Guest Lay Report 001: Polar Binks

“She wanted a fight, and she wanted me to win.” – Polar Binks

This is a Guest Lay Report from a wing of mine – Polar Binks.

I Tweeted recently: “I like Lay Reports when they have a story arc, explain milestones and signals, and describe what makes for good seduction and sex.”

I want this Guest Lay Report series to be didactic and teach Gamers what is possible with women via good storytelling.

We are all primal creatures and apart from the love of fucking, we also like a good story.

Red Coco

Enter Polar Binks

I am writing this report one day after the lay so I have had time to put things in perspective. First and foremost, game works. After 50 or so approaches, 3 dates I have proven to myself that it is indeed possible to approach gorgeous women on the street and convince them to have sex with you. The world lied, Santa is real, there is a God.

If I had to describe my First Day Game lay, I would compare it to having a reached the summit after a slow and steady climb on the mountain side. The view is amazing, the air is fresh but also my oxygen starved mind is hallucinating on mixed feelings of possibilities, achievement, and lust.

The Date

She was 30 minutes late. Let’s call her Suz. Normally, I would be unhappy at such tardiness, however considering that the date location I had picked was out of city (for logistical reasons) and not super accessible, 30 minutes was bearable. I later found out that she had moved houses the same day, so it was miracle she showed up at all. 

Sticking to the Krauser’s model for dates, Venue 1 was a coffee shop, the idea being that you can have a normal, neutral conversation to calm the nerves, build rapport and comfort in a low pressure environment. That’s not exactly how it panned out. She rocked up, looking tired and a bit irritable. We ordered coffees and she made it clear with a tone that left no room for arguments that she would be paying for her drinks, I was only too happy to oblige. We sat outside. The conversation was flat, something I had not experienced on my other two dates and I was not well prepared for the awkwardness that ensued. It was probably my fault, I was trying to get her to invest too early (the other two girls had been happy to invest and share early on), she however was either not interested or not comfortable sharing facts about her life. 

The First Bounce

After a very ‘exchanging resume’ style conversation, I moved us to the bar next door –Venue Two – which had a vibrant atmosphere with drunken laughter and spilt beer (on the account of people trying to fit a whole night of drinking into a few hours before Good Friday trading restrictions kicked in at 9 pm). We ordered drinks at the bar, she ordered a gin and tonic, I of course had the scotch and soda. As per Krauser’s advice, I should have told my date to pick a spot while I get the drinks, in order to build compliance. However, my last two dates had literally picked the worst spots in the venue leading me to believe that girls are incapable of doing anything logistically sound on the first date.

We sat next to each other in a L shaped booth, and so began a barrage of shit tests. While the conversation at times was light especially when sharing stories about drunken escapades, a lot of other topic of conversations were met with disdain, ‘Why are we talking about this’, ‘how do you expect me to answer that question’, ‘Uhm nothing.. what are YOU passionate about’, ‘you judge people too much’. My standard physical escalation ‘you have such small hands’ (which had worked well last couple of times ) was met with ‘obviously, I am a shorter person’ with a look on her face which if verbalised might have added ‘you fucking idiot’. I held my own though, I am used to abuse in my line of work (when you are giving 50+ year old tradesman engineering advice, you learn to take a few).

I ignored her negativity, it was evident from her constantly shaking leg and lack of eye contact that she was still nervous and probably very tired. Regardless, she had made the effort to come out after a big day, she was sitting there, wearing tight clothes, looking hot, she wanted to be fucked. But she would not waste her time with a chode, I could tell from her demeanour that she had walked over many men in her life. It was understandable, her pretty face and tight, petite, young body naturally drew a lot of male attention. Still, despite being a sex-theory expert in my own mind, I could not figure out the play, I had been non reactive to her shit tests and I still didn’t see any opening, no attraction. 

She then commented on how my drink was disgusting and she could not understand why anyone would drink something that tasted that horrible. I told her that it was customary in my family for girls to only drink whisky and soda after marriage and it is all she would find in my house after our wedding. That drew the biggest smile and a slightly murderous look in her eyes. Good. It was obvious. She wanted a fight, and she wanted me to win. From then on, building attraction was relatively easy, the formula was simple. Take any negative assumption she made, exaggerate it to make it 10 times worse and convey how I gave no shits about what she thought of me. So I turned the shit test about me being organized and being a boring travel companion into me kicking her out of bed at six in the morning and slapping her with a strict hour by hour itinerary. Even though I am nothing like this on holidays, to try and qualify myself to her as a ‘chill and free spirited dude’ would have only lost attraction, the point was, I did not care what she thought of me.

Above – Polar’s First Holiday with Suz

The Second Bounce

Lacking a proper venue 3 (cocktail bar), I had planned for us to go for a walk in a park (that was on way to my apartment), a seed I had already planted in her mind. As we crossed the highway and turned into a quieter street, my heart started racing, this was going too well. Unable to think of a smooth way to escalate I just blurted out ‘show me your hand’, she complied and I held it lighty. ‘Clever trick!’ she exclaimed at my audacity. I let it go, she didn’t, she was happy to be led.

I slowed things down in the park, taking time to comment on its several features that gave this particular park the illusion of being a hollywood filming set. As we approached the end of our walk, I pulled her in and kissed her. She responded with such enthusiasm, that I could have pulled her to private spot in the park, but my apartment was only a block away. I walked her to it and pulled her with the excuse of finishing a movie I had started (another seed that I had planted earlier). The rest is for my memories alone.

The Wrap Up

My first lay would not have been possible without the excellent support I received from the daygame community with Red Coco being prominent among the mentors. It is for the most part a path that needs to be walked alone, but with the right support and peer group you can turn lead into gold. My advice to beginners like me would be to find peers who you vibe with, take time to support each other, be positive and don’t be an energy leech. Your good day game wings will be more important than any girl you can pick up. 

Early on in my journey I have realised that no one owes me anything, if someone does something nice for me, it is a blessing, not an entitlement.

Polar Binks

Player Dad

A number of blogs recently have commented on the topic of players and children – excellent pieces by The Red Quest ( and Magnum Live Large ( While I am a nascent Player, I do have a son – let’s call him Maverick Jr. – and wanted to add some commentary to the discussion.

This is a rambling, reflective piece on what motivates me to be a Player. For stories of smashing chicks, look to other blog entries.

