Field Reports | Krauser PUA

A Deplorable Cad

February 12, 2017
krauserpua

THE BACKDROP

Three years ago I embarked upon a wildly ambitious project. As an aspiring player I’d read Neil Strauss’s famous memoir The Game in which he describes his entry into the underground world of pick up artists. Reading those pages I felt like I was along for the ride, living the successes and failures with Neil. It’s a good book.

Unfortunately, it’s also a bit light. In order to squeeze everything into a single volume to sit on a bookstore shelf, Neil packed a long timescale into few pages. By necessity, he skips over so many things that I had wanted to read about in detail. It felt like eating a chocolate bar when my stomach rumbled for a three course meal. FRUSTRATING!

What I would have liked was more detail.

– How exactly did he meet these girls and how did the dates go?

– What was it like to deal with anxiety and self-doubt on a daily basis?

– How did he deal with women he actually succeeded with?

It’s one thing to simply tell a good story. I also wanted to learn. I looked around and tried many books but none were able to walk me through the Player’s Journey in real live detail, red in tooth and claw.

Fortunately for you scamps – Enter the Nick Krauser Memoirs!

THE BOOK

By mid-2014 I’d achieved all my goals in Game. I’d been hitting on girls for six years straight, learning, improving and ultimately writing best-in-class material on how to daygame. Now I wanted to tell my story. I didn’t want to perform a victory lap, telling everyone how awesome I am (though I’ll admit that’s highly tempting….)

..I wanted to write a memoir that would help my fellow players improve.

..I wanted to write a book rich with detail, depth and above all wisdom.

..I wanted to chart the Player’s Journey so every man following in my steps knew exactly where to go and exactly what to expect.

This was a wildly ambitious project, to write however much needed to be written to convey my knowledge. To write until it was done – however many pages it took to get there. The Nick Krauser memoir is neither a cash-in nor a victory lap. My vision was to plant my flag, to blaze a trail and leave a map for other men to follow.

Because it’s not all fun and games. It’s a tough path to follow.

WHY YOU NEED TO READ THIS BOOK

From my many years coaching students I’ve been shocked at how many men fall by the wayside. It’s no exaggeration to say over 90% of men give up, having cracked under the pressure and fallen short of their goals. NINETY PERCENT!

Those of you who’ve daygamed understand why. You know how it is to trudge through the rainy streets, your mind racing with anxiety and self-doubt, wondering if you’ll ever really make it. You know how it feels to have four dates lined up and then three cancel at short notice. You know how hard the downside hits you. It can sap you of the will to continue.

Believe me, I know how this feels. I lived it.

I know how important it was to have my friends around me, riding the same waves up and down. I could look at their experiences to be inspired by their successes and commiserated by their failures. It was so very important to have someone next to me, taking the same blows, and we pulled each other forwards.

AN ENTERTAINING INNER GAME BIBLE

A Deplorable Cad isn’t just a story. It isn’t just an entertaining recounting of my sexual escapades. This book is LOADED with heartfelt emotion and deep introspection. At every stage of my journey, at every key event, I explore how it made me FEEL and how I summoned the willpower to proceed.

Yes, I just said this book is full of FEELZ.

“How gay”, you laugh.

That’s the problem we face as men. You can’t talk about it with your mates. It feels weird, right? And Youtube and websites are full of coaches puffing themselves up like supermen who never suffer self-doubt or fear of failure.

Let’s put that shit to rest right now.

I’m a successful player yet self-doubt and fear of failure kept me company throughout the entirety of my journey. Denying it to your audience doesn’t make it go away. If anything, it hurts your audience, makes them wonder if they are the only people who doubt themselves.

A Deplorable Cad is an inner game book. The next time you struggle – the next time a girl cancels a hot date with no explanation. The next time you see your dream girl glide by, but you just CANNOT approach her no matter what – you will recall that I’ve been through this EXACT experience, and overcome it. You’ll feel the comfort of knowing you’re not the only one. The self doubt will dissipate and you will find the will to push forward.

And you won’t need to have embarrassing confessional sessions with your mates to do it!

I lived this life. My friends lived this life. And now I can take you along for the ride.

thanks for listening,

Nick Krauser

Buy my new book A Deplorable Cad in paperback here. Enter codes FWD15 and SHIPFEB17 at checkout for 15% discount and free shipping.

