Krauser PUA | Page 7

Stateless Game

May 13, 2013
krauserpua

Emotional control is the foundation upon which all game rests. By mastering your emotions you can direct your vibe which will in turn align all of the micro-behaviours that a girl’s hindbrain reads. Good micro-behaviours (i.e. subcommunication) leads to imprinting the girl with a positive intuitive assessment of you and thus smoother interactions. This is why some men can do almost comically bad conversations and still get the girl – they were excelling at the 90% of communication that is non-verbal.

It’s generally believed that achieving good state is the core of good game. The argument goes as follows: Wake up feeling good about yourself and head out onto the streets. After a few awkward warm-up sets you’ll start to slip into a social vibe, gradually building momentum. Eventually a run of good interactions cause you to “hit state” and then you can open everything, hook everything and that’s when the magical sets happen.

This is not wrong. It’s just a massive pain in the arse.

Chasing state, yesterday

The reality of daygame is that there simply aren’t enough pretty girls around to keep the momentum flowing. There aren’t enough girls that you can afford to waste the first ten sets trying to hit state. Ok, you could do it but it’s so wasteful. You know your game is getting tighter if you get more girls, better girls, and expend less effort. Hamstringing yourself to the goal of peak state prevents progress because:

Trying to force yourself into state takes alot of emotional energy and is inauthentic. You are trying to make yourself feel something you don’t actually feel.
Once you start to improve your state you become outcome dependent on keeping that little glimmer alive. More emotional energy expended.
In the long periods between sets you get into your head trying to keep your state. Holding your state up is like holding a medicine ball in the air. Eventually you tire and it drops.
You can frame yourself over the long term into a negative thought pattern of “I’m only successful when I’m in state” or in the short term of “I won’t approach this girl because I haven’t hit state yet”
Girls can sense the inauthenticity if you’re trying to state leech from them, as with your wings. You can end up in destructive state wars with your wings until one or both of you crash (noobs should especially watch for this “value tap” behaviour from more experienced players)
Daygame becomes much harder work than it ought to be. You are giving yourself an internal opponent to fight. It’s a fight that doesn’t need to happen.

Peak state is good. When you hit it, embrace it. But don’t try to manufacture it. Far better is to drill yourself in stateless game. It’s advanced stuff and not for everyone but give it a try. Essentially you are following this principle:

I feel however I feel and that’s okay. So I will use this authentically and rely on that authenticity to carry me through.

I’m coming to believe that authenticity trumps state (and is equal to vibe*). Forcing a high state is essentially qualifying to the girl by telling her “who I am at this moment is not good enough to get you, so I will expend great effort in forcing myself to be a happier version of myself just to impress you”. Instead just accept your current state. For example:

If you’re feeling flat and low energy, work with that. Maybe do light side-on opens at a traffic light rather than run-around front stops. Let your vocal tone stay light, flat and disinterested.
If you’re feeling cocky, go that route. Ostentatiously stop a hard-walking girl, let your eyes shine, smirk insolently and use an outrageously teasing opener.
If you’re feeling horny, go sexual. Pick out a girl who has the ovulating vibe, eye fuck the hell out of her, encroach her space. Hold that hand a long time.
If you’re completely lacking creative inspiration just tell the girl she looks nice and drop a generic cold read and tease on her. Leave silences, let her talk.

Stateless game, today

Stateless game is not a list of instructions to follow, its a mindset. Fundamentally you are shrugging the weight of “hitting state” from your shoulders. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Do you think those approach monkeys running up and down Oxford Street every evening are happy? Allow yourself to instead reach a zen-like calm of whatever will happen will happen. Just flip over those stones, let your authentic state come out, and rely upon your well-drilled Game to just navigate the set for you without getting in your head about state. There’s nothing to be scared of on the streets. Conserve your mental energy by exerting emotional control. You are not pushing water uphill, you are letting it find its natural level and then swimming in that.

And then should peak state ever creep up upon you, milk it while its there and don’t mourn its absence when it leaves.

* Crudely put, state is the power of your energy glow / aura and your attunement to the micro-rhythms of the street. Vibe is your internal level of calm, balance and boundaries. State is far more volatile than vibe.

I bang my first 25 yr old Russian aerobics instructor

May 9, 2013
krauserpua

It’s a manosphere truism that women love dominant men and yearn for someone strong enough that they can surrender to him and bask in the pleasant womanly feelings of submission. Girls can read you very quickly and become ruthlessly efficient at screening out the legions of pushover boring beta males. When you street stop her you’ve set yourself apart. When you tease early in the set her ears prick up. When you steamroll through her shit tests she becomes very interested. The girl begins to hope she’s finally found a man worth submitting to. Then you have a strong hook.

This sort of thing

While walking into a cafe in some second-tier Western Russian city I see a cute little gypsy girl ambling along. She’s got a petite dancer’s body, ass-length thick black hair and wild fiery gypsy eyes. My type all over and quite a contrast to the usual greyhounds. I’m immediately cocky and she’s pushing back from the beginning. There’s a strong spark in the air, her showing far more fire than the usual Russian coldness. I take a number and move on for my coffee date with another girl. The texting goes well. I’ll do a full transcript because it’s instructive to see the balance of Russian chode game mixed with defiant cocky game. You can easily see the major phase shifts as the game turns further my way.

Me: It was a pleasure, young lady 😉

Her: Really )

Me: How is your friends’ meeting? Lots of girl chatter, I think….

Her: No, one girl, a lot of stories and sweets ))) [she looks keen]

Me: And probably a glass of wine 🙂

Her: Without, and u

Me: I met my friends in Red Star Cafe. It has a great atmosphere

Me: [next day] Good afternoon my new gypsy-style friend 🙂 How are you?

Her: Hi, working

Me: Let’s get a quick drink after work. 6pm?

Her: I work at the 2nd work ) [She’s not investing and playing a little hard to get]

Me: ok [Shift 1. I signal I’m not going to mess around and chase hard]

Her: Truly, I’m a trainer ) after the main work [she realises I won’t be strung along, girls often need a soft push to give a fear of loss]

Me: When do you finish?

Her: At 9, but then I run to the train – I go to parents )

Me: I knew you were trouble when I saw you! [Shift 2 – reframe her difficulty showing social acuity and playfully changing the tone]

Her: Really ))) I just don’t seat at one place ) [she likes it, attraction is increased so she wants to test my value]

Her: And if I was so trouble, why u came to me [test]

Me: Because you need a strong man to tame you 😀 [lay on the man vibe]

Her: I didn’t ask u, what do I need, I asked, why did u come ) [test]

Me: I already told you. You should pay more attention! [smash it out the park]

Her: I shouldn’t ) [test]

Me: You just earned your first ass-spanking, naughty girl [escalate]

Her: U shouldn’t talk so with me ) [test]

Me: Does that make me a bad man? [reframe]

Her: A veeeery bad man )))) [Shift 3 – passed test, she’s very interested now]

Me: Ha!

Her: Ha?

Me: It’s a bad man laugh 😉

Her: I see

I’ve been averaging a few dates each day so I only give her two hours of my time when we meet the next afternoon. We begin sitting opposite each other on a high table in a cafe, it’s about 6pm. I lean back and roll off a custom DHV and comfort stack. There’s a great photobook of the city on the bookshelf so I take it down and make fun of how backward and commie her country is. This girl wants a master so I know to attack her frame. Every tease moves it further along. She’d later tell me she decided to fuck within the first twenty minutes of the date – “Once I realised how confident you are”.

