Once overheard in a daygame set….

April 25, 2016
krauserpua

I’m walking past the theatre on Sunday evening in Prague, just around the corner from Palladium mall. A solo vulnerable-looking girl walks past so I open, hook and run my usual banter. Just another set in a holiday full of them. One thing that stands out in my memory is this conversation. It’s not verbatim, but as close as I can remember it.

Me: What do you do in life? What’s your thing?
Her: I work for an NGO. We help transitional countries become more democratic.
Me: I have no idea what a transitional country is.
Her: It means countries outside the First World which are maybe moving from a dictatorship. Places like Georgia, Albania. We are a European Commission NGO and we advise and coordinate with other locally-based NGOs to help them become more democratic.

I almost threw up into my mouth. An insiduous make-work programe for women to interfere in other countries on the tax-payer’s dime at the behest of the ((globalist elite)). I temporarily forgot I was trying to fuck her.

Me: Hang on a minute. Let me get this straight in my head. I’m no expert on NGOs but am I right that you’re telling me…. The European Commission, that is the European Union – the most anti-democratic and tyrannical organisation in all of Europe – has the audacity to tell other countries how to do democracy. The same EU that conducted coup d’etats in Italy and Ukraine? That’s sounds a bit rich.
Her: Umm…. well….

At this point I thought the conversational might get more confrontational than is conducive to seduction, so I changed tack.

Me: Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a democrat. I much prefer dictatorship, so long as I’m the dictator. In fact, I think I’d really enjoy being a dictator. Once I’m King of the World do you know the first edict I’ll issue?
Her: Umm…. what?
Me: I’ll make it illegal to wear silly pink hats [tug at her silly pink hat]. That will carry a sentence of twenty years’ hard labour. Yes, that’s right. The secret police will come for you and march you off. To the gulag with you!
Her: *giggles etc*
Me: Second thing I’ll do is have statues of myself in every town square, like Saddam Hussein. I’ll fill my garage with Italian sports cars and have a swimming pool of champagne. Everything in my palace will be gold. I’d be a good dictator. The best.

How I see myself

How I see myself

Unfortunately she lived with her boyfriend. Still, it’s always fun to spin out fantastical stories on the fly.

Belgrade Diaries – April 2016

April 24, 2016
krauserpua

Long-time readers will be painfully aware of my love-hate relationship to the capital city of Serbia. On the one hand I find the girls to be the hottest in the world (for my taste) – a non-stop parade of leggy greyhounds – and I’ve also had more success there then anywhere else. But on the other hand I fall into Groundhog Day and quickly tire of the same routine. It’s also a tough place to get laid. There’s not much of the fast adventure sex to be had. I allowed a couple of wings to twist my arm and showed up for nine days in early April.

Coming directly from Prague I was still nursing a come-down from my fuck-a-thon with one of Italy’s dirtiest porn stars. Waking up early for the Belgrade flight, I felt the last gusts of wind against my sails and then I was becalmed. Walking down to my apartment from the airport bus drop-off point at Slavia Square I was immediately reminded how different Prague and Belgrade are. Whereas Prague is a London-esque cornucopia of nationalities, sub-cultures and tourism the Serbian capital is a mono-culture where everyone dresses the same and nobody has any money. It felt like a 50% GDP-per-capita drop. I pressed on.

Some of the world's hottest women live in these shitholes

Some of the world’s hottest women live in these shitholes

I spent the whole of Day One with my head planted into a Boutique cafe table, barely able to keep my eyes open. An illness was coming on. I organised a late-night coffee date with a long game lead and it was fun. With the benefit of hindsight we shouldn’t have walked down to the river and sat on a bench for two hours at midnight. That was the final straw in breaking my health.

Sure enough I woke up the next day sneezing, itchy eyes, and strange dandruff-like flakes of skin falling from my cheeks. Unwilling to surrender the day, I tried a couple of approaches on Day Two but I could barely even string a sentence together. Day Three was worse and now my eyelids had puffed up like a boxer entering the twelfth round of a losing title bid. I sent a selfie to a few friends who freaked out at how odd my face looked (as opposed to usual). Day Four was rain which – as all keen Belgrade street gamers know – meant there wasn’t a soul on the streets. So you can imagine that by Sunday (Day Five) I was immensely frustrated – barely any approaches and my one solid number had been leaving to Slovenia. I’d been jinxed. I might as well have stayed in Newcastle playing Dark Souls.

