The Player’s Journey Blog

January 4, 2016
krauserpua

I’m not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions. It took me a long time to figure out why and I think the answer is I prefer to just press on with a plan, doing more-or-less the right things day after day. I’d form a habit and keep it up than write lists on Post-It notes. If I sometimes welched and took it easy then so be it – humans are not robots and sometimes we need time off to restore balance and enthusiasm.

That said, the New Year is a good time to take stock of your life and flip the hard reset button so you can initiate new plans. Most of you have probably already bought your gym memberships, jogging shoes, and copy of Daygame Overkill. Good luck!

One recommendation I do have for aspiring daygamers is to start a Player’s Journey blog. They are free to do on WordPress and really simple. Just open the brower-based wordpad and type away. Have a look on Google Images for a photo of a hot bird to stick at the top of each post. Done. Sorted.

Done and sorted, yesterday

Done and sorted, yesterday

If you’re not interested in writing, then don’t bother at all. This post will give a little advice to those of you with an itch to write. If you’re not feeling that itch, don’t force yourself into doing something you have no love for. Save that limited pool of self-discipline for your actual real-life cold approaching. But, assuming you’re gonna write…………… let’s start with simple set-up.

THE PLATFORM

1. Use WordPress
Spoogle’s Blogger platform is ugly and unwieldy. WordPress is extremely user friendly and all the default free themes and hosting work just fine in the beginning. You can get your own domain name and hosting later if you decide to keep on blogging. Don’t pay anyone a penny in the first few months until you’ve found your feet. This is a hobby not a business.

2. Be anonymous
Choose a PUA name and set up completely separate Gmail and WordPress accounts. It may surprise you that my comments queue often shows the real email account the reader logged in under, and if I copy-paste that into Facebook or Linked In then I know exactly who they are, where they live, and who their employer is. I don’t care but there’s always a snidey hater out there somewhere who can use that to make trouble for you*. So put up a firewall.

3. Lock it
For the first month or so it’s probably best to keep the blog private while you find your feet. You may decide to keep it permanently private – like Tom did – or open it up later – like I did.

4. Have fun
Go onto fiverr.com and hire a logo designer to give you a $5 brand logo and another to give you a $5 banner for the top of the blog**. It’s dumb but its easy and good for lulz. If you’re stuck for ideas just take photos with your camera phone when you’re in a supermarket, record store or games store. Send that logo to the designer and say “like this but [colours] and [text]”

Okay then, so you’re sitting on a new blog and the page is blank, waiting for My First Post. What the hell are you going to write about?

THE CONTENT

Mike Cernovich has an excellent post on how to create a compelling blog. Put simply, his formula is: (i) talk about a problem you had (ii) talk about how you overcame it (iii) tell the reader what you’ve learned that can help them do the same.

The Player’s Journey naturally fits this pattern because the problem is getting laid, the solution is game, and the advice is your specific routines or mindsets. But let’s break it down further:

Every idea, experience or opinion you ever have can be:

  • broken down fractally into additional ideas, experiences and opinions
  • expanded horizontally to wash over other topics to which the same principles apply, i.e. mindwank
  • expanded vertically into further minute detail, i.e. a deep dive
  • described both literally & evidentially, and also figuratively & symbolically.
Symbolism, yesterday

Symbolism, yesterday

What this means to the daygame blogger is he has an unlimited number of things to write about. Unlike the normal non-fiction blogger we also have another never-ending content generator: your experience on the streets.

Every time you step onto the streets you create content a story: If you cold approach then each set is the story. If you weasel out and spend the afternoon eating Haribo while crying in a back alley that’s also a potential story a full length book. Even if you stay home that day and read a book – that’s still a story if you follow Mike’s formula. For as long as you’re “in the game” you’ll have things to write about.

THE STYLE

There is one reason – and only one – why readers will return to your blog and eventually become a loyal following. This reason is AUTHENTICITY.

If you’re planning the blog to monetise it as your location-independent income then give up now. It won’t happen. I’ve been blogging since 2009 (I may have even been the first consistent daygame blogger – I’m not sure), I succeeded on the street, I co-invented the method, I wrote five books, and I’m a pretty good writer too. Despite all these things in my favour, I’ll always be able to make far more $$$ from my real career than from blogging. Daygame is simply too niche to make anyone rich.

What’s your sales proposition? “Nick Krauser without the originality or talent”

Nobody wants to read your 5 Ways To Open In A Supermarket or How To Think Like James Bond. There are better-established and more talented guys out there already trying to push that shit and they don’t make much money either. Pretty much the only way to make money in that style is the Return Of Kings way: Leverage an already really big platform and then troll mentally unstable fringe elements for hate-clicks, positioning yourself as the crusader for justice that all the perma-angry lost boys can look up to.