We go upstairs to the alcohol only section which has dark mood lighting and soft leather sofas. I’d already played with her hands and hair downstairs so once the waitress brings drinks I do the “floppy test” (credit Tom) and then kiss close. We make out alot while I pour in comfort. I take her for a short walk outside, pointing out my apartment in the distance. There’s no time to push for a Day 2 lay (I have an 8pm date lined up) so I just lead her around and reinforce the frame. It’s massively on. A sample from our chat as we walk:

Me: I’ve noticed I attract lots of stares in this city. Even girls holding hands with their boyfriends check me out. [this is true]

Her: It’s easy to understand. It’s obvious you are so much more confident than the other guys here. [massive IOI and she’s betraying how lucky she feels to be here]

After a day of post-date comfort texting, I set up the next one. Note here how it’s possible to agree to have sex without once mentioning it. Girls communicate covertly.

Me: Are you at work?

Her: Yes, I do

Me: I want to meet you tonight. Dress pretty! [forcing the dominance frame]

Her: Hm, why? )))

Me: Because I like my girl to be pretty, of course. Do you have a favourite dress?

Her: Ok, which do you want: short and sexy or elegant?

Me: That’s a tough choice! Short and sexy – just like you 😀

Her: Or something between 2 variants )

Me: Which wine do you prefer, red or white? [This is the covert signal that this is to be a sex date]

Her: Red

Me: Me too. I’ll get a bottle of German. Better than the Russian stuff… [covert statement of intent]

Her: I don’t drink Russian ) [acceptance]

Me: Vodka is the exception 🙂

Her: Did u taste it? )

Me: Of course. I love vodka. But more of a whiskey man

Her: I mean Russian vodka

Me: Russian vodka, Scottish whiskey

Her: ))) not bad mix )

Me: I love to sit in a leather chair with a Cuban cigar and a good whiskey 🙂

Her: Sounds great, who doesn’t love this ))

Me: Meet me outside Double Coffee [Note its outside, I intend to walk her directly to my apartment]

Her: when

Me: 9pm

Her: Ok. Red lips? [covert confirmation of sex date]

Me: Yes! [agreement]

She shows up nicely dolled up so I give her a light kiss, put her on my arm and then walk her to a wine store on the short walk to my apartment. No resistance or questions – she’s come to fuck. Up in my room I do the usual shoes off / music / leave her alone five minutes while I clean my teeth / pour wine. I sense she needs a little more comfort so I let her browse my facebook photos. Then close. Zero LMR.

Funnily I get a big dip in mood right after. She’s pestering me for seconds but I just want rid of her. I don’t realise until the next morning but I was coming down with a ‘flu that would curtail my holiday gaming and render me a shivering sweating mess for a week. Three new girls in six days is too much for an old codger like me. Add in the relentless approaching, multi-date days, and the human body is simply not designed to have so many romantic interactions. I relapsed into a Gamer Shell Shock.

I add her to Facebook and later quiz her about the pickup. If you somehow don’t believe in manosphere wisdom then hearing it explicitly stated by the girl herself ought to help:

Frequently Asked Questions

May 8, 2013
krauserpua

Every day I delete at least one comment of some moron who hasn’t bothered to read more than a handful of my posts and thus expects me to waste my own time answering a question already answered elsewhere on the blog. However I do appreciate that not everyone wants to read all 500+ posts on here. So I’ve decided to add a permanent FAQ. From now on I will not answer any comment that is already dealt with there. I’ll probably update the page over time. This is draft one.

1. Comments

First and foremost understand that I do not give a shit about you. I have a one-way connection to the pickup community in which I write whatever I want and then you choose to read it or not. Don’t for a moment think you have a stake in this blog or any kind of claim on my time. I do not have a Book Of Rules where you can point to section 1.2 article A to demand some kind of preferred behaviour from me. So if you act like a dickhead in the comments I’ll ridicule you, debate you or delete you entirely depending on what I think is appropriate at that point in time. Regular readers with normal social skills will do fine.

I’ve been writing for years and chances are I’ve already answered your question somewhere in this blog. Therefore I will not waste my time on you just because you can’t be bothered to do your own research.

I have no tolerance for comments from angry morons whose sole motivation for commenting is to tear down what I’ve painstakingly built. If my life shakes your reality, tough shit. Stop reading. If you find a less-than-satisfactory response to your comment ask yourself this – “what was I trying to achieve with my comment?” If the answer is showing off, nitpicking, gamma-raged reality-denying or any other such inauthentic emotion then you can be sure it was blindingly obvious to everyone reading it.

2. Who are my readers?

Despite the above I do care for some of my readers. Probably half of my motivation for writing is to provide a detailed path for well-intentioned disciplined guys who wish to follow in my footsteps. I’ve met with and had correspondance with such men and its rewarding for me to know they’ve sidestepped landmines I had to trod on myself. I find Game a topic of fascinating complexity and like any hobbyist talking shop I like to have an audience / peers of similar interests and sophistication.

My ideal reader, the guy I subconsciously imagine I’m writing for, is late 30s, average but unremarkable looks, >120 IQ and spent most of his life as a dependable blue pill worker. He’s got the discipline to succeed in whatever he turns his mind to, the strength of character to persist against hardship, and the willingness to confront his own demons. He’s probably also done at least 500 daygame sets and is getting laid occasionally with normal girls who aren’t too bad to look at. I guess you could say I’m talking to intermediate players mostly.

3. Are you racist / sexist / homophobic?

Yes. That said, I reject the labels because rather than describing any kind of character trait or reality the “-ist” labels are really just smear weapons to shut down debate and force compliance of the subject in his own destruction. The worst discrimination in the UK is visited on white straight males. That’s not to say we have the worst quality of life, just that when we succeed its due to the value we are able to give to the world rather than being propped up by value stolen by others.

There is unquestionably a Feminine Imperative attack on men. In the past 40 years there’s been an unquestionable attack on white English with mass immigration and aggressively-foisted multiculturalism. Crime stats by race really do prove that ethnics are far far more criminal than whites in the UK. Blacks really do own shootings, stabbings, muggings, gang-rape and interracial street violence. Arabs and pakistanis own terrorism, ethnic cleansing of city districts and 10-on-1 street attacks. Fag culture really is a degenerate attack on all things civilised (see Jack Donovan’s “flamboyant dishonour” concept).

Any individual can transcend his race, just like any white person can shame his own. I judge people on their individual merits and find that the 50% of any given race who are right-side-of-the-bell-curve are generally law-abiding net-positive wealth creators. Hence I have (a few) black, arab and pakistani friends. I see the world as it really is and generally speaking what we call “civilisation” is really the product of a tiny group of historically great white European men. Nowhere else has ever produced it (I don’t count the slave-based societies as civilised, nor those that got rich paying white men to extract their oil and then exchanging it for white-produced goods and managerial expertise). Even within the UK, probably less than 10% of men have the Civilisation Gene.

4. Where’s the proof?

You missed it. For a couple of years I consistently posted infield videos of street pickups, dates, and lays. I also posted real photos of the girls and lengthy text and chat transcripts. Many of those have since been taken down. I don’t have to prove anything to you. If you don’t believe me, don’t read me.

