Aggressive commuting

October 29, 2012

On my way to work I like to take a leisurely stroll to the Underground station so I can get a little sun and fresh air, stretch my legs a little. I find it helps orient me to the day and negate the stress of the London rush hour. You get to see people at their most dispirited and iritable early on a Monday morning. Once such recent encounter gave me pause for thought in how certain behaviours give you a window into a person’s world.

So I approach the station around 8am and my Oyster card has expired so I proceed to the ticket machines, two of them side-by-side near the station entrance. Both are busy and a thirty-ish chubby Asian man is trying to straddle both queues (he is the only person waiting) by standing between the machines. Immediately I peg him as unsatisfied with his life as he is shuffling hurriedly and craning his neck over the other passenger’s shoulders willing them to complete their ticket purchases faster. So I know this man is passive-aggressive and unhappy with his lot in life. I have no time for people who breach the standard codes of daily life, whether they jabber on their mobile phones while at a cash register (and thus disrespect the staff) or in this case trying to hold two queues up to save time by externalising his impatience onto other passengers. I walk directly to the right-hand machine to wait. He turns to face me and says “I’m waiting for that one”.

A non-managed ticket queue, yesterday

This surprises me a little. London commuters are a timid bunch and even the passive-aggressive ones are usually so passive they won’t say anything or hold eye contact.

“OK” I reply, and move towards the left-hand machine.

“I’m queueing for both of them” he says and physically moves to block me.

“No you’re not. Choose a queue” I reply.

He whines about something but halfway through one of the women in front finishes her purchase so I move to that machine. The guy dodges in front and rushes to the machine. What a dickhead, I think, and give him a light shove as he brushes past me and then I wait for the girl infront of my machine to finish. He pipes up, something along the lines of:

Him: You just hit me

Me: No I didn’t it was a light shove as you pushed past me

Him: That’s assault. I’ll make a citizen’s arrest if you hit me again

Me: (now making my ticket purchase) I didn’t hit you and I’m not going to touch you

Him: You hit me. I’ll have you arrested. I’ll take you into custody until the police come

Me: If you touch me I’ll knock you out

Him: I am going to take your photo (starts fumbling with phone camera)

Me: No you’re not. I don’t give you permission (lightly swat his phone down, but not so hard that he drops it)

I forget the exact words but he was bleating and prattling, much longer sentences than I’ve written here. He walks off and then turns to take a photo from a distance then waits for me at the top of the platform steps so he can then prattle on next to me about how he’s going to have me arrested. Next he pretends to call the Transport Police giving them my description and agreeing a rendezvous at the next station. I’ve already back-turned him. Nothing more comes of it.

but wearing a tailored Italian suit

My reason for relaying this story isn’t to position myself as some kind of champion of social justice. He was a pushover gamma male showing a rare appetite for confrontation, hardly a threat even in this country of officious law enforcement that seek to harass law-abiding tax-payers rather than stop real crime. Rather, what did this incident show me about this man’s reality? My thoughts:

  • He has a generally bitter view of the world where other people, and probably fate generally, are assumed to be against him. He is under attack and every now and then needs to fight back
  • He will breach social convention in the grey areas (i.e. straddling two queues) in order to gain a marginal advantage. This is value-taking. I suspect he’d also not tell checkout staff if he received too much change on his groceries and likely is an inconsiderate driver
  • When in a confrontation his instinct is passive-aggressive and to tell teacher. His attempt to reframe himself as the victim of a physical attack was laughable, even Premiership footballers don’t play act that obviously. Despite initiating both the circumstances of the confrontation (through his value-taking) and the explicit confrontation itself (telling me to play by his rules then jumping in front of me) and the first physical nudge and the prolonging of it (the photo and threats) he was determined to frame himself as the victim.
  • His shrill references to having me arrested were just telling teacher. He is not a man who handles his own confrontations. It’s easy to play brave when you have an army behind you. There’s nothing badass about strutting infront of a (perceived) helpless victim like you’re a warrior
  • The attempts to photograph me show his classic gamma traits. When people self-define as a victim they often award themselves a moral carte-blanche to ruthlessly attack their supposed-oppressors without honour or proportionality. Just look at “anti-fascist” or “anti-homophobia” demonstrators and how they try to hound normal men out of their livelihoods. This betrays the deep-seated misanthropy behind the victim identity.
  • He told a blatant lie in carrying on his sham phone call. So not only does he play fast and loose with the truth but the whole charade was designed to try to worry me and ruin my day. So he was not motivated by defending himself or seeing an aggressor brought to justice. No, he was motivated by the ego payoff of trying to be a winner in a confrontation and to make me feel bad.

