Intermission: Why The Judge

This afternoon I was fucking around at work and rather than finish writing the second half of my "history", I did a search on awesome quotes from Cormac McCarthy's great book Blood Meridian. For those who never of Cormac McCarthy, he's the guy who wrote No Country for Old Men. And, if you've seen that movie and thought that hit man Chigrah was a badass, he's got NOTHING on The Judge from Blood Meridian. I'll give you my PUA book review in 2 sentences. Basically The Judge is this complete AMOG who takes a renege troop of soldiers into the unsettled West (the book takes place in the mid-nineteenth century) to massacre and scalp Mexicans and Native Americans (I didn't claim this book was PC). While it's easily the most graphically violent book I've ever read (there are images from that book still etched into my brain that haunt me at night), there are also these beautifully philosophical scenes where The Judge (who's this absurd demonic intellectual) makes these striking observations on the nature of man and violence. I don't think I need to hit you over the head for you to see how the two quotes I selected fit well into the whole PUA paradigm. Anyway, I'd highly recommend that book even as PUA literature (Cormac McCarthy is probably the greatest living American writer...this book will be a classic 100 years from now). Enjoy these two quotes:

Toadvine sat with his boots crossed before the fire. No man can acquaint himself with everthing on this earth, he said.

The judge tilted his great head. The man who believes that the secrets of the world are forever hidden lives in mystery and fear. Superstitiion will drag hiim down. The rain will erode the deeds of his life. 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.

I dont see what that has to do with catchin birds.

The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos.

That would be a hell of a zoo.

The judge smiled. Yes, he said. Even so.

Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, p. 199

The good book says that he that lives by the sword shall perish by the sword, said the black.

The judge smiled, his face shining with grease. What right man would have it any other way? he said.

The good book does indeed count war an evil, said Irving. Yet there's many a bloody tale of war inside it.

It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.

He turned to Brown, from whom he'd heard some whispered slur or demurrer. Ah Davy, he said. It's your own trade we honor here. Why not rather take a small bow. Let each acknowledge each.

My trade?

Certainly.

What is my trade?

War. War is your trade. Is it not?

And it aint yours?

Mine too. Very much so.

What about all them notebooks and bones and stuff?

All other trades are contained in that of war.

Is that why war endures?

No. It endures because young men love it and old men love it in them. Those that fought, those that did not.

That's your notion.

The judge smiled. Men are born for games. Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of a game is not inherent in the game itself but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard. Games of chance require a wager to have meaning at all. Games of sport involve the skill and strength of the opponents and the humiliation of defeat and the pride of victory are in themselves sufficient stake because they inhere in the worth of the principals and define them. But trial of chance or tail of worth all games aspire to the condition of war for here that which is wagered swallows up game, player, all.

Suppose two men at cards with nothing to wager save their lives. Who has not heard such a tale? A turn of the card. The whole universe for such a player has labored clanking to this moment which will tell if he is to die at that man's hand or that man at his. What more certain validation of a man's worth could there be? This enhancement of the game to its ultimate state admits no argument concerning the notion of fate. The selection of one man over another is a preference absolute and irrevocable and it is a dull man indeed who could reckon so profound a decision without agency or significance either one. In such games as have for their stake the annihilation of the defeated the decisions are quite clear. This man holding this particular arrangment of cards in his hand is thereby removed from existence. This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justificaiton. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will whichh because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god.

Brown studied the judge. You're crazy Holden. Crazy at last.

The judge smiled.

Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, p. 248-50

The Judge's Story

So, as my birthday winds down and I officially begin life as a 25 year old, I sit in front of my computer a little drunk at 11:31p.m. and plan on writing my bio – from AFC to PUA. I love relating my experiences from the field and helping guys any way I can, but I think this post is important because it’ll give you an idea where I’m coming from and the man behind the ominous appellation: The Judge.

First, you have to understand the importance of this day, it’s significance. Probably at this precise moment exactly 1 year ago, I was making out with my ex-girlfriend for the last time. I remember the thoughts that surged through my head when our lips met in my parent’s basement as “Little Miss Sunshine” droned to no one on the t.v. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have this girl – who I thought was my dream girl – back in my life. I remember how strangely good it felt to once again be in her warmth, to feel her validation. As we kissed slowly and I glanced at her face – illuminated by the glow of the t.v. – I thought she was the beautiful woman in creation.

