Disclaimer: I have not watched a lot of the show I comment on below, just a few episodes. Enjoy!
Some of you may have checked out this TV show (Canadian, I think) "Keys to the VIP" where players are put through pick up trials in real bars with real girls, while 4 pick up commentators watch and pick a winner.
I've seen a two or three episodes and do not hate it. It is actually an excellent resource. Rarely does one get the opportunity to watch approaches like this, with every moment cataloged and available for scrutiny. Even when someone fails (especially when someone fails) there are still volumes to be learned.
Here's the interesting part, though: I see very little game being played on this show. I do not see tactically sound, skillful pickup being done on this show (excluding the episode with Cajun, who is incredible and dominates). What I DO see, are men who are sub communicating incredible confidence and status. What I DO see, are men who can re frame interactions strictly by virtue of owning their own body. What I see more than anything on this show is inner game. Tight, tight inner game.
Fader says inner game beats routines any day of the week. Future (I believe) says you can get away with anything if you've got a strong frame. This show is evidence of just that.
If you can find it (episode 4 maybe?) take a look at Kyle v. Mark. These guys (especially Kyle) are not doing anything except walking up to girls and telling them they are hot, and they are destroying, strictly by virtue of the confidence they exhibit without even saying a word (Mark even gets digits without saying a word. Literally).
On a completely tangential note, I appreciate that on one episode both players blew SO hard that the hosts gave the prize to some PA that was hanging out as they were filming, aka "That Guy." Check it out. It's good for a smile.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
LR: Boca
A friend of mine has a house in Boca, so this past weekend I went down along with some close friends. We numbered 14 all together. 4 girls, 10 guys. 2 of the girls were available. All 10 of the guys were single. Can anyone say "cluster fuck"?
As soon as the 2 available girls showed up there was a mad rush by the guys to get a foot in the door. They all hopped in, introduced themselves, started telling them how pretty they were...typical AFC stuff, and I loved them for it. They were making my job so much easier.
I bided my time, waiting, like a ninja, for the correct moment to strike. I made sure I always looked like I was having more fun where I was than anyone else, and kept moving from small pocket of fun to small pocket of fun, regardless of what my target was doing.
The girls, one blond and one brunette (my target, aka Boca), enjoyed the company of the AFC's but were never really taken in. Lots of booze was consumed. Some people went to bed around 2am. The girls and a host of gentlemen stayed up. Once I found myself next to Boca I initiated an over the shoulder conversation, allowing myself to project disinterest by getting distracted by the other conversations occasionally.
As luck would have it, Boca was way cooler than her blond counterpart, who turned out to be something of a totally insane lush. I don't need to deal with THAT again!
I moved Boca around the house a bit: outside for a smoke, over to the couch. Around 4am, just as I was about to move into one of the quieter rooms, she disappeared, so I went to bed and let the other dudes fight over the sloppy drunk one (she passed out. Cut to: nobody being surprised).
The next day was more hanging out and drinking. I kept up my ninja game, making sure every interaction was perfect and short. DHV spikes, general comfort material, attraction switches. I let the AFC's entertain her for the majority of the day. I had a good 12 hours until evening and didn't want to run out of steam. We did a little sight seeing in town, then headed back to the house around midnight where more drinking and hanging out occurred.
I moved Boca around some more, dodging the intentional and unintentional cockblockery of the other gentlemen at the house, until finally I came up with the brilliant idea of moving to a dark, quiet room where no douche bags could have any excuse to enter.
BB: I think it's important for a person to have realistic ideas about what they are good or bad at. What're you good at?
Boca: Bla Bla Bla Bla.
BB: That's cool. Are you a good kisser?
Boca: Yes.
BB: On a scale of 1-10?
Boca: 10.
BB: Bullshit.
Boca: No really! I hooked up with a bunch of girls in college-
BB: Love you!
Boca: (laughs)-and one of them told me after we graduated that I was the best of everyone she'd ever kissed.
BB: I would have let you get away with a 7 or 8, but 10 is bullshit.
Boca: It's not.
BB: I'll believe it when I see it.
