Let me explain to you the three main types of daygame I see people doing [1] and what fuels them. All three will look nominally similar on the street were you to watch an infield but once you’re sharp enough to see nuance, you’ll easily categorise guys into one of the three types.

Dentist Chair Daygame
This is almost every beginner and many of the less experienced coaches [2]. These men are carrying the “invisible rucksack” around. They are motivated by the desire to get laid but their hindbrain isn’t on board so they experience significant cognitive dissonance. They don’t enjoy daygame and don’t want to be on the street, but they do desperately want to improve their dating life. Thus they “embrace the grind” and mentally prepare themselves to endure the pain in order to get the reward.

It’s like heading to the dentist to get your tooth out. You are wracked with nerves, feel the pressure, but steel yourself for the moment the needle is injected into your gums because you know you need that tooth fixed.

First one is the worst one

Such daygame relies upon forebrain willpower overruling hindbrain resistance. In order to do so, the daygamer must repeat his favourite mantras, wrangle his forebrain, forestall the weasels and push himself into set. It’s hard. It’s unsustainable. It’s very easy to be knocked off course because the slightest adverse wind can blow down the house of cards.

Watching these guys infield you’ll see stiff body language, pained facial expressions, repetitive formulaic sets, almost always crappy Yad Stops, and forced smiles.

The invisible rucksack is the weight of expectation you carry on your back while daygaming. It tires you out. This is why men can hit the streets for three hours, do only a couple of sets, and yet they are exhausted like they’ve run a marathon [3]. Unfortunately this type of daygame is a necessary period for almost every would-be daygamer. It takes a long time to prepare your hindbrain to start enjoying daygaming.

Crack Pipe Daygame
Once you’re good at the model and have stacked up plenty of positive reference experiences you can begin to enjoy what I called the Joy Of Daygame. It becomes a hobby you look forward to because the very act of being on the street chasing girls is fun in and of itself. The Dentist Chair daygamers may enjoy certain individual sets or even a short run of “peak vibe” but for the most part it’s a miserable chore. Crack Pipe daygamers enjoy almost the full session including the blowouts, and all the walking between sets.

You look… like… really… um… what? where? Hang on..

This style is based on momentum. The daygamer gets himself into a happy vibe and then keeps taking hits on the crack pipe (each set) to maintain his high. Watching these sets you’ll notice high energy, very real fun being had, and usually the techniques are free-form and follow the model in principle more than in specific actions. It’s often belligerent, fizzy, and gets strong positive reactions from girls [4]

I like crack pipe daygame and did it especially a lot in 2015-16. I still do it when the weather is nice, lots of girls are out, and I’m in a good mood. I thoroughly recommend it. It does have a downside though.

It’s extremely tiring. It’s like firing the afterburners non-stop. It’s not just negative reactions that tire you (like Dentist Chair daygame). The positive reactions also rapidly drain your brain chemistry and you’ll soon sink into a zombie like state of muttering short sentences and failing to hear your friends talking. That’s the time to end the session and refuel for the next time.

It’s also such an exuberant form of daygame that it’s highly tempting to over-escalate. That said, most crack pipe daygamers are savvy enough to know what’s up and how to rein it in.

Fat Buddha Daygame
This is the type I prefer now mostly because it has the minimum energy spend and is thus the most sustainable. This type of daygamer has spent so long on the streets and has so thoroughly absorbed the skill-set into his muscle memory that daygame feels as natural as walking. Although aware of the model he doesn’t ever think about it. He’s walking around the street like a car in idling, the engine turning but barely revved up and almost no petrol cost. Usually he’s talking about something completely unrelated to game with his wing.

He’s standing in the Daygame River, enjoying the sunshine.

Not so badass

Then his pre-approach skills identify high-probability targets as they drift past. He opens, and if the immediately reaction is okay he fires up the afterburners for as long as the set lasts. Then he’s right back to idling the motor for as long as it takes until the next set. While in set, it looks a lot like Crack Pipe daygame but not as fizzy. It’s more controlled, less extravagant in the use of energy.

There’s a downside to this type too, which is lower overall activity. You’ll only do a 1/10th of the work as Crack Pipe daygaming [5] which is good, but you’ll only fuck half as many women. This is why men who still have high motivation to turn over the notch counter prefer the crack pipe, whereas men satisfied to pick off just a handful of girls prefer the ease of the zen route.

So, that’s three types I’ve noticed. Dentist Chair daygame is clearly the worst of the lot and you should only do it while you have to, and bin it when conditions are favourable. I’d say Crack Pipe and Fat Buddha game are equally good but very clearly appropriate for different moods and circumstances.

If you enjoyed this post you’ll love Daygame Mastery, the bible of daygame

[1] Of those daygamers who actually have a decent chance of getting laid. There’s probably a fourth type of Buffoon Daygame for the likes of Deepak, Justin Wayne, Sol, Berba, Jacob Prince etc
[2] By which I mean guys who’ve been daygaming long enough to want to try their hand at coaching, but haven’t been coaching for long
[3] Or watched a Deepak infield right the way through
[4] Richard from Street Attraction is a good example of crack pipe daygame, as he usually plays that angle when the camera is turned on.
[5] The joy of the crack pipe encourages you to seek out marginal sets, chasing the hit. It’s not unusual to do twenty or more sets in a crack session. In contrast, fat Buddhas may do less than five.

I looked out the window as the plane began it’s descent. Below me, the city sprawled for miles, clinging to a winding river as it snaked to the sea. There’d be many girls in that city. Many hot girls.

