Gamers game, players interact

February 18, 2010

Perhaps 99% of the population misunderstands boxing. It can drive me mad because there are few things as annoying as belligerent ignorance. Fighting is right up there with pulling chicks and politics as a subject where every Tom, Dick and Harry is convinced they “get it” yet they are painfully and demonstrably wrong. About everything. Allow me to offer some of the more retarded boxing expertise I’ve suffered lately:

“Mike Tyson was the greatest heavyweight ever, in his prime. If he hadn’t gone to prison he’d have been champ for years.”

“Muhammad Ali was the greatest.”

“Roy Jones was tremendously skilled.”

Allow me to demolish these retarded statements and then I’ll get to the point. Tyson was an expert can opener – meaning he looked sensational against third-rate guys (“tomato cans”) who were terrified of him. But boxing is not about your record or how many wins you have – it’s about who you beat. Tyson didn’t beat top level fighters. Partly this was bad luck through entering his prime in the late 1980s when everyone was shit. So he beat Pinklon Thomas, Trevor Berbick, Tony Tucker and other low quality heavies. The only two top guys he beat in his initial run were a washed up Larry Holmes and a terrified, injured, outsized Michael Spinks. Whoopee. He ducked George Foreman because he knew stylistically Big George would murder him. He got sent down before Evander Holyfield could do him. The harsh reality is this: every guy who hit Iron Mike back, knocked him out. History will show he was a busy, short-armed fighter who had a short prime but could only fight while “on top” and only against guys who didn’t interupt his combinations.

A regular occurence

Ali was a prick. He was so tremendously gifted with his chin, speed, co-ordination, and reflexes that he never had to learn to box properly. In his pre-Vietnam career he just outslicked the lesser opposition, and beat Sonny Liston cos he was old, slow and his primary two weapons (freaky power, intimidating person) were ineffective against a cocky iron-chinned Ali. So it was easy for the fast Ali to dance around the plodding Liston. Post-Vietnam Ali was much better but relied extensively on soaking up punishment, flicking jabs, and gift decisions. But to give him credit – judged by who he beat, he beat the best crop of heavyweights there’s ever been. Still, he was no Joe Louis or Jack Dempsey, or even Rocky Marciano.

RJJ was nature’s sick joke. The guy had unbelievable natural gifts. Lightning hand speed, laser-guided coordination, Neo-like reflexes. So he coasted through his entire career and never learned the skills. Go dig up copies of Ring magazine (or Boxing News) from the mid-90s and you’ll see the same thing repeated time after time: “Roy is so talented but when is he going to stop handpicking safe opponents and actually fight someone for real?” The pre-Tarver version of Jones only had three significant opponents: (1) An undersized and inexperienced Bernard Hopkins who fought competitively but couldn’t overcome the speed difference (2) A severely weight-drained James Toney who was never troubled but couldn’t catch up to Jones (3) A pitiful John Ruiz at heavyweight – Roy’s only brilliant performance.

So what happens when Roy gets old and loses the reflexes? He gets tooled by absolutely everyone. Because he never had world-class boxing skill.


Where does this link in to game?

Tyson is the classic no-game plower. He tramples into a club and hits on all the girls always the same way and keeps on them until they relent. Always the lower quality girls, always ones who are vulnerable in some way (lonely, 30+, drunk, slutty etc). A can-opener. He gets laid plenty but never with hot girls. He has one-dimension that he gradually refines and it works for him within the limitations he has unconsciously set himself. Not an all-time great.

Ali is the cocky natural. He’s born with advantages and his strength of character was there before he starting hitting on girls. He’s come up the normal way, getting girls through school and university – gradually upgrading the quality of girl as his skills improve. He does lots of things wrong (or more accurately  sub-optimally) but he’s biffing quality girls and draws people to him. His style works for him but he wouldn’t know how to teach it. As he ages his gifts decline and he starts missing where he used to hit. His raw character continues to keep him in with a shot at a fairly high level. It’s a slow decline over many years and he still retires (marries) at a decent level.

RJJ is the poseur. He’s born with incredible gifts such as a handsome face, athletic body and a nice smile. So long as he puts a little effort in at the gym and spends a bit of cash on clothes he attracts women right through his prime. He never has to learn game. He never has to cold approach and then develop interesting conversation and methodical kino. He’s so damn good-looking that a high proportion of girls will jump on his cock regardless. But this is still only a proportion. If a girl doesn’t respond well initially he doesn’t know what to do. So he can never choose the girl he wants, he can only choose from the pool of girls who have IOI’d him. In his 20s this is still a world of abundance. As he ages and life sucks his mojo away, he gets less IOIs and he stalls. He starts suffering the metaphorical knockouts.

