Moods.

Well, guys...

This hasn't been updated in a while. I guess we all parted ways?

Anyways, I would just like to talk about moods, and how moods come into play when it comes to women.

For one, I'm in a relationship, and I'm satisfied. My girl is Dominican and I'm some Asian guy. Mixed babies? I think so.

But seriously, all of us need to learn how to control our moods and shape other people's moods.

Here's the secret to controlling moods--your thoughts. What I mean by this is that by controlling your thoughts, you control your mood. The way you think is a universal aspect of science.

Tell me this... If you saw the car you wanted and you kept wishing for it EVERYDAY, what else would happen? You'll save up money and get that car right? Exactly my point. People who want to game and get women with ease, but can't do it is because they are doubting themselves. I've noticed it happening more and more among people--even myself.

Whenever I go out, I tend to think to myself, "I'll get ALL of the chicks here." What happens next? I get all of the chicks I want. Why? Because I let my thoughts give me motivation, so I worked to get what I wanted and I got it.

It's just really disgusting to find guys who want to get women, but they doubt themselves because of excuses. There are no excuses for anything. When you doubt yourself, you aren't confident anymore.

By changing your thoughts and mindstate into always wanting and desiring, you'll shape yourself to get what you want because you'll work for it. Our society does work in this manner: If you work hard, you get paid for your hard work.

Remember that confidence equals attraction. There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Oh yeah, let's talk about identity and confidence. There are guys who dress like confident men, but however, they sure don't act like it. And again, it's pointing to the mindstate of negativity that they have.

You can look, act, and speak as confident as you want. However, how far will it get you? Some of the most confident guys I know just aren't as confident as I thought they'd be. It's funny because when I see them talk to other people or talk to me, they start closing up in their body language...

Our moods effect everything we do. When we think of something that makes us mad, it just makes us madder. When we think of something that we love, it makes us happy. Going out and smiling will surely effect everything. This mood, for example, will have people look at you as a happy or positive guy. If you go out with a mugged face, people are going to wonder, "Why is he so emo?"

So anyways, by controlling your mood, you can control your environment. By making yourself seem attractive by knowing you're attractive at all times will get you the many girls out there that you want. Just gotta say to yourself, "I want her."

Thank you.

-Gerry.

A State of Burgundy

Hey guys, man it has been a long time since I've posted on here. I love this place though and I've come to find the posts as a source of inspiration so I thought I'd let you all know what's going on.

I turned 18 last Thursday and it was fucking AWESOME. Here is the FR(more of a story) I posted on the community forums that me and Elektro are running now(check it out here).

So here it is, the moment I've been waiting for since I discovered the game.

Unfortunately it landed on a Thursday, but thanks to the guys who came out anyways:

Poodlez
Dom
Cholo
Charisma

Link: Special thanks to you buddy, wouldn't have made it home alive without you. Call me anytime you need a favor.

So without further ado, the story:

I was on fire all day. Since I got up in the morning from sleeping in too late(again haha) until I stumbled into bed at 3 A.M. the next day.

School was kick ass, had all the girls giving me hugs and buying me shit all day. At lunch we went and got scratch and win tickets and cigars to celebrate. Fucker didn't even I.D. me so I picked his ass until he asked for it ahah.

Work sucked, sat there at the computer all day reading training shit, whatever.

At nine I race out of the building. I grab some gas and pick up Cholo and race down to Union. We roll up at the first entrance.

So apparently there was no actual birthday list, the manager made some mistake. The bouncers let us through the line anyways due to the fact it was my birthday(and because of my superior negotiating skills of course).

Now I don't remember too much after this but let me point out a couple short stories I do remember:

Rolling into the club and my jaw dropping...man there were some hot bitched in there, I remember a smile growing from ear to ear and thinking...Hell Yeah!

Charisma buying me my first drink...Prairie Fire ( you bastard! ahah)

A set next to us opening somehow(can't remember if I opened it or not) It turns out one of the girls was also celebrating her 18th. I would bump into these girls lots after.

I remember dancing it up with some girl in a red dress, we were grinding it up for a long time and I remember trying to think of some way to SOI. I was too wasted out of my mind to think game but I had a wicked time with her.

Apparently the guys told me they were leaving and in my drunken stupor told them that I was staying.

I remember Poodlez bright ass red vest HAHA right on buddy!

I remember making pretty much every set in there sing me happy birthday.

Puking on the side of Link's car as he drove me home(sorry buddy!)

Apparently I almost got beat up by 3 black guys as I starting kinoing there girls

I remember gaming some set and I got them to buy me tequila shots =)

Apparently I called Jooga and told him the cops kicked me out, not sure if this happened or not but I was so wasted I could see it happening.

Some asian chick telling me she was insulted when I called her a lady, bahaha

All in all it was FUN AS HELL I am definitely addicted to the night game. I have decided to dedicate myself to it 3 nights a week! Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I want to go out with all of you guys as well so if you couldn't make it out with me this weekend, hit me up with you plans!

If you remember anything particularly funny about the night make sure you post it in here!

Thanks for the night guys. Prepare for some more competition in the field chodes.

I feel every single day I spent doing day game and reading material has prepared me for this. I roll into clubs and am more advanced than most of the guys who have been doing night game for a long time. Expect more FR's soon.

I also wanna hear more from you TJ!

Peace,
Burgundy

P.S. This is Shadow5a for those who are confused. Changed my handle a little while ago.

Getting back into it

So i am still in love with my girl and dont feel like picking up other chicks, however my friends are in desperate need of guidance and i have to get my game on to show them whats up. If you can read in between the lines, its obvious that i just want to sarge again.

I feel real bad that i havent posted for months but i have been really satisfied with my relationship and still am. I feel even worse that i wasnt able to participate in TJ's challenges. im sure they would really improve my game but oh well, what ya gonna do.

So this post is about getting back into the game. its been many months since i went out to activity sarge. I have forgotten like all of my routines and stories. I remember i used to have about 10 routines lined up for every new set i met, Now i have shit. My body Language has not changed since i became a PUA, nor has my alpha male attributes. Those things def stuck. So now i am back on this site, reviewing all the awesome material that has been contributed by all of you. Also wondering how everyone is doing. POST!

Weekend missions

Today, 02:28 PM

The Judge NycSargeTeam Member Join Date: Nov 2007 Posts: 134

It's the freakin' weekned Yo -- I have exactly 2 minutes to type this up as my boss is sharking around, looking to bust me. Okay, weekend mission: In addition to what we already gave you (must continue the singing/opening), you have an additional assignment for night game. 1.) You must go to a bar at 10 o'clock preferably by yourself and learn the name of EVERY person in the bar by introducing yourself. You may leave the bar after you've learned everyone's name, HOWEVER you must provide a COMPLETE list of everyone's name in your FR. If you forget someone's name, you must reopen them and find it out. Again, the ONLY opener you are allowed to use is, "Hey, my name's (your name)" and go from there. If a guy's acting like a dick, I don't care. Find out his fucking name. 2.) You open 1 girl with, "Hey I thought you were adorable and I HAD to meet you." 3.) You purposely blow yourself out 5 times. It can be as simple as saying, "Hi." and standing there awkwardly until girl leave. Go. Bring back seared chode flesh. Write FR. Make me and Zak proud. Best. Bobby __________________ But that man who sets himself the task of singling out the thread of order from the tapestry will by the decision alone have taken charge of the world and it is only by such taking charge that he will effect a way to dictate the terms of his own fate. Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

Week one: Missions

Will update this blog in more detail soon. For now, Golden assigned the boys their first week of missions:

TheGoldenChild NycSargeTeam Member

Join Date: Jan 2008 Location: NYC Posts: 123

Bootcamp

---

Gentlemen, you have all expressed interest in doing a bootcamp with myself and TheJudge. We have discussed it, and decided that we want to give back to the community so to speak. That being said we don’t expect any money from you guys. All we expect is that you push yourselves, do exactly what we say, and demand nothing but the best from yourselves. We are certainly going to push you guys past what you currently believe is your “pain” threshold. It is not because we want to be dicks, but it is because we honestly know what it is going to take to bring you guys to the next level.

Here are your first missions for the week, each is to be done seriously and written down in a notebook with your thoughts and comments about how it went down, and the feelings you experienced in your body during the course of the interaction. Some of these missions may seem strange to you but I assure you we are not doing this simply to embarrass you. These are all things that we have done and truly believe will help us to improve your game.