Daygame will never be big enough for those banner ads to make you money. You have to go after feminists or write angry reviews about the new Star Wars movie. Waste of time. So, give it up. Blogging is not about income. I’ll finish this post with what I consider good reasons to blog.

Do you want to troll these people for clicks?

Do you want to troll these people for clicks?

So, lets get back to authenticity. Given that you’re not trying to impress people with your mad skillz in order to sell coaching, what are you trying to do?

The goal of every player’s journey blog should be to authentically and sincerely reflect your experience of the streets and what you think about it.

Your blog will take the reader through all the postives: the wide-eyed hope of taking control of your dating life, the excitement of taking the first pretty girl’s number, the camaraderie of meeting other players and sinking into the Secret Society, the sense of achievement from pushing against adversity week after week. It will also cover the negatives: the misery of ten consecutive blowouts, the frustration of a last-gasp failure in the bedroom, the self-doubt and isolation as you drop out of the matrix.

Your blog will be compelling because you are re-creating the emotional rollercoaster that you live day after day. Some readers will be pulled in as voyeurs peeking at a life less ordinary. Other readers will be fellow travellers who want to compare their experiences to yours. This only works if you’re AUTHENTIC and SINCERE.

Drop those “5 things you didn’t know about….” posts. Tell your real experiences. Follow Mike’s formula.

Liberte, egalitaire, and rapid escalation

Liberte, egalitaire, and rapid escalation

THE CLASSIC STYLE

There is a writing style developed in France by Descartes*** called “the classic style”. It’s essentially an invisible style because every good writer uses it. It’s like Call of Duty’s “aim down sights” mechanic – it’s simply the way things are done and it doesn’t cross your mind it had to be invented and was once a brand new mechanic associated with one particular franchise.

Steve Sailer explains the style better than me here including this money quote from Pinker:

The guiding metaphor of classic style is seeing the world. The writer can see something that the reader has not yet noticed, and he orients the reader so she can see for herself. The purpose of writing is presentation, and its motive is disinterested truth. It succeeds when it aligns language with truth, the proof of success being clarity and simplicity. The truth can be known and is not the same as the language that reveals it; prose is a window onto the world. The writer knows the truth before putting it into words; he is not using the occasion of writing to sort out what he thinks. The writer and the reader are equals: The reader can recognize the truth when she sees it, as long as she is given an unobstructed view. And the process of directing the reader’s gaze takes the form of a conversation.

The key take-away is stop second-guessing yourself and stop going all “meta” in your writing. Speak plainly and directly, like you are telling a story to your friends in the pub (for field reports) or explaining your opinion in a discussion (for theory pieces). Assume you’re the expert and the reader is an intelligent layman, then make an AUTHENTIC and SINCERE attempt to convey the information.

If you start posturing, you’re done. In the beginning you can’t help but posture and grandstand but we’ll get to that another time. It’s okay, it comes with the territory when you write about Game because you’ll often slip into “aspirational writing” as you use your blog to try to game yourself into higher peformance. But try to restrain your ego.

THE EXPERTISE

“But Nick, I’m a noob not an expert. I barely understand daygame. Why would anyone listen to me?”

You are the expert of your own experience. Nobody in the world can relate the truth of your experience better than you can. I remember a time when I was seven years old and I fell out of a tree on the hill next to my junior school. There were many expert tree-climbing boys in my school who could’ve better advised you on the correct way to climb that tree. However none of them could better relate my particular story of falling out of this particular tree. I could tell a great story about how I felt on ascent and then again on my rather speedier descent.

I’d rather read an authentic and sincere field report about blowouts than a posturing grandstanding puff piece about a same day lay. Most readers would.

WHY WRITE?

From the beginning of this post I assumed you have an interest in writing. That’s ultimately what will push you one way or the other. If you do begin a Players Journey blog, you’ll quite likely notice that within six months most of the following benefits accrue to you:

