Krauser PUA

First day at the gym

December 21, 2015
krauserpua

Little Scott turns up for school again, early one summer morning. He’s twelve years old and he likes the lessons. Only problem is every now and then one of the other boys bullies him. It’s not a persistent problem but every now and then he gets pushed around and occasionally punched on the back of the head and laughed at. It could be worse. The thing is, he’s sick of getting into disagreements with the other boys. Any time he speaks his mind, one of the tougher boys will start escalating it. He knows where that eventually leads – shoves, punches and kicks. So he just nips it in the bud early and avoids disagreement. It doesn’t feel right, bottling that up and letting people walk over him.

He sees boxing on TV. The local star has just won the British title and is being interviewed post fight. The champ says he got into boxing because he’d been bullied at school. Something clicks in Scott’s mind and he pesters his dad to let him try out at the local gym.

A week later Scott shows up with his shorts and t-shirt. He’s been freaking out about it all week, nervous about jumping into something so new and scary. Yet, immediately, he loves the atmosphere. There’s the incessant rattle of the speedball rapping against the board. A rhythmic swish and clatter as an amateur fighter whips the leather jump rope under his feet round after round. Even the smell of dried sweat and aging leather is good. Scott loves it.

The coach comes over, makes a bit of small talk to put the new boy at ease, then sends him to get changed. The kids class is about to start. The coach knows when a boy has come in due to bullying or a general sense of physical inadequacy. What’s new to Scott is just a hundreth time for the coach. Scott looks at him with a mix of hope and trust – this coach is an experienced guy who will show him the way to toughen up. Scott’s ready and willing to work as hard as he must.

The group starts the warm up, stretching off. A bit of jogging on the spot, then star jumps, press ups and squat thrusts. Scott is struggling with the latter, getting his feet mixed up and clipping his heels. The coach walks over and has a look, but doesn’t offer any technical advice. He’ll figure it out for himself.

“Keep it up, Scott.” he encourages.

Ten minutes later they are all in front of the mirrors, shadow boxing. Some of the other kids are bobbing and weaving in a rough approximation of the older more experienced boys. Scott is ill-coordinated and doesn’t really know how to stand. Most of the boys have their left foot forward but a few have their right foot out instead. What’s that about?

“Don’t worry about it” says the coach. “Just stand however feels best”

So Scott awkwardly pushes his hands out in front in something looking a bit like a punch and tries bobbing his head. It’s a bit tough. He falls off balance a few times. He tries left foot forward, right foot forward and also standing square-on.

Another ten minutes pass and now the boys have all pulled a pair of boxing gloves out of the communal box and are each standing in front of a punch bag. The round bell rings and Scott starts cuffing his a bit, then looking around at the other boys. One of the older lads, a competitive fighter, is punching away on the top-bottom bag, swaying left and right to dodge as it springs back at him after every punch. Scott turns back to his heavy bag and tries that. It doesn’t move much – it’s not the same bag, after all.

“Nice one Scott” says the coach and pats him on the shoulder. “Keep it up”

Twenty minutes later the coach is pulling a couple of boys out of training and sending them into the ring to spar.

“Scott” shouts the coach. “Let’s see how you look in the ring. Do you fancy a go?”

“Um, ok” Scott nervously replies.

He steps through the ropes and sees his opponent across the ring, a boy of similar size but who has obviously been training a lot longer. Scott had noticed him hitting the bag with fluid hard punches, sending it flying backwards with a meaty thwack. He’s a bit nervous.

“What should I do?” Scott asks.

The coach smiles, pats him on the shoulder again with a kind gesture.

“Don’t worry about technique. Just go be your self. Be natural.”

Ten minutes later, Scott wakes up on the table in the dressing room with a bloody nose and mild headache.

“I guess I’m not cut out for boxing” he concludes. “I’ll just put up with the shit at school.”

Five Forces Analysis of Dating Market

December 20, 2015
krauserpua

Time for some mindwank.

Back when I was receiving my professional education in business Michael Porter was all the rage on the MBA circuit for his Five Forces analysis. This was a simple tool to map out the competitive pressure in your industry so you can play to your strengths and limit weaknesses. It’s also useful before enterting an industry to decide if it’s worth the effort. Some industries are more lucrative than others.

For example, as I may outline in a subsequent post, I simply wouldn’t recommend entering the “blogging to monetize” or “YouTube to monetize” industries unless you’re exceptionally talented and are willing to keep it up even if the money never comes.

Five Forces Analysis assumes that there are five important forces that determine competitive power in a business situation. These are:

Supplier Power: Here you assess how easy it is for suppliers to drive up prices. This is driven by the number of suppliers of each key input, the uniqueness of their product or service, their strength and control over you, the cost of switching from one to another, and so on. The fewer the supplier choices you have, and the more you need suppliers’ help, the more powerful your suppliers are.

Buyer Power: Here you ask yourself how easy it is for buyers to drive prices down. Again, this is driven by the number of buyers, the importance of each individual buyer to your business, the cost to them of switching from your products and services to those of someone else, and so on. If you deal with few, powerful buyers, then they are often able to dictate terms to you.

Competitive Rivalry: What is important here is the number and capability of your competitors. If you have many competitors, and they offer equally attractive products and services, then you’ll most likely have little power in the situation, because suppliers and buyers will go elsewhere if they don’t get a good deal from you. On the other hand, if no-one else can do what you do, then you can often have tremendous strength.

Threat of Substitution: This is affected by the ability of your customers to find a different way of doing what you do – for example, if you supply a unique software product that automates an important process, people may substitute by doing the process manually or by outsourcing it. If substitution is easy and substitution is viable, then this weakens your power.

Threat of New Entry: Power is also affected by the ability of people to enter your market. If it costs little in time or money to enter your market and compete effectively, if there are few economies of scale in place, or if you have little protection for your key technologies, then new competitors can quickly enter your market and weaken your position. If you have strong and durable barriers to entry, then you can preserve a favorable position and take fair advantage of it.