1) Forget everything you know, have experienced, or think you know about game, gaming, girls, etc.
2) Approach one girl a day singing one of the following songs: Airsupply “All Out of Love,” Michael Jackson “Thriller,” or Rick James “Super Freak.”
3) Do 2 approaches per day using ZERO canned material or routines. These are to be taken as far as possible. Do not eject until you are asked to leave or she walks away. If she is still there, you continue to talk. Rather than game the girl, you are to behave 100% normal and smooth (whatever your current notion of these concepts may be). No gaming aside, you should also be trying to move the interaction forward not by gaming, but by suggesting you get coffee, exchange numbers, facebook, whatever. NORMAL.
4) Finally, you are to read each of these posts by Alex~ (RSD instructor) over the course of the week as they will be your guide to what we will be teaching you.

We look forward to getting down to it. Again, we are going to push you guys fairly hard, but that being said, we are not going to put you in any danger, or any situation that we can’t handle (what you do on your own is on your shoulders). TheJudge and myself have committed to you guys which means you can expect nothing but our very best. If you follow what we say, there is no reason you guys won’t be pulling by the time we’re thru. Good luck gentlemen, results are due by next Sunday at the latest with detailed accounts of each day. If you have not been keeping up, it will be very apparent to us. Enjoy and happy hunting.

The Judge NycSargeTeam Member

Join Date: Nov 2007 Posts: 120

Re: Bootcamp

---

Quote:

Originally Posted by SpongeWorthy Also, which posts by RSD Alex are you referring to? Derek

http://www.alexattitude.com/

Read EVERYTHING on there. If you've already read it, you must read the entire blog again. Literally every post. Every word. Study every picture.

Quote:

Originally Posted by SpongeWorthy Where do you want me to record my journal? I would like to write a detailed report every day. The Judge said he had a private blog. Can I just start a thread in the field reports section, or even a blogger blog, or do you guys not want anyone else to know we are doing this?

Starting a thread in the FR section is fine. In fact, SW since you were the first to respond, I'm assigning you the task of creating the thread (give it a cool title...wow me with your creativity). We'll update the pre-BC challenge on there, so everyone post their mission results on that thread.

Secondly, as Golden pointed out, these missions are to HELP you. Both Golden and I have serenaded more babes on the street than anyone else in NYC. (Quick sidenote: You can also sing Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" as well)
Also, one of you (if not all of you) probably will get laid on BC. This isn't some BS promise or me blowing smoke up your asses. GC and I know the signs when girls are ready to get pulled and we're going to push you to act on it. Ultimately it's going to come down to a.) how hard you push yourself, b.) how much you want it. The more you put into this experience, the more you'll get out of it. I promise GC and I are going to put 100 percent, everything we got into this. We expect the same from you guys.

I know you boys are gonna make us proud...

...Now get out there and start singing!

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down.

~TJ

Operation Kill Chode

From my NYC Sarge outbox:

Alright. So here's the deal.

I logged onto NYC Sarge this morning and had PMs from all 4 of you. If I'm not mistaken, you all are committed to getting this part of your life handled at all costs. If I'm wrong, stop reading now.

Good.

Let me tell you a quick story. Almost 1 year ago to this day, there was a chode who just broke up with his girlfriend and came to the same realization as you guys. That chode said "FUCK THIS, no more" and decided he was going to get this part of his life handled, regardless of the embarrassment, pain, suffering, social alienation, time, effort, blood, swear, tears he had to put in, it was GOING to happen. This chode emailed a local pickup instructor and asked him for guidance. He couldn't afford the tution of bootcamp so he simply wrote a letter, trying to convey his passion for self-development, and hoped the pickup instructor would understand and help him. And the pickup instructor did. He took this chode out and destroyed him. Pushed him into sets he thought were impossible, demonstrated for him things that blew his reality, broke him down and then built him back up a sex-worthy guy.

That chode was me.

Therefore, I feel I owe it to you guys, as this is my 1-year anniversary in finding this stuff, to do the same for you. I'm going to give you guys a weekend bootcamp. In terms of money, this bootcamp is free (you can buy me drinks if you think I'm doing a good job), but you will have to pay for this bootcamp. You will pay for this bootcamp by carrying out the missions I assign you each week. These missions are ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY for you to come on bootcamp. If you don't do the missions, I simply cannot teach you. Missions will consist of doing things that are designed to push your comfort zones. They are designed to break you down. You must come to me like pliable clay. I have to sear off the chode filters and socially conditioned egos you guys all currently have. After 4 weeks of missions, I will be able to take you on BC and give you everything you need for a lifetime of success with women.

I'm not blowing moonbeams up your asses. Literally, do what I tell you, show up to bootcamp, commit 100 percent to this, and you will NEVER be same again. Deep identity level change. You will no longer be a chode. You'll start getting the rockstar results I know you're all capable of. Models, 10s, literally the ability to pull any girl you want, whenever you want. Meeting girls will become a JOKE.

But, you have to be willing to lose everything. This is not going to be easy. At all. you guys probably won't like me. The shit I'm going to make you do is going to hurt, going to make you question to goodness of humanity. But it's the only way I can get you guys to where you want to be.

Enough foreplay. Today is Wednesday. I am giving you until Sunday to decide. And I mean REALLY THINK about if this is what you want. I am going to DESTROY your old identity. You can't EVER hide behind excuses or bullshit or stories as to why you're not living up to your destiny as a sex-worthy guy. This is it. This is getting the change to step the fuck up and have to control your fate. Read my signature over. That's what this is about.

Here are the logistics. You let me know by Sunday (9/21) at noon if you accept my conditions. Missions will begin Monday 9/22. I will send an email every Sunday night, outlining the weeks missions. You report back, posting your progress of the missions AT LEAST once a week on my private blog. If you don't do the missions or don't report back, you don't go on BC. If you lie about doing the missions, I will know 10 minutes into BC (trust me, I can look at someone and know if they did the missions), and will kick you off BC. This is only for dudes SERIOUS about change. If you accept my conditions, carry out the missions, report back, and show up to BC, here are the dates of bootcamp:

Friday, October 24, 9p.m. - 3a.m.
Saturday, October 25, 5p.m. - 3a.m.
Sunday, October 26, Noon - 5p.m.

In the meantime, here are your reading assignments:
My bootcamp with jlaix: http://www.rsdnation.com/showthread.php?t=29670
My 30-day challenge (on going) with Golden Child: http://www.rsdnation.com/showthread.php?t=29782
My post archive at VA
My post archive on NYC Sarge
Read: Way of the Superior Man by David Deida
Read: The Power of Now (Tolle)
A New Earth (Tolle)
Watch the movie Fight Club


Updates to come...

Being Different.

Well, I'm in an environment where I'm the only Asian kid (who isn't adopted) here. Sucks? Nah. I actually like the feeling.

Anyways, I wanna speak about how being different helps with general value. Since I am isolated here, I've been experiencing a lot of cool things just for being different. As much as I hate being called different from anybody, it's pretty obvious if I'm the flame in the surrounding water.

Being different:

1) One advantage that I have is using my race to get to a statement. A kid here racially slurred me with, "Speak English." I, in return, turned that around on him and he got into big trouble with the multi-ethnic committee here. Oh well for him.

2) Being different in a non-diverse setting is really cool. I get plenty of approach invitations and interest indicators because I'm, well, different. Most of the girls here are really intrigued by guys they were never really around. A lot of high value males here, but none who are high valued and diverse as I am. It's really easy for me to approach and get shit tested. You know when you get shit tested, it means that she fuckin' wants you BAD.

3) Since I stand out so damn much, some people ask me how do I do it. Simple. Being different, (and not by just my race), I tend to live out of the stereo-types. Think about it. If I were to wear diamonds, wear Abercrombie and Fitch (I modeled there so I dunno how that would really work), and have a preppy style haircut, I'm deemed to be the typical rich Asian boy. However, I dress in business casual and whatever the fuck I like because I like the way I look in the style I wear. Most guys tend to forget this and live in the stereo-type of how they (as a group like a football player, prep, etc.) are generalized by society. Some girls may not like preppy boys, but if you dress preppy and the prettiest girl in the crowd is tired of preppy boys, do you think it's really that easy to talk to her? No, it isn't. Your value would disintegrate.

Having your own individual shapes how things work around you. If you're a cool dude, everyone would want to be cool with you because you're a cool dude. If you're a dick, then nobody wants to chill with you. Get my point? Being different is more along the likes of shaping yourself to a position where you're most comfortable with yourself and society and expressing it in a way where you're not at a disadvantage.

