What I learned from Giacomo Casanova

October 29, 2019


Currently wanted by Scottish police force

I’ve now read six volumes of the lecherous Venetian’s epic memoir which, I believe, puts me at the halfway mark. It’s been an entertaining and eye-opening read. In fact, I’d go so far as to rank it as the all-time second best player memoir series. Well worth a crack.

Like many other cultural icons – James Bond, Conan the Barbarian, Dogtanian [1] for example – the popular image of the man is at variance with how he is written in the original stories. My readers are perhaps wiser on matters Casanova than most but I’ll bet most of you know him as an elite-level seducer of top-quality Regency tottie. Well, that’s not quite accurate. Casanova operated in a very different world than today’s humble seducers and faced different challenges. He also had different priorities. So, let’s consider some of the things I learned from his story so far….

1. He played the whole lover-provider range.
Orthodoxy within the London Daygame community is that if you pay for sex, it doesn’t count. It is no more of an achievement to bang a whore/sugarbaby/Ukrainian “model” [2] than it is to buy a movie ticket and watch The Avengers. To call yourself a player when paying for sex is like calling yourself a comedian while paying everyone in the audience to laugh at your jokes. There’s no accomplishment. No winning.

Casanova clearly took pride in his real seductions, and the books include many of them. He’d pursue some women for weeks on end, going to elaborate lengths to woo them. He’d also just as easily pay for it in cash, or set up mistresses with houses and incomes. He was shameless about it. In one case in France, he sets up a silks factory and hires two dozen young seamstresses, then proceeds to hit on every one of them, offering money for sex.

The memoirs include rapes, prostitution, sugar-daddying, and extortion as means of getting laid in addition to the usual seduction.

Dirck van Baburen,  The Procuress

The Claw, yesterday

2. Smart men had his number.
It took a while for me to figure this out, but as the books wore on I started to see a pattern emerge. Casanova would arrive in a town and ingratiate himself into a series of social circles, often with a particular woman in mind. Almost immediately he’d make an enemy or two among local men. In itself, no big deal. Until, that is, I realised his enemies were usually high-ranking army men with careers in soldiering, or successful business men. It was wolves recognising a rabbit in their midst. Casanova is frequently run out of town by men who, to him, seem to persecute him without provocation. In volume six he arrives in Switzerland and is temporarily forced to restrain himself and not hit on women for a week. He comments that when walking the streets, locals look at him with respect and he’s not used to that! Other times his reputation precedes him, for good and ill.

3. Sexually transmitted diseases were a huge risk
Casanova is frequently sidelined by illness, sometimes taking painful mercury and nitrate cures to clear up venereal diseases, and out of action for months at a time. This was two hundred years before antibiotics and Casanova usually refused to wear “English sheaths”. There’s one funny time where he stays at a lodge and takes a fancy to one of the girls there, Raton, so offers her two louis to come round and shag him. After showing her to his bedroom he steps out to the lavatory and noticed a patron has scrawled “October 10, 1760, one week ago Raton gave me the clap and it’s killing me.” Casanova returns to find Raton naked in his bed and her shawl stuffed down between it and the wall. He pulls it out and notices its stains. She flees.

Another intrigue is centred around him getting the pox from a vengeful Madame F. and, because his Spanish valet Ludec has also just caught the pox, Casanova is able to turn the tables. It’s a squalid story I shan’t spoil.

City Daygame

Knee-Clap was endemic

4. He was ruled by his urges.
Casanova was an inveterate gambler in addition to his lustful wanderings. Most of his stories are some variation of this model: (1) show up in new town with letter of introduction from a notable in previous town, and with a full purse, (2) join a social circle centred around an aristocratic lady, (3) gamble every day, winning and losing large amounts, (4) target the lady or one of her retinue (5) get into some kind of intrigue behind the husband’s back, (6) leave town due to either a duel, the pox, or unpaid debts.

Casanova is an inconstant. He will fall in love with a girl and contemplate marriage. They’ll develop a serious relationship and then, just before proposing, the daughter of the local baker will catch his eye and he’s off after her instead. The old flame is simple forgotten.

