Archive for September, 2010

Day2 Dojo

September 20, 2010 14 comments

Is this how it ends for some of us? We started with good intent. We read books and voraciously acquired material. We got a nice shirt, maybe a necklace with a skull on it, met up with some wings from the forums and did approaches in bars. Sometimes we went to Covent Garden and walked round for ages and occasionally stammered at a girl that she was cute. We read some more. We approached less. Now, out of ammunition, we have to resort to using the enemy’s rifles against them. We sign up for a dating website. We go on dates. We meet a nice, plump, HB6 and finally we get to jettison years of backed-up cum up her guff. It feels good. We almost shit the bed. On the way to work the next morning we punch the air. Better to fuck the liver out of a reasonably responsive HB6 three times a week than walk round a bar with a small, drunk asian man in a bowler hat called ‘Fantasia’ and get blown out by HB9’s.

We stop spending so much time on the forums. We hide the books. Now the nuts are getting emptied once a week it doesn’t seem so pressing. It’s a great feeling, going to work from your girlfriend’s house. Saying at work that you’re “meeting the girlfriend for dinner”. The PUA dream fades out of sight.

Not I sir! Not I! I will NOT go gentle into that good night. I WILL NOT settle for a fat, thirty-five year old lazy-eyed girl with small tits who watches DVD box sets every night. But… I will do online dating. Oh no! Various more-successful-PUAs-that-I-know cry! You’ve given up! You pathetic fuck.

Well eat my shorts you little turds. Half the reason you hate the idea anyway is because it challenges your own model of the process.

Here’s my framing grace:

  1. I am “getting back into game” after Snapback.
  2. I am shit at day2’s. I managed to have three day2’s with the Venezuelan and create zero sexual energy.
  3. When on form I can get numbers in daygame from girls I’d dearly love to fuck. I want lots of day2 practice in before I meet these lucky ladys.
  4. The proportion of approaches to day2s is high. It’s going to piss me off doing loads of approaches to get the day2 practice. Or fucking up day2s with gorgeous little asian sex dolls because I’m still such an asexual chode.

The Plan

Online dating is my “Day2 Practice”. I sign up and use it as a “Day2 Dojo”. I’ll meet as many women as I can. We’ll start with a mere TEN dates and see how that goes. That could be 200 daygame approaches worth! Definitely worth it. I’ll not be fussy. Even if I don’t fancy them (highly likely) I’ll just practice my skills. If they go for it, fine, I’ll crank one up them down a backlane and get the old pipes flowing again then move on.

We can take this further. Look at my chum DrunkenBaker. He did online dating for a while and got himself a nice, safe little girlfriend. She cooks him pies, makes him hot chocolate, takes him on weekends away and gives him the all important regular sex. I firmly believe that once a man knows he has guaranteed sex then he starts to emit a different kind of pheremones. The man without guaranteed sex emits the acrid stench of desperation. Millions of years of survival have fine tuned a woman’s pre-selection instincts. You might be drowned in High Karate but to her you reek like a maggot infested corpse. Once the nuts are getting regularly blown out then it changes your physiology and your body language and you are instantly more attractive. I swear it. God I remember the outrageous swagger I had last time I was enbitched. Sauntering round a bar, dispensing my witty quips and charming smiles to various girls, absolutely calm and smug in the certain knowledge that once I got home my gorgeous girlfriend (yes, I’ve had one) was going to hoover the cum out my dick like an industrial vacuum-cleaner. Bless her.

This is what it boils down to:

  1. Practice day2 skills
  2. Acquire a regular sex girlfriend to adjust my sex pheremones and help me with my real goal, which is using game to pull a really hot girl, or several of them.

It’s going to be fun. I’ve never felt so freed up before. I can try different strategies different nights. I can try being overtly sexual, more kino, less kino, asshole game, chick-crack, vulnerability game, the lot. And every last drop will get blogged here.

Let’s begin!

I dug out my old profile from when I tried online dating last November in Newcastle. Let’s compare my old and new profiles. All comments and edits are welcome. This isn’t final, I’ll revise it over the next few days.

Old Profile: Me

I’m an interesting chap and am deluded enough to believe I am unique. I’m a sensitive, obsessive, quite nerdy, fussy. Wickedly funny with a sense of humour sick as Jacko and dry as the Sahara. Fiercely loyal to friends, remorseless to enemies, kind to little dogs.

