A Virgin Mormon’s Journey To Game

A reader who shall remain unidentified sent this story about his first time in a girl’s pussy. Names, venues and locations were changed by the reader to protect the privacy of those involved. I can’t vouch for the truthfulness of this tale. As is usual in these circumstances where anonymity is necessary, the policy is “what you read is what you get”. You may choose to believe or disbelieve.

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Dear CH, this is my story. It is all true and has been edited to ensure real names, venue names and locations are not revealed. I’m not asking for feedback because there is much to read and much to learn from CH, and I simply have a lot of reading and learning to do.

I gift this story to you. I thought of you mid-pump. I could feel your god-like presence looking down on me with a look of patronistic-pride. [ed: no homo!]

Feel free to post any of this on CH, in fact it would be an honour, but I’m satisfied with the hope that you’ll read this and hopefully smile like a father watching his son ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. [ed: i know that feel, bro.]

The following interaction occurred in a country like England or Australia or The United States or New Zealand or Canada. I am 24 years old and recently made a big change in my life; I divorced my affiliation from the Church of Latter Day Saints (Mormons), my ultra-conservative Mormon family and 95% of my Mormon friends. I’m more or less on my own and the ‘moral’ floodgates are open; everything is fair game. This isn’t my excuse for not getting my fuck on earlier though. Had the hot and heavy opportunity landed in my lap (heh), I probably would have seized it. So I’m no saint as I have more than my lion’s share of really big fuck ups, but the few rules I tried to follow were related to drinking, drugs and pre-marital sex, etc. The ones your parents generally care about.

This is a true story with names changed or censored.
This is how I parted ways with my virginity.
You really can’t make this shit up.

(Note: All my life I’ve been a beta/nice-guy/just-friend, I’d never kissed a girl or anything beyond that… I’ve read the beginning of The Game by Neil Strauss up until the part where the NLP guy is doing shit with the sauce bottles. Prior to these events, I had frequented the Chateau less than a dozen times and felt like none of it could work for me… Looking back, I applied maybe 1% of things I had read and what my friends had advised me to do with girls, etc… In the last 3 months I’ve spooned with 3 different girls, the last one of whom I fingered and sucked on her tits (lol, yes, they were all awake and sober at the time also). Ha, the girl I fingered however… Man oh man did I suffer a terrible case of the blue-balls because of it… I could hardly walk or sit down, for the rest of the day. Fuck you 8th grade sex-ed teacher for saying blue-balls is just a myth. Up until the events as detailed below, I was a ‘classical’ virgin to all purposes and extents.

My dear friend Adam said to me after I retold these sordid events to him, “You did what you did as a beta. Imagine what you could achieve if you worked on your inner game and became a lesser alpha…”

Imagine it. Done.

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The Dawn of my non-Virgin Self, by “m”.

23 August 2012

It was a Thursday evening and the weather wasn’t great. It had been raining for most of the day, grey skies and general gloom. Fuck it, I’m going out if anyone else is. By the time the night rolled around the weather had changed a little for the better. It was still bitterly cold which is very much par for the course in this city.

At 5:28 pm I texted Jane Stevenson: hey Janey, let’s go out tonight. celebrations are in order 🙂

I went and had a shower in anticipation for the night ahead. No plans were in the making other than the hope that Jane (Janey) would reply to my text and meet me in the city for drinks. At around 10:20 pm with no reply, I called Janey hoping she’d finished her basketball game (she plays basketball on Thursday nights) to see what she was doing. My call rang through to her voicemail and I hung up.

At 10:23 pm Jane Stevenson texted me: Hey! Sorry, I meant to text you. I’m at a 21st at Titanium, so we’re already out. What’re your plans? And what are we celebrating!?

At 10:24 pm I texted Jane Stevenson: haha, don’t bail, i’ll tell you what we’re celebrating when i get there 🙂

I promptly got dressed and fixed up my hair before heading out to the city. I parked in the “Horsing Around” car park and walked to Titanium Bar. Janey and her friend Hannah were standing next to a wall opposite the far end of the bar. I approached them and she noticed me and as we made contact, she put her arms around me, hello, blah, etc. She asked me what we were celebrating and I told her it was somewhat bittersweet… I told her that a job opportunity had come up in the capital city and that I not only got the job, but I was the preferred candidate for the role, “I’m moving away”. Janey and I have only met a handful of times but there has been obvious chemistry each time we met. I should have escalated things with her prior to tonight, but hindsight can go fuck itself in this particular instance. She said something to the effect of, “well I’m sure I’ll see you when you come to visit and I’ll try and come up to see you too”. This I liked. She introduced me to some of her friends and the 21st birthday boy, “[redacted]”.

Being the inexperienced drinker that I am (because of my prior “Mormonism”), I ordered a Tequila on the rocks (Jose Cuervo Especial) and it tasted of unwashed Mexican feet. It also cost me $9. Janey and a couple of her girlfriends were playfully giggling at me because of my drinking inexperience and the faces of pained disgust I was exaggerating. It was all cute, really. I went back to the bar and ordered a Red Bull to clean the flavour out of my mouth and thought I’d mix the two to see if it got any better. It did get a little better, but not by much. The Red Bull cost me $7. Janey advised me to stick with vodka and that I won’t regret it. These fucking prices also, goddamn.

It was decided that we would all leave Titanium Bar and go to McFadden’s Pub. When we finally got there (it’s about 4 blocks away) we were told by some members of the group who had left earlier that it was dead inside and the music was shit (they play the top 40, what were you expecting?), and we proceeded to return to the main nightclub strip. All the while we were walking to McFadden’s Pub and now back again, I was walking beside Janey, talking shit and applying a little kino when crossing the street. I was going to jaywalk in front of oncoming traffic (I would have made it across without issue) and Janey grabbed me by the torso and pulled me back into her, to save my life perhaps (lol). I put my arms around her and said, somewhat mockingly, “what, you care that much for me?” to which she replied, “I don’t like to see people get hurt.” I smirked at her and she smiled. We got to the front of Minq and waited for the birthday boy who had apparently gone off with a girl to get some food, however after having stood in the cold for 5 minutes his friends started calling him to see what was going on. Apparently he’d gone home (I don’t know if the girl went home with him or not) because he’d had a big enough night. Mind you, it couldn’t have been later than midnight at this point. “Some 21st”.

24 August 2012

When we got inside Minq we went to the dance floor and proceeded to dance in the fashion that SWPL youth dance. After about 15-20 minutes we left the dance floor and went to the bar overlooking the dance floor. I ordered a Vodka Red Bull (Red Bull Silver Edition: Lime). It cost me $10. After I finished my drink, Janey grabbed my arm and told me she and some of her friends were going downstairs for a cigarette break. I joined them so as not to be left alone in the club. During this cigarette break, some acquaintances of Janey’s joined us (apparently they were Canadian and [White] South Africans studying at a private school). Though I cannot recall his name, perhaps for lack of caring to, one of the South Africans I will refer to as WK had a keen interest in Janey. To my dismay (beta feelings), she seemed to reciprocate his advances and they kissed openly in the street. He was clearly the AMOG and applied kino aggressively and effectively. He also ‘seemed’ to be quite drunk. When I was introduced to him I simply told him to call me “m” as I ‘own that alphabet’ (and there are instances where I don’t want certain people to know my name). This stuck. Good.