These are the same character traits which guarantee failure with women. It was pretty obvious looking at him that he doesn’t fuck hot girls. Much of the rage and feminised desire for indignation that led him to act out will have been driven by his sexual poverty. The lesson for my dear readers is this: Who you are, how you orient to the world, is a direct determinant of your success with women. Everything about this man and his behaviour was woman-repellant.

Guys who are knocking over hot women on the regular are chill, relaxed, pleasant men. It’s both cause and effect. They don’t seek unnecessary confrontations but when they do they handle it themselves, out in the open.

[Edit – Due to my gamma contingent not understanding the physical layout of a train station and the queueing system in place, I’ve added a photo of a similar such layout.  K.]

Not only do I bang sluts, but I’m rubbish in bed too

October 18, 2012

My site analytics showed me I’d gotten a bunch of hits from this guy linking me:

  • SadVirgin whines: Why oh why do us sad lonely male nerds struggle while jerks like this get all the hot beautiful women? (link to my last lay report)
  • I reply: Because jerks like me put in the hard work to become a sexworthy man. If you shifted your ass and did what I did, you’d get what I get.

Exhibit A

This quite understandably triggers a few responses. Now seeing as a couple of them are reasonably thought out, I think perhaps there’s decent people involved in this website so I invest a little time explaining myself. Here’s some of the early comments. First a reasonable but slightly blue-pill guy:

Anthony: It is absolutely true that you put the work and effort in to becoming ‘sexworthy.’ But your attitude isn’t helpful. Under one caption on your site, it read “I’m entitled to this” or something along those lines. Which is complete bullshit. You’re entitled to your opinion, that’s about it. If you want to break away from the norm and date lots of women and have casual sex, there is nothing wrong with that. More power to you if you can achieve it. But when you have the attitude that you’re entitled or owed sex? Then you’re treading into asshole territory.

There isn’t anything inherently wrong with what you do (the sleeping with women part – the general disregard for their feelings [and I realize it isn’t quite that simple], that’s a different story), but your attitude makes you a jerk. So, I understand why unsuccessful men would take their anger out on you. It’s ill-placed, because being angry at you won’t help them get girls. But, some (if not most) of the hate you receive is well-earned.

Then a hater:

Commonly Known As X: I’m sure you can be the sad old git picking up insecure young women without two much trouble, especially if you travel to places where poverty or recent civil wars mean there is a lot more vulnerable youn women. The women will probably learn a sad lesson in what to avoid as they grow up.

IF of course this whole scenario is real. PUAs almost always remind me of really dorky teenagers bragging about their imaginary conquests. I mean, did he really dump this young hottie or did she suddenly realise that not only was this guy twice her age and half her maturity level, but he was completely selfish in bed. An interest in “sexually inexperienced” women seems like a red-flag for not very good at giving pleasure.

And then a fairly red-pill woman:

Eselle28: Hot beautiful women aren’t rationed out based on the recipient’s moral worth. The jerk in question approaches lots of women, has either developed or learned to fake appealing qualities, and is fishing in waters where he may have a certain extra appeal as an exotic foreigner. I’d say the first step for sad lonely male nerds is to develop a persona beyond “sad lonely” – that’s not a combination anyone finds very attractive.

I think I’d also suggest taking some of these stories with a grain of salt. I suspect that the writer experienced some harsh rejections he’s leaving out, and that at least some of the women he mentions may be more interested in having an exciting fling than suffering from hopeless, virginal love.

So I dispense my opinions in a long reply. I incorrectly assume the above hater is a man(gina), btw, so it’s best to treat my response as a generic rant cos it was off target this time. Oops.

Krauserpua writes:

Anthony – I mostly agree, but I think you also missed most of my humour regarding things like the “entitled” caption. Understandable if you’ve dropped into my blog and haven’t read it long enough to get my writing style. A strong sense of entitlement is actually very important to develop if you want to date hot women – if you don’t believe you deserve them, you won’t push past their screening tests and they’ll agree you don’t deserve them. The hate I receive is mostly from manginas like Commonly Known As X – these are perenial losers who project their own self-loathing onto me and are utterly callous about it. Their total disrespect for anyone they see as non-humans (namely, anyone who enjoys their life) is part of the hateful victim vibe that repels women.