5. There’s rather more murder than one would expect.
The last story of volume six concerns a mistaken identity with a nun. The thirty-five year old Casanova is walking home one afternoon when he sees a young nun (21yr old) chaperoned by an old battleaxe nun. He mistakenly thinks it’s an old flame called M.M. from five years earlier, so he follows them to their lodgings in a peasant cottage. An intrigue ensues. In order to deflect the battleaxe, the young nun (who is hiding a pregnancy inflicted by a fifty-year old hunchback) conspires with the peasant landlady to give the older woman a sleeping soporific. They overdo it and the battleaxe has been asleep for 28 hours. Casanova consults with them and they decide not to call a doctor, as it would reveal the pregnancy and the intrigue. So, they let her die and pay off the parish priest to get her buried without incident.

Years earlier Casanova ambushed a man walking home late one night, clubbed him with a blackjack, and threw him unconscious into a canal. The poor victim was only saved by revellers who saw him floating. There are other such events. Casanova appears to have had no scruples at all.


There’s always someone cheating at Faro

6. Degenerates seek him out.
There’s one story in volume five where literally everyone involved is on the make: He fancies the daughter of his inn-keeper but she’s been made pregnant by some random a month earlier, and nobody knows. So, Casanova consults an aristocratic lady friend who recommends a local midwife abortionist. Social pressure is immense, so they have a plan to go to a masquerade ball together then slip out, take a coach, and consult the midwife. They pay her a 50% deposit to buy the supplies, then tell the pregnant woman. Ultimately, they don’t follow through.

Months later, Casanova is walking in a park when the midwife recognises him. She’s with a rogue. She reports him the the Chief of Police saying he tried to procure an abortion and she refused. So Casanova is about to be prosecuted. Witnesses are “found” to support the midwife. What follows is a comedy of betrayal, pay-offs, and dissembly as literally everyone is trying to scam everyone else.

Another time, in volume six, Casanova shows up in town and is immediately targeted by three officers who slip him roofies, take him for a fortune in an illicit gambling den, steal his jewellery, and then pursue him through the local courts for payment. He ends up drugging the guard at his hotel, sneaking out a neighbour’s window, and fleeing town. In other towns he always seems to know the card sharps, pimps, abortionists, con-men, and other low-life. This despite him being rich and supposedly moving in high circles.

7. Logistics were a nightmare.
It’s not unusual for Casanova to rent a country house, full complement of servants, and host grand balls just in order to provide a plausible reason to snatch a quarter hour with his target. He’ll bribe staff, wear disguises, and communicate in secret codes with his target in order to secure a couple of hours isolation. Frankly, it sounds like a nightmare. We should be thankful for smartphones and urban anonymity.

8. AMOGing isn’t so special.
Casanova was considered a good amateur swordsman and several times he fights duels to first blood. Other times he challenges irate suitors to duels and they don’t show. Those of us growing up in the era of 2005-PUA are well aware of anti-AMOG tactics. Hey, great shirt pal. Cool story, bro. Seeing Casanova duelling with pointy blades is a reminder of just how faggy modern PUA is, as an expression of how faggy modern nightclubs and dating can be.

Amazon listing

I should probably announce the release of Last Man Banging at some point, considering it’s already available on Amazon in paperback and hardcover. And, it’s way better written than old Giacomo’s effort.

[1] The latter is not actually a dog!
[2] Yes, The Natural Lifestyles, I’m looking at you.

Five Weeks No Fap

October 22, 2019

Throughout my life, I’d always known I was surrounded by a bunch of wankers but now it has literally come to pass. I’m the only clean-minded individual around these parts. One of my friends recently developed a strain of chlamydia so bad that it spread to his knees and ankles, putting him on crutches in Dickensian fashion [1]. In figuring out who he’d contracted it from, he was only able to narrow it down to three particularly unsavoury tarts. Another of my friends recently ended a cycle of Human Growth Hormone, then we went on the lash in Antwerp whereupon not only did he out-drink me quite prodigiously, but he invigorated himself with ample cocaine. When that was gone he flagged down two passing vibrants and cadged some kind of gas- the street name of which escapes me- that is snorted from a balloon.

I dunno, when did I become the paragon of clean living? Compared to such shenanigans, sitting at home reading a book a day comes off as positively boring.

The Wire

Might as well just move here

Anyway, pre-amble aside I wanted to offer some thoughts on how my No Fap has been going. I initially opted for a Hard Reset, meaning no porn, no fap, and no sex. It may surprise you that of the three, my only lapse was in the sex – I banged an old flame who stopped off in Newcastle on her way to visit a friend in Scotland. Does that mean I reset the Hard Reset clock to zero?

