The chode hop

February 28, 2012

A beta male believes women are the prize whereas the man must simply try his best then hope for the best. This is a qualifying frame of mind. It encourages the man to act up in showy ways to prove he’s good enough for the princess’s delectation. Watch the men around you and they are positively dripping in attempts to qualify, some obvious, some less so. For example:

      • “I studied hard at school, worked hard, and now I have a six-figure salary and minor status increments within my corporate hierarchy” I can provide for you
      • “I read men’s fashion magazines and choose expensive clothes that are in season” I can look good for you
      • “I work out at the gym and deny myself many pleasures in food and alcohol so that I can have a stacked body” I can protect you

These are not in themselves bad things, they are merely the mark of a higher beta – the man who has the same beta heart as every other male but he does the beta thing with more drive, passion and competence than the others. Head nerd. Higher betas do get laid, just not as much as they’d expect from the vast amount of sacrifice they endure. If I had a daughter, I’d encourage her to marry a higher beta.

ye olde chode hop, yesteryear

Zooming in from the life-time trajectory qualification towards the in-a-bar-at-night qualification we get the curious case that here at RSG we call the “chode hop“. It goes like this:

  • Man is standing motionless by himself or on fringes of his group, value scanning the room for girls
  • Girl somewhere gives him a scrap of attention such as a quick glance or walks near him
  • Man immediately breaks out into awkward bopping dance out of time to the music
  • Girl is no longer noticing him
  • Man immediately stops dancing and takes a slug of his beer to smooth out the awkwardness

You will see this so often in so many bars. Somestimes its just a subtle bobbing head and side-stepping feet, other times its full-on like the tool in the above video. Before long you can predict it and give a 3…2…1…. countdown. On a more abstract level the chode hop encompasses all short-form qualification displays from men that are reactive to a woman’s fleeting attention and which end as soon as the attention has gone.

It is awful qualifying behaviour. If in doubt, stay still.

Daygame Nitro – Cheap Paperback Edition

February 26, 2012

I’ll admit it. I’m greedy.

When I released Daygame Nitro in May of last year it was the only daygame book worth reading. It’s still the best, but I’m a narcissist so you’d expect me to say that. My book is aimed at guys who can already do a bit of game and thus dives straight into the advanced material. Other guys cater to beginners and that’s fine. I devoted one chapter to “beginners daygame” and no more.

Perfection, yesterday

My method is designed to get girls who are younger and hotter than you are, then make them fall for you hard. That’s not an easy task. It requires real technical nous and an unshakeably strong frame. Daygame Nitro explains precisely how to acquire it. This is the most technically deep daygame material there is.

Everything is laid out in specifics. I use sample openers, sample stacks, sample conversations. I then explain the principles behind them so you can create your own on the fly. Combine this book with the dozens of free videos already on my blog and you have all you need to start knobbing hot young fillies.

That’s why for it’s first year of release I set the bar high at $70. If you’re serious about getting good, serious about putting in hundreds of approaches, then $70 is a pittance.

My loot

So for a year I’ve counted my loot and sat atop my pile of gold, cackling madly. Perhaps it’s to restore my karma, perhaps it’s a moment of madness but now I’ve cut my prices and even, in my boundless magnificence, released a cheap paperback edition. The content remains exactly the same. So, dear readers I offer you two choices:

Daygame Nitro Hardback – $50

Daygame Nitro Paperback – $20

Knock yourselves out. This won’t last forever.

I bang my first Thai massage parlour manager

February 21, 2012

I wake up bright and early with the newly acquired F-town dogtags around my neck. Life is good. The bright welcome sounds of my laptop greet me as I check my mail. Oh dear, Robusto has stolen the title while I slept, the sneaky fat aussie cunt. The sky suddenly darkens outside.

Later in the evening I come back from muay thai training with Bhodi and we turn our scooters into the final approach home. There’s a small massage parlour so I park up and decide to get the kinks of training kneaded out of my muscles to avoid tomorrow’s aches. Bhodi says “there’s a nice bird works there.” Indeed there is. It’s 11pm and an early 30s slightly MILFy bird is starting to close up shop, alone. I enquire whether there’s time for a massage and she assents.