Me me me… more about me. Well I worked abroad in China for 2 ½ years in I.T. I didn’t like the job so I saved up money and quit and spent 6 months writing and illustrating a book and setting up a company. I’ve now come back to the North East to look after my dad (he has Alzheimer’s) and do various business stuff.

I’d say I’m an artistic and creative person. I like looking at interesting buildings, paintings, scenery, pots, clothes, women. I value intelligence. I’m dead clever. Oh and modest, obviously. I like to do stuff. Achieve things. Create things. Hobbies are good. I’m learning a musical instrument (although I won’t say what it is or you will laugh).  The satisfaction is in the process not the end result.

I’m also a bit OCD. I like lists. And spreadsheets. Plans. Notebooks. Diaries. I’d guess I’m geeky. I understand computer stuff. It was my job and I’m not ashamed of it. I have oomph. I want to achieve things. I’m a bit manic.. when I’m up I’m up, but when I’m down… It’s been hard for me coming back from the expat life in Asia to living in Newcastle. However I’m slowly trying to put a life together and fill up my calendar. Maybe you can help!

My dad says I’m a ‘softarse’. I’m not very macho I must admit. Doing ‘lad’ stuff bores me. Sport bores me sh*tless. I’d rather sit and talk with my mates girlfriends while they run round with red faces shouting at each other. I like books. Good movies. Walks. Architecture. Shirts with flowers on. Latte. No, I’m not gay. Sitting in a café reading a book for hours. Travel is great. I’d love to meet some awesome lass and go backpacking across India.

Don’t want anything heavy duty (at least not to begin with). Drop me a line. Tell me what awesome skills you have. We can tell each other hilarious jokes.


Not the worst thing ever but it still makes me shudder. If I was a girl would I find this attractive? Probably not. It’s Herby. It seems to be the profile of a wimp. A slightly insecure, reasonable intellectually aspirational, nerd. Probably a nice guy.

I’d noticed lots of girls seemed OCD and fussy so I’d put that in the profile somehow thinking it was attractive. The bit about being a “softarse” is a total DLV. In fact the thing is full of DLVs.

On the good side I had a basic understanding of DHVs. There are plenty in there: looking after dad, working abroad, saving money, writing. Very nice.

New Profile: Me

I’m an interesting chap and am deluded enough to believe I’m unique. Sensitive, obsessive, strong, charismatic, shy, confident, I dunno.. Sick as Jacko and dry as the Sahara. Fiercely loyal to friends, remorseless to enemies, kind to animals.

I worked abroad in China for 2 ½ years. I didn’t like the jobs so I saved up, quit and spent 6 months writing and illustrating a book and helping friends set up a couple of businesses. I came back last year, spent some time with my dad (who has Alzheimer’s) and have now bit the bullet and am in London doing an IT contract.

I’m a creative person. I write a lot. I like looking at interesting architecture, paintings, sculpture and women. I value intelligence. I’m dead clever. And modest of course. I’m a confident guy. I know what I want and I know what I need. Do you? Don’t bother replying if you like wimpy men. Saying that, sport bores me. I’d rather read a book. Or go for a walk. Travel is great. Let’s go to India! We’ll do some backpacking then tour on an old motorcyle with a sidecar.

I don’t want anything heavy duty (at least not to begin with). Drop me a line. Tell me what awesome skills you have. Tell me a hilarious joke.


I tried to cut out the DLVs and make the tone more in keeping with the way I feel as a man now i.e. stronger. Remembering Krauser’s awesome technique of future-fantasy-projection I put some in about travelling together. Notice I’m trying to get them to qualify to me. Still needs more work and more material in there.

Old Profile: Her

After much deliberation I have boiled it down to three things…

1) nice person

2) good sense of humour

3) the patience to put up with me

Ta da! The rest is a bonus.

Now to fill in the gaps..

What’s ‘nice’? Well being kind hearted and pleasant. I don’t mean wimpy and soppy. Oh no. I don’t like wimpy and soppy. I like strong-minded, sorted, sound women. Yes, they can be all together. No hang ups about men is good, no chips on shoulders. There’s no reason you can’t have a backbone of steel yet be a nice person. So often people seem to get this all confused.

Sense of humour: well everyone thinks their’s is great don’t they so not like someone is going to read this and go “oh I’m not suitable my sense of humour is rubbish”. I suppose I should mention I am quite un-PC.