I now know I was a complete AFC.

But let’s begin at the beginning, before I knew the stigma of those 3 letters…

January 2, 1983: I am born.

And, from my earliest conscious memory, I was obsessed with women. Back then, they were girls – little girls – but I can remember as early as kindergarten my infatuation with girls. Their shape, their smell, their everything. I can still see myself, walking in boy-girl order through the halls of my grammar school, and being the only guy to realize that being sandwiched between two girls was a good thing.

Loving women has always been a part of me.

However, as I grew older, I grew fatter. And weirder. And uglier. But my obsession never ceased. This creates the worst kind of person, the worst kind of man. The sort of boy/man who needs women’s validation yet never receives it. I remember numbing myself to rejection at an early age. I was in 5^th grade, handing a note to a girl I thought I was in love with. I remember I asked, “Let’s go on a friendly date.” I remember the girl wrote back, “What’s a friendly date?” I remember my utter happiness that she didn’t flat out say “no.”

I was pathetic.

And it only got worse. For whatever reason, I believed I belonged with the “cool kids”. Despite being overweight, unattractive, and abrasive, I had a sense of entitlement. In a lot of ways, that sense of entitlement never diminished. Now it’s probably a good thing. Back then, with no way of justifying what I was entitled to, it was a bad thing. I was able to penetrate the “cool kid” ranks, but as a clown, as their jester, as a joke. By 6^th grade, I was hanging with the cool kids, but I was forever supplicating to them, playing for their enjoyment.

And by junior high, this reached critical mass. Imagine an overweight goofball with acne and a horrible comb over. That was me. Girls dated me, but out of pity or as a joke. I remember my first kiss at the age of 12. It was with a girl I was obsessed with. Crystal. That name is etched into my skull. We “frenched” once and then she was gone. I “frenched” other girls behind dumpsters or at cheesy makeout parties but I never got the “serious action” my friends were privy to. I began to wonder why. I began to understand what to F in AFC really meant.

Then a great thing happened. My parents enrolled me in an all-boy high school in Queens, NYC. Perhaps the advantage of a socially awkward fat kid enrolling in a school for all boys isn’t obvious at first glance. It wasn’t to me either. But it changed my life. It began when I joined track. At first, it was simply to lose weight. I ended up losing 30 pounds in my first month and becoming a standout athlete. Then my social status took hold. The social hierarchy of all-boy schools isn’t like public schools. You aren’t judged by your clothes or your popularity or any other superficial indicator of “coolness” anyone from public school is used to. (Interesting side note: Much of what you’re “judged” on in coed schools is what FEMALES deem important…very similar to how society allows FEMALES to set the standards of dating and sex…) No, in all boy schools you’re cool if you’re a cutthroat athlete, if you’re dominant, if you’re competitive and aggressive. Luckily, I became these things very quickly.

After losing weight and losing my braces, I was actually a fairly attractive guy (I still had the comb over and bad style though). Girls began noticing me and “liking” me. I remember this being a novel thing – for a girl to say she found me attractive.

I noticed the significance of this when I lost a friend I preserved from my grammar school days. He was what you might call a “grammar school natural”. The guy all the girls used to love “back in the day”. But in high school, the tables turned. Something happened where he wasn’t attractive to anyone and I was. He never was able to deal with that. To this day, we still don’t talk. He’s a very jealous person.

However, I still couldn’t land the girls I really wanted. Still that hole within me gapped and the super hotties could smell the stench a mile away. Particularly, there was a girl Samantha. She was even initially attracted to me. I remember I’d wait for her name to pop up on my buddy list on AOL so I could shotgun a message to her. I’d anxiously wait for her response. I thought her compliments and validation would somehow fill the hole within me. Fill in all that time as loser. As I was hoping and imagining she moved on to better, more confident guys.

But then another great thing happened. My cousin – who is a complete Guido and therefore understands style – dragged me to a barbershop. My silly combover was replaced with a stylish shorter hairstyle that better fit my face. Then she took me shopping for new, better fitting clothes. In a matter of days, I looked like a new person.

And it couldn’t have come at a better time. Just as all this was happening, my all-male social group was merging with a group of girls from a Long Island all-girl school. In fact, the harbingers of our group brought back pictures (like recon photos in wartime) of the women of this group. We (about 5 or 6 dudes) perused the pictures perversely – rating the women in the crassest ways. There were fat girls in this group and hotties and in-between girls. But there was only one who stood out as a “perfect 10”. Her name was Dana. She’d be my first real girlfriend. And I wouldn’t get over her for 8 years. Presupposing I already have.

