Warning: Long, 52 pages.
This is an old article from some time ago. We had some female commenters on the site, and of course, they blew off this guy’s problems altogether. But then, those commenters weren’t real women. They were feminists. There are real women and there are feminists. We love real women here at Beyond Highbrow. The feminists can go pound sand!
We never could figure out what on Earth this guy was doing wrong. However, at this late date, this could very well be me. This is pretty much my life these days. I still date women my age, and they’re about the only ones who show any interest in me. Most of them look like crap, but a few still look pretty good. With all of the rest of them though, I get something that looks like hate. Or if not hate, just utter indifference and a general sense of unfriendliness.
A lot of men are still really nice to me, so it can’t be me. I wonder why this is so little talked about? Why is it no one talks about how shitty women treat older men? The only young women who want to go out with me either want to charge me in one way or another or they’re trying to steal from me, in which case, they’re often not even women.
Instead, they’re just catfish, mostly Nigerian scammers. The dating sites are swarming with Nigerian scammers, who are out and out fraudsters and thieves. Nigerians have destroyed almost every single dating site out there, at least here in the US. All I’ve got to say is that Nigerians sure are shitty human beings. They’re a plague on the human race – a criminal race. A race of criminals, like Gypsies.
From here. Very interesting article. What did he do wrong?
Why Hasn’t Game Worked?
Hello everyone. I’m in a unique situation. My purpose in writing this thread is to identify the problem so I can solve it. It’s not to whine or complain. It might seem that way, and if it does, then forgive me, I’m really sincerely trying to solve the issues here.
My situation is that I’ve been practicing Game (not just learning or ‘studying’, but actively going out and doing) for the past ten years. I first found the red pill in the form of David D at the age of 17, and I’m 28 now. For that entire time, I’ve been doing everything I’m supposed to do: I’ve done astronomical amounts of approaches on a consistent basis in all sorts of settings both daytime and nighttime.
I’ve read up on different schools of Game, tried many out, kept a journal of my interactions, reviewed what I did right and what I could improve on, and generally conquered every woman-related fear that I could identify.
My philosophy on Game and life in general could pretty much be summed up as follows: “If you’re afraid of it, all the more reason to go and do it.” I feel that whatever’s blocking me from getting laid inevitably has to do with fear – and so if I keep noticing fears and promptly taking the courage to overcome them, then eventually all of that fear-conquering will lead to improvement in my life.
And as a result, I have almost no approach anxiety. I overcame approach anxiety years ago. I can approach just about any girl in just about any place.
It’s no longer an issue for me. I even used to have friends and wingmen point out the most difficult sets, and I’d approach them just to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid and to prove that hesitation and fear weren’t the reasons for why I wasn’t getting female affection.
But despite all of the work I’ve put in, I have nothing to show. I’m a virgin with the exception of times I hired prostitutes, which comes out to a grand total of 5 times. I haven’t had sex with any girl who wasn’t ‘working’.
I am not a troll. I am a man who has put in the time and work and courage to improve my life. It just hasn’t worked. And I’m trying to figure out why.
When I heard about Elliot Rodger, something in me changed. Things are serious now. I can see myself turning into him eventually if this problem isn’t solved. I’ve read the first 90 pages of the manifesto, and it’s like reading my own autobiography.
The way he describes the utter hopelessness he feels and the jealousy was like hearing my own story told back to me. The only difference between me and him is that I always believed in the possibility of success, and I went out and took the active steps necessary to achieve it. I put in the work, and I took the risks.
Oh, and I’m not a racist. And I never had any interest in guns. And I played AOE instead of WOW…But everything else, it’s like we had the same life.
I’m currently applying for English teaching jobs overseas, so I can get a girlfriend based on the Murr’kin factor, i.e. socioeconomic status. But I’m concerned that this might not work as well as I expect it to.
I’m concerned that whatever the “issue” is with my Game is going to follow me wherever I go. In another country I’m sure I’ll get dates. I may get hookups. I might even get sex. But it’ll be based on money, status, and nationality – and how long will it be before the girl starts to play me, use me, dig for gold, etc? How long before my lack of skill with women catches up to me?
I want to figure out what the #$%^ing issue is.
So I’ve written a story about my life from the beginning up until the present with a focus on girls and Game. I’m sure there’s a pattern in there which one of you experts can pick out and be like “I found your problem!” At least I’m hoping for that.
My story is both inspiring and heartbreaking, hopeful and hopeless, and enraging and comical all at the same time. It will elicit mad props in one sentence, pity in the next, and raucous laughter not far behind. I think you will enjoy it.
So without further ado, here it is. Tell me what you think.
I was born in 1985 and had a reasonably happy childhood. There were no major financial or familial disruptions, no poverty, war, disease, or sudden loss. I’m pretty sure that some of my parents’ behavior bordered on abusive, but that can be said of almost everyone in this society.
As a kid, I mostly played videogames and romped around the house with friends – I didn’t care much for sports. People described me as strong-willed, highly intelligent, and cute. I never got into trouble in school (although, looking back, I fucking wish I had!).
I got a lot of toys, and my parents bought me pretty much whatever I wanted within reason. We were middle class, Jewish, and lived in a cookie-cutter neighborhood in the northwestern suburbs of Baltimore, MD.
My interests were mostly of a nerdy nature and involved games and computers – although I was never really identified as a “nerd” outright. I was never identified with any particular subculture. I didn’t really care about fitting in or being popular. I just wanted to have fun and live my life.
All of my friends were male, and I never had any female friends (something that persists up until the present day). But in elementary school, I didn’t care. Girls were like a foreign species; they weren’t interested in the things I liked, and I didn’t see any reason to want to hang out with them.
When I got to middle school, that started to change, as I started to feel attraction and desire for girls. It was in 6th grade that I experienced my first crush: a petite, slightly mousy little blonde with freckles. I had no idea how to get close to her, so I basically just admired her from afar while hoping that fate would somehow bring us together.
I was extremely afraid of the social repercussions for ‘liking’ a girl who didn’t like me back, so I was careful to never show that I ‘liked’ her. Whenever I saw her in class or the hallways, I would look at her as much as I could but would always look away if she looked in my direction.
Eventually I asked one of my gossipy, “in-crowd” friends to find out if she liked me by asking her friends. He did as I asked and inquired with her friends, and he reported back “No”, she said she didn’t like me.
And the result was quite dramatic – the girl came into class the next day red-faced and embarrassed, and everyone was looking at me with a strange look – a combination of laughter, derision, shock, and, “Oh boy, look what you did, you’re in big trouble.” I felt totally ashamed and couldn’t even look at her anymore.
I dreaded the classes that I had with her. Despite this, a few weeks later at the ice skating rink (the popular gathering place for kids after school), I approached her on the ice and tried to start a conversation. She just stared off into space and shook her head, not even making eye contact with me. But at least I tried. Even back then, I was consciously overcoming my fears and taking risks.
In 7th grade, I developed a crush on another girl. This time I learned from my mistakes and decided to ask the girl out directly without going through a third party. This girl was a little bit more outgoing then the previous one, and I had already had several conversations with her in various contexts.
