March 25, 2012

I’m walking through the airport lounge waiting for JJ to buy some proper luggage when I happen past the cosmetics section of duty free. There’s the usual grotty painted-up harlots hawking their wares stood infront of posters of model’s faces that are more like oil paintings than photos.

It strikes me how disconnected from the reality of actual beauty is the beauty industry. There’s no escaping the fact that men decide what is beautiful in women (and vice versa). Slogans feeding unearned entitlement (“you deserve it”) or fantasy anti-ageing (“advanced night repair formula”) are emblazoned upon essentially generic creams, gels and facepaints.

A mannish-chinned oil painting

I think of how many models I’ve dated who look sensational in portfolio pictures, easily hotter than these Estee Lauder models, but are thoroughly unremarkable in the flesh. There’s the fashion model I threesomed, the catwalk model who fell in love with me, and recently the Victoria Secrets model I instant-dated (but didn’t bang). Every one of them a stunner on paper and merely “pretty hot” in person. Make-up works.

In Thailand I was struck by how well scrawny little girls doll up. I don’t mean to belittle the little chipmunks because they are doing what comes naturally and I am a firm supporter of their being more well-presented women in the world. Here’s a case in point.

With and without makeup

This young girl is a fresh graduate I dated a couple of times last month. A sweet pleasant good girl (I can just hear all the loser farang trying to find a way to pass her off as a freelancer looking to feed her family back in the village. They need to believe good girls don’t exist in Thailand to justify them not finding any). When dolled up she’s encroaching upon eight territory. But just look at the change when she’s gone au-naturel and an unflattering photo.

The reality is she’s somewhere in the mid-seven range. Good skin, slim, limber, with charming features and a lovely manner. This was our second date. Give me that over a hoity-toity model any day of the week.

Pipelining for another Eastern European jaunt

March 24, 2012

As is now my custom, now that the chilly frost of winter is behind me (not that I noticed while in Mexico, Cuba, Belize and Thailand) the golden path to Eastern Europe has opened. So JJ and I have packed our suitcases and are off on another trawl of slavic women. One thing we much neglected in our previous trips was pipelining. Internet girls are so grotty that it doesn’t seem worth the bother. Not when the daytime streets are properly infested with cute clean-limbed little slavic sweeties.

But now that JJ figured out a way to pipeline while getting lulz at the same time we figured we’d sit in a cafe for a few hours and see what we can rustle up. I fire off twenty messages to girls in our target city. My only rule is they have to be hot enough that I’d open them in a bar (which is below my street-open threshold). They are much like this:

Different bird, but same calibre

Girl A: Tall 19yr old brunette

Me: Your picture scares my dog. He’s hiding behind the sofa, whimpering. That’s really mean of you. You should apologise to him.

Her: I don’t necesarily apologise, unfortunatly I’m not a fan of dogs! But I may find the resistance.

Me: You’re a crazy cat lady???? Oh no, someone pass my umbrella, I need to chase you away. Nice hair. Very feminine. Cute. I have an electrified fence. Don’t chance it.

Her: I guess I am or on the path to become one… I only have one cat for now and he is already a little much. Thanks πŸ™‚ My name is [name].

Me: [her name]? I have no idea how to pronounce that. I’m Nick. I’ll be arriving in [city]tomorrow, then coming up to [her city] after a few days. Where do you recommend? I’m looking for a cool bar which foreigners rarely find.

Her: Come visit me at work πŸ™‚

Me: Where? I hope you work at a sausage shop, and can give me free sausages

Her: 😦 No I work at a pub, its not necessarily cool but ill be there and i guess i could bring some sausages to work

Me: nom nom nom Great! I like you now.

So that one looks promising and she’s certainly worth spending a few hours of a date to get a closer look. By her photos she looks a solid eight and not at all mental.