For me, I have a don't give a shit attitude. I dress like a movie star, I talk to people by giving them value, and I am known as being the cool guy around who girls want to fuck. Simple statement. Being different has its advantages, so if there are any guys who are still chode about leaving their comfort zones (the negative aspects of it), they won't ever have a way of experiencing their own individual.

Being different doesn't mean that you're supposed to stand out entirely. Being different is showing off your own expressions and attitude to the world in your OWN way. Don't wear a shirt that everyone wears because, well, everyone's wearing it. Wear a shirt that expresses you. Don't speak in another person's dialect. Speak in your own tongue. You get the point.

As for the attitude, I'm tired of meeting insecure dudes. Insecurity is so fuckin' overrated that it's not even a joke anymore. These guys swear they're cool, swear they're getting somewhere, swear they're gonna be a something; however, they're nothing. They don't know how to get past a comfort zone that has a negative impact.

An example I can use would be this dude, Jason. He looks pretty dorky, walks like he's anti-social, and has issues with himself. I saw a group of people here mess with him and I decided to do something about it by teaching Jason how to get women. So, I had a brief moment with Jason and I found out everything. Everytime I tried to tell him, "Hey look, you know you're still in your little 'zone'," he tries to qualify himself to me. From there, I spotted the insecurity. High valued males never qualify to anyone 'cause it doesn't fuckin' matter.

So, anyone who is scared of finding themselves, you guys need to really get out and explore. And when that happens, you've found your identity.

Thanks for reading.

-Gerry.

Bootcamp with Jeffy: DAY 1

Glory and Destruction: Jeffy Bootcamp – August 23-25 PART 1

“This isn’t summer camp to pickup girls,” Jeffy said as candlelight flicked over the blonde curls of his mullet. “This is BOOTCAMP.”

His voice pounded me with a sense of finality. Bootcamp had begun. The chode could no longer hide. Until that moment, everything still seemed like Summer Camp to Pickup Girls. Flying across the country, checking in to my hilariously bad hotel, walking the mean San Franciscan streets to the lounge, meeting the other students all seemed fun and summery. Even when Jeffy walked in, dressed in his blue non-woo button down, bootcamp still seemed like a point on a future timeline, an unreality.

“Fucking bootcamp,” Jeffy repeated, then reclined in the tanned leather armchair, letting the moment expand and electrify. I sipped my Corona and felt the sour bite of lime on my tongue. I tasted the air of the shadowy lounge. Candlelight danced over the dark, wooden room as the first crackles of nimbus surged through my body.

Jeffy leaned forward, began explaining what he expected of us as students, as men. He could only bring 7 out of 10 to this bootcamp. If we wanted a 10 out of 10 experience, we were responsible for our weekend, for our success, for our fate. The words Jeffy spoke were like electrons charging a capacitor. I felt like that green dude from Street Fighter who shoots electricity. I felt prepared for unbridled glory.

“There’s a cougarish two set behind us,” Jeffy whispered. I was already standing by the time he said to get up and approach.

Leering over the women and interrupting their conversation, I introduced myself. One giggled, shook my hand and told me her name. When I turned to the other, offering my hand, all I got in return was a scowl as my hand hung, unshook.

“Soooo…,” I continued, turning to the warm girl and began spitting nonsense. She giggled and matched my masculine nonsense with her feminine nonsense. It was on. However, the non-glorious, scowling friend kept interjecting with comments intended to offend and deter me. But it all seemed vaguely humorous and irrelevant. All that mattered was the moment and the feeling. The dawn of nimbus.

“How do you two know each other?” I asked out of habit.

“Friends,” my warm, nonsensical feminine girl perked. “How do you know those guys?” she parroted, pointing to our table, shimmering in the glory of Jeffy and my recently knighted brothers-in-arms.

When I recited the answer Jeffy wanted us to tell when asked this question, bootcamp would get kicked up a gear.

“Actually, this is a bachelor party. Our friend Jeff is the groom-to-be and we’re hunting for his wife. Tonight. At the bar. Once we find her, we’re all flying to Vegas so they can get married, then divorced. This is all so Jeff can change his Facebook status to ‘divorced’.”

Quick Zack Morris timeout. I am going to interrupt this epic bootcamp retelling to call attention to the absolute absurdity of the above paragraph. I hope the utter ridiculousness of employing one of the most sanctimonious and costly social institutions to authenticate the frivolity of a “relationship status” on a social networking internet site deviates enough from the average reader’s reality that you LOL’d or, at the very least, WTF’d at the abovementioned response.

Well, this was not the case for San Franciscan drunk ex-strippers.

Suddenly the previously cold girl came alive and leaned over the table, touching my arm.

“Wait, you guys are having a bachelor party? Do you guys have strippers?”

“Ehhh…no. Well, I mean maybe, if Jeff ends up meeting one at the bar and marrying her…”

“I don’t have my heels with me, but I have my iPod!” cold woman exclaimed. “I used to strip…I’ll give you guys a discount!”

“Umm…yeah, I think we’re all set.”

“No! You guys need a stripper! I will work your friend sooo hard!”

“Hmmmm…interesting. Well, maybe we can all meet up at the club later or –”

“No!” ex-stripper informed me. “We’re not meeting at the club! Wait, do you guys have a hotel room? We can do it there. It’ll only take a half-hour!”

“Yeah, I should probably get back to my friends…”

“Wait,” my warm girl chimed in, “I’LL meet you guys at the club. Give me your number!”

“Okay,” I said, programmed my number into her phone, and walked back to our table.

Smiling, Jeff congratulated me on a solid open. Not wanting to wreck the moment, I neglected to tell him about the whole stripper thing, figuring it was irrelevant.

Jeff got back to detailing how the night would unfold. After about 10 minutes, I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder.

“I want to see BOBBY,” I heard my name, spoken with unswerving certainty by the venomous lips of ex-stripper.

“Ummm…okay,” I said, getting up as if in reaction. Like Tyler said in Blueprint, the weight of a hot girl’s beliefs can seem very heavy.

Hilariously, as she led me like a prisoner back to her table, I heard Jeffy cackle and shout: “Pft! See, if she tried that shit on me, I would’ve been like, NO!”

The ex-stripper sat me in a chair and leaned forward like an interrogator with a spotlight in my face.

“Why don’t you have a stripper?”

“Ehhh…”

“You guys need a stripper. I’m going to strip for you. I’m even going to give you a discount.”

I felt the statements cut through me like gamma rays. She seemed so sure of what she was saying. She seemed so determined to melt me into a puddle of man-mush. This was a woman used to getting her way, used to destroying chody men. My nimbus wasn’t yet strong enough to repel her, I could only repeat: “You should really talk to Jeff.”

“Why should I talk to Jeff?” she snorted.

“Because…he makes the decisions.”

A smile crept over her face. In the candlelight, she looked like an evil temptress, like a sexy comic book villainess who delightedly minces men to their death.

“Yes,” she cooed, “I’ll talk to JEFF.” She spoke his name with oozing contempt. “You just watch! I’ll work your friend JEFF.” At that, she stood up and pranced over to our table.

“Which one’s JEFF?” she demanded.

Jeffy looked riotously ironic: slumped in the tanned leather armchair he half-heartedly raised his hand.

“SO!” the ex-stripper boomed. “It’s your bachelor party? You’re looking to have some FUN?”

“If by fun,” Jeffy grinned, “you mean fucking sluts in the ass than yes.”

The room exploded. The stripper hit Jeff with congruence test after shit test after chode destroyer and Jeff just kept coming back with better and better responses. In the course of 5 minutes, I watched Jeff push her off his lap, stick his hands down her pants (asking if her pockets were “girl pockets”), rub his face in her tits and ask “Mommy?”, tell her he was going to “purchase for her one fine bottle of red wine, and, perhaps some cheese”, all while not flinching a bit and completely owning the frame. I saw mastery firsthand. I saw sex-worthiness. And it looked gloriouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuus.

Eventually we left the lounge, finishing the seminar portion in a hotel room, and then hit the club.

Even though Jeff said just to be friendly, I was ready to explode in the club. I promised myself when I walked through the door, I’d hit the first set in sight like a fucking jackhammer.

The door opened…and…there were only three dudes at the bar and a table with (what we’d later find out were) two transsexuals. Non-glory times.

