Half of the book’s chapters focus upon one particular girl per chapter, telling her story in full. These are organised according to the order in which I first had sex with them, regardless of when we first met. The additional non-sex chapters are slotted in approximate chronological order between those. However, every story overlaps and covers time periods of varying length. For example I met and laid Rakiya within two days over the New Year ringing in 2010 (and never saw her again) whereas the Dovile story covers two years from meeting in September 2010, to sex in January 2011 (determining her chapter’s placement), to finally ending the dating in mid-2013. That’s the best way I could impose a narrative structure upon a fundamentally messy reality. This volume begins in January 2009 and effectively ends in March 2011 when I finally laid Zaria, with some girl’s stories continuing on longer where necessary to close the loop.
It’s difficult to write a memoir about fucking a lot of women without coming across as an insufferable show-off. By definition, I’m a man who succeeded and chances are you’re holding this book because you want to know how I did it. Yes, in four years I had sex with one hundred new women. Most of them were hot and their average age was early twenties (I was thirty-four when I first got laid on this journey).
What I achieved was rare, but not special.
Each and every man carries within his DNA the burden of responsibility to pass it on to the next generation. Every single one of us is the current version of a DNA code honed through a million years evolution to be a winner.
Yes, that’s right. Every single man reading this book is the latest in a long line of winners.
Of course, so are each of the other 2.99 billion men on the planet, so let’s not think of ourselves as special snowflakes just yet! At each generation we are embroiled in a Darwinist fight for survival and replication and… it’s a dirty low-down fight. While Disney tries its best to put a clean romantic gloss onto the fight, the reality is often squalid, dishonest, and shocking. Just pick up a women’s gossip magazine and read the relationship pages.
Like most men, I preferred to believe the Disney version. While I was no hopeless romantic I truly believed in the white-picket-fence respectability of the suburban family. It’s how I grew up—my parents still married as I write these words, an older brother, a steady job. It was what was expected of me, and I was happy to fulfil the role. So I worked hard at school, even harder at work, and by age thirty-one I was happily married to a sweet Japanese girl one year younger than me.
That was how I planned to acquit myself of my DNA’s burden of responsibility. And then things went wrong. The marriage turned sour, my wife left me, and I lost all interest in my job. It was a bad time. Not just the shock and heartbreak but also the shame of it—I was the only person in the history of my family to have gotten divorced. It stung.
For three months I moped around. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and had no joy for life. At work I was like an imposter in my own body. Approaching my thirty-fourth birthday I was single and—worse yet— completely lost. I had no idea how to find a new girlfriend. The rest of my life stretched out ahead of me like a sexually-barren landscape.
On my birthday I decided to treat myself and fucked an escort. She was twenty-four years old, from Hungary, and pretty damn hot. I calculated how many times a month I could afford the £150 in-call cost of an escort and checked the websites to see if they were hot enough for me. I seriously budgeted it. It was the only way I knew to get sex with women I found sexually attractive.
Ugh! I shiver at the thought now.
It was at this low ebb that I heard about the Seduction Community, a world-wide group of men (connected through Internet forums) who claimed to have learned the secret code to picking up women and having sex with them. I believed their bullshit and gave it a go. Incredibly, it worked. Most men fail, but I actually succeeded.
I’d found a new path. By the end of it I’d learned far more about women and about myself than I ever dreamed possible. All of my preconceptions would be smashed and my entire world-view rebuilt from the ground up. As you sit reading these words it probably sounds far-fetched, so let me ease you into the journey. Right now almost everything you think you know is wrong. One reason I wrote this book is to show, through examples, how I stumbled upon my version of the truth.
This book is mostly about the women in my life. I find writing it that way takes the edge off my narcissism. As the story progresses you’ll see me develop from a sexless hopeless fool who couldn’t even get a kiss for six months into a man who was having sex with nineteen-yearold students in pub restrooms in the middle of the day an hour after meeting them. As I sit writing this introduction, just two hours ago, I “notched” (had sex for the first time with) a nineteen-year-old fashion model from Serbia on our second date.
And it was fucking awesome.
So, inevitably I’ll come across as an insufferable braggart. I apologise for that. There’s no other way to write about fucking a hundred hot young women. But I’ve also tried to share the darker sides of the story. This journey has been an emotional rollercoaster where I was probably unhappy far more than I was happy. I’ll relate to you the anxiety, selfdoubt, and sense of isolation I felt for months on end as I knuckled down and tried to get good at seducing women. I’ll write about my failures—there were a lot of them.
This is the first volume. It tells approximately twenty-five percent of my story. I’ll share my experience of beginning the most difficult journey of my life and by the end of this volume reaching a stage that most men have long since given up on. Many of my readers will be dipping their toes in these waters for the first time, wondering if they too could become a professional seducer. I’ll do my best to guide them through those tough early stages where most of the feedback is failure and the path is littered with landmines and wild goose chases.
And if people enjoy reading it I’ll write the next twenty-five percent. So I hope you enjoy reading my story. I certainly enjoyed living it.
Nick Krauser Belgrade, June 2014
Next installment (Chapter One part one) in three days