Of course not! We all know that re-treads are not notches and therefore don’t count as real sex. This is established PUA orthodoxy. Phew!

So, five weeks/35 days of precious little stimulation. What’s it been like?

Rather good, I’d say. My attention span continues to lengthen and I get decreasingly distracted by sex-related thoughts. I do find sexual desire bubbling up multiple times a day, usually triggered by a line or two in a book I’m reading, but I don’t feed it and it dissipates within about five minutes, fifteen at the outside. In my daygame days I’d deliberately nurture such bubblings in order to spur me to seductive action whereas nowadays I take the opposite route, dampening down the urges and distracting myself with other things until they disappear.


Five minutes’ distraction, yesterday

I’ve found the sexual appetite is absolutely not a NEED. You try going without food and water, you’ll discover what need really means. The sexual urge simply comes and goes. I can see how monks could go decades without acting upon that urge.

Strangely, I’m reminded of a reader’s letter in Viz magazine [2]. It went something along the lines of: “It is medically-proven that the adult male must discharge semen through ejaculation every two weeks, whether through sex or masturbation. So, Cliff Richard, which is it?” Obviously, that was written for comic effect and there’s likely no such medical consensus. However, I’d always assumed the sex urge was like holding your breath underwater: at some point, you will come up for breath. I can say from 35 day’s experience, this isn’t true. It comes and goes. It doesn’t build up if you fail to act upon it.

I did have one minor lapse that surprised me. I was checking my torrents folder on my desktop, after many months away from it. There was a Japanese porno I’d downloaded from JAVJunkies about a year ago taking up 5GB of harddrive space. Wishing to free up space, but curious, I decided to skip through it to see if I definitely wanted to delete it. I’m calling that a lapse because I should’ve just deleted it sight-unseen.

Anyway, I watch the opening credits (non-sexual scene setting) and remember, “Ah, this one was a bit shite, no wonder I forgot it”. I click on the timeline, quickly scanning across the ninety minute run time and I realise something odd: it’s considerably more interesting now than it was a year ago. Having grown unaccustomed to lust and sexual stimulation, landing on the middle of a sex scene was like taking a line of cocaine. My brain lit right up and relatively mediocre tarts engaged in relatively badly-staged scenes were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

So I closed the media player and deleted it.

I thus conclude that my brain chemistry is in fact changing. Spending time away from lustful thoughts and entertainments does indeed settle a man down.

Speaking of settling down, Daygame Mastery and Daygame Overkill will help you pull lots of girls and thus avoid having to do so. And Epstein didn’t kill himself.

[1] Jimmy and I felt terrible mocking him for that, but we didn’t stop.
[2] To date, the funniest periodical ever printed.

Powder And Patch

October 16, 2019

My gran was a wily old goat [1] and I recall her once letting slip to my dad, as she was helped into the front seat of his car, “I don’t think Nick is going to marry again.” That was about seven years ago and I’ve done nothing to prove her words inaccurate. My gran was well into her Mills & Boons novels, a monthly book club for lovers of romance fiction. North American readers should think of Harlequin romances to get an idea of it. Kind of like Mack Bolan for birds. Every lunchtime when I’d walk from school to my gran’s for lunch, she’d have a little stack of Mills & Boons paperbacks on the coffee table.

Years passed. I decided to read one today. I was very quickly reminded of a presentation my old buddy Tony T had given at a 2009 bootcamp. He’d based it on the book Dangerous Men Adventurous Women, a series of essays by writers of women’s romance, explaining how they fashioned the stories. “Get to know what birds pine for, and your seduction game will improve,” he advised.

not gay at all

Not as gay as The Natural Lifestyles coaches

So it is with this in mind that I picked up a paperback of Georgette Heyer’s Powder And Patch, a 1923 regency romance [2] first published by Mills & Boons. And, my oh my, isn’t it half red pill! Reading old books does make you realise that what we think is edgy / thoughtcrime in 2019 was in fact simply “common sense” in earlier times. The story is standard stuff: Phillip is the young son of a country squire Maurice, both of them simple honest men desirous of a quiet village life. Phillip has fallen in love with neighbour and recently come-of-age Cleone who appears to share his sentiments, though neither dares voice their feelings. The foppish Henry returns to their village to lie low after a duel in London and cracks on to Cleone to amuse himself. His wordly knowledge and fast patter make Phillip seem dull by contrast, so Cleone goads him to “go become a gentlemen”. Piqued, Phillip sets off and his dad Maurice entrusts him to the formerly-foppish uncle Tom to educate him in the ways of High Society.