I ordered a beer and talked to Jeff as more people wandered in. At the time, my thought cycle kept repeating: You’re on bootcamp > You should be in set > You’re choding just talking to Jeff. However, in retrospect, relaxing and settling into the environment calmed my nerves, and, by talking to Jeff, I tuned in to his rhythm and presence, which dialed up my nimbus to state deluxe.

After about 20 minutes, Jeff looked at me, smiling. “Look. There’s a table of people in the back,” he pointed. “Just roll up, be friendly, try to start the party, and I’ll come wing you in a minute.”

“Yes!” I clapped my hands. “Awesome!” I spun and did a strut across the club.

If I could distill and bottle what I experienced for the 10 seconds I moved across the club, I’d have the elusive magic bullet elixir that could get anyone laid. Literally, my skin was surging with electric current; my eyes could silence throbbing music and freeze motion; my voice boomed from a drum in my stomach; the most powerful and primitive aphrodisiac radiated from every pore: NIMBUS. I was no longer under a jurisdiction dictated by the laws of science: my steps were light and ethereal, exempt from the tax of gravity; my brain rearranged the chemistry of my neurotransmitters so that every signaling molecule sang a war anthem of triumph; my biological body transcended its cells and organs and bones to become pure energy, a cloud of party.

I thought I had felt “the nimbus” before. I thought the on nights where everything out of my mouth was gold or I picked up some bitchy model or got a 30-second tongue down were “nimbus nights”. When I tried to explain this to Jeffy later, he perfectly articulated true nimbus, clarifying: “It’s like someone who snorts coke. No one who snorts coke for the first time says, ‘Hmmmm, I think I may be high.’ No! that mother fucker KNOWS he’s high cause he’s like wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!’”

To get all nerd and analytical about it, I realized nimbus (for me) is three equal parts: 1.) the woooo, 2.) core confidence, and 3.) 100 percent belief.

Back in New York, I had the woooo, I’d cultivated the core confidence, but my belief still wasn’t 100 percent. Perhaps I’d thought it was 100 percent, but I realized, as I walked across that club, that 100 percent belief is walking up to a large seated mixed set knowing they were either going to have to accept me as their leader or physically relocate their party. There was no way I was going to slink away a chody failure in front of Jeffy.

Closing in, I started clapping my hands. A toothy smile exploded on my face. I walked up to the harbingers of the group and shouted, “AWESOME!”

Everyone stopped and looked at me, amazed. Nimbus doesn’t put people in spectator mode; it puts them in freeze frame. I repeated “Aweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-someeeeeeeeeeee” until the hottest girl in the group jumped up and shrieked.

She ran up to me like a star-struck groupy. She was hot: blonde, skinny, huge tits, sparkly evening gown deluxe.

“Are you gay?” she chirped, “Are you gay?”

“Am….I….gay?” I repeated in mockery. “Worst. Pickup line. Ever. Get over here.” Boom. Claw. Actually, no. To label the clamp I put on this chickity’s shoulder a ‘claw’ is utterly misleading. The nimbus upgraded the civilian’s claw to The Embrace of Destiny, to The Midas Touch of Fuck.

I walked her away from her friends, talking simply for the sake of feeling the crackling energy of my voice. I paraded her to the dance floor. Pelvic grind times. I asked her name. She responded, “Does it even matter?” We start making out. Boner-inducing tongue down (or, according to the Jeffy Kiss Scale, a ‘Stage 3’).

As we’re making out, I hear Jeffy cackling. I see him trying to snap a picture. In between makeouts, my girl is whispering erotic nothings into my ear. For the first time, I start thinking logically: Do I pull and leave bootcamp after 2 approaches or do I throw away a perfectly good bang session.

My girl swivels to her knees and bites my dick over my jeans. I’m shocked, a little embarrassed, and completely turned-on. She wants to leave. I tell her I need to spend time with Jeff. But it’s me and her tonight. I’ll find her later. She asks me again if I’m sure I’m not gay. I’m sure. I’ll find her later. Me and her. Tonight. We go our separate ways.

When I return to Jeffy, he says, “That’s like when you’re playing pool and you’re breaking but you accidentally hit the ball in. Nice.”

While I was dancing and making out, I didn't realize the club had filled up. Cuties were swarming everywhere. I don't even remember how many girls I opened, but I do remember how many blew me out: 0. At one point, I realized I lost one of my peacocky silver rings and was opening girls with, "Find my ring for me." They obeyed, getting on their hands and knees, but the ring was lost. Oh well, I guess it's symbolic in a way.

I moved through the crowd like a trail of ignited gasoline. Whatever I did, wherever I went a party ensued. I wasn't even opening anymore; I was PARTY STARTING. It was like the instant I faced a group of girls, they magnetized to me - even before I spoke. One particular highlight was a group of Polish girls who flocked me. As I was speaking to them, these chodes kept piping in stupid comments as the girls blocked them out. I figured they were just linger chodes and continued to make the girls shriek and giggle for my own amusement and fun. When I turned to talk to Jeffy, one of the guys tapped me. With his shoulders slouched and a sad look on his face, he mumbled, "Hey man...I just want to let you know...those are our...our girlfriends." If a white flag of defeat could make noise, this is what it would sound like.

"No problem, dude," I boomed, back-slapping him as I surveyed the room. I noticed a chode grinding my girl (blonde evening gown) from behind. I walked toward them with the same impulse I felt as a kid when I played Super Mario and I'd get star power. Sometimes, even if I were past one of those annoying duck guys, I'd still turn Mario around and run him into the duck for the simple reason that I could and it's funny. I decided to ruin this chode's little grind-fest for the simple reason that I could and it seemed funny.

Without saying a word, I walked up to my girl, smiled, and commenced tongue down. Instant chode vaporization. We reconvened with inappropriate and salacious acts on the dance floor. Biting and hair pulling deluxe. Genital stimulation times. A boner for me and a doggy dinner bowl for the lady.

I didn't know what to do, so I went to look for Jeffy. I felt someone grab me from behind and say, "Look. One take-away, you're fine. Two take-aways, you're pushing it. Three take-aways and you're done. This is the second take-away you've done with this chick. One more and it's over."

I turned around and saw a concerned Jeffy. He continued, "You have to pull this girl. Now."

"But..." I stammered. "But...bootcamp just started. I don't want to leave yet. Can I pull her and come back?"

"I didn't say you had to leave. I said you have to pull her."

"How...am I...going to pull her...but not leave..."

I realized the answer simultaneously as Jeffy said, "Bathroom." He seemed to notice my concern and assured me, "If we get kicked out, we'll go somewhere else. Take her to the upstairs bathroom where no one will see. Do it! PULL!"

I've just recently got used to SNLs and feeling comfortable pulling girls out of clubs, so pulling a chick into a bathroom was not only out of my comfort zone, it was out of my reality. But this is why I came on bootcamp. \This is why I was born with a dick.

"Come on," I said, grabbing my girl by the hand. "I want to show you something upstairs."

"I can't," my girl said, "I don't want to leave my friends."

"Yeah," I said then initiated a passionate tongue down. "This is really important. We have to see this magical upstairs area. It transcends glorious...COME!" Hard hand pull and she's giggling and walking up the stairs with me.

When we get up stairs, I walk past the bar toward the hallway with the bathrooms and say, "Oh wow, we gotta check this out. Interesting..."

"Wait, this is just the -" Boom. Push her against the wall, hardcore tongue down. I pull back, checking for compliance. She's smiling seductively.

"Come," I say and try to pull her into the men's room.

"Nooooooooooooooo," she laughs. "I'm not going in the men's room with you!"

"Yeah," I kiss her. "Okay."

We do inappropriate and salacious acts outside the bathroom for about 10 minutes. She does her little swivel down cock-bite move again. Delicious. As I go to lick her neck, I notice a shimmering silhouette standing crossed-armed in the doorframe. Rays of holy light are shinning from his short, golden beard and mullet. I know what I have to do.

"Come," pull toward bathroom.

"Noooooo."

"Okay," more inappropriate and salacious acts.

Five minutes later: "Come," pull toward bathroom.

"Noooooo."

"Okay," more inappropriate and salacious acts.

Ten minutes later: "Come," pull toward bathroom.

BOOM. Pull to the bathroom. Lock the stall. Glorious, X-Rated times.

Pic Jeffy took right before I pulled her into the bathoom

We finish up. She leaves shortly after.

I find Jeff and inform him he's now 27/36. After a laugh and gentleman's high five, he sends me upstairs for more glory.