Pause. Boca looks down at her feet, then back up to me. I go in, and we make out for a few minutes.
I pull away.
BB: There are 10 bedrooms in this joint. I want to get you into one of them.
I take her hand and lead her downstairs, then let go just as we go past our friends drinking and shooting the shit. I bolted into one of the rooms, and she followed.
I give her a 9 for kissing (10 is saved for the Japanese exchange student I hooked up with in college), but 10 for...other things.
As soon as the 2 available girls showed up there was a mad rush by the guys to get a foot in the door. They all hopped in, introduced themselves, started telling them how pretty they were...typical AFC stuff, and I loved them for it. They were making my job so much easier.
I bided my time, waiting, like a ninja, for the correct moment to strike. I made sure I always looked like I was having more fun where I was than anyone else, and kept moving from small pocket of fun to small pocket of fun, regardless of what my target was doing.
The girls, one blond and one brunette (my target, aka Boca), enjoyed the company of the AFC's but were never really taken in. Lots of booze was consumed. Some people went to bed around 2am. The girls and a host of gentlemen stayed up. Once I found myself next to Boca I initiated an over the shoulder conversation, allowing myself to project disinterest by getting distracted by the other conversations occasionally.
As luck would have it, Boca was way cooler than her blond counterpart, who turned out to be something of a totally insane lush. I don't need to deal with THAT again!
I moved Boca around the house a bit: outside for a smoke, over to the couch. Around 4am, just as I was about to move into one of the quieter rooms, she disappeared, so I went to bed and let the other dudes fight over the sloppy drunk one (she passed out. Cut to: nobody being surprised).
The next day was more hanging out and drinking. I kept up my ninja game, making sure every interaction was perfect and short. DHV spikes, general comfort material, attraction switches. I let the AFC's entertain her for the majority of the day. I had a good 12 hours until evening and didn't want to run out of steam. We did a little sight seeing in town, then headed back to the house around midnight where more drinking and hanging out occurred.
I moved Boca around some more, dodging the intentional and unintentional cockblockery of the other gentlemen at the house, until finally I came up with the brilliant idea of moving to a dark, quiet room where no douche bags could have any excuse to enter.
BB: I think it's important for a person to have realistic ideas about what they are good or bad at. What're you good at?
Boca: Bla Bla Bla Bla.
BB: That's cool. Are you a good kisser?
Boca: Yes.
BB: On a scale of 1-10?
Boca: 10.
BB: Bullshit.
Boca: No really! I hooked up with a bunch of girls in college-
BB: Love you!
Boca: (laughs)-and one of them told me after we graduated that I was the best of everyone she'd ever kissed.
BB: I would have let you get away with a 7 or 8, but 10 is bullshit.
Boca: It's not.
BB: I'll believe it when I see it.
Pause. Boca looks down at her feet, then back up to me. I go in, and we make out for a few minutes.
I pull away.
BB: There are 10 bedrooms in this joint. I want to get you into one of them.
I take her hand and lead her downstairs, then let go just as we go past our friends drinking and shooting the shit. I bolted into one of the rooms, and she followed.
I give her a 9 for kissing (10 is saved for the Japanese exchange student I hooked up with in college), but 10 for...other things.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
You just don't know...
I'm not about to say anything that isn't echoed by every instructor out there, but sometimes it is necessary to reiterate the simple ideas, lest they be tossed aside like a teen idol past their prime.
Gentlemen, you just don't know.
Let me explain: One of my least favorite things to hear on bootcamp is "But she's with that guy."
YOU DON'T KNOW! You do not know what the story is. Do not ever, in fact...NEVER, assume that you do.
Case in point: This evening I went out and found myself next to a three set (two smoking hot ladies and one dude). The dude was touching both girls legs, which to me said, "Holy shit, he is fucking the both of them!" Then my ACTUAL brain said, "He is not fucking both of them. He needs you, Big Business, to fuck the other one, whoever that may be." So I opened them, got some attraction, then dropped the "How do you all know each other?"
"We're cousins."
BAMN! Goodbye, restrictions on my behavior. Hello, digits from the hot one.