Another Potemkin Club

January 19, 2017
krauserpua

[I’ve already told this story but I decided to rewrite it in the context of a similar fake club experience in Thailand]

It’s late spring 2016 and I’m a little bored after a week in Warsaw. My good friend El Commandante messages me on WhatsApp, “let’s do a trip Big Bro”. I’m not really in the mood for more travel but he talks enthusiastically about Odessa, Ukraine.

“I’ve heard it’s good, bro. There’s a big nightclub complex on the beach called Arcadia”

I’d quite liked Kiev so I wondered if the coastal old resort town of Odessa might be a hidden gem. I only knew one daygamer who’d ever been and he’d given an inconclusive report. There were short direct flights out of Warsaw airport so I allowed my arm to be twisted. It would be the first new city I’d explore that year.
Coming out of the ramshackle airport I find the shuttle bus station and it’s literally – I shit you not – a corrugated iron shed. There’s one bus every half hour and it’s a battered old mini-bus. That bus ride through the outskirts of Odessa made me appreciate just how poor and backward much of Ukraine is. No wonder the Russians look down on them.

Only Moldova is worse

That’s not to say they are bad people. I’ve met a lot of Ukrainians I like. But fucking hell, it was barely a step up from Africa. As soon as I dumped my bag at a swanky Old Town hotel it started to rain. That rain only stopped for brief intervals over the next five days. Fuck.

It was Friday so El Commandante and I took a walk around the main tourist street. It was deadsville. All the foot traffic was families on holiday or unattractive locals. I saw literally one set in two hours. Kiev this wasn’t.

“Let’s get a taxi to the club, bro” said my friend.

It was quite a hike to Arcadia but as we rolled in around midnight it was pretty clear that every attractive girl in town was there. Strolling down the central plaza we passed small mixed groups sitting on benches eating ice cream and gaggles of high-heeled girls stumbling towards the nightclubs at the far end. We tried some club whose name I forget. It was pleasant. The rain had stopped so dozens of people lounged around tables in the open air and what looked like a hen party danced to cheesy music. There were a few hot girls but it was somewhat underwhelming given Odessa’s reputation.

“Let’s try next door” I offered. We walked into Ibiza club.

Nighttime is same girls in better clothes

“Fucking hell!” we both shouted. “This is pussy paradise!”

I have never – before or since – seen so many beautiful women in one place. The club had space for several hundred patrons and it was full. I quickly did a count of all the eights and stopped after five minutes when I reached 25. There were actually enough nines to make it worth counting. It’s no joke to say it was like the Victoria Secrets catwalk was a nightclub. Absolute stunners in abundance, all dolled up to the max.

“I don’t think I’ll ever leave this place” I said. And yet I’ve never been back. Why?

El Commandante and I started opening. The girls were friendly but we just couldn’t get any compliance. Laughs and chat were easy but trying to bounce them anywhere was impossible. They just stood in the same spot forever. After eight or nine sets I ran out of steam, sensing the futility. We posted up at a bar towards the beach which offered good sight lines of the outdoor dance floor and it’s surrounding areas. We watched.

“At least a third of these girls came in with their boyfriends” I noticed. The couples and groups were having great fun but completely insular, just sequestering themselves away from the crowd on pool chairs. All the other girls were in groups of three or more.

“Have you seen a single girl move from her spot?” I asked my Turkish friend. “It’s like they are mannequins in a shop window.”

Shortly after 1am the PUAs came in. There were five of them and each seemed aware of the other’s presence without actually being friends. We then watched as each of the five opened literally every girl in the nightclub who wasn’t with a boyfriend. Literally every girl had her turn with each PUA. There were also a few non-community guys trying to get laid. One Turk caught my eye because he looked like Dwayne Johnson. Big, jacked, handsome, and very well dressed he’d dance near girls and start trying to get their attention. After a few minutes he’d say a few words.

There was a quartet of foreign guys wearing t-shirts of the same surf shop who I assume live there as instructors. One was pretty cool, looking like James Franco in Pineapple Express and with a good outgoing vibe. He clearly led his gang, who deferred to him. I first picked them out when I saw them on the edge of the dance floor talking to two low-eights. My head also turned when a huge American guy ordered a drink next to me. Imagine Zach Galfianakas from The Hangover but jacked like He-Man and very good looking – pretty close to a male ten and with physical presence.

Add many points

For the next five hours, until sun-up and closing time, I watched these men try to get laid. This is what I saw.