Like I said, its for the birds. There are no explosions, car chases, ticking bombs, or strip clubs. There are a few sword fights but strictly until first blood and with no intention to seriously wound. It’s a light-hearted book.

But the red pills! Get a load of this advice as the two older brothers chat about how a man of means should live…..


Isn’t that exactly the life advice Rollo dishes out over at The Rational Male? What could be redder pill than that? It would seem us Euro Jaunters aren’t quite the pioneers we may like to think we are. Later, Phillip turns into a debauched gentleman in Paris and he certainly knows how to go on a bender…..

powder 1

So far, so interesting but the book really earns its red pill spurs in the character of wise old Aunt, Lady Malmerstoke. Phillip has returned to London and is the talk of Society, the same circles that Cleone has recently been debuted at by the Aunt. As you’d expect from a romance novel, many misunderstandings and awkward events ensue to keep the couple at odds. Eventually, Phillip asks Cleone’s hand in marriage and she rejects him (out of pique, she does love him). Distraught, Phillip seeks advice from Lady Malmerstroke.

Dickheads, I present you with a masterclass in understanding the female psyche. It begins with Phillip having told Lady Malmerstroke that Cleone challenged him on having flirted with too many women already and thus being a man of tainted reputation. Perhaps you’d like to open your copy of Mystery Method to compare it line by line….

powder section

Let’s recap what game fundamentals Lady Malmerstroke is advising:

1. Deny, deny, deny!
2. Women want to be mastered.
3. Don’t listen to what they say.
4. Women are irrational.
5. Don’t reason with them.

I dunno, it almost seems like Chateau Heartiste is still writing.

It also got me thinking on another point: the interchanges between men and women in this book are so much deeper and more nuanced than anything a typical PUA is capable of coming up with. These dialogues are verbal sparring, proper banter. The men are impressing the women by their ability to outclass the latter in the art of conversation. It’s a deeper game than simply caressing their hand, pushing logistics, and escalating. These books involve the man winning over uncertain women, not simply filtering for whatever Yes Girls will take them.

If you like nuanced game that pays appropriate respect to game fundamentals while also specifically adapting to the needs of a modern daygamer, get yourself Daygame Overkill and Daygame Mastery. Learn to play the game in Maybe.

[1] Before senile dementia diminished her faculties, sadly.
[2] That means set in the 18th century, you clod.

The Rule of Lust

October 10, 2019

I just passed the three-week mark of my No Fap streak. It wasn’t particularly difficult as I’ve never been one to engage in that kind of muck on a frequent basis [1]. What’s been unusual is how little interest I’ve even had for porn since I completely cut it out of my life. I expected I’d miss the stimulation, that somehow absence would make the heart grow fonder. It’s been quite the contrary – out of sight, out of mind.

Now that it’s gone, it’s like it was never really there. Kinda like my mate from Wales’s YouTube channel.

Given that I was never a porn addict, why have I been so Adam Ant about giving up on it entirely? That would be because of the Rule Of Lust.


Get back thee, Satan!

I hadn’t even considered the issue until Universal Man mentioned it in passing on one of his Sexual Self-Mastery videos [2]. He postulates that Lust is a cheap, superficial imitiation of healthy sexual desire, much as junk food is of a healthy diet. It is a super-stimulation, all sizzle and no steak. When addicted to porn, a man’s sex drive rockets until he’s horny all the time. This lust squeezes out all other interests in life until nothing but sex matters. Everything else in life is cheapened, drowned out by the lustful instinct.

I can relate to that. Many times I’ve been on Euro Jaunts and wondered, “what do normal people even do on holiday, if they aren’t chasing skirt?” I’d see people queuing outside the opera, or dining in fancy restaurants and wonder what the hell they are playing at. What a pointless load of shit when you could be clacking some young bird.

Coco Opéra Paris Society ©RomainRicard


I’d come to look back on my teenager years as a woefully-missed opportunity to get notches. Many a time back then I’d get talking to girl, make out with her, and then keep her at a distance. At least half a dozen times I declined to bang girls who were absolutely serving it up on a plate for me. They weren’t unattractive either. Why?

To a PUA, it seems like absolute madness. Why would you turn down easy notches from pretty girls?