Everything about the interaction said that this guy was involved with at LEAST one of these girls. Even the preliminary conversation suggested it.
GIRL1: I wanted to buy this picture today, but he wouldn't let me because he knew he would have to carry it around with him all day.
Okay, that girl is clearly the girlfriend, right? WRONG! Neither are the girlfriend!
You do not know, gentlemen. You do not know.
On a side note; It was a fitting end to my evening, in that every all girl set I opened that night ended up being married (some of you out there are fine with fucking married women. I am not. There will always be other sets. I do not need to ruin a relationship. I do not judge, though), and the one mixed set I ventured into ended up being the money one with the two, hot single ladies.
You do not know, gentlemen. You do not know.
If I hear this excuse on bootcamp again, Big Business is going to have to slap a bitch.
Gentlemen, you just don't know.
Let me explain: One of my least favorite things to hear on bootcamp is "But she's with that guy."
YOU DON'T KNOW! You do not know what the story is. Do not ever, in fact...NEVER, assume that you do.
Case in point: This evening I went out and found myself next to a three set (two smoking hot ladies and one dude). The dude was touching both girls legs, which to me said, "Holy shit, he is fucking the both of them!" Then my ACTUAL brain said, "He is not fucking both of them. He needs you, Big Business, to fuck the other one, whoever that may be." So I opened them, got some attraction, then dropped the "How do you all know each other?"
"We're cousins."
BAMN! Goodbye, restrictions on my behavior. Hello, digits from the hot one.
Everything about the interaction said that this guy was involved with at LEAST one of these girls. Even the preliminary conversation suggested it.
GIRL1: I wanted to buy this picture today, but he wouldn't let me because he knew he would have to carry it around with him all day.
Okay, that girl is clearly the girlfriend, right? WRONG! Neither are the girlfriend!
You do not know, gentlemen. You do not know.
On a side note; It was a fitting end to my evening, in that every all girl set I opened that night ended up being married (some of you out there are fine with fucking married women. I am not. There will always be other sets. I do not need to ruin a relationship. I do not judge, though), and the one mixed set I ventured into ended up being the money one with the two, hot single ladies.
You do not know, gentlemen. You do not know.
If I hear this excuse on bootcamp again, Big Business is going to have to slap a bitch.
Friday, March 7, 2008
DC Adventures: Day 3
I woke up and threw on some clothes, grabbed a quick sandwich, then headed down to the seminar room for debrief and continuation of method instruction. All the students had done very well. Though most had severe approach anxiety before going out, all managed to get in a good deal of sets and some even collected digits.
Everything went swimmingly, until 5pm when I left the seminar room and discovered that the hotel was no longer giving away free booze! What the fuck?@! Some hotel! Jesus! What, do they only give away free booze 5 days a week?! Fucking bullshit!
The Don, Braddock, Helicase and I grabbed some delicious DC Thai, then headed back to the hotel for a nap, and more advanced deliberation with Braddock.
The text game with Mc-Hidden Tits was at a crucial stage. I had already exhausted a bevy of excuses for why we couldn't meet up yesterday until late, and now I had to pull the exact same shit out of my ass. "Jesus Christ! This bachelor party will not abate! Goodness, how I would much rather be hanging out with you, but alas, bros before hos and whatnot."
We headed back to some of the same venues as the night before. It was a little more difficult tonight than it had been the night before for a few reasons. Some of the students expected their approach anxiety to be gone after one night in field, and some got cocky with their previous successes. I got a little spent around 12:30-ish, trying to juggle texting Mc-Hidden Tits and pep talking various students. Winded, I entered a set of 2's with the intention of building up value for one of the students who needed me to start things off despite the women being hideously unattractive. Things were going well...until I teased one of them.
Hideously Unattractive: You've got a dirty mind.
BB: Dudes think about sex, Grandma. Sorry to blow your mind, Sister Margret, but maybe you can take that info back to the convent with you!
Not all that harsh by pick up standards (Earlier I had called a Hispanic 7 a "Spicy Enchilada from Taco Bell," to great success), but shockingly these two took great offense, and proceeded to blow me out.
Hideously Unattractive: Um. Okay. We need to get a drink now. Later!