So one day after the bell as everyone was going home, I approached her at her locker and asked her out on a date. She said no. But she was tactful about it at least. I still remember the walk home after that, feeling a mix of both pride and disappointment. I was proud of myself for taking the risk but disappointed that it didn’t lead anywhere. This pattern would become very prominent in the following years.
I don’t remember having any crushes in 8th grade. This was the time when I actually entered puberty. The two previous crushes were of an emotional nature – they were cute, and I wanted to be close to them because the thought of it felt warm and lovey. It was emotional but not sexual because I didn’t have any sexual desires yet.
But in 8th grade I had my first ejaculation, and I started to be attracted to girls sexually. I remember sitting in my seat, and whenever girls would walk by me up close, I would almost cream in my pants just from their presence a couple feet away. I remember running home as fast as I could to masturbate.
My dad was a collector of Playboy magazines, and I started using those. I was both bewildered and resentful of those images. I obviously enjoyed the feeling of sexual release, but I resented the fact that it seemed to be bugging me all the frigging time, and I couldn’t focus on my books and computer games anymore cause the damn magazines were calling me all fucking day!
In 9th grade, I started to become aware that other guys had girlfriends and I didn’t, but this didn’t really bother me all that much. I would have preferred to have a girlfriend, and I made some attempts here and there, but it wasn’t the main thing on my mind. My main interests were computer games (Age of Empires II), fantasy novels (LOTR, WoT), other assorted nerdy things, and politics (I had become a passionate environmentalist).
I did ask a girl to the Homecoming Dance though. She was a friend of my one of my friends, and I sat down to eat lunch with her and asked her to the dance. She declined. I was a little upset, but it wasn’t devastating. I picked up and continued my nerd hobbies. This mindset persisted through 10th grade, which was the final year in which I would identify myself as “happy.”
In the summer between 10th and 11th grades, I played an RPG called Final Fantasy IX on the PlayStation. In this game, the main protagonist slowly develops a relationship with a princess who joins the team and fights alongside him in the adventure. Through their trials, they grow closer to one another, and I felt the first tastes of what an actual relationship was like.
The entire time I was fighting monsters and solving puzzles and watching worlds be destroyed and the very fabric of time and space being bent, all I really thought about was how awesome it felt to be doing it all alongside a really cute princess!
The game is approximately 40 hours long, and I finished it in 4 days, so the intensity was definitely ramped up by that – and when I was finished, I felt a profound feeling that I had never felt before. I kept thinking about the princess. I was in love. I beat the game at 4:00 AM and remember sitting in my chair for almost an hour just bathing in a glow of the most inexplicable, exquisite feeling.
As the sun came up, I went out for a walk around my neighborhood in an emotional state which, looking back now, could probably be described as my first mystical experience. Everything in the world felt new, golden, full of life. I felt love in every leaf on every tree, every cloud, every rock. It was like the whole world was made of love.
I was, of course, smart enough to realize that she was just a character in a videogame. I’m sure a lot of boys would have continued to pursue her through anime and fan fiction. But I was smarter than that. I knew that what I was feeling was the taste of a love relationship, and that I could experience it with a real girl in real life.
The afterglow of this experience lasted for many days. But eventually I started to wish I had a girlfriend to experience this kind of love with someone in real life. I began to fantasize about hanging out with a girl at my house, sitting and talking, going for walks together, watching sunsets together, talking for long hours into the night, bringing her to my favorite activities. I even started to feel a sense of emptiness when I did the things I enjoyed.
They just weren’t the same anymore. I felt like I was missing something. And the more I enjoyed a particular activity, the more empty I felt while doing it. I started doing my hobbies less and less because it was getting quite painful to have a “good time” all by myself without anyone to share the experiences with. I started to dread having fun. All I could think about whenever I had fun was “This would be sooooooo much better if I was doing it with a girl.”
One weekend, my family was paid a visit by some cousins from another state – my favorite cousins! I had always enjoyed playing with them, perhaps more than anybody else. We had all the same interests and got along fantastically. This time, we played a board game together – Settlers of Catan – my favorite board game.
Here I was, playing my favorite game with my favorite cousins, and in the middle of the game, I was overtaken by a profound and crippling sense of loneliness and sadness. It just wasn’t the same. I needed a girlfriend. Nothing I did was enjoyable anymore without a female companion. I left the house in the middle of the game. I took a walk, attempting to process the incredibly overwhelming emotions I was feeling.
It was July, and in the weeks that followed, I felt very lonely. I even started to feel like I was going crazy from lack of female presence. There were no kids in my neighborhood who I knew (most of the neighborhood was strangely inhabited by old people), and there were no hangout spots for kids to meet each other despite being in a large metropolitan area.
Baltimore is like that. I had no idea where to meet girls, so I wanted school to start so that I could see girls again and have a chance to talk to them and find one to be my girlfriend. It was highly unusual – unheard of – for me to actually want school to start.
Summer was my favorite time of year, and I wouldn’t even suffer a person to mention “school” in my presence! They were required to say “S” instead. If a person mentioned “school”, I would correct them and tell them never to say that word. And yet here I was wishing for school to start!
But I wasn’t entirely idle. I tried to meet girls. One night I went to the movies to try to meet them. I knew that the movies were pretty much the only place where people my age hung out during the summer. So I plucked up a friend and went to go see a movie. He didn’t care about meeting girls and wondered why I was so adamant about doing so.
The entire time we were there, I looked around for cute girls to talk to and there weren’t any. It was a wasteland. Where were all the girls? After the movie was over, I did eventually find one pair of girls who had seen the same movie, and I went over and talked to them. I don’t remember what was said, but all I remember is that I left empty handed. When I got home, I cried. I was so angry I threw a garbage can clear across the back yard.
When school finally started, I felt like a kid in a candy shop. At least for the first few days. I soon realized however that none of the girls were interested in me. I was perplexed. I didn’t know what to do. I tried everything I knew of, and nothing led anywhere.
I started to sink into a depression. I stopped doing homework. I stopped doing my hobbies. I couldn’t bear to have fun anymore because the more fun I had, the more aware I became of the lack of companionship while doing it. My favorite activities were like torture. I slowly dropped most of them and dedicated my entire mind, life, and energy to finding a girlfriend.
Around this time, one of my friends met a couple of girls at a club (an underage, non-alcoholic dance club that specifically catered to 15-17 year olds). These girls lived in a town an hour away. I was the only one who had a car, so I drove him, myself, and one or two other friends down to their town to hang out with them.
It was a very adventurous thing to do at the time because the farthest distance I had ever driven was 10 or 15 minutes away in familiar territory. Driving all the way to this faraway town felt like crossing into the great unknown. But I did it and felt very proud of myself for taking such a risk to better my life.
When we got to their house, they had several other female friends over. It was really cool. They seemed a lot more laid back, fun, non-judgmental, and interesting than the people in my home town. My friend hooked up with the girl he had met at the club.
For my part, I was outgoing, social, and funny. My friend was shy, silent, and rather boring – but by the end of the night, my friend had a hookup, and I didn’t. I didn’t understand why. It was a pattern that would repeat itself many, many times from that day forward.
We visited that group several more times, and the girl my friend had hooked up with became his girlfriend. I felt it was smart for me to keep going there because she had lots of female friends.