None of the five PUAs got anything. Nothing at all. They never once kissed a girl or even moved her from one part of the club to another. Zero compliance.
The Rock didn’t get a thing. He ended the night propped against the bar with a whiskey in his hand and a defeated look in his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe a man of his value could work so hard and get so little. The next night when I returned to Ibiza he’d bought a VIP table and bottle service, looking glassy eyed as an obvious hooker kept him company.
The surfers spent literally all night working the same two set and then around 4am the girls waved goodbye and went home alone. The surfers spent the next hour muttering darkly amongst themselves.
A drunk unattractive blonde – quite possibly the ugliest girl in the nightclub – threw herself at Zach so he made out with her and then took her home. She was four points below him.
El Commandante and myself got nothing either.

Insufficient value to get it for free

A couple of months later I received a message from my enthusiastic Danish friend who looks like Jason Statham. “I’m in Odessa. Arcadia is pussy paradise!” he enthused.

“Watch carefully and tell me if anyone pulls in that club” I replied.

Four hours later he messaged. “Nothing. Nobody is getting laid here.”

On my last day in rain-soaked Odessa the sun had poked through the clouds and I had a mid-afternoon date with a Ukrainian girl I’d met in Warsaw the week before who’d coincidentally been planning an Odessa trip to see family. We spent a few hours drinking coffee and walking around but it wasn’t going anywhere. I inquired into the dating culture there.

“I don’t like it” she said. “Warsaw is more real. In Odessa there are lots of girls who’s job is to be a girlfriend. They don’t work. They spend all day in the gym or the salon or clothes shopping. Then they go to the club and advertise. They all compete to date the man with the most expensive car.”

Female rivalry aside, this smacked of truth. Ibiza nightclub isn’t real. Girls don’t go there to dance, have fun, and maybe hook up. It’s a shop window for tarts to find sugar daddies. Such a shame because the quality is phenomenal.

Early Thoughts On South East Asia

December 16, 2016
krauserpua

Regular readers will be aware that I like my hibernations. I consider my style of daygame to be seasonal in that my moods, appetite for skirt, and the weather in Europe means that going full-on all year around is just….. not much fun. So I divide up the year into the following chunks:

December to February – Hibernation. Forget daygame, focus on non-game interests, get work done, try not to get fat [1]
March – Excited to start daygame again and willing to tolerate iffy weather in one of the cities that has reliable flow of girls despite such weather.
April to June – Living the dream in Europe with visits back home between trips.
July and August – Some difficult decision making due to extreme heat and girl’s summer holidays halving the number of cities with good daygame.
September and October – Living the dream again but starting to get tired [2]
November – A last chance to try squeezing a bit more mileage out of the Euro-season in a race against time with the cold, rain and snow coming on.

This pattern suited me but over the past few years an idea has grown until it’s begun gnawing at me. A little voice has been whispering in my ear, like a mischievous squirrel trying to bullshit a bear out of his favourite cave, do you really need to spend Winter in Newcastle? There may be a better place to hibernate.

A siren song, yesterday

I could be escaping the zero degree Newcastle weather, the fat horrible women, the stodgy food, and the depressing multiculturalism of my city centre. Why not spend that time on a beach?

Well, I tried that. I went to Cancun and Chiang Mai in early 2011. I had fun but don’t care to repeat the experience. Crappy girls, third world boring shit. I tried Sao Paulo and Rio De Janiero in early 2012 but came away decided that I hate Brazilians and Brazil [3]. My key learning point from two winters in the third world is that Europe is much much better.

But there’s another reason, whispers Mid-Life Crisis Future Regret Avoidance Planner Squirrel [4], You need to take a closer look at the End Game.
“What End Game?” I reply
You are 41 years old, quite literally middle-aged says MLCFRAPS. Even though you’ll always be able to get young girls, it’ll get harder. Maybe your knees will go after all that walking. Your testosterone will drop and you just won’t have the same enthusiasm to keep chasing skirt. You need to look to the future, at Old Man Game.

Regular readers are no doubt aware of all the various Ex Pat and “Galt Game” forums on teh interwebs. There’s the likes of Naughty Nomad and Roosh V forums. Now, I don’t want to say bad things about these places because there are plenty of good straight-shooting men on there trying to share information and help each other out. Just because I personally dislike forums doesn’t make them a bad thing [5]. I’ve noticed there’s lots of talk on there from men camped out in South East Asia who are using a variety of ways to plunder the local women (allegedly).

