Feed on

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Of the last 25 out of 30 girls I’ve slept with, I’ve used the following game tactics on all of them in almost the same order and at the same point in time of the pickup:

  • indirect opener, usually situational
  • if cockblock was present, one neg to cb asking if her friend is “always this way”
  • if cockblock wasn’t present, one neg directly to target about her “hair color being totally in style right now”
  • initiated kino sequence by laying my hand on her forearm, then later hand on her shoulder, then later still hand on her thigh
  • one dance twirl (her, not me)
  • one anchor (“hey could you watch my hat/scarf/pickup prop for me for a sec?”)
  • one DHV story about my time hiking a volcanic island
  • one to two venue change “bounces”, where i would simulate the experience of being on multiple dates by compressing it into two hours, making her feel she had spent more time with me than she actually did
  • two questions qualifying her, usually “cute chicks are a dime a dozen, what else do you have going for you?” or “are you low, medium or high maintenance?”
  • two rapport building routines (either the love test or the cube)
  • one age guessing game (her: how old are you?” me: “guess” her: [whatever answer] me: “perfect!” or “i don’t think you’re fun enough/mature enough for me”)
  • one vulnerability story (involves getting beat up by a bully i was trying to stop from beating up a nerdy schoolmate)
  • one major kino escalation (usually hand behind her neck)
  • kiss (i just go for it. no prepping) and/or number close
  • same night lay if propitious

25 girls. 25 lays, flings, or relationships. All of them gamed in almost the exact same manner to achieve the desired result. Like winding up a watch. Or tapping a knee to prompt a reflex kick. Or shaking a leash by the door so the dog comes running, knowing a walk and a refreshing poop is on the way.

Game enough girls successfully and the predictability becomes numbing. I imagine this is how girls must secretly feel when they slather on makeup and squeeze into sexy clothes and then get the predictable horndog responses from men around them. They enjoy the attention, but at the same time their joy is laced with resentment toward men. They resent that it’s all so deterministic. Women are particularly susceptible to this resentment of the opposite sex because they are more emotionally invested in the pretty lie that romance and love must “happen naturally”. Men, having in general less experience with inciting predictable responses in the opposite sex, don’t get so weepy-eyed for the loss of innocence when they learn a thing or two about how the opposite sex’s sexual attraction mechanism works.

Which is how I felt for a long time. Game used to be a blessing. But then, you get so proficient that the patterns become all that you see. Like the green cascading numbers in the Matrix, individual charming women morph into machines in your mind’s eye, fleshy cyborgs of buttons and levers and algorithmic code, with a power cord that leads straight to their vaj. In your drearier moments, you find it difficult to even hoist them to the level of a machine; you instead picture them as feral animals, all instinct, no heart. Feral animals that give you sustenance — meat, love, or preselection.

The first girl I fell in lust love with said two words to me. “Hi”. Twice. I didn’t game her. I didn’t know what game was, or even that women desired differently than men. But I did know the way she laid down on her stomach on a chaise lounge in her front lawn, reading a book, her pale-skinned thighs glistening in the summer sun as she swung her feet in the air like scissors. To this day, my memory of her retains a spark of mystery and whimsical, effervescent delight. I have slept with and fallen in love with many girls since, but with (almost) each one the spark and the whimsy have progressively dimmed. The dark knowledge of the crimson arts has given me what I want, but at a price. A steep price.

I bought a lover a diamond bracelet. Knowing that excessive complimentary gifts to a woman are inevitably value lowering, I presented the gift with the flourish of a scoundrel. “I was going to surprise you with a beautiful cubic zirconia, but unfortunately this is all I could steal back from my ex-girlfriend on short notice.” Smirk, pause, pause… yes… good reaction from her. I’m pleased with my handiwork. Very pleased. I think I’ll take a step back and admire the moment I just crafted.

I sometimes miss those unpredictable moments when I couldn’t take a step back.


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