Seeing as we constantly refer to dating as a Sexual Market Place, let’s first apply the model to a man entering “the game”. Don’t take any of this too seriously, BTW.

Porter Five Forces Men 1

Supplier Power is what drives up the cost / time / effort of producing your product. Since the product in the SMP is you, this means how much control do the inputs of self-improvement have upon you. I’ve focused on the Game strategy – if you’re going to play some variant of LMS then the supplier inputs are different. Mostly, it comes down to how much you want it (Motivation) and that ebbs and flows, can run down to zero, and you’ve only got so much of it depending on your temperament. Likewise different people will have different talents for the Game. Lucky men are unhindered by work, health, financial or familial liabilities and thus have the freedom to take their chances. Eddie was recently telling me of a Canadian guy who managed to separate himself from his Wall-Smashing LTR and then packed up and moved to Poland. A big move like that relies upon freedom.

Buyer Power is what the girls bring to the table to bargain with you. Men really need sex but women do too, and they hate to be alone, so that’s a wash. The size of a female buyer’s metaphorical wallet is her youth, beauty and bloom. The more of that they have, the better service they can demand of the men. The more such qualified customers around (i.e. a city full of YHT) the less any one of them can dictate terms to you. The one slim girl in an Alaskan oil refinery has far greater buyer power than the one of many slim girls in a Moscow nightclub.

Competitive Rivalry is every other dude trying to get laid. We players aren’t running the only hustle. Female buyers will also window shop the Good Looking Guys, the Sponsors, the Celebrities, and the Lifestyle In guys. Different cities and different types of guy will have a different mix of relevant rivalries. For example, London is full of all such hustlers and has a sizeable crop of girls who will accept weak game if the rest of the hustle is good (e.g. the Instagram porta-potties are the extreme outlier of this girl). If you’re wandering through the university in Poznan you’ll get a different mix – not many Sponsors amongst male students.

Substitutes are things girls can do to sublimate their sexual desires without having to involve a heterosexual man. There is a wave of smartphone addiction tumbling ominously East out of the US which forces the players to focus on providing high-quality attention as a USP smartphones can’t match (them being vehicles to accumulate masses of low-quality attention, aka. The Chodestream). Girls can sublimate their temporary horniness via porn and sex toys or their long-term affection needs through cat ownership. If they are really fat and ugly they can tumble into degenerate subcultures like feminism and professional careers to blunt the pain.

New Entrants are guys previously out of the game who suddenly show up. That can be literally new entrants i.e. immigrants. I don’t know a lot about Rape Game but that’s a hustle muslims seem to be working hard on. LIkewise decaying social values lead to mudsharking and thus ethnics being allowed onto the battlefield (which is great for you if you’re one of them). An increasing societal awareness of game and the mainstreaming of the manosphere has expanded the outreach and acceptance of the player lifestyle and thus there’s an ever-refreshing crop of men trying out their first cold approaches. Lastly, there’s a million new coffee drinkers born every day. Just as society churns out a new crop of 18 year olds every single year, it also churns out a new crop of men to chase them.

London Daygame Buffoons #1 – Johnny Cassell

December 19, 2015
krauserpua

Time for some comic relief.

While there are many guys in London doing daygame, that does not make them London Daygamers in the sense that we are. In a seedy industry that has no barriers to entry, turning over rocks can find some very strange creepy crawlies hustling a living. Usually there’s a blurring between the lines of Self Development Guru and the hard-case noobs they work with. Often I can’t tell which is which.

Most of us are familiar with the hyper-documented train wreck that is Johnny Berba’s ~~dating life~~ aimless wander around London streets. But did you know there’s another Johnny who is even worse? I introduce you to Johnny Cassell!

That video is something of a soft target as he follows the standard “hire bored models and then read awkwardly from slides” blueprint that charlatan PUAs have been doing for years. It’s such a transparent piece of fronting that the only specific instance I’ll bother highlighting is this:

Focus on the girls faces as they become increasingly unable to hide their disgust.

It seems mean to mock bottom-feeders. “Hey, they are just trying to get by and make a few quid helping men” you may say. Well, watch the next video. This is just shameless misrepresentation. He knows he’s peddling a lie. If he was just an honest nincompoop I’d have let it slide.