Given that I’d fucked a porn star on Monday in Prague I also wondered if perhaps I’d caught HIV or some STD of the eyes. Another unsatisfying Belgrade experience was upon me. The illness seemed to fade a little on Sunday and I got a few sets done, plucking numbers from four sensationally beautiful women – the sort where fucking even one of them would be a lifetime accomplishment for all but the world’s highest SMV men.

“You are soooo confident! It’s great” said Petra.
“English people are just my cup of tea” cooed Andrea.
“Yes, we can have coffee” said Sevina
“Your accent is cute” said Milena.

Number close a flaky model

Number close a flaky model

Unfortunately all four dropped off in the subsequent texting and I was reminded of the painful attrition that comes with red-lining it at the hottest women you can find. On the plus side my long game girl came out on Sunday evening after her exams. Including 2015, it would be our fourth date. She was nicely dolled up which bode well and as we sat on a sofa together in the basement of Zmaj cafe she had an odd vibe. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I sensed nervousness. Perhaps she’s decided this is the sex date, so long as I don’t fuck up? I tried to show her some YouTube videos on my phone, knowing full well that the free wifi was too slow and my mobile signal blocked. After several thwarted attempts to show her, I finally expressed my exasperation.

“Let’s just use my own wifi. I want to show you dogs doing backflips”

She wobbled a bit at my apartment door then came in. The final bedroom escalation took about an hour and wasn’t ever really in doubt. She just wanted to be coy and let herself be persuaded. As soon as I looked down her shirt and saw a brand new Victoria Secret’s type bra I knew she’d come to fuck.

“I have had a bad experience with sex” she told me beforehand, to explain her tenseness as my dick was whipped out. “I only slept with one guy and it was weird. I couldn’t really feel it.”

So I slotted another hot twenty year old. It was fairly good. She lay there sweating and panting on my bed, cheeks flushed.

“I think you felt that” I said.

Drop half a point

Drop half a point

The remaining few days were also shit. I started to do good street work but just couldn’t get anything to stick. A few sets were absolutely awesome but just petered away to nothing in the texting. If I’d been living there a month I think a couple would’ve come through. That’s the problem with my one-week-one-city pattern: It inspires me to some fantastic tactical genius during that week, but it is strategic suicide. I hope the tactical improvements will pay off should I ever move my strategy towards one-month+ in a single town.

The final day was completely rained off so I just fucked the young greyhound again. That afternoon I was sitting under a cafe awning with her and two different regulars walked past and saw us. One laughed and the other turned her nose up.

Five days lost to illness and rain, four days of so-so street work. One lay with a YHT greyhound but it just didn’t feel like an achievement against the background of frustration.

Daygame Dominator – The greatest game of all

April 16, 2016
krauserpua

I know what you’re thinking.

“Fuck all this Dark Souls and Vanquish bullshit Nick keeps talking about” you mutter with disappointment as you check my blog and realise I don’t have any funny lay reports anymore. “If he must talk about video games, why doesn’t he have a daygame one?”

What’s that you say – a daygame game?

“Yes” you enthusiastically agree. “Preferably it would have a different level representing each familiar Euro Jaunt location. And instead of chasing girls it would be much better if the point of the game was to shoot all those pesky rival daygamers dead”.

Okay okay……. I’m bending to popular demand. Here it is…….. Daygame Dominator.

Womanizer’s Bible – The VIP room

April 7, 2016
krauserpua

Back in February 2015 I recorded the intermediate daygame seminar that would become my Black Book product. I had a bunch of fairly new daygame students in the room and took them through the key technical elements of creating attraction on the street and escalating on dates. While I was in London that weekend and in a seminar frame of mind, I decided to pull the trigger on another project that had been on my mind for over a year – a deep dive into the sociology of Game, red pill and advanced daygame. I wanted to weave together the disparate strands of “underground” knowledge that I’d collected over the years, and create a grand unified theory of Game.

That was rather ambitious. I felt like I could leverage some of my stronger points, what Scott Adams of Dilbert fame would call my “talent stack”:

  • High-level post-graduate education
  • Ten years working in international finance
  • Thousands of daygame sets
  • Six years of game theory obsession

How could I get all the benefits of mental masturbation / high theory without falling into the trap most such guys have – namely that they got it all from books and never proved themselves through actually banging younger-hotter-tighter? I got ten keen daygame enthusiasts into a room on a Sunday afternoon and ran a seminar called Womanizer’s Bible with the video camera rolling. Six hours later I emerged, completely depleted. It was fun. The guys enjoyed it.

