There was one big lesson last night: don’t experiment with new clubs on a Saturday. We went to this house music club in Brooklyn. It was fucking cool as hell. Great music, cocaine-esque atmosphere, I thought it was the closest to an authentic Berlin club that I’ve ever seen in NYC. It was also fucking horrible for meeting girls. Midnight on a Saturday and there was maybe two sets.

So we drive back down to Williamsburg and check out a beer hall right by my place. Dead, lame, pointless. Get back into the car and drive a few more blocks up to another area of Williamsburg. All the bars are charging cover. It’s not that I’m a horribly cheap person but if I’m going to pay cover I’d rather just buy a ticket to somewhere good. Eventually we end up at some bar whose name I couldn’t tell you. Mostly dudes but we find some sets. In the basement I see some girl staring at me so I open her, talk for five minutes and then, after four going for the kiss four times, we makeout. That means I’ve made out with girls four out of the five nights I’ve gone out this week (fuck you Wednesday). There’s some ego there but really, I’m mostly proud of because of the hard work that I’ve put into this. I got this many makeouts riding on the wave of many, many failures and fuckups. Now I’m doing better and it feels good.

My wingman also gets some action; a gay dude grabs his dick. This makes him feel uncomfortable so we decide to ditch this bar and go to Union Pool. By this point it’s an absurd 19 degrees out. We open a bunch of sets at Union Pool and I come very close to kissing a very attractive married woman. I’m not sure what held me back exactly. I could have gone for it but I didn’t. She was great looking too! Best set there considering that 90% of the girls we talked to were drunk as fuck. My wingman asked me:

Why do you not like drunk girls?”

Me: “It’s like talking to a fucking two year old with down’s syndrome. I can have a more intelligent conversation with a house plant.”

So we leave, call it a night. Basically it wasn’t horrible but it could have been so much better. The big lesson is to not bother fucking around with all these clubs.


*Eye contact is so crucial. I’ve noticed that when I have laser eyes I can do no wrong. I’ve been meditating twice a day instead of just in the mornings and I think this may be helping.

*In some sets I may be pushing the breaking rapport too far. When I just started most of what I said was super nice and boring. How about the weather? Now, in the last two months, I’ve discovered that girls like breaking report stuff, so I’ve swung to the far end of that and started talking about murder. I’ve been really good, I’ve only killed three people so far this year. This is a bit much. I don’t even really find it funny or amusing, I’m doing it just to be extreme. I need to find that balance in the middle. Like this gem that I said last night:

Keep your hat over your eyes, it’s like a blindfold. I’ll lead you around. Two steps forward, step down, set of stairs, you know. Next thing you know you’ll be locked in my basement. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything sexual. I’ll just force you to wash all my dishes.”

What do you think a girl responds to this?

Laughing her ass off: “I want to know where you live that you have a basement!”