CMaX – You’d kill to experience the sexual abundance I do, as everybody who reads your comment knows full well. The fact I bang hot girls and you don’t burns you up inside because it shakes your whole reality. Let me tell you why. You think you’re special and nicer than every other guy and you double-down on identifying with the feminine to try to get laid. Yet it doesn’t work. So you fall back onto the pretty lie that success in dating is just luck, outside your control. That allows you to avoid taking responsibility for your failures, and you are a failure. Then people like me come along who not only bang girls that you think I shouldn’t be able to, but I even lay out a clear path for how you too can achieve the same success….. if only you put in the same hard work I did. But you’re not willing to do that because you’d prefer to be a loser with pretty lies than go through this tough transition period. Hence you have cognitive dissonance. Rather than resolve it with a winner’s attitude of “lets learn from this” you resolve it with a losers attitude of “lets try to deny and belittle the achievement”. Pure sour grapes. I have no respect for losers like you at all.

Eselle28 – Totally agreed with paragraph one. Paragraph two is usually true but I’m the wrong example. I’ve hyper-documented my blog over 480 posts with infield videos, text message exchanges, facebook chat screenshots, post-lay interviews. I’ve also talked plenty about the harsh rejections. No probs if you didn’t know this, can’t expect everyone to be interested enough in my blog to read every post!

I’ve written 480 posts on how to get good with women and my own personal journey from when I initially couldn’t get laid. My technical mindset ought to appeal to nerds. My journey ought to inspire readers here that they too can succeed. Anthony is quite ironically wrong in saying my attitude is unhelpful – I’ve donated hundred of hours of my time to providing a free online resource that any guy can use to improve his success with women. I’m really fucking helpful to those among you who are willing to put in the hard work. I’m really fucking unhelpful to the spiteful pussies among you who just wanna hate and play victim

I don’t know how long this thread will run, but here it is to follow yourselves:

And to dispense with the red flag about not being good in bed. Damn, you caught me bang to rights, as this girl proves from tonight’s Facebook chat

Girls reading this who wish to be well-serviced: email and photo to krauser[at]rocksolidgame[dot]co[dot]uk. You must be pretty, agreeable and under 27 years old.

Reasons why a woman will have sex with you

October 17, 2012

Men usually have sex for one reason and one alone: he fancies the girl. That’s it. Certainly in my case. Unlike blue pill betas I look at gigolos and male strippers with disgust rather than awe. There are few things I can imagine worse than having sex with an unattractive woman or cavorting around like a clown to a load of vile hootering ‘n’ hollering hen party slags. Seriously, I’d rather flip burgers for minimum wage than get the £75ph these jokers make. Degenerates aside, men have sex for one reason. In contrast, consider this list of reasons girls have given me after I banged them:

  • Felt trapped and stale in long-term relationship. Wanted something new and exciting
  • Anglophile with fantasy of dating English gentleman
  • Seeking to align with a knowledgeable and wise man to guide her life
  • Used to controlling men and fascinated by the challenge of seeing if she can do the same to me
  • So frustrated after years of avoiding sex because the men are inadequate, ready to jump at the chance as soon as it comes
  • On a short holiday and looking for adventure
  • Engaged to be married in a traditional country and wants one last taste of freedom
  • Good friends with me for a long time and thinking of taking a souvenier memory home when her visa expires
  • Loves being dominated against her will so thirsting to be taken
  • On holiday out of sight from an extremely restrictive home country so took a rare chance at hedonism
  • Wanted to have a threesome and I was the only available man above her attraction threshold
  • Unbelieveably turned on by me specifically
  • Totally inexperienced and wanted to be broken in by an experienced man
  • Boyfriend was out of town and the unexpected chance for consequence-free variety presented itself
  • Been reading Fifty Shades Of Grey and on the lookout for someone fitting the bill of her own Christian Grey
  • Stressed out from overwork and not getting a chance to meet anyone
  • Feeling alone and unappreciated in a foreign country so looking for someone’s life to attach to
  • Friends cajoling her to get an English boyfriend
  • Never had an SNL before and wondered what it’s like

This is not to deny basic principles that girls only have sex with men who meet their attraction criteria and with whom they feel sufficiently comfortable. However, it’s never as simple as “she likes me”. Men use sex for the physical pleasure and for the psychological validation. Women have many many reasons because it’s a tool to them. Sometimes those reasons are simply to secure positive emotions (or suppress negative emotions) but often they are incomprehensible.