It was then decided that we all go to the upstairs level of Horsing Around. There was more dancing and trips to the bar and more of WK and Janey making out. I tried my best to project an aura of idungivafuq but on the inside I was dying. Being a sports bar, Horsing Around had a promotional ‘snowboarding’ competition where competitors had to ride a mechanical snowboard for as long as they could to win some kind of prize. The mechanical snowboard works in a similar way to a mechanical bull. I got in line as I fancied my chances and managed to steal most of the group to come and watch me. I thought this would be a good chance to demonstrate some alpha athleticism so in my mind, I had a lot to lose if I failed… Behind me in line, I noticed an accent that seemed far from its native home. I turned to see a girl wearing a grey dress, black skin-tight lycra-esque-pants(?) and grey suede heels. She seemed to be 5-6 inches taller than myself (heels included). I said hi to her and enquired as to her place of origin. She told me she was a New Zealander and we started chatting; she was travelling the world and was currently based here working as an Au Pair full-time and as a barmaid part-time. We discussed our chances on the mechanical snowboard and she revealed to me that she has been snowboarding somewhat regularly, “at least a dozen times” back home (this was later evident in her performance). She asked me about my boarding experience and I told her it was minimal at best, but having been long boarding for a few months now, I have a general level of control on a board.

One of the men in charge of operating the mechanical snowboard approached us with a clipboard to sign the indemnity form in the event we should hurt ourselves whilst on their equipment; I think it was also to go in the running for some kind of bar tab prize. Riding the board had a no shoes, no socks policy and after a successful ‘practice run’ I motioned to the operator to let loose. In 15 seconds or less it went from cruisey, curvy sways to actual bucks as if you were going over a mound-field. The third one got me and I fell into the air-filled jumping-castle-like surrounds. I put my shoes and socks back on as the New Zealander girl was getting ready to have her go. She stayed on for over a minute. After she got her shoes back on I congratulated her on her superior snowboarding skills and asked her for her name. She told me her name was Samantha. I said to her, “hey listen, since I might not see you again tonight, give me your number cause you seem like a pretty cool chick”, to which she replied, “but I have a boyfriend”, to which I replied, “well maybe I just wanna be friends…” and shrugged with a look of nonchalance on my face. It did the trick. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that she was leaving the club to go somewhere else with her friends and there was a sense of urgency about it all… She didn’t know what her number was by heart but had it saved in her phone. She found her own contact and I typed it into my phone and saved the contact as Samantha Newport (Kiwi Chick). She left and my friends and I carried on for about an hour (drinking, dancing, smoking, etc.) and when we were satisfied that we had had enough, we went to Macdonald’s.

The group walked in and sat at a table, I stayed outside and spoke with a street musician as I’d met him on a previous night out and had heard his life story through song. I feel like we’re more than strangers in an odd sort of way. After some chit-chat, Janey came outside to join me and have a smoke (I don’t smoke by the way) and I introduced her to my Liberian street musician friend. He told her she was very beautiful and that I was very ‘lucky’ to have a girlfriend like her, which made her blush. Neither of us corrected him. I tossed some money into his guitar case and asked him to play a Bob Marley song. Going from the best to the worst wingman ever, he played Redemption Song instead of Is This Love. WK came outside and AMOG’d me by being all handsey and kissyface and whisked Janey away back inside. After he was done playing his song I shook his hand and told him to have a good night. I went inside the Macdonald’s restaurant and everyone was eating a burger or whatever. WK had ordered a side of Janey and was yet again busy eating her face. The awkward thing for me throughout the whole night was that Janey was the only person I knew beforehand. After 10-15 minutes everyone was feeling tired enough to go home. I think it was around 2:30 am. Janey was about to get into a taxi with WK and I called out to her. She came to me and hugged me good night. I told her, “I don’t want you going home with him…”, but she gave me a pained expression and got into his taxi anyway. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that interaction.  I’m not going to assume anything happened or didn’t happen, I simply truly do not care for had this not happened, The following would not have occurred:

Feeling defeated, I did a very beta thing…
At 2:42 am I texted Jane Stevenson: </3
There was no (immediate) reply.

I felt like a loser because I was. I lost the girl I wanted for the night to someone younger than myself, younger than Janey, and I felt ashamed. I decided I’d solo the rest of the night and see how things turn out. I went back to Minq and just as I got up the stairs and walked in, I noticed Samantha the New Zealander girl walking towards me, but she didn’t recognise me (or maybe didn’t want to) so I called out to her and she turned around. I asked where she was going and she said something to the effect of, “I’m trying to find my friends, I think they’re outside or something”, to which I replied, “well text them to come here and stay here and party with me”. She had a look on her face that said “but I need to find my friends, some shit’s going down” and she said bye and left.

At 2:58 am I texted Samantha Newport (Kiwi Chick): come back to the club, i’d love for you to chill with me for a bit

No reply. I felt defeated again. I stayed in the club and watched some well booty-endowed African girls dancing while I sipped my Red Bull. I finished my drink, left the can on a table and walked out into the lonely cold.

DESPAIR

Despair was starting to break me so I went to ground level Horsing Around, a nightclub renowned for being home of the easy pump and dump. It’s not actually that bad and I’d say the whole pump and dump label was applied because of a particular patronage that I haven’t seen there in years, but labels stick.

I wasn’t feeling like dancing or drinking anymore, I’d had 2 (count’em, 2!) drinks and wanting to be safe, I wanted to just chill for a bit to get the alcohol out of my system before taking the road home. I sat at one end of a corner table that some 30 something year olds were sitting at and I watched some drunks playing pool. It was entertaining enough. Directly ahead of me I could see the dance floor and there were still some nice looking girls dancing and whatever. I have to mention this because I witnessed first-hand a truly disgusting thing. A fairly decent looking 40 something year old Asiatic man with a good build and friendly face approached a white girl probably in her early to mid-20’s with thighs as thick as… fuck… my waist? 32 inches? She was by no measure (heh) a small girl. He approached her with a jig in his step which was appropriate for the music that was playing at the time and tried to lean in to talk to her and no doubt invite her to dance with him or join him for a drink. Sitting with her hotter looking friends, she refused him with a look of polite disgust so as not to elicit violence but to also get her message across. This was no child though, being the man he was, he turned around, devil-may-care, and continued his dance walk away from her and back towards the dance floor. As he passed where I was sitting, I called him over and said to him, “What a crazy place we live where girls like that shoot down handsome men like you *wink* (no-homo)”, he laughed and shook my hand and went about his way.