As a general rule I don’t believe anything I read on the internet [6]. Nonetheless, it sets me thinking about if there’s anything in that lifestyle. Can a fifty-year old man go out and live in SEA and clack a bunch of hot girls? Can I add another ten years onto my player lifespan this way?

So I headed out to Asia. Bali and then Phuket. Here are my initial thoughts.

I think these are banned from South East Asia

BALI
A waste of time. I was in the Seminyak resort and also spent time in nearby Kuta. In the ten days I was there I didn’t see a single eight. Not one. The western girls were either (i) gross chubby Aussies with bad tattoos and guts, (ii) pretty Europeans with their long term boyfriends. I only saw five or six of the latter. I got a ton of matches on Tinder [7] but after filtering out the hookers and ladyboys there were just grumpy 5s and 6s. I got one of them on a date and in my bed but after molesting her for a while she said she was constipated, hadn’t had a poo in five days, and her body hurt too much to have sex.

That’s just gross. Can you imagine a Moscow girl saying that?

Bali itself is a shithole. Nature is beautiful but everything is broken and dirty, the humidity is oppressive, and there’s nothing to do.

PHUKET
I binned Bali and took a flight to Thailand. After dropping my stuff off at the hotel and showering I went out to a nightclub with Jabba. Well, it’s more like a bar/club and really it’s just a brothel for semi-pros. I grabbed a girl, chatted five minutes and took her down the street to my hotel. On my bed she asked for 1,000 baht so I threw her out. I went back to the club and pulled another girl out. She asked for 1,000 baht on the way, so I went back to club. Then Steve was smooching on with a girl and I noticed her friend was one I’d been chatting to earlier. We all went down to the beach for twenty minutes then they made excuses about having to go home because of work the next day. I took a number. Back to the club and then a fourth girl pretty much jumped me. Five minutes later I took her home. She never asked for money so I fucked her.

Next day we were dead. Hungover.

Day three I had a first date with the girl I’d taken to the beach. Halfway through the first drink I took her to the hotel and fucked her. She never asked for money. Day four an Aussie guy I know SDLd a local from Starbucks. We agreed to go to the cinema to watch the new Underworld movie. The girl invited her friend to join, who showed up midway through the movie and sat down next to me. We had a quick drink in a bar afterwards, the friend was gagging for it, so I took her home and fucked her. She didn’t ask for money.

Four days, three notches. No money paid. Barely even did any game. UPDATE: Make that 5 days, 4 notches.

So my initial impression is that Phuket is a bit better than Bali. I see plenty of hot Euro girls, especially Russians, walking around but they are always – without exception – with their boyfriends. I’m surprised how pretty some of the Thai girls are, especially the best go-go girls, but the Russians put them absolutely to shame.

I still can’t conclude on whether Phuket is a good place for the End Game. It’s a bit Disneyland and doesn’t feel like a real place. Having girls gyrating and shouting at you constantly is rather unnerving. I think it’s just not healthy to know that for 1,000 baht you can fuck almost any girl you see even if they are sitting reading a book in a cafe [8]

My guess is I’ll be sick of this place within a couple of weeks and rather glad that I put all that time into figuring out how to pull Euro girls. In the meantime, I’m having quite a lot of fun.

Difficult to stay interested in this kind of thing

[1] Or more correctly since 2015, fatter.
[2] This is when my blog flips schizophrenically between high enthusiasm and Daygame Mediocrity.
[3] Except for my very good friend and fellow daygame blogger Suave who is as Brazilian as Romario.
[4] I wonder who that phrase sounds like….
[5] Although RVF is pure comedy in an unintentional way
[6] In fact, now that I think about it, how do I know that this blog post wasn’t just made up by someone on the internet?
[7] In itself quite a strange feeling because I never get matches in Europe.
[8] Aussie dude didn’t pay, but girl later revealed she actually has a sponsor.

If you enjoyed reading about my no-game successes in Thailand, you probably won’t want to bother with my book. That’s all game. And game is difficult.

Daygame Mediocrity #5 – The Rock Star Lifestyle

October 13, 2016
krauserpua

Oooh, we’re gettin’ ready Ow!!!
Here we go hahaha!!!!!
I’m ready Oooh!!!

My vibe, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!