  • Accountability: You never truly understand something until you try to explain it in writing (Daygame Mastery taught me that above eveything else). By practicising the discipline of coming home after a session (daygame, reading, gym, whatever) and then organising your thoughts into a blogpost, you will be training yourself to take responsibilty. That’s a universally attractive masculine trait.
  • Purpose: It’s sometimes easy to lose your way along the journey, finding yourself spinning your wheels. The blog gives you forward direction as a mini-project. You get to potter on your virtual allotment to keep your mind turning, and you’ll often force yourself onto the street just so you have something to write about. The blog becomes your wing, egging you on.
  • Storytelling: A key skill in cold approach pick up is to spontaneously generate observations, mythologies and stories from the very beginning all the way through the date and relationship. Your blog is practice for that.
  • Self Awareness: The blog encourages you to introspect about your motivations, techniques and results so that you can better identify problems and trends. It encourages that observing ego that stands outside of you, looking in. That helps maintain a forward direction when everything else around you is a whirlwind.
  • Comaraderie: In the beginning no-one reads you but the blog helps you take on the identity of “player” or “daygamer” which helps overcome the awkwardness you feel with the old chode identity you’re trying to shed. Later you’ll draw comments and these guys will help you feel part of something larger than yourself.
  • Contacts: Your blog will function like an online resume for potential wings. Even guys like Bodi – whose blog is mostly a repository of misery and disappointment – can leverage it to arrange meet-ups with guys on the other side of the world who read him. If you write with authenticity and sincerity, people will want to hang out with you. No longer will you suffer the horror of an LSS forum meet-up.
  • Thinking Out Loud: One exercise I recommend noobs do is sit in a cafe and look at the girls walking by. Make an assumption stack and mythology for each girl. Keep drilling until you can immediately generate the first thirty seconds of a set for any girl you see (my Black Book video goes into detail on this drill, including many examples). Your blog will also work this way as you think aloud in your posts as you grapple with ideas and try to work your way through them. Any of my readers who browses back to earlier years will be able to trace how the ideas were formulated.
  • Your Memoir: You don’t have to be so vain as to write an actual memoir. However just as teenage girls like to keep diaries charting their progression from ponies to One Direction to Lemmy Kilmister we players chart our own progression. It’s pleasant to look back on where you were and what you used to think, then shake your head thinking “what a silly boy.”

Writing a blog is a labour of love. If any of you do get it going, I wish you luck. A few months from now I’ll do a round-up of player’s journey blogs. So, if you start now and follow this advice you can be sure you’ll at least get announced to the world a few months from now and get some readers.

* If your blog gains a little traction you’ll certainly attract marauding gammas. They roam the internet looking for bloggers they can attach to and then start reframing them, making them feel bad, and pull them into their reality-weave. It’s a little like how every second hand bookstore is a magnet for crazy homeless people. Be ruthless in banning them.

** And before you ask – no, my banner wasn’t $5 you cheeky cunts.

*** French social theory may be the worst in the world but their 19th century writers, such as Dumas, were frequently fantastic.

I might bang my first 26yr-old Ukranian shop girl – Part Two

December 5, 2015
krauserpua

An intermediate player spends a lot of his time learning how to blow the love-bubble and prevent it bursting. From the moment you stop a girl on the street you have to induce her to talk to you, to enjoy it, and to let you lead her forwards. That’s a real skill if she hasn’t already decided to fuck you – which for us normal men means 95%+ of girls (and all the hotter ones). If you take her on an idate the bubble stays blown ever longer but there’ll come a point where you have to either pull her home, or take a number. Assuming the latter, the bubble bursts and she’s going to wake up tomorrow morning to her normal life. The subsequent texting (or lack of it) will clue you in to what she really wants. If she responds well you’ve got a Day 2 coming up and the bubble gets re-blown.

You can only fuck the girl when she’s in the bubble.

That’s why I say the first message after the bubble bursts is the most important one. How does she respond to your feeler text after the street stop? How does she respond to your ping the day after the idate/Day 2? That’s the single best piece of data to gauge her interest. The medium is the message. Good signs are:

  • Fast reply (either by clock-time, or by a busy girl responding soon after her first available break)
  • Long reply
  • Smiley faces
  • Unsolicited information
  • Playing along to your conversation thread

So with that in mind what do you think of this girl’s next day post-burst response?

You can open this bigger on a new tab

You can open this bigger on a new tab

I call it a good one. She remained a Suspicious On but she’s closer to Yes after the first date than she was before it. She’s had a good look at me and is willing to stick around for another dance. My gut was telling me not to rush it and not be too available because for all the positive signs, she’d rejected the kiss attempt. I’d do better to just patiently keep things going, drop in a little value but avoid banter and studiously avoid asking her out again for a few days. This would recover some frame and show I’m not entirely sold. Make her chase a little, or at least wonder why I’m not chasing harder. She needs to know she’s got to get her steps right too, it’s not all one-way traffic. *

It’s not until four days later that I invite her out. It didn’t take any willpower on my part to hold out because I was enjoying my street game and had other leads which looked brighter than her. She rebuffed that invite and I didn’t ask again so you can see she’s keeping the momentum alive and doesn’t want me to drop off the hook. When I don’t ask a second time she starts chasing. I start to feel like I’m reeling her in.