Another 5-10 minutes passed and as luck would have it, I saw Samantha on the dance floor dancing with some guy. She and some guy danced literally towards me and I just sat there, trying to look cool and aloof (dead eyes, left thumb hooked in pocket, right arm stretched out across the top of the seats, etc). I’m not sure where the guy fucked off to, but he left and I poked Samantha in her right ass cheek with my left index finger. She turned around and saw me, realised she’d run into me again and started chit chatting about stuff I can’t remember. Not sure if I can call him an AMOG gorilla or whatever, but this African guy came out of nowhere and started dancing with her all up close and personal and intimate and shit, and I just sat there, cool look of detachment on my face as she stared back at me. After a minute or so, it started to look painfully obvious that his advances and adventurous hands were no longer appreciated, so I motioned with my right index finger a ‘come hither’ to Samantha much the same way you would to a kitten. She came and sat next to me and I put my right hand around her waist (DTF lol). African guy had this hilarious look of ‘what the fuck?’ on his face and though he didn’t say anything, he tried to dance her back into his arms as weird as that sounds, much the same way a peacock would probably try to display it’s feathers more alluringly to a pea-hen that’s been taken away from it. She sat next to me and I didn’t say anything to her or look at her, and she finally said, “I feel so threatened sitting here with you”, to which I replied, “ha, and why’s that?”, and she moved away a bit and said “because you’re being so distant. I moved in closer than before (remember, this is a night club with loud music, conversation is mouth-to-ear with centimetres in it) and said, “I’m distant because you’re cold”. Something in her changed and she moved in and rested her head on my shoulder and told me she was tired. I took her hand and drew circles in her palm with my index finger and when she asked me what I was doing, I told her this is how I get to know the girls that I like. She laughed and I asked her where she lives, she told me and I told her “I can drive you home if you like, you’re on my way”, and this seemed quite agreeable to her.

We went to the dance floor, she said bye to her friend who was dancing with some other guy and we stepped outside. I took my jacket off and wrapped her in it (she had her arms crossed) and she protested, “no it’s okay, blah blah blah”, and I told her to shut up and accept chivalry when it’s given. No further argument. I’ll skip some of the detail here because I don’t want this to be on par with Lord of the Rings. We got to my car, drove to her place, I pulled into her driveway. I said to her, with the engine of my car still running, “I don’t want this to be goodnight”, to which she replied, “what do you want?” … She leaned in close to my ear, her breath heavy on my neck and I said after a slight pause, “I want to spend the night in you”. She started kissing me and was quite bitey which I found quite funny, that is to say, she was biting my lips and not particularly lightly either, and it should be noted that this was my first kiss. We made out for about 30 seconds and I knew I had to escalate shit fast. I gently pulled away from her and my lips finally left the vice-like grip of her teeth and I switched my car engine off. I got out of my car walked around to her side. She’d already opened her door and I gave her my hand to help her out, she got out, started making out with me in the street and I pulled away again to lock my car. She led me to an intercom panel to gain entry to her complex where the key to her house was biometric security based; her right index finger to be precise. She walked me through the gate and told me to stick to the wall as I walked as there are security cameras and she’s not allowed to have company in her house.

Everything at this point felt surreal. Here I was, having just had my first kiss(es) with a pretty good looking girl and she was leading me into her bedroom. I knew I was going to get my fuck on tonight, I could just never have anticipated things would have been like this. We got inside, went up the stairs and into her bedroom. She started profusely apologising for the mess in her house (she later said she’s OCD about tidiness and even a few things here and there drive her crazy) and I told her it didn’t matter. We sat on the edge of her bed and started making out again, but having read my friends’ sisters’ girly magazine with him when I was 12 or 13, I knew about girls having this erogenous zone or something that goes from the lips to the neck to the shoulder, kind of like a triangle. I started working that area with my lips while I had a hand on the small of her back and another between her legs on her upper inner thigh. She started moaning so I assumed I was doing it right. Haha, women’s magazines actually serving a purpose for once.

She asked me how many girls I had been with and I told her not to freak out or panic, and I made a zero with my thumb and index finger. She didn’t believe me and I told her this isn’t the kind of thing I’d lie about, especially in this particular setting… She got upset and said she didn’t want to ruin me, that it wouldn’t be love or real, that I deserve to be in love with the person I want to share my first time with… I deflected all of her concerns telling her she couldn’t ruin me because I have a strong heart, that it didn’t get more real than this and what we were about to embark on was love itself, etc. Pretty much anything to get around her negative emotions and get her back in the mood, and never mind her boyfriend whom she loved, his name didn’t come up once. Retrospectively, I find it quite funny how beta I acted as the crescendo of the night was in progress, statements like, “omg ur so bewtiful” and “i’m so lucky 2 b here wit u”… The heat of the moment I guess. Now, this was an unplanned adventure so it was raw. Later it got rough, but it was all certainly raw. And had there been a condom in sight, I still probably wouldn’t have used one, but having learned mid fuck that this girl was into EVERYTHING, I wish I had had a condom to explore her rectum with my hardware.

We undressed each other and these motions of pre-programmed human-ness took over. I don’t want this to sound clinical or overly nerdy, but it felt like two machines were interfacing with each other to perpetuate the operation of a greater task, it was awesome. We started at around 4 am and I felt like I was in a porno, we did everything; missionary, her on top/grinding down hard, cowgirl, doggy, sideways, lotus… My mission objective once shit was starting was to get her to cum which was on a psychological level very important for me. A few months ago I watched a how to video on youtube and the girl advised the digital insertion the index and middle fingers with a “come-hither” motion. I think I felt her g-spot and I focused on massaging her insides with that lump as the base of operations. Again, through observation of my subject, I can only conclude I was successful in my endeavours; she kept rolling her eyes into the back of her head, she was biting the skin on her upper arms, her torso and legs were convulsing… Shit was cash. Between her uncontrolled movements and bodily shudders, she looked up at me as perplexed as a betrayed friend and said, “how the fuck is this your first time?” I didn’t bother answering but I can only say it had something to do with watching lots of porn, reading parts of e-books that deal with this subject and actually caring for her sexual needs instead of getting hasty and just sticking it in. I did want it to be a little special after all.

I ate her out and she tasted of lemons and limes (she said it was because of her diet), she sucked my dick and I realised I am extremely ticklish around my upper leg area, she left scratches on my back that led to some high-fives in a steam room at my local pool when the question was raised. After I missionary’d her for a while, she took out her dildo (not sure if I was being inexperienced with her goods or if she wanted double penetration, but I watched her operate on herself which was quite a visual experience. At one point when I was giving it to her from behind I spanked her and she managed to say, “*moaning* ooohhhhhh, oh, oh, oh… oh baby, c’mon, you can hit harder than that, C’MON! *moaning*”. When I had her on top grinding down on me, she put her hands around my throat and started to choke me, and then she realised what she was doing and apologised. I would have laughed but I was too in awe of the hilarity of the moment. At another point I told her I wanted to try a porno move on her (throat-fuck) so she lay on the bed with her head hanging off the side and I docked my shuttle with the international space station. The best part was when I pulled out and that throaty mucus was dripping off my dick. Towards the end of our romp, I still hadn’t cum, not from lack of trying mind you. I have this dangerous desire to fuck a woman in the hopes of getting her pregnant and never seeing her ever again, only to be confronted with my bastard years and years later in an angry, violent confrontation. First world problems I guess. Anyway, I would have blasted inside of her with even greater recklessness as I had discovered a foreign object inside her which she told me was a Mirena, an IUD that provides 99.91% protection from conception. She also told me not to fuck around with it because it cost her $7,000 to buy and have it inserted. Back to me, I’m done with her and I was jacking myself as furiously as possible because I really really really (obviously) wanted to at least cum on her on in her mouth or pussy… I had actually tired myself out. At this point in the morning with the first rays of the sun lighting up the sky, we were both dry; inside and out, tired and sleepy. She tried sucking and jacking me off, and I would get close to climax, but it was like trying to start a car with engine problems. My legs were shuddering in a way that doctors would probably describe as exhaustion due to extreme physical exertion. My kingdom for temporary pre-mature ejaculation… Anyway, we cleaned up, got dressed kissed goodbye and she walked me to my car. Just as I got outside the gate, I turned towards her, placed my left hand on the small of her back and right hand down the front of her jeans with my fingers back inside of her. I took my fingers out after a few pokes that made her roll her eyes back (again), put my fingers in her mouth and she sucked them clean. I kissed her goodbye.