Girl B: Artsy 23yr old brunette

Me: You sound crazy. Totally bat-shit crazy. I like your hair. Cute, feminine. Weirdo

Her: Meowww

Me: Oh, you’re in big trouble now, girl

Her: I’m a dragon. nice to meet you πŸ™‚

Me: I slay dragons. I’m a dragon-slayer. I’m just going to go put on my armour and mount my horse, pick up my lance, and come slay you. Maybe rescue a fair maiden when I’m finished

Her: boo!

Me: .

Her: HAHAHAHA xD I’ve survived slayers before, I’ll survive you. πŸ™‚

Me: I’ll be in [her city] from tomorrow. Which bar do you recommend? Somewhere tourists don’t usually find.

Her: We dragons hang out in parks πŸ˜› but yeah, I don’t know, the clubs are all listed online and the popular bars too πŸ™‚ and I’m the wors person you can ask that question I just started going out myself πŸ™‚

Again this one looks likely to progress to a date and she seems fun. This pseudo-trolling method filters out girls who are no fun.


Girl C: Bisexual 23yr old brunette

Me: [her city] won’t be big enough for the both of us. I’m gonna run you out of town, and the donkey you rode in on. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Her: Me and my pinata donkey will never surrender. Never! :dramatically whips her hair:

Me: You shouldn’t rob that bank [reference to her profile]. Being a girl, you’ll get confused, scared, and make a mess of it. I’ll be the sheriff who arrests you

Her: Years of watching Dexter taught me some things. I think I’d be cool as a blade. Boris the blade. :l But yeah, I certainly shouldn’t do it while I’m pms-ing. Ok. Just don’t sentence me to death by hanging. Ugh.

Me: You don’t belong on the plains. You should be in the kitchen. Cooking roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Mmmmm….. gravy…..

Again another bird who knows how to banter and might be fun. I’ve got seven similar conversations ongoing from my first twenty messages and I wouldn’t place any of the girls below a low-7. If anything comes of it, I’ll update.

Date-game fail

March 12, 2012

While out at the Riverside Bar in Thailand, Bhodi and I were witness to perhaps the worst date-game we’ve seen all year. A textbook case of how to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. While it’s bad form to mock the misfortune of others, I was able to snap off some video for my readers’ edification. If the poor subject of this post finds it, consider it a free consultation.

We were watching the live band when a cute little island girl stood a few feet in front wearing a nice dotted top. Although no higher than a seven she was exactly my type so I paid some attention to size her up and consider an open. Perhaps I should observe her a while longer because she’s waiting in front of the gents toilets so I figured probably waiting for her boyfriend. Sure enough, five minutes later a European guy came over with her drink, said something and then leaned in to give her a no-tongues kiss on the lips. Ok, so I won’t be opening her I think, and quickly size up the guy.

  • Ingratiating smile and pleading eyes
  • Bad haircut that accentuates both the balding and the nerdiness
  • Cookie-cutter herb dress sense

My initial thought is “well done” on getting a fairly hot bird despite these drawbacks. But then this starts……

Fuck. Me.

I simply cannot have any sympathy for a man who hands his balls over like that. He’s already lost the lay because several times the girl throws us embarrassed glances. She just wants this to end as soon as possible. He had enough smarts to realise the dancefloor escalation is failing after he leans in three times to kiss her and in each case she keeps her head flat against the post she’s leaning on and presses her lips tight together. So he leads her out onto the patio tables and to the quietest darkest corner he can find.

We get to watch over the balcony as he sits facing her and leaning in while she faces away. I hypothesise to Bhodi: “they look like they are on a first date but he’s already been able to get some light kisses on her lips. I’m guessing they met in a club a few days ago and had a drunken makeout. None of the other kino is there.” It’s obvious he hasn’t banged her. He’s dripping with neediness while she is playing gatekeeper.

Ten minutes later he pulls her up to try to ballroom dance to a slower song and again she looks helplessly up at us as we are cracking up with lulz. Poor guy. She got colder and colder and colder. By then it was 1am and we had better things to do.