Kiev bird post pre day 3

Any time she’s chasing, let her come. Don’t snatch the reins and start leading. You’ll see I just hold my ground – polite, keeping it alive, but not trying to move forwards. You never get this luxury on a short trip but I had time and alternate leads. When I don’t message her at all the next day she tries to rebuild the ant mound and invites me out with a specific time later that day.

She was still hard work.

Kiev bird post day 3

We had a drink in a bar and she retained her usual self-possession. Nonetheless my thinking was “she knows what I want and she came out again, so escalate” and I started walking her to an Irish bar that has darker, more secluded booths. She wasn’t having it. “I don’t want to go there” she said, but actually provided a reasonable specific rationale for why that particular pub was not suitable for her so I let it slide. She suggested some other place a couple of streets away and walked me there.

Oh dear, another frame-snatch.

That pub turned out to be a brightly-lit Italian restaurant and she wanted to eat. As has happened consistently this year, at the first silly buggers gambit I just lost all interest in her. I literally couldn’t be bothered to talk to her anymore and was fighting the urge to walk out without ordering. She said she’s hungry and ordered pizza. I ordered a beer and told myself “give her ten minutes to redeem herself, or leave”. It took mental discipline for me to stay on the date. **

She couldn’t help but notice my change of mood and started to get worried. I barely looked at her, refused a slice of her pizza, didn’t order a second beer, and mostly just gave short non-commital answers. It wasn’t a ploy – I really lost interest in her but couldn’t quite decide to leave. Halfway through her food she’d been trying hard to rebuild the mood so I softened and started talking again. With the benefit of hindsight this had been an effective push.

I told her I wanted to go to a proper bar and as we walked on to a basement hipster-twat joint *** my mood suddenly picked up. I became more talkative and the vibe was good again. We sat down in a booth, her across from me and I decided there’d be no more bullshit. She’d reached the end of the line and things would have to get overt. Slavic girls are extremely good at playing the grey area to waste your time. You’ll often have to break the vibe and get overt. Find out where you’re really at. I told her to sit next to me. She resisted then came, leaving a six inch gap between us. I moved her bag out of the way and pulled her in.

Her – “What are you doing?”
Me – “I want you to sit closer.”
Her – “Why?”
Me – “So I can touch you.”
Her – “I don’t want you to touch me.”
Me – “Why not?”
Her – *silence*

Intellectually, I had her pegged as a timewaster but my gut told me it was probably a case of The Rub. She’s a strong-minded greyhound, very pretty, and at 26 years old she’s past the stage of being whisked up on a wave of momentum. So, I gave her The Talk. Daygame Mastery has the explanation, and I phrased it something like this:

“I like you and you know what I want. Now you have to decide what you want. If you decide you just like me as a friend, that’s okay but I will walk out. I won’t be angry, but I don’t have female friends and I don’t want to be your friend. If you are sexually attracted to me and want to be more than friends, that’s great. That’s what I want too.”

She turned and said “I just like meeting you, and practicing English. We’re just friends.”

I looked her dead in the eye and said “Think very carefully before you answer……. Is that what you really want?”

She clammed up and looked into space, thinking furiously. She knew she’d run out of road and it was put-up-or-shut-up time. Obviously she was sexually attracted to me, it wasn’t a friendzone issue. This was purely about her script vs my script. She wanted me to go at her pace and jump through her hoops. I’d just told her I’d jumped through enough hoops and now it was time for her to jump through mine. Would her pride allow it? Did she like me enough to tear up her script, or at least hastily rewrite it to bring the happy ending forwards?

About five minutes passed, while I just sipped beer and watched the wall-mounted TV which played Cheburashka (that’s not embellishment, it really was that show). Then she piped up.

The rejected kiss-close face

The rejected kiss-close face

“Nick, I do like you as a man.”
“Okay, kiss me” I said and pulled her in. She resisted and I went stone cold again.
“Not here” she said. Admittedly, it was a crowded bar.
“I will kiss you tonight” I said.
“Yes, okay. Just not here.”

I knew I didn’t have the patience to sit through another hour in the bar and it was getting late so I drank up and told her I’d walk her to the bus stop. She was quite timid and quiet now. As we walked up the main street we passed what my travel buddies had termed the “Ghostbusters building” so I pointed to the staircase leading up to it.

“I’m going to kiss you there” I said and started walking her there. She followed. At the top of the stairs I pulled her in and kissed her. She went floppy for a second and then jumped me. It was like a damn bursting and she was very much into it.

Okay, so it was The Rub all along.

I was alert for any sign that she was ready to be dragged home, but she never let her crotch push into mine and never quite gave the telltale sighs, squeezes and grinds that signal “take me home now”. So I walked her up to the bus stop, gave a soft kiss goodnight and let her go.