Brains. Smarts. I like it I like it. Educated, a degree. A decent job. Nerd? Fine by me. Engineer, doctor, painter, whatever. But do it well and take pride in it! When women talk science it turns me on.

Interests. Being interesting. Having hobbies. Contributing something. Doing something. Getting out there and getting stuff done. Dislike for mediocrity. Ambition is good. Ambition for anything. It’s attractive.

You’ll look after yourself too. Cook nice teas. Take exercise. Not wheeze when walking up stairs. (although for reasons of full disclosure I must state that although I was an exercise fanatic in China since coming back due to stress I have pigged out on cheese and put on 8lbs)

I’d like a partner…(er, obviously). I mean I want someone to experience life with. Do stuff. It all seems so much more in focus with someone else there to share it with.


Ugh. This is gross. The beginning bit just reeks of low standards. Following that the whole tone is of ‘cheeky down-to-earth chappy’. I mean “cook nice teas”. Come on! Gross. After the initial list the succeeding explanations just feel DLV’ey to me. “When women talk science it turns me on”. No it didn’t. This was just an amateur trying to guess what women would find attractive and making a pig’s ear of it. “Ambition is good. Ambition for anything”. This is killing pre-selection. What kind of girls has this guy had? And admitting I put on weight? Why bother. You can bet your arse the corpulent PA girl reading this strikes me off the list because of that.

New Profile: Her

You’ll be a nice person with a good sense of humor. Warm, caring, sparkling, good energy, sweet, feminine; these are all qualities that are attractive to me. I like smart women but I’m not turned on by long discussions about politics. I like strong minded women. You should have hobbies and interests like me (watching DVD box sets each night doesn’t count). Engineer, dancer, telesales, lawyer, secretary, I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter does it? You click or you don’t. I don’t believe in fine-tuning criteria and having a set age group or demographic. The chemistry happens or it doesn’t.

You’ll look after yourself and enjoy life. You’ll want someone to experience it with.


Still a first draft but trying to sound like a man with options who knows what he wants. Notice no reference whatsoever to looks. Obviously it’s absolutely the most important criteria but I think it’s more productive not to mention it. Needs some chick-lures in there. Needs a little more material but not too much. Remember, chicks are retards and we don’t really give that much of a shit about anything except their looks and how likely I am to get laid. Let’s not give them reasons to exclude themselves. Notice that all the criteria I list are ones that, of course, every generic womb-carrier believes that they have.

The Reality


  • Thirty five but younger at heart than you.
  • A bit fat but in a 1950’s bodybuilder style. Big. Strong. Can kill Betas.
  • Scary clever.
  • Twisted, sick fuck.
  • Low expectations of this process. Goal is to cruelly use the dating site to get lots of day2 practice in and obtain a ‘girlfriend’ who is in fact a dependable source of regular sex. This will alter my phermones and body language, get the sex monkey off my back and really help my game and my main goal of getting a really hot or many really hot youngish women with fabulous bodies to fuck me as much as possible and put to rest the demons of a lifetime of failure with women.


  • As fit as humanely possible. Body more important than face by far. Fat is only ok if you have great D cup tits, at least. Small tits only acceptable with a good arse. I don’t actually expect you to be that fit. I’m realistic. You may have been fit earlier when you were 20 but now you may be 35 and losing it. Nevertheless as long as I am able to obtain some sexual gratification from you I will consider you. I, too, am 35 but I am a man so I do not go off the boil like you do.
  • Intelligence not important. I’ll fuck you if you’re an idiot if you’re fun to be with.
  • You shouldn’t have an unreal sense of your own self value. This means if your looks are a 6, as are mine, then your actual value will be half of mine because I am fucking clever and brilliant and you are likely to be quite pedestrian. In this circumstance you will be attractive to me by creating polarity and this is done by being girly and feminine, not by arguing with me.
  • You should also not have really low self esteem and be whiney, insecure or neurotic. Even if you’re actually hot I probably won’t be able to stomach being with you long enough even to finger-fuck you.
  • Girls aged 30 or over who still get pissed, miss dates, get hungover, flake, have made-up women jobs, I will regard you as nothing but sport.
  • Any profiles with women taking delight in their “idiosyncracies” will not be considered. “My friends say I’m moody!”. Fuck no. “I’m demanding and intelligent”. Fuck no. These cretins actually write this shit.

Get my defence in first

I hereby state that in the slim chance I meet someone who does please, delight and arouse me then I will make a go of it. But still practice daygame.