I bang my first 23yr old Yugoslav dancer

October 16, 2012

I’ve held off writing this report because most of the seduction has been covered in other posts, and because I have some regrets over getting involved with this girl. When I initially got into Game / PUA I had relatively undefined goals. Mixed in with my general desire to make up for lost time (having been in a relationship 9 years and a serial monogamist for most of my adult life) was a more existential desire to bring my love life under my locus o control. In early 2009 I felt powerless and at a loose end, thrust back onto the dating market without any skills to compete. Just go back to my very early posts to get a window into what a low ebb I was at. The Mighty Krauser of today is utterly assured around hot young women and pretty damn confident that a good portion of them will fancy, flirt and fuck him. The Lowly Krauser of 2009 would’ve been happy with 30-year old table scraps. The journey changes who you are and what you feel entitled to.

What I’m entitled to

If you were to roll up my goals and desires in 2009 you’d find a seething tangled toxic mess of desperation, neediness, bitterness and powerlust. Ok, I exaggerate but I had a negative frame and was easy pickings for the siren voices of the Dark Side. My first eye-opening realisation from summer 2009 was that I could start and hold conversations with precisely the pretty young girls that I fancied. That motivated me to keep plugging away through wind, sleet and snow. As summer 2010 arrived I was dating a sweet 22 year old Thai girl that Bhodi probably still fraps off to (if only he had my extensive sex video collection of her 🙂 ). That relationship ran on 8 non-exclusive months while I also had a concurrent relationship with an even sweeter 19 year old French girl. Not only was I getting regular sex with girls who one year ago would’ve seemed forever off-limits, but I had a second eye-opening realisation… these girls were madly in love with me. I’d discovered my natural gift for soul collection deep conversion.

This was a sweet realisation because all my power-hungry fantasies came true. I guess I still had some abandonment issues from my divorce, these issues constantly reinforced in my forebrain by all the MRA websites I was reading at the time. I was seriously mistrustful of women both in the abstract and in person so I built a hard shell around myself as protection and also deliberately screened for young niave girls with limited sexual experience. The Thai had one previous sexual partner four years before meeting me, and the Frenchie one partner a few month earlier. So I developed my Soul Collection theories (and even a six hour presentation on how to do it) and set about a one year reign of terror amongst women’s hearts. It’s well over a year since I last ran amok with these powers and I’ve tried hard to manage girls’ expectations to prevent the kind of destructive heartbreaks I left in my wake. I firmly believe that every time a girl gives herself to a man with love, she gives a bit of her heart. Her capacity to feel niave blissful love for the next guy is permanently diminished by that extent.

It would appear my enduring character traits still steer me towards deep conversion, as my new Yugoslav girl showed.

While touring the former Yugoslavia in July I’d ended up walking down the main promenade with Robusto doing some half-arsed daygame. I pick my girl out a crowd despite her lack of makeup, tightly-pulled ponytail and loose-fitting gym clothes. I just know from her walk, figure and facial structure that she’s my kind of girl. It’s the genuine DNA-tug I discuss in my book. The stop hits well and we idate in a nearby cafe for an hour. She’s hit all my tickboxes:

  • introverted
  • intelligent
  • bookish
  • long legged
  • exotic look, especially high cheekbones and cat-like eyes
  • sexually inexperienced

There’s something bubbling under the surface, a hot spring of sexual energy waiting to be unleashed. We meet again the next night and I get my kiss close and some really good deep rapport. I use her reading of Fifty Shades Of Grey to handle my verbal escalation and sexual naturalisation. She comes to my room but won’t bang just yet. Next evening I finger her in the cafe to give her a Fifty moment. She begs me to stay but I have to go off to another date / lay. Our relationship continues on Skype.