0:00 – He’s a dating expert for the elite, remember. So this is top-drawer game you’re gonna see.
0:09 – DHV. “I was in Riga.” Watch for more awkward attempts at qualifying himself.
0:18 – “… they need to catch up on their infrastructure” is a good go-to line if you feel the hook dropping and need a quick spike.
0:30 – She’s all um, ok, yeah. Highly invested.
0:33 – That’s the second “It’s crazy”
0:40 – He’ll eventually find the right James Bond posture, after trying a few dozen variations.
0:44 – Count all the rapport laughter.
1:05 – This is the best part of the set. No fidgeting, smirk, letting her talk.
1:16 – “I have to go to a meeting” is presumeably a DHV / false time constraint. Way too early.
1:19 – This false choice is a weaselly attempt to avoid hearing “no”
1:27 – She doesn’t get that he’s trying to take her number. He hasn’t shown any intent nor moved her through the requisite stages, so it comes off so uncalibrated she doesn’t even recognise it.
1:31 – This occasionally works, but rarely, and not here. She has no reason to come on an idate after such weak preamble so she’s only likely to walk a few yards until she figures out a way to sneak off without confrontation.
1:36 – This is a flat-out lie, as you’ll see. Which is the main reason I decided to write this post.
1:44 – Note they are now just on the other side of the arch and the conversation / vibe is no different. Obvious conclusion: there was no instant date.
1:47 – This sounds like emotional blackmail. Basically, “take pity on me”
2:00 – I imagine the main thought in her mind is “WTF is this?”
2:03 – Do you think she’d have waited until after an instant date to ask his name?
2:24 – She does seem to like the attention.
2:28 – Never ask a girl’s surname on the street when taking a number. So, this is probably a Facebook brush-off.
2:51 – Another uncalibrated lunge – physical this time – without any set up
2:56 – “Have a good day” and no indication of wishing to meet.
3:05 – Apologetic laugh on opening. Don’t ever do this.
3:15 – He’s DLVing himself implying he’s usually lacking confidence.
3:18 – Rapport laughing shows her you feel lucky just being there.
3:23 – You don’t need false time constraints on a street stop. The whole point of them in Mystery Method is to put girls at ease during an ambush. That dynamic doesn’t apply on a moving street stop.
3:27 – “What’s the story, quickly, don’t tell me too much.” That’s something Mystery might say four minutes into a set when he’s already got the girl interested. It’s madness to do such a hard qualifier on a girl that hasn’t even hooked properly. Additionally, it’s putting the responsibility for stacking onto her, which is unfair.
3:40 – Anybody else creeped out by that line?
3:58 – He’s preventing any attempt at rapport being built. Madness.
4:09 – “How do we go about it?” So another attempt to shift the burden of leading onto her. Other than the stop, he’s expecting her to lead the seduction without giving her any incentive to do so.
4:20 – This is a simple “no”.
4:23 – And this is begging
4:55 – You should only argue the toss when the interaction has been good and you know she likes you. When the whole thing has been flat, she’s been looking away to IOD you the whole time…. just let her go!
5:00 – More of the creepy emotional blackmail
5:22 – “an email address or something” and volunteering for friendzone is about as needy as it gets.
6:29 – “heheh, it’s ridiculous” WTF?
6:39 – A mini-assumption stack. First bit of daygame for several minutes. Note how it got her talking.
6:56 – Doesn’t qualify her on why he picked that girl, and then jumps to date invite without any preamble. So this set is basically “Hello. Do you like how I look? Let’s get a drink. Bye.” That’s as extreme as filtering gets. Zero attraction, vibing or investment.
7:01 – Jesus, that’s a bit strong. I thought he was gonna slap her. “Bitch! Don’t tell me about yourself!”
7:16 – When a girl asks for your number instead of giving hers, it’s 99% flake.
7:18 – This is a genuinely funny comeback, but then rapport laughter spoils it.
7:40 – That’s 3/3 asking surnames. Creepy.
7:55 – Okay, so now he’s qualified her. In a very strange way.

Johnny Cassell

The TL:DR is simple – Tall, good-looking white guy creates good first impression then progressively destroys it with horrendous uncalibrated nonsensical game.

Conclusion: Buffoon.

I bang my first 26 year old Ukranian shop girl

December 17, 2015
krauserpua

Girls like to put up defences and reward the man sufficiently determined and strong to smash them into rubble. It’s a game and they know full well what’s going on. I’ve had girls resist like hellcats and then thank me afterwards. Bitches be crazy.

Here’s the great man Dennis Wheatley on the Russian mind:

Back then, “red pill” was called “wisdom”

Now that I’d kissed her, this girl was revved up. She sent me a few goodnight messages intimating that she was hot and horny now. I knew I’d fuck her, the question was just whether it would be this trip or if I’d have to wait till next spring. Hardly ideal, but it’s very little effort to keep pinging a girl on WhatsApp when she’s playing along.

After a comfortable back and forth, time-pressure forced me to put her on the spot and I tell her its my last night in town. She wants to meet but things get a bit clusterfucked as you’ll see. There’s no way I was going into her frame to join her friends. Reading between the lines I don’t think she was trying to tool me or frame-snatch, it was simply a tight schedule and a big step for her. I hold my ground.

Kiev bird 1

While this 9pm chat was progressing I was sitting in Divan bar having a “last night of trip” beer with my travel buddy. We were starving. I ordered some dumplings and soup and – no joking – I was genuinely torn between dating this girl and waiting for my food. It didn’t feel like a dead-cert lay and I was just tired of Kiev and tired of girls. As far as I was concerned, 2015 was done. My mind was consumed by thoughts of Fallout 4 and Metal Gear Solid V.

This zero-fucks-given attitude is both a blessing and a curse. On the downside it leads me to let all but my most compliant leads wither and die, and thus depresses my lay count. On the upside, I don’t want to be a man who begs for pussy so it’s nice to have strong boundaries. As I was sitting in Divan sipping beer, it felt 50/50 that she’d come out and 50/50 if I’d agree to meet her.

Kiev bird 2

A player must always be ready to switch up his gameplan. Girls will give off a vibe and you can learn the difference between “not tonight” and “take your chance, big boy”. When I met this girl outside Divan all of the alarms were buzzing. Take her home! Pull the trigger!

Something in the context of the previous date and messages.
Something in the way she folded and ditched her friends.
Something about meeting at 10pm without an agreed date plan.
Something in her lazy walk and heavy-lidded eyes.
Something in her falling in step beside me and not even asking where we were going.

“Do you like wine?” I asked as we turned the first corner and walked in front of a supermarket.
“Yes, I’d like wine” she says.

I had a bottle of red at home but it was corked. There was no corkscrew.

So I was going to buy a twist-capped bottle and walk her home. The only problem is everywhere was closed. The big supermarket was locked up so I walk her five minutes up to the McDonalds which has a 24/7 store…. which is closed for next thirty minutes while they cash up. The only other off licence I know is outside my apartment and already closed at 10pm.

Fuck.

Decision time. Do I suggest a drink in a bar and risk losing momentum? No. Her vibe is screaming “take me home now”. She doesn’t say so, as her style from the moment I met her was always about me leading her and choosing my moments of escalation wisely. Okay, it was an easy decision.

“I’ve got a bottle of red in my apartment.”

I’ll solve the corkscrew problem somehow, I thought. She came in, I put on some music, and she opened the wine by sticking a spoon in the cork and hammering it down into the bottle. Great. Ten minutes of tension and I make the move.

It was a smooth, easy escalation. No LMR. I had her shirt off while we sat on the sofa, then when she straddled me I picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. Smash, bang.