Oh yes, I wanted my share, and would fight to have it, but there was more than the girls… there was the getting of the girls; there was the smooth glide of the air-plane as it approached the landing strip and then the bump and rattle as the landing gear hit tarmac; there was the lap of river water against the waterfront lined with bars, restaurants and a pedestrian promenade… there were bird sounds, the water sounds… the distant hubbub of a group of students laughing and drinking… these things that no man can buy; these things that get in the blood; these things that build the memories of tomorrow; the hours to look back upon.

Volume 5 of the memoir

I wanted these more than notches. There is a time for adventure when the body is young and the mind alert and all the world seems there for one’s hands to use, to hold, to take. And this was my New World, this world of the Former Soviet Union, these lands where long ago the Tartars, and Cossacks, and Bolsheviks came, and which now were teeming with hot young women. Where waterfront bars buzz with accordions and song, where hard-working men throw shots of raikya down their necks and tell tales of war.

What is any man but the total of what he has seen? The sum of what he has done? The strange foods, the women whose bodies have merged with his, the smells, the tastes, the longings, the dreams, the haunted nights? The dive bars of Kiev, the plazas of Moscow, the clubs of Minsk… the worst of it, and the best… the grand arches and monuments built by lost, dead hands, the nights on an isolated hill staring at stars, the splendour of a storm, the tumultuous power of winds whipping through streets. These are a man.. and the solid thrill of a punch landed, the faint smell of whiskey, spice, a girls perfume…. the taste of blood from a split lip.

“Excuse me! You look French. I said… YOU LOOK FRENCH!!!”

Oh yes, I had come for things other than women but that evening, for the first time, I was sleepless. Tomorrow there would be, with luck, a throng of beautiful women… and with four of my friends, many ways to tackle them. Many things to be done and memories to be formed.

Life can be carved into two halves: the anticipation, and the memory. And if we remember richly, we must have lived richly.

This fragment was inspired by Louis L’Amour and an adventure story of his I read today, Off The Mangrove Coast.

I’m sure the entire daygame world is on tenterhooks waiting to see what’s inside Daygame Infinite [1]. I’ve been playing it fairly close to my chest for a few reasons, my extreme arrogance paranoia notwithstanding. Regular readers know I like to under-promise and over-deliver on my products [2] and I also like to take my time meticulously polishing them until ready.

I was recently watching one of Vox Day’s periscopes and he broke it all down nicely, explaining how different people conceive of “success” in different ways. I’m too lazy to go back to his podcast, but he listed potential motivations for why people write and thus what would constitute success for them. For example:

• To get on the New York Times bestseller list
• To make a big pot of money
• To get invited on speaking tours and lecture circuit as an expert
• To get reviewed in certain high-brow magazines
• To settle scores with rivals
• To achieve something of quality that stands the test of time.

There are many motivations. I realised my main motivation is posterity. I want to leave my mark on my little corner of the world, producing the very best material there is while I still have the motivation to put in the work necessary to do so [3]. Obviously I’m not much motivated by money or else I’d be rushing out shit to sell to fools, and I’d put way more effort into my marketing efforts [4]. Perhaps next year I’ll become a PUA whore selling nonsense e-books to no-hoper idiots, but at least until the end of this year I’m more interested in writing for the knowledgeable crowd.

So, long pre-amble over, how is Daygame Infinite coming on, you ask?
Well, I’m glad you asked sonny-Jim. Let’s see, shall we…….

The book is done. Like, properly done. I just sent a list of typos / layout imperfections to my graphic designer to process and after that I could release it as is. But I won’t. Why? Well, two things:

• I’m having technical issues with the publisher’s software accepting my PDF upload. We’ve been on to technical support for a couple of weeks now and they’ve essentially given up in frustration. They layout is so complex it’s giving the conversion software a meltdown, even though tech support say it’s a compliant file. So, while trying to get Lulu to take the file, I’m also trialling alternate publishers. I’m optimistic, but this book won’t be released until I’ve had a paper copy in my hands that I’m satisfied with.
• Given the delay in publication, I’ve decided to add some extra commentary to the WhatsApp chats used in the book. to squeeze in a bit more content. This is a pretty quick job to fit them in, probably less than a week, so can run concurrently with the efforts to fix the printing issue.

But yeah, the book is done. I’m travelling all through November so the earliest it’ll be released is end of November because that’s the earliest I can possibly get my hands on a paper copy test print. I’m not deliberately delaying the release. If that test print is good, I’ll release it to the public within hours of checking it [5]

Most chats have commentary but some, like this, don’t yet

[1] Or at least the coaches wondering what material they’ll be rehashing for the next few years
[2] Literally the opposite of most PUA blowhards
[3] Believe me, I’m rapidly losing interest. If Daygame Infinite wasn’t written in 2017 it would never be written at all
[4] Money tip: spend 90% of your time producing polished marketing and 10% rushing out substandard products. You’ll make way more money than doing it the other way around, like I do.
[5] But if the test print has bad errors, it’s another week or two to fix them and get a new test print.

In other news, I’ve returned to working on volume three of the memoir. It’s current sitting at 79k words, of which I’ve rewritten the first 20k recently. My plan is to chip away at the rewrite until all 79k words of the first draft have been replaced with a (far superior) second draft. Then I’ll reflect on where it’s at, and how long it is, before doing another pass to add in new stories and additional themes. I’d like it to finish up between 120-160k words so that it matches up with the other three volumes. Don’t expect to hear much before 2018 unless I get a sudden rush of enthusiasm to write. I’m enjoying it but there’s no money in the memoir so I’m writing only when I feel like it.

