My new podcast is up, where I interview an experienced nightgamer who I’ve been fine-tuning in daygame.
My new podcast is up, where I interview an experienced nightgamer who I’ve been fine-tuning in daygame.
I got my first lay of the trip a week in, on the Tuesday evening and I was flying home on the Thursday afternoon. As of Tuesday morning I didn’t know the notch was coming, so in my mind I was left with two evenings to try to get a lucky lady into my bed. I was still having trouble with flakes, likely a consequence of the town having been burned for a month straight. My strongest lead had agreed a Wednesday evening date but I didn’t want all my eggs in one basket on the last night [wisely, she cancelled at short notice]. What is the most basic advice for a player who is struggling to get results?
Open more sets.
That solves many problems right there. I wasn’t feeling particularly enthusiastic but my familiar determination to get something had resurfaced so I hit the streets on Tuesday afternoon, shortly after lunch (and before I got the first lay). It was roasting hot, not many girls were out, but the clock was ticking and if I wanted to make things happen I had to just get on with it. To get myself up for it I watched a scene from a Private porno movie on Redtube where they do a fake SDL (Triple X magazine 11, the blonde Swedish bird, I think)
I did a few sets on the walk up towards the Slavia Square roundabout. I was sleepy, worn-out, feeling a bit of sunstroke so rather than force myself into a fake happy vibe I just recognised my state for what it was and matched my game to the same low energy. I was chill and laconic. Finally as I was crossing past Hotel Moskova and coming in to the plaza above Republic Square I got the familiar spider-sense. A leggy brunette was ambling past.
At first sight she seemed a typical Belgrade girl: long legs, dark hair, denium shorts, converse, tight vest. No reason to choose her over any other and no reason to expect a better result than any other, but my spider-sense had tingled. Why? I quickly realised it was her earrings – they were coloured feather like you’d see in a craft market rather than a high street store.
I’d found her “softener”
Girls of a slightly quirky or offbeat mentality will find a way to signal it. Often it’s a single item of clothing or accessory and it’s saying “I’m not just a standard mainstream girl”. Perhaps she has band patches on her bag, or a little metal badge. Perhaps it’s novelty socks. Perhaps she’s carrying an unusual book. Girls who are fully in the mainstream (and therefore probably trapped in the middle of The Herd) are usually head-to-toe mainstream. When I find a softener I know the girl is more likely to like my daygame, and I’m more likely to enjoy chatting to her.
So I stop this girl. She’s hot. My height, in athletic trim, and a pretty face. Twenty-two years old.
She likes it immediately, purring like a cat, and after a minute says “I’m going this way, to eat, do you want to join me?” I assent and we walk a few hundred metres to a pavement cafe. “I just ate so I’ll only have a drink. Since you’re eating, why don’t you choose” I tell her.
We sit under a canopy at the end of Knez Mihailova and I spread out into my chair and begin the idate game. It’s easy conversation and she’s not giving me any trouble. I find out she’s dating her teacher, a guy my age. That’s not the least bit surprising based on her earrings.
I know I’m under time pressure. I’ve got to either SDL her today, or get a date tomorrow. So I move things fast as we trade intrusive questions. Before she’s finished her food we’ve already gotten a lot done and I’ve told a few funny stories. The SDL evaporates when she says she’s meeting a friend up by Slavia Square in half an hour so we settle the check and I say “I’ll walk with you halfway, until I find an ice-cream kiosk” and away we go.
What to do? I have to gamble.
As I buy an ice lolly I tell her to come sit with me on a metal handrail and she comes over. I can see she’s not really wanting to leave, even though she has a pressing appointment. I decide to just Hail Mary the verbal escalation.
“Tell me the sexual thing you’ve never done, and maybe never will, but you think about it”
“Sex with two men” she replies.
“One at each end like this” I say, using gestures to describe a spit-roast. “Or one dick in your ass and the other in your pussy?”
“The second type” she says. This is less than an hour after we met. My energy is very chill and non-judgemental. I expound a little on sexual openess and then she takes her turn.
“How about you?”
“Well, this one is half-joke and half-real. At the moment it’s just a silly idea but I think I’ll probably do it some time. Next time I suddenly come into some cash, I want to rent the penthouse suite in a hotel, buy lots of cocaine and gin, and hire ten hookers. Then I’ll run amok all night until I have a heart attack and wake up in hospital.”
