over the course of the weekend, but I can’t articulate it yet. I’m still coming to terms with a few things and hopefully will figure some of it out in my next few nights out.
Thanks Alex and Saad, your dedication definitely did not go unnoticed.