A phone call some hours later and she told me she had been too tired to go to work and had got in trouble from her boss AND that she felt extremely guilty for what had happened because she loves her boyfriend.

Although I didn’t get to deploy my weapon’s payload, it felt like a complete victory for a first time combatant (kind of like the snipers from the movie ‘Jarhead’).

As I got in my car to drive home, I checked my phone…
At 6:25 am Jane Stevenson texted me: Ahhh! I was one of those awful drunk friends…sorry! We’ll have to catch up again when I’m not being retarded 🙂
“Catch up” indeed.

Post-script

Having read the recent CH article ‘Hot Girl Crazy’, I can confidently say that Samantha lives in this bubble others have constructed for her. She says this about herself, “I’m a confident girl and I was so sure of my self I felt I had to step out of my comfort zone to find some insecurity to secure”. She lives a very good and easy life (the top 0.00001 percentile in my opinion); she resides in one of the most executive suburbs in my city, drives an expensive European SUV, has her apartment serviced daily (cleaning lady, refrigerator is restocked, etc) and this is all paid for by her employer. She is the most glorified nanny I can think of. Fran Drescher’s ‘Nanny’ character doesn’t even come close.

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“M”‘s story sounds plausible. A man’s first time is never as smooth as he imagines it will be. Halting beta missteps peppered with brilliant flashes of accidental alpha attitude typically characterize the virgin’s introduction to the world of vagina. There were some truly cringeworthy beta moments in his recollection, but on the whole his strategy was sound: he kept up the physical and emotional escalation while deftly handling the logistics. And he never let the AMOG blowout of his oneitis suck the life out of him like it does for so many recovering betas in similar scenarios; his mood remained engaged and his attitude positive.

I do think this young ex-Mormon, having now tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge of poon and pickup, will awaken to a world of wonders, and will probably get married a lot later in life than his religious brethren who stayed in the fold. And he will never look back.

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Street Kiss Close Analysis

Krauser passed along a video of his buddy doing a street pickup which culminated in a kiss close, and asked if I’d like to review it. Certainly.

I’ll do a view-by analysis, and highlight what I think are parts which demonstrate important game tactics and/or principles. As regular readers may know, Krauser is a proponent and practitioner of direct game, and particularly direct day game, so this video may surprise some of you who aren’t used to seeing bold approaches in action.

Krauser step-by-step analyzed this video as well on his own blog, but I decided to do my analysis before reading his breakdown. I was curious if our judgments would synchronize.

PS Yad’s documented street kiss close, which garnered some amount of fame, was reviewed here. Anyhow, onto the video:

0:00 – He approaches from the side, slightly in front of her, and has to backstep a bit. I think this is the best approach angle, because it looks like he just noticed her, and acted on impulse, as opposed to looking like he was stalking her.

0:10 – First deliberate kino. He lightly touches her on the forearm. Kino should occur early in the interaction, and be subtle. The kino also serves to slow her to a stop and drag her into his space.

0:15 – Audio is bad in this part of the video, but I think he asks her what nationality she is, or where she’s from. Direct game often uses brief, “stage setting” indirect openers. There is a lot of overlap between direct and indirect.

0:16 – He shakes her hand and positions himself so that she has to face him and stop walking. Smooth move. He does not let his hand linger long in hers. That’s an example of “pulling away” before her guard is up.

0:30 – I can’t translate, but it looks like he’s asking her a qualification question, and rewarding her with a short shoulder hug which he quickly disengages.

0:38 – “Can I be your friend?” This is the “official” direct opener, but recall that the actual initial opener was more indirect. Also, note his facial expression. There is no neediness being telegraphed.

1:03 – This sequence is extremely direct. “Do you have a BF?” “I would like to get to know you.” etc. But wait. At (1:11), he executes a combo pullback/neg when he tells her he just had a drink of wine and couldn’t remember her name. This is an “indirect-direct” game technique, designed to project both intent and value.

1:18 – He gets her name before he offers his. This isn’t a huge deal, but in general it’s a good idea to “reward” women with your name after they have given theirs. Just throwing your name out there first tends to smack of betatude and desperation.

1:28 – “I guess it would be a bit weird…” Preemptively verbalizing social tension or interest can alleviate it, and helps a girl get comfortable with you. Fleshing out her own thoughts is a way to connect with her.

1:36 – “I don’t know, what can we do?” Assume the sale.

1:46 – First real compliment, but notice he says it after she has agreed to see him again. Reward. Also, describing her eyes as “genuine” is more interesting than saying they’re pretty, or something similar like that. It’s less about physical features, and more about tapping into the contours of her soul.

1:52 – She is a bit nervous and throws out a minor objection (some may call it a shit test, but it’s not. it’s more like a female reflex to discharge the building sexual tension): “You’re so fuuuunny.” Notice he doesn’t apologize for his impertinence or back track in any way. He simply announces to her: “I just say what I feel.”

2:15 – I would like to point out his excellent alpha body langauge. He stands tall, rarely leans into her, and smiles cockily, all while maintaining easy eye contact.

2:38 – “I’m very forward, aren’t I?” Again he verbalizes the sexual tension, which helps condition her to his forwardness.

2:44 – He lays his hands on her shoulders, and strokes her hair a couple of times. Major kino escalation. Do you see her shrieking for the cops like an enraged feminist who thinks she just got raped? Nope. Looks to me like she’s smiling and very happy.

3:06 onward – There’s nothing wrong with capitalizing on your inherent strengths. Notice the face to boob contact. The touching has increased exponentially.

3:15 – “Well, I like you.” Goes for kiss. Rejected! But look closely… she closes her eyes and puckers her lips in anticipation just before her anti-slut defense kicks in. This girl is interested but ancient evolved mental algorithms are screaming through her neurons and pulling her back to the “chased” role.

3:20 – “You give me a kiss then.” Does he get flustered? No. His expression hardly changes from moments before the rejection to moments after. By pointing at his cheek, he deftly pushes her back into the “chaser” role, and the dynamic again reverts in his favor.

3:30 onwards – “Is it too soon to kiss each other?” “I’m very persistent aren’t I?” His strategy rests largely on airing the awkwardness that is naturally occurring in any direct street pickup.

3:42 – I like how he transitioned from “Let me take your number”. It was used as a springboard to molest her mouth. But he’s getting lots of IOIs… extended hand holding, hair grooming, dilated pupils (I can’t see that, but I bet they are.)

4:11 – Nice cherry-shaped ass. American women, take note.

4:28 – “I’m really bad with names, you know?” Her hamster hears: “This guy does this s a lot. He’s preselected. Engage Bartholin’s glands!”

4:40 – “Remember we kissed and had a nice moment together.” Anti-flaking tactic.

***

A couple of final thoughts. He’s fairly good-looking and she’s foreign. This will alter the pickup dynamics a little, but not as much as you would think. Street kiss closes are just as hard for good-looking guys with no game as they are for ugly guys with no game. Unless you are famous, most hot babes aren’t going to give up their lips to a stranger they just met, if he has no game. Yad, for instance, scores kiss closes on the street, and he’s no looker by any stretch. Nevertheless, this type of strong, bold, direct game will come naturally easier to men who aren’t so homely that women immediately throw up bitch shields or turtle and walk faster upon approach. Direct game of this nature is probably more suitable for either 1. good-looking guys or 2. guys who have rock solid inner game and belief in their worth to good-looking women. Men less gifted in the physical department and with inner game issues would likely see more success with indirect game, in which they can use time and gab to talk away their poor looks.