Whats up guys! Welcome to another episode of rockstar life with me Nick “The Solution” Krauser. I just woke up at 2pm because of next door’s dog barking at the garbage collector truck, stoppnig my plan to sleep till three. As I lay in my bed I thought what would Axl Rose do?

Getting ready to rock
Getting ready to roll
I’m gonna turn up the heat
I’m gonna fire up the coal [1]

Rock-starring isn’t all cocaine-fuelled hotel-trashing parties with groupies you know [2]. Sometimes you have to put on your y-fronts, make some Weetabix, and sit on a chair watching Killroy. Tomorrow I plan to stay in bed until 3pm. YES MUTHAFUCKAS!!!! 3PM!!! I heard Gene Simmons would regularly rise after FOUR O’CLOCK the madman! That’s my goal.

Target LOCK!

I’m listening to AC/DC.

I’m a HEATSEEKER!!!!! BURNING UP THE TOWN! H-E-A-T-S-E-E-K-E-R!!!! My state is so high and I DON’T NEED NO ONE TO HOSE ME DOWN

Right. Where was I? Right, the Weetabix is finished and I’m going to hit the TOWN. Right action means taking action that is RIGHT not WRONG. Because then it’s WRONG ACTION and you know who takes WRONG ACTION????

Chodes. That’s who.

Anyway, guys. I hope you found that lesson useful. Email me for ROCK STAR LIFESTYLE coaching so you too can live my life. Not my actual life – that would be weird. In fact, why would you want exactly my life? What’s fucking wrong with you, anyway? Are you the Talented Mr Shipley?

You gotta keep that woman firing
You gotta keep that serpent clean
You gotta make her sound the siren
You gotta hear that lady scream [3]

[1] – But not “burn the coal”, if you take my meaning.
[2] – which is just as well because I don’t seem to get invited to such parties right now. I need to increase my self-belief and freedom-of-intent to get those piling up.
[3] – Ironically after three hours of RIGHT ACTION in Covent Garden I made two little Portuguese tourists scream, and not in the good way.

Daygame Mediocrity #3 – Same Day Lay With Russian Supermodel*

October 9, 2016
krauserpua

The strongest frame wins.

There is no objective reality. We are all moist robots who are programmed to survive and reproduce rather than to see the world as it really is. A true master persuader can win every time if only he is in the moment and he lives through his intentions with freedom from outcome and a dailed- in nimbis for the Now to utilise his ultimate seduction model to a peak of tight game with kino-leading and forward stacking.

It’s simple stuff, people.

So here I present you with the most AUTHENTIC and real video to build your self confidence (100% HONEST) and become your AUTHENTIC SELF in the MOMENT and reach TRUE ALIGNMENT. Forget the Krauser Toolkit and all the other BULLSHIT that PUAs were selling you only yesterday. Here’s the secret about women:

They don’t have brains. They don’t have opinions.

Even if a girl is in love with her steady boyfriend, they’ve announced their engagement to family and friends, and she’s blissfully happy at the thought of marrying her true love – a man she’s admired for years, feels a close personality fit with, has bonded over shared experiences, and with whom she’s planned a life together.

IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER!

Women are IN THE MOMENT. You – a narrow-shouldered 5’6″ PUA of ethnic origin who is only in town for two weeks hitting on literally every girl you see despite not speaking her language – yes YOU can still get that girl if you do just ONE THING!

What is that ONE THING? What is the BIG SECRET? I’ll tell you.

You must simply get in the moment and be truly authentic with yourself and your separate personalities to project yourself as mindful of intent and yet free from outcome and then refuse to accept NO for an answer because this is beasting and so you hold her hand and do kino-leading and move her for the idate to build a domino effect or something that I can’t actually explain and then with a deep romantic connection she’ll be IN THE MOMENT and forget about that**

Why?

Because she’s a girl so she doesn’t have a brain, or preferences, or any ability at all to reject your ULTIMATE GAME.

* Your experience of the video may differ. This was obviously a clear SDL opportunity but I decided to reject her because it was 12:55, I was a bit hungry and Coffee Shop Company stop serving ham and mozzarella panninis at 1pm. I was so free from outcome that I decided a pannin and americano were a higher priority. Still, because she would’ve totally fallen for my game – had I just idated her – I’m still counting it as a notch.

** Or just mute out the bit where you offer her a job, and the later bits where she asks about the job, and get a creepy friend to fill those spaces with audio analysis.