So if these guys are all successful but limited, what is the boxing analogy for the successful and unlimited guy?

Gentleman, I present James “Lights Out” Toney.

Old School Personified

This guy came up the hard way. He had talent of course, but his pure boxing skills were learned in the gym through blood, sweat and tears. He learned to slip, to bob, to shoulder roll. He learned what is the correct position to stand in and where to hold your hands no matter what was happening. He learned to defend with foot movement and when feet are planted. He learned everything there is to learn about boxing and then he took tough fights on the way up to master it.

Watch Toney fight. He is always in full command. His ring generalship is second to none. He isn’t blinding the opponents with handspeed or flurries that mostly miss (RJJ, I’m looking at you), he isn’t soaking up punishment (Ali) or relying on overwhelming one-shot power (Tyson). He is standing there in the pocket and using superior timing, distance, body position and punch selection. It is mental superiority expressed physically. This is why even as a fat, 37-yr old middleweight he absolutely mullered that same John Ruiz for the heavyweight title. It’s why he could stand in front of the Samuel Peter behemoth twice when Toney’s natural division is 168lbs and Peter’s is 240lbs.

How you like them apples?

To boil the difference down to a single point: There are two types of boxer. Boxer One has his thing and he is going to do that thing, no matter what the opponent is doing. If he is good at the left jab-straight right-left hook combo he is gonna keep throwing it and seeing what sticks. Boxer Two is constantly reacting to his opponent, learning how he moves, and creating the openings to score. He is interacting.

Boxer One fights like it is two bulls running headfirst into each other. Boxer Two is like a dancer spinning his partner around.

Boxer One is like the 100m sprinter where every race is simply “run as fast as I can till its finished” whereas Boxer Two is like the tennis player whose every shot is based on how best to move the guy on the other side of the net.

Gamers game, players interact.

A gamer has his opener, his routine stack, and his close. He will run this shit mechanically on every girl he meets. When it sticks, he gets laid and pats himself on the back. When it fails, he moves on. He will get laid, but not as much as he could. Most of the time he’s firing his peashooter against a tank.

A player knows the principles of game and tailors the interaction to the girl. He processes her feedback and amends his game on the fly. He knows how to move her around and generate the desired responses. It is a two-way process, a delicate dance in which he leads and she follows.

It’s easiest to start as a gamer. It’s fun and it works. But if you are serious about transforming yourself into a high value man, keep your eyes on the goal – become a player.

Two days in a row

February 17, 2010

It’s amazing how taking even a short time out from regular sarging can blunt your game. I suppose it’s like playing sport and coming back from the off season. Yesterday was an ok day but so many things felt unnatural. I’m back out again on Sunday 7th February with Wisdom and Suave.

Initially my plan is to blow every set by just pushing outrageous sexual escalation until I get dismissed – a social experiment to push boundaries of what my mind believes is possible. I’m fairly amped up so when I see HB7 Teen ambling down the street I open. She’s got the harajuku girl vibe with black’n’white hooped tights, Hello Kitty bag and other Japanese teen fashion though she’s obviously English. She stops well and quickly acquires a deer in the headlights startled stare. She’s tingling and IOIing but totally overwhelmed. My opener:

Krauser: Your tights are really striking. You’ve got a whole harajuku vibe here

HB7: Thank you

Krauser: My ex was Japanese. I used to love fucking her in the park near Harajuku.

HB7: Umm…. *pussy tingle leg cross*

Krauser: I’m out shopping for a panda right now, for my little nephew. He loves animals and wants to hug everything. I think it’s Disney that’s caused it. What’s that movie, the one where the cartoon zoo animals get lost and end up in the jungle?…. the one with the mafia penguins and cultist meerkats….

HB7: Um…. *hair twirl*

Krauser: Madagascar! I knew it *pull her in side on, hug, push her away. Her feet are rooted to the spot like she can’t move and doesn’t know what to do* You know pandas don’t fuck, right? [run panda stack]. Anyway, how old are you?

HB7: Eighteen

Krauser: Really? I haven’t fucked an eighteen year old for a while now. Cool.

HB7: Umm…..