It was fantastic sex. She’s a gym junkie so her body is tight and hard. She grabbed me with unexpected strength, clawing and biting me. It felt like wrestling John Cena. I smashed her thoroughly, like a refugee neighbour’s windows. Then after showering she fell asleep with her head on my chest.

This girl is a lesson in greyhoundology. They are frequently like this:

poised and in control of themselves
auditioning you in your totality as a man, rather than just r-selection
expect a controlled and skilled seduction
usually want The Rub
Once you get them to the “okay, he can fuck me” stage, they completely surrender and you wonder how they ever seemed so difficult.

It was a fitting finale to my 2015 Euro season. Smoking hot, smart, and totally into me. I plan to keep her around.

The smell of victory

I might bang my first 26yr-old Ukranian shop girl – Part Two

December 5, 2015
krauserpua

An intermediate player spends a lot of his time learning how to blow the love-bubble and prevent it bursting. From the moment you stop a girl on the street you have to induce her to talk to you, to enjoy it, and to let you lead her forwards. That’s a real skill if she hasn’t already decided to fuck you – which for us normal men means 95%+ of girls (and all the hotter ones). If you take her on an idate the bubble stays blown ever longer but there’ll come a point where you have to either pull her home, or take a number. Assuming the latter, the bubble bursts and she’s going to wake up tomorrow morning to her normal life. The subsequent texting (or lack of it) will clue you in to what she really wants. If she responds well you’ve got a Day 2 coming up and the bubble gets re-blown.

You can only fuck the girl when she’s in the bubble.

That’s why I say the first message after the bubble bursts is the most important one. How does she respond to your feeler text after the street stop? How does she respond to your ping the day after the idate/Day 2? That’s the single best piece of data to gauge her interest. The medium is the message. Good signs are:

Fast reply (either by clock-time, or by a busy girl responding soon after her first available break)
Long reply
Smiley faces
Unsolicited information
Playing along to your conversation thread

So with that in mind what do you think of this girl’s next day post-burst response?

You can open this bigger on a new tab

I call it a good one. She remained a Suspicious On but she’s closer to Yes after the first date than she was before it. She’s had a good look at me and is willing to stick around for another dance. My gut was telling me not to rush it and not be too available because for all the positive signs, she’d rejected the kiss attempt. I’d do better to just patiently keep things going, drop in a little value but avoid banter and studiously avoid asking her out again for a few days. This would recover some frame and show I’m not entirely sold. Make her chase a little, or at least wonder why I’m not chasing harder. She needs to know she’s got to get her steps right too, it’s not all one-way traffic. *

It’s not until four days later that I invite her out. It didn’t take any willpower on my part to hold out because I was enjoying my street game and had other leads which looked brighter than her. She rebuffed that invite and I didn’t ask again so you can see she’s keeping the momentum alive and doesn’t want me to drop off the hook. When I don’t ask a second time she starts chasing. I start to feel like I’m reeling her in.

Kiev bird post pre day 3

Any time she’s chasing, let her come. Don’t snatch the reins and start leading. You’ll see I just hold my ground – polite, keeping it alive, but not trying to move forwards. You never get this luxury on a short trip but I had time and alternate leads. When I don’t message her at all the next day she tries to rebuild the ant mound and invites me out with a specific time later that day.

She was still hard work.

Kiev bird post day 3

We had a drink in a bar and she retained her usual self-possession. Nonetheless my thinking was “she knows what I want and she came out again, so escalate” and I started walking her to an Irish bar that has darker, more secluded booths. She wasn’t having it. “I don’t want to go there” she said, but actually provided a reasonable specific rationale for why that particular pub was not suitable for her so I let it slide. She suggested some other place a couple of streets away and walked me there.

Oh dear, another frame-snatch.

That pub turned out to be a brightly-lit Italian restaurant and she wanted to eat. As has happened consistently this year, at the first silly buggers gambit I just lost all interest in her. I literally couldn’t be bothered to talk to her anymore and was fighting the urge to walk out without ordering. She said she’s hungry and ordered pizza. I ordered a beer and told myself “give her ten minutes to redeem herself, or leave”. It took mental discipline for me to stay on the date. **

She couldn’t help but notice my change of mood and started to get worried. I barely looked at her, refused a slice of her pizza, didn’t order a second beer, and mostly just gave short non-commital answers. It wasn’t a ploy – I really lost interest in her but couldn’t quite decide to leave. Halfway through her food she’d been trying hard to rebuild the mood so I softened and started talking again. With the benefit of hindsight this had been an effective push.

I told her I wanted to go to a proper bar and as we walked on to a basement hipster-twat joint *** my mood suddenly picked up. I became more talkative and the vibe was good again. We sat down in a booth, her across from me and I decided there’d be no more bullshit. She’d reached the end of the line and things would have to get overt. Slavic girls are extremely good at playing the grey area to waste your time. You’ll often have to break the vibe and get overt. Find out where you’re really at. I told her to sit next to me. She resisted then came, leaving a six inch gap between us. I moved her bag out of the way and pulled her in.

Her – “What are you doing?”
Me – “I want you to sit closer.”
Her – “Why?”
Me – “So I can touch you.”
Her – “I don’t want you to touch me.”
Me – “Why not?”
Her – *silence*

Intellectually, I had her pegged as a timewaster but my gut told me it was probably a case of The Rub. She’s a strong-minded greyhound, very pretty, and at 26 years old she’s past the stage of being whisked up on a wave of momentum. So, I gave her The Talk. Daygame Mastery has the explanation, and I phrased it something like this:

“I like you and you know what I want. Now you have to decide what you want. If you decide you just like me as a friend, that’s okay but I will walk out. I won’t be angry, but I don’t have female friends and I don’t want to be your friend. If you are sexually attracted to me and want to be more than friends, that’s great. That’s what I want too.”

She turned and said “I just like meeting you, and practicing English. We’re just friends.”