I remember the night we finally met with these girls. There were 5 or 6 of them and 5 or 6 of us. I knew all the guys were set on Dana. I knew the dynamics of all-boy schools was no different than the wild west: man versus man, no holds bars. We were all vying for the ultimate prize: a girl we’d all decided was the hottest chick we’d ever seen.

And I remember my expectations were completely fulfilled the first time I saw her. She was standing in her social group under the streetlamp by a bowling alley. The way the light flecked her blonde hair and perfect skin looked angelic. We all knew beforehand she was “shy” and her body language evinced it. She just sort of stood there, looking unsure of how to handle 6 guys ogling her.

Luckily, I perform my best under pressure.

That night I had the most incredible proto-PUA night in the history of my life. We all ended up going to this tool’s house to hang out. I remember I commandeered all the attention that night. Guys in the group tried to steal my spotlight but couldn’t. My stories were too funny. My wit was too quick. While the other losers were trying to kino Dana as she listened to my stories, I kept plowing and acted disinterested. Later in the night, I offered her my jacket (ultimate lock-in prop). The next day, when her friend IMed me to tell me “Dana likes you”. I literally fell off my computer chair. I thought the hole was finally filled.

I was wrong.

I dated Dana. I even made out with Dana. But it didn’t take long for her to see all those stories and wit were just an act. We dated for 6 months, but, in retrospect, she lost attraction for me after our first month (if that long). I reverted to acting like I thought women wanted: telling her she was the most beautiful person on the planet, buying her things, kissing her ass. I was average. I was frustrated. I was chump.

I quickly dated another super hotty immediately after Dana, but ended up in the “friend zone” a month later as well. But, after a few more failed relationships, a third amazing thing happened.

I met the Crusaders.

I know this sounds absurd now, and writing about it as a 25-year old makes me feel retarded, but the Crusaders were a group of “naturals” who showed me the ropes with women. Literary we were 4 guys who drove around in my mom’s purple minivan and fucked chicks. Our code word for sarging was “crusading” and we did. In one summer, between us we hooked up with 40 women! While we were never systematic about what we did, we simply made our agenda public (“we fuck woman in a purple minivan”) and allowed girls into this reality at their own discretion. As you can imagine, we have a canon of absurd stories from our Crusaders days (roughly my junior and senior of high school) which maybe I’ll post on here (I’ve written them in scenes for my novel).

Though, while I got tons of action with the Crusaders, I never completely kicked my AFC habits. For one, I chased Dana constantly, begging her to “try one more time” (again, I have a canon of hilarious stories of trying to woo her as if I was a horny Wile E. Coyote). I also acted like a little bitch with every girl I didn’t just use for sex or blowjobs.

Ultimately, this led to a resentment of women that brought me to my summer before I left for college. This incidentally was my best summer of sex and random hook ups in my AFC life. Since I no longer cared to even try getting involved with women (since every time I seemed to try, it ended “horribly” or as “just friends”), I treated every woman as a sex object, which was a surprisingly effective approach when you’re in high school and gaming HBs.

But then a horrible thing happened. College. Notably freshman year. After weeks of not hooking up with anyone, I regret to say I lowered my standards. The only time I’ve ever hooked up with beasts and fatties (barring times I was absurdly drunk or passed out) was during this time. The only respectable girl I hooked up with was right before finals when one of the Crusaders came for a “surprise” visit and I made out with a cheerleader. However, even this hook up was ruined when an obese football player threw up on both of us in the backseat of a cab (sort of a fitting metaphor for my entire first semester in college).

Then I met my girlfriend of 5 years.

(Wow, my history is longer than I thought so it’ll have to be “To be continued…”)

Announcements for 1/3/08

What's up guys -

I'm sort of pissed.

I wrote up my whole life history as an AFC to a PUA on my computer last night but my internet connection went down. Hopefully I'll post it tonight (theoretically I'm meeting HB Model tonight, but we'll see as we made plans via text messaging which, to me, is an atrocious way to secure a D2...but I'll cover why I had to do that way in my FR - if there ends up being a FR).