I continued to be funny and outgoing, but for some reason the group started to make fun of me and even bully me a little – probably because I was the only single dude there, the only dude without a mate. Single dudes receive more disrespect and derision than any other demographic in this society. I came to learn that quickly.
During this entire year, I took a proactive approach to meeting girls. I didn’t really know what I was doing, as I hadn’t discovered Game yet, but I was trying, and I used whatever strategies I knew of at the time. Whenever I saw a girl who I was interested in, I found some way to talk to her. It may have been weird, Beta-ey, white-knighty, stalkery, and ineffective, but I was trying.
I took my fate into my own hands and went about doing what I could. I even asked a girl to the prom. It was very scary – prom was a big, big deal. I was so nervous when I asked her to go with me. I was so proud of myself when I finally approached her and asked her to be my prom date.
But she declined. She had a look on her face that was like “Um, why are you asking me?” It was like there were two categories of guys, in her mind: Yeses and No’s. And I didn’t fit either category – I was “N/A.” Not only did she not want to be with me in a romantic context, but the very thought of me in that context was alien to her – it didn’t even make any sense.
When 11th grade was over and summer came around, I occupied myself by volunteering for local political campaigns for the upcoming 2002 election. I was still a very passionate environmentalist and had even risen to become president of both the Recycling Club and the Young Democrats Club at my school.
This latter position was extremely prestigious, since I lived in a very left-wing liberal area, and almost every family was die-hard Democratic. I arranged for sitting elected officials to visit the school and organized events in which I wore suits and gave speeches from podiums and was in a pretty “Alpha” position.
There were girls in the club, and girls from outside the club came to the events to see the politicians. But this prestige didn’t do anything towards attracting them romantically. For some reason I was still invisible to them.
When 12th grade was about to start, I contemplated my situation. I thought about why I had been without a girlfriend for an entire year. I couldn’t understand why everyone else seemed to be forming connections with girls and I wasn’t. Everyone except for my group of friends – we were the girl-less outcasts.
There were many subcultures at my school: the JAP’s (the popular kids), the skaters, the goths, the black kids (I’m not a racist, but I couldn’t hang with the black kids because whenever I did, they would practice WWE wrestling moves on me), the goody-goody teachers pets, the nerds, and the Russian immigrants who looked like hitmen at the age of 16.
I didn’t belong in any of those groups – I was “miscellaneous.” Everyone who didn’t have a group was part of my group. I didn’t have much in common with any of my friends other than the fact that none of us had anything in common with anyone else.
And my friends were just as clueless with girls as I was. I didn’t have any positive role models in this area. But there was one key difference between me and them: I tried to get girls, whereas they didn’t really care. They were all of the mindset of, “Girls don’t like us – oh well, let’s play computer games.” But I couldn’t settle for that. I was a fighter.
I came to the conclusion that the past year was just the universe’s way of testing me to see what I was made of. It had been an excruciating experience because it was meant to give me a taste of suffering so that when I finally did find a girlfriend, it would be that much more special and awesome.
I concluded that whereas 11th grade had been crap, 12th grade would be golden. I would find a girlfriend and enjoy my last year in high school with a girl at my side.
But 12th grade went by the exact same way as 11th, except this time I was getting bitter. I couldn’t understand why I had been categorically rejected by the entire female half of the population. I felt trapped with no way out. I kept trying, but the anger of failure was starting to eclipse my hope for success.
When senior prom came around, I didn’t even try for a date because I was jaded, and I knew I wouldn’t get one. I developed an attitude of, “I’m above all this stupid dating shit.” I even contemplated crashing the prom.
I thought about busting into the dance with a bunch of water balloons and throwing them at the people. I was really starting to hate the world. At my graduation, I just sat there, miserable, ruminating on how much I hated all of the spoiled, sexually active sluts and jocks.
And it was in this context that I stumbled across Double Your Dating by David DeAngelo. As soon as I read his long marketing pitch, I knew it was for me, and I downloaded his ebooks. Reading DYD opened my eyes up to the whole charade, and I finally understood why girls weren’t liking me.
I was a “wussy.” I was putting girls on pedestals, treating them like queens when they hadn’t earned it and acting hesitant and non-confident. I was thrilled to find out that my looks weren’t as important as I thought they were, and that even a 5’2” socially awkward dork could transform himself into a stud whom women flocked to simply by changing his attitude and developing confidence.
Since there were no opportunities to meet girls during the summer, I bided my time until college began.
The college selection process had been a difficult one. I had no idea where I wanted to go and no idea how to even go about choosing. What criteria was I supposed to use when selecting a school?
I had good grades, scored very high on the SAT’s, was active in extracurricular activities and a talented writer, and I could have gotten into 95% of the colleges out there if I wanted to. But there were over 10,000 colleges in the USA. How was I supposed to know which one to go to? It was like staring at a blank page.
It felt like shopping for clothes – it was the same type of mindset. Whenever I walked into the mall to buy clothes, I felt clueless about how to pick a style. There were just so many options, and no one had ever taught me anything about how to find my own personal unique clothing style. So I just bought plain, simple t-shirts, shirts that had funny sayings on the front. Either that or I let my Mom pick my clothes out for me.
And so I ended up using the same strategy for college – I let my Mom pick. We visited about 4 or 5 schools, and eventually settled on George Washington University in DC. It would be a good choice, I thought, because I wanted to major in Political Science so I could run for congress and save the world.
In the summer before college, I read and studied David DeAngelo’s materials. I went to the mall to practice talking to girls and delivering cocky funny lines. Keep in mind, this was in the era before the pickup arts hit the mainstream – before Strauss’s The Game, before VH1‘s Pickup Artist.
It was so new and unheard of that the line, “Excuse me, I need a female opinion – who lies more, men or women?” actually worked. Stock openers actually got girls interested because they had truly never heard such things before!
When I got to college, I was prepared. I had an arsenal of cocky-funny lines, positive self-affirmations, attitudes and techniques, and success stories from other guys to keep me motivated and optimistic. I felt like I had been given the keys to a secret society, and life would be the polar opposite of what it had been up to that point.
As soon as I arrived on campus, I hit the ground running. I used everything I had learned from David D. I “used my amazing brain to figure out ways to succeed, rather than reasons to fail.” I walked around campus thinking, “I’m the Alpha male. I’ve got the secret knowledge that none of them know. I’m a rock star. I can get any woman. They all want me.” I repeated these affirmations constantly, and I adopted the body language to back it up.
And I was a star. Girls were into me. They were talking to me. Every time I hit them with a cocky-funny line, they would look at me like, “Omg, who are you?”, and they would suddenly start touching me and asking me questions about myself. One girl asked me out and offered to pay for my lunch! In every class, I talked to the girls I was attracted to, hit them with cocky-funny, and got amazingly positive responses.
In my dorm, I was a minor celebrity. My confidence and attitude blew people away, and I was popular for the first time in my life.
But I was afraid to escalate because I didn’t want to come across as “pursuing.” David D taught me that guys aren’t supposed to pursue girls – we’re supposed to just act really cool and let the women pursue US. This led to a sort of conundrum because eventually I had to show some interest, right?