I’m fully expecting to make this girl my new girlfriend. Not exclusively, she overtly confesses she doesn’t expect or require me to stay monogamous although she will, but I’m giving this girl real affection and building an emotional connection I expect to maintain. Quiet whispers from my subconscious are conflicting me but they are so weak as to be easily ignored. I want a girl in Belgrade so I’ll damn well have one. Things progress until we are talking openly about sex, she’s masturbating to text chat, and also she does a video striptease. Things are proceeding swimmingly. We agree for her to come visit me in London for a week (at my expense, she’s a student) so she begins the visa application. She’s thrilled. Not only has she totally fallen for me but she’s never travelled outside Serbia before and London is so so shiny to her. Unexpectedly, a ten day window opens up at work so on a whim I decide to go visit her. My doubts and conduct are discussed here so I’ll not repeat it.

I close her.

A real one, this time

The next evening when I tell her my feelings have died she is mortified. I can read in her eyes, almost see an image of her future crashing down about her. I feel awful but I’ve painted myself into a corner. Her previous (and only) sexual partner treated her like shit, apparently, and dumped her hard. She once told me if I did the same to her she’d break into little pieces so please don’t. I want to let her down gently but that’s like kicking her to death while wearing slippers. There’s only two ways to transition a girl out of a deep conversion:

  1. Patiently over several months allow her emotions and forebrain to disengage from you of their own accord. This requires reducing the frequency of contact (much easier when in different countries), refraining from gathering anymore heart strings in your grasp, reframing towards being a big brother rather than a boyfriend (so she still feels cared for and inside your reality but with diminished sexual energy), and logically clearing her to feel attraction for other men without feeling guilt. Doing this requires months of paying attention to the girl and even then it’s not a smooth ride for her. For a few girls I’ve been more than happy to do so because I retained not just a strong affection for them as people but also decent levels of sexual interest.
  2. Dump her hard and fast. The important cruel-to-be-kind point is that you crush all hope immediately so she has nothing to cling on to that will inhibit the grieving process. So tell her your feelings have died and they won’t rekindle, cut off contact (meaning don’t keep inquiring to her wellbeing or trying to be friends), and leave well alone. In these cases expect the girl to have a traumatic three-week purging process of tears and pleas for reconciliation. Maintain a stony-faced disengagement. Suddenly her feelings will turn and she’ll be over you.

I had zero interest in my Yugoslav girl after the first lay. I think my mind was made up halfway through, actually. I just felt a revulsion to her. It’s a really weird feeling because logically I could see she was still the very pretty girl I felt uninterrupted strong desire for the preceeding three months. Her behaviour was impeccable. There was literally nothing she could’ve done differently to keep me. It must be so frustrating for her. My mind made up I just had to sack up and tell her. Timing is important. Having sex with a girl triggers a cascade of hormonal and emotional responses in her that are not present prior to sex. Players are well aware of the sudden dramatic shift in power in a relationship after the initial lay. The effect is doubly pronounced once you’ve banged her three times as the oxytocin addicition takes over and her final barriers crumble. An old pre-game maxim of mine is bang a girl three times and you own her.

So if you’re gonna cut a girl off hard, do it as soon as you realise that’s the outcome. I did it after the first time. That doesn’t make it painless but considerably less so than if I’d strung her along the rest of the holiday. As a postscript, I’ve heard nothing back from her at all. I think she’s wise enough to know it wouldn’t help her recovery. I feel chastened. My own progress is less advanced than I’d come to believe if I’m lacking the self-awareness to know when I’m deep converting a girl I don’t wish to keep. Perhaps my hunger for power blinds me to the warnings of my core.

Chick Crack: How to make a girl laugh on a date

October 14, 2012

I’ve been back out on a few dates lately and in high spirits after a period of utter laziness and apathy with women. Looking back, I think I was overdoing the poker-face / uninvested aura where I’d not say much, move slowly, and make the girls invest. There’s nothing wrong with it but I have more fun when I’m being active and teasing, making the girl giggle, squeal and pout. So the last few dates I shook off the lethargy and dusted off my old Chick Crack mini-routines. These are little pre-scripted routines you can drop into a conversation at opportune moments to give it spice, up the alpha, and hit an attraction spike. Recent ones I used…

Out shopping

1. That’s so cool

Imagine you’re pottering around a shopping mall or market, looking at clothes, accessories and whatnot. Your attention is suddenly taken by something against the far wall. You tap her shoulder and indicate

  • Me: “Wow, that’s really cool!”
  • Her: “What? What is it?” (comes closer)
  • Me: “Oh… no…. it’s just me” (point at reflection, chuckle)

Do that three or four times during the date as you pass reflective surfaces.