5. I need help with x, y, z

Tough shit. Pay a coach for his time or do your own research. I’ve written enough on this blog that my advice on your problem is somewhere on the site. Do some work. If you expect to come onto my blog and demand a freebie then here’s my advice: that attitude is precisely your problem and why you don’t get laid. There’s nothing free in this world. Successful men must carve their own openings from a hostile unyielding world. If you think someone is just gonna drop their tools and come running to your aid then you have entitlement issues. You’re probably gamma. As noted above, you have no claim on me. It’s really messed-up to think that just because I offer lots of value for free that I’m therefore beholden to you to offer more. No. Fuck off.

6. The HB8.72 that I dated the other night said…

Three points:

If you are using the HBX.XX scale at all then you are rubbish at game and likely have the wrong mindset about how to acquire tight game
It’s really obvious that you are qualifying to me and my readers, trying to elbow your way into being taken seriously. Stop doing it, it makes you look weak
I’ve already mentally subtracted three points from the score you gave her. Almost everyone on the internet is flat-out lying about the quality of women they consort with.

7. Do looks matter?

Yes, massively so. The dirty secret in the community is that almost all of the name players who get laid can fit into one of these categories:

Tall good-looking guy who really ought to be getting laid alot even without game.
Scenester who has an in with rock / indie / hipster girls. These are highly promiscuous social circles where no game is required.
Hard worker with no standards. This guy is relentlessly churning out sets and will fuck anything, though you’ll only ever see photos of the very best girls he meets.
A liar.

There’s very very few players out there who are getting laid primarily on the basis of their game. That’s why my golden rule is you must be fucking girls who are physically better-looking than you are. Also the greater the age difference, the more impressive. It’s incredibly easy for a 23yr old guy to bang a 21yr old women. I did it plenty with zero game when I was that age. Every five years you add to the age difference makes closing an order of magnitude harder. Banging a girl 15 years your junior is very difficult.

Game works. The above 1-3 guys will fail if their anti-game is so bad they constantly fuck up (which is most men) but don’t assume just because a guy gets laid that he therefore has game. Lots of people get laid due to other reasons. Game is a value-add that gets you more women and better women. It gets you women without paying the “price” of exclusivity, waiting, losing the frame, spending money, losing your soul.

8. It’s not fair! waaaaaaah!

Psychologists call this the “just world hypothesis” – a believe that the world has some kind of karmic-balancing force that rewards the just and punish the evil. Combine that with your own self-delusion and ego-protecting buffers and you’ll naturally consider yourself as on the side of the just and owed a reward of pussy. The harder you work the greater the reward you demand and thus the angrier you get when it’s not forthcoming. This is a vicious cycle of creepiness and avoidance. To break it just learn to accept reality as it really is and process the feedback it gives you.

When you see a winner, try to learn from him. I’ll guarantee he didn’t just spring into the world as a winner. What you see and envy now is the end product of years and years of hard graft, risks taken, and opportunities seized. That winner was a loser many times over but everytime he fell off the horse he got right back on.

9. How do record your sets?

Almost every video I’ve ever posted was recorded with a cheap 8GB watch camera or a small black gum cam. See this post for details. With these being cheap Chinese imports I never figured out how to set the text file to use the correct date. Thus most of the videos have a time stamp of 01/01/2008 or suchlike. The correct dates are within a month of the post itself.

10. What are your stats?

I have no idea. Click the lay reports tab to see most of my lays. There’s about a dozen I never wrote up and another half dozen I wrote up and have since taken down. I’m not a high-notch guy. Don’t get too tied up in the numbers or they’ll hold you back. Much of your improvement with women will come from letting it all go and learning not to be so hard on yourself, to just be in the moment and focus on the ebbs and flows of the interaction. Keeping spreadsheets and tracking stats gives you extra things to worry about and the illusion of control. Ditch them.

11. You are my hero

There’s a fine line between respecting a mentor and worshipping a guru. By all means learn from my successes and failures but don’t kid yourself that I have all the answers. Use my blog for what you can learn from it but always keep an emotional distance and remain your own man. Some of the cornerstone characteristics of a sexually attractive male are his boundaries, sense of self, entitlement, stubborness, and refusal to live his life in service of others. Hero worship retards your development of those characteristics. Don’t be retarded.

12. Why do you do daygame?

According to the Myers-Briggs personality test I am an INTJ. I strongly recommend all my readers to self-administer this test. My personality type is drawn towards lone wandering, deep authentic communication and independence. I can’t stand nightclubs, cultivating social circles, status-whoring and other extroversions. Daygame perfectly synchs to my character. I like to walk around alone with my thoughts, stopping occassionally to talk to a girl. I don’t like to make small talk with people I’ll never see again. I don’t like the demands on my attention of being in groups. Per Myers-Briggs only 4% of men have my character and thus my style is a niche taste. It might not be right for you.

On a more practical note, the best Game plays to your strengths. I am highly educated, intelligent, erudite, creative and above all a good talker. I am not tall, good looking, social or high energy. Thus I can best deliver my value on the streets one-to-one and sober. I struggle to get my value out in a nightclub.

13. What you said doesn’t agree with Mystery / Style / Tyler / Roissy

Mystery and Style are bullshitters who wrote some good material and played a pivotal role in shaping the community but they were not good with women. Tyler is a fantastic analyst but strikes me as weird and not good with women. Roissy is a great writer but his brand of nihilistic game is better suited for where he shaped it – East coast metropolitan America.

Pick any pickup theorist and you’ll find any number of legitimate reasons why they’d disagree with me. They have a different personality, are working a different social mileau, target different girls, want different things, have different strengths and weaknesses etc. In other cases they don’t really disagree its just comparing apples to oranges. Read what you can and over time you’ll formulate your own game.

14. What is your opinion on x, y, z

It’s on my blog. Use the search function. If I haven’t written about it already then likely I don’t care / don’t have an opinion, or I consider it outside the thematic scope of my blog. Just to contextualise my general worldview this might help. I believe the following:

Government is intrinsically evil and inefficient. It’s only legitimate functions are to protect the borders, maintain domestic order, and provide a means of settling contracts. The classic Nightwatchman State of philosophical liberalism. Thus I like Ayn Rand, John Locke and the unamended US Constitution.
Free market capitalism is the greatest form of human organisation yet invented, providing the optimal balance between wealth creation and freedom of individual self-determination. History has shown every single departure from this model (feudalism, socialism, mercantalism, social democracy) significantly worsens the human condition and will lead to enslavement or collapse. Most western societies are closer to socialism than capitalism but its disguised. For example the Bank Of England is a fundamentally socialist institution – it centrally plans the most important price in the economy – the cost of money.
The world is not fair and nature doesn’t care if you’re happy. You must set your own goals and try to achieve them. What we now call “morality” is basically a conflation of two different things 1) the intersection of mutual self-interest in a I-scratch-your-back-you-scratch-mine and I-won’t-kill-you-if-you-don’t-kill-me 2) a web of lies to encroach your frame and bullshit you into giving up your value to moochers and looters.

I don’t care if you disagree with me. I’ve stated my opinions and its not open to debate. Feel free to disagree, just don’t expect me to care.

I bang my first Latvian 31 year old Julia Roberts lookalike

May 7, 2013
krauserpua

My second day of daygame is going pretty well and on one narrow strip outside a shopping mall I take three solid numbers in about fifteen minutes. The pick of the bunch is an extremely leggy brunette with shoulder-length mousey hair and elegant retro fashion. I do a strong stop teasing her for being flamingo-like in her walk and for the whole five minutes she’s cooing and giggling, utterly thrilled to be there. We swap numbers and facebook then she tells me she’ll be on a business trip to St Petersburg for a few days but yes we should have a drink when she returns.

