Still Playing Games

I had a date with a 29 year old.

Remember that number:  29.

She texted me 15 minutes before the date to say she’ll be late, so I arrived even later than my usual 10 minutes late. When I walked in the bar, she was making an obvious show of enjoying the flirtatious attentions of two men sitting on either side of her. When we sat down at an outdoor table she told me how this seating arrangement would “discourage me from putting my hands all over her”. She claimed she couldn’t recall where we first met or what I said to her. She said she only dated men who paid for dates. She told me she gets bored easily*. The first question out of her mouth was “Are you a player?”. Shit test after shit test after shit test. Shit infinitum.

So I did the only thing a normal, reasonably well-adjusted man with a sense of personal dignity would do — I amped up my game to 11 and showed her the time of her life. I told her great stories that made her laugh, I touched her to get her comfortable with what would happen later, I pushed her away gently when she tried to give me a hard time, I qualified, I backturned, I cut short her boring conversations, I tapped into her emotions, I bounced her to new venues, I future projected, I ran the Love Test* (poon patented), the Cube, and Marry Fuck Kill. I read her palm. We psychoanalyzed other couples together. I explained the significance of her digit ratio. I danced with her on the street.

I drew her into my world and out of hers.

I took her home and culminated the night with hours of torrid, sweaty, passionate, body-shaking pornstar fucking lovemaking…

…and then I deleted her number.

I don’t care how hot you are, if you think you can get away with playing the same flaky, retarded, annoying female head games at 29 that you played at 22 you are sadly mistaken. Life is too short for your delusions of grandeur. Find a needy beta who will lap up your runny shit.

Last night was fun.

*Anytime an American girl tells you she “gets bored easily” you should immediately scratch her off your potential girlfriend list. I am saving you a lot of headaches with this advice.

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Flimsy Excuses I Use To Get Girls Back To My Place

Here are some of the transparent excuses I tell a girl at the end of the night to get her back to Le Chateau for a little of the ol’ flogging, branding, and penis-whipping:

“Hey, I just got my black and white photographs framed. Unlike so many people, I know you’re able to appreciate art, so let’s take a look and tell me what you think.”

“I’m thirsty. How about you? Let’s go back to my place and have a glass of delicious DC tapwater.”

“I also play a real guitar. I’ve been working on a new song of mine. I could use an unbiased third party opinion. Playing for my Mom isn’t cutting it anymore. Come over and have a listen.”

“You’ve gotta check out the view from my balcony.”

“Let’s swing by my place for a couple of girly drinks then head back out to play some Wii.”

“I collect old jazz recordings [editor’s note: I have a few jazz CDs given to me by exes]. We’ll go back and listen to them properly, with a glass of red wine.”

“Have you ever seen a houseplant with one leaf? I’ll bring you back to my place to look, but no touching. It’s very delicate.”

***

If I sense she is hesitating, I usually punctuate each flimsy excuse with something like, “But we can only stay for a bit, I have to get up early. So try to keep your hands to yourself.” That never fails except on the high self-esteem girls who want you for a boyfriend and are fighting to control the pace of the dating.

Will she see through these obvious ploys? Of course she will. But that’s not the point. She doesn’t need your reason to be airtight, she just wants you to know what you’re doing. That means, make statements, and don’t ask. Saying “Would you like to come back to my place?” is a mood killer. She doesn’t want to have to make that decision. She wants to follow your lead.

It also means not making her feel like a slut. So no matter how absurd your excuse to get her into your lair it’s still better than saying “Let’s go back to my place and fuck.” She just needs plausible deniability, however gossamer thin, to rationalize that her decision to go home with you was not the action of a loose harlot.

Don’t be a noodle-dick and depend on women to make the first move. You must have these excuses ready for every date you go on. In my experience, no quality girl worth having for the long term will offer to go back with you to either her place or yours. That’s akin to offering sex. Only high testosterone whores and cougars do this. Remember, if she’s offered to you, she’s offered to 20 other guys she met in a bar. Wear a condom coated with Doxycycline.

Some very brave and horny girls who want to preserve at least a shadow of their feminine mystique will hint at going back with you by mentioning their cute schnauzer puppy or their roommate’s erotic figurine collection. In these instances, you should recognize what she really wants and immediately take the reins by suggesting that you’d love to walk her home and pet her schnauzer.