Jared slowly shuffles forwards through the undergrowth on his elbows and knees, his hunting rifle cradled in his arms. Brush scratches at his face and the midday African sun beats down hard. He’s grateful for the shade offered by his wide-brimmed hat and the sweet succour of his water flask.

Water supplies are running low, as are the other provisions in his small backpack. He’s been in the bush for over a week now, tracking the king lion. He picked up the lion’s trail on the second day, tracked him for hours, then lost it again. There were several days of nothing, just casting around searching for spoor and carefully observing the behaviour of other African wildlife for any hints of his quarry’s movements.

Jared was tired. Sleepy. Beaten down. But he was still focused on the prize.

There’s a noise from a large copse of trees a few hundred yards away. A few birds are startled into the air then wheel away to fly over the horizon. Jared investigates. He reaches the copse and his heart races – he’s found tell-tale spoor of a lion. He follows the trail.

Hours pass. He once thinks he catches sight of the beast through dense trees. It was just a flash of colour and movement. He’s not even sure he saw it. Nerves taut, his eyes seeing everything, he follows the tracks to the best of his ability. And ability honed over years.

When it happens, it happens fast.

Dead silence, eerie, and then suddenly the crack of tree branches snapping and a roaring fiend leaps from the gloom. Jared rolls, raises his rifle, and lets off a shot. The huge beige shape flies overhead, so close he can smell it’s perspiration, but so fast it’s a blur. He thinks he hears a yelp of pain as well as a flash of red blood.

As fast as it came, the beast has disappeared. Jared lies on his back, pushed up against a fallen log, his heart pounding and his knuckles white from gripping the rifle close to his chest. What just happened? Did he hit the lion? Why did it suddenly retreat?

For two more days he tracks the beast but his water runs low and he’s forced to trek back to base camp, empty-handed. He arrives as dusk has settled over the plains. Light peeks out from inside once of the tents and there are sounds of merry-making. He rests his rifle against a rock and ducks inside the tent, announcing his return.

There’s another hunter there, one he’s never met before. He must’ve stumbled across the camp while on an expedition of his own. A big husky man with impressive side whiskers and a ragged checked shirt. He introduces himself as Robert and pours Jared a draught of ale from his bottle.

Soon they are sharing hunt stories.

“I bagged four just last week” boasts Robert, grinning widely. “It was quite a haul. How about you?”
“Nothing” muttered Jared. It wasn’t uncommon to spend two weeks in the bush and never take down the big game. “Nothing in ten days.”
Robert poured him another drink and slapped him on the back in good humour. “Never mind. Come out with me on the next trip. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The next day the pair are riding horses through the plains. Jared looks around but they seem to be riding away from lion country. A few hours later they crest a hill and on the other side is an oasis. A herd of wildebeest are drinking at the water source. Robert slides off his horse and shoulders a high-powered rifle with scope.

“Watch this” he says and kneels down.

He sights onto a fat wildebeest sleeping in the shade of a tree, then lets off three shots. Two strike the ground but the third hits the sleeping animal in the head, killing it.

“Now wait” he says, and lights up a tobacco pipe. A few hours later the herd moves on and Robert walks down to the dead animal. “There’s number one. I’ve got a good feeling about this trip.”

Jared shakes his head. Technically, you could call this hunting, he thinks. Somehow it doesn’t feel like the same thing.

As will become clear from Daygame Infinite, calibration is key to advanced daygame. It’s the elusive skillset all wannabe players chase, the ability to know where a girl is at psychologically and therefore what you need to do next. Is she into me? Is she up for it? Is she telling the truth? [1]

“okay, so you average seven girls a month but you lost your phone with all the evidence on it….”

Good daygamers are body language experts [2] which is exactly what you’d expect considering key aspects of daygame are:

• an incredible amount of social contact with new people
• constant formulation and testing of behavioural hypotheses
• both you and the girl have skin in the game
• constant diagnostics and debriefing to promote continuous learning.

When you’ve spent two years and two thousands sets on the daygame beat you’ll have a finely attuned radar for reading a girl’s body language. You won’t know everything, and there will be large gaps in your knowledge [3], but you are far sharper than before you began. Additionally, if you’ve done sufficient inner game work to smooth out your own mental kinks then you’ll be better able to perceive the data clearly rather than have your ego get in the way [4]

Daygame Infinite goes into considerable detail on how to calibrate. I’ll say more at a later date [5] but for now I want to make a recommendation for all you would-be body language experts. I’ve found a fantastic YouTube channel that uploads dozens of interviews and speeches from the news and then analyses the speaker for tells of honesty and deception. I’ve watched little else these past few evenings and I’d like to pass on the tip.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAniRWSd5Qc

The channel proprietor is clearly a Trump supporter so some of you [6] may take umbrage at that but it’s pretty easy to filter that stuff out. She also has videos which are completely non-political such as serial killers, crisis actors, and abuse survivors. You can quite easily pass on the Hillary and Podesta videos and still have lots of non-triggering material to learn from her.