Anyway, I wanted to post this ASAP because I'm sure this going to get taken down shortly. Here is a link to the greatest piece of pick up literature you will ever read:

http://www.scribd.com/doc/920437/TylerDurden-OwenCook-The-Blueprint

That, my friends, is a hacked copy of Tyler's book. I'd recommend clicking the "download" button on the left and DLing it as a Word document since I'm sure this is going to be removed shortly.

The shit you will learn from this book is life-altering. Trust me.

Other than that, my birthday celebration was uneventful in terms of PU. My two AFC friends took me out for beers. I saw a hot 3-set and said I was going to open them but my friends actually begged me not to (one friend is practically married and the other is terrified of ever being rejected by a girl). Anyway, no sets opened last night, just drank beers.

Oh, finally, here's Dave Love Pirate's FR of our sarge:

http://www.nycsargeteam.com/showthread.php?p=184#post184

It's not incredibly detailed but interesting to read none-the-less.

Peace,
The Judge

Seduction Database Update

So the site is back up. A slightly different Url:

http://www.seductiondatabase.com/v2

Let me know what you guys think.

Posey

FR: When girls accuse of you being gay, it’s an IOI

So, I’d been having a good week.

Since getting the week off from week, I f-closed 3 different girls in 3 days. I went home to spend the holidays in Long Island and Saturday I was back in Manhattan ready to sarge. As I stood in my apartment, trying on some new H&M peacocking gear in the full-body mirror, I called “Dave Love Pirate” from the NYC sarge team. I heard of the NYC Sarge Team on Bristollair…

These guys are intense.

To make the “team”, they give you a PUA tryout! Despite being confident in my abilities, after reading a FR about Dave AMOGing Mystery (!!), even I was a little nervous contacting them. But, Saturday night, after 3 f-closes and new peacocking gear, I was ready. Talking to Dave on the phone, I realized some of the major advantages to sarging with these guys. Not only are these guys skilled PUAs, they also have absurd social proof.

That’s key in Manhattan.

There’s a special part of Manhattan called The Meat Packing district…basically fairyland for PUAs. (Notice I wrote “fairyland for PUAs”, not “fairyland”…that’s the village). Anyway, Meatpacking is where Mystery sarges when he comes to Manhattan. It’s where the models hang out, the celebs chill. It’s a place off limits to mere mortals unless you a.) are willing to spend absurd amounts of money, or b.) have connections.

But, with my “connections”, I was ready to put my PUA skills to the test. I made plans to meet Dave at 10, called Theory, and spent the rest of the night doing some NLP confidence exercises (this will do wonders to your confidence…try Hypnotica’s podcast and/or RJ’s confidence series)

So Theory and I step out of the cab in Meatpacking and it’s bumping with hotties everywhere. We get out of the cab and wait in line for this rooftop lounge we’re meeting Dave at. As we’re waiting in line, Theory opens this 2-set of cute Korean girls in front of us and ran the best set I’ve ever seen Theory run. He’s got everyone laughing, projecting a completely non-needy vibe. It was awesome. I saw girls in front of us turning around to check us out. An auspicious start to what was going to be an amazing night.

Once we got inside, we took an elevator up the penthouse. When the elevator doors open, my eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. I’m looking at this huge lounge, glowing in blue lights, chill music playing at a REASONABLE volume; the wrap-around bar is glowing; hot women are everywhere. And, the best part: The entire lounge is glass, so it overlooks the Hudson River and the Lower East Side.

Absolutely stunning.

The minute I walk in, I see Dave. He looks exactly how he described himself on the phone: Skinny guy in his early 30s wearing a black design t-shirt with a black sports coat. Before Dave even says hi to me, he asks to see my silver rings. He compliments my peacocking gear then apologizes for it being a “dead” night. I’m flabbergasted as my wide eyes are taking in SWARMS of beautiful women.

Dave motions for us to follow him into another room and opens a 3-set of hotty 30-year old women. Dave isolates his target as Theory and I work 2 hotties (both HB8s). The two women are especially shit-testing me since I’m young (24 years old) and acting so cocky. They start accusing me of being a “Manhattan snob” then call me “gay”. (More on the “gay” IOI later) After a while, I started getting fed up with their annoying shit tests. Namely when this interaction went down:

HB 30-year old woman: You’re a writer from Manhattan? I hate you guys. You’re all chasing around your models – or these girls who are wanna-be models. You don’t know a good women when she comes along…

The Judge: Oh yeah? You gonna introduce me to one??