I looked her dead in the eye and said “Think very carefully before you answer……. Is that what you really want?”

She clammed up and looked into space, thinking furiously. She knew she’d run out of road and it was put-up-or-shut-up time. Obviously she was sexually attracted to me, it wasn’t a friendzone issue. This was purely about her script vs my script. She wanted me to go at her pace and jump through her hoops. I’d just told her I’d jumped through enough hoops and now it was time for her to jump through mine. Would her pride allow it? Did she like me enough to tear up her script, or at least hastily rewrite it to bring the happy ending forwards?

About five minutes passed, while I just sipped beer and watched the wall-mounted TV which played Cheburashka (that’s not embellishment, it really was that show). Then she piped up.

The rejected kiss-close face

“Nick, I do like you as a man.”
“Okay, kiss me” I said and pulled her in. She resisted and I went stone cold again.
“Not here” she said. Admittedly, it was a crowded bar.
“I will kiss you tonight” I said.
“Yes, okay. Just not here.”

I knew I didn’t have the patience to sit through another hour in the bar and it was getting late so I drank up and told her I’d walk her to the bus stop. She was quite timid and quiet now. As we walked up the main street we passed what my travel buddies had termed the “Ghostbusters building” so I pointed to the staircase leading up to it.

“I’m going to kiss you there” I said and started walking her there. She followed. At the top of the stairs I pulled her in and kissed her. She went floppy for a second and then jumped me. It was like a damn bursting and she was very much into it.

Okay, so it was The Rub all along.

I was alert for any sign that she was ready to be dragged home, but she never let her crotch push into mine and never quite gave the telltale sighs, squeezes and grinds that signal “take me home now”. So I walked her up to the bus stop, gave a soft kiss goodnight and let her go.

How she felt when I kissed her

* Men who can only ever fuck girls through Fools Mate are probably scratching their heads thinking “Dude, what?”

** Men with 100+ notches are probably nodding their heads at this part of the story. With the benefit of hindsight she was more “on” than I realised, she just wanted to keep the frame.

*** Divan

How to be masculine (sigma edition)

December 2, 2015
krauserpua

First a qualifier: this piece is only applicable to men who are or wish to be sigma. If you’re a wannabe alpha, this is the wrong place. If you’re already alpha, I don’t believe you.

I have one overriding goal in life: to increase and protect my medium-term happiness. What does that mean? Happiness is the goal and everything else is contingent upon advancing it. Some people will put other objectives first:

be rich
be popular
fuck hot women

I don’t.

At best those are second-order objectives because you think they’ll make you happy. At worst, they aren’t even that. Becoming rich traps you and directly limits your power (that sounds paradoxical until you begin to understand true power lies not in controlling others but in being able to do whatever you want to do). Can Prince William go icognito to Budapest and fuck some hot chicks in a whorehouse? No, but you can. Can Bill Gates argue with someone in a bar and punch him in the face for getting lippy? no, but you can. Can Cristiano Ronaldo go for a quiet walk through a Madrid park? No, but you can. The greatest personal freedom is found in not being too well-known.

Yes we can

Often, what riches, popularity and hotties give you with one hand they take away with another. There were some experiments on chimps in which they were rewarded with food if they collected special tokens. Soon researchers could motivate the chimps to perform tasks just for tokens – because the chimps had learned tokens could be exchanged for food. Before long, there was a secondary market amongst chimps doing favours for each other for tokens. Kind of like EBT cards now.

But what happens when the experimentors stopped redeeming tokens for food? Chaos.

Chasing riches, popularity, hotties (or whatever else is a second-order objective) should never be the objective. Always keep your eye on the real food – happiness – and be prepared to switch up on those second-order objectives if they take you away from the goal. I choose medium-term happiness because short-term hedonism is extremely destructive and long-term happiness is a mirage which won’t be there when you are finally ready to claim it.

So given this one overriding goal, how do I achieve it?

The devil is in the details and will differ for each man but here is a little wisdom which will apply to every man. Two meta-level goals that will almost inevitably put you closer to the main goal: Increase your control of your time. Increase your personal freedom. If you can do that, you can act upon the opportunities for happiness that come up and there are no accumulated liabilities holding you back. This is the essence of sigma masculinity. With this in mind, here’s a cheat sheet for mindset shifts that will steer you ever closer to increased control of your time and freedom.

1. Never surrender your right to decide
You can never ever delegate your responsibility for your own decisions. No matter who pressures you into a decision, no matter what their prestige or power, you must always make up your own mind. Circumstances may force you to act out of alignment (e.g. corporate work) but keep your thoughts your own. If you find yourself waiting for a blogpost by your favourite writer before developing an opinion on a subject, you aren’t being prudent. You’re being a woman.

It’s okay to defer to a superior authority’s expertise but not to defer to their interests. So for example if you’re in a gym and a superior fighter gives you some technical advice on your right hook, you should probably take it. He still has to convince you, but you’re amenable to the advise. In contrast, if he wants to push you off the heavy bag so he can queue jump it, tell him to fuck off. Nobody – not Putin, not Jesus, not anybody – has the right to co-opt your mind and your interests.

2. Don’t be a fan or a follower
If you desribe yourself as this, you’ve already broken rule #1. A fan is someone who sucks another man’s dick. A follower is someone who carries another man’s baggage. There are men in the world you will naturally respect and admire and this is a great thing. There are heroes in this world. You can be inspired by and taught by such men. I highly recommend it. But heroes are not looking for men to suck their dick.

Follow them? No, don’t be such a faggot. Women and children follow.

3. Don’t lead
I respect the hell out of Donald Trump, the man is a natural leader. That’s great and he’s alpha. Thing is, I’m not alpha and don’t wish to be. Alphas are permanently tied up in alliances, conflicts and status-jockeying. While that energies them, it flatly contradicts a sigma male’s control of his time and freedom. Trump has access to many great things that I don’t, but those things don’t matter to me half as much as my time and my freedom.