So, what is there to learn? I’d say Bombard’s Body Language channel is especially good for the following:

• Focus on the tiniest of signals above the large amounts of worthless noise. Body language reading requires you to appreciate just how small the key signals can be, and how you need to be expecting them to see them. Daygame is just like that, such as the flash of attraction that may pass through a girls eyes, letting you conclude “she fancies me”
• The importance of tuning out from the content of the speaking to instead see what the body is telling you.
• The ways of spotting “portrayal”, her word for when a speaker is seeking to fake particular emotions. One such clue is real emotions have many tells appearing together (e.g. a smile is both mouth and eyes) whereas portrayal is usually only one isolated tell at a time.
• Understanding that sometimes you aren’t getting any relevant information about the topic you wish to address, because you haven’t sent out the appropriate probe. This is especially relevant to escalation: you can’t judge feedback signals if you never triggered the feedback by sending the probe

I’ve linked a few good videos in this post but I thoroughly recommend the channel. It’ll get lots of you verbal-obsessives closer to the real world of game: subcommunication.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2O7niupAGY

[1] If she’s female and moving her mouth, probably not
[2] Whereas high-volume spam approachers most definitely are not. They try to compensate for their lack of skill by brute-forcing it with volume until a Yes Girl takes them all the way to bed.
[3] Because we are scanning mostly for signs of interest and availability, rather than other signs such as truth-telling
[4] Many beginners mistake social hook point for sexual interest, for example, because they don’t want to face the fact they probably aren’t very attractive to women yet
[5] Or else all my points will be quickly uploaded into a free YouTube video without credit, as seems to happen suspiciously often
[6] The faggots, traitors and morons

If you are interested in calibration while picking up girls, you’re gonna fucking love Daygame Infinite. I’d best keep cracking on with getting it ready for publication, shouldn’t I?

Right then dickheads valued readers, here’s an update on my tortuously long daygame textbook project. Fuck me, if I’d realised writing an entire textbook full of new content was gonna be this hard I’d have just drunk my own piss or something instead.

Do you want to know a little about the book writing process within the esteemed halls of Sigma Wolf? You do, don’t you….. okay, you twisted my arm. I’ll tell you. But first, a screen grab of the draft Infinite layout.

If you’re wondering why I picked a page with relatively few ground-breaking ideas…. well…. I think you can guess. Anyhoo, the process.

First thing I did with Infinite is audio record a bunch of my dates with a dictaphone and get them transcribed. I read through the transcripts and let ideas percolate for how I could use them to tease out dating strategy in a book.

Second thing I started typing away with my ideas as and when they came into my mind, beginning the middle of 2016 until by the end of the year I had 25k words or so. At this point the book at no shape and I was still trying to figure out its direction. I showed these scribblings to a few friends.

By early 2017 I’d organised things into a structure and figured out… wait…. you don’t give a shit do you? You just want another screen grab to whet your appetite. Go on then…

So anyway… blah blah blah… who gives a fuck. The important fact is that today’s the day I finished my final edit of the last bit of text. I’ve now entered the most fun stage of book publishing which is bossing around my minions. I think it’ll take all month to get it done, and on the task list is the following:

• Draft layout of the full book, to the standard shown in these screen caps (current status: 3/4 done)
• Commission additional caricature art to replace the placeholder art shown in current layout (current status: 1/3 done)
• Prettify the draft layout so it looks more whizz-bang-woohoo such as adding photos and flowcharts (current status: 0/2 done)
• Finalise hardback cover design (current status: 3/4 done)
• Check for typos, errors, accidental private info (current status: zero)
• Write additional content to squeeze in if I have time on my hands and nothing better to do with it  (current status: zero)

So I stress again that these screen captures are not the final product but they ought to give you a good idea where things are headed. What’s that you say? One more screen grab? Okay…..

I sometimes forget where we are at in the progression of the London Daygame Model. Are we still at v2.0 or has it moved to v3.0? What I do know is where I am at in the progression of my brand new daygame textbook. So, let me update y’all.

I wrote Daygame Mastery in the latter half of 2013 and by the time it was polished and ready for release, it was February 2014. Regular readers [1] will be aware I’ve been daygaming the whole time. Four years have passed. Four years of experimentation, ruminating, and original thinking [2] have occurred. I’ve spent literally a year writing this new book.

So, how is it coming on?

TL:DR – It’s about a month from completion, but likely two months from release.

Two months from now, yesterday

I’ve written the entire manuscript and then done a beginning-to-end rewrite four times based on my own thoughts and on three experienced daygamers giving feedback on test reads. It’s currently with my professional editor for an additional edit.

I’m also making good progress on the cover design and layout, about 50% through that process. So far so good.

I won’t be rushing publication of this book because it’s likely my final word on daygame and I want it to exceed the quality of even something like Daygame Mastery. So I’m meticulously polishing it and trying my best to get everything just right. I’m confident that will become quickly apparent to everyone who gets their grubby mitts on it.

UPDATE 3rd Sept: I submitted the final edit of part 4-of-4 to my layout guy today. That means the book is fully within the “supervise art and layout” stage. Pretty much fine-tuning now. I expect a final proof-read PDF by the end of the month, hopefully sooner.

[1] If that’s possible given the irregularity of my posting
[2] As opposed to just ripping off Mastery, slapping a new name on it, and cashing in

Mid-way through last September’s trip to Moscow, I’m wandering through Red Square when I see a mixed-race girl with massive hooters, massive ass and…. probably…. a pretty face. But I didn’t really notice anything except the hooters and ass [1]. She exudes voluptuous fertility. I open. Something about her looking very rock’n’roll in her fashion.

It’s a normal number. Absolutely middle of the range, where she seems a bit into me and presumably available but it’s not tripping any SDL alarms nor am I wading knee-deep through pussy juice. I give her five minutes then go on my merry way. The subsequent texting goes nowhere, as you can see below.

Dripping wet

Almost a year passes then I’m back in Moscow. I’ve hit the mid-way point of that trip and am somewhat frustrated by the trouble in getting girls onto dates. I’d gotten one notch and had two long game girls give LMR in the bedroom and force me to bin them (got boyfriends). I felt these results hardly befitting my stature in the community. A couple other sets were going well but frustratingly sex didn’t seem on the immediate horizon. I decide to ping every lead from last year which had at least given me a few replies. This mixed-race girl, let’s call her Vera, replies pretty well.