WHOA! What?! Wait a minute...have you seen...YOU? Have you seen what YOU look like? You should be thanking me for talking to you! (The Don has since explained his theories for why you can't tease ugly girls, but it can basically be boiled down to something Sinn said: "Don't neg ugly girls. Life has negged them enough")
So I got blown out by a set of 2's. But you know what Big Business did then, gentlemen? He laughed his ass off, and found as many of the instructors as he could and told them the hilarious story as well. Then he opened a hotter set.
My favorite of all the students may have been the one who had the most trouble getting into set. The Don, Braddock, Helicase, and Puzzler and I all had to push him hard, and on a few occasions opened for him. Most of the time he either got blown out or bailed really early, but no matter what happened he always left with a huge smile on his face for the progress he had made.
"There's no consequence, and I learn with each set!"
It was as though he had read what was written on my heart.
YES! Yes, that is the exact right attitude! If you truly believe that, then there is nothing stopping you. A woman can call you a douche bag to your face (will most likely never happen) and you will just shrug and smile, recalibrate, and try again. Bravo! Bravo! Encore!
Around 1:15am I started working with student Godan, who despite having a bit of approach anxiety at the beginning of the night was impressing the shit out of me with his balls. Unprovoked, he was opening mixed sets with 9's in them and, like social rodeo, was holding their attention for as long as humanly possible.
It was around this time that I started Brilliant Delay Tactic #15 on Mc-Hidden Tits: Hide and Go-Seek. I would text that I was on the first floor while moving my student to the second floor, then I would text back, "I thought you were on the second floor, so I looked for you there! Come upstairs!" then moved to the patio.
I was able to delay contact until 1:45am, at which point I took Godan in with me to illustrate some comfort techniques (Godan was gracious enough to describe some of this work in detail on his review of the DC bootcamp found here).
I bounced with Mc-Hidden Tits around 2:15am. We couldn't get a cab back to the hotel, so we walked, which would have taken 10 minutes, but she kept insisting that we stop and make out in every bush, bus stop and alcove on the way. In the end I had to take her purse and run to keep her hands off me. This worked way better than I could have hoped, for every time she tried to shit-test me with something like "I could just leave," I only needed to respond with "I have your purse."
Here's where things got funny: I had my way with Mc-Hidden Tits at the hotel, which was interrupted towards the end by Braddock attempting to burst through the deadbolt, which I had cleverly locked. We went to sleep, but I was stirred by Braddock calling to find out whether the girl was leaving or sleeping over.
I put on some clothes and went outside, hoping to find Braddock accomodations for the rest of the evening, only to discover (at 4:30am) 3 smoking hot ladies (here for referred to as HB7, HB9, and HBInsane) in the company of my fellow instructors (4:30am. That's what we call "skill," bitches). I winged the HB7 away (though they didn't deserve it [see DC Adventures: Day 1]) so that Braddock could fool around with HB9 in the elevator and stairwell, and so that The Don could get in some quality time with HBInsane in his room.
I was impressed with The Don's work BEFORE I saw this girl, but now I am in awe. Easily the sickest body I have ever seen, not to mention cute and smart. I was actually a little intimidated by this girl's sickness, despite having a naked, recently violated lady currently resting her overworked vag in MY room, not ten feet away. Before I called it a night, I got to check out HB7 playing with HBInsane's breasts, for reasons that are not at all important.
Thanks, ladies. Now I've got another boner to deal with!
The next day I got on a plane and headed back to NYC. DC...you've been pwned!
Everything went swimmingly, until 5pm when I left the seminar room and discovered that the hotel was no longer giving away free booze! What the fuck?@! Some hotel! Jesus! What, do they only give away free booze 5 days a week?! Fucking bullshit!
The Don, Braddock, Helicase and I grabbed some delicious DC Thai, then headed back to the hotel for a nap, and more advanced deliberation with Braddock.
The text game with Mc-Hidden Tits was at a crucial stage. I had already exhausted a bevy of excuses for why we couldn't meet up yesterday until late, and now I had to pull the exact same shit out of my ass. "Jesus Christ! This bachelor party will not abate! Goodness, how I would much rather be hanging out with you, but alas, bros before hos and whatnot."