I bust into the first set I see - two girls - and immediately throw them both in freeze frame. One of the girls actually says, "WOW! You make a GREAT first impression!" (total chodette compliment) As I'm booming self-amusement and spitting nonsense, some chode scampers up and says, "Ohhhh...look at out for this guy. He's a PLAYA. Aren't you the guy who was just hooking up with some girl IN THE BATHROOM???"

Back in New York, I might've ignored this dude or used some elaborate AMOG tactic, but, to be honest, it just seemed vaguely funny and distant to me. My response was simply, "Hahahahahahahahahahahaha...Yeah, that was totally me. Anyway..."

Before I could start talking, the guy started in with the logical questions again: "Why were you doing that? Why do you bring girls in the bathroom? Where are you from that you think this is okay? Who are you here with? Why don't you go find them and leave us alone? This is a private party. Why don't you leave. We don't like playas."

Again, it reminded me of that Edward Norton monologue from Fight Club where he talks about everything seeming distant with the volume turned down after you've experienced fight club. The same holds true with nimbus: the guy was awkward and embarrassing but seemed small and completely non-threatening. So I laughed again, "Hahahahahahahaha...dude, you're funny, man. I want to bring you back to New York with me. I'll pack you in my suitcase."

"Oh, you're from New York? The city or New York state? Why did you come to San Francisco? What are you doing here? What -"

"Ah dude," I blurted. "You're like Inspector Gadget with the questions! Just chill out, this is the club! HAVE FUN!"

Eventually the guy chodes off into the night. I talk to some more babes and find Jeffy. Time to venue change. Time to shift into full creep-mode. The King Leer in me curls his tongue and sneers: "YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh!"

Out on the street Jeffy gives us new objectives. He grabs me and says, "You're going to push it in this club. You don't give a fuck and it's palpable. I can smell it on you. We're gonna do some Wiredrawn-type shit. You open, you isolate as soon as possible, and you go for the makeout." Full nimbus!

When we get inside, I open some throw-away sets before finding a girl who interests me: A tan cutie who probably works as an accountant or a similar office-related capacity. She's yapping with some rotund fatty. Time for glory.

"AWESOME!" I say, getting the girls' attention. "Aweeeeeeee-sommmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!" (My contribution to 'the community' will be my "Awesome Plowing" opener. It involves screaming "AWESOME" at varying cadences until calibrated to reflect your inner-awesome state.)

My tan cutie responds with: "AWESOME!!!!!" Yeah! It's on. I drop my Midas Touch of Fuck on her and tell fatty tan cutie's my new San Fransisco girlfriend. Fatty is flabbergasted. Jeffy comes in to wing me. I pull tan cutie away and parade her around the venue. Fatty is still flabbergasted. Some chode tries to pull tan cutie away from me. But the Midas Touch of Fuck is too strong. Chode removes his hand like it’s been seared on a hot stove.

I take tan cutie to what Jeffy told us is 'the makeout spot'. I go for the tongue down. Tan cutie scolds me: "You don't try to kiss a girl after knowing her for five minutes!"

My reply was simple: "Yes you do."

She laughs and says, "Wow! You're very aggressive...and I like it!" That confirmed and articulated everything I've learned over the course of the evening.

"Cool," I smile, go for the tongue down again and get it. We start moving into a Stage 3 tongue down. Boners away!

Suddenly a hotel chode rolls up and scolds us. He tells us we can't do that and we can't linger in 'the makeout spot'. We find a bed-like thing in the lobby and have a love-struck conversation. We call each other on our cell phones and talk. We figure out the names we will give our children. I go for the makeout, but she turns her head. Hotel chode made her uncomfortable. I plow, go for the makeout a second time.

"Why are you so impatient," tan cutie inquires. "I'm going to fuck you later. Just wait, I'm going to jump you once we're alone."

Epiphany-town. I've never had a girl so matter-of-factly tell me 'we're having sex'. It was almost as if she was annoyed she had to state it out loud, as if this was all implicit and understood by both of us. This is what sex-worthiness looks like. It looks gloriouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuus.

Then disaster struck. Suddenly Fatty from Hell appears in all her rotund misery.

"Your friend Jeff is a liar," she informs me. "I don't like him."

I laugh because this so hilariously laughable.

"I'm a total bitch," she continues. "And I don't like you, either. I'm also a cockblock."

I laugh, but I also sort of want to punch this girl in the face. As if she senses this, she pulls a wad of gum from her mouth and hovers it over my cowboy boots. She starts laughing and says she's going to squish it on my leather boots.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I yell. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"

"I'm a total bitch," she repeats. I realize, even based on this short interaction, this girl has cracked my top ten list of 'The Most Miserable and Abominable People I've Ever Met'.

I try to ignore her as if she were an AMOG but she keeps grabbing my girl and saying dumb shit like reminding her she's driving her home tonight so she can't go home with me. Then the two of them start doing weird secret girl hand motions, so I get up to leave. Fuck this shit. My girl grabs me and apologizes, asks me to hold on a second. A second becomes five minutes. I'm sitting there like a tool.

Finally I’ve had enough: “Look. Come to my hotel room now. Or I’m going to find my friends.”

“Maybe,” my tan cutie says with a coy smile.

“Cut the maybe bullshit. Yes or no.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!” fatty screams. I’ve had enough; I tell tan cutie it was pleasure meeting her. Maybe I’ll text her later. I have to physically restrain myself from slugging fatty.

The rest of the night featured more tongue downs and glory, but nothing very educational so not worth mentioning. Ultimately, we ended up at a diner to debrief and end the most insanely awesome – aweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-someeeee!!! – night of my life.

Number closing?

For the past few months, I've been giving out advice to guys as to how to #-close their targets and what 'gambits' to use. And finally it came to me how wrong we've been all along.

There is a new trend blowing through the PUA community that I dubbed 'Back to the basics', we've all seen it. RSD has been working on it for a while now, and you can see it in all the big names lately, the group I'm part of has recently taken a big U-turn in our discussions and tactics, it's all been going from Tactics to Natural.

My online wingmen have also caught the bug, Checkers and Hengman, and actually Checkers being my sounding board led me to my recent state of mind.

Things like 'State' and 'Frame' just come down to a high self esteem and being happy with who you are and getting it on with yourself.

Because what happens after a while ? We develop, slowly but carefully, a better, more structured picture of ourselves in our mind. Our stutter changes into a confident boom, the nervous hands-in-pocket turns into a confident swagger.

Routines, gambits and mind games are good to start with, but with more time spent in the field, you gradually forget to use them. And by this, I mean priorities change. See, going into a set after months of practice, you stop thinking about 'opening' and 'negging', you think about vibing and how to connect. It becomes a people thing, instead of target practice.

When you are ready to enter a set just to vibe and meet them, you're above things like cellphone gambits to get numbers, you already have the balls to do whatever you want at this stage!

So now I think back to all my #-closes since this journey started up until this point, and the stages are as follows.
1) 'Hey, I'm gonna meet my friends so what's your number and we can meet up later?"
2) Pick up my cellphone in A3 and pretend to read a text, then 'Oh hey what's your number'
3) 'Feeling adventurous? Get out your phone'
4) 'Give my your number, you're cute'

The last one I've been using while brandishing my brass balls with great success and led to a girl that never ever gives out numbers, or real numbers, to give me hers...that girl is now my girlfriend and still brings up that moment.

So I've stopped believing in gambits and teaching newcomers to use silly tactics to number close, from now on lesson no1 is always the same. Self confidence.

Killing A Sticking Point

Hey guys, I know I haven't been posting a lot lately but this post should make up for it =p.

Now I haven't posted about it on here but one of my toughest sticking points was approaching when I was alone. This was killer because my main wing is in Portugal and I really don't have a lot of time to go out and "sarge"

So heres the report I posted on my local community (which is really starting to grow, I'm so proud of them!)

I feel like I made some real progress today.

I also think I learned one of the most important lessons in my game.

I have a routine every morning and one of the habits I've gotten into is writing on my forearms. These normally have to do with some sticking point/obstacle of mine. Lately the two mantras I've been tracing into my skin are:

Focus
Power
Action
Control

Pull the Trigger

These shouldn't have to be explained but I've mentioned earlier I was having problems approaching solo. Every day I've been trying to get over this. Speeding my way to the bus stop (late as usual) this morning I see a potential lone wolf sitting at my bus stop. I was almost instantly reminded of Fionns greyhound sarge and I was thinking that to execute this properly I would have to talk to her before the bus came. That way I could isolate on the bus.