A good leader becomes responsile for his followers. That’s restrictive and undermines medium-term happiness.

Let him lead. You have hotties to fuck

4. Never give a shit about the opinion of anyone you don’t respect
I almost wrote this without adding “you don’t respect” but that would’ve been a little too isolating, and isolation leads to hubris. Respected peers can give you encouragement in your darker times and bring you down a peg during your more hubristic times. Value that but be very careful who you allow to advise you. Would you seek investment advice from a hobo? Relationship advice from a hen-pecked cuck? Fitness advice from a slob? Seduction advice from a chode?

The world is brimming with unsolicited opinoins from morons whose only goal is to chip away at you in order to make themselves feel good about messing with your frame. Anyone who has started a blog or high-profile Twitter account knows all about them. Ignore them. You have no duty to listen to, or even acknowledge, the opinions of any person on this earth.

5. Being respected is more important than being liked.
Stop trying to be liked. It’s extremely feminised behaviour. Women care what other people think about them because they are hard-wired to fear outgrouping. Men are their own powerplant. We bring the value to the group and if we don’t like the group we’ll take it elsewhere. When you’re the value, you don’t fear outgrouping. The group fears you leaving it.

People won’t trust you anyway. There’s something fluid, icky and distasteful about dealing with a man who moderates his own opinions in order to win popularity. Stand up for what you believe, polarise, and the let the chips fall where they may. You’ll have everybody’s respect, even if it’s grudging and hostile. From there, the men who deserve your friendship will make themselves known to you.

Short-term happiness personified

6. Better the respect of a small group of worthy peers than the adulation of a million morons
I used to call this the “Robbie Williams effect”. The former boy-band member can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t play an instrument, can’t write a song and yet for two years he was the most feted performer in the UK. At one point he performaced in front of 40,000 morons at a RobbieFest live event. Shortly afterwards he was in drug rehab.

The reasons are complex but a big part of it is the Imposter Effect. The adulation of no-nothing idiots is worse than worthless – it’s harmful. It’s the reverse of the supposed “wisdom of crowds”. If so many morons have so unswervingly come to like you, then you must be they kind of person morons like. That’s more damning to your psych than fucking thirty fat girls in a row. If you must solicit respect from others, make sure it’s people whose respect is worth having and that it’s based on living your values.

7. Popularity is weakness
I’ve known men who are so good-looking that they are constantly checked out by girls in bars or on the street. It’s a favourable position to be in if you can handle it. How could you fail to handle such an obviously favourable situation, you ask?

When you swim in unsolicited positive affirmations you become accustomed to them, and soon dependent upon them. Rather than looking inward for reasons to feel good, you become externally referenced. Feeling good is no longer within your control but is dependent upon a never-ending supply of positive affirmations. That will cause your internal referencing to wither and die. You should be as happy sitting under a tree alone at the beach as you are performing on a stage in front of a thousand fans. The exhilaration and emotional involvement will obviously differ, but your base level of self-worth should not.

We’ve all seen the spectacle of old boxers who can’t give up the sport, of singers touring long after their voice cracked, of formerly good-looking guys still hanging round bars trying to draw IOIs. It’s undignified. Don’t seek popularity. If it comes, keep it in perspective.

8. Never follow the flavour of the month
There will always be a new cause celebre, a new star, or a new fad. Always, without exception, and like the Wehrmacht trundling East it’ll always seem like it’ll last forever. There’s a word for people who follow trends: women.

Following a trend means unmooring your boat and letting the current dictate where you go. When that current expires the next current picks you up. There’s a word for people who allow themselves to be swept off their feet: women.

A man is in control of his own destiny. He doesn’t surrender it to fashion. Some of you may decide it’s smart to hop in front of a bandwagon and try to direct the crowd – whether it be Sarah Palin co-opting the Tea Party, or one of the many manosphere attempts to latch onto popular movements. This may be smart, but it’s effeminate. If you’re pushing the bandwagon, you’re effeminate without having the consolation of being smart.

Always be on the look-out for better-positioned men looking to co-opt your money and time into building their own empires. It’s like going to a rock concert – all that your money and adulation does is elevate the rock star to a position where he can fuck your girlfriend backstage. Don’t be cucked.

10. Always be ready to walk
No matter who you are talking to, how long you’ve known them, and what rewards they can bestow upon you….. be ready to walk away if they start tooling you. Your happiness is internally-referenced and you control your time and freedom. Nothing they might give you can ever outrank that, and they might well start chipping away at those things you desire most. Don’t even bother fighting to try to “beat them” – that also cuts into your time and freedom. Lock them out and never think of them again.

Sigma, yesterday

Paradoxically, if you live your life by the above-mentioned principles you probably will be more respected, more popular, richer, and fuck more hotties. That shouldn’t be the goal.

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Somebody has to fuck them

November 29, 2015
krauserpua

Fat girls are like lamposts to me. I don’t notice them unless I happen to walk into one by accident. They are just part of the furniture. The same goes with women over thirty – I just don’t really see them. They are like blurry silhouettes walking past me. It was only a few days ago that I learned Post-Wall women actually have personalities, hopes, dreams and all that kind of stuff.

Bloody hell! Really?

Furniture. Quite a nice rack.

So presumeably fatties, uglies and oldies have a sex drive too. Hmmmmm. I wonder what they do to satisfy that drive. Obviously it’s not getting satisfied through me. I’d always wondered if fat people find each other attractive, or if sex for them is like us looking at a undercooked 99p Morrisons pizza and deciding “I’m so hungry and I have to eat something.” So I turned to the internet and tried to calculate how many unattractive women are out there getting fucked.

Step 1 – Demographics
These statistics break up the European Union population into age cohorts. Now, these stats aren’t perfect because the age buckets are less than ideal (17-25 and 25-54 is the important split) but we can use it as a rough proxy. Realistically, girls can still be reasonably hot up to 30 years old and except for a couple of indiscretions I think 17 is a bit young for me. Also, presumeably these stats don’t include illegal immigrants but again that’s not relevant because we’ll have hopefully murdered them all soon, removing them from the sampled population.