We headed back to some of the same venues as the night before. It was a little more difficult tonight than it had been the night before for a few reasons. Some of the students expected their approach anxiety to be gone after one night in field, and some got cocky with their previous successes. I got a little spent around 12:30-ish, trying to juggle texting Mc-Hidden Tits and pep talking various students. Winded, I entered a set of 2's with the intention of building up value for one of the students who needed me to start things off despite the women being hideously unattractive. Things were going well...until I teased one of them.
Hideously Unattractive: You've got a dirty mind.
BB: Dudes think about sex, Grandma. Sorry to blow your mind, Sister Margret, but maybe you can take that info back to the convent with you!
Not all that harsh by pick up standards (Earlier I had called a Hispanic 7 a "Spicy Enchilada from Taco Bell," to great success), but shockingly these two took great offense, and proceeded to blow me out.
Hideously Unattractive: Um. Okay. We need to get a drink now. Later!
WHOA! What?! Wait a minute...have you seen...YOU? Have you seen what YOU look like? You should be thanking me for talking to you! (The Don has since explained his theories for why you can't tease ugly girls, but it can basically be boiled down to something Sinn said: "Don't neg ugly girls. Life has negged them enough")
So I got blown out by a set of 2's. But you know what Big Business did then, gentlemen? He laughed his ass off, and found as many of the instructors as he could and told them the hilarious story as well. Then he opened a hotter set.
My favorite of all the students may have been the one who had the most trouble getting into set. The Don, Braddock, Helicase, and Puzzler and I all had to push him hard, and on a few occasions opened for him. Most of the time he either got blown out or bailed really early, but no matter what happened he always left with a huge smile on his face for the progress he had made.
"There's no consequence, and I learn with each set!"
It was as though he had read what was written on my heart.
YES! Yes, that is the exact right attitude! If you truly believe that, then there is nothing stopping you. A woman can call you a douche bag to your face (will most likely never happen) and you will just shrug and smile, recalibrate, and try again. Bravo! Bravo! Encore!
Around 1:15am I started working with student Godan, who despite having a bit of approach anxiety at the beginning of the night was impressing the shit out of me with his balls. Unprovoked, he was opening mixed sets with 9's in them and, like social rodeo, was holding their attention for as long as humanly possible.
It was around this time that I started Brilliant Delay Tactic #15 on Mc-Hidden Tits: Hide and Go-Seek. I would text that I was on the first floor while moving my student to the second floor, then I would text back, "I thought you were on the second floor, so I looked for you there! Come upstairs!" then moved to the patio.
I was able to delay contact until 1:45am, at which point I took Godan in with me to illustrate some comfort techniques (Godan was gracious enough to describe some of this work in detail on his review of the DC bootcamp found here).
I bounced with Mc-Hidden Tits around 2:15am. We couldn't get a cab back to the hotel, so we walked, which would have taken 10 minutes, but she kept insisting that we stop and make out in every bush, bus stop and alcove on the way. In the end I had to take her purse and run to keep her hands off me. This worked way better than I could have hoped, for every time she tried to shit-test me with something like "I could just leave," I only needed to respond with "I have your purse."
Here's where things got funny: I had my way with Mc-Hidden Tits at the hotel, which was interrupted towards the end by Braddock attempting to burst through the deadbolt, which I had cleverly locked. We went to sleep, but I was stirred by Braddock calling to find out whether the girl was leaving or sleeping over.
I put on some clothes and went outside, hoping to find Braddock accomodations for the rest of the evening, only to discover (at 4:30am) 3 smoking hot ladies (here for referred to as HB7, HB9, and HBInsane) in the company of my fellow instructors (4:30am. That's what we call "skill," bitches). I winged the HB7 away (though they didn't deserve it [see DC Adventures: Day 1]) so that Braddock could fool around with HB9 in the elevator and stairwell, and so that The Don could get in some quality time with HBInsane in his room.