Well, teenager me just didn’t particularly care. Sure, I’d have liked to bang those birds but I remember what stopped me: “she’s going to want to keep hanging around, isn’t she? She’ll expect us to do it more, and go on dates and stuff.” I was rather choosy about which girls I’d let into my life so, to forestall letting the wrong ones in, I declined to shag them. Don’t let me overstate how often this happened. Maybe a half dozen times in two years. Maybe add another dozen where it hadn’t yet been served up on a plate but probably would have been if I’d put forth a little more effort.

The point was this: casual sex wasn’t very important to teenage me. I was not ruled by lust.

When a man is lustful he’s not really in control of his life. He’s certainly not free. Say you’re in a cafe reading a book and two hot slags birds walk in, twittering on like decorative little dollies. Your head comes up and your concentration is broken. Lustful thoughts fill your mind and there’s an ache in your soul if you don’t try to bang them. It can be very frustrating. I’ve spent years of my life in that state. It gets tiresome.

two hot slags

What would YOU do?

A couple of years ago I began thinking what life would be like without libido. My primary conclusion: it would be a blessed relief.

You can’t just cut porn/birds/sex out of your life and expect to be happy. Something has to fill the gap. For me, it has been reading and gym. I don’t expect to remain in Monk Mode forever. For the time being, though, I’m enjoying life a lot as my sexual urge is ratcheted downward, lust no longer inflames my blood, and I can get on with other interests.

I doubt I could’ve found satisfaction in a cleaner simpler life if I hadn’t first banged loads of birds.

But anyway, I don’t recommend YOU become a monk – nosiree! You’d be far better off chasing lots of skirt and what better way to succeed than to buy Daygame Overkill and Daygame Mastery.

[1] And this magazine is for my dad, sir.
[2] An interesting series. Recommended.

Escape Loops

October 2, 2019

A concept I liked from Universal Man‘s discussion of dopamine detox is that of Escape Loops and Productivity Loops. It goes thus…. Cortisol is the drug released by the body to create dissatisfaction. It is the stick to dopamine’s carrot, there in order to motivate behavioural change. So, something happens that’s against your interests and requires action…. you get a dose of cortisol.

Getting fat and looking like shit in front of the mirror? That’s your SMV going down, and the rising sense of unease you feel is caused by cortisol.

Been on the wrong end of a run of +1 texts from your daygame mates? That’s your social status going down [1] so you’re denied the pleasurable seratonin and instead blasted with a shot of cortisol.

Failed a job interview? Carpeted by the boss at work? Stuck in a traffic jam?


Fixed an election and STILL lost it?

It’s all cortisol. Your body is reacting to a perceived change against its interests and attempting to prod you into restorative action. The problem is two-fold. First, your body is adapted to a different environment and is thus misreading cues. A traffic jam is not actually a threat to your survival and replication. We are no longer in the state of nature. Second, modern society has furnished us with a range of diversions that allow us to counter-act the cortisol spike without actually addressing its root cause. Universal Man calls them escape loops, and they are activities which drown out the cortisol with dopamine without solving the problem at hand.

Porn is the big one. There are many more: comfort eating, getting blotto drunk, chasing sub-par skirt, farming social media likes, binge-watching Netflix, video games etc. They are all quick-fixes of dopamine that will wash away the badfeelz of cortisol. They are escapism.

Badfeelz (cortisol) —> Escapism (dopamine) —-> Repeat

It gets worse.

On a single per-occurrence basis, there’s not much harm in engaging in a little escapism. You’re struggling on your Moscow euro-jaunt, your mate +1s the WhatsApp group, so you quietly have a wank and go to sleep. Not a problem [2]. But what if you keep doing it?

Here we get into another problem, that of Shadow Careers. It’s a term Universal Man picked up from Steven Pressman [3]. The modern world furnishes us with a smorgasbord [4] of options to progressively climb imaginary ladders to nowhere. Think of the meta-progression in the typical video game, such as levelling up your Assassins Creed character with new skills, or progressive unlocks in Call Of Duty and online rankings. Think of your followers ratio on Instagram, or your retweets. Think of any virtual credibility.


Shadow careers provide the illusion you are progressing in your life goals while, simultaneously, your real life is going to shit. Thus it is an extended version of the Escape Loop: create a source of dopamine/seratonin/oxytocin to drown out the badfeelz of cortisol without actually removing the problem that is creating the cortisol.