I'm walking up, over thinking, fidgeting...there's a big black guy with purple and green shoes next to her...focus Peter!

I stand next to her...god damn it's hot out...I fidget in my backpack, throw my sweater in there...focus!

I look at her, my excuse mechanism says "she could be a little young"

My logic mechanism says "Your a retard...say something"

The bus comes, I pussy out.

I don't sit next to her I just ignore that the whole thing happened. I'm pissed off at myself and I start reading my A+ material. I can't focus though, I'm still way too disappointed in myself. There is no reason logical reason why I couldn't have just opened my mouth and said "hey, whats your name?"

I get to Clairview and my heart starts racing again. If she gets on the train I have another approach opportunity. I slow down and let her walk ahead of me. I watch where shes going...she takes a right, up to the train.

The AA turns on again but this time I remember thinking: "This is fucking bullshit, how the fuck can I organize a forum devoted to Pickup, post under the ego of RonBurgundy and not approach a fucking HB8?" I remembered Charisma and Picasso's field reports, I remembered Damatick posting about his first time out, teaching Futurefast to open and Fionn making out with a girl on a greyhound bus I remembered HBNerdGlasses(you guys won't get that one)and I said "aww...fuck this," I actually said that.

So really it was you guys who pushed me into this, now all I'm thinking is just "Pull the trigger, pull the trigger"

We get on the train

Pull the trigger

I sit across from her

Pull the trigger

Eye contact

Pull the fucking trigger!

RB: "Hey" (I know favor direct game)

HB: "Hey"

RB: "Whats your name?"

HB:"Jade"

Hand shake, eye contact...shes testing for strength,

I give it to her,

RB:"Peter"

And that was it, and I was happy. This was probably only the second solo approach I've ever made.

Now this is where it got weird. I got back to happily reading my material when I noticed her tossing her hair. Now this is a classic IOI and I thought maybe it was just hot out or something. However, she kept doing it, I mean over and over again, it was ridiculous!As we got to Churchill she got up, smiled and said "see ya" in the mousiest little voice.

This is when it hit me, and when I say that it hit me I mean like a fucking bus over a grandma.

She was waiting for me to talk to her the entire time! She WANTED me. Now I can't count the times that I've read in seduction material:

She wants you

She is dying for you to talk to here

Blah blah blah

But it wasn't until now that it fully clicked, and I think that this will truly help me with my solo sets, in fact I opened two more sets today by myself (sorta, more on this later).

Anyways guys, these girls are waiting for you to meet you! That's what I learned today, these guys (and I) want you to approach them and sweep them off their feet.

Another lesson today:

I was busing home with a guy from work (I've actually been thinking about lending him a certain book of mine, he's a horrible AFC and I feel I can help him), and were in the LRT when two girls come down. I can see him eying them but he has a hard time communicating due to speaking poor English but I would tell what he was talking about. They weren't great looking but I really wanted to show him some possibilities.

We get on the train and I make sure to get on the same car as the set. With KD following behind me I set off with fire in my eyes. The set sits down and the girl on the outside puts her feet up on the seat:

Pull the Trigger

Boom

RB: Oh fine, just put your feet there, it's not like I was gonna sit there! (not exactly what I said, something like that).

Now as I was about to sit down the girl had been in the process of putting her feet down, but as I opened she ostentatiously threw her feet out.

RB: Pssh, ya right! I go caveman on her ass and throw them off, I sit down

RB: What's your guys' names?

HB7Braces: I'm HB7 Braces Hand shake

RB: I'm Ron Burgundy, and this is my good looking friend KD!

UgMajorCockBlock: I don't have a name

From here on the set ran well. To tell you the truth I wasn't that interested in the set. Especially after they had shown that they were obnoxious drunk girls. There is nothing sexier than a perfectly sober proper lady, and nothing more unattractive than a obnoxiously drunk chick. However...they were good practice, especially with UgMajorCockBlock constantly shit testing and obstacaling me. I pulled some cold reading on the cock block, told her I knew when she was lying, fished a challenge that she was a wicked liar, than played the five questions game with the target and one of course =).

Perfect IOI's from HB7Braces after that, I'm sure I could have had the close but like I said, definitely not attracted to them.

I learned here: I hate gaming drunk chicks! They are so had to manage it is ridiculous. They are constantly bouncing around and losing focus.

All in all, a good day, and KD was definitely interested when he left the train car =)

There it is!

I've noticed that our community has sort of died down, and that's really too bad. We have a valuable team set up here I think. With TJ and Khaki and Hengman, Decibel, I-Man I think we can really help each other grow...lets get it together guys!

-Shadow

FR: Date with HB 9.5 Nerd Glasses, co-starring Decibel (in WWDbD?)

TJ's NOTE: Hey guys. So after talking to Jeffy about my upcoming BC and reading his old (hilarious) LRs and FRs, I'm inspired to write out my progress in more of a "community format" for mah boyz (you guys). I'm still gonna write (and maybe post) and more "artsy" memoirish blogs, but I'm also gonna write the nonsense and drivel FRs we've all come to know and love.


The initial PU of HB9.5Nerd Glasses went down the week before when I was out with Dave the Natural and Eddie the Man Whore. (Both Dave and Eddie MW are NOT community guys.) So we're at this shadowy club on the Lower East Side with a booming DJ and people everywhere. Eddie and I are systematically moving through the dance floor, grabbing girls, spitting nonsense, than moving on. Eddie is drunk and getting blown out left and right for opening with overtly sexual remarks. I'm just enjoying myself and basking in the hilarity of it all.

Then I see her.

For the first time in a while, I feel a funny tinge in the pit of my stomach. It's not approach anxiety, but it's not unlike AA. It's something like anticipation anxiety. It's the anticipation that the girl I'm looking at, who's tall, brunette, model good looking with those sexy thick-rimmed nerd glasses may or may not be my dream girl.

But I don't harp on these thoughts, I move.

TJ: (Tap, tap tap) HEY! I had to come over and meet you. Check out my big brother over there (points to Eddie), I'm teaching him dance moves and it's AWESOME.

HB Nerd Glasses: (Looks at TJ like he's retarded)

TJ: Yeah, so my big bro and I are having a danceoff later. Right in the middle of the bar. It's gonna be so glorious.

HB Nerd Glasses: (Points to ears) I can't hear you! The music is too loud!

This may or may not be a shit test. And I may or may not have tolerated this from a girl of lesser beauty. But I look into HB Nerd Glasses eyes and I know what I have to do. I have to flail my hands like I'm having seizure in a pantomime of sign language.

TJ: (Starts making absurdly idiot hand gestures)

HB Nerd Glasses watches for a moment, scowling. It's as if she's trying to decide if this is lol-worth or drink-in-the-face-worthy. When she starts cracking up and signing back to me. I'm in.

HB Nerd Glasses: (Into TJ's ear) I'm a teacher!

TJ: Yeah cool, I'm an assassin.

HB Nerd Glasses: Your ass hurts? What?

TJ: Yeah I'm a writer.

HB Nerd Glasses: COOL!

Boom, it's on. We start chatting nonsense. If I were Steven Spielberg, here's where I'd cue in the Jaws theme. Eddie is literally circling around HB Nerd Glasses and I looking for something to do. When one of HB Nerd Glasses' friends comes back with a drink, Eddie is on her. And blown out in record time (for apparently saying: "So it looks like our friends like each other. There's a women's bathroom over there. Wanna get freaky???") Eddie gets slapped. Then the friend tells HB Nerd Glasses. HB Nerd Glasses tells Eddie to fuck himself. HB Nerd Glasses tells me, "I like you, but we gotta go. BYE!" I grab her wrist and say, "Yeah so we're hanging out. Put it in." and shove my phone in her hand. She angrily programs her number in, hands me the phone back, and tells me her name. I'm thinking, "This is probably a fake number."

Total time of initial pickup: Under 5 minutes.

So, 2 days later, I'm going through all the numbers I got over the weekend and call HB Nerd Glasses. Goes to VM with sexy robot woman voice. No idea if this is HB Nerd Glasses VM but I figure whoever I called must get a hilarious VM played to the hilt. So I go:

TJ: Yooooo...what's up DORK....it's TJ the sexy, sexy man from Saturday night...yeah, so I'm calling because I was curious what your voice actually sounded like...you sign sooooo sexy...anyway, robot lady has a sexy voice, too...talk to you later."