She likes that. Smiling, looking up and into the sky. There’s more sex talk about being dominated, how I like to fuck etc. I’m treating this as a preview for her, to give her an idea of what she’ll get so it’ll grow in her mind and perhaps make her horny tonight. Plant the seed and hope for the best.
We swap numbers and she wanders off to her friend. I’m strangely confident I’ll see her again, but time is running out. Later that evening I ping her on Whatsapp but she’s offline and doesn’t reply until lunchtime the next day. She says she doesn’t have mobile internet so SMS is better. See below.
At this point my 9pm second date with the LMR girl hadn’t been cancelled, so I’m trying to squeeze in my two last shots at glory into one evening. By the time I walk up to Republic Square at half six I’m drinking in the last chance saloon. She arrives ten minutes late, dressed nice in vest and short-shorts but not especially sexual. I’m not sure how to calibrate her. So we walk off to the moustache bar again.
It’s a good date. She’s not reciprocating any kino but she’s staying there and she’s fully participating in the conversation. She was to tell me later that she was deliberately holding back compliance to amuse herself with how hard I’d try and to see if I got desperate. Evidently I passed that test.
Walking into that bar I get some good luck. There’s an old carriage mounted on blocks and they’ve turned it into a snug little place to sit, so we climb aboard and sit next to each other. I do all the usual stuff – prodding her thighs, checking her calf muscles with my hands, playing with her hair and so on. She lets it happen but doesn’t reciprocate. We drink two beers each – a good sign.
Then I walk her along to Das Boot, a basement bar close to my apartment. I’d never been in before but I’m glad I went. It was empty and split into three linked rooms, so we could sit completely isolated while I drank whiskey and she sipped beer. As interesting as the conversation was, it was an ordeal because I was so focused on having to get it done tonight. About three hours in I start telling wild sex stories – lay reports, basically. Some of them are really squalid and funny, and all are wrapped up into lots of male commaraderie with my friends. She’s loving them. I figure I just have to present the extreme r-selection / travelling nomad vibe because she’s telling me she’s really into her boyfriend.
Finally I reach across the table, grab her chin, and kiss her.
She pretends to resist but I see the flush on her face and spark in her eyes. For the first time since we met I’m starting to think the lay is a very possible outcome. Finally I get her to sit next to me and lean in a bit, but there are still barriers. She’s weighing up the usual forebrain-hindbrain, ASD and value calculations. I can tell she’s loving the date and she says a few times she’s amazed how openly we can talk.
It feels precarious but by 11pm I have to pull the trigger. I tell her to drink up and I’ll show her my apartment. She does the usual “only for a minute” stuff and walks in with me. She has a smoke outside and any time I get close enough to kiss she wanders away. She’s thinking hard, trying to decide what to do. The boyfriend is a huge obstacle.
“I want to get some cigarettes and go home. Will you walk with me?” she says and I agree.
During the short walk to the kiosks by Studenski Square I’m getting that sinking feeling of the lay slipping through my fingers. I try hard to maintain an unaffected calm demeanour but inside I’m cursing my luck – two chances to get laid tonight have turned into zero. Time to gamble again.
Standard PUA advice is “don’t change her mind, change her mood”
Well, I’d changed her mood and her mind was still in the way. I decided to logic her into bed. So on the walk up I push the adventure sex frame harder, providing her all manner of rationalisations. She tells me, “meeting you has made me realise I love my boyfriend.”
That’s a tough one. How to respond?
“That’s good, that it’s helped clear your mind. You’ve found the guy you want and you can get married, have children, and have a good life. The thing is, your body is obviously crying out for one last adventure. It’s like trying to hold your breath underwater – you can use training and mental discipline to stay under longer, but biology forces you to come up for air eventually. You will fuck at least one more guy, your body demands it, the question is just who and when. You have unfinished business.
The way I see it, you’ve got a choice. You can wait a while until you can no longer control your urges, and you fuck a local Serbian guy. Probably he’ll try to make you into his girlfriend and when you say no, he might keep calling you, or post on your Facebook wall, or just make trouble for you so people find out. Alternatively, there’s me. I’m leaving the country tomorrow. I’m English, I don’t speak Serbian, and I have zero interest in making you my girlfriend. I’m looking for simple, exciting adventure. Nothing more.”
The whole time we’re slowly walking back towards my apartment while she puffs on her cigarette, her arms folded.
“You’re obviously saying that because you want to fuck me” she retorts. It’s just a test.
“Of course I want to fuck you. I’m just saying you can do it without any effect on the rest of your situation here.”