2. I know what she’s thinking

You are walking down the street with the girl on your arm or perhaps sitting on an underground carriage with her leaning into you. You notice some passerby looking at you both, perhaps out of curiosity or boredom. You whisper into your girl’s ear:

  • Me: “That girl is totally checking us out”
  • Her: “Yes, I noticed”
  • Me: “I know what she’s thinking. I can tell”
  • Her: “What?”
  • Me: “She’s thinking how on earth did she find such a cool guy. She’s jealous”

Again rinse repeat several times during the date until it’s a running joke.

3. That’s because you’re a woman

You’ll be in conversation about how your day went, your future plans and so on. Quite naturally she’ll tell you her minor worries such as trying to decide what to get a friend as a birthday present, or completing some application forms for a job. When she verbalises her confusion or anxiety:

  • Me: That’s quite understandable really
  • Her: Mmm…..
  • Me: With you being a woman
  • Her: (doesn’t know what you mean)
  • Me: And only having a little woman-sized brain. Like a pea. It can’t be easy using it to make decisions

Hold your ground with a frame of cheerful misogyny and give physical comfort like a little squeeze on her hand or shoulder.

4. That spot over there

I’m walking through Camden Market with my Russian girl spouting the usual jibber-jabber about the area such as this place used to be a stables or that place sells good leather jackets. I point out a stall ten metres away.

  • Me: Can you see that retro clothes shop over there, with the red and white sign?
  • Her: Yes, I think so
  • Me: When we get to that shop, I’m going to kiss you

Then take your sweet time getting there, looking at all sorts of tat in the other stalls while she gets impatient for the kiss.

5. I’m tough

Anytime you are describing an experience that involves (mild) fear or pain, such as a horror movie, a rollercoaster ride, stubbing your toe getting out the bath finish with this flourish:

  • Me: There were ten of us in the cinema room with all the lights out watching the movie. It was pretty scary
  • Her: (listens)
  • Me: Well, I wasn’t scared. Obviously. I’m tough. But everyone else was scared. Possibly even crying.


  • Me: The sparring was quite hard. We did about twenty minutes in three minute rounds. At one point Lee caught me with a clean right hand, right on the nose
  • Her: ouch!
  • Me: I didn’t feel anything. Obviously. I’m rock. But it would’ve knocked out a normal man.
  • Her: (giggles)
  • Me: He probably hurt his hand. My body is like high tensile steel. Touch here. See! It’s like touching a tank isn’t it.

Zagreb diaries

October 10, 2012

First night in Zagreb is a thunderstorm. Excited teenagers huddle under shop awnings as their Sunday night plans are washed away. I head out to my favourite restaurant for steak and spend the rest of the night at my apartment, chatting on Facebook. Things unexpectedly perk up. Not only does my top girl confirm our Monday evening meeting but another cold lead, a stunningly beautiful Audrey Hepburn-alike, hits me up out of nowhere with “Hey, I see from your status you’re in Zagreb. Sorry I never replied to your messages but I don’t like Facebook chat. Do you want to meet?”. Fuck yeah, she’s a solid nine. I can’t stress enough how much she looks like Audrey Hepburn. It’s not a mere resemblance, she’s a spitting double. I hail mary all the other vaguely-warm Zagreb leads in my phonebook and get four responses out of ten but logistics eventually puts them all on the backburner.

I shit you not

Monday lunchtime Audrey shows up and we spend five hours drinking coffee, then whiskey and finally rum. It’s a funny old date. There’s no question she fancies me but I can feel a barrier and know it’s not on. Deep rapport is perfect and within two hours we are strongly connected and sharing alot of our identities. I really like this girl. But the kino isn’t there, she isn’t reciprocating the verbal escalation and she deftly maintains social distance. This presents something of a quandry. I can’t smoothly escalate but nor can I allow this date to end without making an unambiguous statement of intent. She has to know she’s dealing with a man, not a wuss. So three hours in I make my big move. I’m waiting for a hypnotic scanning moment but several times it almost happens and then she breaks it off just before it gets intense. So next time it happens I just tell her:

