Unlike some of the other male writers in the Christian Manosphere, I’m not a virgin, and I’ve never been married. I’ve been well-behaved for a while now, and I have a great deal of respect for those who’ve been able to live up to their beliefs more consistently than I have. Still, I’ve done what I’ve done, although that’s different than what I do.
I didn’t particularly want to share this stuff with my readers. After all, I’m advocating Christian concepts, and some of the experiences I’m about to relate are decidedly un-Christian. However, I urge you to remember that there’s no way we would have conceived of Game as we understand it today without the Hedonistic pick-up artists. A great husband can describe how he manages his wife, but only somebody interacting with massive amounts of women and (for better or for worse) bedding some of them could have acquired the requisite body of knowledge to develop the tools that Christians can now use to wife-hunt.
Likewise, I believe that Game can be taken in directions even deeper and broader, that it’s applications can transform both our relationships and our society to an extent not yet explored in full, and it’s my own experiences that lead me to believe this.
So despite my hesitancy, I have three reasons to expound a bit on what I’ve been like at times.
First, there’s an assumption among many that those who don’t, can’t. There’s reason to think this way; unappealing spinsters who’ve never had the opportunity to lose their virtue have been among those most loudly condemning women who lose their virtue at least since the days of Fielding’s Tom Jones (the greatest book in the Western canon that nobody reads any more), and we all know that some who “go their own way” only do so because nobody wants to take them along.
Although it’s fair to suspect that somebody who’s not getting laid simply can’t get laid, it’s not fair to assume it. Through relating a bit of what I’ve done before I had ever even heard of Game with some (but not too much) detail, I’m hoping to lend some credibility to my own convictions, and hopefully it will rub off on some of my allies.
Second, a couple of months ago in the comments, after I related a situation in which I used rhetoric (Game’s political sibling), a prominent female blogger noticed what I did and why it was significant. We exchanged emails in which I related something similar I did on a date that inspired an intense reaction, and her comments helped to bring into focus what had previously only been a remotely vague notion in the back of my brain somewhere: What I’m doing, like the more PUA-related aspects of Game, can be dissected and formulated into a pattern. Before discovering this, there was no point to relating it, for it seems to contradict a lot of what we say in the Manosphere (but doesn’t actually contradict it any more than the New Testament contradicts the Old). There’s no point to relating random anecdotes, especially when you’re going to get flamed for them and won’t have a coherent defense. But now I’m at least a little confident that I’ll be able to handle some of the fiery arrows that may come my way.
The blogger in question is free to announce her role in this if, when, and how she chooses. I thank her and support her decision whatever it may be.
Third, much of what I’ll be relating will strike many of you (especially the Hedonists) as theoretical wishful thinking. I’ve got to show that what I advocate isn’t mere theory, it’s what I’ve seen and experienced in my own life. I don’t promote G just for the hell of it, I do it because I know it’s real, because I know He’s real. I’m painfully aware of what can happen when we fail to recognize the world as it is, but A without G is the life of a primate. Only sociopaths can replicate happiness without it.
Despite the mistakes I’ve made, they demonstrate some important truths. At the time, I had a blast, and it was only much later that I realized how I was harmed. Still, in the midst of my errors I did some very important things right. The good things are what I want to share, and I won’t be able to get into detail in this post, but they won’t make any sense without context.
In these parts of the internet we tend to be more forgiving of a male’s sexual transgressions than those of females (or even celebrate them and don’t call them “transgressions”). If I disappoint you, that sucks. I want to keep you as a reader, and I’m only doing this because there’s a larger Truth at stake that I can’t expect anyone to take on faith who’s not already inclined in that direction.
A while back, I was staying at a touristy spot in a prominent Western European city. In the social area of my domicile (a youth hostel), after a long conversation with a girl from Oregon, without my prompting, she invited me to go to bed with her. I obliged. The next night she almost got into a fight with some English girl because if the English girl had her way it would have prevent me for spending another night with her. She didn’t manage to change the English girl’s mind, but we found a way to do what we wanted despite her misgivings.
I found out that she went for me the night after she rejected a guy who had been the starting linebacker for a Division I-A university back in the states a year earlier. Not good enough for the NFL, but about a foot taller than me, and they type of guy who had always gotten the girls I wanted.