HB 30-year old woman: Why don’t you prove to me you’re a real man and buy us a drink?? That’s what REAL men do. Don’t be cheap…

The Judge: Bwahahahahahahahaha…you are TOO funny. You guys are like The View!! (Sidenote: drinks at this lounge were $15 bucks each…absurdity!!)

HB 30-year old woman: Hahahahahahahhaa…OMG!!!!

Then Theory jumped in and did a room cold read that hooked BIG TIME. Here’s what he did…

Theory: Oh man, look around this room. Look at this hillbilly with his hillbilly wife (points to a guy in an ugly checkered shirt). Oh shit, and look at this fake record producer (points to a well-dressed tool by himself checking his blackberry), etc., ect.

Theory can expand on what he did if what he wants. Anyway, as all this is going down, I see the hotter of the Korean girls we opened on line walk past holding hands with a guy who was unmistakably a PUA (dude was about my age, good looking, all peacocked out with the PUA smile on his face).

I decide I’m going to steal his girl.

So Theory and I open her friend, HB Korean Cutie, and get her laughing again. Once HB Korean Hotty sees this, she dumps her PUA escort and joins our circle. At this point, I felt bad leaving Dave, but we took these girls to a section with couches and ran the set. I isolated HB Korean Hotty and Theory took HB Korean Cutie. There was nothing particularly interesting or noteworthy in this set other than I made out with HB Korean Hotty. As I was k-closing my target, Dave walked by and gave me a thumbs up (Dave k-closed some chick on the dance floor while all this was going on). The girls ended up leaving around 1am and Theory n-closed his target.

This left us open for more sarging.

As we regrouped with Dave, I realized I still hadn’t even OPENED a set yet! (That’s the funny thing about rolling with great wings…there are nights I go out with Ga’ash where I can just play wing and don’t open anyone).

However, after a week of D2s, I wanted to open a quality set. So, as I’m talking to Dave, I notice a high quality 2-set out of the corner of my eye. It’s a tall model-looking girl and her squatty friend smoking out on the balcony.

“Watch this,” I tell Dave and sway onto the balcony. I knew I had to run this set well since Dave was watching. Also, since this place was inundated with wanna-be PUAs, I figured an opinion opener may get me blown out. So I pranced by them, looked over the balcony, glancing over the Manhattan skyline, turned to the girls and said…

The Judge: This view is incredible. Do you guys know what part of Manhattan I’m looking at?

Squatty Obstacle: I have a boyfriend!

The Judge: (Looking back over the balcony) Well, isn’t that presumptuous? You think I’m over here trying to pick you guys up? Did I offer to buy you a drink? That, my friend, would be a pick up line. I’m merely making a geographical inquiry and you’re already giving me your life history. Now, let’s try this again: What part of Manhattan am I looking at?

Squatty Obstacle: We’re from Boston!

The Judge: Oh a group of Massholes. Hmmm, I don’t know if I want to continue this conversation…

HB Model: Hahahaha, (To squatty obstacle) he’s funny. We went to school in Boston blah blah blah we live in Manhattan now blah blah blah.

(Some bantering between The Judge and HBs…HBs now are laughing and qualifying themselves to The Judge)

HB Model: Okay, we’ll tell you what you’re looking at. That’s Lower Manhattan.

The Judge: Haha, first of all, that’s the East Village. Secondly, I can’t believe you fell for that. You think I’m not from Manhattan? Listen to my accent; I’ve lived here my whole life. That question was complete bullshit, I wanted to see if you guys were cool so I had to ask you something. (Funny thing is my accent is actually from Long Island...but I don’t like to admit that!)

HB Model: Well…are we? Are we cool?

The Judge: Hmmmmmm…jury’s still out, babe. Let’s sit down. Come. (Walks inside)

Within 10 minutes of sitting on a secluded couch, HB Model jumped on top of me and we started aggressively making out. I’ve actually never seen a girl more turned on in the field and it was a little surprising. I wanted to either f-close HB Model that night or make sure to set up a solid D2, so I peeled her off a few times and tried to build some comfort (also that stoked the sexual tension between us…nice!). Here’s what I learned about her a.) she’s half Chinese, half Portuguese; b.) she’s a model in the US and Asia; c.) she wanted to have sex with me that night.