You might as well buy a white van and drive around Eastern Europe opening mediocre birds [5]


I’m ruined!


What’s the solution? UM reckons you should replace escape loops with a productive activity. When you you feel the burn of cortisol, forgo the opportunity to engage in escapism and instead get something done.

Fuck all that. The most productive thing you can do is buy Daygame Overkill, a detailed in-field demonstration of how to pick up girls without harassing them and without shitting yourself because a few low-t soyboys do a Fake News show about daygame.

[1] As far as your monkey brain is concerned, anyway.
[2] If I was into this kind of mucky stuff, I’d have spent all of 2018/19 on Pornhub.
[3] In a book I haven’t read but mean to.
[4] Finally, I slipped that word into a blog post!
[5] Then take all your content offline in a panic.

Now long now, lads

September 26, 2019

Bing bang bosh! The next great milestone in the history of pick-up fast approaches: the release of volume seven of my interminable epic memoir: Last Man Banging [1]. I’m currently sitting at my laptop facing a first draft of the complete layout, a sixth draft cover, and with three industrious contract artists to oversee. Exciting times.

Last Man draft front cover

All the hard work is done. Now it’s a case of tweaking, error-checking, and polishing the final document. I think that’ll take another week. Then I’ll print myself a test copy and have a look through when I’m back home in October. So, my best estimate for release is mid-October.

And by then, I’ll have started on writing the final volume [2]

Interior LMB

[1] Formerly known as Little Brown Sex Machines.
[2] Volume 6, as yet untitled, covering the year immediately prior to Last Man Banging.

Dopamine Detox – First thoughts

September 23, 2019

Those of you who’ve been Krausermaniacs since the good old days stretching back to 2009-ish will remember how this blog began: as a chronicle of my uncertain journey into the crimson arts. Old-skool Krauser was not the debonair, opinionated, loudmouth you know and love today. Oh no he wasn’t! [1] The secret sauce of my blog was its relentless focus upon my learning game, its hyper-documentation of results (and, initially, lack thereof), and the soul-searchingly candid nature of my writing. I was thinking aloud, organising my mind, and trying to get good with girls.

I don’t write like that any more. I finished my Player’s Journey. To the extent I write about Game, it’s as memoirs and textbooks passing on my conclusions, with hindsight [2]

I’m now wondering whether it’s time to go back to my old style of blogging. Not about Game, of course. Life’s journey never really pauses for breath. There’s always something to be getting on with. I’ve always been a tenacious character, someone who doesn’t do things in half measures [3]. That tenacity hasn’t disappeared, I’ve simply turned it towards other ends. Specifically, finishing the memoir, reading books, and smashing the gym.

I haven’t much felt like writing about it and – with that being all I’ve done this past year or more – that means I haven’t much felt like blogging. Now, I’m thinking perhaps I need to humble myself again. Though I developed a rather high level of competence in daygame, I’m still amateurish and clumsy in the new challenges I’ve taken on. Perhaps I should use this blog as a journal to chronicle my new path, my new thoughts, and see how that goes. Kinda like the good old days.

Unlike my daygame writing, I won’t be pitching myself as any kind of authority on the new subject matter. I’m learning. Other people are teaching me things. I’m trying to clarify my thoughts. This is the sounding board as I do so.


Don’t DARE say that looks like me. Either of them!

So, what’s going on in Krauserworld right now? A dopamine detox, that’s what. Listen to this guy:


To summarise: the human brain rewards us with four pleasure chemicals. Dopamine is the cocaine, released in anticipation of getting what we desire. Seratonin is the chest-puffing pleasure of achievement, of moving up the dominance hierarchy. Oxytocin is the opium pipe, the warm fuzzy feeling of connection with and acceptance by others. Endorphins are the anaesthetic, the jab that numbs physical pain.

The problem with modern life is we are inundated with a super-stimulation of dopamine-triggering activities: Netflix, video games, social media, and the biggest and baddest of them all- chasing skirt internet porn. Your next dopamine fix is only ever an arm’s length away, in the form of your smartphone. Or a walk to the nice restaurant [4].

People don’t get bored anymore.

Our dopamine is limited. If you release it negligently on high-stimulation/low-value activities there won’t be any left to power you in low-stimulation/high-value activities. So, we must carefully manage it.

Regular readers will see why this thesis interests me. Chasing skirt is a non-stop roller-coaster ride of dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin, endorphins, and cortisol. Hardcore skirt-chasers become dopamine-addled lunatics. Girl Junkies.