No call that night. The next evening, when I get out of the shower, I see I have a missed call on my phone from HB Nerd Glasses. I'm still skeptical (honestly, the initial PU went down so poorly, I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd given me an ex-bf's number or some shit). Call her back and it goes to robot woman again. Great. I leave no VM this time.

About an hour later I get a call back. HB Nerd Glasses! I immediately stack and talk about my night. She doesn't sound that interested. We talk about her being a teacher in a really bad neighborhood. I compare her to Michelle Phifer from Dangerous Minds. She does not find this humorous. I suggest she play Coolio's Gansta's Paradise everytime she comes into class. She does not find this humorous. She tells me in her grammar school, all the "cool guys" coordinated and shaved "Gansta's Paradise" into their heads. I find this absolutely fascinating and ask her which guy got the apostrophe. I'm like, "What guy would go into a barber shop and get a grammatical symbol shaved into his head? Seriously, this is not normal. You come from a very strange place." She is now getting offended. I try to vibe on some other topics. I think the shit I'm saying is hilarious, but she's disinterestedly listening then saying "Yeah" or "Okay". Then, abruptly she goes: "I'm cutting this short. I gotta go. We'll hang out next week. BYE!" CLICK. wtf? It's like she read DYD or some shit.

Anyway, I call her Sunday night at 10 because she was so rude last time. Goes to VM again and I'm thinking "flake!" and called some other babes. When I'm on the phone with another chickity, she texts me something about watching Army Wives and can't talk, let's just make plans on text. I'm like Army Wives? wtf?! But make plans. I tell her be on the East Side at 8. She wants me to go to a movie in the park with her. I actually want to do this (it's free AND you can bring booze) so I agree. I tell her to "wear something cute so we match". For the first time, she comes alive, texting back something to the effect of "LOL, yeah that's sort of a given." It's on.

So Monday night rolls around and I have to stay at work late. Amazing because all day I'm sitting around twiddling my dick, reading Jeffy Lay Reports at my desk, but at 3:30 I'm instructed to write something that will take all night. I'm like "fuck this shit" and try to communicate that sentiment to my boss. She informs me I will be catching the later train.

After I finish writing some nonsense, I hop on the train, nap on the way home, then shotgun my way out of my apartment. I get a text from HB Nerd Glasses all ominous and shit like "Meet me at dusk". wtf?

I grab a bottle of wine and jump on the F train. She texts me something like, "You can thank me for being awesome and getting us amazing seats by bringing some good wine." I go all Jeffy on her and say "You're glorious, like a baby polar bear sliding down a rainbow into a pot of gold. Getting in the limo now, see you in 20." She did not find this text message humorous and made sure to tell me several times throughout the night. When I get out of the subway, I get a text from her saying her friend stopped by for a few but isn't staying. I'm like FUCKKKKKK. I've actually lost 3 day twos because a girl "surprised me" by bringing a friend and/or sister in tow.

When I get to the park, it's like fucking Woodstock. A million people. I call her and she says, "Look for the two hot girls." I tell her, "Fuck that shit, get up a do a dance for the one hot guy on the cell phone." She spots me. Does a dance. DAMN. I initially thought she was a 9 in a dark club but she's actually HOTTER in the light. HB9.5! But no nerd glasses tonight. I immediately call her on it. Her friend is actually really hot, too. A solid 8. I talk to both of them and it goes ok. When the friend leaves, I start bombing a little. Not so much bombing as just not doing anything awesome. I'm having "nice guy" conversation with HB Nerd Glasses and not pumping her BT. During the movie, she keeps pouring me wine (she brought her own bottle) so I'm getting pretty hammered. I kino her and she's pretty clamly about it. She won't give me her hand. She won't lean into me. Surprisingly, the micocalibration from MoM worked pretty well as everytime she IOD'd me, I'd lay back, close my BL to her, and watch the movie. I noticed she'd respond by leaning toward me and opening her BL. This tug-of-war nonsense went on during the entire movie. We joked a little about the movie and it seemed to be going ok. At one point, I start moving my fingers up and down her waist, drawing lines over her panty line. She turned to me and very matter-of-factly said, "I don't feel comfortable with that." I responded, "Cool" and turned to the movie. At one point, I text a bunch of PUAs in my phone to give me some motivation (whenever I'm bombing like this, I like to think of all you guys as a support group motivating me not to be a chode). While I'm a HUGE fan of the quick escalation even if it's impossible, I feel that a miscalibrated makeout attempt could sink my shoddy performance. I keep thinking, "Okay, just get her out for a drink after the movie and it's wash, rinse, repeat." The movie ends (ironically, it was an old black-and-white movie and the last scene is a ship getting bombed the fuck out...I found it somewhat symbolic of my night). As she's getting her blanket together, I go, "Let's go for drinks!" She wants to know where. The only place I can think of is an over-priced hotel bar across the street. She says, "Okay, only one drink though." "No shit, it's a school night," I tell her. This makes her laugh, we leave. Halfway there, she realizes she forgot her bag. She runs back. The bag is gone. She starts flipping out. To my credit, I got her to forget the bag and come to the hotel bar.

In the hotel bar, things are not great. In fact they're awful. To get her to forget that stupid bag, I made up all this bullshit how there's a brewery in the hotel bar and they have all this exotic European beer she has to try (one of our commonalities is she loves beer...+2 points). When we get there, she takes off for the bathroom and I start talking to the waitress. They only have shitty domestic beers. The waitress is pretty hot, so I run a little attraction material on her then say, "Look...see the girl I walked in with...I'm on a first date with her and it's going awful...like embarrassingly bad...I'm trying to salvage this and I told her you guys serve exotic beer on tap...can you pour some Bud lites into a pint glass and make it look all exotic...like throw some limes in there or some shit..." She cracks up and high fives me. Tells me not to worry about it.

When HB Nerd Glasses comes back, I take off for the bathroom. I figure if HB Hot Waitress is cool, she'll socially proof me to HB Nerd Glasses while I'm off in the bathroom. I'm so drunk at this point, I just start wandering around the hotel, pissing everyone off. At this point, I randomly called Decibel for absolutely no reason. It's pretty funny how I've been reading this guys stuff for such a long time and feel like I know him, yet the first time we talk on the phone is when I'm ripped to the tits on a bad date at a hotel bar. I don't remember what Decibel said, but it made me happy. I remember something about kino and not to fall into the boyfriend frame. When I say back down with HB Nerd Glasses, she says, "Look, I'm trying to figure out if we vibe. You're sort of creepy with all the touching. I never do that on the first date." Hilarious because all the advice Db gave me pretty much went out the window with that little statement. At this point, I'm drunk and just not in the mood for bullshit so I just start saying whatever's on my mind, even if it sounds totally AFC, I'm like, "Look HB Nerd Glasses...I like you...no secret there...okay? I think you're a cool chick...and not just because you're hot..I mean yeah, you're hot, too but I like that you're passionate about shit...I meet all these scumbag girls who are hot and models and shit but they piss me off...I think you're awesome, this has been a fun night...for me, anyway..." I guess the way I said this wasn't AFC since I was almost saying it in a pissed off, end-of-my-rope sort of way. HB Nerd Glasses perked up and, as if to remedy all her prior rudeness, goes, "Look...you touch me a lot..and that's weird...but I feel comfortable around you...it's like you don't care if I tell you to stop...and you do...that's good...and I like talking to you...I want to go out with you again...I wanted to give you a chance and I'm glad I did." I'm like wtf is this? This chick trying to put me on the trial boyfriend program?? Of course, being drunk and having these thoughts caused me to systematically ruin the moment by blurting out, "LOOK HB NERD GLASSES! At least I'm upfront about this touching shit...GOD, you want me to be like every other guy and pretend I don't have a dick?! Like I'll get you alone somewhere and spring on you 'SURPRISE!!! I HAVE A DICK!!!!'" This did not go over well. I remember us bantering with some shit. I remember at one point she inquired about what models I've dated and I replied "supermodels, don't worry about it" (totally stupid answer...sounded like I was qualifying myself). I remember at one point SHE "sexualized" the convo and said something like, "Yeah, well sex and love are two different things. I don't need love for sex!" In my head I should've ran with this thread, but again, being drunk and annoyed I was thinking 'don't even bring up sex if you're not going to let me run my fingers up your arm you little tease.' so I replied, "Yeah, I'm sooo over the whole sex thing. Don't bring up that hippy shit." She was just like, "Yeah, right." Anyway, at this point details get hazy. We ended up ordering several rounds and closing out of the bar but the waitress only charged me for one round (score!). I remember at one point telling HB Nerd Glasses about a museum party on Friday and she was like "I WANT TO GO! We'll do that together next!" So I guess that's good. But I remember leaving the bar she was REALLY creeped out by me (like hardcore).