“I don’t know. It’s not easy for me” she replies and by now I’m turning my door key and we walk back into my apartment.
There’s nothing more I can do. Kissing her, touching her up, dirty talking and so on will just make her feel pressured. More logic will be brow-beating her with the same thing over and over. She’s a smart girl with a strong rebellious streak. I just have to let her make up her own mind.
After puffing through another cigarette in the garden she comes in and sits on the bed, then lies back staring at the ceiling, perplexed. Obvously she wants sex, she’s just bothered at the thought of cheating. I lie next to her but don’t touch. My vibe is light and carefree, smiling. She looks over at me, then at the ceiling, then at me.
“Okay. I’ll do it” she blurts out, “but no anal”
I mentally fist-pump. I kiss her and say “let’s relieve you of all these unnecessary clothes”
It’s great sex. She looks excellent naked and throws herself into it with wild abandon, like it really is her last adventure on earth. I smash her from pillar to post and enjoy every moment of it. I try anal anyway, but she refuses that. Finally after an hour I’m all in. We shower and dress then I walk her to catch the last bus home. Just before boarding I tell her, “I’m not going to hassle you, but we can stay in touch and if you’d like to see me again, just let me know.”
She gives me a big kiss, hops on the bus like a happy schoolgirl, and waves from the window as the bus pulls away. I walk home relieved, once more ruminating on how something as tiny as noticing one girl’s earrings can trigger a chain of events that turn a Euro Jaunt from “frustrating” to “awesome”
In my previous post I told the story of a Serbian girl who got LMR on my bed after a very fast pull from the first date. Late the next evening she dropped a big shit test on me, which I glossed over in my blogpost. Unsurprisingly, many readers want to know what happened. Given that everyone who posted so far has managed to give sub-par responses to her test, let’s look at what I did and why.
The disclaimer for my readers is this: You weren’t there, you didn’t get anywhere near as much information to base your calibration decision upon as I did. So, I’m not pointing and laughing at your advice. In different situations, that might work. Just not this one.
Ok, so before proceeding be sure to read the previous post to get the context of the shit test. Ready?
Why bounce her home fast?
ASDgamer suggests I should’ve gone to her friend’s party and ran some version of social circle game to increase my value. No. The KISS rule applies in game as much as anywhere else. The whole point of a date is to get the girl isolated, horny, and close to a sex location. I had all three of these boxes ticked. Going to the party would be a backwards step. It would involve all of the following likely consequences:
She suggested the party as a reflexive attempt to derail the train. She knew that she was horny and highly likely to have sex if we went to my apartment and therefore she instinctively triggered the “don’t get fucked” script and tried to derail. This had nothing at all to do with value. Value is one of the most misunderstood areas of game. She hooked on the street stop, played along in vibing, gave the number, replied enthusiastically in texts, came on the date dolled up, and made out with me. This is all confirmation that my value was just fine. Overconfirmation if anything. If you get that far with a girl and still think she’s doubting your value, you need to re-read Mystery Method. Value only matters in getting attraction, and I had plenty of that. By the time she started derailing, it was more of a comfort issue.
She had LMR because it was too much, too fast. As simple as that. So, let’s look at the next day when she drops the shit test on me. I’ll take the reader responses in order and comment, beginning with our intrepid ASDgamer again.
““Life is a beautiful tapestry…Que sera, sera.” Hamster wonders, “What does he mean? He seems very sure of himself. In control.” Builds value.
“The weatherman is predicting a storm of passion tomorrow night…but what does he know” Hamster wonders, “Is he into me?” Provokes her to chase.
Create a fantasy for her hamster to chew on.
The first reply is channeling the right kind of vibe, which is to distract and disorient. This is based on the idea that she’s not really serious with her test, she just wants to throw it out as plausible deniability so she can say to herself “at least I tried to avoid sex. He just kept going, so I couldn’t help fucking him.” I actually took that tack myself in my initial response, as you’ll see later.
The second reply is wrong. it’s far too aggressive and overtly sexual. Her shit test is based on her emotion of “too much, too fast. I don’t want to be obligated to sex” and therefore sending her a text with basically means “tomorrow will be sex” is giving her the ripcord she needs to avoid me entirely. Bad move.
So let’s consider Aunt Jemina
“You just need to say something quite basic which shows that what she said hasn’t really affected you, and also that you’re not putting too much pressure on her.
Example: “Let’s just see how it goes”
Or flip the script: “Pfft. Presumptuous. Let’s meet at X tomorrow at 8.”