  • Me: I want to kiss you now
  • Her: You shouldn’t try
  • Me: *vacuum eyes*
  • Her: I can tell you why, if you want
  • Me: Tell me

She launches into a long explanation about how she does find me attractive and if I’d done this earlier in the year she’d have had sex with me but at the moment she’s hung up on her ex boyfriend and trying to get him back. Harumph! She orders another drink and I just go back to rapport and framing. My best bet is this is 50-50, when logistics clear. That’s better than the 0% I rated it 24 hours earlier. But we say our goodbyes and my mind quickly turns to Vampira (I’ll let a picture of her lookalike explain it)

One in the middle

She’s smoking hot. Properly jaw-dropping sultry beauty in a little ballerina-sized body. Imagine a slavic version of Penelope Cruz in From Dusk Till Dawn. Now this is how it looks when a girl is up for it! We meet in a whiskey bar at 8pm and she’s dolled up well and immediately giving me the eye. She’s in the fashion industry and looks it, dressed like a comic book siren. So I settle into my drink and just let things unfold. She’s knocking the vodka back fast. I know what that means. I hold position and let her come to me. Within an hour she’s climbing over me in the bar so I start looking towards extracting her. She insists on showing me a nearby bar which serves a blueberry liquor (tasty, as it happens) and agrees to the short five minute walk to my apartment giving herself the pretext that she wants to watch the Mad Max 1 rerun that starts two hours later. Pretty quickly she’s topless on my bed and I start breaking down the LMR.

It’s here that something just clicks into place mentally. I suddenly figure out what it is about this girl (and other previous girls) that I really liked sexually versus the girls who I quickly tired of. Vampira has a tight little ballerina’s body but her hips and breasts are almost bursting out of her clothes. They aren’t big per se but there’s a buxom quality to her proportions and skin tone. The closest analogy I can conjure is to imagine an inflated beachball. When fully (perhaps over-) inflated the rubber is struggling to contain the air pushing against it from inside and it takes on a tight stretched look with all the wrinkles pushed out of it. In a girl this is like smooth vibrant skin with good subcuteous fat and strong curves. The girl seems totally in bloom. This I like. Vampira had such a tight young body I was slavering like a hungry wolf. In contrast Myrka looked great in clothes but once they came off she had a slightly deflated look. The taut stretchy vibrance just wasn’t there. And that, dear readers, drains me of the will to fuck a girl.

I made a mental note of it then started biting her ass. “Harder, leave marks” she purrs.

Artist’s impression, yesterday

Just as I start yanking her tights down she tells me “I promised myself I wouldn’t go that far tonight”, and that’s that. I set her hindbrain against it but she’s not budging. So we roll around a bit having our jollies but I’m gonna have to wait another date to fuck her. Harumph!

Next day I drink coffee and fly home to the land of ugly women. God save the queen.

Belgrade Diaries

October 10, 2012

I’m sitting in Zagreb airport sipping a Cedevita orange drink waiting for my gate call, one week after beginning this short jaunt out of London. An unexpected window opened up in my job schedule so with only a few day’s notice I’d gotten in touch with my top Belgrade girl and informed her of an impending whirlwind visit. Pre-framing myself that this wasn’t a gaming holiday I set myself easily attainable goals. Just frollick through the city with her for a few days, taking in the sights, smells and tastes while I catch up on my reading in the pavement cafes when she’s at university. That would be the first five days and then catch two days in Zagreb with my top girl there. I’d consider it a successful trip if I knocked over either girl, finished three books, and washed off the memory of work. I very much pre-framed myself out of doing daygame because I just didn’t want the pressure of relentlessly approaching ’till I got laid. This was about relaxation.

It turned out a little different.

First night I walk out my little private apartment and onto the main promenade to meet my girl (we’ll call her Myrka, after the porno actress she closely resembles), the streets bustling with the early evening crowd. Already my head is turning every minute as another beautiful Krauser girl totters past. London this is not. In the short walk to Coffee Dream I’ve seen at least twenty girls who excite me more than the girl I’m about to meet. It’s reminiscent of my July trip in Istanbul where I was walking around with my Turkish ex, a famous actress, and while every male head was turning to gawp at her my head was gawping at the young tight Turkish girls who made my blood bubble far more than the older lady I was with. I know there’s a problem. I shouldn’t feel like this on the way to a date with a girl I feel genuine affection for, a low-eight. Certainly not a grotty pump’n’dump candidate.

