Allow me to offer a juxtaposition between my weekend and my AFC friend’s weekend. The guy in question is 34, earns £150k, works out an hour a day, watches his diet, is honest, loyal, considerate. So a classic beta. I’ve known him since university and genuinely value him as a close friend. Thus it pains me to see him shacked up with an older career woman who dominates him completely while providing very little value in housewifery or her fast-fossilising fallopian tubes.
Thursday – We have an AFC get together in a City bar cos we haven’t all met up for over a month due to various commitments like kids, car servicing, in-law visits, overtime and all the other obstacles between an AFC and his happiness. The bar is typical of the area being a beta hell. Besuited Renfields and corporate drones drink pissy lager at £4 a pop as they try to wash away the banal emptiness of their lives and anaesthetise themselves for the trudge home to a nagging wife or an empty “bachelor pad” that has never seen the light tread of a hottie’s feet. Cackling yentas camp out on the comfortable sofa seats sucking attention and energy from the room, the flabby flesh of their bingo wings spilling out of their sleeveless low cut dresses. My friends chat about their problems and shattered dreams. They are actually quite happy because this is a rare release from the crushing commitments in their lives. They organise a darts game for an upcoming night. It’s tough because schedules fill up weeks in advance and permission from the boss women is required.
I take a call from my hot Romanian girlfriend, who is leaving work to drive for an hour just to lie on my sofa to watch a movie. She wants to know when I’m leaving the pub. I reply “Get there for eight. If I’m not home, just wait longer”. She laughs. I get a call from a nightclub promoter asking which tables I want comped at an event I’m attending. Johnny Wisdom calls to see if I can deputise Saturday’s day game seminar for him. My AFC chums are receiving nagging texts recalling them home.
I head home slightly inebriated. I fire up the PS3 and play Baja Edge of Control. The woman arrives and I send her in to the kitchen to make coffee while I finish the race. We order a pizza. Then I throw her in the bedroom and begin giving her one hell of a rogering. The doorbell rings so I pull out and pay the man, eat a slice of pizza, then resume fucking. We watch The Hangover, then she excuses herself and drives home. I finish Baja.
Friday – AFC chum is working late and then takes the long Underground commute to his expensive suburban nest for a quiet night in. I knock off work half an hour early because I don’t give a fuck what the boss thinks. I turn up to the pub where we hold the boot camp seminars. There’s eight students and we have eight instructors. We chill out watching TV and chatting to the bar staff. Then we pair up and take students out into the field. Perry and I have two Polish dudes who are a lot of fun to work with. We push them into sets on the streets around Soho and they get good responses.
I demo a few opens. Pole #1 opens a two set smoking outside a bar. I give him a few minutes then wing. I run normal DHV stories, cock funny, and so on. After we eject he is stoked, really liking to see game in action. I open an HB9 Lithuanian direct and hook, then at midnight Apocalypse an HB6 fashion buyer for a number close. Lots of fun and both students get numbers. The next day Pole #1 tells me he couldn’t sleep he was so pumped.
Saturday: AFC chum drives to Sainsbury’s for the weekly shopping, cleans the house, then drives the woman to the in-laws for a tortuous afternoon with bratty kids, slutty entitled extended family and other horrors. Like being back at work for an exceptionally stressful and unrewarding company. This is the life of beta obligation – no time at all to relax and do what you like.
I knock back a tequila while I dress then head into Covent Garden to meet the students at 1pm. We all go to a function room in a pub and I given them a one-hour presentation on day game. They are still buzzing from last night and ask lots of thoughtful questions. Most have seen my insta-date videos on youtube so I’ve got credibility and the Polish dudes are talking enthusiastically about their previous night out. My vanity is thoroughly satiated.
I take them into the field and we hit sets like gangbusters. My two guys are very motivated and throw themselves into set after set, hooking plenty. Literally not a single girl fails to stop. Polish dude gets an excellent long set with a French HB7 tourist. English dude gets two numbers including one Lebanese chick who says “I’d love to meet you but I’m going to get my hair done now. Let’s meet afterwards” to which he has a brain fart and ejects without a close. Upon hearing this five minutes later I send him back in – she’s gone so we find the nearest hairdresser and she’s in a waiting chair. He implements my instructions perfectly, which are:
Player: *walks in to salon* Hi. I was thinking about our conversation and I realised I was dumb for walking off like that. I like you and I’d like to see you again. Can I take your number?
HB Lebanon: *smiles, but a bit nervous*
Player: OK, look into my eyes for ten seconds *holds strong eye contact*. If you feel any nervousness, anything weird at all, I’ll just walk away. Its fine. No problem. But just look into my eyes for ten seconds *commence eye-fuck
HB Lebanon: *meets eyes, looks down after 4 seconds, giggles, gives number*
That’s broken down a barrier in his mind. He’s stoked, I’m stoked, everyone is stoked. We all meet up again and debrief in a pub over a beer. Everyone is reporting great experiences and pumping me for advice. Pole #2 has number-closed a Peruvian and we help him with text game. She wants a date later that night. I tell him to go for the date and he can come finish the boot camp another day no problem. He goes.
More seminars then we head into Old Street. One student requests me as his wing and he is a demon. He looks like a skinny nerdy dude but his inner game is surprisingly strong. He opens every set I lead him to and hooks every single time. He’s holding 3-sets, then a 5-set, then wearing the hat of the vodka shot girl, then stealing a girl’s seat – he’s absolutely on fire. His last set of the night he’s locked in to the bar while a HB7 Party Girl games him for half an hour. This guy is a rough diamond.
By 1am I get a text from Pole #2: “I’m taking her back home…. Thanx :))” High fives around the team and as we leave to go home all the students are swapping numbers and setting up wing opportunities.
Sunday: AFC chum is sleeping in, taking care of the cat, and working on a side project for work. I wake at noon, have a wank, shower, then catch up on House of the Dead Overkill on my Wii. Go into town to do all my errands, read a book, call my family.
Monday: AFC chum is up early and at work. He comes home to some TV. I have the day off because I’m setting up a fashion show at a night club. I spend all afternoon chatting with designers, stylists, photographers and models – solving problems and liasing with the venue staff. At the evening I return and walk in like its my house. I network with everyone, introducing stylists to models to photographers to make up artists. Five of my targets show up and the team DHV the shit out of me.
We aren’t gaming. This is a legit social circle event so there’s no kino, no closing. We are offering genuine value. I spend all night in the company of cool men and beautiful women, coming home with a wallet bulging with business cards. I go to bed a happy man.
Pre-game the AFC chum would’ve been me. My weekend wasn’t just game game game. It was social activity with interesting high value people. It was getting out and about and making things happen – not sitting on the sofa watching Eastenders and X-Factor. Every single thing I did I did because I wanted to do it. That’s what game gives – the freedom to live life the way you want to.