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Bachelor Pad Seduction Props

Things I “accidentally” leave lying around and conspicuously displayed when she comes back to my place:

• A photo of me and a hot ex.

You know the golden rule: Girls love guys who are loved by other girls. Be careful with this ploy, you’ll need total plausible deniability. If she suspects that you intentionally left an ex photo in full view for her to stumble across you’ll spend more time explaining yourself and less time adding a new photo to your collection. My advice is to have a few other photos of random scenes that don’t include your exes strewn haphazardly across your desk or coffee table (but make sure the ex pic is prominent so her eye will go there first), with a photo album nearby, so that it looks like you were in the middle of updating the album. Also, you’ll need a solid story for why you have an ex photo that doesn’t lead her to believe you are still hung up on your ex and masturbating to old pics of her in the middle of the night. When she finds the pic, just say “Oh yeah, forgot about her. It’s funny how much stuff we forget organizing old photos.”

Adorable pictures of little nieces and nephews sitting in your lap or on your shoulders work well, too. Your computer’s screensaver is very handy for this sort of photo game.

Note: Old school print photos that are curling at the edges pack a more powerful emotional punch than photos on LCD screens.

• A baby book of myself.

Actually, I really did leave this lying around accidentally when my mother gave me a box of stuff from her attic to keep. To my pleasant surprise, it worked like a charm many times because I was much cuter at three than I am now, plus there is a lock of my toddler hair in there that always elicits an “aww”, but I decided it sent too many nesting signals and not enough jackhammering signals, so I have since packed it away out of sight.

• My guitar

I play guitar as a hobby so there is nothing deliberate about its display, except that I have it propped up near my bed. I’ve serenaded girls from various points in my place and come to the conclusion that strumming a tune for her on the bed is the best location. Some guys like to do their serenading from the living room since that’s where the girl will be sitting when she first arrives, and playing a song for her is an excellent mood-building routine in the early stages of the seduction phase of the pickup. But I have artsy black and white photographs I’ve shot hanging on the wall to do that for me, so I save my guitar playing for later in the bedroom where one 30 second song verse can obviate the need for a half hour of foreplay. Spanish Ballad will blow away last minute resistance better than hours of grinding tactical retreats and freeze-outs.

• A book on Tantric sex

For “spiritual enlightenment” purposes. This is the only subliminal message porn you’ll be able to non-creepily display in the open. For this reason, I’m always rushing to minimize my “erotica” folder on the monitor when she goes to the bathroom.

• Fresh flowers in a vase

What guy keeps fresh flowers in his place? Her mind will reel at the possibilities, most likely imagining you have other girls giving you flowers for your lovemaking prowess. If she’s thinking that, it cuts your work in half. If she asks, evade.

Her: “Did you get those flowers yourself?”
You: “They smell good, don’t they? Go ahead, take a whiff. I like the uplifting mood they add to the room.”

If she presses:

Her: “So who got them?”
You: “I have a secret admirer at work. I may as well keep them. Who throws out fresh flowers?”

NOTE: Dead flowers in a vase sends the wrong message. It says you’re either too lazy to dump them in the trash or you’re lamenting an ex who gave you those flowers months ago. Only Europeans are allowed to keep dried up flowers as display pieces.

• SLR camera on a tripod

What do you take pictures of?
Whatever my art demands.
Any people?
If they’re right for the camera.
Am I right for the camera?
As you are, maybe. Stand over there.
So, what do you think?
There’s potential. But you wouldn’t be able to do nudes.
Why not?
It’s a gift. Only a few women have the aura to hold the camera’s attention in the nude.
You’re wrong! I’m sure I would have the aura.
We’ll see. I could be wrong, but not usually.

• Cookbooks

Don’t bother learning how to cook. Just have a few cookbooks on the shelf where she can see them and the effect will be the same. Tell her you’ll cook for her “one day”, and keep putting it off.

• Stripper pole

I’m holding it for a friend.

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Hardest Challenges

What is challenging for one man may not be so difficult for another. A virgin might think that getting his first lay is the pinnacle of achievement, but to a singer in an indie band with excellent emoting skills getting laid is an afterthought. There are some challenges however that are difficult to accomplish for almost all men.