The End Game

The Twittersphere asked the question what the “end game” is of Game – in my opinion, it is a continuing state of mind where you decide which women you want in your life and the kind of relationship you want with them.

The pathway to this end game was not so clear to me but I do remember some milestones:

1. Rollo Tomassi’s blog The Rational Male

2. Geoffrey Miller’s and Tucker Max’s book Mate

3. Robin Baker’s book Sperm Wars

4. Tom Torero’s podcast

5. My first two Daygame lays

Tom’s podcast listened to on the way back from dropping my son off to live with his mother, some five hours from where I live. When I returned to my city, I ended a relationship with a woman I had been seeing romantically and swallowed hard the Red Pill.

Why did I do it? Well, to reflect on my “end game”, I liked the woman – Miss Bumblebee – but not the kind of relationship. But that was not the real motivator. It was the Blue Pill tragedy of failing at what you don’t want – and I did not want to see my son leave … but he did.

My Father

My father consoled me – he had become a father way too early in life, got a girl pregnant at 16, and eventually married her after rescuing her from a home where women went to have babies before they were put up for adoption. His daughter was anaemic and crying for six months before settling with an injection of iron.

A second child arrived … and a few years after that he and his wife “grew apart”. She had had a number of affairs and eventually left, leaving him with the kids for a number of years. The Court eventually granted split custody to both parents, only for the second child – my eldest brother – to leave and live with his mother. Dad was left without anybody. He failed at what he didn’t want.

He eventually remarried and had two more children – my brother and I.

Maverick Jr.

I took care of my boy the moment he was born. He was the product of love (at least I thought), a healthy child, sweet boy and very close to me for the first four years of his life. I remember playing Errol Garner’s rendition of Moonglow to him at the hospital, singing him Baby Mine from Dumbo, and doing my best to play Good Dad.

What does all this have to do with Game and smashing chicks? Well, my son leaving was counterintuitively the best move for me to become free again as a man. It sounds selfish but it was – I was free to live on my own, take care of myself, and see any woman that I liked.

I separated from my ex in late 2015. She left the house we were living in with my parents and found her own place. I was a Blue Pill wreck – overweight, very needy, and fathering a one year old child we shared custody of. I was shocked at how quick things changed.


In 2016 I dived into a whole host of new interests to “build my value” as a man – improv comedy, stand up comedy, weightlifting, rockclimbing, salsa dancing. It was the roundabout way of going after women – because I had never approached a woman directly.

I was in Boyfriend Mode still and dated a Korean girl who could only be described as a Bunny Boiler. I ended the relationship after she started coming to the house unannounced. I reinitiated it under the guise of an “open relationship” before ending it permanently. My cherished moments with her mostly related to how much she could squirt when we fucked. Unusually, with her I learnt how to breathe and fuck a girl properly.

In 2017, I remained in Boyfriend Mode and dated an overweight American girl. She was the Chef and was a fantastic cook. I liked the banter but not the waistline. Still, one time she invited me to bring my keyboard to her house and gave me a blowjob while I played Love is a Losing Game by Amy Winehouse.

In late 2017/early 2018, I transitioned away from the Chef, again under the guise of “open relationship”, and met Miss Bumblebee.

During this whole time, I was living with my parents and had a young son to look after. So despite this, I still had enough Sexual Market Value to play in Boyfriend Mode and pick up three women.

In 2018 I spent the first nine months of the year in a torrid and highly sexual relationship with Miss Bumblebee. We fucked relentlessly, and after a highly charged session, we lay naked on the bed and I showed her a keyring with a photo of my son. I had hidden this from her because I still felt shame at being a separated father and thought she would not accept me as a sexual possibility if I told her the truth upfront.

When time came to move out of the house, coinciding with my son leaving, the Boyfriend Mode facade fell apart and I decided I wanted to be reborn as a Player.


Within the first two weeks of ending my Boyfriend Mode with Miss Bumblebee and living in my own place without my son, I fucked three new women. It was such a shock to me because it happened within three days.

I then spent the ensuing months chasing women, fucking another two before December along with four other women I tried to fuck. Boyfriend Mode was being erased in front of my very eyes.

The Reveal was that I was discovering that underneath this skin was an unrealised Sexual Market Value, hidden through years of poor diet and exercise, laziness, chodeyness, and this sense of shame that would wash over me if I did not play anything less than on Boyfriend Mode.


In November 2018 I received daygame coaching from Paul, a local coach in my city, and for the first time made a direct cold approach to a woman. It was exhilarating. I was astounded at the amount of Indicators of Interest women would show me in the street. I number closed four girls on the first day of coaching.

I daygamed for a number of months with different wings, eventually going out on three dates which went nowhere. March and April this year surprised me with two first date lays, one of which was a Same Day Lay. Four months of pounding the pavement had paid off.


I took my son to the Easter Show recently, a large variety show held in my city every year where farm animals come to town to be judged. It is really an excuse to eat shitty Show food, pat goats, buy overpriced theme bags full of Chinese produced rubbish, and watch butch women chop wood.

A curious convergence occurred as we walked around the Show. I was playing Good Dad … and at the same time felt like a Daygame wolf soaking up the atmosphere and the incredible amount of female beauty around me. I spotted Indicators of Interest, one of whom did a double-take look at me while on the train platform. The energy at the show was sexual and dark, despite the family-friendly facade of the faces of people around me. I saw people in a new light. I initiated conversation with silly, facetious comments to women. I swaggered as I normally would during Daygame. I was tempted to cold approach.

I had become the Player Dad.

Night Thoughts

As I lay by my son’s side that night, he comfortably nestled like a little puppy, I reflected on the last six months of my life.

In the same bed I had fucked eight different girls – leaving an imprint of semen, sweat, blood and pussy juice soaked through to the mattress.

We are all the products of dirty, incessant fucking. My journey has taught me that despite the facade of respectable society, there is a dark undercurrent of dirty, sordid energy.

Now I could gently smile at that cute mother and then shift and give her an eyefuck she will remember, use my young son as a prop to warm up young women I like (Miss Boulder), and then hide behind the respectability and safety of the Beta male Dad who takes his son to the Show and plays nicely in society.

Player State of Mind

Being a Player requires:

1. Time, freedom and logistics to seduce women; and

2. The right mindset of approach, attraction and escalation.

How do you do that when you have children? I can thank my parents for their support, taking care of him when required. Indirectly they have also helped me rebuild, restructure and rebrand as a Player.