Also, I get a lot of emails from older men asking if this sort of direct street game will work for them. I don’t know Krauser’s age, but my guess is that it will be tougher if the age difference is significant (10+ years), and the man acts and dresses like his age. Steve, the guy in this video, looks to be in his late 20s or 30s, older than the girl, but not so much older that he triggers an instant blowout. If Krauser is reading this, I’d be curious if he knows any older PUAs who are successful with this type of game.

I just read Krauser’s commentary, and for the most part we don’t contradict each other on any major points. He makes a good observation about indirect body language working in concert with direct verbal intention, and vice versa. For instance, Steve’s strong eye contact directly communicates intent while his verbal statement is indirect. He also says that most of the attraction is built nonverbally, within the first 10 or 20 seconds of the interaction, by Steve’s masculine body language and forthrightness, and that most of the communication is taking place in her hindbrain. That first impression is absolutely critical, and it’s why you must master the right alpha male body language before tackling the verbal part of game.

Krauser notes as well that Steve never verbally DHV’ed (i.e., intimated his high value). He relied on his value expressing itself through his directness.

Check out Krauser’s game blog. It’s pretty good.

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How To Respond To Girls Who Call Out Game

File under: Meta game. A possible growing trend of women calling out men for using game, or for thinking about using game, may be infiltrating mating nooks and crannies. Days of Broken Arrows sounds the alarm:

I was window shopping and came across an OKCupid profile where a woman said, at the end, something like “And don’t try that Neil Strauss shit on me. It won’t work.”

She’s in the 8-9 category, so I thought this might merit an email to you. What do you do when a woman is onto game. I’ll send you info if you’re interested.

The war between the sexes never ends, it just evolves new weaponry. If more men employ the advantages of game, more women will find new shit tests to filter out the players from the poseurs. There will never be a time in human history when girls will offer the average man access to their pussies without at least putting up a figurative fight.

A simple, and effective, response to a girl with defense shields at maximum power against players using game is this: agree and amplify. For example:

Woman who was burned by players in the past: “And don’t try that Neil Strauss shit on me. It won’t work.”

Despicable You: “Too late. It’s working right now. Aaaaaand….. you’re hypnotized.”

Or:

“So negs are out, then? Good. I like to cut to the chase. How about we just drunkenly bump and grind.”

Or:

“Hold on, I think this is the part where I’m supposed to neg you.”

Or:

“Phew, that’s a relief. I was hoping you were the kind of girl who’d rather take long walks on the beach and let guys buy her flowers and shit.”

Or:

“Listen, this stuff came with a money-back guarantee. Don’t make me waste it on a nice girl.”

Or, more edgily for the truly stuck-up, asshole-loving cunts:

“It worked on your mom. I figure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Basically, you’re reframing what could be a negative (“You’re a creep using mind tricks. Now apologize for it.”) to a positive (“Ha, ha, this guy is in on it. He gets it. Very smooth. And why am I so horny all of a sudden?”).

There are other ways to handle getting called out for using game (or getting shit tested for thinking about using game), but agree and amplify is probably the easiest countermeasure to recall instantly under social pressure, and to formulate cleverly with minimal mental effort. Other commenters have offered similar advice. YaReally suggests:

lol E-Mail her “hey, I can only stay for a minute and then I have to get back to my friends, but I need a female opinion: who do you think lies more, men or women?

Did it work? Are you dying to jump my bones? Wait, let me try page 38, there’s a really good one about how I’m supposed to make fun of your hair…”

Send it and let us know if she responds. I figure if she reads it she’ll have to respond because it’s purposely poking her buttons. I would just make fun of the whole thing if she responds and lead it into stuff like “well shit, I guess I’ll just have to try having a normal conversation with you and do that whole “get to know you and actually take an interest in you” thing…god, dating is so much work these days! I’m pretty sure the pickup book would tell me to just invite you to my sex dungeon, but how about we try a cup of coffee sometime instead lol”

And then do her in the bum.

If she’s a feminist, she deserves nothing less than unlubed bum stuffing.

There is a good chance, unfortunately, that a girl who is obnoxiously anti-game is a raging ideological feminist. If you really want to bone her because she happens to be the rare attractive feminist, don’t be dissuaded by her faux outrage. Most feminists secretly wish for a strong man to confidently charm and dominate them into mewing submission. Since feminists are surrounded on an hourly basis by manboobed, asskissing sycophants who dream their crotch thimbles will someday receive a pity tug from one of them, your unapologetic, reckless alphaness will be a breath of fresh air reinvigorating their forlorn furrows.

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Hot Girls Need Your Best Game

Hot girls are different than other women. Not radically so, but enough to notice by those with an unfiltered eye. The universality of female sexual nature bends and distorts a bit when the subject is a smoking hot 22 year old 8, 9 or 10, like travel at the speed of light will warp the passage of time. In fact, speed of light travel is a pretty good metaphor for how fast you will jizz inside a hard 10’s vagina.

The difference in sexual predilection, temperament and reactiveness between hot chicks and the rest of womankind lies primarily in two interacting social phenomena: one, hot chicks know they’re hotter than other girls and two, hot chicks receive a lot more tangible and intangible attention from men. (An example of intangible attention: while fewer men may approach a 10 than would approach a 7, the 10 can’t help but notice how many men swivel their heads in her direction when she breezes past them. Tangible attention: hot chicks get their meals paid more often than other women.)

Knowing these two things, the master seducer tailors his game as befits the degree of beauty of his preferred conquest. He knows, for instance, that hot chicks will rebuke flattery much more aggressively than will lesser women. Hot chicks squeal with glee for negs and teasing bordering on insults. Hot chicks expect you to be flustered around them; stay calm and unmoved, and you capture their interest. Hot chicks love love love to be disqualified. And hot chicks don’t suffer weak men gladly.

Most invidiously, hot chicks may even be greater cheating and cuckold risks than less attractive girls. (h/t: reader wudang)

Unrestricted sociosexuality was generally associated with greater attractiveness in female composites and real female faces and greater masculinity in male composites.

They may also be sluttier.

It has been found that symmetrical men (and women) have a tendency to begin to have sexual intercourse at an earlier age, to have more sexual partners, and to have more one-night stands.

And their very special combination of genes makes them not only more attractive to men, but also apt to have more lifetime partners.

Scientists have found a link between genetically diverse females and high numbers of sexual partners.

New research from Western Australia has shown that a series of genes linked to the immune system could explain why some women are more sexually successful than others. The genes are thought to make them more attractive to potential partners.

There are two ways to avoid sluts, whores and manipulative users, and reduce the risk that your girlfriend or future wife will cheat on you:

1. Don’t date hot girls.

2. Break in hot girls with incredibly tight game, like you would break in a wild bronco.

Now number 1 doesn’t sound like much fun. It’s easy, but nothing good in life comes easy.

Number 2 is where it’s at. Tight game will tame the hottest girls. Those frisky mares need and love a strong crop to the flanks. The good news is that hot girls lap up tight game like a kitten does a bowl of milk, because they so rarely experience the thrill of it from the men who surround them. You will set yourself apart if you game a 9 the same way you game an annoying 6 who’s full of herself: like she’s nothing special.