Profile up in 24 hours. All progress will be blogged.

Categories: General

Porkies = OK

September 15, 2010 3 comments

I was talking to my mate SalsaLord the other week about, wait for it, Game. SalsaLord is not a convert but I sense he is a little Game-curious. When I explain a few basic Game principles I can sense he’s interested but he shows a lot of LMR in progressing any further and has a mental block about going so far as to read any Game-material.

Asking him why and understanding his viewpoint I was reminded of how I used to feel many aeons ago. SalsaLord’s philosophy is that he believes he’s a nice guy: high value, clever, funny, a talented musician, bilingual, etc, all the right stuff, and he is quite happy with himself. Why, therefore, should he have to revert to any ‘tricks’ whatsoever? If he meets an intelligent woman with the right value system then he’d be doing himself an injustice. He should just be himself! He really respects his dad, thinks his dad is a great bloke and his dad didn’t go round chasing birds and posturing and his dad got his mum, who is a great woman. QED.

It brings a tear to my eye hearing this sweet philosophy outlined. If I had my way he’d get chatting to the pretty girl on the train next to him tomorrow and that would be that. But the sad truth is that awesome guys like him spend years single. And possibly slowly become filled with burning resentment towards women and harbour fantasies of taking terrible revenge.

How your Dad pulled your Mam

It just so happens my dad was a 1960’s PUA with outrageous Game but I’m sure plenty of you have nice, Steady-Eddie, sweet ole dads with zero Game and lovely wives. Maybe you once looked at the wedding pics and saw your dad in his corduroy suit and mutton-chop sideburns and were amazed at how thin and shining your mum looked. How did dad and his mates do it? They all had girlfriends from when they were young and here you are, smart as a whip, and sitting reading blogs while the celtic tattoed, bleached blonde hair thickos are out with their wimmin.

For a start back then there were less men. Nazis, coal mines, fishing fleets, asbestos. After that consider there were just more people. The post war baby-boom meant that when your parents were in their twenties there was just an awful lot more other kids their own age. White people actually had children back then. In bulk. Not the little wheezing autistic specimens popped out by forty year old women to live isolated only-child lives that you get nowadays.

Ontop of that people actually worked less and moved away from home less and had massive social circles. When they did go out they actually had more frequent and genuine contact with the opposite sex. I remember once, yonks ago, telling my dad I’d been ought to a nightclub. “How many girls did you dance with?” he asked. “Er”none” I replied. He stopped dead and looked at me like I was an idiot. “None?” he asked incredulously, “what’s the point in going then?”. I laboured to explain to him, haughtily, that he didn’t understand that these days people went to clubs with their mates, drank a lot and maybe milled around with their mates on the dancefloor. “You mean” my father asked slowly and with disbelief “that men dance with their mates in nightclubs?”. He then mockingly explained how him and his friends used to go to ‘Tea Dances’. Scoff not. These things used to take place in church halls or social clubs. They were free. There’d be a row of fifty odd twenty year old girls in their dresses on one side, and forty-eight men in their beatle-crushers on the other. The girls were all terrified of not being asked to dance. All the men did all night was walk over, ask a girl to dance (and it was considered impolite to refuse) and then take her on the dancefloor and dance with her. Proper, old fashioned dancing where you actually put your arms round the other person and your body touches theirs, and where the man guides the woman about. Not standing opposite each other ‘dancing together’ without actually physically touching. “How many girls a night did you dance with?” I asked my dad. “All of them of course” he said. One night, fifty girls. And the men got to choose. A church hall and a record player. We’ve got it wrong somewhere haven’t we?

So we’ve got more youngsters and more women, and we have the men calling the shots. Ontop of this the women are fitter. Not the pock-thighed corpulent flip-flop wearing pigs that waddle round these days. We’re talking post-war, pre junk food thin. Spanish thin. Women you could actually swing up into the air with ease. Ontop of this we have a social order where women feel they have to get married. They are desperate to get married and if you hit twenty-five and are single you are over the hill. We’ve also got a non-existance of feminism and the grotesque media saturation that we have these days selling women lies of misery and making them totally confused so that they don’t know what they want. Not just women, everyone. Men are as confused as well. People back then had less and were happier. In those days a nice presentable lad with a decent job, maybe apprentice draughstman at the town hall, good sense of humour, kind to children, well he was a catch!