Daygame Mediocrity #2 – Krauserfoolery and the Street Swindle

October 5, 2016
krauserpua

The world is not how it appears. We have been brought up to expect a certain stability to the world around us, weened off dependence on our parents and onto dependence on the government and upon cultural tropes. There’s a set formula to dating now: install the Tinder app, swipe right, then hope you get picked. We are using machines to date.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could date against this machine?

I have conducted extensive research into the social world and I have a secret for you: many people are already living their lives against the machine. They are swimming against the crowd and hustling a buck here and there.

Con men are befriending elderly old women in end-of-life care homes then swindling them out of their life savings.
Double-glazing salesmen are cold-calling low-IQ housewives on owner-occupied housing estates and bullshitting them into buying expensive new windows.
Jewish hedge-fund managers are paying off backhanders to financial regulators to get inside information or forebearance to ignore the imminent collapse of their Ponzi schemes.

I ask you – the aspiring daygamer – what can we learn from these men? What can we learn from the world’s most immoral swindlers that we can then action in our own quest to swindle women out of sex they’d never freely give up to us?

Respect the hustle, yesterday

Hi, I’m Uncle Nick and I’d like to introduce you to the Krauser Toolkit [1] that you can practice with your daygame. Each day you go out, I want you to do 300 sets and keep one of these tricks in mind:

Krauser Stop – This entails walking up to a girl, making weird “bee bop” noises and waving your hands like a retard.
Hand of Krauser – Shake a girl’s hand when you introduce yourself.
Pedo Eyes – Holding steady and slightly creepy eye contact with a girl you really don’t believe you are entitled to fuck [2]

Watch and learn, my trainee swindlers. Here is another set from Daygame Mediocrity.

[1] – Please, please, don’t actually take any of this seriously.

[2] – Really, don’t. I’m trolling.

Join the secret society – Citydaygame edition

July 14, 2016
krauserpua

I checked my pedometer today and realised I’ve averaged 15km every day I’ve been in Prague on my latest jaunt. No wonder my feet ache. It’s been a funny old time – I got a notch on my first full day, then maybe deflowered a virgin on the second (there’s some confusion over if I had my dick fully in for the relatively short time it lasted before she ran), got a blowjob off a 17yr old bisexual an hour after gutter gaming her, and there were a few lesser stories in the mix. It felt like I was in some kind of secret society. A tiring society. So tiring I can’t be bothered to write blogposts. In fact the only thing I can be bothered to write is a Pokemon Go style easter egg. So as I’m recently won’t to do, I tapped up the citydaygame boys for some content. This time Colombia-slayer Vaughn offers his thoughts on entering the Secret Society. Do check out their blog for lots of player’s journey stories.

Uni days, artist’s impression

I was a complete loser with girls throughout my school days and at University. During Uni I was obsessed with three girls, one was the sister of one of my best friends. A blonde girl with big tits and blue eyes. She’d come up to visit her brother and fuck one of the popular guys in our group. I tried everything to get her to like me, and wondered what the other guy had that I didn’t. We’d all go out and drink together, she’d tease me, I thought I had a chance with her. I was deluded.

The 2nd was the first girl I fingered, I cooked her a romantic dinner to win her over, she was impressed. After dinner I tried to escalate, I had no clue, we were kissing in her bed I got my hands down her panties and rubbed her pussy roughly. That’s as far as I got, we didn’t meet again. She went off to Canada for a year, where she fucked a boatload of Canadian guys.

The third girl I had a thing for, was short athletic and pretty. One Valentines day, I made her a trail of messages, I remember making the clues and hiding them around our shared house. I wanted to show her how much I liked her. I cringe looking back now. I did “win” a pity date with her, which was just a way for her to get me on my own and let me down gently. She put me firmly into the friend zone.

I had no clue how to seduce any of these girls and all my attempts ended in brush offs or friend-zonings. Even the tried and tested, get them drunk and hope for the best didn’t work, at least for me. Looking back, I can see all the failures, failure to escalate them, failure to isolate, getting too drunk, over investment, pedestalisation. I had zero game, I didn’t even know what game was. What was worse I had no idea how to change this. In the end I did lose my virginity.