What does it mean when a girl replies with a ton of smileys and a blatantly sexual photo inviting you to check out her ass?

I’ll tell you what it means: you invite her out as soon as you can. In my case, same day. She ended up not coming but we rescheduled for early the next evening. I haven’t bothered screen-capping those texts as they are pure logistics. As it happened, at this point I actually got my sets confused and thought Vera was a different girl. In the previous trip I’d opened another girl who’d looked a bit rock n roll and I’d thought it was her who I’d been messaging the whole time [2]

“I can’t remember what this girl looks like” I say to Roy and GG as we are standing outside The Four Seasons hotel at Red Square. “If a hot girl with a big ass walks past in the next ten minutes let me have a look at her before you open.”

Not many girls walk by but in the distance I see a silhouette that trips my RAS. A girl in a figure-hugging dress with her tits almost falling out of the low-cut neckline, gliding across the cobblestones with her hips shucking side to side. GG is about to race off to open but then I realise it’s Vera. I stress the clinginess of this dress. It was like it had been spray-painted on.

I was expecting a slim white girl and instead got a buxom half-black girl. Okay. She gives me a big smile and pushes her tits up into me as I greet her with a peck on the cheek. I’d rate her a high 6. She’s oozing sex appeal but just isn’t, on a fundamental level, especially pretty. Think of a curvy stripper gyrating in a seedy bar that you very much want to fuck even though you know she ain’t all that.

Imagine this, basically….. [3]

We walk up the bank towards Kamergirsky. Everyone is eyeballing her. The men are thinking “cor blimey, her tits and ass!” while the women are probably thinking “what a slut! but I wish I got that much attention” [4] It turns out her mother is from Burundi and her father Russian. She was born in Burundi before moving to Moscow as an infant, so technically the rare Burundi flag is at stake here [5]. I take her to Let’s Rock bar and we sit on stools at the corner of the bar.

Stools at the bar are excellent for rapid escalation. Way better than tables and chairs.

Throughout the first beer I can’t believe how easy it is. Before she’d arrived I was expecting some difficulty due to her apparent lack of interest the prior year. I thus conclude she’d always fancied me but her circumstances had changed in the interim. Most likely she had a boyfriend last September and was single now. That’s the most likely explanation for any girl doing a U-turn in interest and availability. Vera kept staring into my eyes, smiling insanely, and telling me everything I said was “cool”

I decide to move fast. It seemed the window of opportunity is open.

I prod her thighs, grab her arms to “check her gym progress”, play with her hair and all the usual stuff. She reciprocates. So then I start talking about sex, which she loves.

“I’m going to kiss you later” I say. “Not now”

She almost explodes at that, her whole body rattling around like a kettle on the boil. I walk her around the corner to the Tap & Barrel pub. She seems to keep bumping into me as we walk. I sit her down next to me in a booth and we get another beer. I tell her my DHV story about fucking a porno star in Prague last spring. She loves it.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a porno star” she says. “I wasn’t interested in the money or the fame. I just love the idea of having sex in front of people”

I tell her about my Argentinian ex-GF’s sexual fantasty of being tied with rope, hung from the ceiling, and then licked-out by a girl while a hundred men watch and masturbate.

“Oh, that sounds amazing” she coos.

I kiss-close her then and she’s pushing right into me, moaning. Out the corner of my eye I check our drinks, which are now half empty. Okay, should try to extract in ten minutes or so.

What do you think my next move was?

Go on, hazard a guess.

I pull over a menu as if to peruse it and then under that concealment I…… get my dick out. She stares wide-eyed. I put her hand on it and she brief wanks me off a bit but a minute later I put it away, just before the waitress comes over thinking I’m ready to order [6]

“Oh god, I’m so horny now” whimpers Vera. I can see her cheeks flush, her eyes sparkling, and her brain has clearly switched off. I down what’s left of both beers and leave cash on the table.

“Let’s go”

I walk her through the long winding corridor to the stairs up and out of the bar. Around the first corner I push her against the wall and kiss her. She’s literally weak at the knees, sagging. I put my hand down her shirt and mash her tits. She’s whimpering and moaning.

“No. Not today. I can’t!”

I put a hand on her throat to pin her to the wall, stare into her eyes, and rub her pussy with my free hand. Her eyes roll and she’d have sunk to the floor if I wasn’t pinning her. Then we walk out. I start walking her to my front door which is literally across the road but she won’t come.

“Not today”
“Next time I see you, I’m going to rip off your clothes, carry you to my room, throw you on the bed, and fuck you so hard you forget your name” I say.
“I want to suck your dick and swallow your cum” she says, then waves goodbye and trots off in a hurry. That’s the last I see of her and she doesn’t reply to my next three pings. Then I fly home.

If you like stories riddled with confusion, errors of judgement, squalor, big tits, and the getting out of the dick you may just enjoy my memoirs Balls Deep, Deplorable Cad, and Adventure Sex.

[1] Oh yeah, she had on a black leather biker jacket. I noticed that.
[2] She was white and less buxom, but Vera’s profile photo didn’t show her face and nor did the bikini shot. I assumed the darker skin was a sun tan and the big ass was just an artefact of the photo pose and angle. Silly me.