Announcing the launch of Count Cervantes

March 8, 2012

A common pattern throughout my life has been the three-year cycle. Pretty much any activity or hobby that takes my interest will burn brightly for something like three years and then I tire of it and move on. University, banking, living in Japan, Brazilian Ju Jitsu, economics, playing in a band…. they all peaked around the second year and by the end of the third I was thoroughly bored, casting around for the next adventure.

So it is with pick up

I am rapidly approaching the third anniversary of my first ever cold approach. Regular readers will have noted how enthusiastically I threw myself into the pick up lifestyle and also recently how I’ve slowed down alot. I’ve probably done about 10 daygame approaches in 2012. Tops.Β My pick up identity tires me. It no longer takes me in the direction I wish to go. I’ve seen enough people trapped in the community long after they should’ve left.

This is not to deny Game. It works. I’ve met, befriended, and banged women far better and far more often than I could’ve hoped to without Game. But while I will continue to study, refine and use Game I will be moving in new directions. What is Hell? It is running around like a blue-arsed fly street-stopping 30 girls every weekend for ten years. Fun for a while (even necessary) but ultimately tiring.

You didn't think I meant the Don Quixote guy?

For six months I’ve been casting around for the next step. How do I continue to learn and build on the Game I’ve acquired these past three years yet still keep it fresh and exciting for myself? I realised that having already made significant progress with the technical side of in-set game, and having sorted most of my inner game, the next step is to spread my wings and live the lifestyle I most enjoy.

Thus I introduce you to my new blog – Count Cervantes.

I won’t pre-frame it any further. Check out a few posts and see what you think. Krauser will continue as normal with it’s usual focus on pickup, infields and game theory. I’ve got no plans to wind it down. However the forward thrust to my life will be on Count Cervantes. That’s where my passion now lies.

You’re only as old as the woman you feel

March 7, 2012

For much of my youth I was puzzled by the attitudes towards ageing that people around me adopted. Generally, people’s future time orientation and expectations of ageing were both unabashedly low to the point they assumed getting “old” (basically 50+) was inevitable, shitty, and totally out of your locus of control. I never agreed.

My great uncle Tommy died last year aged 85. It came suddenly over the course of less than a year, as his hearing went, he became confused, and he suddenly lost alot of weight. A fairly unpleasant final year of life although he was only bedridden for about a month of it. However, the preceding 84 years were full of world-travelling and activity. A keen mountaneer and cyclist in his younger days, Tommy continued to cycle up and down country hills 20 miles a day, several times a week, into his eighties. He was slim without being skinny. And until that final year was also mentally alert.

Mature at middle age

Old at middle age

In short, as an 80-year old man his general fitness, alertness, and overall quality of life was higher than most 30 year olds. These days it’s common to assume that physical degeneration sets in from thirty (back pain, aches, weight gain) and accelerates through middle age (sendatry hobbies) until by age 60 you’re hobbling around with bad knees and piss-stained trousers. Fuck no.

I expect the final 20 years of my life to be as high quality as any other 20-year section. My death will be preceded by a short rapid unravelling rather than multi-decade degeneration. Bad luck aside (e.g. cancer, stroke, accident), that is. I will not abuse myself in my 30s and thus compromise my 60s and 70s.

Generally, ageing is an opportunity. It is time you can invest in making yourself a better man. This was brought into stark relief for me a few days ago when I was in a restaurant in Thailand and noticed to men of similar age on adjacent tables who were light years apart in how they’d handled ageing. Guy A was cool as fuck. Guy B was a shambling schlub. So I snapped off a quick video on my phone. Apologies for the low res.