One night I was out in a club, a girl said “I like your hair”, she drunkenly kissed me, then a taxi back to mine, my first same night lay. She mounted me on my bed and took my virginity, I was 21, we dated for a while, I thought we’d be together for ever, we were a terrible match. I visited her after her first night at her new industry placement, she’d been partying the night before with her new colleagues., she was very hungover. I sensed something was different, she sat me on her bed and dumped me. She told me she’d kissed a guy the previous night, I was devastated. I’m still unsure whether she’d fucked the guy as well. Thinking back, of course she fucked him. I left her flat and actually cried.

Re-enactment with actors

Fast forward 15 years, the last girl I fucked was a cute Colombian air hostess 10 years my junior, one hour before I had to get my flight to London and 45 mins before she had to start work on her flight. It was a fast 25 mins of sex. I couldn’t find her place in a Bogota suburb, I was an hour late. Her two female housemates had just arrived home, she was rushing to get ready for her work and I had to get my flight soon. She was on her period too, this shouldn’t work.

I enter her room, 5 minutes of chat and 10 minutes later I’ve rubbered up and am banging her on her bed, she’s half dressed in her trolley dolly uniform and trying to keep quiet so her housemates don’t hear. I’m halfway through and her housemate calls her name, knocks on her door and asks her something in Spanish. She motions me to be quiet. I pause, she shouts an answer. A quick exchange in Spanish, interval over. She’s back grabbing at my ass, pulling me deeper into her, I resume banging her, she’s still trying to keep quiet, she’s not doing a good job at it.

I calculate how long I have to get my flight, and realise I need to finish soon. I ramp it up, and fuck her hard, cumming as she gasps. We lay there for a couple of minutes, I pull the condom off and throw it on the floor.

She turns on the lights, the condom is a red bloody mess, I look at my groin and see the splatters of blood. I pull my pants and walk naked to her bathroom. I clean my cock in her sink and use the hand towel to dry it off. When I return she’s removed her uniform and is ready for a shower. I dress and sit in the lounge room, her two housemates eye me. I smirk and ask one of them to call me a taxi. The girl leaves the shower and dresses. my taxi is arriving. We kiss and she whispers “thank you”. I rush to the airport and just manage to catch my flight.

The younger version of myself wouldn’t have imagined that this pre-flight fuck was possible. I would have been disgusted with fucking a girl on her period. How things change.

Through months of cold approach and dates I’ve internalised much of the skill set (taught in Daygame Mastery) and tools used in Daygame and by doing this I’ve given myself the ability to act on opportunities with women when they arrive. You can come from really terrible to beginnings like me and still learn to slay pussy. I’m 36 and get more girls than I ever did in my early 20s. It takes time, effort, pain and applying the lessons but the rewards are worth it.

Daygame and cold approach enrich your life, they give you stories and excitement, it’s dangerous, dirty and fun. You realise what is possible and you can’t imagine a life without it. When the secret society opens it’s bloody gates and lets you in, you won’t want to leave.

If you thought that post expertly retold a daygame journey with dramatic flourish, you should see my old book.

The Hare and the Tortoise

April 26, 2016
krauserpua

I’m a logical, disciplined man reared on book reading and video games. I also spent a large portion of my adult life working in finance and learning martial arts. This encouraged me to develop an incremental linear meta-view of the world.

A meta-what????

Ask yourself this – how does one progress or achieve in life?

Most people of my fuddy-duddy generation were brought up to think we are tortoises rather than hares. The fact that parable is so well understood proves the point that it’s heavy in the zeitgeist. We have been taught that success is about plodding on with smart, persistent hard work and as you continually endure and overcome setbacks, you make your long march towards progress.

Work nine to five in an office and keep building up the experience and skills to earn that next promotion.
Study for your exams, learn formulae, answer practice questions under exam conditions and then you’ll eventually pass.
Hit the gym four times a week, do your reps, slightly increased the weight each time, and your body with grow strong and ripped.
Hit the streets three times a week for your 10 + 10 + 20 daygame sets and after enough grinding the lays come through.

But is this actually how we progress?