A PUA forum, yesterday

A PUA forum, yesterday

Rather than release the seminar video, I kept it locked up on my hard drive and instead moved my focus onto a free podcast series bearing the same name. The podcast has been well received. It picks a narrow topic each time and dives deep. Something regular listeners have probably noticed is that it’s episodic in nature – there’s no clear progression between podcasts. I guess it’s like the fable of the blind men and the elephant. Each podcast I show you a different part of the elephant without ever giving a full view of the whole thing. Well, my original Womanizer’s Bible seminar is that full view of the elephant.

So, as I beavered away on my Sigma Wolf projects over winter I put a lot of time into preparing the seminar for release. I decided it would fit nicely as a “VIP upgrade” to the free podcasts. If that kind of thing floats your boat, check it out here for the grand old price of $49

Click on photo to visit sales page

Click on photo to visit sales page

More Prague Diaries

April 6, 2016
krauserpua

I’m still beavering away on my soon-to-be-released new memoir. That means much of my creative energy for the “player’s life” writing is channeled into the book rather than the blog. Nonetheless I’ve had a pretty good five-day trip in Prague that just ended early this morning. Let’s recap how that went down.

Friday
I shuffle bleary-eyed out of Vaclav Havel airport and onto the 119 bus, a light drizzle greeting me. My usual landlady is waiting at her apartment building by Palladium mall in central Prague and she checks me in to a new place. It’s nice. Perfect location, nice lounge, good solid bed and most important of all…. a hot shower. I venture out for coffee and soon meet up with one of Prague’s resident daygamers. It’s still a bit nippy so I’m wearing my thermal under the t-shirt and a cardigan and leather jacket over it. We hit the streets. Mentally I’m fine but just lacking enthusiasm. The first few sets are quick blowouts.

It’s getting on the 6pm and my eighth set when I finally get a solid hook point from a girl who doesn’t have a boyfriend. Tall, blonde, twenty-year old Russian student. Spider sense is triggering so I take her to the patio cafe on the nearby Theatre. She settles in well and joins me for a beer at Chateau Rouge. Halfway through the drink it seems really on – she’s eye sparkling, gazing at my lips, allowing the kino. With smooth self-confidence I draw her in for a kiss.

“Come here” I beckon. She moves her face closer to mine.

“Closer” I command, and she comes closer still. I go for the kiss.

She suddenly short-circuits and pulls away. Denied. I try to salvage it with more comfort and a walk around the Old Town but she’s decided I’m not good for her. She wanders off without leaving her number. I wouldn’t call it four hours wasted – not with such a delightful girl – but it was most definitely frustrating.

Saturday
The sun has got it’s hat on and I’m coming out to play. A couple of Danish guys are in town doing daygame and a couple of travellers recognise me too and introduce themselves. All told, five different people stop me on the narrow strip from Palladium to New Yorker. I press on with my daygame and it’s going okay. Unfortunately I’m having bad luck – there’s always a boyfriend or husband or immediate flight home. I run diagnostics on the quality of my street game and I know it’s fine. Just need to keep plodding on. I’m very much focused on picking sets carefully, avoiding any blind opens. So all in I probably only do ten sets for the day. Mostly I’m enjoying the walk and watching with satisfaction as my pedometer app clicks off the kilometres.

Night cuts in around 8pm and I stop a cute Russian blonde on her way to a party. She’s visiting from Moscow to compete in an event and is now joining her team for an afterparty. They leave early the next morning. I try to get her to fuck off the party but no joy. So I street kiss close her. Haven’t done that in a while *

She takes her leave and I walk off with a smile. Less than fifteen metres and one minute later I stop a hot Russian student with flowing blonde hair. She’s keen and joins me for an idate. Unfortunately the clock is ticking because I’m meeting a Long Game virgin at 10pm. So I escalate the Russian a little in the bar and take her number. Then I rush to New Yorker to meet my evening date. The virgin stays over and wants to fuck. Unfortunately I just can’t get my dick in. It’s rather frustrating. I fall asleep.

Sunday
We try to fuck again in the morning but it’s just not possible – she’s too tight and sensitive. She goes off to study and I sleep in until 2pm. I wake up disorientated, knowing I have a first date at 3pm with a girl commuting in from her tiny Czech village. She was a number from my previous trip here. Village girl is on time and looking nice – a twenty year old. We have coffee at the same terrace cafe and a beer at the same Chateau Rouge. She’s only got two hours until her train home so I rush a bit trying to get her into my apartment. She refuses. So I walk her to a church and kiss close in the grounds then send her home.