To me, that’s the trifector of awesomeness.

Oh, in between our make out/comfort building sessions, HB Model kept accusing me of being gay. I.E.:

HB Model: God, you gay guys are so fucking hot. (Tries to kiss The Judge again)

The Judge: (Pushes her away) What the fuck are you talking about?

HB Model: You’re gay. I can tell. I make out with my gay guy friend all the time. He’s like the hottest guy I know.

The Judge: Yeah, okay. I’m totally gay. You got me. (Kisses her)

HB Model: (Stops kissing The Judge) No! Wait! Maybe you’re not gay. You’re a player, aren’t you? You’re gonna break my heart. Oh my God, and I’m totally gonna let you. (Tries to kiss The Judge)

The Judge: Okay, you’re starting to freak me out. First, I’m gay. Now, I’m a player. Both presumptions are erroneous. I’m actually both. I’m a gay player. I totally play guys. What’s your gay friend’s number. (Pulls out phone…HB Model looks a little shocked) Dumbass, you feel for my shit again. You’re slow for a girl who went to an Ivy League school (she told me earlier she went to an Ivy). Now put your number in so I can call you and let you break MY heart. (Doing the reverse player thing works AMAZING to dispel the player image…acting like you’re vulnerable is KEY…more on this later)

Okay, this FR is getting long and I have to meet Ga’ash soon for our NYE sarge (expect a detailed FR) but I’ll tell you about 2 “interruptions”. First, one of the bouncers came over to our couch. I assumed I was gonna get put in “time out” for being the cheesy make out guy (I didn’t see anyone else making out…which, by the way, I think is white trash and something I wouldn’t usually do in a dive bar let alone a classy place like this…but fuck it, she was smoking hot and I had to “prove” myself to the NYC Sarge Team). But, since Dave knew the guy, he just came over, smiled, and gave us the thumbs up. (Also Dave ran KEY interference with HB Squatty Obstacle for me…amazing!)

But then, later, some deuce bag came over (at the worst time too as HB Model had her hand down my pants and was jerking me off as well as taking my hands and putting them on her boobs/up her dress…wow, getting a boner remembering all this!).

D-bag guy holding two drinks in front of him like a complete AFC: WOWWWWW!!!!! Dude, you’re like an INSPIRATION TO ALL GUYS!!! (Tries to give a pound to The Judge…his fist (with a drink in it) just hangs there like a creepy scarecrow) I just wanted to say…you guys are celebrating boundless love and I just think that’s awesome. You’re the man…you’re –

The Judge: You’re cool now get the fuck out of here.

That’s a problem with congruency. If you’re going to act like this confident, dominant guy, you gotta be ready to shut down annoying drunk soliloquies like this. This dude was pretty big so I was sort of afraid he was going to get offended and fight me (also, I wasn’t sure if he was a PUA trying to steal my girl or actually just being a drunk guy giving a compliment). Luckily, Dave ushered the guy away and let me get back to “business”.

Anyway, the Squatty Obstacle ended up winning as she convinced HB Model not to come back to my apartment with me (I wasn’t really pushing too hard for it anyway since Theory was crashing at my place and I had 3 f-closes over the past week). But I texted HB Model before and she responded so hopefully when I call her on January 2, she’ll not be a flake and we’ll do a solid D2. (In her defense, she claimed she “never does this sort of thing” and that she’s not used to guys actually having balls…so I’m hoping she’s not a crazy party girl).

Aye, I’ll talk about the “gay IOI” in another post. But suffice to say now, one of the girls I f-closed last week also claimed she thought I was “gay”, too. (Keep in mind, I’m skinny, dress well, and talk very articulately…just look at some of my dialogue). Also, I mass texted HB 10 Frenchie from the Albany FR and she responded (she didn’t pick up when I called her twice and texted her once…so maybe??) Anyway, I’ll keep all you guys updated.

For now, Happy New Years, PUAs. Cheers to the game…

P.S. Miss USA contestant never responded to my holiday text. Damn.

All of the material that you will ever need

I came across this website a few weeks ago and decided to share it with you guys. http://www.seductiondatabase.com This website had pretty much every piece of seduction literature, video or mp3 that I have ever heard of, but unfortunately it got hacked right after I joined. However, the members say that it should be back up very soon, but I don't know.