The bad news is that hot girls are the best at sussing out even the tiniest hints of weakness or incongruity in men. If your game isn’t consistently good and believable, you’ll be lunch meat. And you have to be on top of your game for YEARS. The beta margin of error that you normally get with plainer girls will be greatly attenuated with hot girls. If you want to prevent a hot girlfriend from straying, you’ve either got to mate guard like a drug lord’s right hand man, or you’ve got to game guard like Casanova.

This is why most greater beta males shoot for the 6 and 7 sweet spot in feminine beauty; they’re manageable with some minimal game and they let the beta male sleep at night without constantly worrying every five minutes if the kid is his.

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Older Man Game: Direct Or Indirect?

Younger man game gets plenty of attention and analysis, but in comparison older man game seems to get the short shrift. The principles of pickup are fairly universal — female hypergamy operates on all men, of all age groups — but some of the tactical details will change if your age is significantly younger or older than the woman you are seducing. With that in mind, here’s a comment pulled from the Nick Hoss PUA website:

Another time to possibly go indirect: when you’re significantly older. A direct opener would force her to make a snap judgement, while indirect may give you time to demonstrate high value.

In theory, this sounds right. Direct game does theoretically corner women into making reflexive snap judgments. If you come on strong, a woman is not going to have the chance to enjoy the feeling of flirtation building to an anticipated denouement. She will revert to her default female filtering algorithm which activates at a much lower threshold if all she has to go on are your approach mechanics and plainly visible SMV irregularities such as might be apparent in a large age discrepancy. (Most older men, out of cowardice or lack of compensating attributes, do not hit on significantly younger women, which conditions younger women into expecting older men to comport themselves like bland, asexual lumps. The inverse is also true — it’s rare for, say, 18 year old men to hit on 28 year old women, and for similar reasons.)

But it can be argued, theoretically as well, that older men using indirect game on younger women feeds into women’s expectations of harmless avuncular daddy figures chatting them up with nary a sexual thought in their minds. In other words, if you are an older man hitting on a much younger woman, you have to be more careful about the danger of indirect game spiraling into breezy, chit chatty pointlessness. You’ll know you’ve failed when you swerve into more sexually tinged banter and she acts surprised and indignant.

So again we come to a pro and con list for direct vs indirect game that applies equally to older men as to younger men. Direct game circumvents the risk of LJBF prejudice, at the potential cost of activating insta-screens in women. Indirect game allows for cunning guidance of women’s emotions, at the potential cost of misjudged intentions.

Enough of theory. What about applied seduction? In reality, women make snap judgments before you even open your mouth. Your body language can be alpha or beta, and women subconsciously pick up those nonverbal signals of your mate quality. If you are significantly older or younger than your prey, your body language cannot, in any way, exude defeatism. Both the younger man hitting on an older woman and the older man hitting on the younger woman must seem in control of their worlds. Large age differences amplify the need for compensating attractiveness cues.

My gut feeling is that indirect game, as a contributing variable in approach-lay ratio, is the better choice overall for the typical scenarios involving older men and much younger women (10+ years younger). By typical scenarios, I mean non-nightclub environments. Women — especially prime age women in the 18-24 year old bracket — possess very strong preconceived notions about how older men will act around them. A direct, choose or lose, style of approach may violate their preconceptions so thoroughly that they respond by shutting down.

But that is just gut feeling. Any of you older men or pickup pros who have experience hitting on significantly younger women using direct and/or indirect game are encouraged to leave your opinions in the comments section. Award-winning comments will be highlighted in a future post.

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The Right Game For Your Body Type: The Ectomorph

This is the final installment of the body type-game type series, and here we will focus on ectomorphs, those men who have structurally thin, lean skeletal frames. (If you want to know how purely ectomorphic you are, just grab your wrist. Is there space left over? You’re probably an ecto.) The mesomorph game post, the second installment, is here.

This post will likely generate lots of discussion, if only because, according to the poll in the first post of the series, a plurality of readers are self-identified ectomorphs. This shouldn’t surprise anyone; ectomorphs are the intellectual somatotype, and they would be drawn to logical discussions of very serious issues in venues that minimize social chaos.

According to Sheldon, ectomorphs:

[F]ocus on privacy, restraint and a highly developed self-awareness.

The associated temperament of the ectomorph is described by Sheldon:

The Extreme Ectotonic — Reflection

The outstanding characteristic of the ectotonic is his finely-tuned receptive system. His spread-out body acts like a giant antenna picking up all sorts of inputs. Sheldon calls the ectotonic a biologically extraverted organism, which is compensated for by psychological introversion. Since the whole organism is sensitive to stimulation, the ectotonic develops a series of characteristic strategies by which he tries to cut down on it. He is like a sonar operator who must constantly be wary of a sudden loud noise breaking in on the delicate sounds he is trying to trace. He likes to cross his legs and curl up as if he is trying to minimize his exposure to the exterior world. He tries to avoid making noise and being subjected to it. He shrinks from crowds and large groups of people and likes small, protected places. […]

His hypersensitivity leads not only to quick physical reactions but to excessively fast social reactions as well. It is difficult for this type to keep pace with slow-moving social chit-chat. He races ahead and trips over his own social feet.

Just as the endotonic loves to eat and the mesotonic loves action, the ectotonic loves privacy, and intellectual or mental stimulation. He needs shelter from excessive stimulation and time to sort out the inputs he has received, and connect them up with his own inner subjective experience, which he values highly. Self-awareness is a principle trait of ectotonia. The feelings of the ectotonic are not on display, even though they can be very strong, and so he is sometimes accused of not having any. When they are in a situation of dealing with someone who has authority over them or with someone of the opposite sex whom they are interested in, they often make a poor first impression. They are uncomfortable in coping with social situations where overt expressions of sympathy are called for or where general idle conversation is the norm, for example in parties and dinners where they have no intimate acquaintances.

The ectotonics are hypersensitive to pain because they anticipate it and have a lower pain threshold as well. They do not project their voices like the mesotonics, but focus it to reach only the person they are addressing. They appear younger than their age and often wear an alert, intent expression. They have a late adolescence, consider the latter part of life the best, and are future-oriented.

Very broadly speaking, ectomorphs are the beta male civilization builders and maintainers, (as is often the case with these kinds of overly broad generalizations, you should adjust for racial differences). Uncharitably, you could call ectomorphs nerds, spergs or wallflowers. Charitably, you could call them brooding, mysterious rebels. As with the endomorphs and mesomorphs, how people perceive you will vary according to how close you lie to the extreme for your somatotype, and how well you have personally managed your inborn traits to showcase your strengths and restrain your weaknesses. PUAs call this “building your identity.”

Physically, pure ectomorphs have it the worst. The muscular meso and the chunky (but not grossly overweight) endo will both do better at attracting approach invitations from women. On average, and taking women as a whole and winnowing their attraction triggers down to one metric, stick thin men are least desirable to women. However, most ectos are not stick thin; a fair proportion are lean with excellent muscle tone, even if they are not as big all around as mesomorphs. The lean but toned look is almost as attractive to women as the powerfully built mesomorphic look.