[3] But half black, obviously. And if you think “wow, Overkill is amazing” well yes it is and for only $199 you can buy it here.
[4] And likely many of them also thought “build the wall”
[5] The rare non-HIV Burundi flag, that is. I’m sure a trip to Africa would net me that flag (and several communicable diseases) in no time at all
[6] Hence why I chose a newspaper rather than menu next time I pulled this stunt. There’s a learning curve

It’s pretty rare for me to fuck up a set. Let me be precise over what I think constitutes “fucking up” rather than simply failing to bang a girl. The harsh fact of the Sexual Market Place is most girls are never going to bang you no matter what you do. It’s initially quite a sobering experience to realise just how many women find you completely unattractive. I dare say there are three billion females alive today who would never take seriously the thought of me banging them.

Three billion. That’s a lot of rejection.

We shall be talking about this kind of girl, in a high-7 form

I see Game like famous football analyst Alan Hansen see’s defending: it’s a percentages game. In every situation in which you find yourself, you have incomplete and imperfect information. With that information you must make a decision over what to do (e.g. pull the trigger now, or build more comfort). In these situations there is usually a smart percentage play, and also a high-risk-high-reward play [1]. So a smart player will usually do the smart percentage play but sometimes take risks if he’s able to absorb increasing chance of failure, needs a Hail Mary, or just doesn’t much give a fuck at that point in time [2].

Playing the smart move (or the calculated risk) and then failing to get laid is not fucking up. The dice roll sometimes goes against you, and we are dealing with a deck mostly stacked against us.

Fucking up is when you don’t even know the smart play, or even worse, you know it and do the dumb move anyway. This story is about the latter.

I’m walking down Kamergirsky late one evening with the Three Stooges. We head up the incline past Cuba Libre and I see three girls sitting on the benches outside Let’s Rock bar next door. The blonde one looks nice, a high seven. We walk past then I decide to give it a try so I walk back to them, holler, and get into a chat. She seems to like me. My friends wait at a discreet distance for the five or so minutes it takes me to get the number, telling her we are going off drinking.

Having spoken to her, I don’t like her much. She’s lived in California a year, acquired a slight valley girl accent, and seems extremely pushy. The kind of girl you’d turn your back on if she was a six. Nonetheless, I’m in this to get laid and it’s more slop for the sausage machine. Also, sometimes five minutes isn’t long enough to really figure someone out.

I ping her within minutes and she’s very enthusiastic, sending me long messages with short response times wanting to meet up immediately. However something still seems a little off. She seems a bit disconnected and is bringing friends. I can’t yet tell is she’s being social-not-sexual and thus a time-waster, or if she’s just a bit aspy, or if it’s the lots-of-friends party vibe. This is how I thought at the time. Reading back the messages later, I see that I miscalibrated.

Note all the times are really two hours later, because it was Moscow time

Miscalibration is the surest sign of an impending fuck-up.

She seems pretty keen, no? This is all good behaviour from a girl and no bullshit. However, I’d fixated on her breezy tone and her “yeah, let’s hang out” casualness to think she’s probably a time-waster friend-zone deal. It’s not how my lays usually begin. I’d failed to adequately appraise myself of her personality and her time in America (and desire to imitate US girl’s communication style), plus I was primed to filter excessively hard because I’d just had a girl waste my time on a go-nowhere date that same afternoon. Anyway, Blondie rolls up to Let’s Rock with two friends about an hour late and I briefly go outside to chat. They are carded and not allowed in.

At this stage I still think she’s uninvested. It feels more social than sexual, and she was an hour late. I keep drinking in Let’s Rock with the Three Stooges. I conclude she’s just looking for foreigners to drink with and thus deprioritise her. So, I’ve already set the foundations for a fuck up. I keep messaging and again, reading them back now I wonder where I got such silly ideas from. She’s playing it straight and yet I’ve convinced myself she’s dicking me around.

We arrange to meet in our favourite dive bar. Now there’s a curve-ball outside my control. Roy, GG, Mr Arr and myself are all sitting in the basement around a high round-topped table. There’s one other free table in the bar, another high round one right next to us on my side. The girls arrive at precisely the time Roy is outside having a cigarette. Not having seen Blondie up close, he doesn’t know it’s my set and he opens her. He’s pretty good at game and she seems to like him.

They now come downstairs and Blondie sits on the opposite side of the spare table from me (but side-by-side with my friends) and her brunette friend on the side next to me, almost side-by-side to me. This is good for eye contact with Blondie but too far for kino. The big problem though, is her friend is completely isolated on the corner. The only people she can speak to is Blondie or me. Anything else requires her talking across us. This will become significant in precipitating my next error.

I try to bring brunette into the conversation. She’s very talkative, interesting, and seems to fancy me. No-one else talks to her (they can’t without getting up and walking around to stand next to her) and when I talk to others she just sits there looking like a third wheel. My friends don’t try to hit on Blondie but she wants to talk, so she talks to them. I can feel the momentum dying. Roy plays it aloof because he doesn’t want to hit on Blondie but the very fact of doing that, in a conversational vacuum, makes her want to talk to him. He tries to escape a few times to smoke outside but….. she’s a smoker too so she follows him out on the cigarette breaks. The couple of times I do talk to Blondie she motor-mouths prattle. So, it’s shaping up badly….

1. Seat positions force me to be monopolised by Brunette, or look rude in de-facto excluding her.
2. Blondie can’t just listen. She has to talk, so she fills the vacuum by talking to Roy.
3. They end up sharing smoking breaks.
4. I can’t bear to hear the prattle Blondie is spilling. It strikes me as valley girl-esque narcissism.
5. And did I add that my friends somehow think Brunette is my target and I have to text them that Blondie is? Being daygamers, they don’t immediately see that “talk to the obstacle and create demand from the target” is standard Mystery Method bar game [3]

You can see where this is leading, no?

