I saw her a few minutes ago but I didn’t open. Now, standing next to my wingman, I see her walking towards me. I stick out my arm, she puts her hand on mine, my wingman puts his hand on her arm. She look into my eyes, she looks into his eyes, and she drops my hand. Twenty seconds later my wingman is making out with her. Two minutes later he pulls her out of the bar.
“Anthrax, I’m going to send you anthrax!” I yell at him as he walks out of the bar. Then I send him a text saying the same thing, just in case he didn’t hear me.
Game is viscous. You learn that fairytale love is about as real as a Bill Clinton’s marriage integrity. Girls respond to guys with the most game. Second best is just a fancy way of saying loser.
Anyways, good night all around. I went to the Tuesday spot and did ten or fifteen sets like it was nothing. Of course I immediately accepted this as the new norm and mentally berated myself for not doing more. There’s some truth there, I should have done more and stayed out longer. But it’s critical that I also acknowledge my progress and realize that even just two months ago I found it very, very difficult to have a good night at this Tuesday bar and now things have dramatically improved.
I went back home to my cow town for a while so I haven’t talked to a girl in eight or nine days. First girl of the night says: “I’m sorry, I just really don’t want to talk to you.”
Swell, got that out of the way. Open another girl who is immediately into me. Wide eyes, hanging onto my words, asking me questions. However, she needs a beer and goes with her friends to get one. I did nothing to stop her, that was no good. I should have tried several things.
- Go with her and her friends to get a drink. Don’t love this option.
- Tell friends to get her a beer while we stay here. Like this option a lot more. Automatic isolation and I get to talk to her alone.
- Get her number, tell her I’ll find my friends but let’s meet up in ten minutes.
I like option number 2 the most. Unfortunately I didn’t take any action and she left, arguably the best set of the night in terms of how well it hooked. Ouch. I open many more sets and they all go just “OK”. I reapproach a few girls, kudos to me on that. I do a few difficult approaches that my brain didn’t want me to do. Fuck my brain, I hate that thing so much. It’s as useful as a fat guy in a marathon.
*Last night I wanted to get to the essence of authentic expression. How can I express myself as honestly as possible. How does this manifest? In terms of words, it would mean walking up to girls and saying:
“Hey, I hate this place. There’s puke over there in front of the bar. Everyone is drunk and retarded. Apart from my wingman I don’t know if there’s three guys in this entire place that I would want to hang out with. I think you’re cute though and I haven’t had sex in 14 days. How would you like to hop into a taxi right now, go back to my place and hook a few times?”
That would be honesty in words, but it hardly seems like the best route towards getting laid. How else can I become more authentic? I really wish there was an easy answer but I’m not sure there is one. It’s like chipping away at a piece of marble till you get the statue inside.
*I have to stay out longer and do more sets. I wake up in the morning and regret it when I don’t. I beat myself up so bad when I don’t stay out loner and I wonder if this isn’t hurting me? You become what you focus on, and I wonder if by focusing on my failures I just bring them about again? I would probably do better from focusing on all the times I have stayed out longer.
*I didn’t lead enough last night. Sets withered because of it. Always better to try and lead than to let a set die.
*My brain hurts.