Belgrade Diaries – Part Three

August 3, 2015
krauserpua

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.

Living the dream, yesterday

Living the dream, yesterday

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]

This is what a strong lead looks like

This is what a strong lead looks like

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:

  • Loss of anonymity / Secret Society
  • Delay of at least an hour, probably three
  • Getting much further from my apartment
  • She has the frame
  • Surrounded by people I don’t know but she does

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.

About to put my dick into something just like this

About to put my dick into something just like this

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…..

The first rule of Euro Jaunt Club is…..

July 30, 2015
krauserpua

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.

"It seems a few of you haven't been following the first rule...."

“It seems a few of you haven’t been following the first rule….”

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.

No homo.

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.

Shitsville

Shitsville

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.

No homo.

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.

Belgrade Diaries 2015 – Part Two

July 27, 2015
krauserpua

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.

A hamster-like face

A hamster-like face

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!
Her: Bye!

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.

But the body made up for it nicely

But the body made up for it nicely

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.

Cherry-pickers, Illusionists, Clowns and Fakes

July 25, 2015
krauserpua

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.

2. Illusionists
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.

3. Clowns
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.

4. Fakes
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:

  • Extremely stable camera work with the girl right in the centre frame
  • The camera is already in place before the opener. This very rarely happens in real life because opening happens fast and usually the camera man is rushing behind you to keep up
  • Camera never moves. In reality people walk past, the cameraman tries to get a better angle, the girl looks over and you have to move etc
  • Girl has hooked before the opener has been delivered (she’s been told to hook). Now this does happen sometimes for real, but it’s rare.
  • Stilted conversation, like each is waiting their turn to deliver scripted lines
  • Less artefacts of conversation, such as a girl hesitating, or saying something stupid, or the guy starting a conversational thread then changing on the fly because it’s not hitting.
  • The guy just doesn’t look cool enough or charismatic enough to get a girl like that to react so well.
  • The girl agrees too readily to compliance tests when the guy clearly hasn’t done the right things to get that. Again, sometimes a girl is just so strongly a Yes Girl that it doesn’t matter, but if all the guy’s channel is bad game that gets the girl, he’s faking.
  • You can’t find anyone you trust who has winged with these guys and will vouch for them. Likewise, if they coach they refuse to demo or the demos they do are shit compared to the videos.

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.

Belgrade Diaries – 2015

July 23, 2015
krauserpua

I’m sitting in an air-conditioned cafe just up from Strahinjica Bana, to strip of cool bars and cafes known as “silicon valley” to the locals due to it’s disproportionate number of surgically enhanced females in expensive dresses and high heels. I’ve got a cheeseburger and coffee within comfortable reach and I’m reflecting on this, the last day of my ten-night trip.

Since June 2014 I’ve been really “in my head” about Belgrade. For the previous two years it had been my prime feeding ground, supplying me twelve supple young girls all but two of whom were very hot. I’d just finished four weeks in May 2014 and decided to extend my trip an extra two weeks. The logic was obvious – I’d just knobbed six girls and had another three regulars on the go from previous trips. My usually modest self (heh!) couldn’t help but crow about my own awesomeness. So, I called my landlord and turned four weeks into six.

It was a big mistake.

Those last two weeks were spent alone and quickly became Groundhog Day. I’d fallen out with Bodi about a week earlier and Tom had been and gone. So just me, staring at the same four walls every morning. Same cafe for breakfast, same walk through Studentski Square up to the same Knez Mihailova. Same familiar battle between the ego (“get more notches”) and the hindbrain (“who gives a fuck, you’ve had enough”). I had a few near misses but for final game results, the last two weeks were a bust.

I continued to fuck a rotation of five, as the others dropped off. But it wasn’t much fun anymore.

Just as generals are determined to fight the previous war, I went back in September for another month to see if I could recapture the magic. Same apartment, same cafes, same streets. Socially things went well this time – my old buddy Jabba was in town a while – plus a good guy we’d met in Budapest the month before. I also met an American dude in the gym and we got on well. No homo.

It was a disaster for girls. Almost all of my rotation collapsed. A couple had new boyfriends. A couple more were out of town all month. A couple more were just mysteriously uninterested. Try as I might I just couldn’t motivate myself to open. Every day I bumped into a girl I’d already dated or fucked. All the staff at the different restaurants recognised me. I realised I was feeling the “spotlight effect” – that awkward feeling of having a bullseye painted onto your back and everyone is watching your sets. Belgrade was no longer that place “over there” that I raid like a horny Viking. It was now “over here”, a place I knew well and it knew me. In the second week I got intense toothache and ended up having a difficult wisdom tooth extraction. Complications meant it wasn’t until February 2015 that I finally had my teeth sorted and the pain gone.

I did same-day-lay a virgin in one hour, but that was a glimpse of glory completely against the run of play. Kind of like Wigan’s cup-winning header in the last minute against Manchester City. The reality was my vibe and game were in the shitter every time I breathed Serbian air.

So I gave Belgrade a wide berth for months. In April 2015 I’d spent a week in in Zagreb with Tom and while perusing Skyscanner it became clear it was way cheaper and more convenient to return from there to Prague via Belgrade than anywhere else. So, feeling very very weird, I took the motorway bus from Zagreb to Belgrade and gave it two nights. Perhaps the six-month break had changed things?

Nope. I did one set – which turned into an idate – but most of the time I just sat in a cafe with a paperback novel, gazing into space wondering what had happened to my love affair for Belgrade. I got lucky when a cold lead from 2014 messaged me and came round for sex. So I got another notch I hadn’t really earned. Then back to Prague. Fast forward to June 2015 and I’m sitting in a Riga cafe with Eddie from Street Attraction. He tells me his team are doing a Yugoslav tour in July with a few students – much like Rock Solid Game had done in 2012. “I’m fucking sick of Serbia” I tell him, “and July is a bad time. It’ll be unbearably hot.”