It’s a weird set, like really weird, because her logical mind has got to be freaking out but her feet don’t move, there’s no body-rocking or motioning away, and she is just locked into my rape eyes like the eye contact itself has her chained to the spot. Very educational on my side. I probably could’ve got something out of this but I start to lose my nerve towards the end and let her go. Benefit of hindsight I never should’ve asked for her number cause that totally broke the sexual frame – should’ve just frogmarched her to a pub and see what happens [because of her age I wouldn’t feel right getting genuine isolation, it would feel like bullying, but a dark pub would be fine cos she would always know she can eject]. As I walk back to the boys I realise that my audio cut out ten seconds in so I’m gutted this one isn’t recorded for posterity. We have video but its far off and shitty quality.

Next I open a HB6 Czech and she gives me the “I’m meeting a friend in a minute” FTC which I parry and end up in set for about 7 minutes. She’s nice and chatty and I definitely hook good but then blow it with a number close gambit that reeks of beta. What the hell was I thinking? I see the attraction in her eyes die out immediately. I recover by immediately apocalypsing HB6 Thai but she’s not talkative and I’m stacking poorly. I think she’s just shit testing me to see if I can follow up the opener, but I can’t. She’s polite about it.

I decide to try a new opener. It’s meant for alpha girls – those tall bitchy Russians who storm along the pavement with mega bitch shields. I see a girl who fits the bill reasonably close, HB8 Brit. I jump in front with strongly insistent body language and no smile:

Krauser: Hey, hey. HEY! *point* Stop.

HB8: *stops*

Krauser: I think you owe me and apology.

HB8: *looks at me like I’m mad, but some doubt creeps in like maybe she’s done something wrong*

Krauser: I was just standing there, telling my friend a story. *points* Thenyou come right past, and you’re so hot I completely forget what I was saying to him. *smirk*

HB8: *gets it, smiles*

Krauser: So, you owe me an apology. For being hot.

It doesn’t hook, but she does walk off smiling. I immediately try it on another girl but it’s totally miscalibrated because she’s just an HB7 and is ambling along aimlessly with a light smile. This one is only gonna work on the tough girls. I’ll field test it a bit more before I buy into it. Took some balls to do it.

A bit later I see HB7 Brazil go past with a face like a smacked arse. She looks really sour and pissed off. I open direct but immediately reference her mood, then break her state and lead her to a fun vibe. She hooks good and laughs alot but I miss a few opportunities and after two minutes I’m losing the attraction. I get her Facebook (and she accepts the add later that evening) but it’s an uphill plow and I’ve probably lost the set.  I did get good audio to analyse and some interesting learning points – its a social experiment first and foremost.

My LTR calls to say she’s back in England, and then I open two more sets. A Brit 2-set fails to hook. I get some back luck when just as I open they were splitting into two different directions so I’m standing in between them and they are five feet apart with momentum going opposite directions. The bigger mistake was I opened them on a street that’s full of chuggers and Big Issue sellers and I didn’t distinguish myself from them – their immediate impression would’ve been I’m trying to sell something.

Last set of the day is fun. HB6 Brazil is wandering out of the indoor market and I open direct. We chat about five minutes and she’s laughing and IOIing. Sauve is the other side of the market doing his own video and with my phone for audio so I don’t capture this. Good set but again I DLV like a beta when I go for the number. It was right there for the taking.

A couple of days later I’m round at Jambone’s house and we analyse the audio. His advice is:

– I’m too smooth and energetic so the sub-communication is that I’m a guy that’s done this hundreds of times before, or a TV guy doing a show. I need to inject some nervousness and awkward pauses / undirected comments.

– I’m too explicit in the number close. I should qualify her and take Facebook details, then transition it to a number almost off-hand while I chat as I imput the Facebook.

– I don’t pick up on leads the girl gives on topics she wants to talk about. I tend to steamroller through with what I want to talk about. Several times girls gave me strong hook points for topics I could’ve explored and get a connection with her and I let them pass.

– Tease more. I am teasing, but it needs to be more fun and more of it.

– Slow down. I talk too fast. Whereas I used to talk too fast because I was nervous, now it’s because I’m excitable and full of energy. Either way, I shold slow down.

I should’ve had three more numbers today. Hook point was reached, attraction was there, but I DLV’d myself out of it. Live and learn.

Wolfman game

February 16, 2010

Valentines day was same old, same old for me. I’d forgotten all about it but arranged to meet the LTR on Saturday night anyway to go to some weird S&M club. I don’t like all that gimp latex shit but the website showed people just dressing up in non-gimp extravagance so I thought I’d finally gotten an excuse to wear my new coat.