Given this female preference, pure ectos will see the most bang bang for their buck from hitting the weight room. You teenage guys who can’t put on muscle to save your lives should take heart: bodybuilding forums are fairly uniform in their agreement that by your early 20s, the muscle starts to arrive, if you stick to a lifting program religiously. Later in life, ectos can potentially clean up, because by then they have filled out while less diligent endos have gotten fatter and the mesos lacking self-discipline have gotten older-looking than their years.

As hinted at above, ectomorphs probably make up the majority of game material consumers because they are the ones who need the most help (being the most anti-social), and who are best suited for adapting informationally dense, written material into field practice. The ectomorph is a thinker, and that means his strength lies in analysis, systematic breakdown of variables, and application of gained knowledge. No one is better at taking apart group social dynamics than an ecto; paradoxically no one is worse at capitalizing on his social dynamic knowledge than the ecto.

For you see, the ectomorph’s greatest strength is also his worst crippling weakness: the dreaded condition known as paralysis by analysis. You really can overthink a situation, and ectos do it all the time. Ectos are victims of perfectionism; if they can’t get it 100% right the first time, they don’t bother trying at all. They are, in this respect, the total opposites of the action-oriented, live in the moment mesos and the devil-may-care, socially indulgent endos.

Knowing this, ectomorphs tend to excel at the comfort and seduction stages of pickup, and to flounder during the attraction stage. An ectomorph is naturally more at home talking one-on-one with a girl, away from the noise of boisterous groups and the threat of AMOGs. On a quiet sofa or a walk in a park, his incisive mind can find its best expression. An ecto is unparalleled as the king of mental connection and smooth talking; he can spin up great yarns and fantasy landscapes that make a girl feel a part of his world, and his seductive gaze pierces like a dagger, because when he’s got his girl alone and in his clutches, he’s in the soulmate zone.

And as a game strategist he is the equal of any master seducer. He will always know in the back of his head when the time is right to venue bounce, or to push a girl away, or to make a bedroom move. He knows this because he is good at collating information gleaned from past experience with women, and from observing naturals at work, and learning from it.

The game tactics which ectomorphs will find easiest to learn and employ include:

– Any one-on-one storytelling or psychological game playing. (e.g., the cube, palm reading, strawberry fields, etc.)

– Intense, bedroom seduction.

– Calculated pullbacks. (The ecto has no problem walking away from a set.)

– Preemptively heading off potential objections. (The ecto sees two steps ahead and two steps beyond.)

– Eliciting a girl’s values. (Ectos’ refined self-awareness can be channelled into awareness of others’ needs and desires.)

But ectomorphs also have major pickup flaws which they must address, or they will find the game of love to be mountain too high to climb. Some of these failings include:

– An immobilizing hesitancy to approach girls or open sets. Of the three male archetypes, the ectomorph will have the toughest time getting over his social fear of talking to strangers. If you are a pure ecto, consider teaming up with an accomplished, sociable player to help you get over your inclination to insulate yourself from real world human interaction.

– An inability to react promptly to shit tests. The ectomorph is hypersensitive, so shit tests tend to knock him off guard, and he will respond by turtling into his shell. Also, because the ecto “lives in his head” he has difficulty staying focused on the moment as his mind races ahead at dizzying speeds, figuring out the intricacies of whatever a girl is saying to him. Therefore, the ecto needs to work on reacting fast to upsetting changes of conversational tone, and one method that is particularly useful for him is the pregnant pause. Ectos can calm their roiling minds by stopping, dropping their thoughts, and just rolling with the moment. Practice with the pregnant pause will help him overcome his urge to have just the right reply for everything a girl tosses at him.

– Calibration. Ectos are almost as bad as mesomorphs at calibrating a girl’s interest level. The mesomorph miscalibrates because he charges into conversation at full steam, while the ectomorph miscalibrates because he’s too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice how a girl is actually responding to him. An ectomorph would do well to hone his listening ability, and one way to practice this is to repeat in his head the last few words that a girl said to him.

– Alpha male voice and body projection. Ectomorphs generally have beta body language and vocal pitch. This unfortunate tendency is not necessarily due to low status; many ectos just don’t like being the center of attention, and they modulate their voice and shrink their body as a consequence of that compulsion to avoid attention grabbing behavior. An ecto has to learn to carry himself like a meso or a sociable endo, if he wants to make good first impressions on women, particularly Western women who have all turned into thug-loving, r-selected whores. (I kid! Or do I?)

– Kino. Ectos are uncomfortable touching women. They have to make concerted efforts to kino escalate, or their overeager brains and undereager hands will betray them.

Flaws aside, ectomorphs can do really well with the various subphylum of scenester girls who pride themselves on their intellect and nonconformity. These girls like that a man “gets them”, and ectos who have trained themselves to listen well are adept at manufacturing the “gets them” perception. Some girls also lean more than the average girl toward an appreciation of mental connection, where an ecto will excel, although all girls are more emotional creatures than mental creatures, so ectomorphs should not be complacent about emotionally connecting with women.

Ectos would do well to drop a lot of sciency, jargony words from their social vocabulary, and take steps to learn to speak in an attenuated slang. The kind of humor and wit that chicks, even smart chicks, really love is terser and slangier than the typical ecto will be comfortable or familiar using. Learning to speak like this, if it doesn’t come naturally to you, requires a lot of real world, in field interaction hanging out with cool dudes. Intellectual wit is best in small doses, when it can be more fully appreciated.

Finally, the ectomorph’s Achille’s heel — his trouble with living in the moment — is a flaw that can be rectified with awareness and practice. The key is to actively force himself to shut down his mind when out at a club or other venue. Simply telling himself out loud that he will go with the flow is sometimes enough to get him in the right frame of mind. He has to know that his extensive game knowledge won’t abandon him once he’s out in the field mixing it up with people. Another method for achieving this zen state of mind is to remind himself that he won’t reply to every conversational thread or shit test, however compelled he feels to do so. Skill at picking up conversational threads at random junctures, and staying away from those threads that are about to fizzle out, cannot be underrated. If this describes you, know that you don’t have to be “on” 100% of the time; often, it’s better to swerve away from a conversational roadblock rather than try to scale it.

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The Right Game For Your Body Type: The Mesomorph

Continuing our series about identifying the most responsive (or most accessible) game for your body type, today’s post will focus on the mesomorph.

For readers late to the discussion, the purpose of this series of posts isn’t to suggest that if your frame is built a certain way, you must run a certain kind of game, or you will fail miserably with women. The purpose is to point out that, if constitutional psychology is valid and somatotype is associated with personality, certain game techniques and strategies will be easier for you to learn and master than other game techniques. You will naturally excel at applying some game concepts, and naturally struggle applying other game concepts. While the founding principles of game are universal (because female sexual nature is universal), the details of game will vary in accordance with the context within which you find yourself, which can include elements such as race, culture, foreignness, obesity, sex ratio and your own inborn temperament.

Ultimately, this information is meant to be a useful adjunct to well-known game principles. If you know beforehand your innate personality strengths and weaknesses, you can take preemptive steps to shore up problem areas.

The mesomorph is one extreme of Sheldon’s three somatotypes, the two others being endomorph and ectomorph. Mesomorphs tend toward the ideal male physique, and prefer action and risk-taking over thinking and calculation.