An easy go-to for long-legged girls

That Saturday night we meet up in a whiskey and cigar bar. It’s busy so I take a bar stool which turns out to be a great move. I can face the barman when doing mild takeaways, giving her my shoulder and lazily running my eyes over the whiskey bottles racked against the wall mirror. The position also lets me test kino by touching my leg against hers, putting my foot on her stool footrest and easy upper body touching. So now as a general rule I think I’ll do barstools or standing up in bars on first dates. Everything is easier without the barrier of a table.

For half an hour I run my usual patter dropping in DHVs on travel, lifestyle and funny lame-to-fame stories (mine include two members of the Rolling Stones apologising to me, almost having a fight with the reigning sumo champ in Tokyo, and using the same urinal as the football captain of England – all true). Her eyes are spazzing, she’s fiddling with her drink, hair twirling. It’s all there. This girl really fancies me. Unfortunately she has a cold. A high value man would not risk catching a cold just to kiss a girl. So my escalation flips over into eye contact and verbals only. She’s on my arm as we walk down the street and everyone is staring. She looks just like Julia Roberts. Properly like her. Same endless legs, long arms, huge smile, eyes. She’s tarted up in a green sleeveless cocktail dress and nice jewellry. Stunning, an archetypal greyhound. The only problem is her age – at 31 her skin is losing its vibrance.

But not a whore

At the second bar we are sitting across a table and now enter some strange territory. I can’t physically escalate but I want to make my move so…. what to do? On this trip I’ve really upped the radical honesty and explicitly refering to the subtext of the situation. So for example I’ve frequently said to girls on the street things like “Do you have a boyfriend?” and “I’m talking to you as a man, because as a woman you are pretty” etc. I suggest the questions game to this girl as follows:

Ok, let’s play a question game. We’ll take turns asking questions. You can ask me anything at all. I won’t get angry and I’ll tell you the absolute truth. Make them difficult questions. Think what you want to know about me.

We ping pong for over half an hour. I’m asking how old she was when she first kissed a boy, the most unusual place she had sex, what she looks for in a man, what she likes about me. We get into deeper and deeper rapport and she’s getting turned on. I can see it in her eyes. I strongly recommend this game but you must really be truthful. For example she asked what I want from her so I replied “I’m not looking for anything serious. I find you sexually attractive and you have exactly the mix of height, class and introversion that I most like in a woman.”

Then a switch is flipped. It’s like she goes into a trance and barely speaks. We are just sitting across the table staring into each other’s eyes. There’s so many things going on at different levels and at different times. Sometimes its a shit test to see if I’ll drop eye contact or break the sexual tension with an offhand comment. Other times it’s hypnotic scanning to read my identity. Still other times she’s thinking hard about what she wants. For my part I keep shifting the thoughts I project. Sometimes I eyefuck her and visualise how she’ll look naked on my bed while I fuck her. Other times I soften up and invite her to read me. I also challenge a little by projecting “I can play this game better than you, woman. Every moment you stare you are falling into my trap.”

She loves it. Electricity crackles. Finally she breaks and talks.

I ask her what she reads in me and her response is surprisingly accurate. She says I don’t seem happy so I flesh it out a bit and say I’m happy because I’m living exactly the life I choose but I’m not satisfied because some of the things I want are impossible without trade-offs I refuse to make. She asks if I trust women and I say yes and no. On the one hand they can’t be trusted like men to be true to their word or to follow a code of morality but on the other hand I can trust them like I trust a dog, or a chair – I can trust them to follow their nature so by understanding that and holding them to those expectations I am never disappointed. Radical honesty. It melts her.

She asks what I read in her. I say something to the effect of:

Me: You are fascinated by me. You find me attractive and very interesting, like no man you’ve met before. You’ve realised that we are not compatible in the long term but you are curious how it would be to have sex with me. So right now you are trying to decide whether to come home with me and have sex, or to go home and sleep.

Her: Yes, that’s about right.

After we get the bill she goes home saying she just doesn’t feel well. We agree to meet again when she’s recovered. A bit of texting back and forth establishes that she spent all of Sunday in bed and by Monday feels good. So we meet again in a cafe bar near my apartment. She’s dolled up great again and her heels put her several inches above me. More heads turn. I look at her clothes and manner and it feels on.

This sort of figure

I get a lucky break because the cafe is closing at 10pm (it’s 9:20 when we meet) due to a private event. So we have a drink, I keep fairly solid without too much pull and then towards ten I suggest a wine at my place.

Her: You know I still haven’t decided.

Me: That’s no problem. We’ll just have a drink and listen to music.

So I lead her back and I know its a done deal. Up the stairs, shoes off, music on. Wine poured. Within five minutes she’s lying on my sofa with her tongue down my throat. The escalation is fast. Five minutes later she’s naked on my bed. Zero LMR. It’s an earth-shattering fuck. She’s screaming, climbing the walls, eyes popping out, scratching. I do her in the shower, on the floor and do a one-man DP that has her gasping in shocked ecstasy “what are you doing to me?”. During a break she’s just gazing at me, chin rested on her hands, massive smile that says “I can’t believe how lucky I am. Is it even possible for sex to be this good.” I tell her “Now you know why I’m so confident.”

I send her home with dried cum on her face. A very satisfying notch.

Enjoy The Decline – review

May 2, 2013
krauserpua

As I lie here in my hammock listening to the clatter of squirrels running up and down my garden trees, soft jazz on my speakers, I consider getting up to replace the now-melting ice in my tumbler of Johnnie Walker Double Black. It’s roasting hot, the London weather having finally turned good. Not that I was here for the bad weather. All of February was spent on the beaches of Rio, sandwiched on either side by two trips to Barcelona to bang my Belarussian and Romanian girls respectively. I guess there’s alot of guys sitting in cubicles this afternoon. The lucky ones have window seats so they can at least look at the weather I’m enjoying.

But where was I? Ah…. something about enjoying the decline….

Not strictly accurate

A couple of weeks ago during my tour of several FSU countries I had one of those Fridays that stick in the memory. I woke up in my downtown apartment and shuffled off to a cafe for an 11am breakfast with Anastasia, a 21yr old Russian microbiologist. We had a walk around the nearby park, kissed a little then I let her go. 3pm was an afternoon coffee first date with Deria, a 23yr old fashion designer. We chatted, held hands a bit and then made out at the steps to her subway home. Just before that date I’d seen Dasha walking into a grocery store and introduced myself. She’s a slim 23yr old too so we swapped numbers and I had a 4:30pm drink with her. Another makeout which she said was strange “because I have a boyfriend and we just met”. Round about 6pm the sky takes on an early dusk tinge and my tummy is rumbling. So I take Elena out for pizza, my new 22yr old ballerina girlfriend. I round off the day with a two-hour 9pm cocktail bar drink with Inna, a tall 19 year old dancer who has her hand on my dick before rushing off to join her friends for some nightclubbing. I go home, close my eyes and wonder….. am I really living this?

I dated five “eights” in one day, all the right side of 25, all exquisitely feminine, all thrilled to be in my company and all good hard make outs. All on a multi-country Euro tour that I booked on a whim, without saving up and without asking permission from anybody.

I don’t do this everyday, but it does happen.