After eating in the traditional restaurant district I take Myrka home and fuck her. She’s completely deeply converted, more than willing to let me defile every orifice and treat her however I deem appropriate. But I just don’t have the will for it. I send her home and I’ve already lost interest in her. It’s not a nice feeling. Much soul searching follows.

My number two Serb confirms she’s not making the 4-hour trip from her hometown because she can’t face lying to her parents about it. I’ll get this girl next time but I’m not sure if I should. I’m feeling quite dark sided and uncomfortable with it.

Next day I can no longer resist so I knock out five or six sets until I get a weak-looking number from a smoking hot volleyball player (we’ll call her Maria, after the fitness model she closely resembles) and a dappy 18 year old tart I idate for an hour. The latter seems like a solid prospect but her mum calls and cockblocks. She goes on to facebook for long game and mummy’s visit means I don’t see her again this trip. I meet Myrka again to test my feelings, see if I’m just getting a low-libido revulsion and that I actually still fancy her but no, it’s gone. I’m cold. We watch the new Total Recall in the cinema and the whole time my mind is on hitting the streets to rustle up new targets. Secure Attachment Pug is off chasing cars, Relentless Notch Count Hyena is scratching at the door for the first time in months. I tell Myrka its over and she nearly collapses. A new alpha widow.

The third day rolls around and I try to recover my original plan, sipping coffee and working through my books. It’s impossible. Hot girls are everywhere. Not necessarily approacheable because Belgrade girls rarely walk solo but enough to keep my attention wandering. I see a hot solo girl go past and put down my book to give chase….. and some awkward asian guy flies past and opens her with a really clumsy street stop. Harrumph! Once you’ve daygamed you always recognise it so I look around for his coach and who may that be but James Marshall. I’m not letting these streets go uncontested! A smoking hot Krauser Girl ambles by and I claim her. Nice girl, but its not on. I do a few more sets and end up with another two numbers while Maria is returning my texts. She seems keen.

I’m at a low point now. It’s the first time in three years I’ve gamed a foreign country without a wing. Solo foreign daygame is hard. You have to really control your state. There’s a whole mix of emotions mostly trying to talk myself out of gaming (“this is meant to be a reading holiday”) knowing full well that my core is driving me to find new girls. Maria texts to say she’s finished university late (this is Friday evening) and is going home. My Hail Mary invite hits and she comes out to meet me late on. As she struts across Republica Square many heads turn and I congratulate myself inwardly. The date goes very well, stretching out till past midnight and several bars. She’s got a tight rein on herself so I know there’s no hope of a first night lay. Perhaps someone of Steve‘s calibre could pull it off, but I’m at the stage where knocking over eights is usually a multi-date challenge. Deep rapport goes beautifully and she really warms to the questions game telling me it’s a month since she had sex (her only ever sexual partner), she’s only ever kissed ten boys, and her most embarrassing secret is she likes to lock herself in the bathroom and dance to her ipod. The date ends with a non-committal peck on the lips but I know this girl is well into me. A couple more dates and there’ll be another deep conversion. My mood has lifted.

Saturday comes and I struggle out of bed at noon. I’m still having the internal to-daygame-or-not-to-daygame struggle. As I walk to Coffee Dream for late breakfast the choice is made for me when another cute Krauser Girl goes by. Another number. Over coffee Maria texts to request a second date within the hour. Ok, suits me. James Marshall walks past me with another student so I introduce myself then head off to the date.

I have the most enjoyable afternoon of the trip, walking along the river, through quaint streets, sharing coffee, sitting in the park. It’s five hours of delightful company with Maria on my arm. My ego loves how many passersby clock us and head turn. Every time a hot girl does it I go into my little chick crack routine:

  • Me: I know what she’s thinking, you know
  • Her: What?
  • Me: She’s looking at you and thinking “how the hell did she find a guy like him? where can I get one?”

I still don’t fuck her but this is Belgrade not LA. She asks for my email and we’ve been chatting since. So I leave Belgrade having upgraded my local girl from a low-eight to a high-eight. I feel mercenary. The bus trundles on towards Zagreb and I have low expectations for the two days I’ll be there. No time to game and only 70% sure my top target will turn up as promised on the last day (she’s off in her hometown for the weekend)…. to be continued…..