I couldn’t just be cocky and aloof forever – eventually I had to drop some hint that I wanted the girl. But I didn’t know how to transition from one attitude to the other. On the rare occasion that I did, it would totally screw things up. If I showed any interest in a girl, things went quickly downhill. As long as I was aloof, girls respected me and pursued my attention, but when I displayed any interest in them at all, they lost their interest in me.
Eventually, this process played out with every single prospect, and eventually the novelty of “Mr. Cool” faded, and they saw me as just another guy. I kept meeting new girls of course. Every day I met a new girl, struck up conversations, and built up the attraction.
But I just didn’t know what to do with the attraction. I didn’t know how to translate that attraction into a relationship of any kind – be it sexual, romantic, or even platonic. Not only could I not have sex or romance, I couldn’t even make friends with girls. By the end of freshman year, I had not hooked up with one single girl, nor did I have any female friends. I didn’t have any male friends either.
Oh sure, I had acquaintances. I did extracurricular activities and clubs, mostly having to do with politics. Washington DC is a large, diverse city, and there was always something to do. I went to events, rallies, art exhibits. The students I interacted with thought I was a cool dude and would approach and say hi to me on campus.
People gladly sat next to me in the dining hall and ate with me. But they were only into my persona – my David D persona – they weren’t into me. They didn’t even know me. Nobody did.
All I had was my DYD persona, which, like any shiny object, is highly captivating at first but after a while gets old. After a whole year in college, I had not explored friendship, intimacy, or sex. At all. I was a loner – even though nobody knew it!
And I was extremely jealous of everyone who was doing those things. I would walk around campus, watching all the couples, wondering how they did it. How could they be so successful when they don’t even know any Game? WTF?
When school was over, I went on an all-expense paid trip to Israel, courtesy of the Jews. For 10 days I rode around on a bus with 50 other college freshmen and sophomores from various schools around the US. We stayed in 5-star hotels, ate banquet meals, had all of our activities planned out for us, and all we had to do was enjoy ourselves.
I was told by previous participants that these types of trips are prime opportunities to hook up with girls. I used everything at my disposal. I built up my skills, took chances, and tried my very best to connect with girls.
It all came to a climax one night while we were staying in a Bedouin tent in the middle of the desert. On this particular night, I felt so confident that I just walked up to a girl who was eating, sat down across the table from her and just looked at her without saying a word.
She immediately started smiling and giggling and asking me about myself. We made deep, sensual eye contact. I was feeling like this was it – the girlfriend I’ve been waiting for all this time! I invited her for a walk around the camp, and she happily agreed. I was sure this was it.
And in the middle of the walk, a guy came up to us and introduced himself. He was her boyfriend. They embraced. I didn’t give up, though! I hung around, hoping to find out that they were just kidding and she was really single.
But after a while, I figured out that they were a happy couple, and I wasn’t getting any. At the end of the trip, most people who wanted to hook up had done so, even the shy, quiet, nerdy kid. You know the type – every trip has one. The kid who everyone thinks is sexually hopeless – even he hooked up!
After 10 days, I was back in Baltimore for the summer. I met up with my high school friends, and we went to parties around town. Most of the parties we went to were high school parties – and I thought I had a better chance now that I was a prestigious college student. And I was right – I did get a lot of attention and respect.
But it was just like before – I didn’t know how to translate that into actual affection and intimacy. I kept a journal of my interactions wherein I listed the time and place, the name of the girl, the things I did well, and the things I could have improved on.
I regularly referenced my journal and shared it with a friend who also read DYD (I was the one who introduced him to it). Every party that my friends told me about I went to, and I talked to as many girls as I could. But despite all of this work, summer went by with no success.
Then came sophomore year. I started expanding my Game knowledge into other schools of thought. I started reading Ross Jeffries, RSD, Mystery Method, Juggler, and many others.
I continued listening to David D’s products, and had built up quite a collection of “Interviews with Dating Gurus” CD’s. I was very serious about it all. I continued keeping my journal. I still didn’t have any friends, and I was starting to doubt whether I would ever meet any girls through school.
So I took the next step. I “manned up”, and did something I had been mortifyingly afraid of – I started going to clubs. Clubs were extremely scary to me. I saw them as lawless places where a person could beat you up or kill you, and there’d be no consequences. Like the jungle.
I didn’t have any friends to go with me, so I went all by myself. I bought club clothes, found a hot club with a college night where I could get in, and one Thursday night, I showed up. I was almost pissing myself from the fear. I stood in line and was tempted many times to abort and go back to my dorm. But I stayed and finally got inside.
Upon entering, I saw the most extremely hot, sexy, dolled-up girls I had ever seen in my life. Every girl was wearing a push-up bra. They danced to raunchy rap music. There were go-go girls dancing on the bar. I felt like a little mouse.
But I approached. It was probably the scariest thing I had done in my whole life up to that point. I had no friends or wingmen encouraging me – I was alone. And I did it. After the first approach, I approached again. And again.
After that night, I felt really proud of myself, and I continued going to the same club each week.
Towards the end of the semester, I found the blog of a “community” guy in DC and emailed him. Very soon we were meeting up together and going to clubs together. I had a wingman! This guy was really knowledgeable about Game, and he taught me quite a lot. He brought me to the hottest club in DC, a place called Dream. For those of you who know DC, Dream was eventually renamed Love. That place.
I turned into an approach machine, and I had a lot of very interesting, confidence-boosting interactions there. After a few months, I had pretty much vanquished my approach anxiety.
As I started to meet more and more PUA’s, and they began to recognize me as “the kid who can approach any girl, in any set, at any time, and in any place.” I would dare people to point out difficult, intimidating sets of girls, and I would approach them just for the sake of conquering whatever little bits of fear still remained.
I also did approaches during the daytime. I approached on the campus quad, in the dining hall, in the library, on the campus shuttle, and on the street. I went to frat parties and approached all night. I did it without drinking alcohol. I don’t like alcohol and never have. 99.9% of all the approaches I did were completely sober.
I did, however, like a little weed now and then. And I got the idea that if I sold weed, I’d have stoners coming over to my dorm to buy it, and some of those stoners would be female. And I did indeed make plenty of customers, some of whom were female. But none of them stuck around – they just showed up to buy, and that was it. I tried to Game them, but it didn’t go anywhere.
I think they might have sensed that I wasn’t a true stoner – I smoked from time to time, but didn’t develop a habit. It was maybe once a week at most. I also tried coke a few times thinking that it would give me some super-heroic confidence with women. But after a few uses, I didn’t really see what was so great about it – it made me more aggressive, but I already had that part down. I didn’t need any more of it. I needed to learn how to connect.
In the spring of sophomore year in 2005, RSD came to DC, and I took their workshop. I met Tyler, Twentysix (Extramask), Jeffy (jlaix), Papa, and all the crew. They were impressed by my dedication and unwavering willingness to put myself out there and try things.
They seemed quite taken aback by my revelation that I was still a virgin who hadn’t even kissed anyone yet. I made copious mental notes about the RSD guys’ body language and attitudes.
One funny thing that happened during the workshop: I got to see jlaix develop a crush on a girl he met at the club who happened to be in one of my classes. I saw him get almost to the point of crying over how beautiful she was and how much he felt the pangs of “oneitis” for her. I was pretty amused.
The year ended with no results. That summer, I went to a giant music festival called Bonnaroo. I expected it to be the easiest place to hook up.