I was impressed with The Don's work BEFORE I saw this girl, but now I am in awe. Easily the sickest body I have ever seen, not to mention cute and smart. I was actually a little intimidated by this girl's sickness, despite having a naked, recently violated lady currently resting her overworked vag in MY room, not ten feet away. Before I called it a night, I got to check out HB7 playing with HBInsane's breasts, for reasons that are not at all important.
Thanks, ladies. Now I've got another boner to deal with!
The next day I got on a plane and headed back to NYC. DC...you've been pwned!
Monday, March 3, 2008
LR: TheLunatic
About 8 months before studying pick up I came into contact with a girl that I've been referring to ever since as "TheLunatic." The reason for this moniker is simple: she's flipping insane. She didn't have issues, she had a subscription.
We went on a date which went horribly on account of the fact that her brain is desperate for lithium, but she remains to this day one of the two hottest women I have ever known. I often pondered that if I was married to this girl I would no longer be attracted to any other. True, I would be miserable (because she would make me miserable with her crazy) but at least I would be doing it with the hottest thing on the planet.
We remained in sporadic contact since then, her torturing me with her hotness. Once I began gaming I dedicated myself to getting good; practicing on ladies I would never meet again, and therefore did not need to fear rejection. I got my skills up to a respectable level, then called TheLunatic and arranged to meet her at a bar close to my apartment.
I started with attraction, which was getting me nowhere for some reason. I would DHV, she would lose a little bit of life, a little bit of interest. I would tell her she was retarded, and she would get sad, not smile and protest like the women I'd been meeting in bars. It took me about an hour to figure it out, but then I slid into my "used to be quite a drinker" comfort routine and suddenly the leg was rubbing up against mine and she was leaning over to show me her cleavage. "Holy shit!" I thought, "I'm in comfort already!"
I learned a valuable lesson that day: In pick up, as in life, one needs to constantly be making progress; you must always have positive forward momentum.
From that point on it was smooth sailing. Escalate physicality, move her to another bar, then back to my apartment with "You need to check out this thing on my DVR, but then you have to leave because I've got an early day tomorrow." Make out in the apartment, pausing occasionally to throw in a "We need to stop." No LMR. Not by a long shot.
This doesn't count as a same night lay, as I've known this girl from before.
I continued to see TheLunatic for a few weeks, before she made it impossible to ignore her crazy. Still, let's all give thanks to TheLunatic for being the hottest girl I've ever slept with, and, perhaps not coincidentally, the dirtiest.
Amen.
We went on a date which went horribly on account of the fact that her brain is desperate for lithium, but she remains to this day one of the two hottest women I have ever known. I often pondered that if I was married to this girl I would no longer be attracted to any other. True, I would be miserable (because she would make me miserable with her crazy) but at least I would be doing it with the hottest thing on the planet.
We remained in sporadic contact since then, her torturing me with her hotness. Once I began gaming I dedicated myself to getting good; practicing on ladies I would never meet again, and therefore did not need to fear rejection. I got my skills up to a respectable level, then called TheLunatic and arranged to meet her at a bar close to my apartment.
I started with attraction, which was getting me nowhere for some reason. I would DHV, she would lose a little bit of life, a little bit of interest. I would tell her she was retarded, and she would get sad, not smile and protest like the women I'd been meeting in bars. It took me about an hour to figure it out, but then I slid into my "used to be quite a drinker" comfort routine and suddenly the leg was rubbing up against mine and she was leaning over to show me her cleavage. "Holy shit!" I thought, "I'm in comfort already!"
I learned a valuable lesson that day: In pick up, as in life, one needs to constantly be making progress; you must always have positive forward momentum.
From that point on it was smooth sailing. Escalate physicality, move her to another bar, then back to my apartment with "You need to check out this thing on my DVR, but then you have to leave because I've got an early day tomorrow." Make out in the apartment, pausing occasionally to throw in a "We need to stop." No LMR. Not by a long shot.
This doesn't count as a same night lay, as I've known this girl from before.
I continued to see TheLunatic for a few weeks, before she made it impossible to ignore her crazy. Still, let's all give thanks to TheLunatic for being the hottest girl I've ever slept with, and, perhaps not coincidentally, the dirtiest.
Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)