The Extreme [Mesomorph] — Action

In endotonia the stomach was the focus of attention, but in mesotonia it is the muscles. The mesotonic is well-endowed with them, or to put it another way, the mesotonic’s muscles seem to have a mind of their own. They are always ready for action, and good posture is natural to them. They get up with plenty of energy and seem tireless. They can work for long periods of time and both need and like to exercise. They like to be out doing things. If they are forced into inactivity they become restless and dejected.

The mesotonic has no hesitation in approaching people and making known his wants and desires. The tendency to think with his muscles and find exhilaration in their use leads him to enjoy taking chances and risks, even when the actual gain is well-known to be minimal. They can become fond of gambling and fast driving and are generally physically fearless. They can be either difficult and argumentative, or slow to anger, but always with the capacity to act out physically and usually with some sort of history of having done so on special occasions.

This physical drive manifests itself on the psychological level in a sense of competition. The mesotonic wants to win and pushes himself forward. He is unhesitant about the all-out pursuit of the goal he seeks. Associated with this trait is a certain psychological callousness.

This outward energetic flow makes mesotonics generally noisy. They bustle about doing things and since their inhibitions are low, the attendant noise does not bother them. Their voices carry and sometimes boom out as if speech were another form of exercise. When alcohol reduces their inhibitions, they become more assertive and aggressive. When trouble strikes they revert to their most fundamental form of behavior and seek action of some sort. Mesotonics tend to glorify that period of youthful activities where physical powers reach their peak, or perhaps more accurately the period of youth that best symbolizes a sense of endless vitality and activity. This glorification of youth goes hand-in-hand with the early maturing of the mesotonic organism, both facially and muscularly. They look older than their chronological age. The extraversion of action that is so strong here goes together with a lack of awareness of what is happening on the subjective level. The quickness with which the mesotonic can make decisions is compensated for by a relative unawareness of the other parts of his personality.

The mesomorph is your classic aloof, asshole alpha male. He’s not trying to be an inconsiderate jerk (well, not always), he just is. Many naturals are mesomorphs, though they may not fit the ideal male body type. (For instance, the best natural I knew was a fairly short mesomorph.) The mesomorph has an innate temperament and psychology that is suited to approach-heavy pickup, and so he will have the shallowest learning curve if he is new to game. On paper, he seems like an unstoppable PUA machine, but in fact his type comes with many flaws, so don’t try to convince yourself that game is useless for you if you don’t have a mesomorphic physique.

First, as should be obvious, the muscular, broad-shouldered, mesomorph body is the most widely appealing to women. Given a roomful of one hundred women, the mesomorph will capture more approach invitations (come-hither eye play) than either the endomorph or ectomorph. But this appeal is shallow. A significant minority of women prefer leaner men than the typical mesomorph, and a smaller minority prefer “huggable bear” endomorphs. Furthermore, women’s initial attraction to men based on physical appeal is not nearly as unshakably hardened as men’s initial attraction to women with sexy figures and pretty faces. A woman will instantly lose her attraction for a mesomorph if he opens his mouth and lameness tumbles out. And women don’t feel near the same urgent, wall-climbing horniness for physically impressive men that men feel for physically impressive women.

Nevertheless, the relative ease with which mesomorphs get approach invitations means that, coupled with their natural extroversion and action jackson mentality, they will have the easiest route to meeting women and inducing an initial attraction, however potentially short-lived. This is an advantage that gradually accrues to a mesomorph’s store of self-confidence, resulting in a feedback loop that makes the meso more confident than his already elevated inborn confidence. Since overconfidence is the Moloko Plus of pickup, the mesomorph goes into each set with his guns blazing.

Because the mesomorph is a man of (occasionally thoughtless) action, direct game will be his bread and butter. He will feel most at ease, and most energized, running direct game rather than indirect game that involves a lot of push-pull, palm reading, or meandering chit chat. Mesomorphs will therefore excel at speed seduction — moving a seduction quickly to its sexual denouement — and they will be adept at venue bouncing, kino, escalation, deal closing, and out-AMOGing competition.

But the meso’s greatest strength is also his most vulnerable weakness. Mesomorphs’ love for action and escalation means that they are often bad at calibrating women’s receptiveness. The classic meso is the gung-ho military man who misreads a woman’s interest and bungles the pickup by being too aggressive and obstinate. The meso predilection to act first, think later, tends to make them impatient with women and their particular emotional needs, leaving the door open for a sly ecto or endo to swoop in and rescue the girl from “the meathead”.

The game stages where mesomorphs shine, then, would be the attraction stage and, to a lesser degree, the seduction stage. Their infectious physical confidence, “psychological callousness”, and bravado lure women, and their selfishness and strong will help seal the deal in the bedroom. But in between, mesomorphs risk losing it all. The meso is weakest during the comfort stage of a pickup. This is not the type of man who likes to sit on a couch in a dimly lit lounge, gabbing for hours with a girl about her hopes and dreams, running sequences of qualifications and disqualifications and playing games with his cellphone to increase the perception of his preselection by other women.

A mesomorph has to train himself to be better at reading women’s signals, and to be more refined at the art of manipulative pullbacks. He’s got the body language and the physical escalation nailed down; now he needs to work on his empathy and developing an attitude of scarcity to complement his transparent, take-charge approach mentality.

Mesomorphs in relationships need to be careful about letting their jealously control them, rather than controlling their jealousy to be released in manageable doses that maximally arouse their women. “Bemused mastery” is not an attitude that comes easily to action-oriented, quick-to-anger mesomorphs, and neither is self-possessed state control in the face of female drama. Many women, in fact, find it rather easy to manipulate mesomorphic men to do their bidding, which often leads to boredom for those women.

Mesomoprhs’ low empathy and high self-aggrandizement impulse makes them natural neggers (whoa!) and teasers, and women will eat that up. But the meso has to be aware of the moment when it is time to switch from aloof teasing to intimate rapport, and this means a practiced ability to tame his need for action and results. A mesomorph who can effortlessly segue to showing a soft side is one of the most fearsome seducers known to exist.

Mesomorphs must avoid, at all costs, their tendency to grabass. Every guy I’ve witnessed grinding on some fat bootied slut in a club has been a mesomorph. And rarely do I see these undomesticated mesos going home with their tormentors, unless she’s really ugly and desperate for a jackhammering.

You’d think that a mesomorph would do best in clubs and bars, where the noisy atmosphere and revved-up girls feed his already high energy level. But, ironically, mesos can do very well in, for instance, coffee shops, because there are so few action-oriented, bold men in those environments that the meso will shine in comparison. I rarely — and I mean like one out of one hundred visits — see a man cold approach or cold open a woman in a coffee shop (present company excluded). Most men are pussies. Curled-up, fetal, manboobed, hipster doofuses who can’t bring themselves to do more than flutter their eyelashes at girls they like the look of. The mesomorph with ambition in his heart and results on his mind will not think twice about swooping some babe pretending to type something vitally important to the continuance of civilization on her Macbook Air.

And it is this “living in the moment” — perhaps the gretest natural pickup advantage the mesomorph possesses — which is beloved by women. The underthinking meso never second guesses, never doubts himself and never suffers paralysis by analysis. He’s a doer. He can pass shit tests with ease because his head is locked into the action occurring in front of him. But he has to beware the pitfall of blowing himself out. That same proclivity to spontaneous action can lead him to misgauge women’s interest and overlook emotionally connecting with women. The mesomorph is the worst listener of the three male body archetypes, and it’s no coincidence that many of them are left at the end of the night shaking their heads about the “girl that got away”.

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