I wanted to be sure that I had what it took, so I bought a handful of doses of every kind of drug out there – mushrooms, MDMA, opium, acid, etc, (none of which I had ever tried) and put it all into a little bottle and carried it around with me just in case I met a girl who wanted to do XYZ, so that I’d have it to offer her and could chill with her.
But that plan hit a little snag when I got randomly searched by an undercover cop. He found it all, except for my vitamin pills which looked like MDMA and which I had several dozen of. I’m glad he didn’t find my vitamins, or I might have gotten into trouble!
Upon returning home, I stumbled across a post on some seduction forum by a guy named Stephane Hemon of the website IdeaGasms. Stephane talked about the intersection of pickup and spirituality and had devised a system for fixing one’s inner game based on new-age spiritual principles.
He was a protégé of Steve Piccus and DavidX and advocated a very unique type of game that blended yoga, meditation, the occult, NLP, and good-old-fashioned approach-spam all rolled into one.
He had a girlfriend who was bisexual, and together they went around Montreal picking up girls to threesome and foursome with. The newsletters he wrote about the spiritual principles behind pickup game were very profound, and I started to consider him my main “guru” in the field.
That autumn, my junior year of college, I signed up for his forum and began posting my own thoughts and philosophies. The other forum members were impressed by what I wrote, and I became the most popular poster, second only to Stephane himself, so he made me the moderator of the forum.
I continued to go around my college campus, approaching and Gaming girls and writing about my experiences on the forum to rave reviews. Even though I didn’t get any lays or hookups, the people there admired my courage, creativity, and persistence. I had hundreds of people rooting for me, encouraging me, and praising me for my devoted effort.
The following spring, 2006, Stephane invited me up to Montreal to visit him. This experience was one of the most eye-opening things that’s ever happened to me.
I took the train to Montreal, and when I got there, it was like stepping into a whole new world. Montreal was different from any place I had ever been before. There were the most incredibly, reality-bendingly attractive girls walking around on every square foot of every street in the entire city.
Have you ever had the experience where you saw a girl who was so hot that her hotness forced you to reevaluate your entire view of reality? Where you stared at her, thinking, “She can’t be real?” Well, I had incidents like that several times a day. I was completely shocked and stunned by the intensity and sheer neverending quantities of hotness walking around.
Having lived my whole life in the Baltimore/Washington area, I had no preparation for this. I used to think people – humans in general – were gross and disgusting with only a few exceptions here and there. My debut in Montreal showed me that the world outside of my home region is very different. I would never look at Baltimore or DC the same way again.
In fact, I was so impressed and delighted by not just the girls but also the general atmosphere and ambiance of the city that I decided to spend the whole summer up there. After my one week visit was over, I took the train back home, packed my belongings, loaded up my car, and drove 11 hours back up to Canada, where I would spend the following two months.
For two whole months, I hung out with Stephane, his girlfriend(s), and his students/followers. I lived in his old apartment (since he had moved into a new one and still had 2 months left on the lease for the old one) for free, the same apartment where his infamous Intro to Female Ejaculation DVD was filmed.
I went out to bars and clubs, walked around the Plateau-Mont-Royal, chilled in Parc Lafontaine every day, and continued my Herculean approach regimen. But after all was said and done, I got nowhere with girls. I didn’t even get one date. I got feedback from Steph and the forum guys, but no one could figure out what was going wrong.
I had to return to DC to finish up my last semester that fall. I had amassed enough credits to graduate a semester early, and the prospect of languishing in Baltimore until further notice filled me with dread, so I planned to move back up to Montreal as soon as my exams were over in December. And that’s what I did.
I’m not sure how I convinced the Canadian Border Patrol to let me through with a car full of furniture – I guess it was my absolute dedication to succeeding at this. I got an apartment in the Pointe-Saint-Charles neighborhood not far from downtown and continued my quest. I saw Stephane and the IdeaGasms guys less but occasionally hung out with them.
I ran into some problems though, mainly the extreme cold weather and the fact that I was an illegal immigrant who didn’t speak French. I couldn’t find any work. And the Quebecois girls were just not giving me the time of day. As soon as I approached them, they would pretend not to speak English even though I could tell they were bullshitting. I got very lonely, cold, and depressed.
One night I went out for a midnight walk in the park (something I do very frequently), but it was so cold I began to get hypothermia and almost fell asleep. I almost died. I wasn’t ready for a Canadian winter.
And on top of all that, I had a falling out with Stephane. I publicly questioned the efficacy of his techniques on the forum, and he responded by immediately banning me – the moderator – and refusing to talk to me.
I responded by calling him a cult leader, starting an ex-Ideagasmers forum and writing articles about his deceptions and cult-like personality. At this point there was nothing anchoring me to Montreal, so after a month, I came back to Baltimore. This was January 2007.
The entire year of 2007 was uneventful and depressing. I got a roomshare in Baltimore and continued hitting the bars and clubs, but anyone who knows Baltimore knows what that’s like. Having just returned from Montreal, it was like going from a Porsche to a jalopy.
I cried a lot that year. I got kicked out of the room I was renting for reasons that were never explained to me and got another room. I was kicked out of there too, again for reasons not explained, and then decided to move back to DC. I couldn’t afford anything in the city, so I lived in Prince George’s County…and it sucked.
I went into the District two or three times a week to meet girls and expanded my hunting grounds to Adams Morgan and U Street. But nothing happened. I had no girlfriend, no sex, and no friends. I was completely alone.
In January 2008, one year after leaving Montreal, I was invited to visit Tampa, Florida by an ex-Ideagasmer on my ex-IG forum. I flew down there for a week and hung out with this guy and his two female housemates who, needless to say, were quite attractive.
Just being in the presence of attractive girls on a regular basis was such a relief; it was like I was reawakening out of a dream (or more like a nightmare). That combined with mid-winter Florida warmth and sunshine gave me the hint that I should maybe move down there. It’s something I eventually acted on – although not quite yet.
That Spring 2008, I had a genius idea. I decided to become a certified yoga teacher! I had been taking yoga classes since college, and I liked it. It made me feel good.
And best of all, everyone knows that yoga classes are filled with attractive women bending over and contorting themselves into all kinds of shapes! It made perfect sense. If I become a yoga teacher, I’ll have automatic guaranteed access to attractive women, and I’d be in an Alpha-like position to boot! Scooooore!
So I took a 3-week intensive training course at an ashram in the mountains of Virginia. When I was done, I was a certified yoga teacher and began looking for positions teaching in Baltimore. I found a studio that was willing to hire me and began teaching.
But much to my chagrin, the client base was almost all middle-aged married soccer moms. I don’t think there were any single girls who came in. I taught throughout the summer and fall until the September 2008 financial crisis hit, and the studio lost clientele and went out of business.
A few months later, one of my friends invited me to come with him to Miami where he was investigating a medical school to possibly attend. I rode down there with him and spent a week in Fort Lauderdale, which is about an hour from Miami. We stayed in a very upscale area and spent most of the time chilling on the beach.
We also went to the famous Miami Beach where for the first time I saw female attractiveness on par with Montreal. I still prefer Montreal girls over Miami girls because the former have more feminine energy. The girls in Miami are extremely shapely and show a lot of skin, but their attractiveness is almost totally on the raw, physical level – they’re just hot.