Only one in London I'll bet

Massive queue to collect our tickets and then the half-male battleaxe on the door won’t let me in. Jeans not allowed she says. I watch others get let in wearing jeans. Not sure what’s up cos the jeans is obviously a pretext and seeing as I have a hot girl on my arm it’s not a boy/girl ratio issue. Hmmmmm. Guess I should’ve bought a gimp suit after all. Having just been DLV’d in front of the LTR I know what will follow, mechanically. 10….. 9….. 8….. 7….. 6….. 5….. 4….




Shit test.

HB Romania: You’re not cool enough to get in. Hahaha.

Krauser: Bunch of fat gimpy cunts.

HB Romania: I’m cool. I could get in. You’re soooo not cool.

Krauser: *silence*

HB Romania: Look, they are getting in with jeans.

Krauser: * offloads tickets on Jambone, whose friends are coming without tickets. Gets money back. Grabs LTR and walks off * I don’t want to go in now. I’m fucked if I’m begging to give a club my patronage. Come on, we’re going to [private members club] * grab LTR, start walking *

I should probably add I’d banged her just before we left for the club. I hadn’t particularly enjoyed it and something about her manner had annoyed me. Can’t quite say what. It seems too early to be tiring of a girl of this quality. She starts hitting me with her handbag (not hard) and whining that I’d said something rude about her as I said goodbye to Jambone. Bullshit, I didn’t say anything of the sort.

HB Romania: You were so rude.

Krauser: When?

HB Romania: You know. Just there, when we left. You said you were going to do something. It was offensive.

Krauser: No it wasn’t.

HB Romania: It was.

Krauser: What did I say?

HB Romania: You know.

Krauser: No I don’t. What did I say?

HB Romania: *won’t say [because she can’t]. changes subject*

We get a taxi. We are barely a hundred yards away when she does a variation of the “you’re not cool enough to get in” line for about the fifteenth time. Without looking at her, I say “Say that again and I’m leaving you here and going home”. There’s a sharp intake of breath and she tries to challenge me: “Are you serious?”. I slowly turn to look at her and hold eye contact: “Yes”. I turn back. She shuts the fuck up and not another peep out of her. Silence in the cab for ten minutes till we get to our destination. Then as we exit I grab her hand and continue conversation like the whole episode never happened. She plays along. End of shit test. She’s crawling all over me in the bar and later at my place.

This was the first shit test she’d thrown out where I had to clearly communicate a willingness to walk away and move on to the next girl. It reinforces an iron rule of LTRs: DLV infront of your woman and a shit test follows with mechanical predictability.

The next morning we sleep in till noon and then I fuck her. We go into town for milkshakes and then I decide to watch The Wolfman with her. There is no Valentines frame at all. No cards, no chocolate, no dinner date and absolutely no supplication. A few times she tries to rally and shit test me again. Nominally it’s because when I was fucking her I looked into her eyes and asked “How does it feel to be fucked by an arsehole?”

HB Romania: You made me feel uncomfortable earlier

Krauser: *non-committal grunt*

She tries it a few more times but the grunt kills the thread and the rest of the time she is her usual self, holding onto my arm and enjoying being led around. The movie is fun and I come away having learned alot about body language from Benecio Del Toro. He starts out pretty alpha but with a nice-guy strength frame. After the werewolf bites him he makes a host of subtle changes that subcommunicate a bestial dominance. My two favourite scenes are:

Grieving but determined - Early in movie

(i) Sitting slouched in a leather chair with a glass of whiskey he fends off the investigating policeman, while his attack dog sits loyally at his side. His posture and particularly his facial expression project an inner wildness.

(ii) Late at night before his first transformation he walks into the leading lady’s room. It’s a slow powerful walk that commands the entire room. His presence is at once dominant and barely controlled primal urges.

Coming out the cinema I tell the LTR I’m gonna become a wolfman and the rest of the day I slow my movements right down, every action is carried out like I’m on the verge of ripping bystanders limb from limb, and I move the girl around lots while I remain centred. The next day at work it’s raining so I have on my Van Helsing jacket to walk to work. I decide to play Wolfman again. My mind fills with imagery of a savage world and I hold that state as I walk around. The experiment is to see if by holding this state internally then the external subcommunication follows.

It’s funny. People start getting out of my way. Twice beta guys hold doors open for me at a far greater distance than is conventionally necessary. A few girls turn heads. These are not outlandish changes, just small subtle things that suggest I might be on to something.

