FR: My first day game sarge

September 8, 2009

20th May 2009, around Covent Garden. It’s a glorious day and I am shitting myself. I’ve just been sitting in a Cafe Nero reading Mystery Method that arrived from Amazon the day before. I’m reading about survival and replication value, indirect openers, and the three second rule.

I’m definitely shitting myself. I stay in the comfy sofa-chair way longer than I need to but finally I rouse myself and put on the PUA Wizard hat. I walk through the market towards Neal Street. Several hot girls go past and I chode out. No way do I have the balls to open a moving target.

HB7 Japanese
I walk into a retro clothes shop. I really like Japanese girls, more so than any others. I’ve also got this lingering chode-mind that tells me I should focus on Japanese because I speak Japanese (used to live there) and thus she’d be impressed. Gonna need a prop…. I pick up a shirt, take a deep breath and walk over to her.

Krauser: Hey. Do you think this shirt suits me?
HB7: *smiles, looks* It’s nice

I keep talking. Can’t remember what but my heart is pounding and my hands seem to shake. I’m actually talking to a hot girl I just opened! I manage to talk a few minutes and she’s not running away. I do some clumsy kino by using her hand to draw a map of Kichijoji (a sub-region of Tokyo) when it turns out we both know the area. Uh-oh chode alert – I try way too hard for report. I’m totally uncalibrated and ask her to go for coffee. She politely refuses. I eject.

I am so fucking happy! Totally stoked. I just approached a random girl and didn’t get destroyed.

So obviously I have to find another retro shop. I wander into Rockit. There’s an English HB6 so I blunder in with the same opener. I get a polite answer, brief small talk but she doesn’t hook. Whatever, I’m on a roll!

Now I’m really excited. Hey, do you think I could approach a girl in a different type of shop? Come on Dixons, let’s see what you have. I see an American HB7 looking at some cameras over the counter. I walk up from behind.

Krauser: What you thinking of buying?
HB7: *total surprise* Um, that one.

Total failure. At first she looked at me like I’m a mugger, and then as some low-value uncalibrated tool. And she was right. So I exit and walk down towards Embankment. An HB8 Malaysian is coming up the street towards me. I step across a bit and gesture.

Krauser: Are you someone I should get to know?
HB8: *total shock* Uh *keeps walking*

Yes, I write this several months later and I’m cringing at the chode-ishness of the openers. Quick debrief on the HB8 is I came over threatening by the full-on body language, didn’t smile, didn’t say hi, and gave her no reason to invest enough to answer such a qualifier. But whatever, I managed to solo sarge and do four openers.

I’ve started.

Why I believe in pick up

September 8, 2009

I’d never believed any of this shit.

Not consciously anyway. I figured women were equal, they like nice guys, they want to be respected, they want you to ask their opinions. I figured romantic gestures make their hearts melt.

Of course I’d never actually done any of that lame beta-boy shit. I met my wife in a bar in Old Street while drunk. She’d wandered in with two friends, I’d wandered over and just started spouting inane gibberish at her. But I was super confident, not even vaguely interested in pulling her, and I was surrounded by friends trying to get me to follow them to the next bar.

State. Outcome independence. Social proof.

She listened, she giggled, I busted on her. And finally I allowed her to give me her number. I said I might call but I was pretty busy this week. When we finally met up I took her to a pub for a few hours until my friends arrived, then gave her a kiss and left with them. For the second date I home cooked her some cheap sushi and then fucked her.

Cocky-funny. None-neediness. Escalation.

She semi-flaked on the next date. Some bullshit about her dance class overrunning and not being able to call me till it finished. I told her I’m not taking that shit and she can either come to me on my terms tomorrow or we are done. She came, and I fucked her.

Dominance. Willingness to walk away.

A couple of months later I get my first big shit test. We are getting ready for bed and I’m tired and need to get up early. She says some bullshit, I tell her to shut up. She throws the contents of her Volvic water bottle over me. I go fucking apeshit. I roar upwards, grab the bottle, push her of the bed and shout “Get the fuck out of my house now, you fucking bitch!”. I grab her clothers (she’s bra and panties), thrust them into her arms and push her out the bedroom.

Shock and awe from the woman. She floods the room with tears, apologies, and begs to stay. Her eyes light up with horniness. I magnanamously allow her to stay, putting a towel over the wet sheets and telling her to sleep on the wet side. After twenty minutes I grab her and allow her to cuddle me. No more shit tests for seven years.

Aggression. Wildness. Enforcing boundaries.

I’m reading “The Lay Guide” (which I had to re-order on Amazon) and I’m starting to slot the pieces together. For eight years I had a perfect 10 (she was a model and professional dancer, star athlete in high school, and damn smart too) absolutely blissfully madly in love with me. And is it a coincidence that from the very beginning I’d inadvertently followed all the guiding principles of Game?

I think not.

I heard an analogy recently. A guy gives you a shovel, points to the ground and says “There be diamonds down there”. How deep would you dig? If you think he’s full of shit I’d wager you’d give up after the first few minutes. Contrarily, if you believe him you’d dig for weeks. So long as you have the certainty that the digging will eventually result in diamonds, you’ll dig.

That there is me and pick-up. I know it’s the mother lode. I just have to keep digging.

[UPDATE: I’ve left this post as originally written because it captures the type of anger and bitterness I was holding when I first got into Game. I see the same process all the time with students – the start off angry and gradually mellow out as they make progress on their inner game and start getting good responses from good women.    K]

What’s this all about?

September 8, 2009

[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

A pivotal moment in my life

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.

Do I want my future to be this....

.... or this?