Note the following:

      • Guy A has maintained a solid trim physique with well-proportioned lean muscles whereas Guy B has let himself get doughy skin, stooped shoulders and gone to fat.
      • Guy A dresses with style and good accessorisation while Guy B covered himself in superglue and ran through Primark, looking generic and plain.
      • Guy A holds strong posture with slow decisive movements and his lean-in towards his girl is interested without neediness. Guy B is sloppy and leans in from weakness.
      • Guy A had a hot (I’d rate her high-7) young local girl who spoke good english, no tattoos, and an all-round nice girl look to her. She was most certainly not a bar girl. She spent the whole of the meal listening intently to her man and giving of soft female vibe. Guy B had a middle-aged emancipated woman with dowdy clothes and haircut and an air of uneasy equality between them as he ran every decision past her. Twenty years ago, she’d have still been no competition for the other girl.

You can look at a middle-aged man and know if he’s capable of dating young girls without artificial props and ruining his own life.

Narcissism and codependency in the PUA/HB dynamic

March 3, 2012

I believe Game is a journey, one in which you initially stumble blindly unaware of where the starting line is. You go from the blissfully-unaware AFC to suddenly peeking under the curtain and realising that success with women is a skill that can be learned like any other, and there is a vast wealth of resources available to help you. Many men (such as myself) believe they’ve found the starting line and off they go.

The problem is, you’re not running down the yellow brick road, you’re just spinning on a sophisticated hamster wheel and getting nowhere fast. Eventually, if you’re lucky and have access to the right resources, you’ll tumble to the old saw that the pickup community is just the self-help community in disguise. That should motivate you to fix the real causes of your self-worth problems and personality defects rather than the symptoms (“I can’t get laid”).

Project Hollywood, yesterday

Some people never make that leap. They persist in an never-ending cycle of diminishing returns in the quest to perfect their Game. Just do another 1,000 sets. Just polish off that routine. Just read more Game books. They become shameless pussy-hounds craving the pop of the next sexual conquest. They pour ever more water into the leaky bucket. I’ve discussed this in detail in my Creeping Death posts.

Well, while I may be a narcissist I am not unable to recognise when someone hits the nail on the head more accurately than I do. The Rawness has just written a masterpiece. Read it. I’ll pull out the sections that interest me most and comment.

His fundamental point is that Game (or more specifically the PUA lifestyle) can worsen a man’s self-worth issues by misleading him to attack the symptoms of his issues while the causes continue to worsen. The PUA lifestyle and the type of Game it encourages will exacerbate the problem by screening good people out of your life while attracting bad people. At some point it comes crashing down.

The PUA-HB dynamic is that of a codependent-narcissist. As an AFC people-pleaser you employ ineffective manipulative Nice Guy behaviours to get girls. Game replaces these with effective manipulative Asshole/Alpha behaviours that draw you into the dance of wounded souls. The PUA becomes a Compensatory Narcissist in that he models and copies the actions of a true narcissist (e.g. aloofness, assholery) without feeling it in his core. This leads to three types of interaction

      • PUA-(victim)HB: The player manipulates and exploits low self-worth codependent women who need him to lean on, primarily by teasing and withholding validation through push-pull. He despises the weakness of these women and tires of them.
      • PUA-(predator)HB: The player meets a more skilled narcissist than himself and is drawn into her web of tests, in which his increasing competence of passing intrigues her and gives her narcissistic supply until eventually she tires of him and dumps him, usually before sex.
      • PUA-(normal)HB: The girl isn’t responsive to his games because she is not unusually needy of validation or narcissistic supply. By his refusal to be normal, she is exasperated by him and tired while for his part he finds she is not responding as his script dictates so he becomes frustrated. The relationship never progresses and thus he blows his chance to have a nice person in his life.

Thus the PUA is gradually channelled into a lifestyle that involves gamey dances with a subset of emotionally damaged women as he tries to extract sex and affection from her while she tries to extract attention and validation from him. Rarely does a balanced mutually-affirming sexual relationship ensue. This is the case whether the PUA is angling for SNLs in nightclubs or bouncebacks in street game. I know guys commited to both lifestyles. It’s not pretty. Rawness calls such men grandiosity sharks.