The first one is too hopeful and needy. The subcommunication is defensive, accepting that she gets to make the rules because you don’t want to risk rocking the boat. It could work, but it just doesn’t feel right to me. It would be an okay fall-back text if you rack your mind and can’t think of something better.
The second one is similar – could work, but doesn’t feel right. This time it’s too bullying and lacking soft dominance. It’s forcing her into an ultimatum and subcommunicating that you’re someone who will just trampled over any objections. I don’t need anymore hard dominance because I already did a one-hour pull. Her worry is about being obligated to sex if she shows up on the date, because she’s still nervous and wants to retain the “out” to show up but not have sex. Re-read her initial objection: she knows what I want but doesn’t want to commit herself and then get into an awkward date where I get all arsey with her if she says no.
Now we’ll go to ARC
“I would have to agree that it would be pointless. Anytime I meet up with a woman who I have a sexual interest in for a drink I’m looking for one of two things. I either want to fuck her or have her suck my dick. Now if you have no interest in reciprocating my sexual desires then I appreciate you not being a time-waster. However, if there is some attraction on your part which you are willing to acknowledge then I’m sure I can get your pussy wet by whispering in your ear statements like ‘I’d just like to find the nearest motel room so I can bend you over and slowly slide my nice juicy dick in your tight wet pussy’”
This has numerous problems. It’ll work okay within the context of ARC’s overall method, which is mostly overtly filtering for DTF girls [there’s more to it than that, but that’s the relevant bit here]. Within the context of the pick-up that I actually did, here’s where it goes wrong:
Sometimes a girl is super-on and you can tip her over the edge with an ultimatum or by amping up her horniness, but I generally avoid that. You quickly end up losing all the strong maybe girls and all you’re left with is the Yes Girls. If you’re willing to squander potential lays in order to save being messed about, that’ll work. I prefer to work the Maybes and risk the time-wasting.
Lastly, let’s hear Walawala’s take
I’d use the line I always use when I get those types or responses and learned from K: “Behave…what makes you think I’d want to…you’d have to wine and dine me, the we’ll see”… That usually diffuses that tension.
This one is overplaying a mediocre hand. She knows full well that I want to fuck her. I picked her up, I pulled her home, I rammed two fingers up her pussy, and I got my dick out. To then say “you’d have to wine and dine me” – even as a joke – is just unconvincing. There is no flipping of the script this late into a pull. The only way the script can be flipped here is if I’m prepared to roll off for several days to give her a fear of loss (which I didn’t have time for) and even then it’s highly improbable.
So to summarise, the tendency in the replies is to be too gamey and evasive, or too overt. Let’s look at what I actually did and why.
Step one was to just brush past the objection on the assumption that’s she’s not serious about it, similar to ASDgamer’s first response. So I just tell her I’m not perverted and then redirect. She seems to accept it so I just finish with a joke, expecting that to be the end of it. This turns out to have been the wrong play – she’s more serious than I thought and I’ve overplayed my hand a little.
Now things get tangled up because she misunderstands me. Usually I’d say it’s good to be “real” long enough to let her know it’s not all jokes, and that I understand her main worry is in being forced to promise too much. I think it was the right play and I got unlucky with her misunderstanding.
So that forces me to stay logical and serious longer than I’d like, to shuttle her to the end of her little wobble and then I return to playfulness as soon as I think it’s possible. That works and it ends well.
So what you’re really seeing here is I overplayed my hand a bit, created a stir, then got a bit unlucky when trying to calm down the stir, but ultimately recovered it. Not the smoothest, but it worked. So now she’s in a holding pattern on long game and my next trip to Belgrade will provide the ultimate answer.
I’m almost a week into my trip and I’ve found myself doing some impromptu winging with the students Street Attraction brought here. It’s informal, but I can’t help doing a little coaching. So we’re standing by an ice cream kiosk cooling ourselves down with ice lollies. It’s about 5pm and the temperature has finally dipped enough for the girls to venture outside.
The students are really excited. They’re into the fourth week of their Yugoslavia daygame immersion and they’ve all been laid once each, earlier in the trip. Who could blame them? So there’s a little huddle around me while a lick my pineapple lolly and I start talking about pre-open calibration.
It’s good daygame to build a quick mythology about a girl before you open her. You scan the streets for the girls you like and when your eyes rest on one, you immediately pick out what made you notice her and use that to build a little mini-story about her [my Black Book seminar will go into way more detail on how to do it]. You might only get as far as a quick label (“Slow dreamy short-shorts” or “Busy office girl”) but the important thing is it gives you something. Once in set you can expand it into some verbal bamboozlement.