There were all sorts of solutions. I could’ve explained ahead of time or on the fly how I intended to play the set (including soft freeze-outs of Blondie). I could’ve found a pretext to change the seating arrangements. I could’ve put more energy into dominating the table so all eyes are on me. I could’ve asked my wings to go to another bar and leave me to it. There were any number of solutions but I instead chose to fuck it up. Oh, and I was a bit drunk by now too.

When Blondie came back in I struck up more conversation and then she gave me a big speech about how she’s an amazing social butterfly and she can get any man she wants. Rather than see that as fronting over low self-esteem and thus something to neg and then divert, I instead thought “fuck this pompous bitch, I’m gonna try fucking her friend”.

So I texted our WhatsApp group words to the effect of “I’m switching to the Brunette. Blondie is now fair game”. This was late on, so only Roy was really in a position to make a play. He put in a half-arsed effort and then as we all kicked out around 2am Brunette told me she was a virgin and gave me the brush off.

The girls lived near Roy so took that as a pretext to get a cab to his apartment in Arbat where he kissed both, then eventually threw them out for playing games. I went home and tried to figure out where I’d gone wrong, so having a 4am WhatsApp debrief with Roy to express our mutual frustration and bafflement [4]. If I was to put it all in simple terms I’d say the dynamic was this:

She liked both me and Roy. I got first dibs and made a mess of it until she ceased to like me. When the ball was turned over to Roy he did a better job and nearly got the lay.

If you like stories of me fucking up promising sets and then my wing nearly banging them, you’ll love Balls Deep because that happened plenty with Jimmy.

[1] Not unlike investing, stand-up comedy, fighting, or any other number of human endeavours that require compliance from the world to succeed.
[2] For example if a girl has middling interest in you, the smart play may fail to sufficiently raise her interest in you above the crucial threshold so suddenly the high-risk move is more attractive due to reduced opportunity cost of trying it.
[3] I stress my wings were not trying to steal my set. This was just a colossal fuck up of bad luck, bad communication, and poor judgement from myself. It was my job to run the set to my advantage and I failed to do so.

[4] Sharp readers will have observed from the screen caps I took today that she’s typing and I have unread messages. While screen-capping I decided to send a ping for first time since that Moscow weekend. She got right back to me. Interesting.

I’ve indicated many times that the Player’s Journey carries with it an undercurrent of nihilism and hedonism. We are engaged in a project which is nominally exactly what we as men are designed to do (impregnate lots of hot women, and thus by proxy seek novelty in sex) and yet it’s just not especially satisfying. I was lucky enough to spend a lot of my free time at university taking philosophy classes so I’m well aware of the Paradox Of Hedonism and the various great men’s ruminations on the nature of happiness. Of all the other Alt-Right / Game / Red Pill bloggers out there, I think Vox Day comes closest to my worldview.

He wrote a quick post on his reading of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations which is nonetheless packed with interesting statements. Let me pick out a few of them and give my thoughts as they apply to the Player’s Journey.

“A man must be able to look honestly inside before he can look accurately outside”

Way back in late 2010 I started doing Game therapy sessions with Skeletor. I’d spent enough time studying psychology and informal logic to be well aware of human cognitive bias, ego defences, and the general inability of people to see anything rationally when the ego stakes are high. Even simple things like surveying opinions is fraught with issues and sociologists have long grappled with the simple problem that people either do not know or will not say what they really think.

I figured that with Game and it’s attendant identity overhaul, the odds of me having massive blind spots were very high. Thus I sought out Skeletor as the best-qualified man I knew to do a deep dive and identify them, then posted commentary on my blog about the sessions. His meta-theory of Game is best expressed by Vox’s above quote [1] He liked to use the metaphor of the human eye. He said you are conveying your character to the girl like light flowing through the lens of the eye. A good lens is (i) the correct shape (ii) unblemished. His principle idea was:

Sorting out your inner game is like straightening out kinks in the lens, until it is the correct shape to reflect the light. Sorting out your outer game is like cleaning the lens until it is free of blemishes that muddy the image.

Another metaphor would be a cinema projector. To correctly project a movie onto a screen you must have a clean, well-formed lens. Otherwise you get the equivalent of a warped, out-of-focus image and all the dust and debris sticking to the lens is magnified onto the screen.

First screening of A Deplorable Cad movie, with Idris Elba as Krauser

Thus Vox’s quote above applies to the aspiring player as much as it does the military commander, the emperor, or the husband. If your lens is damaged, you can’t see clearly through it. Inner game cannot be neglected and anyone telling you to “just do what works” and focus on technique is a buffoon [2]

“Tell yourself the unvarnished truth, even if you cannot bring yourself to admit it to anyone else”

I wrote about compliance in Daygame. Most of us live our lives insulated from real-world feedback and thus nothing pops our bubble of delusion. Reading literature, watching TV, playing video games, going to the gym, eating right, doing a hobby….. these activities rarely generate unvarnished feedback to you about who you are and how good you are at doing stuff [3].

You’ll see this everywhere, even among people who should know better. A good example of this cognitive bias going wrong (to avoid real feedback in case it’s negative) writ large is the 2008 financial crisis and ongoing response to it. Federal Reserve printing, extend-and-pretend loans, SIV shell games, abandonment of mark-to-market accounting rules, SEC regulatory forbearance….. these are all complex evasions by the financial sector to avoid the realisation that their assets are shit and their banks are insolvent. It’s exactly the same psychology as the Game forum chode who won’t cold approach but wants to tell himself and others he’s good with women.