Anyway to sum it up, let's go over the good points:

1.) Getting D2s with really high quality girls
2.) Got to talk to Decibel
3.) Spent under 30 dollars for a longggggg D2
4.) I kino plowed despite resistance (didn't chode out)

Now the sticking points:

1.) I can't get drunk on D2s anymore
2.) I'm still letting girls bring their friends which is like kryptonite to my game
3.) I'm not being ballsy enough during my conversations early on...it's like I walk on egg shells until I ruin the interaction then I stop caring and start saying what I really want
4.) I'm not closing on most of my D2s now which seems to be going backwards from a few months ago

Going forward: Plan on calling HB Nerd Glasses tonight with some nonsense like "Hey, just wanted to make sure you weren't molested by some vagrant on your way home dork..." then make plans for Friday (even though the museum party happened last week). My field intuition says this girl is going to flake HOWEVER if you look at my track record with this girl, I've fucked up every stage of this PU and still got her on a solid D2 so maybe this girl is responsive to shitty game...

Who knows?

Pop culture anchoring

TJ's note: I was just going through my Word files and found a chapter from the eBook I'm working on. Enjoy ("PUA post" style :))

Pop culture anchoring

Intro

Pop culture is a social force that binds us with a collective unconscious. Advertising, movies, radio, Internet, and television constantly bombard our senses which condition our tastes, behaviors, memories, and, for some, our lives. While many people – pickup artists and civilians alike – view this “socially conditioning” as restrictive, they fail to recognize the possibility such a collective social unconscious offers:

The possibility of superficial rapport.

A label like “superficial rapport” sounds like an oxymoron and, in a lot of ways, it is. It has to be. Because it has to answer a paradoxical, counter-intuitive question: How can strangers quickly connect and build rapport in a way where neither person ostensibly forfeits their social power?

Let’s examine that question.

Strangers overcome their “strangeness” and forge relationships by displaying their personality and establishing commonalities. Even when “opposites attract”, for one person to even learn another person is their “opposite” requires that both display their interests, opinions, and tastes before they can attract.

However, merely fishing for commonalities with a stranger is a try-hard, abrasive approach. Interview-style questions like “What’s your name? Where are you from? What do you do?” are vapid, emotionless, and obscure finding out someone’s unique style, taste, and personality. Rightfully, most people (especially attractive women) refuse to waste time answering such questions from a stranger who has not differentiated himself from the hordes of other strangers who asked the exact same lifeless string of questions.

Rarely are we just given genuine answers to personal questions, we must earn them. And everything we earn in a social interaction is through value.

We gain social value in countless ways – though most lack rapport. For example, say a guy learns a simple magic trick like making a saltshaker disappear. While the trick may awe strangers and pump the guy’s value, the approach does not establish any connection between him and the strangers. He was merely entertaining. The same is true of the guy who learns to play a Dave Mathew’s song on the guitar. Or the guy who parrots someone else’s canned opener. While it may boast the performer’s momentary value, questions still remain: Who is this guy? How does this relate to me? Why should I continue talking to him once he stops being entertaining?

So, for strangers, pop culture is the bridge between value and rapport. Pop culture’s ubiquity spins a web that both traps and connects us. Since we all recognize and understand the same pop icons, moments, and clichés, we have a wealth of emotions to draw from, a gallery of faces to reference, a spectrum of body types to compare to, and a spattering of relatable personalities to analogize. While the characters we meet in TV shows, movies, and books are fictional, we still feel we know them better than most people we meet – perhaps even better than some of our own friends!

Once we acknowledge this, we have access to an unlimited number of ways to connect with strangers as simply as if discussing old friends and mutual acquaintances.

Methods

Metaphor

For a quick laugh, making an outrageous pop culture comparison consistently hits. Additionally, the metaphor or simile emotes on several levels and has the seeds for various other threads. If I simply say, “I saw a nerd walking down the street”, I haven’t cashed in the sentence’s comedic keyword (nerd). The label nerd, while chuckle-worthy, won’t elicit any big laughs because it’s not specific. Now, if I were to say, “I saw this nerd walking down the street that looked like Minkus from Boy Meets World”, I would get a bigger laugh. By specifically referencing Minkus, I’m not only painting a vivid word-picture, I’m also categorizing his personality and style. The variety of nerds can range from a Minkus-looking nerd to an Urquel-looking nerd to a Booger from Revenge of the Nerds-style nerd (to name only a few). In each case, you have a different set of physical attributes (skinny nerd, black nerd, fat nerd, respectively), a different social environment (school acquaintance nerd, next-door-neighbor nerd, college nerd), a different nerd role (antagonist nerd, lovable loser nerd, somewhat-cool nerd). Again, this only lists a few of the infinite number of contexts you can attach to a pop culture metaphor.

However, once you establish the context you want to highlight, you can amplify the humor by spotlighting it. For example, say I’m telling a story about seeing a nerd (who looked like Minkus) and he gave me the finger for no reason. The story’s humor hinges on the nerd’s absurdly unwarranted behavior. If I said, “I saw this nerd walking down the street that looked like Minkus from Boy Meets World. As he walked by, he totally flipped me off! Seriously, the guy looked just like Minkus – he even had the dorky argyle sweater and awful glasses!”, I’d be focusing on the wrong context. The humor is not because the nerd looked exactly like Minkus – rather it’s because Minkus was such a timid (though bitterly repressed) character on the show, imagining him flipping someone off is funny.

So, to highlight the context of Minkus’s behavior, we could say, “I saw this nerd walking down the street that looked like Minkus from Boy Meets World. As he walked by, he totally flipped me off! Seriously, maybe Minkus mistook me for that piece of trailer-trash Shawn Hunter and thought I stole Tapanga from him or some shit. Whatever, I’m totally telling Mr. Finni Monday morning.” Now that will get a big laugh. Why? Because I isolated the humor in the story (a nerd acting ridiculously), tied the abstract word “nerd” to a relatable icon (Minkus), then I figured out what context to relate my Minkus metaphor to (Minkus’s timid, bitterly repressed behavior), and made a wacky analogy that ties into the plotline of the show (Shawn Hunter stealing Minkus’s unrequited love interest)*.

* For all you hardcore Boy Meets World fans who are all upset because it was actually Cory – not Shawn – who pursued (and stole) Tapanga from Minkus, stop your crying and recognize my comedy of error: 1.) I got to use the adjective “trailer-trash” to describe Shawn (funny in itself); 2.) It calls for the listeners’ input since they can correct you, leading to a Boy Meets World vibe session; 3.) It keeps you from looking totally try-hard as if you are IMDBing the logistics of awful TGIF t.v. shows.

So let’s focus on specific metaphors we can use.

People

By far the best way to anchor a story, line, or routine back to pop culture is to reference a specific person. People fascinate people. Just picture a typical women’s magazine. Celebrities saturate its pages. We are privy to other people’s personal lives as their intimate details are exposed for our entertainment daily – whether it’s a real personal crisis (i.e. the Britney meltdown) or fictional drama played out on t.v. or the movies. Regardless, the notoriety of celebrities offers us an unlimited amount of ways to transmit a message in a funny, recognizable way.

As already mentioned, linking the dominant trait of a character back to a “funny” trait of the person you are referencing is a great tactic. To maximize the effect, focus on an “irregular” trait. For example, saying someone is as bald as Michael Jordan isn’t nearly as funny as saying someone is as bald as Britney Spears. If the trait you’re targeting is atypical or incongruent to the person (or what they represent), that creates humor.

Additionally, quirky features linked back pop culture are even more effective if flipped in some unexpected way. Examples of “flipping” a metaphor can be as simple as gender or race reversal. So, if you were comparing someone to Tony the Tiger, it’s infinitely funnier to say a butch girl looked like a “female version of Tony the Tiger” (rather than an intense dude). The “in-your-faceness” of Tony the Tiger is funny, but so much funnier if it’s a female.

Moments/emotions

A memorable moment is another great pop culture anchor to drop. Unlike tangible things like people or places, moments and emotions are abstract and slippery. As long as someone is familiar with the moment or emotion referenced, the speaker can contort the metaphor any way he likes.

Considered in that context, pop culture moments and emotions not only provide listeners an insight into our (pop) artistic tastes and preferences, but also tells them how we interpret those moments and emotions.

(More to come)