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Womanizers never die, they just slay away.
A wise, old player of my former acquaintance — a man whose opinion I would only come to value after he left for adventures beyond and my experiences had endorsed the truth of his words — once told me a story about a quim slayer he had known and from whom he had learned so much about the ways of womanizing. His story was perhaps apocryphal, but the lesson it put forth was true.
He said his friend (we’ll call him The Visionary) suffered from a congenital affliction that was slowly robbing him of his sight. When he had met him, the friend was already on the cusp of declaring himself legally blind. He could still get around without a walking stick, and he could discern individuals and detect enough anatomical difference to know who was a pretty girl and who was the cockblock, but fine facial details were lost to him. He would describe the sensation as a shimmering blurriness, as if a piece of luminescent gauze was draped over the world which he would peer through trying to find peculiarities in each face to help him identify friends from strangers at an indoor distance.
Again, he had no trouble spotting pretty girls. My wise, old player friend confirmed the Visionary’s exquisite taste in women. What was different for him was the one obstacle he didn’t have to overcome which bedeviled fully sighted men: beauty catatonia. Up close, pretty girls didn’t cause him to stumble over his words or to physically stiffen with discomfort brought on by raging horniness. The sharpness of focus that causes an adrenaline rush in men when near a pretty girl was missing in him; he could see “this here is a pretty girl” but past that her features were smoothed out, flattened, blurred, and therefore deprived of the power that renders men tongue-tied and self-conscious.
Into this power vacuum he strode, preternaturally confident for a man with a disability, carrying with him, always, a hamster-nuking inborn disqualification neg to every HB he met: no hottie rattled him, and every hottie wondered why. He never let on he was vision-impaired, or if he did he downplayed its severity. Women could likely figure it out in time, but to their hamsters that didn’t matter.
Smoothasfuck and brimming with a ZFG calm that impresses men and drenches women, The Visionary would cold approach so many hsmv women that there were moments his friend would simply watch, awe-struck, as the crippled master of muff worked his stuff, and digits would exchange faster than the NYSE on the quants’ coke delivery day. Rejection was nothing to him; if he couldn’t feel the sear of their beauty he wouldn’t feel the burn of their loss.
His secret can be yours. Poon Commandment X:
X. Ignore her beauty
The man who trains his mind to subdue the reward centers of his brain when reflecting upon a beautiful female face will magically transform his interactions with women. His apprehension and self-consciousness will melt away, paving the path for more honest and self-possessed interactions with the objects of his desire. This is one reason why the greatest lotharios drown in more love than they can handle — through positive experiences with so many beautiful women they lose their awe of beauty and, in turn, their powerlessness under its spell. It will help you acquire the right frame of mind to stop using the words hot, cute, gorgeous, or beautiful to describe girls who turn you on. Instead, say to yourself “she’s interesting” or “she might be worth getting to know”. Never compliment a girl on her looks, especially not a girl you aren’t fucking. Turn off that part of your brain that wants to put them on pedestals. Further advanced training to reach this state of unawed Zen transcendence is to sleep with many MANY attractive women (try to avoid sleeping with a lot of ugly women if you don’t want to regress). Soon, a Jedi lover you will be.
You don’t have to wear vision-blurring novelty glasses to achieve the state control of the highest smv alpha males, although it might help. Alternately, you can train your mind to demystify women’s beauty by exploiting game principles that deceptively prioritize the display and proof of a woman’s character and personality, thereby deleveraging the capital advantage of her number one asset.
The Visionary played the game as if each pickup was his last, because he would go completely blind in a few short years and the blurred beauty of women would be gone from his world for good.