So, there are 11% of women who are young enough to bother with and old enough to be legal. There are an additional 42% who are young enough to be sexually active but too old to bother with.

Step 2 – Wild Assumptions
Let’s pull a number out of my arse for how many of that 11% group are hot or at least pretty. We’ll make the cut-off a 7/10 because 6s always have an element of shame. Based on my own eyes I’d say about 15% of English 17-25 year olds are fuckable without shame, rising to 25% on the Western half of the continent and then 40% when you go east. I’m not saying “hot”, just good enough that you don’t have a meltdown every time a sex flashback hits you.

So, using my magically statistical skills I’m gonna say 33% of women in Europe aged 17-25 are worth fucking for sport. Apply that to the 11% and we have 3.63% of the total female population are officially Younger-Hotter-Tighter. Let’s be generous and round it up to 4%

european-union-population-pyramid-2014

Step 3 – The Chilling Truth
The inverse conclusion is that 96% of the women having sex in the European Union are not above the “shame” level. There are varying degrees of shame between a plain-looking 19yr old butterface all the way down to a green-haired landwhale eating her 36th birthday cake, or the basement level of a 53yr old ex-hippy using Guardian Soulmates to temporarily dampen the cries of her barren womb. But only 4% of the sexually active population is YHT.

Let’s apply that to the next time you hear a lurid sex story from a friend or on the internet when no evidence is offered about the quality of the girl. What’s the likelihood she’s one of the 4%?

Step 4 – The Preening Joy
You really don’t need to be feeling jealous that everyone is getting laid better than you – statistically, they aren’t. If you compare yourselves to the top players (whether Game-trained or non-community) then of course you’re going to get a feeling of relative poverty. Take solace in the fact that even if you’re only knobbing a couple of 7s a year, you are outperforming probably 96% of men.

Not 96% of young, game-aware men. But the world is full of dweeby, boring chodes servicing unattractive women.

I don’t bang my first 26yr-old Ukranian shop girl – Part One

November 28, 2015
krauserpua

As noted in the earlier post, I was in the enviable and entirely unexpected position of being able to feed entirely on Kiev girls who IOI’d me or who otherwise triggered my spider-sense of being susceptible to my approach. It made daygame so easy that it felt like shooting fish in a barrel and once more I decided that good-looking guys have no business at all trying to talk about approach anxiety. They don’t understand how incredibly easy they have it when girls are visibly checking them out.

Every open I did I felt bulletproof from the first moment.

After four days of picking warm targets I actually completely lost interest in pure cold approach. I told my wing, “I’m not gonna approach blind. I might as well use this novel situation as an opportunity to practice warm approach game. Finally I’ve got enough sets to be able to collect real data and try different things.” When I did contemplate a blind open (i.e. the girl gave no indication whatsoever that she’s be amenable to stopping) I was reminded of the need for a bit of character strength and thought “fuck that, why bother?”

I can understand why good-looking guys weasel out of genuine cold approach and settle for a -2 point hypergamy deficit. When you’re used to sliding downhill into pussy, climbing mountains becomes pretty unappealing. I wasn’t happy about taking the easy route. Not that I want game to be tough but I felt like I was underselling myself by going after what was easy rather than what I wanted. A hot well-put together girl walked past me in an underground mall and I felt that DNA tug. This would be completely cold.

No IOI. She hadn’t even noticed my existence.
No spider sense. She was walking briskly towards the bus stop, obviously having just finished work.
No softners in her style. She was smartly dressed in expensive well-coordinated clothes.

Her later selfies looked a lot like this, at first

There was no reason at all to suppose she liked me or would like being stopped. Okay, that’s the blind approach I need to discipline myself. I was expecting to get a figurative splash of cold water across the face but I followed her anyway. She was moving fast, already halfway up the escalator and I didn’t catch up until street level at her bus stop. I talk a lot about the Russian Minute but I rarely get it anymore. These days they all either walk off immediately or smile and start eye-spazzing. This girl reminded me of the more difficult times as she looked stone-cold, expressionless and answered everything with clipped polite language. She actually said “what do you want?”

Not to be deterred I ploughed on and she softened. Two minutes in she said “My bus comes now” so I took a number. Mentally, it was filed in the going-nowhere box. Nonetheless I send out my feeler the next day. Surprisingly, she agreed to coffee with little preamble. I figured she wasn’t much of a texter when she didn’t bite on the banter fodder I threw out. She quickly snatched the frame and my heart sank. When a girl starts switching plans or telling you where she wants to go it’s a pretty good sign that she’s going to waste your time or start a frame war.

Right click and open in new tab if you want to read the red commentary

Thing is, if it’s the latter you might actually fuck her. Nobody kicks a dead dog and girls don’t frame-war a guy they are uninterested in. I decided I was willing to invest an hour in coffee to find out which. I didn’t have a lot of date action going on at the time. I started to lean towards the frame-war interpretation when she remained in contact and felt sufficiently accountable to me that kept me up to date with her status. Not a big sign, but moving in the right direction.

The date itself was straight out of my 2012 experiences in the Balkans. High value girl, fairly mainstream, intelligent, strong-willed and unwilling to surrender the frame without a strong test. I know greyhounds so I knew the battle-plan. Ten minutes into the date I’d given up on the squirrel/cat strategies of spiking them silly or turning on the secret society sleaze. This girl was probably Suspicious On and was going to insist I jump through some hoops first. I could either accept that (at the risk of having my time wasted) or walk. What wouldn’t work is trying to crush her frame and move it along fast.

Fortunately she was a pleasure to talk to, had decent English, and had planned a nice walk through the park to finish in a good cafe. It’s not losing the frame to let a girl in her hometown give you a mini-tour of some places she likes. I played along to enjoy the new sights and deployed my Most Interesting Man In The World Game. It really felt like 2012. My objectives were simple, in chronological order:

Settle into a comfortable vibe -> Display MIMITW value -> Let her kick the tires -> Qualify her -> Go for kiss.