• Converting a lesbian

Not a bisexual girl. Those are a dime a dozen. I mean committed lesbians; the ones who have never been pierced by man love and know as much about cabinet resurfacing as Bob Vila. Turn a decent-looking scissor sister into a traitor to her orientation even for one night and you will have earned the respect of your peers. Bonus points if you pick her up at a Vagina Monologues show.

• Threesome

Yeah, it’s cliched, but that doesn’t change the fact that despite the braggadocio of countless pornstars in their own minds this accomplishment is pretty rare. If the average American man has seven lifetime partners it’s a safe bet that he didn’t blow the bulk of his lifetime wad on three nights with six different women. Pull a threesome and your name will echo throughout the realms. Film it and it will echo throughout YouPorn.

• Having sex with a religious girl in a place of worship

Sure, repressed Catholic girls will hike their skirts in the back seat of a car under the watchful eye of St. Christopher, but try and get her to renounce her chaste ways in an empty church pew or in the rectory while a six foot tall crucifix gives her the stink eye. Ditto for other religions. Ever bang a Jewish girl in a temple? A Buddhist in a monastery? Or… wait for it… a non-Americanized Muslim girl in a mosque? You do the last and manage to avoid decapitation your name will be legend and spoken of in hushed tones around campfires and at men’s retreats.

• Staying in love

Falling in love is nothing special. People do it all the time. Staying in love, and having it reciprocated just as strongly, is another trick altogether. Don’t listen to the rainbows and unicorns brigade; the world is not awash in a field of love consciousness. It is instead awash in fear, hatred, anger, jealousy, duplicity, lust, ego… and occasionally love. There is a reason so many people yearn for the life-giving power of requited love and that is because it is so rare. Stay in love with a girl who loves you back and you will secretly be hated by everyone. Kind of like lottery winners.

• Having sex with a girl who is already in love with another man

Why is this so hard? See above. As extraordinary as deep long-lasting love is, seducing a girl in such a state away from the object of her love for an illicit tryst is rarer still. Even the best players advocate learning to recognize the signs of a girl in love with her boyfriend and moving on to more pliable targets. A girl in love gives off a vibe that screams “I don’t even notice other guys”. Try and overcome *that* bitch shield. This is the Holy Grail of male challenges, and if you accept this challenge and succeed your name becomes a powerful symbol of evil in the world, scribbled in angry lettering on the back of notebooks by ostracized goth kids in high schools everywhere.

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The Danger Of Gaming Subpar Girls

This past weekend at a loungey club I attempted a number close at the end of the night when the staff was flipping the lights on and off to signal closing time. Acting quickly before a gang of dangerous hipsters in white Hanes t-shirts and superbly chiseled body fat hustled me out I moved to wrap up the conversation I was having with a slightly above-average girl. It went like this:

Me: We should hang some time. Let me get your number. Here, type it in.

Her: Sure, sounds great! [types her # in my phone and hands it back to me]

Me: [looking at the number with no name attached] So… how do you spell your name?

Her: How do I spell it? It’s a simple name, there’s only one way to spell it!

Me: Yeah, but you may spell it the hippie way, with extra vowels or something. Maybe your parents were hippies.

Her: You forgot my name, didn’t you?

Me: Well, hey, I bet you forgot my name too, so we’re even.

Her: No, your name is [my name].

Me: Hm, wow, that’s pretty good. But actually I think I told you my name was [minor variation on my name].

Slightly above-average girl walks off without giving me her name. Mission unaccomplished.

******

This is a prime example of what can go wrong during a pickup when the girl you are talking to is not hot enough to keep you mentally focused on the task at hand. You get sloppy and let your mind jump ahead to thoughts of mashing her tits together. Had she been better looking I would not have forgotten her name. But even if I had, I would’ve answered stronger and saved the number close:

Her: Sure, sounds great! [types her # in my phone and hands it back to me]

Me: I have a confession to make. Our conversation was so intense and I got so into the things you were telling me about your life that I forgot your name.

Her: Ravage me!

If you are constantly forgetting girls’ names, you are probably aiming too low.