When my son was staying with me during the Christmas period, it was VERY difficult to attract, isolate and escalate on new women because I was taking care of him. No amount of skill can do that.

One thing I would recommend is to keep on regular girls when you are in Player Dad mode. I still see Miss Bumblebee and we have a great time with my son in addition to hard sex once he is put to bed. (One moment was particularly intense as we fucked in a bathroom while my son slept. She then knelt down and gave me a blowjob while putting a vibrator to her clitoris – so yes it is possible).

Going Home

My son will be going home soon back to his mother, stepdad and new baby brother. They have chosen for themselves an ordinary life, somewhat mediocre in my opinion. The stepfather is very Blue Pill, under the thumb of my ex, and unusually jealous of me. He seems trapped … yet much of my new life has been facilitated because of him – he helps me keep my ex and her failings at bay. I can only thank him for taking her and her problems off my hands.

Before he leaves, I will reflect on how much I can play the Good Dad with him – cuddling, kisses, sleeping in the same bed, going to the Show, playing in the park.

And once he is gone … I will get back to doing what I have always wanted to do – smash chicks and become the sexual man I have always wanted to be.

Become the Player.

Lay Report 003 – Cinderella: A Same Day Lay Story

(Not at all like this girl – just needed a Google Image to match the moniker).

Set Up

JJ Rousseau, my wing, had returned from the USA armed with stories of lays, near lays and potential lays. We spent a few hours marauding through the city and harbour, JJ suffering from a phone full of dead leads he hoped to resurrect before Easter, and me on a high from a great daygame session on Monday with Tom.

Yon, another wing, had agreed to meet up at 5pm at the Strand Arcade. As we approached the Strand, JJ encouraged me to throw myself into a set of a girl who went into a shop – but which shop? I lost her. As I returned, JJ had gone and Yon was there.

A small, petite Asian girl stood some three metres in front of us against a wall. She had given me a short Indicator of Interest and then looked away. I commented to Yon about her: “This one – IOI – naughty girl. I couldn’t be bothered to approach her”. Yon, ever encouraging, sent me in.


I front stopped her after letting her walk away from me for about thirty metres. She was small, petite, Asian, smartly presented and with big brown eyes that could only be made through contact lenses. I surmised she was Japanese.

She was – and she hooked. The banter was light yet strained due to the language barrier. She had been studying English for six months and planned to go home to Japan in May. Osaka girl.

I touched her a lot and she was receptive. She was doing nothing, like me, so sensed an instant date was in order. She said Yes – which could have been anything between a Yes and a No – and I slapped her hands and jokingly demanded a Yes or No.

“Yes”, she said. I ruminated on whether it was a pleasing Yes … and then decided that I didn’t care – I was going to lead this girl anyway.

Instant Date

We made our way to the State Theatre bar presided over by a clownish looking doorkeeper with a lock motif hung around her neck. (Ghostbusters came to mind). Upstairs, the bar was quite stylish and we sat on high stools at the bar. I picked an order of two glasses of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, a safe bet. She remarked that she was a bartender at a Japanese restaurant in a nearby suburb and loved my wine choice.

She described herself as 90% bad which in my opinion was even a % higher than the vast majority of women or men. I imagined that I had picked up a girl who was a nasty mix of all things shibari, bukkake and schoolgirl/maid dresser. I threw an assumption in that she was a nurse … and she was! The mix of death and decay along with large amounts of empathy and Japanese mindfulness seemed to create orgasmic sexpots in nurses from that country – Bumblebee was a nurse as well.

I noticed at one point some micro glances to my lips and then I knew that it ON between us.

She left at 5:45pm to meet her roommate and friends for dinner. I pointed to her as we left the bar and jokingly demanded that we would see each other later in the evening.

Evening Date

She agreed to meet at 9:15pm at Kings Cross Station. She was punctual and we walked to my car so I could choose a venue close to home.

We went for wine at a large bar near the house, this time ordering red for myself and white for her (immaterial but anyway). Questions Game ensued and I was able to glean some hard facts about her sex life and time in Australia:

1. She had had six boyfriends in Japan, all Japanese. This seemed like a lot for a Japanese girl of 25.

2. She had been in Australia for six months yet had never dated an Australian.

3. She had been in a “love motel” a number of times but did not like them as they are dirty.

An reasonable man on a Clapham tram would surmise from those three points that she had not been fucked in at least six months yet loved to fuck.

She tested me and asked if I was a “playboy” and had lots of girlfriends; why I had the app Line; and why I had spoken to her. I buffered myself against the tests and brushed them off.

I looked at my watch – it was 10pm. She mentioned she needed to be home by midnight and I gave her the moniker Cinderella. I drank the rest of her wine and asked her to come back to mine to play a song on the piano. Plausible deniability ensued.

At Home

She took her shoes off and sat down on the lounge. I offered her peppermint tea and she softly held one of my mohair pillows against her chest as protection.

A piece of music came to mind and I played her Dvorak’s theme from the Ninth Symphony:

I went to the bathroom and grabbed some massage oil and began giving her a foot massage. (Most girls are surprised when I do this as they have rarely received one from a man or lover). Small, cute feet.

The pillow had to go. I threw it away and picked her up off the lounge to test her weight. She was light, around 45-50kgs – the kind of weight where you really could carry a girl on your shoulder and throw them on the bed.

Standing face to face, I went for the kiss and pulled her head in, stopping just short of kissing her until we had completed the little final seduction dance of who would kiss first. We kissed – soft lips – and a surprisingly good kisser. I let her hair down and started kissing her neck, sending a soft moan and shudder through her. This proved to be her Achilles Nape and I used it to good effect to get her clothes off.

She initiated Operational Order Last Minute Resistance (OPORD LMR) and I countermanded it with my Tactical Plan Nape (TACPLAN Nape) of using each kiss of the neck as a forebrain distraction to get each piece of clothing off. She kept on gently joking “No” and “bad boy” which I happily agreed to and kept going.

I took my shirt off and then later my pants in a tactical push. We stood there as she gave me a handjob. I started on her bra and shirt, both requiring serious levels of patience and forebrain distraction to get off. She had pert, little breasts and a nice belly button ring.