I overheard her traveling partner concede to the Oregonian that her hookup in that particular city was better than hers just before they left. I slept well that night. That wouldn’t happen again for a while.
I knew a Belgian with whom I had exchanged flirtations when the Oregonian wasn’t around and planned to go there next. However, before anything with the Belgian could develop, I met a New Yorker. I liked the New Yorker more (quality over flags), and she made it apparent that she found me attractive, so much to the obvious chagrin of the Belgian, the New Yorker got what she wanted. After a couple of nights, the New Yorker and her brother went to another city.
I was a zombie, I had nowhere to crash during the day and had to get up very early in the morning to perform my job as an illegal exploited laborer. When I returned, I went to a table with some friends and saw the very pretty face of an Australian at their table. I didn’t talk to her. I could hardly talk at all. I mumbled stuff to them for a few minutes and went to bed.
The next evening (I think I got a full five hours of sleep!), I noticed two English guys talking to the Australian. They were trying to get her to go to a bar with them. She greeted me as if we were fast friends and gradually eased them out of the conversation. When we were alone and I expressed my intentions, she told me that the moment we could get some privacy, she’d go to it. She meant it.
Later that night, she told me that she wanted to go the night before but that I was obviously too tired. This surprised me, for despite my ignorance of Game, I was unaware of any special appeal of The Men Who Can’t Keep Their Eyes Open. She also wanted to keep things secret. She only had two friends there. Whatever.
The next day I was talking to the two friends, also Australians, a sister and a brother. I had merely exchanged small-talk with them on previous occasions. The minute the brother went off to the bathroom, I found out why my hookup wanted to keep things secret: it was to prevent drama. Her friend, entirely unaware of the previous night’s happenings, came on to me. Hard.
After some further dalliances with the Australian on subsequent evenings, I found myself without any companions yet again (which was fine by me because I needed sleep). I saw the football player talking to a cute little Brazilian. I joined the conversation and performed about as well as I had the night I met the Australian. The football player, who had become my friend but could easily squash me like a grape, had to leave for a moment. I had made nothing even remotely resembling a hint to the Brazilian (grape-squasher evidently wanted her), but she started making noises about how she and I should go for a walk, NOW, before he could get back. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really walk, so a romantic meander through the streets would have been out of the question. Through my eyelids, I think I saw a endearingly touching expression of disappointment, but I needed sleep. Desculpe, baby.
I got some sleep, but evidently not enough. The next night, I saw a table of several Americans I have never met before. I greeted them, found out that the blonde was from Alabama, and decided I wanted her. After some conversation, the group changed location. I held the Alabaman back for a moment, asked for a kiss, and got it.
We talked all together for a while, and I eventually persuaded the Alabaman to go to a different room with me. We began making out, passionately. Unfortunately, even though we were standing up with her leaning against a wall, I fell asleep, apparently in the midst of kissing her.
Don’t ask me how. I don’t remember. I do remember how pissed she was the next day, though.
The next two nights, I slept. I avoided women and went to be as soon as I returned from my post laboring illegally. They can’t get you if you hide.
And then, energy! I was talking with some Americans and an Australian dude who had a Swedish girlfriend (she was a short variation of the fantasy Swede). An American girl came over, and the American guys tried to get somewhere with her. They struck out. I told them what they did wrong. The Australian agreed and said I gave great advice. Along came a Canadian female, and the Yanks failed again. I didn’t find her particularly attractive, but I started spewing my “Game” just to show them what’s what. Her friends came by to drag her away,but before she let them, she wanted to make sure that I would be there later that night. I left her hanging. The Australian asked if I taught classes.
I spent about a half hour talking to some dudes from Italy or something, and I noticed a spunky brunette across the way. “I want her” I thought. I walked over to her and said something. An hour later we were making out.
But Alex (the one who deserves to be named) had a line that she would not let me cross. Prior to these three weeks I had developed some really lethal Endgame, and it’s the type of Endgame that works best on girls who aren’t inclined to be slutty (no, I’m not telling you: good girls have enough to worry about without me making things even harder for them: suffice to say that I’ve only encountered one PUA who does anything even remotely similar, and it’s my intention to keep it that way). We went on walks, held hands, and made out, but we only went so far.