But they don’t have that aura of femininity that the French girls have. A French girl can walk by me, and I feel her like a cool breeze, quenching the fires of my sexual frustration just by her mere proximity. Whereas a Miami girl is just hot and makes me desire her but not much else.
Nevertheless, the Florida sunshine coupled with the copious hotties on the beach reawakened my will to keep on fighting. I started to seriously contemplate moving down there.
2009 rolled around, and I wanted to move to Florida, but I didn’t have any job prospects. My friend the medical student decided to attend school there, but he wouldn’t be moving in until the following year. So for most of 2009 I just kind of got really depressed and started smoking weed more regularly since there wasn’t much else to do.
I visited Montreal again in June and spent about 2 weeks there staying with some friends who I knew from the Ideagasms days. It was a pleasant relief to be in the amazing ambiance of Montreal once again, and I resumed my attempts to connect with girls there. I went around to all the parks just like I had done 3 years before. I went to the bars and clubs.
But something was different this time. I no longer believed in my ability to succeed. I went through the motions, but I wasn’t really confident that anything would happen. I did it just to say to myself, “I’m doing it”, so that I would feel like I was working towards a goal, but I didn’t really think it would succeed.
I started going to bars just to sit and watch the girls rather than approach and talk to them. I still approached when I saw one that was particularly attractive and/or my type or when I was feeling a spontaneous breath of confidence. But I had very little faith that it would go anywhere. I wasn’t “afraid” to approach. I had long since conquered the fear. I just didn’t see the point in it.
In September of that year, I attended a hippie lovey gathering in Asheville, NC and was very impressed by that little town and its culture. I started to appreciate the small town vibe blended with the progressive thinking. I was dreading the prospect of another winter in Baltimore, so I said fuck it and moved down to Asheville.
I rented a room with some people I knew from the festival and started trying to fit in there. But it didn’t work. I don’t even know why. I love nature, mountains, forests, and hiking, and that’s what everyone’s into over there. But for some reason I still couldn’t make any friends. And the girls, despite being homely hippies, still didn’t want to get with me.
My strategy there was to meet people through activities rather than from spam approaching. I still did a lot of cold approaches in bookstores, crystal shops, drum circles. But none of it worked. I was empty handed and came back to Baltimore after a month or so.
In the fall of 2009, I had an…interesting experience. I attended the Free Spirit Sacred Sexuality Gathering, a large, famous gathering of pagans and alternative-lifestyle types that takes place every fall on the banks of the Susquehanna River in Maryland. I saw “Sexuality” in the title, and figured it would be a good place to figure out just what the fuck was wrong with me, why I was still a virgin at the age of 24.
But when I got there, I was greeted by a dominatrix in leather directing me to my parking spot, jokingly threatening to whip my bottom if I didn’t find the space. Umm, yea.
Much to my chagrin, the vast majority of the attendees were BDSM people. I saw folks walking around the campground in bondage gear. I saw a lot of extremely obese people, some attaching clips to their nipples and having their partners pull on the string. I saw people whipping their subs right out in the open. Eww.
I felt disgusted almost immediately. But I stayed. I stayed for the entire 3 days. Why? Because there was a chance, just a tiny chance, that I might find someone who could help me with my sexual drought.
Not everyone was a bondage person – there were some normal sexually adventurous people there. I went around to the various workshops, meeting people, sharing stories, learning new things, and hoping for the best.
And in the midst of this giant sexual gathering, nobody played with me. After three days of enduring the sight of naked leather-clad obese sex slaves and listening to their screams all night, I came out of the experience with nothing to show for it.
Then in February 2010 I traveled to Costa Rica to take a TEFL course to become an English teacher. I spent a month and a half in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. I wanted to learn to teach English so I could move to another country.
The thing that impressed me the most about Costa Rica was the number of lingerie shops in the mall. In one mall, the main mall in San Jose, I counted nine shops devoted solely to lingerie. I wanted to move there just for that. Also there were nice beaches and stuff. And volcanoes. Yay.
I visited all the sites by myself, and I was miserable. I climbed a volcano where I could see both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans from one spot. It was the coolest place I’d ever been. But I was miserable because I had no one to share it with. Just like when I was in high school, I couldn’t enjoy anything fun because the fun only made my lack of companionship all the more stinging.
I asked other tourists to take pictures of me beside the crater, as I was planning on using the pictures to look cool on Facebook or on a dating profile. But when I looked at the pictures later, I couldn’t use them, because I had a look of pure misery and bitterness on my face. I ended up deleting the pictures because there was no use for them. They didn’t say, “I’m adventurous and worldly” – they said “This sucks, why am I here?”
When I returned to Baltimore, I began training as an AFLAC insurance agent. I passed the Maryland insurance test and began selling. But I didn’t make a single sale because I didn’t believe in the product I was selling. I don’t believe in insurance. What the hell was I doing?
Summer went by, lonely and depressing. For the first time, I started having thoughts of suicide. I started seeing a therapist. I visited Montreal again, this time bringing a friend. I had been telling him for years how cool the place is, and he finally got up the adventurousness to come check it out for himself. We went to the bars on the Plateau, and he met a petite little Frenchie and hooked up with her. Yay for him. Why could he do it, but not me?
By this time, October 2010, my Florida friend had moved into his place in Fort Lauderdale, and I decided to make the move. I packed up my things and drove down there and moved into a spare room in his apartment.
At first it was pretty nice. It was such a relief to be out of the shithole cuckoo’s nest of Baltimore. I felt a sense of hope again, like I had a fresh start. I wasn’t depressed there. I started regularly approaching girls again. I had always been an approacher even in the most depressing periods.
But now I was once again doing it with regularity and motivation behind it. I got a job working at a Quiznos but found it incredibly boring and draining. Just then, my friend informed me of a tutoring company that he had done some work for and forwarded them my resume. Pretty soon I got the job and was traveling around Broward County, Florida tutoring elementary and middle school kids in math, reading, and science.
After a month and a half, my friend got tired of me living with him and asked me to find my own place. I stayed at a hostel for a few nights, where I met a group of Brazilian exchange students (college-aged).
I regaled them with my version of the Brazilian national anthem which I had randomly learned a few years back (don’t ask me why), and they thought I was awesome and amazing – the most funny and entertaining American they had ever met. Being with the Brazilians was like a constant, never-ending, childlike laugh fest. With hot girls.
They found themselves an apartment where they packed themselves in, seven Brazilians in a two-bedroom, which comes out to 3.5 Brazilians per room. It was 4 girls and 3 guys, and the girls of course got the beds, while the guys slept on air mattresses. Obviously.
And the apartment building was filled with Brazilians, all from the same exchange program. There were so many Brazilians in this apartment building, that whenever I visited them, I referred to it as “The Brazartment.”
I looked for apartments on my own and found one that was kind of far away from all the action. It was quiet, but I had to drive over 30 minutes to get to the beach. I got kind of lonely there. And since I was feeling particularly adventurous, and didn’t feel like spending a shit ton of money on an apartment, I got another genius idea. I asked the Brazilians if I could move in with them.