Note at this moment I have zero intent. It’s not even on my mind. I’ve been having massages every night after training so this is just more of the same.

What my friends think I got

For the first half hour I recline on the futon with my eyes shut and don’t say a word. The woman busies herself digging thumbs into pressure points and grinding her elbow against my muscles. Maybe I’m kidding myself but my spider-sense is tingling. Something about her manner isn’t quite right. She seems to be putting too much of her body into contact with mine. It’s not sexual but it’s vaguely sensual. I pay it little mind. She starts to make light conversation which I reciprocate. Then towards the last ten minutes we are talking more so I drop in light DHVs reflexively. She compliments me on my “strong shoulders”. Hmmmmm.

She finishes and I’m still thinking nothing of it. It’s midnight and we’re both tired. She sits down on a futon next to me and makes small talk. I’m reading her for IODs to see if she signals me to leave so she can close up shop but they never come. So I put a calm vibe on her and gradually take control of the conversation. Before long she’s showing me photos of her family and saying she’ll sleep in the parlour tonight because her house is 40km away. It’s never awkward but it’s all inappropriate for a customer-client frame. Something is afoot.

What the internet thinks I got

So I escalate slightly by giving her a light shoulder massage. Then I suggest showing her my puppies my photos on my laptop at my room (less than 100m away). Thus begins a pattern of two-steps-forwards-one-step-back that continues for the next hour. She initially demurs then agrees, then as I put my shoes on and start going she demurs again before following five minutes later. At my room she sits on the corner of the bed while I put on facebook and spotify. I know she’s up for it but clearly wanting to be pressed so that she can tell herself it “just happened”.

After ten minutes in my room she rebuffs the first two kisses in a half-arsed display of chastity then takes the third. I’ve long since figured out how she wants to be seduced so I just move it along gently but firmly until she’s rubbing my cock and I know it’s a done deal. She’s a decent lay. Then she excuses herself and walks back to her shop. I don’t even pay for the massage.

What I felt I was getting

I fire off an email to Robusto to request he unburden himself of the tags which he no longer has a right to wear.

This lay is what I would call a “George”, after my new Greek buddy who has stacked his adulthood with over a hundred such lays. There was no game per se. I just went on with my business and allowed my spider-sense to pick up signals when a girl was in the right mood at the right time. Then I just laid my vibe on her, relaxed, and gently moved it forwards. Every one of you probably has twenty of these experiences where you failed to spot the signals and thus nothing happened. And this is an unexpected reward of following the game route – you pick up such good calibration in the process of opening thousands of girls that when a lay just walks right up to you, you are able to spot it and let it happen.

Add ten years and you have her double

Learning points

    • Be aware of the signals around you that girls give off. You might not be on the pull, but she might be horny and into you.
    • When you meet the right girl in the right mood, you just have to let the lay happen
    • This was two hours from meet to lay, including one hour for the massage. Don’t be psyched out when things move fast. As this one built up speed I was thinking “whoa, is it really falling into my lap so easily?” I could’ve fucked it up if I’d stuck too close to my model on what should happen.

I bang my first Thai village girl

February 19, 2012

Sometimes getting laid is astonishingly easy. This one was three hours from meet to sex but to be fair I still followed the model to eliminate unnecessary fuck ups on what was basically a slamdunk. It all begins when I decide to try pipelining ahead of my visit to Thailand. Robusto and JJ are dab hands at online game, so much so they should probably write a book on it, so I just plaguarise the fat man’s profile and copy JJ’s message principle of “push-pull-push”. With less than three hours since sign-up I’m pinging messages with a dozen ladies.