How she felt when I kissed her

How she felt when I kissed her

* Men who can only ever fuck girls through Fools Mate are probably scratching their heads thinking “Dude, what?”

** Men with 100+ notches are probably nodding their heads at this part of the story. With the benefit of hindsight she was more “on” than I realised, she just wanted to keep the frame.

*** Divan

I don’t bang my first 26yr-old Ukranian shop girl – Part One

November 28, 2015
krauserpua

As noted in the earlier post, I was in the enviable and entirely unexpected position of being able to feed entirely on Kiev girls who IOI’d me or who otherwise triggered my spider-sense of being susceptible to my approach. It made daygame so easy that it felt like shooting fish in a barrel and once more I decided that good-looking guys have no business at all trying to talk about approach anxiety. They don’t understand how incredibly easy they have it when girls are visibly checking them out.

Every open I did I felt bulletproof from the first moment.

After four days of picking warm targets I actually completely lost interest in pure cold approach. I told my wing, “I’m not gonna approach blind. I might as well use this novel situation as an opportunity to practice warm approach game. Finally I’ve got enough sets to be able to collect real data and try different things.” When I did contemplate a blind open (i.e. the girl gave no indication whatsoever that she’s be amenable to stopping) I was reminded of the need for a bit of character strength and thought “fuck that, why bother?”

I can understand why good-looking guys weasel out of genuine cold approach and settle for a -2 point hypergamy deficit. When you’re used to sliding downhill into pussy, climbing mountains becomes pretty unappealing. I wasn’t happy about taking the easy route. Not that I want game to be tough but I felt like I was underselling myself by going after what was easy rather than what I wanted. A hot well-put together girl walked past me in an underground mall and I felt that DNA tug. This would be completely cold.

  • No IOI. She hadn’t even noticed my existence.
  • No spider sense. She was walking briskly towards the bus stop, obviously having just finished work.
  • No softners in her style. She was smartly dressed in expensive well-coordinated clothes.
A lot like this

Her later selfies looked a lot like this, at first

There was no reason at all to suppose she liked me or would like being stopped. Okay, that’s the blind approach I need to discipline myself. I was expecting to get a figurative splash of cold water across the face but I followed her anyway. She was moving fast, already halfway up the escalator and I didn’t catch up until street level at her bus stop. I talk a lot about the Russian Minute but I rarely get it anymore. These days they all either walk off immediately or smile and start eye-spazzing. This girl reminded me of the more difficult times as she looked stone-cold, expressionless and answered everything with clipped polite language. She actually said “what do you want?”

Not to be deterred I ploughed on and she softened. Two minutes in she said “My bus comes now” so I took a number. Mentally, it was filed in the going-nowhere box. Nonetheless I send out my feeler the next day. Surprisingly, she agreed to coffee with little preamble. I figured she wasn’t much of a texter when she didn’t bite on the banter fodder I threw out. She quickly snatched the frame and my heart sank. When a girl starts switching plans or telling you where she wants to go it’s a pretty good sign that she’s going to waste your time or start a frame war.

Click for full size

Right click and open in new tab if you want to read the red commentary

Thing is, if it’s the latter you might actually fuck her. Nobody kicks a dead dog and girls don’t frame-war a guy they are uninterested in. I decided I was willing to invest an hour in coffee to find out which. I didn’t have a lot of date action going on at the time. I started to lean towards the frame-war interpretation when she remained in contact and felt sufficiently accountable to me that kept me up to date with her status. Not a big sign, but moving in the right direction.

The date itself was straight out of my 2012 experiences in the Balkans. High value girl, fairly mainstream, intelligent, strong-willed and unwilling to surrender the frame without a strong test. I know greyhounds so I knew the battle-plan. Ten minutes into the date I’d given up on the squirrel/cat strategies of spiking them silly or turning on the secret society sleaze. This girl was probably Suspicious On and was going to insist I jump through some hoops first. I could either accept that (at the risk of having my time wasted) or walk. What wouldn’t work is trying to crush her frame and move it along fast.

Fortunately she was a pleasure to talk to, had decent English, and had planned a nice walk through the park to finish in a good cafe. It’s not losing the frame to let a girl in her hometown give you a mini-tour of some places she likes. I played along to enjoy the new sights and deployed my Most Interesting Man In The World Game. It really felt like 2012. My objectives were simple, in chronological order:

Settle into a comfortable vibe -> Display MIMITW value -> Let her kick the tires -> Qualify her -> Go for kiss.

I didn’t care if I got the kiss this date. This was a case of soft physical escalation because she was going to judge me as a value proposition rather than a spur-of-the-moment adventure. Everything about her showed her forebrain was in full control, chaperoning her hindbrain like a Victorian aunt. She never eye sparkled, her laughter was dinner-party-like, and when she allowed me to kino-test her fingers and hair she looked at me like a ballroom dancer being led through steps she’s already studied.