I had remembered sitting on the date with an erection admiring her tight figure and jeans. She softly mentioned it was her Ladies Day. This did not worry me as I had already cured myself of the fear of coagulated blood and gore on my penis at the tender age of 21. In the words of a colleague: “when you are stuck in the sexual desert, it doesn’t matter whether the oasis is red or clear”.

The jeans came off slowly but surely until, at one point, I just pulled them off and threw them on the ground. She had green lingerie on and I suspected the period story might not have been true … yet there was a pad in place.

The undies were the easiest piece of clothing to remove – they fell to the ground with a pad covered in blood. I took no chances and drew on a piece of advice that I had found floating on the Internet – fingering almost invariably leads to penetrative sex.

I fingered her for some time as she moaned and warmed up to the idea of sex. Pulling out my fingers, I looked down and was reminded of the scene in Macbeth where Lady Macbeth could not remove the blood stains from her hand:

I picked her up and carried her on my side to the cupboard to get a red towel. Throwing it on the bed, I was reminded of a contestant in a recent dating reality show in Australia who had advised the other men of the group that women just wanted to be “thrown on the bed”. It was true – I loved doing this, and so did the girls.

I pulled out a Sagami and started to fuck her. She was petite, curvy and soft, yet inside her I was surprised at the depth I could go. (I remember a girl I fucked in Thailand where the experience could only be described as “hitting the back wall”).

I felt selfish and after a couple of minutes of missionary – you know, where you hold the girl’s legs against your chest and bear hug her into submission – I came hard. And yet I stayed hard and continued fucking her. The squelching and writhing went on and she eventually came and went into an odd comatose position where we both held an extended kiss for about two minutes.

I let her rest for a bit and looked down on her – the fetal, comatose, collapsed wreck of a woman surrounded by pussy juices and blood and sweat. It was a beautiful sight to behold and one of the great experiences in life (up there with the top-down view of a girl as you fuck her from behind and ask yourself Talking Heads-wise “how did I get here?”)

I offered her tea and started another round of fucking, this time standing doggy pulling her hair and slapping her arse. She jumped in pain – sometimes the penetration is just too deep. We fucked for about twenty minutes in a few positions more before she softly panted: “give up, give up, Coco”.

A Dream Is What You Wish For

Cinderella was supposed to be home at midnight and I got her dressed and packed in the car. We talked a little about Disney and my trip to Disneyland Paris. Contrasting the blood and gore and fucking of only twenty minutes before, we sat in the car singing Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo before getting starry-eyed with the music of a A Dream Is What You Wish For.

I gave myself the moniker Pinocchio and we laughed before saying goodbye to each other. No kiss, no hug, no handholding. Just a friendly goodbye. She bobbed off into the distance happy and cheerful.

(Above – RedCoco the day after fucking a random Japanese girl within two hours).

As I drove home, it occurred to me that I had met this girl at 5:10pm, spent 35 minutes on an instant date, then another 45 minutes on a second date before getting her back to the house. LMR took 30 minutes before my penis ended up in her vagina. How on earth did this happen so quickly?!

I started thinking – the Secret Society really is just about certain males expressing specific qualities to females that demonstrates a r-selected mating strategy – and all under the noses of a world of K-selected males. It was like a world had opened up to me which was previously invisible – and now I was part of it. I had fucked this girl fast and then quietly and sweetly put her back on the shelf, with the world none the wiser.

I had achieved my very first Same Day D-Lay.

Lay Report 002 – The Girl On The Train aka The Masseuse

Sagami 0.01

A surprise awaited me on Thursday morning. Amazon Prime had delivered the goods in record time – an order of Japanese Sagami 0.001 condoms. It was portentous – I was meeting a Japanese girl for a date I had met on Monday. She was the Girl on the Train I would later call the Masseuse.

The Masseuse – Set Up

She eyed me on the train, in PUA parlance, giving me an Indicator of Interest. I was on the phone talking to Mum about my sister’s wedding preparations and other inane topics.

She was short, dark skin, Asian and well put-together with jewelry, stylish clothes and makeup – her style could only suggest one nation: Japan.

Later I got off in the city to meet with a Daygame coach for some corrective coaching.

I went to buy some sunglasses; flirted with the shopkeeper there; and was approached by a stunning Australian girl who mistook me for the shopkeeper.

Later, meeting with Coach, we talked about Brazilian Jujitsu, my pending trip to Europe, and his flailing 9-to-5 work efforts.

Coach opened a MILF and as I crossed the road to the Mall, I saw her again – the Masseuse – with mini IPad in hand and a focused look. She reminded me of that Roald Dahl short story where everybody walked around reading books and bumping into each other.

I opened her with a standard variant – “I saw you on the train earlier and missed the opportunity to talk to you. Then I saw you here and had to come and say hello. You’re very cute. You must be Japanese”. A stop is a stop is a stop. No point sprucing it up.

She looked up totally confused. On her tablet was the Find My Phone app. She explained she had lost her phone on Sunday night after a tipsy night out. I gave her a Hotspot and we went in search of the phone, weaving through shoppers and entering stores demanding the phone. I called her phone a number of times – no answer. (It was a number close, I suppose.)

Soon we stopped and I told her I was no White Knight and that I was hitting on her. She hooked and we chatted innocently for a bit before I let her go. I asked her, in the manner of Good Looking Loser, if she would like to have a drink with me (one of the two acceptable ways of sub-communicating sexual interest). She did.

Later that night she thanked me for the help and told me she had found the phone!

The Date

Texting was breezy – she was free on Thursday night. I planned to meet her at 6:30pm and had alternative plans if she flaked or if we did not connect.

I had also planned an (absurd) midnight second date with another Japanese girl (The Hostess) I had met in the park a few weeks back.

TIP: I never plan back-to-back dates as it seems to lose the focus on the first date while thinking about the second. To deal with flakes I plan something else – like a music jam, going out to dance, or seeing a comedy show.

Daygame is special in that you see the woman in the flesh before the date. The magic is when she turns up on the date and is ever more beautiful than when you met her. Yet for me it was a case of monoface – the blurring of multiple faces after numerous sets which reminded me of Michael Jackson’s Black or White video. She was totally unrecognisable to me until she turned up for the date.

She arrived at the Yacht Club on time – my go-to venue for sunset drinks over the Harbour. She was lovelier than expected: shoulderless black top, jeans, silver bracelet and drop earrings.