It’s just playful stuff, but I hatch an idea. I will collect a range of alpha movie scenes congruent with the wildman image and study them. Find out how Del Toro projects how he does.

This is day game!

February 14, 2010

Friday 12th February, 2010 in Covent Garden.

Eight months ago I did my first ever day game approach. I was shitting myself. I didn’t know what to say and I had no idea how to move the interaction forwards. The subtle arts of body language, hooking, NLP, stacking were all mysteries to me. Over the past eight months and 400 approaches I’ve hit the streets day after day.

I grinded this shit out. I’ve had moments of inspiration in the glorious sunshine of a summer afternoon. I’ve also trudged shambolically through wind, rain and snow to make sure I got my approaches in no matter what. Never once did I doubt that every flaw is fixable. Never once did I let the seeds of doubt stop me taking right action. Even when I was really struggling. Even when I couldn’t hook sets much less close them.

Sometimes you run an approach and you surprise even yourself. You look back at all the progress made, all of the distance covered and you realise you are getting good. You feel the tremendous satisfaction of claming a hard earned reward.

I had such a set on Friday. And I caught it on video with simulataneous audio. Heh!

Everybody has this inside them. It took me eight months and 400 approaches to find it. This is why I do daygame.

What I want in a man

February 11, 2010

My mother is in the habit for forwarding me office joke emails, especially on the nature of male/female relations. Being a close-to-retirement “progressive” she is dripping in misandry without even realising it. I’ve told her to stop sending me these things and every time I get some of this misandrist bullshit in my mailbox I send her a brutal rejoinder. But she won’t fucking stop doing it. Today’s mail was the usual shopping list bullshit of what a woman wants in a man.

I’ll not bother fisking it. It’s not especially anti-male, just lame and supportive of a misandrist frame. Just read it. Here’s my rejoinder – posted here because it is game related and I think summarises what you are looking to trigger in a target:

What I want in a man (pre-hitting the wall, so about <30 yrs old)
1. Makes my pussy tingle
2. That’s it.
3. OK, I should define that only criminals, bartenders, bikers, gang members and arseholes actually trigger the tingle.
4. Every other man should FUCK RIGHT OFF before I call the cops/HR/white knights and accuse you of sexual harrassment or rape. Nobody gets between me and my bad-boys!

What I want in a man (about to hit the wall, so 30-34 yrd old)
1. Good job, nice house
2. Will be my doormat and suffer my vanity
3. No balls. Preferably literally so I don’t have to have sex with this loser. I want to cuckhold him with a bad-boy’s child, if I can find any of them who’ll still fuck my aging old ass.
4. Extreme naivete from having been involuntarily celebate since he left university

What I want in a man (hit the wall, 34+)
1. Please please will somebody look at me. I’m intelligent, I’m witty, I’m independent, I have a successful career. I’m confident!!!!
2. No really…. hello…… somebody?????
3. This never happened to Carrie Bradshaw. Oh fuck, that was fiction wasn’t it.

4. Where do I buy a cat?

I take my video camera in field

February 7, 2010

Saturday 6th February and I’m meeting up with Wisdom and Suave in Covent Garden to shoot a few in field videos. I’m full of cold and stayed home all of friday cos of it but when I want to sarge these things have a habit of receeding. We have high-faluting ambitions of recording audio on our mobile phones and then synching it up to the video later. That doesn’t work. Stupid Nokia files aren’t compatible with stupid Vista. Wisdom has a 1-to-1 tutorial student out too.

My first open is an apocalypse of a petite HB6 Brit Dancer. The open itself works out fine but I stack terribly and ask too many questions. It’s been too long since my last full-on day game session. Nonetheless she’s entertained and happy to chat. Next I apocalypse a 2-set of french tourists. Doesn’t stick at all. But I always enjoy the ludicrousness of this opener. My state is rising and the fun vibe is kicking in. We replay the audio and laugh. Third bite of the cherry comes with HB7 Brit Designer. She hooks good. Check out the video. She’s laughing right away and I move her around lots, get a close and eject.

Wisdom takes his student off cos he’s now ready to go, having seen three sets in action. Suave takes the camera and we head down to the piazza. I open a really cute, fresh-faced HB8 blonde. Really fresh-faced, because she’s got a secret:

Krauser: So it’s a saturday job [she’s on her way to] or is it your main thing? I’d have said you’re a student.

HB8: I’m still at school.