Anyways, there is still a bunch of RSD, DD, mystery method and VA stuff on the site. I would not recommend that you download the mind of mystery if you decide to dl material off the site because it is basically crap (I downloaded it b/c I wanted to see what a $2700 product was actually like), although there is about an hour and a half of in field video of mystery and matador (in which they break so many of there own rules it isn't funny) which was worth watching for entertainments sake, but not if you are expecting to learn anything.

Also, note that it you will probably have to pay for a month membership to rapidshare which is about 8 bucks, because if you don't you can only dl one file at a time off there site which is where most of the files are located. Oh, and you probably should not post anything about this on the va or any other forum because the material is copy written (I don't know if that is the right word or not) and they will probably have it removed.

Hope this helps.

Posey

Note: I just tried to get on the site and they were updating it but I am pretty sure it still works.

FT'd Christmas Text Message

Okay, I didn't want to post this in the VA forums because it might be construed as "racist" (I'm not, but this text is good). Anyway, I wanted to do a "mass text" to both flakes and non-flakes alike, but didn't want to do the whole cliche "Merry Christmas" shit. So, I came up with this one:

The Judge: Merry Kwanzaa dude

It's worked great so far. Tomorrow I'll send it to my Miss USA flake. Keep your fingers crossed...

It's all in your head

I've always hated running. But I'm a pretty driven guy, and a couple days ago I pushed myself through a 1.25 mile run. The next day, I ran seven miles.

Even though I've been working out since August, running has been a major sticking point for me. I can do "static exercises" at levels that I never would have believed a few months ago, but I just couldn't muster myself to do significant distance running.

My run a few days ago, the 1.25 mile one, was typical. The ground is covered in snow and ice here, so I used a treadmill. As I ran, I set little goals for myself, thought about how much more I needed to do before I could stop, and did all sorts of calculations in my mind to figure out how much longer I'd have to run. I ran analytically.

The next day, inspired by one of Judge's posts, I decided I was going to run for seven miles. I'd never run four miles before, so I knew I had a steep challenge on my hands. In his post, Judge gave two extremely useful pieces of advice: run with music, and don't pay attention to how much farther you have to run.

The reason music is important is that it helps distract you: paying attention to how far you have to run is deadly. Running seven miles was probably easier for me than running about a seventh as far the day before: I wasn't constantly worrying about what I had to do.

Tips on phone game and more

Someone from the VA boards PM’d me asking for some help on phone game and I figured I’d post my advice on here since phone game is one of the most important aspects of PUA. For me, I’m less interested in same night lays than I am with collecting 4 or 5 phone numbers (hoping that 1 or 2 of them lead to a solid D2). I have a fairly high percentage with converting solid phone numbers (meaning the girl answers the phone or calls me back…which doesn’t always happen!) into D2’s. Here’s my routine:

Phone game is simple: When you call her, treat her like one of your buddies.

The minute she gets on the phone, be really jokey and enthusiastic. For example, when I got HB Snowboarding Badass on the phone the other night (after we'd been playing phone tag for a few days) I opened with, "Fucking HB Snowboarding Badass! Awesome, it's you. Now I don't have to listen to your voicemail where you sound all cracked out. What's goin' on???" (Keep in mind, this girl has a good sense of humor...I wouldn't say shit like that to some of the other HBs I've called...)

After opening with something jokey, I immediately stack into a story about "something that happened" to me that day. It can be a real story, but I recommend using a canned story you know is funny (for example I usually use the story about getting grabbed by the dirty homeless guy or the “evil cat” routine…).

After that, HB should feel really comfortable talking to me since I've DHV'd myself by acting confident and funny, made her feel comfortable by carrying the weight of the convo for the first 2 minutes, and reminded her WHY she gave me her number in the first place (this is so key as most 8+ girls give their numbers to lots of guys but then flake them later because the guys are hopeless and needy on the phone).

From there, just ask her questions that qualify her but IOI her for good answers and lightly neg her for bad ones. Example:

The Judge: Oh man, I remember you’re into art, that's so cool. Who are your favorite artists??

HB: Cezanne, Picasso, and Rembrandt (tells story about why she likes them....story is interesting)

The Judge: Oh man, that is so awesome. You know, it's a good thing we met because I NEVER meet people like you. Most people think great artists are, like, the guy who draws Garfield comics but you get this stuff. I gotta admit, I'm impressed. But hold on, do you have a good taste in music, too?? What kind of music do you like?