At the bar we were given the option of a small or large wine serving – she opted for the large. Signal #1.

“Choose the best seat”, I told her a la Krauser. She found a spot away from the crowd, sitting across from one another at a picnic-style table.

The Questions game ensued – nothing too fancy. She asked me a hypothetical – if my whole house was white, what part would I change? Black bedsheets, I told her. Her eyes popped – the proverbial eye spazz. This happened a number of times over the night and felt like signposts on the road. Signal #2.

I had no other venue to go to so used the break in drinks to move to a side-by-side seating arrangement and get piccolo wines. The idea was improvised. She went to the bathroom and I texted TodayGame Tom, my wing from Tuesday: “might close this girl.” Like a rugby coach at half-time brooding over a possible loss, he replied: “go get it my man!”

The great Twitter seduction writers began circling through my mind: Nash ( was telling me to escalate, Today Game Tom ( was telling me to change venue, and a chorus of Following Twitterers clouded my head.

She came back, and I escalated on the jewellery, then the earrings, and finally the nails. Predictable. Workable. Pedestrian.

Drinks gone, I told her to come with me. The next venue was across the park and up the hill – absurd. Red Quest ( came to mind: “make out with her from Venue One to Two”.

We ended up in front of a large ornate Georgian era house overlooking the Harbour and super moon. I pulled the trigger – she refused the kiss, one, twice, three times.

Tom Torero appeared – “I’m a man, you’re a woman, it’s my job to try, your job to resist”. This was getting schizophrenic. It felt like sideline coaching.

And then I saw an eye spazz and tried again but was deflected. Girl, Interrupted. She said she was trying to be “polite” by thanking me for the help with the phone. I was unconvinced and challenged her, telling her that no woman would ever be so polite as to end up in a dark park late at night watching a super moon.

We went up to the main street and I found an abandoned lounge where we sat for a minute. We wanted a drink so I grabbed her hand, dashed to the bottle shop and bought some wine and plastic glasses. Adventure Bubble. We moved to the main park near the fountain and found a spot.

There, we sat side-by-side on a bench while she tested me with the usual Counter-Player insurgency – Why me? How many women do you talk to? This is too fast for me.

I paused, sat back, and told her a story about what kind of person she saw in the mirror and whether she liked that person. It reminded me of a moving scene in the film Angel-A where the protagonist struggles to express the phrase “Je t’aime” while looking at himself. He is guided on the path by a tall angel who helps him.

I told her that sometimes I struggled to look in the mirror and find self-love. It was true – we all have doubts of self-love. We talked about my father’s “failure to feel”, that Anglo Saxon defect where we deflect emotions rather than express them. On a trip to Italy once, he and I stood in front of the Tower of Pisa, which he dismissed with an “it’s okay”. Pushing him, I demanded that he express something real for the first time in his life and get rid of the flippancy. His eyes watered up and said: “It’s incredible”.

Signal #3. Comfort completed. She came to my emotional aid and I slowly kissed her shoulders and neck. Then, after a small wrestle, I forced the kiss and she responded. Not strong but sensual.

I pulled the trigger and asked her to come back to my house for a drink, three hours after we had met. She fretted over getting home so I said I’d call an Uber. Then, unexpectedly, she mounted me and gave me a long, passionate kiss while grinding herself into me.

We left and walked home; a glass of red wine had spilled on to her jeans; she tipsily navigated the thorny roots of the fig trees that had lifted the footpath; we breezily passed the 24 hour cafe that was normally used as my last venue before bouncing home.

At Home

Inside, she took her shoes off – actually I asked her to take her shoes off (TIP) – and I poured her some water and also wine. She played Chopsticks on the piano quietly while I tidied up the house.

The piano was unveiled and I played her an Amy Winehouse song Love is a Losing Game and then an old jazz classic called Time After Time. She sat on the lounge purring like a cat and waiting for me to pounce. I started giving her a foot massage and thumbing nerve endings like an interrogator to reveal her secrets. She squealed and writhed. She was ready.

I picked her up and made her sit on my legs while on the piano stool, undressing her slowly. I make it a rule to undress myself first – the shirt – and then take her top off. She was soft to touch and smelt like sandalwood. Her bra came off and I sucked her nipples, commenting on how I loved small breasts.

There was no Last Minute Resistance and we stood up to take our pants off. There, she sat down again in front of me on the lounge while I stood there hard, much harder than usual. She hinted at a condom for a blowjob. Sensing overkill, I just picked her up and carried her to the bedroom and threw her on the bed, just threw her.

I gave her head while she gently tried to push me off with faint cries of “no, no”. She was clean shaven and petite. I overindulge in head and often get carried away, drunk on pussy juices and rimming.

Sagami on, it had been awhile since I wore 0.01s. We fucked, first to get a sense of ourselves together, then to look for pleasure spots for the two of us. I always enjoyed the Four Pillars of Sex – missionary, standing doggy, her lying on her side while I entered from on top in a scissor position, and her lying on her stomach with me behind. Enough variation, enough dominance, all highly penetrative.

She didn’t like to kiss while fucking, but here and there would reach in to kiss me. I held her down, pulled her hair, and fucked her from behind before she complained it was too deep. We switched and I put her on her side and fucked her, holding her tight with both arms until I came.

She snuggled under the sheets and I went to fetch some dark chocolate a neighbor had given me. We hugged as we ate and sipped wine. I looked down and admired her body, the kind of look you give when you are fucking a girl from behind and asking yourself: “how did I end up here?!”

Soon we went another round, this time more sensuous and playful. She loved to ride me and needed to be guided a little to find the right spot to grind her clitoris against me. Again, I dominated her, and the fucking her from behind and cumming a second time in short space.

We admired a pot plant I had purchased and looked in the cracked mirror for any bad omens. There were none – only the two of us naked and comparing our bodies.

Desire overtook and we had sex again, but this time I came up dry. I turned her over and started fingering her heavily until I felt her walls squeeze and a faint cry and then physical crash as she came. She was cathartic. I knew she had not been fucked properly in a long time.

Maroon Five

She snuck out of the house early as I was searching for the car keys to drop her home. I found her up the street trying to walk the distance home! She had mentioned that she had overwhelming desire for Adam Levine of Maroon Five so we put on What Lovers Do on the way back, following on with Sugar. Cheesy (but then again, I could live in a dairy bar). A short goodbye and a future projection (TIP) that I would feed her next time I see her.