One night, she went to a concert with some friends for a band that was famous at the time. I found out later they had backstage passes. The lead singer of the band (who you’ll recognize if and only if you’re Gen X) spilled a drink on her and then tried to get with her (witnesses confirmed this). She rejected him to come back to me.
My last night there, I scheduled a cab to take me to the airport at 5 AM. I was with Alex, and Alex was losing it. Alex crossed one of her lines and was about to cross that line just after 4, but then the cab showed up.*
What Does Any of This Have to Do with Anything?
First, I’m sure that there are countless PUA’s out there that can relate experiences far more “impressive” than this. I can relate plenty of similar experiences, and as time progresses, I might. But for me, quantity isn’t the point.
As I was doing this, I never lied to any of them. I didn’t do anything to make them uncomfortable beyond teasing. I treated all of them like they were people, people with hopes, fears, dreams, and feelings. I talked about my own hopes, dreams, and fears. I was a really nice guy.
Did I have Game? Hell, yes, even though I didn’t call it that. But I think I had something more. I didn’t just get laid. I heard:
You’re completely not my type. I usually like assholes, but there’s something about you…
When I’m with you, I just can’t explain it, but I’ve never felt this way before.
I had no idea a guy in real life could actually be like this.
And ever since, even after I reverted to betahood, I haven’t had the option of casual hook-ups. They started out casual, but the women got really intense afterwards, every time. I know that women naturally feel more emotional bonding after sex than men, but I’ve talked to a lot of friends and read a lot in the Manosphere, and what’s happened to me repeatedly simply doesn’t happen very much.
This is part of why I’m holding back with parts of my Game (the reasons for that will take another post), but I’ve found it instructive nonetheless.
First, I made the mistake of thinking that my success during that three weeks and other times was because of my goodness. It wasn’t. When I lost my external frame, my success evaporated. Virtue doesn’t attract women. Red Pill.
However, although goodness most decidedly doesn’t act as an attractant, so long as sufficient attractants remain in place, goodness can act as an adherent. You’ve got to Game your wife if you want her to stay attracted to you, but you need something else if you really want her to bond.
Machiavelli was completely correct when he said that it’s better to be feared than loved; fear is the primal and without it the fluffy stuff evaporates.
Even better is to be both feared and loved. You can get a lot done with slave labor, but you can accomplish even more with employees who feel valued, so long as they can tell that you’re the one who’s got them by the short and curlies. The relatively free markets of America supplied the Soviet slave state during World War II. Likewise, you can get a lot from a woman if you can dominate her into tingling for you, but you’ll get even more if she’s so enthralled with you that she hardly even recognizes that you’re dominating her, that to her your thoughts almost feel as if they’re her own.
Yes, you’ll still get tested. She’ll never be you. Since the Garden she’s wired to make sure you’ve still got it. You need sticks to control her nether regions, but carrots are sometimes needed to dominate her heart.+
I’ve had some problems creating frame, but once my frame has been established, I’ve only lost it once. My Game abilities increase with time. I’m still working on approaches, but I’m great on dates, and after that the relationship last exactly as long as I want it to. I’ve suffered just like every other guy when it comes to getting a woman’s attention, but I don’t really understand what it’s like to lose it.
So I’m going to share some of what I’ve got, and I don’t care how many times I get called a mangina. Game is about a man getting what he wants out of life, and what I want is what God wants (to the fullest extent of my understanding). That requires recognizing a woman’s dark side, but it also requires recognizing that she’s got a soul that matters just as much as mine.
This requires not starting relationships with women when I already know we’re going to break up, it means I have to keep some of my arrows in the quiver for a while, and although a part of me would love to use my Endgame as much as Roosh, I’m hoping to use it only one more time.
After that, it won’t be necessary.
* For elaborate and boring reasons, I didn’t have the option to make the cabbie leave and come back later.
+ The balance required between the two varies according to how evolved the woman is. Sticks matter to all of them, carrots matter more to the good ones. I’ll explore that later.