Now lets say she gives a bad answer...classic bad answers are "Ummm...I don't know?? Like dance music I guess…" In this case, you have to LIGHTLY neg her and try and prod her to give a better answer (this is both for you and her as she'll feel a lot better if she thinks she's living up to your standards….which is part of my “theory” which I’m currently writing for you guys.) So here's my go-to neg.

The Judge: Dance music??? You guess??? What the fuckkkkk?? Dude, that's how my cousin answers questions and he's 7 years old! Oh man, I don't if this friendship is gonna work now. You're starting to scare me. You struck me as the type of girl who'd be into cool, indie rock bands. I could totally see you liking this band Wolf Parade. We're gonna have to have an intervention and I'm gonna burn you one of their CDs, introduce you to some good music...

See what I’m doing? I’m constantly setting the frame that I’m leading the interaction and she has to live up to my standards.

Oh, one last tip: Always smile when you're on the phone. I know it sounds stupid, but the HB will hear it in your voice. If it always sounds like you're having a good time, HBs will want in on that. Look in the mirror if you have to, but always keep a smile on your face when you talk on the phone...

Oh, and in terms of follow-up FR/LR, I f-closed HB Writer last night after the Christmas party. Quality stuff, with some twists. I’ll write up a LR on it if I get some time latter in the week, but for now I’ll say it really depended on A LOT of reframes. Perfect example:

(We’re in my apartment and she was cooking dinner for me as I was slumped back in a chair twirling a glass of red wine)

HB Writer: Ohhh look at you, Mr. Pimp. You have this gorgeous Italian girl cooking you dinner. You’re a lucky guy!!

The Judge: Haha, good one. I’ve had a gorgeous Italian girl cooking me dinner for the last 24 years of my life, but nice try though. (My mom’s Italian)

There were at least 4 or 5 situations like this where she tried to reframe our situation that I was lucky or I was chasing her (she told me stories about a couple guys I work with hitting on her or trying to hook up with her. Nice!) but I kept reframing or ignoring her. Later she said that really attracted her. Nice!

And, as for HB Snowboarding Badass, her behavior has been bordering on AFC. Chick texts, calls, and FB messages me all day! I mean, it’s cute but at the same time it makes me realize that these hot, badass chicks are really like little puppy dogs on the inside. If I qualify her or tell her she’s not living up to my standards, she gets really nervous and changes her tune. Here’s a picture of her from FB (Ga’ash might not recognize her because either a.) she’s wearing a blonde wig, or b.) she used to be a blonde) Regardless, I feel compelled to let you guys put a “face” with a “name”.

Learning From Bogus Sets

I was out last Saturday with a few guys from the Boston Lair. It was my first time ever being out with other sargers. They picked a trendy club and that wasn't really my vibe so I wasn't opening a lot of sets even though my mindset should have been to just open them for the practice.

As the night was winding down I was with Tyrant and Urnes Beast and we going over a 3 set that Tyrant lost to an interrupt from one of the OBs. She said she had to pee. The other OB sent a text message to someone that said, "I feel like I'm in the middle of an episode of The Pickup Artist." While debriefing Tyrant says to me, "I dare you to go over to that mixed 3 set (2F,1M) and open with "What are you doing tonight? I'm picking up chicks."

I almost never turn down dares, especially this kind so off I went. What I failed to do was get in the frame that this was a set I was actually going to try to win over even though I was opening by asking to be blown out and yet I still learned something.

I decided that if you are going to go in with a line like that, it would be good to start with a Mehowesque "Hiiiiiiiiiii" and with a smile I did just that. They said hi but basically were standing there wanting to know what I wanted.

ME: I'm picking up chicks tonight, what are you doing?
Girl: Nothing, just having a drink
ME: So you aren't picking up chicks?
Girl: No, we're not
ME: *Starts to say something else but don't remember what, didn't get it out*
Guy: Dude, that's my girlfriend and my brother's girlfriend.
ME: That's ok, I'm just having fun with you guys

At that point I walked away.

In hindsight I really had a chance to practice dealing with guys like this. He was a total AFC and what I should have done is looked at him and said, "I'm not picking up THESE chicks!"

So I learned that you can be in a bullshit set and still gain experience and I learned that if someone accuses me of picking up their girlfriend I will totally act like she is totally not good enough for me and I'm insulted at the accusation.