Telling yourself the truth doesn’t just make your decisions better, nor just quicker identify your straying from the path to success. It’s also central to avoiding the dreaded Gamma and narcissist mindsets. Both are wildly delusional and spin a web of lies to themselves and others to maintain a false idealised self. The truth pricks that bubble so making it a rule to tell yourself the truth is a necessary daily discipline [4]. This is a refreshing aspect to cold approach – few things discipline you like hitting on ten pretty women and receiving their feedback.

Now let’s get to the quote that most resonated with me because of where I find myself in life in 2017.

“No amount of pleasure will ever satisfy a man. No amount of comfort will ever satisfy a woman”

For this to be properly unpacked we must differentiate between pleasure, happiness, and satisfaction. My rough-and-ready definition is [5]

Pleasure: A state of temporary well-being in the body, enjoyed in the moment, based upon what is happening right now. Chatting to a flirty woman, having sex, being drunk, and being high are all pleasurable. It is primarily sensory. Sights, sounds, smells, touch etc are pleasurable to us. It does not require a feeling of accomplishment.

Happiness: A state of well-being in the mind, enjoyed before, during and after whatever caused the happiness. Being in a new city, surrounded by friends, chasing skirt can cause happiness and that feeling remains even when you’re sitting in your apartment in the evening doing nothing in particular. There is a residual effect to happiness that doesn’t disappear as quickly as pleasure does. It requires some feeling of accomplishment, of having gotten your ducks in a row.

Satisfaction: An ongoing state of well-being best characterised as a peace of mind that your life is headed in the right direction. This can co-exist with a momentary feeling of displeasure and a current lack of happiness. Examples include the pain and stress of gym training (displeasure) while being satisfied that you are working hard and your plan is moving forwards. I felt quite a lot of satisfaction during my first 1000 sets of hell even though they were often unpleasant and I was frequently unhappy.

The paradox of hedonism advises us that the self-conscious pursuit of pleasure will necessarily lead to unhappiness. I agree. In one of his Darkstream podcasts Vox commented that happiness is a symptom of doing other things. You can’t directly pursue happiness. Rather you must have a purpose in life, move towards that, and then happiness will usually result. This is why we Euro Jaunters recommend creating ongoing projects and doing stuff other than just chasing skirt, so as to avoid hollowing out.

High pleasure, medium happiness, low satisfaction. Yesterday

Anyone who has spent a long time chasing women will know how it relates to the Player’s Journey. Chasing skirt is chasing pleasure. The Player’s Journey is a structure that provides purpose to the process (“getting good with women”) and thus happiness. For significant periods of the past eight years I’ve had both pleasure and happiness. It’s been great. The problem comes:

1. Pleasure is subject to diminishing returns. You can only get your first SDL once. You can only bang your first eight once. After that it’s no longer the first and you cannot recover the high of novelty because it’s no longer novel. Accumulating notches becomes less and less pleasurable [6]. For a while the gradual reduction in cost as you get better offsets the gradual reduction in benefit, so the cost-benefit calculus remains strongly favourable. Eventually your improvement slows and you lose these “super-normal profits”. Your game becomes “normal profits”.
2. Happiness is fleeting. I believe happiness is a temporary reward that our DNA rewards our brain with for successfully advancing the DNA’s plan. The very structure of human biology means we cannot stay in a state of happiness. For happiness to motivate action in a Darwinian world, it must be periodically snatched away (by our DNA) then dangled in front of us again as a carrot. Additionally, once you’ve become “good with women” Game loses purpose. You’ve gone from swimming forwards to treading water. To be happy again you need to find a new purpose.

This is perhaps ironic. A player will gradually become unhappy as he becomes successful with Game. Personally speaking, probably the lowest ebb of my entire journey was the morning after I had four girls in my bed on the same day (and fucked three). I’d reached the highest peak I could realistically expect to reach and…… well….. now what?

Chasing skirt is like a hamster wheel. It just happens to be a very pleasurable hamster wheel, and thus a better bet than whatever wheel we were spinning pre-game (in my case, the career wheel). I haven’t yet figured out a way to structure my Game to maintain pleasure, happiness and satisfaction all together.

After eight years, this suggests to me that it simply isn’t possible. Game will give you pleasure and often make you happy, but it won’t ever satisfy you. The thing is, if you don’t go through the journey you’re likely even worse off [7]

If you liked this post you’ll probably not like my memoirs. They are all fun stories of chasing skirt and loving it.

[1] Smarter PUAs have long said that Game success is 90% inner game and 10% technique. I think this overstates the case but the general thrust is accurate.
[2] Or a knowing charlatan who has figured out that most money is to be made in the Purple Pill area where you give the customer some Red Pill tactics that seem edgy and underground, but never require him to abandon his Blue Pill pretty lies. It’s how Oprah and Tony Robbins got rich.
[3] Within reason. If you want to nit-pick there is an element of compliance. For example, you need a certain literacy, intelligence and patience to understand some books. Challenging games require competence to complete. If you have SMART gym goals then the discipline of the scales, tape and caliper present potential fail states. Competitive hobbies such as 5-a-Side football feedback on your fitness, skill, teamplay etc. Sitting watching Netflix, however, is zero compliance.
[4] I tried very hard from the beginning to share harsh truths about myself on this blog and even then, lots of delusion crept it. Imagine the delusion if I’d never even tried.
[5] Yes, I’m pulling these definitions out of my arse. They are intended to be effective only for the duration of this post.
[6] Though never actually bad. It ceases to feel like winning at life, but it is still lots of fun.
[7] At no point am I regretting my own path. I’ve had a great time and my life is far better now. The problem doesn’t appear to be my life choices but rather the intrinsic nature of the human to never maintain a state of happiness.