Minimalists design their own covers

Aaron Clarey‘s new book Enjoy The Decline finishes with an impassioned plea to live life to its utmost because we only get one time on this earth and living well is the best revenge on the Leftists who have destroyed our civilisation. Judging by the hater comments I delete, I guess that’s what I’m doing. I just finished his book in one sitting so I guess a review is in order.

Much has been made recently on the bitter taste of the red pill, that destabilising sense of loss as your pretty lies perish and you realise that as a right-of-the-bell-curve male you are the power plant that the rest of society lives off and yet…. you don’t get to enjoy any of its fruits. How do you hold yourself together as reality crumbles and the white picket fence respectability you were taught to crave has been exposed as an unattainable high-risk at best, or a decorated gulag cabin at worst? How are we to navigate the minefield? I’ve written two of three parts on my path. Foundations. Accumulation… and I needn’t write the last part because this book does a more comprehensive version that I’m about 90% in agreement with. Let’s recap ~~Ayn Rand’s~~ Aaron’s basic thesis.

America (and construed widely, the West as a whole) has unequivocably and permanently chosen socialism. We are therefore fucked, the path to ruin and decivilisation locked in. As the producers of the world are we to throw ourselves under the bus for the good of the moochers and looters, or should we shrug as did Atlas? Aaron suggests we Go Galt and spends his book laying out the case.

That’s you, that is

First up is an economic summary which will be familiar to Mish‘s readers. It’s an Austrian-lite summary for non-specialists going through the basic problems of debt-to-GDP, unfunded liabilities, overtaxation and public sector crowding out. The economic conclusion is that employment opportunities in the traditional careers are dead, the boomer generation will milk its descendents dry and just don’t bother. The American Dream is dead. It’s all sound stuff. He seems to err towards inflationism whereas I’m of the opinion we are in a permanent deflationary spiral but that’s a minor objection.

The solution is to embrace minimalism and self-interest. Declare to yourself that you live for yourself first. To throw off the parasites you will starve the beast by deliberately ratcheting down your income to the minimum threshold necessary for the quality of life you require. Efficient cost control keeps this number low in a Fight Club-esque “the stuff you own ends up owning you” mentality. The cost control side is low-tech and really just a psychological downshift. On the income side he recommends learning a trade (i.e. plumber, electrician) or STEM career or to hold off on careerism until you’re 35 and just treat employment as a source of cash and no more.

Downshifting frees up your time and this is the major win of enjoying the decline. You no longer covet the McMansion, the new lease car, the caribbean family holiday. You no longer feel compelled to marry and have kids. From this expansion in your freedom comes a great peace with the world as all the stress of modern life evaporates. A single man needs very little to get by.

More chapters follow on psychological adaptation (mostly about accepting your mortality and therefore commiting to live your life now instead of constantly deferring your pleasure), the importance of high quality people in your life, and to avoid the temptation to build up a pot of gold that a future wife / socialist government can steal from you. This is all good advice. Strangely he doesn’t mention Game despite his blog showing a clear awareness of it and Roosh’s book being mentioned at the end. Perhaps he doesn’t feel qualified to advise, or perhaps its to avoid tailoring the book to just single men – though it is this category who stands to win most from Going Galt because they are the host upon whom everyone else is a parasite.

Most of the book is accepted knowledge within the manosphere. I’ve written myself on the psychological declaration we must make when unplugging. I’ve written about the importance of building a group of high value friends. I write about building the international lifestyle and turning yourself into the Most Interesting Man In The World. There’s nothing new in Aaron’s book. Nonetheless I still read it cover-to-cover in one sitting because it gives you two things that amply justify the cover price:

Another voice of a man who has been-there-done-it reassuring you that this is a great path to go down with rich rewards for your quality of life. We all get 4am moments, those dark nights of the soul, when we wonder Cypher-like “wouldn’t it be better to plug back in”. This book helps banish them for those of you still wavering. Aaron is one of the older guys who isn’t bitter from divorce, isn’t an ex-pat loser, and isn’t a wannabe-baller. Just a regular guy who made smart choices and can pass on the thought process.
It’s a concise single volume with relatively mild tone that can be passed on to a young lad you think ready for unplugging.

Reflections on daygame

May 1, 2013
krauserpua

….After a year has passed since his wife’s death, the King takes a new wife, who is beautiful but also unutterably wicked and vain. The new Queen possesses a Magic Mirror which she asks every morning: “Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?”. The mirror always replies: “My Queen, you are the fairest in the land.” The Queen is always pleased with that, because the magic mirror never lies. But, when Snow White reaches the age of seven, she becomes as beautiful as the day and even more beautiful than the Queen and when the Queen asks her mirror, it responds: “My Queen, you are the fairest here so true. But Snow White is a thousand times more beautiful than you.”

This gives the queen a great shock, and she becomes yellow and green with envy, and from that hour her heart turns against Snow White, and with every following day she hates Snow White more and more. Envy and pride, like ill weeds, grow in her heart taller every day, until she has no peace day or night. The Queen orders a huntsman to take Snow White into the deepest woods to be killed *…

I used to be quite into Brazilian Ju Jitsu. Our local club had an horrific churn rate as new guys would come in to class and not come back. It was easy to know who would stick around – the unassuming guys who had come to learn. It was equally easy to predict the first day dropouts. They’d be wearing some tough guy clothes, perhaps insisting on wearing a coloured belt they’d picked up in a sports centre grading mill. They’d certainly have a stiff pride about them. Then one of our scrawny blue belts would wipe the mat with them. The ego death was simply too much to take. Their buffer had been overrun and their self-image could not take the real-world evidence that they simply weren’t as tough as they thought they were. So it is with Game.

Newbies are often told that the girl isn’t rejecting you, she’s rejecting your approach. This is only half-true. When you street stop a girl she is holding a mirror up to you. Only it’s not your flattering magic mirror telling you you’re the coolest in the land. She’s doesn’t care for your buffers or your pretty lies. She feels an instinctive emotional reaction to what you present to her and she makes the flirt/escape decision in a heartbeat. The mirror speaks the truth.

It takes only one session of daygame, one run of five consecutive blowouts to realise you ain’t all that. You are not as high value as you led yourself to believe. The weak among you (most men) will scurry back behing the buffers. The stupid will plod on without processing the evidence becoming increasingly angry approach machines. Only the smart and dedicated will process the feedback honestly and realise “I have a lot of work to do on my value.”

When a girl rejects you she is giving an assessment on your entire sexual market value.

Now there are fine gradations of this and while its not necessarily true on any single set it is true in aggregate over the session. Even if she has a boyfriend you’ll see flickers of attraction if she fancies you. Even if she’s in a mad hurry you’ll see her light up a little. It’s only when your SMV is way below hers will she eye-roll, sigh and give you the “how dare you hit on me” response. If that happens, sure get angry that she’s a rude bitch if you want, but process the feedback of why it happened. You ain’t all that.

When a high value woman refuses to have sex with a low value PUA, that is the sexual market functioning correctly.

So granted that you are getting blown out alot and an uncomfortable rate of bad responses, what are you to do? Step one is accept the reality. If you’ve been hit by a bus its not bravery to throw yourself back in front of the next one. Self-diagnose your approach to see what was off about it. Was it shaky vocal delivery? weak eye contact? lack of intent? angry vibe? A good daygame approach requires hundreds of microbehaviours to align into a single well-delivered whole and that’s not easy at all.