Next is a date with the catwalk model I fucked on my previous trip. She’s been rather difficult to deal with over WhatsApp while I was back in Newcastle. My read is that she fancies me a lot but thinks I’m bad for her. She’s probably right. We go for a beer at a nice beatnik bar. She spends the first hour being difficult, breaking rapport, and acting like she’s friendzoning me. She spends the next hour with her tongue down my throat before rushing off to a house party.

I’m a little perturbed. That’s three hot twenty year olds I kissed today and no sex. I do a rage-open, my only set of the day, on a brunette standing outside McDonalds. Strangely she’s also twenty. She comes on an idate to Battalion bar where she tells me she used to do webcam masturbation for money. It’s going well until I ask:

“What do you like about me?”

“Nothing at all. You’re not my type” she says.

All of the sexual tension disappears and I realise she was just a time waster. I let her leave then I buy a Burger King milkshake and go home. It feels like Prague doesn’t want me to get laid.

Monday
I’m out solo for a while, deciding I should up my game a little. I still can’t find the right vibe or the right girls. One set goes great with a hot young blonde but then her brother comes over to cock-block. About seven sets in I’m thinking it’s just one of those bad days. Then I catch an IOI of a brunette and do a set that absolutely crackles with sexual tension. She’s looking at my lips constantly and I’m certain I could’ve kissed her there and then. But that would be dumb, so I take the number. I considered the idate but she said she’s going to meet friends.

For the first time all day my vibe is good and as I’m explaining something to my wing, I clap my hands in emphasis. A sultry brunette walking alongside me starts at the clap and glances my way. That’s my opener. After five minutes she says: “Are you going somewhere? We could walk a bit?”

We end up in Battalion bar again having a late-afternoon beer. Again the clock is ticking because I have a dinner date lined up with a regular for 8pm. So I have an hour to work and it’s going good. I figure the questions game is a quick way to move things along.

“Tell me a secret about you” I ask.

“I am a porn star” she says.

Oh.

As we finish our drinks she pipes up, “would you like to snort something with me tonight?”

We agree to meet at 11pm and I rush off to eat pasta at my regular’s house. I fuck her, shower, then rush back into central Prague to meet the porno girl. She’s on time and I walk her straight home. It’s a bit weird at first, she says “I’m only buying one bottle of beer, because I’m leaving in thirty minutes” but as soon as the coke is opened the mood seems to improve. I’m not telling you all the details. It’s enough to know I didn’t sleep a wink all night and I had an awful lot of sex with her. Including while watching her videos on the internet. That memory is likely to remain seared into my brain for years.

Tuesday
I’m an empty shell of a man all day. I stumble around, can’t eat, and just struggle with one hell of a comedown. I’m getting all philosophical, telling myself that I’m pretty sure that notches no longer motivate me, maybe I’ve fucked enough women, and video games look awfully appealing right now. Finally I go home and watch YouTube videos of 1980s pop songs all night. I need to be up early for my flight.

Lest you think this is my usual pattern, I’ll tell you now this was a rather volatile jaunt. Usually I get more steady results at each stage of the game, rather than this kind of feast-or-famine. Nonetheless, I’m pleased. Average age of girls I’ve notched this year is 20.5 which is exactly half my age. I doubt I’ll keep the average that low as the year progresses.

* Because it’s stupid flash game

Insha’Allah

April 2, 2016
krauserpua

German sociologist Max Weber made a case in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism that pecularities in that religion – specifically it’s lack of fatalism, and it’s aescetism – were instrumental in capitalism developing in the West before elsewhere. Capitalism sees the pursuit of profit as an end goal in and of itself, and that it is virtuous. One branch of Protestantism – Calvinists – believe in predestination. They believe God has already determined who is saved and damned, which leads to a natural question any Calvinist will ask himself:

Am I one of the saved?

Naval-gazing aside, the natural place to look for evidence of having been chosen is in the world. Perhaps success in worldly activity is evidence that you have been saved. Calvinists came to value profit and material success as signs of God’s favor. Sprinkle in a few psychological quirks (e.g. confirmation bias) and this is a powerful engine for the Calvinists of the 19th Century to work hard, accumulate capital, and propel Europe into a new age.

For some reason I hear the word “chosen” and think: modern daygamers consider receiving IOIs as signs of God’s favour that they shall be sexually saved. Commiting oneself to the daygame grind is an aescetic Calvinist treadmill of sexual-capital accumulation to convince oneself he is still sexually relevant. The problem is that most of your success is outside your control. Lets talk about that.