I felt her warming to me and could almost here her private checklist being ticked off. But what I didn’t know is if the final score would add up to “okay hindbrain, I’m going to leave you two alone now”. There were a number of frame-control tests that I just instinctively passed such as her wandering off a bit, leaving long silences, asking direct questions and so on. It didn’t feel the slightest bit impolite. It was more like Duelling Banjos where she was the city slicker throwing out some challenge chords and I was the retarded hillbilly kid smashing them back with interest until we were both ready to jam.

It started raining and after an hour I had to make my excuses to go, setting a limit on my time. I knew I couldn’t escalate my way to an answer on the “is she a timewaster” question – not on this date. Instead I had to make my move and allow the bubble to burst. If she allowed me to reblow the bubble over texting the next day, it would be a successful date. So as we walked through the park to her bus stop I did the “See that lampost? That’s where I’ll kiss you” move and she deftly eluded three kiss close attempts. I didn’t try too hard. She’d got the message. The retarded hillbilly kid had run up and down the scales, now it was up to her.

Every group of men has it’s “ladies man”

November 22, 2015
krauserpua

Let me relate a story to you that my Brazilan friend and former RSG Bastard told of his early days in London game.

On rolling up in England, Fernando found a job as a tradesman working on commercial properties in central London. While he was back at base with the various carpenters, joiners, electricians and so on they’d quite naturally banter on the shopfloor and while snatching cigarette breaks in the delivery bays. One such colleague – let’s call him Franco – was known as the ladies man. Every Monday without fail he’d have a good story from the weekend of drinking, carousing, and sometimes depravity.

The men had come to look forward to his stories. It took the edge off being back at work for another week.

Fernando was an eager listener. Franco was getting hammered in bars and making out with girls, sometimes taking them home and other times sharing a knee-trembler in the back alley behind the nightclub. There were stories of wives, nurses, tarts….. all of them eye-popping. Franco knew how to tell a story and these ones rang true. Damn, it sounded great being a ladies man, Fernando thought, but it’s so alien to my own life: work, sleep, a few beers with friends.

As readers of my Balls Deep memoir know, Fernando read the Neil Strauss book and decided to try this Game thing. He attended a PUAtraining bootcamp in London (there wasn’t much else out there at the time) and then tried daygame. A few sessions in he saw me number close a hot girl and came introduced himself. We became friends very quickly and Fernando “got it” faster than I did.

Skip forwards a year or so and Fernando finally decides to tell his workmates his own saucy stories, of pulling two Polish blondes out of a Lodz nightclub so he and fellow RSG Bastard Ace can fuck them. Of a couple of girls in Vilnius, Lithuania. Of a girl he pulled home from a salsa night in Clapham. Finally, he felt like he could swap stories with Franco on level-terms. He was becoming a bit of a ladies man himself.

Monday morning during the first cigarette break, he tells his story. There’s a pause…. how will Franco take it? He takes a drag on his cigarette, looks out into space and laughs.

“Haha, nice one mate! Give the next girl one from me!” he says, giving Fernando a friendly pat on the back.

Next week Fernando has another story, of near miss with a tall black girl he met outside Covent Garden underground station. Then another one the week after. And another. Swapping stories every Monday morning, Fernando and Franco are bonding over the shared experiences. Then the bomb drops.

Fernando is regalling the boys with his latest story, another Polish conquest. They all stand in a huddle by the cargo doors because it’s windy. One of the plumbers pipes up.

“Was she hot, mate?”

“Actually” Fernando thinks aloud, “I’ve probably got a photo of her. She’s on my Facebook now” and she opens the app to scroll through. “Right, this is her” he says and pans the screen around the group.

Franco drops his cigarette in disbelief.

“Wait…. wait…. that’s the kind of bird you’re fucking?” he almost stammers.

“Yeah. Come on, you must have a few dirty photos of your birds, you horny bastard” Fernando replies.

“Yeah, Franco. Show us!” encourage the group of eager lads. “You’re the ladies man”

There’s a long silence.

“Um. I’d rather not” he replies.

This is a true story, though I’ve embellished the dialogue. Fernando said it was one of the moments he knew he’d arrived in Game. You can read more about him on his blog here.