You’ll also find over time that some girls are more interested in you than others, and you can detect patterns. For example, fashionable girls adorned in many brand names (Prada, YSL, Jimmy Choo etc) rarely like me. I’ve fucked a few but normaly they aren’t interested. Conversely, slightly quirky girls usually do like me. More generally in daygame, slow wandering girls open easier than determined fast-walking girls.
So, as you begin to identify patterns you can narrow-down your potential opens to focus on the higher-probability targets. I advise you don’t take it too far and start weaseling girls just because they are low-probability. Even the 100/1 shot comes in from time to time. Standing in our huddle with the ice lollies I start throwing out example mythologies for the girls walking past – “She’s dressed like a bar code. I wonder if everything beeps when she goes into a supermarket” – “She looks like she’s sneaking away from the scene of a crime. Probably a shopaholic” etc.
“This girl looks like she’ll probably be into me” I announce and chase a red-head across the square. Unsurprisingly, she cracks wide open. I just knew she would. Felt it in my bones.
I’m teasing everything and she’s throwing it back at me, thoroughly enjoying it. I feel the familiar electricity and sparkle. It feels on. I don’t remember much of the set, just that I was in the moment, bobbing and weaving, having a lot of fun while a couple of the students watched. Then I took a number and sent her on her way. The next day the texting is solid. From her very first reply I know it’ll be good. Witness some really easy text game [Daygame Mastery readers will spot all of my gambits]
So I meet her at the horse and I’m greatly pleased to find she’s hotter than I remembered. My approach had been when she had no make-up and was coming home from the gym. Now she was dolled up and looked fantastic. God bless daygame – girls are frequently hotter than you first thought. So I start walking her down to the moustache bar, feeling optimistic.
We sit outside because I don’t want to sweat in the upstairs room like I did the previous night. It’s just so on immediately. Her eyes are sparkling, she’s talking a lot and the kino is effortless. She’s soon sitting next to me telling me “I don’t want a boyfriend. Serbian guys are always trying to lock me down. I think I just want fun now, so I can be free to focus on my language study”.
Ker-ching! I’m ticking all the boxes quickly.
So I give her my speech about society being too restrictive for girls, and too many people watching, and how London is so great because it’s anonymous. And hey, this just occured to me, but isn’t it interesting that nobody even knows we met? It’s like everything we say and do is one big secret…… I make out with her within half an hour. She’s obviously horny and ready to go so after the first drink I’m thinking only about how to extract. She says her friends are having a party a ten minute’s walk away and why don’t we go there. I quickly future-project how that will go:
Fuck that. I have to make a call, try the best percentage play. She’s 100m from my house, horny, and in my frame. So I tell her “we can go there later, let’s hang out at my place for a drink first”. I finish off the rest of her beer and stand her up. She follows. Less than hour into the date I’m walking her home. I do move fast these days – too fast. I feel like the dates are just running down the clock waiting for extraction rather than an enjoyable experience to be lived and breathed in the moment.
She comes into my place without a quibble but once inside she gets a little nervous and starts babbling about the friend’s party. I show her out to the back garden and leave her staring at the stars while I have a piss. I let her relax for quarter of an hour and bring her inside onto the bed. At this point it’s looking good but I sense some awkwardness in her. We make out. I push her back onto the bed and then….. familiar LMR.
She clearly wants to fuck, but just won’t. Grrrrrrrr.
I try my usual things and before long I’m fingering her through the sides of her hot pants, two fingers rammed into her. She’s clutching my back, moaning, and shaking her head. “No, not tonight!” I keep it going, get my dick out, and I just know she’s at the edge of the cliff, about to take that final step off into the abyss.
And she suddenly pulls back. The shutters slam down and I know the lay is gone for tonight. We chat a bit and she wants to go for a walk. Ten minutes of that and I tell her to enjoy the party and let’s meet another day.
The next evening, on the same day I get my first notch (see previous diary entry), I’m back at my apartment with one of the students because he’s kept his luggage there before a late-night flight. My phone buzzes. It’s this girl again asking what I’m doing right now. Oh lord, will this be another of those magical
two-girls-one-cup two-notches-one-day experiences? We swap a few texts and then she throws a big shit test: “Wouldn’t it be pointless meeting up for a drink, tomorrow night, if you want to get laid and I don’t?”
Damn, that’s a tough one!
