Yesterday was a night of awkward emotions. Actually, fuck the Zen shit. Fuck the “there is no good or bad, only thinking makes it so”. Fuck all of that. Last night I felt like two-week-old tuna salad that’s been sitting in the sun. I felt like that rattlesnake that I accidentally ran over with my bike six years ago. I felt like Charlie Sheen when he’s not high on crack and sticking his purple mushroom into a porn star’s ass. I performed like hell in a set, I blew it with a girl who I was into, and I made mistakes that I should have known to not make.

The result was a girl refusing to kiss me, then refusing to talk to me, then not even making eye contact with me. This is especially painful for me because it brings me back to the days when I was shit with girls and they called me creepy and pretty much couldn’t stand me. I’ve come a long, long, way from there, but still it happens that I completely blow a set sometimes and it’s not easy. Perhaps worse because I’m entering the zone of conscious incompetence and I have some ideas about what I did wrong.

First, I didn’t move the set. I kept thinking “Do I want to try to move them, do I not want to? What’s going on?” In other words, I wasn’t acting with authority and clear intentions. I was being a piece of shit. A fucking worthless fuck. I still think I’m a sexy amazing person, but none the less, tonight I think I was worth less than that bit of dried jizz stuck behind the toilet seat in the guy’s bathroom of the freshmen dorm.

Second, I went for the kiss during a period of low emotions. I went for the kiss when I felt like holy shit things are going to hell I have to make something happen. Not a time when everything is going great, and she’s laughing. What was I thinking?

Third, I asked too many questions. What the fuck happened to making statements?

Really, the underlying problem is that I never committed to the set in my mind. I was always at 50% on it. Should I go for it, should I not? Do they like me, do they not? My night would have been much better if I had decided to commit, to move them, to give it my all and see what happened. Or, to get the number and peace out. Anything but that stuck in the middle like motherfucking Malcom bullshit!

I opened the girls at the club and I want to say “we” pulled this set to my wingman’s place, but really he pulled them. And by the time we got there it was sort of off, and after ten minutes it was totally off. And then it was me feeling like it’s high school all over again and girls value a used tampon more than my existence. Harsh but honest. Thankfully I’ve learned that shit emotions often lead to increases in skill. Also, even though I fucked up so many things, I had very good posture, I had good tonality, I had good voice projection. So that’s the upside. Altogether a fantastic learning experience. And Obi got laid with a cute Romanian girl, in the next room, and we all got to hear him having sex. So that was the night. Looking forward to taking my fuckups tonight, turning them into learning experiences, and getting better at game.

Notes

-Commit or DIE! Either commit 100% to the set or fucking leave. Being a waffle is for fucking chodes and breakfast.
-The grab both hands and pull in for a makeout is amazing! Even though it didn’t work tonight, I am certain it has massive potential.
-Bad emotions lead to growth. I’m very comfortable being uncomfortable, if that makes any sense.
-There is something to be said about the language barrier and cultural differences. Maybe not much, but at least a little bit.
-I want to so badly live with someone who practices game. If I do, our house will have girls in it 24/7 before too long.
-I see the potential of not necessarily going to the coolest clubs all the time, but just the local bars close to your house. This is why I want to live in Williamsburg.

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