The cream of asia, yesterday

Now lets be straight, these ladies are not the cream of Asia. While not as old and hideous as an English website, the girls are firmly clustered around the 5-7 band but as we well know an Asian seven is often very very pleasant company. I move a few of the girls over to my facebook and Skype. There’s tons of filipinos (which is little use to me) but I add them too to experiment with hassling ’em for naked photos. Here’s the full set of messages of the bird I banged:

Me: Hey sweetie. I’m headed to [thai city] next week and I’ll be making new friends. I have a vacancy for a fun, crazy, cute local girl to laugh at my jokes and show me the city. I wonder where I could find one….. [Robusto-style so far]

Her: you have to try…. everywhere…i dont know… i can’t find guy like that either.. they’re somewhere

Me: Real men are very rare. Like pandas or tigers. What is your ideal man?

Her: someone honest,clever and always make me laugh

Me: I’m boring. I’m the most boring man in the world. I like your hair in your photo. I’m very boring. When I talk, you will fall asleep. [JJ-style of push-pull-push]

Her: you might not be so boring but the fact that you repeat saying you’re boring so many times. that’s boring

Me: ****** logic paradox ****** weird girl I like your hairband too. I don’t like your bed sheet [push-pull-push]

Her: weird man that’s not bed sheet, it’s bedspread. I like your jacket but I dont like your hat.

Me: That hat cost me $5,000. Well, no it didn’t. That’s a lie. What are you doing right now?

Her: I’m working but sneak chatting. if you mean occupation.. it’s bloody[boring office] company

Me: BOOOOOORRRRRINGGGG!!!!! You need excitement. Are you adventurous?

Her: thanks for telling me that my job is boring. it really helps. I am more adventurous than you can imagine.

Me: I don’t believe you. I think you work all day and watch TV all evening. I think the most adventurous thing you ever did was to kiss a guy in a bar. Once. You look like a fun girl

Her: you’re pathetic.. listen to your attitude. i bet all girls you have met are as boring as you just describe me, and i bet you’ll never find anyone more adventurous than that.

Me: It’s unfortunate. Maybe I just have bad luck in Thailand. In London, the girls I meet are all fun, interesting, energetic and beautiful. Maybe my luck in London is good. Are you really 159cm?

Her: maybe 158 i’m not sure. and me, i have bad luck too… all boys i meet here are boring.

Me: Do you have facebook in Thailand?

Her: where have you been dinosaur? facebook is eveywhere now.

Me: I thought so, but the only Thais I know I met in London and Tokyo. Search [my email] and add me

So she comes over to facebook where all my profile DHVs can hit and I can get a better look to see if her dating site photo is backed up by reality. Yeah, she’s quite cute. So I proceed to have a few ten-minute half-arsed chats to bed down some comfort and be more real. We exchange numbers and then a few days after I touch down in Thailand we meet on Saturday evening.

Closer to reality

I tell her it’s fine to bring friends because I’m out with Bhodi. She comes alone on her scooter and from there it’s child’s play. We’re in a lounge bar supping Singha beer and for twenty minutes Bhodi and I just frame-control the shit out of her until she is entrenched in a submissive, inferior feminine position – which she loves, I might add. It’s obvious she’s never seen anything like it. Push-pull, DHVs, chick crack, douchbaggery, it’s all in there. As we finish our drinks and go to the club next door I know all the attraction and qualification is done. I simply need enough comfort and then test some escalation.

Bhodi heads home with a chest infection he picked up in muay thai class while I move my girl from the edge of the dancefloor to a sofa outside. I do very light kino which she accepts and then drop in sexualisation.

Her: What do you like to do in life?

Me: First, I like fighting. Second is sleeping. Then eating. Then reading. Fifth is sex, then videogames.

Her: Sex is only fifth?

Me: No no, sorry. Videogames is fifth, then sex.

A bit later I qualify her on blowjob technique. She says she’s great at it because some ladyboy gave her secret tips. I do a push-away with: “Two things that all girls say they are good at is kissing and blowjobs. It’s never true. I’ve been disappointed so many times.” Predictably she paws me and qualifies: “No, no. Really, I give excellent blowjobs!”

The rook moves to H7. Check.

I tell her we’re going for a walk and start leading in the direction of my apartment and I occupy her forebrain with bullshit until the momentum is rolling. She has a great round ass so I compliment her on it, pick her up over my shoulder and slap it. She’s loving it.