I deal with it and she’s softening again. “I can’t be sure. I don’t know you…. Don’t forget we met just few days ago” Okay, she’s future-projecting her own ASD. I pour in the comfort and she agrees to meet the next evening – my last night in Belgrade. Great, I’ll get my second lay. It’ll be a can’t miss because she’s already externalised her LMR and let me dismiss it by text. Game on.
And then at 3pm on the day of glory…. “Niiiick :/ Something came up for tonight. I have to pick up my little brother from his grandma. There’s no one else to babisitt him. I’m sooorry :( “
Fuck. Fortunately while this girl was relegated to long game, I’d still get a new notch that night. To be continued…..
… always talk about Euro Jaunt Club.
My life in 2015 has settled into a familiar pattern. I hide out in Newcastle in winter, trying to get some work done, see my friends, and recuperate in preparation for the new season of travel. Then round about mid-March I begin to slot in little two-week trips to Europe to chase girls, with short breaks back in Newcastle between each one.
It’s working out well but like any big change, it brings challenges. By way of comparison, I spent 2012/13 living with the Rock Solid Game guys in London and splitting my game between the familiar haunts of London and short trips abroad. That was a lifestyle that had a solid “base” and a tight-knit group of friends seeing each other every day. By early 2014 it had broken up so I spent most of that year on the road, a month at a time in each destination travelling with mostly the same guys. That was a new flavour again, like being a nomad with a tiny travelling gang. Both patterns were good, but both had challenges.
So 2015 is different again. Much more “off” time with the family in my hometown and the trips have been much shorter stays in any given city, rarely more than ten days. I’ve noticed a much more extreme contrast between my on and off times. While at home I barely think of women except when writing for the blog or my business. I’ll maintain a trickle of WhatsApp / Facebook with my regulars but most of the time my mind is on video games, detective novels and the gym. The first week of this is blissful and by the second week I get restless and start itching to Euro Jaunt. I don’t know if it’s worrying or liberating, but “normal life” only works for me in bite-size chunks. I can’t imagine a life without foreign adventure.
On the plus side having such complete “off” weeks really keeps me connected to reality and it’s where I’m most productive. Skirt-chasing saps all my focus for normal stuff.
I’ve noticed a real sense of time pressure on my 2015 trips that was completely absent from 2014. When you’ve got a month in one city and the dedication to keep grinding, lays start to pile up. Cutting your stay to ten days completely changes the game. Suddenly everything is pull-pull-pull. It’s been fun but my results suffered. Good stories, hot girls, but not as many as previous years.
However the biggest thing I missed towards the end of 2014 and into early 2015 was….. quality male companionship.
It wasn’t until the grand RSG experiment broke up that I realised just how special it was to live in a big old house with all your best mates. Hanging out, drinking, training and hitting on girls together. Three years of that was a very special time. In 2014 the travel-gang thing was good too but a bit too game-focused rather than fun-focused.
Solo euro jaunting is wearing. The first real time I felt this was – of all places – in Brazil. After three weeks of isolation in Sao Paulo and Rio (much of it due to language barriers) I was desperate to get back home. I’d go out every afternoon to sit on Copacabana or Ipanema beach, sip caiparinha and just…. hate it. Too isolated. Too emotionally cold.
Those readers who have recognised me in the street and said hello this year may have noticed I’ve been far more approachable than my blog would suggest. That’s not an accident. By the middle of last year I’d started to realise that Euro Jaunting has become a “thing”. It’s not just the province of the daygamers with public profiles, or my little group of friends. There are lots and lots of men giving it a try.
Sometimes I want to cave their heads in with a big stick, like in Belgrade recently. But that’s just me and my little pet peeves. Really, stepping back and looking at it dispassionately, there are a lot of good guys out there doing it. Living the dream. Sure it’s a tough road but they are putting their money where their mouth is and giving it a go.
So I’ve been meeting up with a bunch of them and trying to cherry-pick the ones I get on with who would make good regular travel companions. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Quality male companionship.
I’ve been really enjoying it. As much as I’ve been enjoying solo daygame this year I’ve found having a few cool buddies around massively blunts the sharp edges of Euro Jaunt weirdness. The type of Groundhog Day I complained of a few posts ago doesn’t hit so hard. The obsessive compulsion to grind the streets every day doesn’t get so vacuous.
So, Euro Jaunting is now a thing. We’ve created a monster. And I quite like it.