I don’t think so. Now, I don’t want to take the opposite end of that caricature and recommend the “lottery ticket” strategy or fatalistic Magical Thinking. There’s undoubtedly value in grim determination and persistence – even talents like Floyd Mayweather Jnr will put the hours into bagwork and jump rope. It’s a necessary condition but not a sufficient one. Real progress often comes down to two steps:

Recognising a rare opportunity
Jumping on it

[You could add an earlier step of “making your opportunities” too but that’s what targeted grindwork is meant to create]

Much of success comes down to smart decisions taken at key moments, when the combination of hard work and lucky fate throw up a bifurcation point. How many football games have been won and lost because one player spotted an opening, made the run, and was in the right place when the ball ricocheted off the crossbar? How many boxing matches have been won not due to a steady build up of jabs and body shots but by trapping the opponent into walking onto that one home-run left hook? How many battles have been won not due to steady attrition and tactics but by one innovation or one general’s courageous decision taken on the field of battle?

Me coaching by osmosis, yesterday

Most of the women you see on the street are not going to fuck you. Just not going to happen. They don’t fancy you, or they are taken, or they are in the wrong mood, or they are against meeting strangers, or everything works out great and then logistics intervene. Failure is the natural persistent state of Game. Players are really looking out for two things in a girl:

She’s available
She’s into you

Some guys have such high SMV and their ping range so wide that (2) is frequently satisfied. However blog readers are well aware I have no interest in looks-matched age-matched “game”. Even the David Gandys of this world have a narrow pool of available/into-you from which to draw if they are red-lining it towards the upper limit of their quality ceiling. Aiming high forces scarcity onto everybody.

So how does this relate to daygame strategy?

In poker you will lose almost every hand. You’ll fold most hands at the very first deal because your two cards simply aren’t any good to pursue. Even if you bet to reach the Flop, you’ll fold most flops. That’s the smart strategy because it costs chips to play a hand. If you’re always trying to get involved, you’ll just burn through your stack. An aspiring poker player must control his urge to play everything.

Compare this to a typical office, factory or service job. In those roles you have a linear relationship to each task. Maybe you process passport applications – you begin the day with a stack of them and then work through steadily, each taking approximately the same time and mental energy. Each incrementally earning that paycheck. Maybe you install widgets in an appliance assembly line – again it’s steady even work that steadily earns your paycheck. Same with serving diners or checking in hotel guests. It’s the tortoise steadily moving towards the finish line. Slow and steady wins the race.

Poker players do not incrementally increase their winnings. It’s feast or famine. There are a tiny number of hands where you can win big so you must identify them and play them perfectly. You lose often, so make sure you lose small. You win rarely, so you’d better win big and scoop a fat pot. A key skill in poker is to keep your losses small so that you still have enough of a stack to play the rare good hands correctly.

Daygame is poker. Almost every girl is a No, but every now and then you’ll meet a girl who is available and into you. That’s when you bring your stack into play.

It doesn’t really matter if you’re fucking 1-in-20 opens or 1-in-100. The important point is that even with fantastically (I’d say suspiciously) good ratios like 1-in-20 you’re dealing with the reality of 19/20 (95%) of opens being a road to nowhere. You need to identify these No’s early so you don’t whittle down your Vibe Stack on idates-to-nowhere, text-hell, and time-waster-dates. That’s the daygame equivalent of betting too long on a losing hand. Just like you can only bring so many chips to a poker game, you only have so much enthusiasm for daygame and it will eventually wear out and require time-off to replenish.

The whole time you are looking to identify that rare set that could win the entire pot. That’s a real skill. That’s how daygame is played at the strategic level.

This is why you should never spam approach. That’s like a poker player on tilt. A spammer is a blind idiot who bets every hand without checking his cards, running the maths, or watching his opponent’s betting behaviour. He’s not really playing poker at all, he’s doing a mechanical empty caricature of it with none of the craft. He’s pissing away all his chips on hopeless hands until his stack is gone. Even the most aspy nerd incurs emotional costs in daygaming and by spamming he is massively increasing the amount of failure.

The RSD school of “bet all-in every single hand” daygame

This isn’t the “every failure takes you a step closer to success” where you judiciously choose your sets and learn from them. This is more like “every failure takes you closer to a meltdown and giving up the game entirely”. When you give in to the temptation to spam you are switching off your brain and losing the ability to read signals. The sets just blur into one another as if they are more widgets or more passport applications. True art is not made by throwing paint at the canvas and no football team wins a World Cup by shooting every single time they get the ball.

You need to go out and you frequently need to grind, but don’t ever think that x number of sets will lead to y number of results. Sets are not widgets. Grinding just means you are sitting at the poker table, putting in your ante, and waiting until you get a hand worth playing. That’s when you really turn the game on, like the hare turning on a burst of speed.

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

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

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