The knight advances. Black is in danger.

We get to my apartment building ten minutes later. “I’m not going to your room” she half-heartedly protests. “It’s just for ten minutes” and up we go. Once inside I put on spotify and chill. “We’re not having sex” she protests. “That’s fine. Just show me some youtube music you like.”


Five minutes later she is demonstrating her blowjob skills. Ten minutes later I have F-town. When I give her a ride back to her scooter she’s singing sweet love songs. Cute. I’ll see her again.

Postscript: Although I go to bed with the F-town tags around my neck, which I swear make me sleep deeper and dream better, Robusto lacks the class and character to allow me to enjoy my acheivement. Way over in Mexico he rushes out to the street and brings a runt home to regain his tags.

Drunken douchebag text game is fun

February 11, 2012

I’m out on Friday night with three old uni friends I haven’t seen since before Christmas. There are already a bit monged on champagne before I roll in at 9:30 but we have a good chat about normal men’s things. After a couple drinks we roll on to an Islington bar with a meat market vibe. The male/female ratio is about even so there’s a bunch of 5, 6s and 7s shaking their asses and waving their arms on the dancefloor while nervous-looking young professional guys try to come onto them. For all it’s fascinating people-watching potential I’m just focused on my continued inebriation. I find myself propped up against the bar opening three different girls who order drinks next to me. The last one hooks well.

Peering through my beer-goggles, she looked like this

I’m a douchebag. The whole pick-up is on auto pilot where I’m dimly aware of the model I’m following but it’s never at the front of my mind. I insult her alot in the first five minutes but it’s all smirky-asshole stuff that she likes. So she plants herself next to me and allows it all to happen. The next hour is a blur. I know I remain rooted to the same spot without moving while she does a couple of takeaways (the effect of which is nil, because I can see her staring at me from across the room the whole time). Her bolshy little friend comes over twice to evaluate me, the first time she’s friendly the second time there’s bluster: “Did you just tell my friend you wanted to fuck her in the ass and spit on her hair?”

Easily dealt with and she leaves us to it. By the thirty-minute mark she’s doing a full-body press against me and subtle grinding of her pussy against my legs, kissing, and grabbing my cock. I flip between outrageous dirty-talk, douchebag push-aways, and feigned naivety. I put it at 70/30 that I can SNL her but at crunchtime little Bolshy comes back with her gang and drags her away: “Take his number and we’re leaving”. Nothing I can do. Bolshy is clearly mother hen.

Bolshy is the one on the right

I’m so drunk I scoff a Big Mac (my first ever) and pay £30 for a taxi home rather than find a nightbus. As I’m eating, I start up the text game. Note she’s an English girl (remember, the type my game “doesn’t work on”) so I’m able to use the full nuance of my language:

Me: Is your leopard-printed pointy-fingered (but kinda cute) friend still angry and pointy? [frame the cockblock for what she was, but without being resentful]

Her: Hehehehehe, nah it’s cool, we’re at another bar right now… They like this one better 🙂 are there any other gals or guys you’d like to fuck in the ass over in Angel? Be honest 😀 [she’s still turned on, and still loved the anal sex idea and my outrageousness]

Me: Fucking loads of ’em. You’ve slipped to 13th place in the queue. [douchebag push]

Me: Which, technically, makes you unlucky. My apologies… still like your smell, though [I’m the prize. Push-pull]

Her: Hehe 🙂 [reward]

Her: Is this you trying to be smooth? [banter]

Her: It’s kinda funny 😛 [shit test]

Me: Sorry. I’m terrible with girls. I hope you don’t bust me for being a virgin. [agree and amplify]

Me: Pretend you never read that [feigned naivity and confusion]

Me: So… um… what do you think of Greece’s continued membership in the euro? [de-escalate in tongue-and-cheek manner, drop in implicit contrast game that I’m not just a sexually aggressive douchebag but I’m also educated]

Her: Haaaahaaaa… I knew you were a virgin, I could smell it on your neck, taste it on your lips and feel it on your dick 😉 [playing along, getting herself off on remembering me sexually]