The problem now

Oh dear oh dear. How times have changed. Poor women with their easily confusable brains are now drowning in social conditioning. Girls who are maybe nice ‘underneath’ carry a thick layer of crap crusted on them. They want this, they want that, they want it all. Most importantly our increasingly femo-centric society gives young women a grotesequely unrealistic sense of self value. In other words girls who went for your dad back in the day wouldn’t wipe their backsides on your hair if they were caught short without a tissue. In one way, however, some social conditioning has been removed. Women no longer think they have no purpose or choice than an early marriage and kids and a life of domestic bliss/servitude. Although I think feminism is evil and I actually think most women would be happier with three kids swarming round their feet than spending ten years working up to be a senior recruitment consultant at Hays I still passionately believe in equality of opportunity. Opportunity, not outcome. The only problem is it’s gone beyond this into brainwashing and women are too stupid to realise it till they’re fat and thirty-four. Kind of like the way lots of nerdy middle class boys like me think the most important thing in life is to succeed in the workplace and are too stupid to realise this is rubbish until we’re fat and thirty-five. Most of us would be happier having sex with a few dozen hot women, finding one really nice girl and having a family.

Why lying is OK

SalsaLord thinks Game is lying. Some of it is. To me I don’t think of it as lying. It’s window dressing. It’s just how you present yourself. It’s an act. It’s not really you. Look at it this way: you are in this mess probably because of the way you’ve been socially conditioned. You currently are not emitting pre-selection, which is desperately important to women as it’s in their chemistry. How can you break out of this without faking it to make it? You can’t unless you get lucky. And here’s the rub, if you tell white lies and make yourself look high value and attractive, the woman is going to be an awful lot happier as now she gets to hook up with a guy rather than going home alone. You’re not lying to her, you’re just getting your just playing by the neccessary rules of the social machine which has buggered things up for you both so far. Just wing it for a little bit and after a few months it won’t matter.

Don’t take the interaction too seriously either. It’s all a bit of a front at the beginning anyway. It’s verbal jujitsu. It’s sparring. As Hoobie brilliantly says in Transformations you just need to stop her grabbing the wheel and ditching the car off the road long enough to get to the destination because when you’re there she’ll be really happy. Look at it this way. Are you watching? This really blew my mind. Ok… all single women want to hook up. If they’re talking to you and smiling then you are physically acceptable enough for them. They WANT you to succeed. Oh yes. They WANT you to be a guy worthy enough for them.  So, SalsaLord, wake up. Buy the Mystery Method, learn a few basics and work on your Game and don’t take it too seriously. Remember, each time you tell a tichy porkie, maybe DHV yourself by pretending your ex was a model, etc, you’re doing this to make her happier. In a few months she’ll thank you for it, like a dog with discipline or a fat kid put through a military bootcamp.

Categories: General

Decisions decisions..

September 13, 2010 7 comments

I have two equally tempting life plans for December and January (while I’m between contracts) and I can’t make my mind up.


  1. You love whoring.
  2. Cost is not the most important factor.
  3. In a year’s time you plan to take a big chunk of time off work, six months to one year, to do whatever you feel like, which may be more of the same.

Plan A:  Two month full-time Game-fest in London

My current contract ends at the end of November. I can keep my flat on and stay in London, full-time not working for The Man, right through till when I ideally want my next contract to start, say 1st February. That’s eight weeks minus a week at home for Christmas. The plan would be to Game and write full time. A Game orgy. We’re talking five day-game, five+ dates (if possible) and four+ bar game per week.


  1. Nitrous oxide boost for the Game, which frankly has stalled horribly since Snapback.
  2. May get a bird(s).
  3. Probably do more writing than the other plan.


  1. Not travelling in lovely warm Asia places.
  2. Not whoring in lovely warm Asian’s places.

Plan B:Month long travelling/whore-fest in Asia.

Can the flat and get on a plane. Spend a minimum of four weeks travelling round Asia, visiting friends in China and Manilla, travelling through Thailand and Laos, having a whale of a time and fucking as many hot prostitutes as I possibly can. Remaining weeks spent up North with folks.


  1. Sex with multiple dozens of gorgeous, enthusiastic, cheap Asian women.
  2. Random chance of bagging a freebie, traveller, shoring, etc.
  3. Not in London.


  1. No real progress with Game.
  2. Gives up on the whole ‘great experiment’ idea (temporarily) which was supposedly to give western women another chance.
  3. Slightly more expensive than the first plan.


Vote away! Suggestions welcome.

Categories: General