Ultimate Man came from the No Fap movement, developing his ideas as he struggled to abstain from internet porn. I think if you substitute porn with skirt-chasing, his ideas become relevant [5]. His videos have been showing me an interesting theoretical basis for what I’d already concluded subconsciously: I need to lower my stimulation levels.

Early this year, I thought I could simply give up the Game and find myself a serious girlfriend. But, as the year wore on, I realised that- deep down- I didn’t actually want a girlfriend. My intellectual forebrain concluded getting a bird would be a wise move, but my emotional hindbrain didn’t actually want one. Why not? This puzzled me for months on end. Skirt would walk past me, I thought it wise to get a piece of that skirt, and yet I felt no desire to reach out and grab it.

Could it be Approach Anxiety? Hardly. My daygame record ranks me firmly within the world’s top 0.1% of men least likely to be crippled by approach anxiety. I actually did do sets this year- probably a few hundred- and did bang a few girls. But…… I didn’t really want to. The drive wasn’t there.


I trust my subconscious. Since early 2018 it has been telling me to give up on women and give up on the player lifestyle. Initially, I wasn’t especially receptive to that message, but it finally got through in mid-2018 and is gradually sinking in. Nowadays, I’m attempting to shake off every last vestige of my being a player. To my surprise, that stuff had settled much deeper into my being than I realised. It’s in my bones. Last year I cut most of my links with the Euro Jaunt community: no more jaunts, no notch-hunting, no talking about game, no WhatsApp +1 groups. I turned my focus to a strict diet, gym, and lots of reading. It was an informal dopamine detox, before I knew what one of them was.

Since encountering Universal Man two weeks ago, I’m giving his advice a try. I’m not totally sold on his concept, but I don’t need to be. I’m in the learning phase of this reorientation. I can afford to try things, cast around for ideas. So, no porn, no video games, no skirt, no Netflix, no sweets, and no booze [6].

I don’t expect to remain straight edge forever- it’s an experiment. Since pulling away from Game last year I’ve already noticed my attention span zoom upwards. I went from a man who could barely focus for ten minutes, to a man who thinks nothing of reading a book a day (this year, my rolling average is 1-book-in-2-days). It’s been three weeks since I played a video game. Two weeks since I watched porn (a month since watching one I hadn’t filmed myself). I can’t remember last time I binged a few episodes of a Netflix serial.

I’m more content than I expected.

Lenka Gabarova

None of this muck

Already, my brain feels different. Less angsty for stimulation. I remember a few years ago I was constantly yearning for something to do. Usually I’d find it by walking the streets. I’d already come to realise how sex-obsessed I’d been. Hormonally, ideologically. As a player, every year turned the dial a little further towards Sex Is Everything. I had built an entire ideological system to justify and encourage it.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I wanted to clack skirt- needed to- and it massively improved my life. Nonetheless, that lifestyle has side effects. They creep up on you slowly, like boiling a frog. Now I’m trying to throw out the bathwater without also throwing out the baby.

So, that’s one of the things I’ve been ruminating on lately.

If you think all that is gay bollocks and would much rather just shag birds, consider my textbook Daygame Mastery (available on Amazon) and my instructional video Daygame Overkill.

[1] Oh yes he was!
[2] There are still many active players who are writing Player’s Journey blogs, including a bunch of my friends who I can verify as legitimate voices. Many of them are linked here.
[3] Which, I’ll admit, can be a little wearing on my companions.
[4] Or, if you’re Irish, the pub.
[5] Assuming you actually catch some of the skirt, that is.
[6] Maybe the occasional rum on ice, but don’t tell anyone.

More of my prattle

September 23, 2019

Whassup my niggers!

I’m sure you’ve all been jonesing for another video of me running my mouth like a right fucking pompous ass. What, you haven’t? Well, tough titty because that’s what I’ve got for you today. Check this bastard out.

(it’s also on George Bruno’s channel here)

I dunno, sometimes I feel like I’m terribly eloquent. Or maybe The 21 Convention just brought out the better side in me. Thanks George for the interview, and to Anthony for hosting me at his event.

Also going down in Krauserworld is another review of my contribution to the English literary canon: Girl Junkie. Head on over to Hash Daygame’s site here for the full review. Thanks, pal!