If your technique was acceptable its time to look deeper. Did you fail to correctly calibrate to the context such as by opening her as she’s coming away from a cash machine, or chatting animatedly on a phone? Did you adopt a try-hard alpha posture as a buffer to rejection that is transparent to everyone but yourself? Get someone better than you to offer straight feedback.

The problem might be deeper still.You may be hitting on girls above your league. Oh sure, that’s PUA heresy that its not all in your head. Its manosphere heresy that a woman might be too good for you. But if you’re a runtish chode hitting on 19 year old models you should be expecting nothing but harsh blowouts. You’ve got nothing to offer her. Perhaps the answer is to stop approaching hotties and do some serious work on your value. Get to the gym, get a make-over, travel, educate yourself. Make yourself the kind of man a hot young girl would expect to be having sex with. I’m thirty-eight years old and usually hit on girls around their early twenties. This is a huge ask and I have to be bang on my vibe to pull it off.

All men build buffers around themselves to flatter their self esteem and avoid rejection. Every single one of us, myself included. Root them out. Figure out how you are fooling yourself. The easiest single step is to go out into the street and open ten girls. Welcome the responses they are giving you. The harsh blowouts and the flat zero-attraction chats are offering you far more constructive feedback than any online forum can. Compile a wealth of this information, figure out where you stand, and then make a promise to yourself that from this ground zero you will build yourself up.

Accept the reflection that stares back at you.

* Sending for the woodsman = getting angry at the players who are outperforming you. “But I’ve been doing game just as long as you, I’ve done just as many sets as you… why aren’t I banging hot girls…. waaaaahhhhhhh”. I’ll bet those other players process reality far better than you do.

I bang my first 29 year old Lithuanian office girl

April 29, 2013
krauserpua

I’ve been corralled onto a short FSU tour by the indefatigable Tom Torero. We’d been chatting over beer in London around the time of our Long Game podcast and I’d lamented how my usual gang have all been indisposed with full-time jobs that inhibit their travel. Well, seems the Welshman was planning his own trip and thus I came on board.

The street stop, actual

My first stop is Vilnius where I catch up with a couple of girls I’ve been seeing on and off for over a year. The streets are reasonably busy and my street stops hit quite well. Outside McDonalds I spot a greyhound and dive in. She hooks strong, giggling and giving me the “just thrilled to be here” giddy look. As I’m taking the number Tom is observing and later tells me she had a dreamy expression like her Prince Charming had arrived. Text game is easy as I play chode game:

Me: Hi. It was a pleasure to meet you 🙂 Are you always so friendly to strangers?

Her: It is a national trait 🙂

Me: I’ve been exploring. Parks and wide public squares. Very Russian!

Me: Good morning 🙂 It’s another great day! How are you?

Her: Morning! I’m fine. I’m going to build exhibition. Have a good day 🙂

Me: Thanks

Me: I walked so much my head is sunburned, like a tomato

Her: I also walked a lot today. But my head looks good 🙂

Me: I like this city. It’s very calm and clean. I’ve already found some good bars

Her: Yes, it’s calm. Your phone will go home with you 🙂 [a callback reference to when I told her I was robbed in Brazil] Which bars do you like?

Me: There’s a secret bar I want to show you. It has a James Bond theme

Her: I am happy to meet with Mr Bond 🙂 Maybe this evening?

Me: Hmmm… Will you dress like a Bond girl?

Her: You mean, evening dress, long hair and sexy lingerie? I have only the third 🙂

Me: Put some clothes over your lingerie, it’s a nice place! 🙂 6pm, outside the town hall

Her: Ok. I’ll be there.

With the benefit of hindsight this set was more on than I realised. That reference to lingerie was her sexualising and her volunteering meeting soon shows keeness. But I knew I had a couple of days left before the next stop so I didn’t push it as hard as I could’ve. Watch for these little tells in a girls texts or conversation, little slips that let you know she’s up for it without much more preamble. Game can be boiled down to one long compliance test where the beginning is “hello” and the end is sex. Game is only required when she’s not complying. For as long as she’s letting you lead her towards the bedroom you needn’t put on your PUA wizard hat and overgame the set.

Tip: Late 20s / early 30s FSU women are the best prospects for fast holiday lays. Being FSU they are still slim, pretty and well-dressed but they are also more sexually open, more decisive, and more accepting that they can’t boyfriend you by holding out. They can already feel themselves losing the competition against their younger rivals so they’ll latch onto your value much much quicker.

She turns up to the date in a union jack t-shirt that can barely contain her breasts. We sit across a table then I run the Date Model. Everything hits. She’s cooperating to move it along fast so that within twenty minutes I just lean across the table and kiss her. Then I tell her to come around my side of the booth and we make out. It’s on. I could’ve pulled the trigger here but didn’t. After an hour mixing the usual rapport and spikes I let her go. We agree to meet the next night at 6pm

Age it to 29

At 6:05 she texts “five minutes!” At 6:15 I leave and go to a nearby bar. At 6:30 she calls asking where I am. I tell her. I’m pissed off. It’s not an act. I really don’t want to fuck her now. She senses this on arrival and for ten minutes I’m frosty and she’s pawing at me desperately, sensing she might not get her lay. Finally I tell her its ok and lets just get a bottle of wine. She agrees.

So we get some wine, walk the five minutes to my apartment. I give her the decency of pouring the wine and putting on some music before I make my move. She’s so hot for it that she’s grabbing at my belt within a minute. No LMR to deal with. I just carry her to the bedroom and have my wicked way. A very easy lay. In her 21yr old prime this girl would’ve turned heads on the street, a low nine. The intervening years dropped a point and robbed her skin of the springy quality that turns men into slavvering animals. But a good lay.

Learning points

Try to read a girl’s “go” signals. If she’s thrilled on the stop, cooperates strongly on setting up a date, and then rolls out the red carpet on the date then yes, she wants to fuck soon.
Read the girl’s clothes on the date. Has she obviously taken alot of care in getting ready? Is she showing cleavage and leg? Is she wear an easy-lifted skirt? Does she mention nice underwear?
Don’t overcomplicate an easy set.

An interview with Daygame.com

April 3, 2013
krauserpua

I tend not to do any talks or interviews anymore but after putting a few beers down my neck, Tom Torero persuaded me to chip in on the latest of Daygame.com’s weekly-ish podcasts. We spent about an hour discussing the topic of Long Game and in particular the lifestyle of travelling internationally to clack girls. Listen to it here

I bang my first 22 year old Filipino-Canadian nurse

April 1, 2013
krauserpua

First off I must tip my hat to Bhodi for serving this girl up to me. It took tight game to get this girl into bed (in under three hours from meeting) but this is a story best viewed as the power of simple wing work.

It all begins on Saturday afternoon in central London as we are hitting some daygame. My first set is excellent, a solid number from a beautiful young Bulgarian, but it tumbles downhill afterwards as a combination of cold miserable weather and huge gaps between finding targets all conspires to kill my state. Two hours in we are at Trafalgar Square when my finely-attuned radar spots a pretty Asian wandering alone. A close look suggests she’s American-Asian (I strongly dislike them) so, seeing as my state is shit anyway, I point her out to Bhodi.

Surprisingly she hooks well for him and is very friendly. I see an idate in the offing and shuffle off. Sure enough he texts me as such. They chat a couple of hours and he escalates her pretty well with dirty talk and kissing then she has to head off to meet friends – its a tour group from the US, headed to Paris the next day. By that time I’m up at Daygame.com HQ doing a podcast with Tom and John.