There was a slight problem though. “Where will you zleep?” they asked me. (translation: “Where will you sleep?”) There was no space in the apartment. So I used my creative skills and came up with the idea to live on their balcony in a tent. That’s right, I lived on the balcony. Well, it was more than just a balcony – it was more like a rooftop which their living room opened out to. It was fairly large.
And it overlooked the Atlantic Ocean, which was only two blocks away. So every night, I went to bed with the sound of waves, and every morning I unzipped my tent door to see the sight of the sun rising off the sea. It was a pretty good deal. I felt like it matched my sense of adventure and spontaneity.
But the female population of South Florida was another story. They were not impressed. When I told them about my living situation, they looked at me like I was some kind of bum. I lived there for five months, and during those months I was friendly, social, employed, and was running Game like the good ol’ days.
I talked to girls on the beach. I talked to girls in the bars and lounges. I talked to girls in the parks. I talked to girls in the Brazartment. I talked to girls everywhere. But no one was interested. I was invisible.
It was around this time that I discovered a blogger by the name of Roosh Vorek. The things he said made total sense to me. It explained why I was suffering so much – I was just in the wrong place! There was nothing wrong with me – I was doing what I needed to do. The problem was the culture around me. I started to seriously consider permanent expatriation.
But I wasn’t ready to give up on the USA quite yet. I reasoned that Roosh was right about the East Coast, but there had to be better people in other parts of the country – particularly out West. In the spring of 2011, I left Florida for a road trip that would last four months and cover over a dozen states.
I visited Montreal one more time (this time visiting Quebec City and points north – some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen in my life), and then headed out West. I drove straight out until I reached Kansas City, spent some time there, and then made my way out to Colorado, Utah, Arizona, California, Oregon, and Washington.
I had no plans – I just went wherever my intuition led me. I arrived at the Pacific in San Diego, and then slowly made my way up the coast, stopping for a few days at every major city and town. LA, Santa Barbara, Big Sur, Santa Cruz, San Francisco, Berkeley, Palo Alto, San Jose, Mendocino, Sonoma, Arcata, Eureka and then over to Mount Shasta.
Then I made my way into Oregon, staying in Ashland and Portland and then on to Seattle. I was going to visit Vancouver BC, but my passport got stolen in Portland. For four months I lived in my car and traveled with the wind. I was looking for a fucking place to live that wasn’t a shithole. I was looking for a new culture, a Promised Land. I was looking for a girlfriend.
I believed that there was some amazing, open-minded, slightly-hippieish-but-still-hot girl, living somewhere out in the West who was my soulmate, and I could find her if I just followed my instinct. I spontaneously befriended random people. I camped on the sides of mountains. I slept inside my car while parallel parked in towns and cities. I used couchsurfing. I did wwoofing. I searched on the Internet for events and parties, gatherings, and get-togethers.
I took baths in lakes and streams. I explored the redwoods, the deserts, the mountains. I went back down the coast again to Hollywood and the hills surrounding it. I drove the Boulevard and Mulholland Drive.
I went to Santa Barbara and walked the streets of Isla Vista, the same place that would later become famous because of another lonely, frustrated guy in a similar boat as I was.
While in Isla Vista, I remember sitting in my car watching all the hot sorority chicks and their boyfriends walking past me, brooding over how much I hated them for having lives of sex and pleasure…not knowing that there was another dude thinking the same things, probably no more than a few blocks away and videotaping himself thinking it.
I started heading back East again, first to Arizona. I played around in the canyons and red rocks. Then New Mexico, where I thought Santa Fe and Taos were really cool towns. I met a lot of cool people but just didn’t have anything to anchor me anywhere. I continued on to Austin, Texas.
Then Louisiana. By this time it was getting late in the autumn, and it was too cold to be anywhere up north. I continued on to Florida, then made my way back up the coast back to Baltimore. I was out of money and needed to stay with my parents again.
A couple months later, in February 2012, I went to Israel again to live on a kibbutz-like farm dedicated to sustainability and permaculture. It turned out to be more of a Zionist indoctrination camp than a permaculture education program. I wasn’t comfortable staying there, so I left and wandered around the country thinking that my “roots” would come into play and that I’d be able to connect with people there.
It didn’t exactly work. It just made me want to get the fuck away from Jews. One of the places I visited was the Galilee, and I stood in the spot where Jesus supposedly fed all the people with the two fish. I started to wonder if maybe my plight was so deep and hopeless that only Jesus could save me. I thought about becoming a Christian.
After two months of wandering around the “Holy” Land, my parents were getting enraged at having to keep sending me money, so I came back to Baltimore.
I saved up a bit, and then went to Hawaii. I worked on a farm there, doing wwoofing, but it turned out to be the most militantly feminist, male-hating place I’ve ever been. I felt like an indentured servant. I didn’t like the North Shore of Maui at all. It was like being a Black dude in the South.
The racism (from native Hawaiians) and especially the misandry from the White people were so incredible that I couldn’t stay. I assumed all of Hawaii was like that, and I didn’t have money to go around exploring all the islands anyway, so I came back home…again.
In the fall of 2012 I started using a dating site called FilipinoCupid.com. This was a major turning point for me, because it was the first time I had ever experienced positive attention from women. The girls on there were so sweet and talked to me like I was a human being. I decided to go to the Philippines. I did so in March 2013.
It was like having the entire fabric of reality turned inside out – everywhere I went, girls were approaching me! They were asking me out! They were coming over to my table in the food court and asking me why I was alone! And these weren’t prostitutes. I can recognize a ho, and these weren’t. They just live in a culture where men’s needs are actually important, and a man all alone by himself doesn’t make sense.
In feminist America, a man alone by himself is a good thing – it means he’s not having sex with women, and that’s good because he’s atoning for thousands of years of brutally oppressing women and therefore his frustration is a good thing. And also heterosexual sex is rape.
But in the Philippines, men are treated like people, and celibacy is recognized as the painful, suffering condition that it is. I actually had sex. Twice! No, scratch that… three times! Two of them were working girls and one was a girl who I had met on the website.
But it didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure how to tell if it was real or if they were only trying to scam me or gold-dig. One girl who lived in another part of the country and who I had been talking to online for over a month asked me to send her a cellphone in the mail so that we could talk.
A red flag went up, but I figured hey, it’s only like $25. If I get scammed for $25, I can live with that. So I sent her a phone, and sure enough, the very next thing I got was “Omg, I just got bitten by a rabid dog, I need $1,000 for medicine.”
And I didn’t even have the money to be gold-dug. I was almost broke. I was hoping to land a job teaching English or something like that, but Filipinos already speak English. There isn’t the market for it over there. So I ended up exploring another island and some mountains, and then went back home to Baltimore…again.
I considered going to another Asian country to teach English. But I had no idea which one to pick. I’ve always been attracted to Japanese culture…but then again, China’s really cool too. Or how about someplace tropical like Thailand or Vietnam? I couldn’t decide.
So I said, “Alright, I’ll go home and think about it for a while. I’ll meditate on it. Eventually I’ll get some profound insight on what country will be best for me, and then I’ll apply for jobs there.”
It was spring of 2013, and the weather was wonderful, so I decided to go and work on a farm an hour outside of Baltimore. A hippy farm. It was great to be in nature in a serene and bucolic setting. I really enjoyed that part.