No way I'll retain my high-status skin colour in this sun

No way I’ll retain my high-status skin colour in this sun

Nonetheless I think if I don’t join them on this trip it’s highly likely I won’t visit Belgrade at all. The last thing I want is to run through Groundhog Day again just to fuck yet more Serbs but….. damn they are rather hot and well – it won’t do any harm to get a few more hottie-notches, right? I doubt I’ll even straighten my head out enough to do the sets. [Note, I only had this inner game issue in Belgrade. My trips to other cities were more like the good old times]. Fuck it, I didn’t have anything else lined up for July. Even if I spend all month playing video games and reading detective novels that’s no different to what I’d do if I stayed in Newcastle. Might as well keep myself in the game. So I booked ten nights and told Eddie I was coming.

I declined my usual apartment, even though it’s got the world’s greatest logistics and is cheap as chips. No-More-Groundhog-Day.

I arrive on Monday afternoon and do a set on the way to my new apartment, just to break the duck. I lie down on the bed and fall asleep until 8pm. It’s unbelievably hot and humid. On Tuesday I try to start a number farm. My first nine sets are deplorable – we’re talking Berba/Cassell/RSD level. I feel weird and that unsettles the girls. On set ten I idate a stunner. It goes really well (She flakes). On my way home a local PUA recognises me and chats. A nice guy, but it’s not doing my Spotlight Effect any good.

I sit in the new Boutique cafe restaurant for a steak. It’s late in the day now so there’s a cool breeze and Knez Mihailova is filling up with locals doing their daily pilgramage to Kalemegdan fortress. Just as I stand up to get my wallet for the check, I happen to look out over the street…. and lock eyes with a blonde girl I’d deflowered in May 2014 who now hates me. She gives a shocked look, sniffs, and turns away. This fucking spotlight effect…..

A look-a-like

A look-a-like

Wednesay afternoon and Street Attraction roll into town – six of the fuckers including students. Their vibe is great and it’s immediately fun. We hang out a lot. I join in the opening and my vibe is as good as it’s ever been I take some numbers. I get recognised by another travelling PUA (an American) and bump into another girl I fucked last year. Thursday is my day of glory. Two German PUAs fly in to join the scrum so there are now ten active foreign PUAs infesting the small daygame area. It’s like a swarm of locusts (and I’m equally to blame). Somehow it doesn’t matter and I pull eight numbers from a procession of hotties and idate a stunner – 18yr old star ballerina. I’m feeling good again. Somewhere deep inside I feel the accumulated multi-year Belgrade weirdness crack, splinter and collapese. This town feels normal again. I’m so relieved!

Of course it isn’t normal – there are ten PUAs burning it – and I get a few girls eye roll me when I hit the “I just saw you and…” line. Word spreads that some local Asian chode had been running a bootcamp the week before [that must have been absolutely dreadful] and another more well-known outfit just did so too. Then we notice a group of Serbian PUAs doing daygame so bad even RSD cultists would feel embarrassed. They are  literally following girls down the street trying to high-five them. I watch seven sets and don’t see a single hook point before I turn my back in disgust.

We continue to open for the next few days. There’s the usual hits and misses but it’s pretty good. Then we all start to notice a tremendous flake problem, combined with an even worse “I have a boyfriend and I love him” problem. In my nine prior visits I’d never had so many promising leads amount to nothing and the Street Attraction guys were having the same issues. We realised Belgrade had finally been burned. Girls were asking “are you one of those guys who runs up and down Knez Mihailova trying to fuck girls?”

Um…. yes. I kind of wrote the book on it…..

So that’s how the first week in Belgrade looked. On the plus side I’d broken out of my one-year in-my-head Belgrade weirdness so I was now opening and getting lots of hot girls in my phone book, and on the negative the place was burned and I was suffering immense frustration from flakes. The low point was getting recognised yet again by yet another foreign PUA who then spent half an hour spinning tall stories that – had they been true – would make him the Usian Bolt of daygame.

And, fifty sets in, I still hadn’t been laid.

To be continued…..

Womanizer’s Bible Podcast #8 is up

July 13, 2015
krauserpua

I’ve been quiet for the last few weeks – again! There’s no special secret reason why, I’ve just been a bit tired of blogging and of Game. I finally finished editing my new video product and didn’t want to be too distracted from that. It’s still about a month away from release because of some technical issues with my streaming platform. In the meantime, to celebrate the 700th free blogpost, here’s a new podcast:

My interview with Street Attraction

June 30, 2015
krauserpua

I just recently came back from a three-week jaunt with approximately 1/3 of it in each of Riga, Warsaw and Prague. It was pretty good. I took the anal virginity of a hot 18yr-old in Riga (she’s in the video below but gentleman’s honour prevents me saying which girl), then SLD’d a Daenerys Targaryen look-a-like in Prague and D2L’d a Tania Russof look-alike three days later. It would appear the daygame gods no longer curse me.

My weekend in Prague

My weekend in Prague

The week in Riga was with Eddie from well-known daygame YouTube channel (and London coaches) Street Attraction. I’d watched a bunch of their videos and been quite impressed with their solid execution of the London Daygame Model. Don’t be misled by the sometimes comical nature of their YouTubing – Eddie does real textbook daygame when he’s in it to get laid (rather than entertain the subscribers). The boys were kind enough to offer me an interview and here it is……

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