I didn’t care if I got the kiss this date. This was a case of soft physical escalation because she was going to judge me as a value proposition rather than a spur-of-the-moment adventure. Everything about her showed her forebrain was in full control, chaperoning her hindbrain like a Victorian aunt. She never eye sparkled, her laughter was dinner-party-like, and when she allowed me to kino-test her fingers and hair she looked at me like a ballroom dancer being led through steps she’s already studied.

I felt her warming to me and could almost here her private checklist being ticked off. But what I didn’t know is if the final score would add up to “okay hindbrain, I’m going to leave you two alone now”. There were a number of frame-control tests that I just instinctively passed such as her wandering off a bit, leaving long silences, asking direct questions and so on. It didn’t feel the slightest bit impolite. It was more like Duelling Banjos where she was the city slicker throwing out some challenge chords and I was the retarded hillbilly kid smashing them back with interest until we were both ready to jam.

It started raining and after an hour I had to make my excuses to go, setting a limit on my time. I knew I couldn’t escalate my way to an answer on the “is she a timewaster” question – not on this date. Instead I had to make my move and allow the bubble to burst. If she allowed me to reblow the bubble over texting the next day, it would be a successful date. So as we walked through the park to her bus stop I did the “See that lampost? That’s where I’ll kiss you” move and she deftly eluded three kiss close attempts. I didn’t try too hard. She’d got the message. The retarded hillbilly kid had run up and down the scales, now it was up to her.

An interview with NYC womanizer Goldmund Unleashed

November 25, 2015
krauserpua

My podcast series Womanizer’s Bible has grown beyond its humble beginnings. It was originally just an excuse to revamp my YouTube channel and give me another outlet for mindwank than just the blog. And here we are, eight months later putting up episode #17 which clocks in at a FULL HOUR and it’s only the first half of the interview. That’s a neutron bomb level mindwank!

If you haven’t checked out Goldmund over at his blog, I’d recommend you have a look. He’s a cad and a bounder, writing gleefully about his indiscretions and frequently posting video and photos. This interview gives him a full introduction so no need to repeat it in text. Just click and away you go.

I’ll post up the concluding segment in a week or so. Comments and feedback appreciated either here or on the YouTube channel. So far I’ve put out a whopping 646 minutes of free content, nearly ELEVEN HOURS. Damn, I must like the sound of my own voice! I’m surprised it hasn’t caught on more in terms of views compared to the blog, suggesting either others aren’t quite as enamoured with my voice or else the material is just too niche for the casual masses. Perhaps that’s the inevitable trade-off when trying to do more advanced material. Dunno, what do you think?

Every group of men has it’s “ladies man”

November 22, 2015
krauserpua

Let me relate a story to you that my Brazilan friend and former RSG Bastard told of his early days in London game.

On rolling up in England, Fernando found a job as a tradesman working on commercial properties in central London. While he was back at base with the various carpenters, joiners, electricians and so on they’d quite naturally banter on the shopfloor and while snatching cigarette breaks in the delivery bays. One such colleague – let’s call him Franco – was known as the ladies man. Every Monday without fail he’d have a good story from the weekend of drinking, carousing, and sometimes depravity.

The men had come to look forward to his stories. It took the edge off being back at work for another week.

Fernando was an eager listener. Franco was getting hammered in bars and making out with girls, sometimes taking them home and other times sharing a knee-trembler in the back alley behind the nightclub. There were stories of wives, nurses, tarts….. all of them eye-popping. Franco knew how to tell a story and these ones rang true. Damn, it sounded great being a ladies man, Fernando thought, but it’s so alien to my own life: work, sleep, a few beers with friends.

As readers of my Balls Deep memoir know, Fernando read the Neil Strauss book and decided to try this Game thing. He attended a PUAtraining bootcamp in London (there wasn’t much else out there at the time) and then tried daygame. A few sessions in he saw me number close a hot girl and came introduced himself. We became friends very quickly and Fernando “got it” faster than I did.

Skip forwards a year or so and Fernando finally decides to tell his workmates his own saucy stories, of pulling two Polish blondes out of a Lodz nightclub so he and fellow RSG Bastard Ace can fuck them. Of a couple of girls in Vilnius, Lithuania. Of a girl he pulled home from a salsa night in Clapham. Finally, he felt like he could swap stories with Franco on level-terms. He was becoming a bit of a ladies man himself.

Monday morning during the first cigarette break, he tells his story. There’s a pause…. how will Franco take it? He takes a drag on his cigarette, looks out into space and laughs.

“Haha, nice one mate! Give the next girl one from me!” he says, giving Fernando a friendly pat on the back.

Next week Fernando has another story, of near miss with a tall black girl he met outside Covent Garden underground station. Then another one the week after. And another. Swapping stories every Monday morning, Fernando and Franco are bonding over the shared experiences. Then the bomb drops.

Fernando is regalling the boys with his latest story, another Polish conquest. They all stand in a huddle by the cargo doors because it’s windy. One of the plumbers pipes up.

“Was she hot, mate?”

“Actually” Fernando thinks aloud, “I’ve probably got a photo of her. She’s on my Facebook now” and she opens the app to scroll through. “Right, this is her” he says and pans the screen around the group.

Franco drops his cigarette in disbelief.

“Wait…. wait…. that’s the kind of bird you’re fucking?” he almost stammers.

“Yeah. Come on, you must have a few dirty photos of your birds, you horny bastard” Fernando replies.

“Yeah, Franco. Show us!” encourage the group of eager lads. “You’re the ladies man”

There’s a long silence.

“Um. I’d rather not” he replies.

This is a true story, though I’ve embellished the dialogue. Fernando said it was one of the moments he knew he’d arrived in Game. You can read more about him on his blog here.