Krauser: School? What, like normal school?

HB8: Yeah, I’m 16.

Krauser: Woah! I’d have said you look at least sixteen and a half *she giggles, I look around mock-nervous* Where’s your dad? Is he watching? *more giggles*

Damn those age of consent laws

I decide to take the Facebook. Doesn’t feel right, or at least not till she’s had one more birthday. She’s less than half my age. But damn she’s hot and she’s giving me super strong eye contact. The girl is turned on. I let her go to work and then Suave opens his first set – number closing a cute brunette. I video it but a technical fault wipes out the file. I open a 2-set of Germans but can’t hook. We head to Trafalgar Square.

Not much happening down there. On the way back up Suave stops another 2-set but can’t hook. I stop HB7 Chilean but she’s in a rush to meet someone and I don’t project enough value to make her late. She gives me two minutes and she takes my card. I’m not counting that as a close. Then I fail to hook HB6 Brit – she’s just fucking miserable from the beginning.

Back at Covent Garden things improve. I get a long ten minute set with HB7 Welsh. She hooks good and I think I’m well in but she just won’t give her number. It really puzzles me because she was invested. See for yourself. And yes, I apologise for the mincing run. Gonna fix that.

There’s no failure, only feedback. Alert readers will compare this set to my succesful number close above and notice some striking differences in the vibe and body language. Comments welcome on a compare and contrast. We finish up the day with a few more sets each. Suave gets another number by chasing down an Italian 2-set that gave him an eye contact approach invitation. I stop another two girls but get early boyfriend defences so don’t bother ploughing. Then the four of us meet up in my favourite Caffe Nero to debrief. Initially I view the day as a bad one, going on my gut feel. But as we debrief I realise my bad days now are better than my good days used to be. On this bad day I achieved:

– Ten approaches in two hours after a two-month lay off.

– Number close HB7 22 yr old, facebook close HB8 16 yr old (could’ve taken number). In set five minutes with each.

– Every single girl I approached stopped and gave me her full attention for long enough to get out the opener. Of those ten, eight stuck around to let me stack.

– Some excellent third-person video footage to review to improve my game.

– Ten minutes in set with difficult girl who eventually opened up and invested. Got both video and audio of this so I can see why I didn’t close her.

– Great fun with good friends.

So I’ll be back out on Sunday. And just so you know I’m not only posting my successes, here’s a montage of every set I botched today. Crappy camera work, but hey.

I spy with my little eye…. an alpha, a beta, an omega

February 4, 2010

Here’s a little game I play when I’m out and about. It’s fun and it develops your eye for social dynamics / viewing the matrix. It’s also good to do with a target on a Day 3 or 4.

Try to spot an alpha.

Become this

It’s much harder than it looks because there are so few of them in the world. You’ll find nearly everyone carries the stink of beta. It’s an eye-opener to identify a man as beta and then watch how he projects it through his posture, his voice tone, his rapport laughter, his qualifying and even the facial muscles as they hold his face in the “please don’t hit me” ingratiating smile. Keep watching, and see how the betas fit into the social hierarchy and how the women walk all over them. Probably 90% of the random dudes you watch will fit this mold.

Then notice the omegas. Look at the fear in their eyes as they constantly find ways to avoid getting into any situation where they might fuck up and be painfully reminded of their low social status. Look at all the self-inflicted loser-ness that their low self-esteem has driven them to – the needless weight gain, the bad greasy hair, the hunched shoulders. Look at their sexual invisibility to girls.

In the beginning you’ll get some false positives as paper alphas and higher betas walk by. You’ll see the corporate big shot who commands his team and exudes leadership, but its all situational and the moment he steps into a bar he’s just another chode. There’s the good looking guy with the gym body, the Ted Baker suit and the Audi TT. He’s not getting the girls because he’s try-hard, looking to society to provide him with his values.

Finally, one of those rare alphas will appear. Watch him. Learn from him. See how he walks with unaffected ease, how his face is sometimes a carefree smile and sometimes a piercing frown. Watch how betas literally step out of his way to let him past and how the girls spontaneously qualify themselves to him. See how in every interaction with strangers he receives the full attention of the group.

Watch and learn, my friends. After a few hours of this you will become very quick at slotting every guy you see into one of the three categories. So quick that you’ll have to sub-divide the categories to keep the game fun.

Now imagine if you’d spent your whole life learning to do this, and your whole future happiness depended upon it. Yes, you’d be as good at this as a woman.