First Daygame Lay Open-to-Close

I came home content – no, exhilarated – at the thought that I had just had my very first Daygame lay from open-to-close within three days and on the first date!


1. Escalation – this was the first Daygame date where I properly escalated both verbally and physically. When I felt that tension between us, I took the risk and went in for the kiss despite being rebuffed a number of times.

2. Comfort – the story about my father shifted her mood and she started positively qualifying me. She also found great comfort in the fact I would get her home safely in an Uber so she could walk her dog in the morning.

3. Adventure Bubble – running around town checking out the super moon, buying wine and drinking in the park

4. Pulling the Trigger – I knew I had to ask her to come back with me at some point and took the risk to pull the trigger.

5. Condoms – Sagami 0.01s. Almost as good as condomless sex. Psychological barrier broken.

6. Green/Amber/Red – I remembered this technique when she was rebuffing my advances but not leaving or moving away.

7. Player Tests – the usual questions which I rebuffed with the standard answers.

Reference Experiences

In one of my previous post I talked about storytelling (Storytelling: A Tale of Two Students), an idea that surfaced from Coach Kondo, a colleague of mine with a track record of seduction experiences.

This post is about my own seduction experiences which tend to form the whole – what Nash from Days of Game ( called reference experiences. I will give credit to Nash for coining the term and any ideas he has previously shared with me.


For me, reference experiences refers to moments in seduction which:

1. Give an insight and awareness into the true and full range of female sexuality and psychology

2. (For me) help break the back of Beta male patterns of thought and help me embody a more Alpha mindset

3. Provide a framework of patterns of female behaviour which can be drawn on for future seduction efforts – in essence, markers which help you further down the road, like a map or landscape of experience to form a more whole picture.

In Nash’s words:

“I see Ref Exp (“learning moments” that are almost visceral, in that you “feel” the learning, and can often tie it to a theory … in that moment).”

“I think of Ref Exp as a “wizard’s spell book”. If you ever wished you had one, you will get your wish if you work hard at game. When you “see something” and “know what it means” and “what to do next”, you’re a goddamn wizard.”

“But most Ref Exp…. have to be earned. And the real “magic” is in the all the little micro-moments”.

Catalogue of Reference Experiences Pre-Game

I was a monogamous male for the first nine years of my sexual life with the first woman I was with. I then went through a sharp window of paying for sex before finding my second girlfriend with whom I decided to have a baby. I then had three girlfriends in succession, all exclusive.

There were a few tiny blips on the road – a one-night stand during a paying for sex rampage, another girl I dated and hooked up with twice, but otherwise a small group of reference experiences with very little knowledge to draw on.

Post-Game Awareness

2018 was a watershed year for me where I became fully immersed into the principles, art and science of game. What ensued were a series of seductions and near misses which opened my eyes to so many aspects of female sexuality. It was so addictive that I am now fully immersed in the learning process of game. Below are some disparate examples of lessons learnt and reference experience gained.

Miss JJ

I went on a date with a girl and opened by shaking her hand. She said it was the most formal introduction to a date she had experienced. I told her that’s the most formal it would get and told her to sit. I then looked at her with such a sexual intensity that it unsettled her. She started with the interview questions and lamented the number of first dates she had been on. I stopped her, told her I wasn’t here for a job interview, planned to seduce her, and was not here to play Scrabble. “I love Scrabble!”, she retorted.

It soon turned very sexual: she loved vibrators, had “meh” sex just last week, and I challenged her to make out with me before the end of the first drink. We made out at the bar, then I threw her against the wall near the bathroom and we made out more. We went for a quick bite to eat and told her I didn’t wear underwear – she grinned and put her hand down my pants and started to give me a handjob.

Later, on a second date, after we fucked, I asked her what she thought of me. She said the handshake threw her and she did not care any more about the date, then withdrew the thought after she was shocked by the sexual intensity of the look that I gave her. She was still equivocating at that stage and threw in the vibrator comment as a “no fucks given” test. I threw in the seduction comment because I was tired of the shit test interview.

Lessons learnt:

1. No fucks given on either part lead to an intense amount of honesty and sexual tension; and

2. Verbalising the seduction process as a last resort to remind the girl and I of what we are really meeting for.

Miss Boulder

See the post on Miss Boulder:Adventure Sex – Miss Boulder

Lessons learnt:

1. Always trust an “on” feeling, a true and genuine signal which invariably leads to a seduction. It’s a matter of when, not if.

2. I gave Miss Boulder a false time constraint by telling her I was unavailable the following day. She then arranged to meet me despite her grieving friend.

3. Shocking for me, Miss Boulder and her friend actively schemed the logistics because the friend had recommended to her we fuck in the rockclimbing gym and wanted to know the outcome. Women are equally active seducers and like to share Adventures.

The Receptionist

See the post on the Receptionist: Blue Balls Report 001 – The Receptionist

Lessons learnt:

1. Unresolved sexual tension fuels a long open lead and can surface in a short period of time.

2. Last Minute Resistance can occur literally inches away from a successful seduction. The deal is never sealed until the proverbial P is in V.

The Play Date

Miss Play Date was a long lead, dating back to 2011 when we first met in Thailand. She was a former fattie and had lost a significant amount of weight since separating from her husband.

We went on a few dates in early 2018 and then a long hiatus when I started seeing Miss Bumblebee exclusively.

In October 2018, after a brief repose away from Miss Bumblebee, I went to Miss Play Date for dinner and we made out in the hallway before I left. My son was staying over with her son so it was the only private place we could find.

On a second visit, the sexual tension was palpable and, while the boys were playing in the lounge room, I asked her to give me a “tour” of the house. Once in the bedroom I slammed the door shut and locked it, pushing her against the wall and stripping her down before fucking her from behind. I later threw her on the bed and we fucked for a short time before the boys started banging on the door. She came and I was left there with dick-in-hand and unsatisfied. We were “watching a DVD” when we re-opened the door.

Lessons learnt:

1. I did not find her attractive initially … however time had slimmed her down and she suddenly became a sexual possibility for me.

2. Logistics plays a part in every seduction. In these circumstances it was tight logistics and even tighter timeframes.

3. There was an underlying tension when I asked her to show me the house as she instinctively knew what was about to happen.