But the hippies pissed me off so much. They were so misandrist. I remember a big butch lesbian loudly proclaiming that the next time she has to wash somebody else’s dirty dishes, she’s going to start “pulling off testicles.” She said it in front of everyone, and no one thought there was anything wrong with that.
I thought about saying “The next time I have to deal with misandry, I’m gonna start shoving broomsticks up vaginas.” But I assumed that would get me kicked out right then and there, so I refrained from saying it.
Nevertheless after three weeks, they decided to kick me out anyway. I’m not sure what I did. My theory is that I simply displayed masculinity, and masculinity wasn’t tolerated (in men) in that place.
Since I had sold my car before going to the Philippines and was without transportation, I decided to get a scooter. I bought a 50cc TaoTao, and called it a motorcycle. I started riding around town on my “motorcycle” and felt like a total badass!
Living in Baltimore, however, there was nothing to do. No social events to go to, except for yoga and yoga-related activities like kirtans and things of that nature, all of which were solidly feminist circles. There was nowhere that I could go to interact with normal, non-feminist people. The choice became one of two things: hang out with feminists or be alone.
So I chose to be alone, and I went forth into the wilderness. I set up my tent in the forest near my parents house, and lived in my tent from June 2013 onward. I used their house to shower and cook, but otherwise spent all my time in the forest next to a great big tree with five symmetrical trunks that looked like a temple.
I started to commune with the tree, with the Spirit of the Forest, asking the great Mother Gaia Earth Goddess to help me, to guide me. I meditated. I prayed. I cried out to the universe to tell me what the fuck I was doing wrong. I asked for friendship. For a social circle. For guidance on what country to teach English in. Anything.
I became more and more miserable being alone. I needed companionship. I needed someone to talk to. I needed friends. But everyone in the whole fucking city was a feminist (or a black-and-white-stripe wearing hipster who I find repulsive). I was starting to go crazy from isolation. Who could I hang out with? Who would hang out with me? And that’s when I got my next genius idea: I called the Mormons!
I called them up and got two missionaries to come visit me in the forest. They were really nice and friendly, and the best part about them is that they weren’t feminists! I decided to go to church that Sunday and meet the whole Mormon crowd. For the next few months, I hung out with Mormons, and they were my primary (only?) social outlet.
As far as their beliefs…well…let’s just say I’m not so sure about the golden plates. Dum dum dum dum dum! But boy was it a relief to hang out with people who didn’t see me as a second class citizen because I have a penis.
Eventually I started to wonder if I should actually become a Mormon. We started talking about baptism. I saw myself joining the church, serving a mission, spreading Christia- I mean non-feminism.
And I got scared that I was getting carried away and possibly making a rash decision based on loneliness and desperation, something I might later regret. I thought maybe Baltimore was playing tricks on my mind. I decided I had to get out immediately. I decided to put the Mormon thing on hold and think about it in a more neutral context, a more healthy context where I’m not lonely and desperate.
But I didn’t have the money to go anywhere for any length of time. I wanted to say goodbye to Baltimore forever and not have to come back at least until I had the stability to make it only a visit and not have to live with my parents. But there were no countries where I could survive on a budget of $600 (all my savings). No countries except one…
I knew lots of people who went to India and lived in ashrams (yoga monasteries) for only a few dollars a day – sometimes even for free. I figured I could stay there and get some relief and not have to worry about shit and take some time to evaluate my situation and figure something out.
And hey, ashrams would be filled with people who are open-minded, spiritual, highly adventurous…and some of those people will be female! A perfect chance to meet someone.
So in October of 2013 I hopped on a plane to India. At first I liked it. It was very fun and stimulating. The food was amazing. But the heat started to get to me. I took the train up north to Rishikesh, the “world capital of yoga”, which is in the mountains and cooler. I stayed in ashrams.
I went back down south I traveled to a few different areas but fuck I just want to fucking get laid and I can’t take this shit anymore what the fuck is going on why the fuck am I in India what am I doing and where are the fucking girls at and why can’t I fucking get a girlfriend or even a female friend or a friend of any fucking kind what the fuck is going on?
After three months, I ran out of money and began to starve. I found some nice Indians to take me in and let me stay in their house until I could come up with some money. I got a loan from my parents and came back to Baltimore…again…in February. Now it’s June, and I’m really reaching the end of my rocker here. I’m still hanging out with the Mormons (my only social outlet), who are probably the only reason I haven’t killed myself by now.
Last week I read the manifesto of Elliot Rodger. I really feel like his life was the same as my life. After all is said and done, we both got pretty much the same results. I put in 100,000 times more work than he did.
I took the red pill. I approached like a machine. I did over 1,000 approaches in the span of a year in college in the prime of my youth when I had all my hair, a decent wardrobe, and a universally recognized “bright future” ahead of me. Now I’m bald (probably from all the stress and lack of physical touch from women) and have no societal “place”.
I’ve done a grand total of 3,000 approaches (maybe more) throughout my career, and the only thing I’ve gotten from it is 3,000 pieces of evidence that no matter how hard I work and how many risks I take, I’m still not going to succeed. I almost wish I had never approached and never learned Game because at least that way I’d still have hope that I could succeed if only I were to try.
3,000 approaches and not a single girlfriend. Not a single lay. Barely even a kiss. It’s like I’m invisible. What the fuck is going on? Please, somebody, help me.
I’m ready to start teaching English in China or someplace in Asia, but I’m afraid that it’s only going to be my socioeconomic status and not my personality that they’re attracted to.
I’m concerned that I’ll be able to get dates but no physical affection – or if I do it’ll be short-lived, and girls will be dumping me left and right for the hotter, more sexually experienced English teacher in the classroom next to mine. I’m worried that I’m just “running from my problems,” and that they’ll just follow me wherever I go, be it China, Thailand, Ukraine, Brazil, or wherever.
Somebody please, tell me what I’ve done wrong. I put in the work.
Roosh likes to call people trolls for complaining about their situation and not doing anything to fix it. But I have done stuff to fix it. I’ve tried everything. I’ve gone to the ends of the earth. I’ve experimented and braved fearsome situations and put my reputation and even my physical safety on the line all in the name of conquering fears so that I’d be better able to attract women.
I did the work. And I want to know why it hasn’t worked.
One thought on “Repost: Game/PUA: What Is This Man Doing Wrong?”
The old joke: My first financial mistake was not being born into a rich family. It’s been downhill ever since.
With women, the first mistake is not being born a tall Chad.
We have some nerd overlap but my Homecoming question was not denied. Hell, I didn’t even ask her. She pursued me after rejecting another guy. I’m not that hot anymore but to some I am.
I identify as a white knight but I’m not a kiss-ass. I’m taken as very manly. Most guys I’m around offline are dumber, but online I’m drawn to intelligence. I find PUA’s rather cheesy but there’s wisdom to be had. In my neighborhood: I was the good looking, funny guy, athlete, most intelligent, brave, and least gay (my two neighbors played doctor). So the throne for the Queen of the Neighborhood was on my lap.
So this Jew wandered everywhere and had luck with a Flip. The Asian, even Eastern, eye is different. Warm as the sunshine for light skin round eye. Maybe try Thailand. SEA is this guy’s best bet.