Her: And I think the euro is ridiculous 😛 [a knowing wink at what I was doing]

Me: It was the hover-hand wasn’t it? [keep going with the thread]

Me: I knew it! I should’ve just collected my courage and put my finger up your chuff [feigned cowardice and regret, in contrast to what she knows was strong bold intent]

Me: Then my thumb

Her: Haaaahahaaa! It’s like Fort Knox down there… It wouldn’t have ever happened! But Ilike the visuals your descriptions are providing 🙂 [She’d told me she hadn’t had sex since April 2011]

Her: You’re not bad for a 42 yr old! [callback humour to a game we played, she’s rapport seeking and obliquely IOIing]

Me: If you knew what your imaginary self was doing to my imaginary cock right now, you’d get a touch of the vapours. [blame her for the sexual escalation]

Her: Oh you’ve got a dirty lil mind. [approval]

Me: I’m innocent. It’s your slutty imaginary self taking advantage of me. I’m almost shocked. [feigned naivity, position her as seducing me]

Me: Almost

Her: You kinda called me a slut… I should be offended

Her: Should [girls love being slutty about sex when given permission]

Me: You scandalise me. Stop talking about sex. There will be no more talk about my rock hard dick invading your sweet little pussy. None of that talk at all. [push-pull]

Her: So… um… what do you think of Greece’s continued membership in the euro? 😛 [callback humour, rapport-seeking, signalling a willingness to follow my lead]

Me: Referendum, default on the debt, return to the drachma… and “go greek” on the next hot bird dumb enough to put her ass within banging distance of my dick. [contrast game]

Me: Should I spell out who that bird is, or can I rely on your social acuity to start getting wet on the intimation? [assumed the sale on her being wet for me]

Her: No no… No need as I got that from the moment I laid eyes on you… And you made me quite wet earlier on, I’m still kinda wet… But not as wet 🙂 so I will have to rely on my imagination it seems [reliving the moment to extend her pussy tingle]

Her: I have an amazing imagination!!!! [qualification]

So this was an SNL candidate that never quite got there. Not sure if I’ll see her again. I’ll be leaving the country again soon and I suspect the escalation went past the point of no return regarding buyers remorse. We’ll see.

Number closes can be a roll of the dice

February 5, 2012

As I look out my window the snow is falling and wind batters my humble abode. JJ is in Poland freezing his balls off and I left Robusto in Mexico chasing hostel trolls. There’s not alot of game being done in Chateau RSG right now. So it would appear time to dust off the archives and dredge up an old infield. Here’s a routine number-close from a lovely Estonian last summer.

I’ve put subtitles in to show what I was trying to do. She was a stunningly hot bird in my opinion – a very fresh girly look about her. It was my last set of a good three-hour session so I didn’t pay it much mind. You’ll see that it was going well but her time constaint meant I had to take a number without bedding it down with comfort. That makes it a roll of the dice.

I didn’t see her again. Why?

In my book I talk about the proper sequencing of a daygame street stop. The above-linked video is following the model but gets snipped short due to her being late to catch a bus. As the subtitles describe I’m able to get out the spontaneous opener and then tease / bridge into a conversation which kills her momentum. The vibing goes well as she’s smiling and giving back. So far so good. It’s as I start to move into the early stages of investment that she gives me her time constraint.

My book lays out the detail on why you need to invest her and begin comfort before you can have confidence that a number / instant date will work. Doing attraction material is fun and will hook her but if that’s all you do she gets a high buying temperature and walks away thinking “that was fun”. And that’s all. You were a clown. No-one cares to return a clown’s call. However if you can then move her into a real conversation about things that matter to her, and even better get her doing most of the conversational work, then you are showing her emotions that you are both fun and authentic. That’s when you can move to commit her for further interaction.

I couldn’t get there with this Estonian girl and thus I knew it was a roll of the dice. But I could read her hindbrain clearly – she liked me – so it was worth a punt at the number. Get a bunch of weak numbers like this and some of them turn into real dating.