Miss Doritos

See the post on Miss Doritos: Lay Report 001 – Brazilian, 21 years old

Lessons learnt:

1. Despite her being free that night, I presented no “excitement” to her until I pinged a few messages and photos to create some tension. Simply meeting up was not enough.

2. The initial attraction and “on” feeling when you meet a woman counts for something regardless of the length of the lead-to-close (similar to Miss Boulder).

The Vegan

I met her one night at a music jam and we traded eyes. She was Australian, of mixed ethnicity, 21 years old, and smartly dressed. Before we left, we exchanged details and she came to give me a big hug.

We met up for a drink about a week later after exchanging a few messages. She appeared hippy and spiritual, open about her sexuality, and I Googled her surname to discover it was Maltese … only to “guess” her background was Maltese. She was hooked.

At the bar when we ordered drinks, she said to me: “I’ll have whatever you’re drinking”. To me this was a clear sign she wanted to be led. So I verbalised it and asked her if she wanted me to lead it from here on it, to which she replied with a strong yes.

I led her to the house, to the lounge, to a massage, to a kiss, and then stripped her naked and fingered her against the piano before throwing her on the bed and fucking her.

I discovered she was Vegan, had dyed her pubic hair mermaid blue … and had a slight rancorous smell down below. I also discovered that very tight clothing hid a serious amount of flab for a young woman. Collectively, it was a boner killer.

Lessons learnt:

1. The proverbial claim of girls without fathers being promiscuous seems to ring true in this case. She also proclaimed to be “bisexual” which is really code for “bad sex with men” in my opinion.

2. A simple phrase highlighted to me that she wanted to be led all the way through the process of seduction – “I’ll have whatever you’re drinking”.

3. Red Quest wrote about this one – once her kit came off, I was genuinely disappointed at how flabby she really was. It was a turnoff. Removing clothes always wants to be a genuine surprise rather than a genuine disappointment.

The Rest

The Pole Dancer – zero sexual charge so the sex felt transactional and mechanical.

The Architect – another Brazilian who was boyfriend shopping rather than lover shopping and would not come over to my house for a third date.

The Curator – kept on interrupting sexual tension during a kiss by making flippant commentary … and would not come over to the house for a fourth date.

Lessons learnt:

1. Sexual charge is necessary for sex! At least a modicum.

2. Three date rule is enough for me – beyond that, I lose my Frame as a lover and become an interviewee for the role of Boyfriend.

Adventure Sex – Miss Boulder

Coach Kondo provided me with an insight into one of the three planks of Storytelling – namely Adventure. Specifically, he talked about an Adventure story a woman can share with her friends (or keep for herself and replay in her mind).

Miss Boulder comes to mind immediately, a German girl I met on holidays in Berlin in July 2018.

The Meet

I met Miss Boulder at a rockclimbing gym in Berlin. Eager to escape the cramped conditions of my brother’s house, my son and I went to a local bouldering gym. He was almost four and made a great wing (possibly my best).

There, as we walked in, a long set of stairs faced us and a German girl came down in black tights to pick up something from the stairs. She turned sideways and stared at both of us. The look she gave – the “on” sensation – was something that I felt immediately (and still feel to this day). It wasn’t apparent to me in my pre-Game state what this meant, but having experienced it a number of times now, I count the “on” feeling as a reference experience – a matter of when, not if, we would fuck.

We went upstairs and I started climbing while my son clambered up the walls and fell on the mats. I was lightly dismissive of her, focusing on my climb, as she sat in the corner sorting leftover clothes. She kept asking questions about my life, about my son, about the trip to Berlin. It was apparent in that exchange, even to my pre-Game mind, that she was attracted to me.

As we left, oddly for a German, she gave me a big hug. My little wing, one of the most effusive and sweet boys I have ever met, gave her a love attack of kisses. She gifted him with a LEGO brand hat and a big squeeze hug.

We dropped in a few times to the gym, coinciding with her shifts there. Her interest was high and we eventually exchanged numbers over a cigarette. It was an awkward number exchange, the kind that implicitly knew what was to come.

The Date

We were to meet for a drink about a week later, just before I planned to go on a ten day trip to London and Paris.

Logistics were shaky – I had rented an AirBNB apartment near my brother’s house where I was staying solo … yet the owner was one a fifty-something lesbianish German woman who kept her door open all night and would turn her light off once I came home.

She planned to meet me after a yoga class she was attending with a friend. Ready for the date, she sent me a text telling me she had gone home after fighting with the friend over some trivial issue while they had a drink after the class. Since when did yoga produce such anger?!

The date was cancelled and she was relegated to flake territory. She planned to meet me on my return to Berlin but I was not confident it would go anywhere.

The Trip

My son and I went on a ten-day trip to London and Paris. I forgot about her and did my best to take advantage of the very limited logistics and opportunities to meet women. I tried with a Russian AirBNB host but she resisted the kiss at least five times and I did not have the stamina to win her over.

Berlin Redux

In the afternoon, on the way back on the train, and as my son slept draped over a cheap Deutsche Bahn second-class chair, I sent her a text saying that I wanted to see her that night as it was my last available night in Berlin.

She sent an apology, telling me that her best friend’s father had died suddenly. The friend had sent her an SOS message asking for her company. She could not make the date.

So I responded:

“Take care of your friend and send her my commiserations. She needs your support and love. Before I go, now that we won’t see each other, I wanted to tell you that I found you sexy, charming and alluring from the moment we first met; and I really wish we had had more time to get to know each other. Best wishes and take care of yourself and your friend”.

She was very grateful to hear this and replied: “It is really wonderful to hear this!!!”

We returned to Berlin late in the afternoon, settled in to my brother’s apartment, and the usual domestic routine set in – bath time for my son, pyjamas, dinner and bed.

Late, around 8:30pm, I received a text from her saying that she was free to meet up for a drink. I asked my brother for the most hipster-head-exploding bar in town and he recommended the Monkey Bar in Ku’damm. There, at 9:30pm, we agreed to meet.

The (Rescheduled) Date

The Monkey Bar queue stretched out the door – hipsters lined up with groomed beards and lensless glasses to await the craft beers and smoked meats of ultra-Hipsterism. Berlin got to me sometimes.

She was there and the first thing she did was to drag me away from this tourist spot. This was the first date she had ever been on with a foreigner, she said.

She lived on my Strasse and knew a cocktail bar nearby. She had already had a few beers before seeing me, likely in preparation for the date.