A statistic that I just pulled out of my arse is that 80% of your success with women is completely outside of your control.

  • Does she like you?
  • Is she available?
  • Is she amendable to seduction?
  • Does she need to board a flight in the next three hours, or is she wandering around with nothing to do?

Perhaps 20% of the seduction dance is within your sphere of potential control. The problem for the average chode is he doesn’t have any control over that 20% either. So you can give him some advice: stand straighter, lose weight, dress better. He’ll expand his sphere of influence from 1% up to 5% and his results will likely quintuple. “Oooooh, I like this” he thinks, revelling in the joy of having some control over life’s vaguaries. So he hits the gym harder and selects his fashion carefully.

Well done. I fully approve.

Now you teach him some game: Start cold approaching, use this opener, qualify her. That 5% has gone up to 10% and he’s getting laid pretty well. That Calvinist work ethic is giving him the spirit of daygame. Maybe he buys Daygame Overkill and adds another 5%. Maybe he reads Daygame Mastery cover-to-cover many times and writes a positive review on someone else’s website. His success jumps up again*

Eventually his head bangs against the ceiling. He now controls all 20% that is possible to control. He’s optimized his look, chosen the right locations, straightened his inner game, and learned the Krauser London Daygame Model. He’s 3,000 sets in and keenly calibrated. He couldn’t fuck up a set if he tried.

And now the fatalism sets in. There’s nothing left to do. He no longer feels in control of his sex life because there’s nowhere left to go. Now the variation in his results is entirely dependent on that 80% outside of his control.

All he can do is hit the streets, get his vibe right, and then open. After that, it’s out of his hands. It’s just a given that he’ll do everything about right. Like a football player whacking a penalty into the top corner, the difference between lifting the World Cup and going home disappointed is all about which way the goalkeeper dives.

Christians will say “God willing” when planning a future endeavour, whereas Muslims would more often say “insha’Allah”. The Christian version is less fatalisitic because it assumes both God and man play their part, because there are two sides to the bargain. The Christian must do the spade work and then hope God grants him favour.

If you squint really hard that looks a bit like daygame. Control the 20% and then, God willing, the other 80% falls into line this set. God smiles and you get laid. But sometimes the Muslim version is better for your inner game.

There will be Prophethood for as long as Allah wills it to be, then He will remove it when He wills, then there will be Khilafah on the Prophetic method and it will be for as long as Allah wills, then He will remove it when He wills, then there will be biting Kingship for as long as Allah Wills, then He will remove it when He wills, then there will be oppressive kingship for as long as Allah wills, then he will remove it when He wills, and then there will be Khilafah upon the Prophetic method and then he remained silent. (Ahmed)

Inshallah has a different nuance from “God willing”. The latter means we have done our best, and trust God to do what is best. Inshallah means that Allah may do his worst, and we must accept it. Sometimes you just hit the streets, put yourself in the mix, and let the world wash over you.

Last night I had a four-hour idate with a very hot Russian girl who looked like a peak Bridget Fonda. Lovely girl. Smart, savvy, young, hot, tight. My wing bumped into us twice during the idate and commented later “she looked completely into you. I thought you’d be banging her all night.”

So did I.

Almost SDL'd this my first day in town

Almost SDL’d this my first day in town

However she excused herself at the end – prior to the bounceback – and actually refused to give her number. The conversation went like this:

“I don’t want to give you my number”
“Why not. I like you. You obviously like me”
“I really like you, you have beautiful eyes” (as she strokes my beard and her eyes sparkle with desire)
“So give me your number”
“No. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

And then she walked off, her hips swaying, no doubt boiling in her own love juice. A girl who’s hindbrain desperately wanted to fuck but her forebrain overruled it as a bad decision. I’ll never see her again. As she walked off and I turned tail to go home alone, one thought came to mind:

insha’Allah.

* Not a cheap solicitation for sales and good reviews at all, so don’t say so.

Outlaw Daygame – The Legend Continues

March 28, 2016
krauserpua

The smartest, cleverest, most r-selectioniest daygamers have already subscribed to my YouTube channel here in order to get first dibs on the instructional goodness that flows through its narrow portal. The dummies don’t know about it at all and instead watch fake shit like Simple Pickup. Somewhere in the middle are my stubborn blog-readers who will not subscribe.

Pfffffff! *

* It would appear it’s not always clear when I’m being humorous.