As we finish around 10pm I see Bhodi has been blowing up my phone with missed calls. Turns out this girl (hereafter Girl A) is drunk in her hotel bar with a crowd of chodes and American girls and bailing on meeting him alone, instead doing the “come join us” bullshit. Treacherous ground. We conspire the best move and I advise thus:

Plan A – Get her to meet in the nearest pub to her hotel, alone.
Plan B – Go into the bar, shrug off the crowd and pull her out to a nearby pub

Neither plan works. Instead he calls for our address, informing us he might be bringing a few drunk girls. Tom and John agree to run interference if extra bodies are needed. I get the following texts…. its all going pear-shaped but is certainly salvageable.

Him: en route eta 5-10 min one hot young asian high 8 plus my target

Me: cool

Him: mine is the tall one. the other one is an attention whore

Me: 2 girls or 3?

Him: 2

Meeting them downstairs I’m pleased at how the obstacle looks – a short asian hamster with nice curves and glowing skin. It turns out she’s refused to let Girl A leave the hotel alone, seeing her as the lifeline to escape the chodes and have some fun. Then in the taxi over here she had made herself the centre of attention and cockblocked. Typical American-Asian then….

Very very close to this

I decide I must crush her frame.

Right from the off I’m push-pulling, at times dismissive of her witterings yet genial and showing social interest in her. We sit around a table at a nearby English pub. It’s pretty easy to lead the chat and drop intellectual mastery on her – she appears to know nothing that Europeans would call “history” or “geography”. While I’m reeling off an elaborate Yugoslavia DHV story it becomes obvious she doesn’t know where Bosnia is, that Sarajevo was beseiged, that Tito was dictator, that Franz Ferdinand wasn’t just a band and was shot in Sarajevo. Its so easy to get her dangling on the end of my line, reeling her in. She briefly touches my arm as we talk. I know she fancies me.

Nonetheless nothing about this set was simple. The girls only met each other an hour earlier as the tour group aligned on racial grounds and the asians drifted together. Minor hiccups in the vibe and seating stall our momentum and things go stale. Suddenly we seem to be reaching in, leaning too much into them (figuratively). Something needs to change. This girl is a first-class attention whore. While my initial blitz had caught her off-balance and pushed her into submissiveness, the slight relenting of pressure gives her space to begin recovering her sense of self-importance. I know we are losing the set. No way will she let her new friend have sex unless she is happy herself. Bhodi had already kiss-closed Girl A on the idate but now she’s maintaining a cold distance and won’t kiss again. This is getting awkward. The following texts get pinged between us under the table as the next ten minutes tick away:

Me: Ok. Mine likes me. Potential. You lead for a bit

Me: Work for isolation

Me: Energy sucks. Bad seating. I suggest a bounce to nearby pub to refresh vibe

Him: agree but dont know any places

Me: My read is they don’t know each other but don’t want to appear slutty for rest of holiday. Need to separate them, even if only within same bar.

Me: We walked past one. If we walk to Marble Arch will find one. Tons of pubs in the area and they are bewildered on location.

We bounce. It’s almost midnight so its no surprise the first bar is shutting up. Second place is open. Upon buying my drink I shuttle my girl to a booth where she’ll be next to me and Girl A next to Bhodi. Its fairly easy to have pair of separate conversations. I have to start escalating.

I brush her hair out of her face, call her a chipmunk, play with her bracelet, ask her if her handbag is full of nuts for winter, touch her thigh….. normal push-pull as I escalate kino. She’s accepting it all. I make a joke about looking down her shirt. Finally I’m confident I have my moment. I inquire whether Bhodi has ice in his vodka – “ice” being code word for him to move his girl into isolation. He takes her to the bar.

This is now the moment of truth. If my girl won’t kiss, she’ll cockblock and its game over for us both. I ask her what she thinks of English men, whether we are gentlemen. Then tell her I’m not one, that I’m a bad man – “Like this, for example” and lift her chin up for a kiss. She meets me enthusiastically. Great. I do The Stone and she comments my dick is a perfect size. Ok, in for a penny in for a pound. I pull the trigger:

Me: I should tell you… I’m having rude thoughts right now.

Her: Tell me about them.

Me: Well, mostly they involve my dick *puts her hand on my dick* inside your pussy *put my hand on her pussy*

Her: *laughs* I can’t believe you said that.

Me: I suppose I could poeticise it. Make it romantic. But essentially it all comes down to my dick, deep and hard inside your pussy.

That’s 80% of my wingwork done. I’m confident I can hold her long enough for Bhodi to extract. Almost telepathically he returns with his girl. Clearly she’s relented on the kissing, her face is quite flushed. “Excuse me, young lady” he address Girl B. “Would you mind terribly if I whisk your friend away for a nightcap before returning her to you in an hour or so?”

Zero cockblocking ensues. Bhodi gets his extraction.

Definitely nice having her underneath me

Just as I think I’m on for mine she pipes up with “I need to get back to my hotel now.” I’ll hear this line at least ten more times in the next half-hour. I suggest a nightcap. An important part of the extraction is to find out what time she needs to be back home then promise you’ll have her there then. More kissing and she agrees to the nightcap. Into a taxi we go. The whole way back she’s piping up with the “I need to go back to my hotel now” to which I agree, kiss her, verbally bamboozle, pull her close and then she’ll pipe up again. Rinse, repeat. We half the taxi fare and she comes into my house without a fuss.

It’s still on the knife-edge. She’s one miscalibration away from just leaving. She knows she can. She’s accepting my lead but she’s not at all cowed. I walk her up to my room and leave her alone a few minutes. Then shoes off, music on. She accepts some rum. Everything now is soft and comfortable:

When handing her rum I say “don’t worry if you can’t finish it”
When she protests its too strong neat, I water it down for her. I’m not trying to get her drunker, the rum is just for her own self-rationalisation
She sits on the edge of the bed so I lie down at the other end, giving her lots of space.
As she gradually edges towards me over the course of five minutes conversation I stay still, lying back non-threateningly.
When she tells me she isn’t staying long, I offer to call her a cab “soon”
When she’s comfortable enough to kiss, I pull her onto me so she’s in the more dominant position.

Its time for the final push, inching forward step-by-step. I flip her over so I’m on top, then I’m running my hands all over her body, then feeling her tits, then undoing the bra…. its methodical work and I’m hearing the “I can’t have sex with you” line alot. At the point I’m trying to pull her strides down she comes close to a real “no”. A bit of fingering, her hand on my dick, and then just generally putting my dick near her mouth…. she starts sucking me off, I frig her close to orgasm (careful not to put her over the edge and make her too satisfied) and then its done. Strides off, cock in, notch gained.

It’s an awesome fuck. I brutalise her. She’s screaming, gasping, begging to be fucked harder. Loving it. I give her the memory of a lifetime. My phone buzzes.

Him: Status?

Me: +1. In my room

Him: ha ha u owe me one. Just fucked mine in the hotel toilets! HOLY SHIT! [It’s his first SDL]

Me: Great work. Putting mine in a cab now.

Him: Wait up with a celebratory whiskey.

This set was always one misstep from disaster. I thoroughly neutralised the cockblock and even got my end away from it, but it took some sterling work. There were long periods when it never seemed likely to happen for either of us.