During my peak of high vibe on Thursday I’d taken eight numbers and begun filtering them, to see what stuck. The most enthusiastic lead was a short curvy hamster girl who’d told me she was on her way to meet her twin sister. When I asked for her number I got the usual “I have a boyfriend” defense which I just brushed past.
Generally, I try not to rate how strong a lead is during the street interaction. I’ve had too many cases where girls who love it on the street don’t reply, and the flip side of mundane interactions lead to solid texting and sex. Instead, I suspend any judgement until she replies to my first message. Her first response (or lack thereof) is the strongest signal of how likely she is to fuck.
This girl responded great and co-operated in the banter until a date was organised. She wasn’t the hottest girl that day but I like large-chested nineteen year olds even if their face is a little below my normal standards. We met at the big horse statue in Republic Square one evening and she walked her twin sister past me, no doubt to get an assessment.
The date went well but it was an uphill struggle. We start off in a corner bar, sitting outside in balmy summer weather. She’s pretty dominant and keeps trying to lead the conversation. It’s easy to just let her talk and then snatch the reins when I feel the need. She waxes lyrical about her travels and before long we’re getting into deep rapport and she’s giving up lots of her inner thoughts. One drink there and we move on to the “moustache bar” (don’t know the real name, but the walls are covered in paintings and models of moustaches), going inside and upstairs to a loft conversion furnished like a 1940s jazz cafe. The outrageous humidity means no-one else has ventured in and we both seem to make the decision to trade comfort for privacy.
She’s sitting next to me on the sofa and lets me pull her in. She refuses the kiss. “I’ve been with my boyfriend for a year and I won’t cheat on him. I just decided to come because I enjoy flirting”.
That’s not going to stop me, obviously.
I keep laying it on. Prodding her thighs, playing with her hair, grabbing her breasts, dirty talking. She stays there because in her mind so long as she doesn’t kiss, it’s not cheating. Finally, after two hours, her sister is waiting outside and she’s got to go. So I get my dick out and put her hand on it. After five seconds she suddenly snatches it away. “Don’t! I’ll go crazy!”
She’s already told me she has a high libido and is very wet. The last words of the date are:
Me: I want to fuck you
Her: I want to fuck you too, but I can’t
Me: Ok. Enjoy your evening!
It’s strange how different my dates are now to a few years ago. I go back to Republic Square to meet the rest of the gang and turn my attention to other leads. It’s 50/50 that she’ll ever reply to me now, but I ping her and she’s responding. A couple of days later she unexpectedly agrees to another date and when I tell her “7pm by the horse again” she doesn’t reply.
I show up anyway, just in case. She’s there.
I walk her back towards the same bar district and she briefly detours at Studenski Park to give her sister a spare phone she’d forgetton to return. We don’t dally. I decide to take a chance and walk her directly to my apartment. I murmur something about charging my phone and how she can smoke in the garden. She comes in. She’s just accepting my lead.
My main thought is to keep her in the garden until her momentum to go to a bar has died. I put two chairs out and we just sit drinking water as she smokes. We make small talk for about twenty minutes. I don’t push hard. I just want to stabilise the “this date is in my apartment” frame. There’s almost no kino and I don’t try to kiss.
After her cigarette I suggest we go inside, where the only place to sit is on the bed. Then I go to kiss. She fights me off a little until I just grab her neck, throw her back onto the bed, and kiss her. Then she likes it. The next twenty minutes are a technical masterclass in beating LMR. Her body is screaming out for sex but she’s determined not to do it.
Gradually I get her top off and tits out. Damn they are good. Then I’m fingering her. She’s moaning feeble protests and not really making any effort to disengage. Then I get my dick out and put her hand on it. “We’re not going to have sex” she says as she starts giving a handjob. It’s time to get sneaky. I pull my trousers off and finger her while I’m kneeling between her legs. When I judge her to be at maximum arousal I just put my dick in and rawdog her. I don’t want the pause while I put on a condom.
Her eyes briefly go wide, she whispers “don’t” and then I’m fucking her. Within ten seconds she’s all-in, arms and legs wrapped around my back, pulling me in. It’s dirty, raw, hard sex. Fucking awesome.
Afterwards I interview her. She tells me she really didn’t plan to have sex but once it started she loved it. She also tells me she really enjoyed the process of being skillfully seduced – knowing what I was up to and just appreciating the skill of it. She rated the sex 9/10 so I told her to tell the sister (heh!) but she reckons it’ll be a secret from everyone.
“Next time you’re in Belgrade, message me” she says as we make our farewells.