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Best Feeling In The World

It was a late night at a new grimy club in the too-cool-for-school section of DC. I was chatting up an OK-looking chick made cuter by her sexy accent, youth, perfectly round ass, and the strong possibility of pulling a same night lay. But not a girl I’d consider long-term material.

An hour later I made the requisite bounce with her to another nearby dimly lit hipster hole in the wall (venue changes = compressed dates into one night engendering false feeling of intimacy). Couples were going into the bathrooms to do bumps off keys and grope against piss-splattered walls. On the “dance”floor (more like swayfloor) I saw a girl I knew. She was shitfaced and way too happy to see me. My mind started to race. Switch targets? Make the other girl jealous? Attempt threesome?

As I’m ignoring my first girl, my wingman leans in and barks “Focus!”

I focused. Back to the original plan. With renewed purpose, I felt myself entering the zone. The Zone is when you are taking the lead on everything, being the man, enveloping the girl in the musky shroud of your masculinity, and you are not apologizing for any of it. You are a stalking leopard about to pounce. And she is following without hassle and you can see the deep attraction in her eyes. She will put up token resistance, sure, but you’ve been here before… you know it means nothing. It is the resistance of a woman who is secretly happy to surrender to forces beyond her control. The outcome is preordained.

It is the second-best feeling in the world.

The next morning all I could think was how to hustle her off without hurting her feelings. She roused herself from sleep early and, after a blowjob reveille, looked at me with a serious face.

“I’m leaving to go back home to [insert faraway foreign country here] this afternoon.”

Godsend!

“Wow. Wow. Well, that kinda sucks. I’ll walk you to the Metro.”

One more flag added to my flag count, and 90% of them were gotten within five blocks of my place in DC.

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Bad Sex

It’s often the man who gets blamed for bad sex.

He came too fast.

He didn’t make me come.

He forgot about foreplay.

He wouldn’t go down on me.

In and out, roll off. That was it.

He never kisses me during sex.

All he knew was one position — doggy style. 

Women can be bad lays too, but when it’s the man’s fault there are two possible reasons for it. One, he was inexperienced. Women usually blame all bad sex on the inexperience and ineptitude of the man. This is a comforting thought for them, but the reality is that virginal incompetence accounts for very few poor sexual encounters. For every virgin clumsily popping his cherry there are 10,000 men with extensive sexual histories enjoying a romp in the sack. The second, and by far more frequent, reason for bad sex is that the woman wasn’t pretty enough to stimulate the man to answer the call of duty with enthusiasm. This reason — uninspired sex caused by female ugliness — is understandably disturbing for women to contemplate. There will never be a situation where one girl says to the other “He’s horrible in bed because you’re kinda gross-looking.”

If a woman wants an attentive lover she has to learn to settle so that whichever man she sleeps with is grateful to be there. Only this will guarantee lavish devotion to her sexual needs.

Betas who have managed the trick of getting laid regularly never veer off the path of least resistance. They are satisfied with subpar sex from girls who don’t push their limits. A man of discerning taste should make it a rule to pursue the choicest ass. He knows that phoning in unexciting sex with marginal girls will have a negative effect on his bedroom skills. His thrusting muscles will atrophy and his staying power will grow weak. His tepid loads will barely reach escape velocity. His knack for finding the location of the G spot will disappear. Soon, he will forget what it takes to drive a woman into ecstasy.

Then when the time comes to perform with a quality babe, he’ll stumble into his role unprepared and unsure of his abilities, like a declawed house cat abandoned to the wild.

Easy sex with mediocre girls also risks damaging a man’s self-confidence (though not as badly as involuntary celibacy would). He will begin to wonder if this is the best he can do. As an analogy, if you spend a few hours learning to play one simple song on a guitar and then play only that song over and over for months, you’ll slowly lose pride in your accomplishment.

Seducing a beautiful woman ensures you’ll give her maximum attention to detail in bed. The way to be a sex god is to have sex with women who motivate you to be a sex god. You’d be surprised at the depravity you’re capable of with the right girl. The hottest girl I ever slept with couldn’t stand up for an hour afterwards.

Keep yourself in fighting form. Let the betas hunt wounded prey. Alphas hunt the hunters.

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