The taste of victory

Learning points

Girls will spitefully cockblock out of reflex and yet, if handled correctly, will be sweet and up for it.
You need communication and teamwork with your wing. With me having been through these situations more than Bhodi I could correctly call the key shots.
Some extractions and closes are more on-edge than others. Be careful.

I bang my first 30 year old Romanian princess

March 29, 2013
krauserpua

That’s a figurative use of princess, by the way.

Imagine a leggy former model who has recently ended her relationship with a super-rich bachelor. Over the past five or so years she’s only ever travelled by limousine or private jet. She can’t remember the last time she looked at a price tag or paid cash, prefering to just sign for her luxuries in the high fashion boutiques. On her wrist is a diamond-encrusted Swiss timepiece costing more than many sports cars. More diamonds around her neck. Her dress costs more than the median average salary of her countrymen. But she walked away from it all, feeling trapped (but keeping the wardrobe, of course). Always on the boyfriend’s schedule, her life planned six months in advance. Always careful not to let slip private information about their lives lest a nosey maid or maitre d’ sell it to a scammer. Always a paparazzi trying to get some photos. She tired of the unreality of it all. She’s changed her number to stop her lovesick boyfriend pestering her.

Add five years to the brunette

Her holiday in London is almost over. It’s a breath of fresh air to walk around free and anonymous. She’s had a Starbucks and eavesdropped on the proles lamenting their mundane concerns. Now she’s eating a sandwich in the basement cafe in Top Shop. She checks her watch and decides to browse more high street fashion. As she begins to walk further into the shop, displaying a sultry long-legged strut, a man taps her arm.

“Hi. I have to tell you something. You have a lovely walk. Like an angry cat.”

She blushes, eyes wide open. “Um…. thank you.”

“You look Serbian” he guesses. “It’s the black hair, long legs, and crazy eyes.”

She giggles. “No. I’m Romanian”

He seems crestfallen. “Oh no. My mum warned me about Romanian girls. She said three things. They are all sexy”. He checks her out from head to toe. “Good at cooking. And sex maniacs.”

Yes chaps, it really was that romantic.

Her eyes spazz out immediately, the crackle of DNA-matching fizzing across the air. I know this girl really fancies me. After finding out her crappy logistics I take a number and suggest meeting later the same evening. Surprisingly she tells me the hotel she’s staying at (five star, Kensington) and suggest I call her in a few hours. I do. Perhaps over-emboldened from my recent run of SDLs I think its on for another but….. no. We have a few drinks in her hotel lobby and just kiss. The emotional connection is good. I have no trouble showing the right mix of confidence and vulnerability. Bhodi has his little theory about these types of girls – greyhounds, I think the term is. Girls who have:

Beautiful proportions mixing long legs, good height but also real curves
Intelligence and a well-rounded education
Social and physical grace
Always an 8 or better

Many vampire jokes were told

He opines that such high quality girls are extremely difficult for the average player to catch but counter-intuitively easier for men like me. As Sherlock Holmes said “Mediocrity cannot recognise anything higher than itself. Talent recognises genius.” These girls just smell the quality on me and want it. My Euro-harem is stocked with them and they all look from the same mould. It goes well and I think I might get the lay but she controls herself and eventually runs off to her room. Bugger. As I take the night bus home alone we fall into a text exchange:

Me: You had difficulty controlling yourself there 😛

Her: Yes. I succeeds 😉

Me: Does that make you a lucky or unlucky girl? Anyway, it was a lovely evening. Sweet dreams.

Her: I’ve never slept with a stranger. I don’t know how I would feel next day. You were very disappointed I think.

Me: You didn’t disappoint me. It’s just bad luck we don’t have time

Her: Yes. But you can visit Romania perhaps

Me: That’s too much too soon, girl. I know some good English pubs.

Her: Nice 🙂 We can talk tomorrow

Me: Between now and then, get some sleep. I expect interesting conversation.

Her: Between now and then I shall masturbate 🙂

Me: Send me a text when you’re done

Her: (half an hour later) I’m done!

Me: I approve. Good girl 🙂

Next evening she comes around to my part of town on a promise of coffee and Italian food. She texts to ask if its a high class place that requires heels. I say wear heels because you’re a feminine woman who likes to look nice. As soon as she shows up in the pub all the heads are turning. She has that imperious air of a woman used to commanding attention and being waited on. One hell of a strut. As she sits down she tells me to order her a glass of wine. “The bar is over there” I reply, not moving. After a pout she orders, fending off two different chodes who can’t help but open her.

I walk her to Pizza Express. Classy. We split the bill. She tells me that’s never happened before. I drink her wine too.

Back at my house we are soon in bed but I’m on the receiving end of hardcore LMR. It turns out she’s on the rag too so I settle for a blowjob in the morning before packing her off in a taxi and a few hours later she’s jetting back to Transylvania. I’m mildly put out that I didn’t close her. She’s a tough nut, having had only two partners in the past ten years, but I did have her in bed overnight so…. meh! Chalk it to the game.

We Skype for a couple of days. It’s snowing outside my window and the weather forecast is for zero degrees the coming week. Spain and Greece at +20C…. my mind turns. I fancy some hot weather and duty-free whiskey. A bit more on Skype and we agree to meet for a couple of nights in the Med. I book a double room. There’s a different wrinkle added to game when you actually travel to close a girl… the frame is very different. There’s alot riding on it. Different pitfalls to avoid.

Her hometown, yesterday

Down in the Med we check in and then explore the town. Some local cuisine and I hit the beer a bit harder than planned. She’s keeping a slow pace. I hit a rich vein of form and I swear this girl has never been gamed before. Every spike hits. Every joke. Every push-pull. She’s eating out of my hand. There’s a multi-millionaire a short private jet ride away pining for her, a guy who showered her with the best life can buy – Ferraris, Canne’s Film Festival VIP rooms, holiday homes in the tropics… and here she is drinking cheap lager in a dive bar with me, cooing and laughing when I call her a gypsy giraffe. Personal charismatic value > Money.

Game works. Never forget that.

Back at the hotel I fuck her senseless. What a cracking figure! Gazelle-like in the smooth long limbs and an expertly installed set of falsies. There’s literally not a single thing I’d change on her body. The sex is rough. I have her telling me she’s my bitch. After, I read her a Little Miss book (you can probably guess which one) which hits beautifully, making her jump me again. While I’m slamming her over the writing desk she gasps “You are hurting my ovaries!”

Lying stretched out in bed with her, both of us glistening with post-fuck sweat:

Me: Put one hand on my cock, and the other on my balls.

Her: Why? Does that turn you on?

Me: No. You’re Romanian and I don’t want to get up to lock my wallet in the safe.

Heh!

Just stop for a moment to think…. how thoroughly I broke her frame. She’s a chaste girl, a monogamist who spent her twenties with only two men. People defer to her constantly. And I douchebag-gamed her into putting out on the third date. Big time. Inevitably there’s blow back.

It begins as I’m trying to sleep. She sobs, tells me it was never in her plan to have sex. She can’t sleep all night. In the morning she gives me shit all the way to lunch. She’s angry, she tells me. I remain unapologetic and unreactive, letting the hamster run itself into exhaustion. It’s a major shit test, trying to reassert her princess frame that I should dance to her tune. I flat out tell her she’s only angry because I fucked her on my timetable not hers. Gradually she softens. Then its business as usual.

The strongest reality always wins.