Daygame is a squalid seedy world at times. There’s cool sleaziness when you’re trying to squeeze your dick into the un-corrupted back passage of a Kazahk virgin in your flea-ridden airbnb shared apartment on the first date, but there’s also the bad sleaziness when it comes to misdirecting noobs on YouTube. So, let’s talk about the typical shennanigans that will be encountered by the typical guy browsing YouTube for infields. I’ve split them into four different types of misdemeanour.
1. Cherry Pickers
As any active daygamer knows, the reality on the streets is you fail almost all the time and the lays are rare blips of glory. Exactly what your failure/success ratio is depends on all the intangibles such as your strengths (height/youth/looks/body/aesthetic/charisma/technical savvy etc) and on the girl (hotness/age/nationality/availability/religion etc). One thing that’s almost certain is if someone’s ratios sound too good to be true, they probably are. For example I recently had a guy tell me he only opens the very hottest girls and he fucks 1 out of 5 cold approaches. Sure. Even Leonardo Di Caprio won’t hit those stats (if pure cold approaching).
Here’s the rule for YouTube – Every single guy is cherry-picking his best sets for his channel (including me)
That doesn’t mean he’s a fake. When Match Of The Day shows you the one minute of goals and edits out the other 89 minutes of tedium, they aren’t lying to you. You know football is 90 minutes and is often boring, so you don’t shout “fakers” at the screen. It’s expected. So, expect it from YouTube channels. Different guys cherry pick with different rigour. Someone like Johnny Berba is happy to put up uninterrupted blowout streaks and all manner of mishaps and foul-ups. In contrast the likes of Ed Kahn or Daniel Blake only post the bouncebacks. Now I can’t tell you what % they cut, but I’ll guarantee that you’re seeing the best 1%-5% of their work.
That’s not dishonest. It’s showbusiness. Take heart that you’re not as shit as you think you are because your typical day doesn’t match their highlight reel. Many guys are out on the streets every day with the camera turned on. You’re just seeing the very best of a marathon filming effort. Think of it like a girl’s sole Tinder photo.
The cherry-pickers at least show you reality, no matter how carefully pruned. This second category are the smoke’n’mirrors mob who show you one thing and tell you it’s another. RSD are the worst offenders that I know of. Sure, some of their coaches have genuine talent (Julien springs to mind) but you always get the feeling that they are blowing smoke up your ass. Rapid cuts, clips cut mid-sentence, dropped audio, girls walking away with the guy but you never see where to, forced intimacy just long enough to capture it on camera before the girl disengages – There are many editing tricks to make you think you’re seeing something that never really happened. Add in voiceovers and hyperbole and you’re firmly in illusionist territory.
The easist way to spot an illusionist is that he uses editing. Some of these clip editors are as hyperactive as a Taylor Swift music video. If the guy can’t just put the camera in one place, mic up, and leave it then he’s an illusionist. Now we’re getting further towards dishonesty. They have a narrative to present and the in-fields will be forced to fit, regardless of how the set went. And bear in mind these guys are also cherry-picking.
It’s so tempting to name some of these, but I’ll resist the urge. Some guys are just absolutely hopeless but they won’t turn that fucking camera off. If you’re really new you might not spot them because in your mind the act of simply walking up to a girl and saying “you look nice” is a death-defying stunt. Clowns don’t get good results so they tend to dress up their videos with gimmicks – costumes, weird openers, 30-day challenges, social freedom exercises and so on. You’ll also notice the girls just don’t seem very engaged. Another favourite is to post a twenty minute video where they are talking for fifteen about what you’re going to see, and only five minutes actually seeing it – the material isn’t good enough to stand alone.
I include in this category any guy who’s pulling women less attractive than himself. If you’re teaching guys to scrape the barrel, you’re a clown.
I have my private opinions on who I think is fake but I’ll keep them to myself. Publically calling a guy out is a serious charge and I’ll not do so without evidence, even though I don’t take anyone at face value when forming my private opinions. Fakes are guys who pay actresses or arrange friends to act roles. These are scripted encounters meant to simulate a real infield so that you think the guy has skills he doesn’t really possess. How to spot one? Unfortunately, noobs are often so uncalibrated and so lacking in experience of what real daygame looks like that their spider sense doesn’t trigger to fakes. Here’s some things to watch out for:
I’d love to post some examples of what I consider fake videos, but that’ll start a shitstorm. Those pointers should be enough for you to form your own opinions. There are some very good legit infields up on YouTube. Just don’t think they are presenting a balanced picture of how daygame really goes.