Kiev Diaries

November 19, 2015
krauserpua

“I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key” Winston Churchill, 1st October 1939

There was something in the air during my October trip to Kiev. A couple of months earlier I’d taken my first trip out and been reasonably impressed over the ten days – nice city centre architecture, lively atmosphere, pretty girls, decent reactions on the street. However I’d come away scratching another location off my quest for Pussy Paradise. In some respects it was like sitting in the front row of a Victoria Secrets catwalk show – just because hot lithe girls are parading a few feet away in tight clothes does not mean you’re any closer to fucking them than if you were in an igloo in Greenland watching it over a flickering TV signal. I fucked a very hot 17yr old but she was an extreme outlier. Eddie fucked a pretty girl and she was also an extreme outlier. My other (anonymous) buddy fucked a MILF and she was also an extreme outlier. Tom had been a few months earlier and done the same thing.

Sigh, yet another game of “find the outlier”.

An outlier, yesterday

An outlier, yesterday

Things were different in October. For a start it was cold and rainy, so the streets never had that lets-just-hang-out-because-it’s-fun-to-be-here vibe for the hot girls and the men who chase them. Most of the time the girls were hurrying to be somewhere and trying to keep their street time to a minimum. Gone were the summer days of girls just sitting around on kerbs eating ice cream, gazing absently into space. It also meant that being on the streets took a little out of us because it was so cold.

You’d think that would translate into a shitty daygame trip, but no. It was weird.

For some reason I’d accidentally sprayed on Pussy Catnip and my experience was like the fantasy of the Lynx deodorant advert. For the first five days I was constantly IOI’d. Any given day I’d get at least thirty of them, some of which were head-turning tongue-hanging-out mong looks from younger-hotter-tighter girls. Pretty much every set hooked strong and my phone rapidly filled up. I thought to myself, “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to smash this town!”

My new street game, infield photo

My new street game, infield photo

Alas, it was not to be. I was instead about to get a lesson in the iron self-discipline of Ukranian girls in sticking to their boyfriend script. If Warsaw/Krakow metrics applied, I think I’d have gotten laid every single night of my trip. Instead I banged two new girls. Both hot, both young but also both a pain in the arse to close*. So I was getting half of Pussy Paradise:

Warsaw: Few IOIs, few hotties, but all of them are dirty whores ready to go fast.
Ukraine: Many IOIs, many hotties, but all of them patient value-extractors taking it slow.

It was like getting served a cup of tea without the milk and sugar. What’s the point of that? [or for Americans, it was like getting peanut butter without the jelly]. Many thoughts went through my mind during the first week of the trip. Once the initial disbelief at my reactions died down, I thought:

  • This is what it’s like to be Steve Jabba, where literally half the girls in a town get wet just looking at you. I can pick and choose my opens according to who I like best and gives the strongest IOI. No need for a cold approach.
  • It wasn’t like this in August
  • Why can’t it always be like this? It’s so easy and so much fun.
  • What is different that’s causing such a change in pre-open IOIs and the solid hooks?

My brain was working overtime to figure out if there was a way to bottle the magic. By the second week when the flaking epidemic hit, I was wondering if there was in fact any magic to bottle, or if it was fools gold. I still don’t know the answer but I do know the reactions were so extreme and so consistent that there was something different going on. Now I must stress that my end-result laycount was no different to a normal trip. Two girls in three weeks. That’s at the low end of what I consider a decent trip. In Serbia and Belarus trips I’ve trebled that before without resorting to barrel-scraping. Here are my unstructured, unpolished thoughts on what might’ve been going on.

  1. I’d gotten back into the gym and gained about eight pounds of muscle in 2015 while keeping body fat constant (a bit fat, but not fatter). While in August I had to wear t-shirts and shorts due to the heat, in October I could layer up with a leather jacket so I gained all the advantage of the muscle mass without any of the disadvantages of looking a bit thick around the middle. So, a girl’s initial once-over to clock my body shape was more favourable now.
  2. My fashion was back to my Overkill style – leather bike jacket, open shirt, t-shirt, accessories, jeans, leather boots, hat. It really stood out against the local men. I literally didn’t see anyone who dressed anything like me. So, my shiniess worked better in cold weather.
  3. My vibe was absolutely glowing. From the very first day I was in a great mood and the constant stream of good reactions and IOIs just snowballed it. I felt extremely attractive. It felt like walking into a nightclub knowing you’re the best-looking guy there. My cold approach game has been honed through five years of being sexually invisible until I open my mouth. It was nice to play the game on easy mode like a good-looking guy and my vibe responded to create a virtuous spiral.
  4. My face and body language were extremely open and pure. I never felt like I was wearing a mask or trying to project a certain emotion. I just walked around feeling great and let that radiate outwards. It felt like I’d been carefully cleaning and polishing the lense on my movie projector for years and now it was time to spool the reels and see an image projected with perfect fidelity. Non-players don’t appreciate that this isn’t “being yourself” or “dropping game”. It’s the opposite. Rejecting game / behaviour modelling / identity change means you just lazily whip out your dirty cracked lense and expect the audience to be happy with the shitty image on screen.
  5. I always followed the principles of my game, but I frequently abandoned the prescriptive model. I’d open girls by shouting at them from ten metres away: “Hey you! Miserable looking girl with the black coat. Stop!” (that was a catwalk model idate – but went nowhere). I’d open by pointing and not saying a word. I even opened three sets. Nothing mattered because I was in full flow and riffing off all the lessons I’d internalised.

