[UPDATE: I've left this post as originally written, because it captures my mood and vibe at the time I first got into Game and started blogging. K.]
I got divorced early 2009, very much against my wishes. We’d been together for nine years, married for three and despite troubles surfacing throughout 2008 I’d assumed that the absolute bliss of the preceding eight years meant we were gonna get through it.
But no. The worthless skank decided her “feelings” had changed, and therefore that’s that. Fuck her vows, fuck her promises, and fuck our marriage. She walked out and my life nearly fell apart.
My response bothered me. Most of my life I’ve been hovering between lower alpha / higher beta behaviours. At some imperceptible point in our marriage, probably about a year after the wedding itself, I slipped into real chode-ish betaness. I became boring, home-centred, and a provider. When she started acting up, instead of just kicking the bitch onto the street like a real man, I became clingy, needy and lame. That just wasn’t me.
For three months I tumbled into the depths. Objectively, I handled it all well. My work didn’t suffer, my health didn’t suffer, and I didn’t follow any self-destructive impulses. But for weeks on end I’d struggle to hold back fits of tears. Anything could trigger it – a love song on the radio, an off-hand comment from a colleague. The divorce wasnt’ even a difficult one – no kids, no house, no shared assets, no divorce-theft legal claims. Just a clean break. Yet I was absolutely crushed by seeing my whole future collapse.
Three months of hurt. Then I hit bottom and started figuring things out. I had two choices:
(i) I can wail and gnash my teeth, shout “why, cruel world!” and sink into a woman-less refuge of video games and porn, hoping somehow I’ll be introduced to some girl through my social circle. I’ve got a friend who did just this seven years ago. Since then he’s gotten very good at Scuba and darts.
(ii) Take control. Learn to be the agent of my own success with women. Fucking man-up and rediscover my balls.
I chose the latter. A few years ago I’d read “The Lay Guide” by Tony Clink. Just some paperback in HMV offering the (as I thought then) ridiculous promise of teaching you to sleep with a different hottie every night of the week. I bought it as a diversion, expecting my still-beta romantic mind to rip it apart. But no. It was great. I filtered it’s teachings through my own successes and failures and thought this shit is the goods
I didn’t need it back then, so it stayed on my shelf gathering dust till I finally loaned it out. One night in April 2009 as I lay alone on my sofa, wondering why I couldn’t enjoy Bad Company on my Playstation 3 I had that gestalt moment.
I’m gonna be a pick up artist.
This is gonna be my new hobby. I shall dedicate the next six months to learning. If it’s the goods, I’ll continue. Thus was born Krauser’s PUA adventure.