If you think the blog is filled with sarcastic dark humour, wait till you read the book. You will experience a no holds bar Nick Krauser writing straight from the heart. Hilarious and outrageous.

If you think you’d rather like to read more of my prattle, all my books can be found on your local Amazon site by searching “Nick Krauser”.

Girl Junkie – Reader Review #3

August 29, 2019


We all want to be heard, don’t we?

It’s no fun being an insignificant, squeaky little voice. Being the kid at the back of the class who is told to shut his pie-hole [1]. It’s no fun gliding silently through life without recognition of achievement, only to die and be forgotten before the worms have eaten your eyeballs.

My seven volume cry for help memoir may yet cement my place in history as Kind Of A Big Deal, but until then I’ll take whatever scraps of recognition are thrown my way. Thanks most kindly to Magnum PUA for throwing this morsel from his tabletop of blogging excellence:

Nick Krauser – Girl Junkie book review

“Each volume has delivered on its promise: well told interesting stories that both entertain as well as deliver game tidbits and perspective by example.

With each volume I find myself underling certain ideas and passages to bring into my own game toolkit.

Girl Junkie continues with this streak and doesn’t disappoint.”

Thanks kind, sir. Awfully kind.

“With Girl Junkie what stands out to me as a long time Krauser reader is he has matured.

There is less preening. Even though Girl Junkie covers the most recent year of the five volumes, where Krauser’s game had continued to improve, in many ways he’s more humble in this book and from my read it seems to have a greater balances of both the frustrations and successes. We all learn more from our failures and this makes for a more human and interesting read.”

Ah! Brings a tear to an old man’s eye that quote does. I don’t want to be any bother, it’s just nice…. sniff sniff… to be remembered.

Daygamers with a taste for a good story and oodles of hidden tips will find themselves headed here for the paperback or here for the hardback. People in weird countries will do best to check their local Amazon website.

GJ spin

[1] So I’m told.

August Memoir Update – Volume 7

August 18, 2019

It’s been a busy period for little ol’ Krauser. Not properly busy the way you dickheads dear readers have it, what with real office jobs and proper friends and stuff. But, as a man who spends most of his time sitting on his fat increasingly toned ass, I can assure you that the past two months felt busy.

I coached three residentials. One guy got laid twice. Another got two notches on the same day! Now, don’t take that as a Residential Training Lay Guarantee but it’s nice to know the old Krauser Magic has its effect. I think we can all agree on that.

I did The 21 Convention, as noted in an earlier post. Look at this photo from it. Rather spiffing, no?

21CPoland_NickKrauser1 copy

I look so confident. So dominant. So…… attractive!

An unexpected but very welcome surprise in Warsaw was hooking up with a girl I’d first rattled back in 2015 when she was at the tender age of 19. She’s still a pretty young filly now and we spent a lot of time together while I was in town. I’m definitely getting soft in my old age because it was lovely [1]

But the book, Nick! Tell us about the book!

Okay, if you insist…..

By now you all know the plan, to publish the entirety of my seven volume memoir series by the end of 2019 before turning my back on The Game with a theatrical flourish. Volumes 1-5 are all done and on sale at Amazon. Number 6 is a blank page, with all the hard work still to do.

Volume 7, in contrast, is in good shape and currently on schedule. Just this evening I reached the 50% mark in my text edit/rewrite. To those unfamiliar with the process, it goes something like this:

1. Write the book. This is by far the longest and most difficult stage.
2. Edit the text. I start at the beginning and work through the manuscript, picking up errors, tweaking sentences, and adding new sections. Usually I’ll have feedback from a test reader and a hired editor to help me.
3. Organise contractors to create interior artwork and cover design. Collate photos to illustrate the book.
4. Organise contractor to lay out the text and integrate the artwork. This also includes checking for errors and tweaking for visual aesthetics.
5. Upload to publisher website, print and review test copy.

The 50% mark I hit is in stage two. Stages 3-5 are pretty easy as most of the work is done by others. What this means for you scallywags is that I should have my final text by the end of this month, and quite likely release the book at the end of September. That’ll leave me three whole months to crank out the final volume [2]

LBSM draft cover

It covers a lot more than just SEA, though

[1] I also deflowered a 19 yr old Ukrainian virgin, but let’s not boast. My notches are too few and far between for me to take any fun in that game nowadays.
[2] Which intimidates me a little as I’ve currently written no more than two pages of notes. And also, when that’s done I’ll no longer have a good excuse to write about myself.