But of course despite the unbelievable strength of my initial reactions, things dropped off sharply when it came to getting laid and I was right back to the usual results. Why is that? The major drop off came in two stages. Almost every girl replied to my feeler text but very few came out on dates. Frustratingly, many would keep up a fun flirty exchange, send me (not dirty) photos and then literally just not reply when I sent the date invitation. A few girls messaged me things like “I’m on Khreshatyk street now, let’s meet!” and then when I replied “Ok, outside McDonalds in 15 minutes?” they literally didn’t reply for several days. The other major drop-off came on the date when I went for a kiss. Incredibly, I only kissed four girls, and three of them ended up naked on my bed. The rest rebuffed the kiss.

My daygame face, October

My daygame face, October

This is what I think. Again, I’m not sure. The whole experience was like Bizarro World where nothing meant the same as it would mean in any other city I’ve been to.

  1. I was plugging directly into a girls hindbrain on the street and frying her circuits. This meant I was getting massive attraction from No Girls just from the power of my presence. They’d love it, lap it up, and then return to No Girl status when they cooled down back home. As I write in Daygame Mastery, good street game will make timewasters out of No Girls that would simply blow out a guy with shit game. That’s why you should always be highly suspicious of men with high number-to-date ratios. They are doing pure Yes Girl filtering, punching below their weight.
  2. My extreme shininess was inducing No Girls to let themselves come out for coffee Day 2 / idates as a diversion to their otherwise routine lives. Many of them had study, homework and part-time jobs so they really don’t do much else any given week. The girls would enjoy the date, thank me for coffee, and go back to their lives unfucked. They knew if they tried to extend it to a second date they’d have to start putting out because I’d subcommunicated my unwillingness to be strung along. So they cashed in their small winnings rather than risk getting fucked while trying to increase their stack of attention chips.
  3. That same shininess and horniness is why the text exchanges dropped off. They loved the process until the moment they were forced to get off the fence. Being conflict avoidant, girls would rather ghost you than give an overt “no thanks” reply.
  4. A bunch of girls were attracted to me and available but they wanted a boyfriend. I quickly formed the impression that Kiev girls are either gold-digging bitches (a tiny proportion overall, but vastly more than in any other city) or straight-laced village good girls. The date became a subtle frame-control battle where they held out for me to audition as boyfriend and when I refused, they disengaged because they’d rather have nothing than have casual sex with a stranger. It was all at a I-know-that-you-know level. I set out my stall and she decided the product warranty wasn’t comprehensive enough. I was unwilling to invest additional time in D3s, D4s etc because once the freshness of the first hour with a new girl wears off, dating bores me now. I’d rather just play a video game.

Kiev has a reputation for being a tough city to get laid in (for free). I can go along with that. Most reports are that you get a ton of harsh blow outs while filtering for the rare outlier Yes Girl. I can believe that too. It never happened to me but I saw it happen to most others. I think I reached a higher level of failure – almost non stop good reactions and getting my eventual “No” further down the line.

A typical reaction to m street stop

A typical reaction to my street stop

So, based on my two trips I’m rating Kiev about the same level as Belgrade in that it’s painful and demoralising for beginners (stick to Prague or Berlin guys), a ton of work for rare but decent reward for intermediates, and an addictive mirage for advanced guys who get to sit front row for the Victoria Secrets show close enough to smell their panties but not able to sample the goods as much as you think you’re going to.

I’ll solve the puzzle. For now I’ve opened the enigma and unwrapped the mystery, but the riddle remains.

* I define “pain in the arse to close” as “didn’t display willingness to jump into bed with me two hours after we met”. These days, if I get any kind of resistance to my escalation I switch off and lose interest. I can’t help it. I think it’s my subconscious trying to tell me to stop being a player. I’ll write about it sometime because I think this is probably the biggest negative impact on my 2015 results – I rarely give a shit about the girl in front of me and she smells it. While I still really enjoy the street (probably due to the constant novelty of each girl), everything else gets boring if it doesn’t go exactly my way on exactly my timetable.  It’s probably some kind of notch-fatigue. Like Jimmy said to me recently, “Nick, you’ve fucked enough girls.”

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…..

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…..

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