“grandiosity sharks are people who have to keep swimming through a sea of external validation in order to breathe and stay afloat, because much like the shark can’t breathe internally, they can’t generate validation and self-esteem internally. If they stop moving through the sea of validation for a given amount of time, or their swimming is temporarily disrupted due to a blow to their ego, they figuratively suffocate, sink to the bottom and die.”

It would be nice if the pussy-hound lifestyle was merely papering over the cracks of self-worth but Rawness suggests it’s more like swallowing the cat to catch the mouse:

“Pickup artistry does not fix the codependent; it just changes him from a codependent into a narcissist by ignoring the core issues and instead training him to switch from the faulty coping strategy of surrender to the preferred faulty coping strategy of the narcissist, which is overcompensation. It’s just trading one toxic personality dysfunction for a worse, harder-to-cure toxic personality dysfunction.”

I have spoken before about what I termed the two types of Game – light side and dark side. It springs from the matrix of male/female personality types. Recall that there are four types of man according to their combination of competence and confidence:

      • Type 1: Both confident and competent. These are the solid self-actualised males who have their life together, have genuine skills they employ, balanced personalities and a sense of direction. It’s George Clooney or Cary Grant.
      • Type 2: Confident but incompetent. These are the chancers and showboats in life who usually drift aimlessly but maintain the veneer of charm and charisma (because real confidence can never be delusional, it must rest upon competence) and have an exaggerated narcissistic self-regard. They are the tattooed bar tenders, rock guitarists and drug dealers of the world.
      • Type 3: Competent but lacking confidence. This is the vast sea of beta males who hold down steady office jobs, watch Lost and Prison Break, dress in GAP or Next and are utterly indistinguishable from each other (to the female eye). Generally they are decent people and it’s their taxes that support the femo-centric world.
      • Type 4: Neither competent nor confident. They are the dregs of society. Barely-employed, out of shape, lacking social skills, these are the omega / delta males whom society has left behind. They retreat into solo hobbies or fringe weirdo collectives (e.g. ComicCon).

The female typology is based on beauty and self esteem. So type 1 women have both, type 2 women have beauty but low self esteem. I made the point that in the normal order of affairs men and women of equal rank pair off, i.e. type 1 men pair with type 1 women. A pairing of one rank’s mismatch (e.g. type 1 man with type 2 woman) can initiate but is doomed to failure. A two-rank disparity would only happen if there were severe outside influence such as drugs, alcohol or a solemn obligation to a dear friend.

Where this intersects with the Rawness essay is that he is essentially talking about Type 2 Male – Type 2 Female pairings where the man’s fragile confidence is manufactured by painting a faux-narcissistic facade over a codependent core and the competence issues are not addressed either. The female is leveraging her beauty but lacks a sense of deservedness and thus has a constant lean-towards that the PUA can exploit by using push-pull to prop her up with validation / attention and then take away to send her back off balance.

To say these pairings are unhealthy is an understatement. Rawness also nicely explains the PUA obsession with strippers and hired guns:

“By the way, I want to point out that stripping and sex work in general are profession that attracts a HUGELY disproprortionate amount of narcissists and borderline personality disorder sufferers, which lends credence to my theory that becoming a PUA often just makes one into a sophisticated form of codependent, because why else would these guys keep being drawn to strippers and pornstars, who can be some of the most severely personality-disordered people out there?”

I have long maintained that the successful attitude towards learning Game, the actual starting line you should begin your journey from, is to develop yourself into a Type 1 man (Rawness calls this the Renaissance Man rather than Alpha) and then learn how to identify and attract Type 1 women using Game which is merely a conduit of your character and leveraging your understanding of female psychology and the mating ritual. You should avoid the Type 2 / Type 2 dance of the wounded souls. The only way to win that game is to avoid playing.

I might come back to his piece with more comments. It really is a blinder and I urge you to read it.