We sat and enjoyed a cocktail, sharing trivial conversation about the trip and her life. I brushed her leg and then gently rubbed it from knee to hip. It was too much for her and she lunged in for the kiss: the kind of pushy, tongue-y kiss indicative of a looong time in the wilderness. We made out for a bit before one of the strangest exchanges I have ever experienced with a woman:

She: “Look, we have a problem. You are staying with your parents, brother and son. I am staying with my two brothers who are cock-blocks. And I really, really want you to put your penis into my vagina.

Me: “Thankyou. That would be a delight. In return I would like to put my head between your legs and suck on your breasts and fuck you silly”.

She: “I like that. Agreed.”

I was equivocating about logistics and mentioned hotels, parks, etc. She then paused herself and held up a set of keys: “I have the keys to the bouldering gym”.

The Gym

We rushed to an Uber and arrived at the gym. It was located in an eerie open courtyard (where you’d find Peter Lorre lurking in the shadows stalking children) and we went inside. The owner was cheap and had neither alarms or CCTV.

Up, on a ledge, there was a small bouldering area with a climbing route on the roof – and to protect the fall, a mattress. There we undressed – I gave her sex eyes – I sucked on her breasts – I pulled out my cockand then I pushed her on to the mattress.

Hungry women have two tells: 1. heavy kissing and 2. the urge to put you inside them as quickly as possible. She had lunged herself at me at the bar; and on the mattress she barely let me kneel before she pulled me inside of her. There was a sigh of relief; for me always it was a feeling of coming home.

I gave her head, discovering huge labias; turned her over and fucked her from behind; tried to doggy her but the bouncing foam mats did not help; and kept her in a missionary fuck trance until she came a couple of times. She looked at me with her hazel eyes and then told me she wanted me to cum while looking at her.

We moved back into a missionary fuck trance and she held me tight and looked at me with an intensity and a hunger I had rarely experienced (except for perhaps Miss Bumblebee). I pulled out and came all over her chest with an emotional crest – and then the crash. She rode me after I had cum but there wasn’t a drop left in me.

We held each other for some time, about an hour (post-coital credit to The Red Quest, before we dressed and stole a Magnum from the ice cream for the journey home.


As we strolled along the Strasse on the way home, both in a glow from coitus and blood sugar high, we held each other and talked about how naughty we had been. I asked her about whether she risked her job for doing what we did tonight – she didn’t care.

She dropped me at my brother’s and I pushed her against the wall for one more serious makeout. As she left, I wished her well and told her to pass on my condolences to her friend for her father’s death.

She grinned: “Thankyou. She gave me the idea for the rockclimbing gym and wants to know how we went.”

Storytelling: A Tale of Two Students

Coach Kondo

Let’s call my colleague Coach Kondo (or Kondo for short).

In October last year, a colleague of mine – Kondo – moved into my team. In casual conversation I mentioned that I was single again, had my own apartment, and had recently expressed an interest in Game.

Kondo spoke the language of Game without having ever studied it. In his words, he said that at the age of twenty-one he would enjoy himself as much as possible. This continued until his early thirties when he married and eventually had kids.

Kondo’s notch count were very impressive, even for the Game community. He was a natural – attractive, good talker, and at the time of his notch harvest, he had impeccable logistics only minutes from a major beachside nightclub in Sydney.

Student Red Coco

Next to our desks was a large wall map. Kondo challenged me to date 24 women by the 24th of December with a 50% conversation rate. Each date would be a number; and each conversion an asterisk.

At the time I was mixing online dating with a nascent interest in daygame. I also had a number of old leads including Miss Play Date and The Receptionist.

During the period I went on:

1. twelve dates

2. five conversions

3. Two Blue Balls

4. Two no-further-interest cuts from my side

My successes were mixed: fool’s gold of three conversions within a period of five days, then a prolonged drought of Blue Balls, followed by two more successes and the re-emergence of Miss Bumblebee.

Kondo was disappointed in my progress during the 12 Week Challenge and felt that it had been bogged down by an unhealthy interest in Daygame, ego service (through this blog) and a lack of storytelling.

Student SG

SG was a mutual colleague of ours in a rival rogue team who had separated from his wife after she had an “emotional affair” with a colleague of hers – that was code for fucking.

SG was shorter, unkempt, and appeared clueless with women after his marriage blowup. He shared his story of trying to bring a Thai girl to Australia he met. He also blew up a set I had opened at a work party with two Irish girls because he lingered too long and they walked away.

Kondo had also been coaching SG on how to get women. SG had shared with Kondo his recent membership to a site called Seeking (known as Seeking Arrangements). Kondo had never heard of it and researched it – there were something like 8000 women in the Sydney basin using this app.

Kondo set to work to craft a story for SG – something that would lift him from:

(A) about a 5 in looks, unionised public sector worker, zero interests, lack of physicality; to

(B) a self-employed architect earning $400K a year designing eco-friendly women’s shelters across the South Coast; former football player who suffered a back injury; and real estate tzar.

Soon SG’s mailbox was flooded with offers and he met a nurse at Bondi for a few drinks before going back to her house to fuck. More stories followed: a Canadian hotel worker, a Thai girl, a handful of Australian girls.

Photos were shared – they were attractive women (7s and 8s) and, according to SG, did not ask for any financial commitments or anything in return. There WERE running costs, of course, but no specific request for money.


So what is Storytelling?

According to Coach Kondo, a “woman can outdo a friend in the attention stakes with one or more elements”:

1. Money – investment banker

2. Power – CEO, celebrity, senior official

3. Adventureexcitement

Adventure can also be a private story for the woman to replay in her head – fast seduction, public sex, fear of getting caught, cheating, etc. While she will probably keep most Adventures private, there are times where she will share with her friends.

Dark Female Psychology

SG had none of these elements when he started using Seeking, however the story he crafted for himself included Money and Adventure.

Why Adventure? Well, some of the women he was sleeping with were in long-term relationships and just felt bored. Joining Seeking and setting up a meetup with a rich, successful man (although fake) was enough excitement to get over the threshold.

SG’s success with Storytelling raised him from a 5 in the eyes of a woman to about an 8. The elements of the Story included Money and Adventure.

All of it was fiction – yet it was accepted by the women and aroused them to the point of having sex with SG, sometimes repeatedly.

SG, to his credit, developed his Story into a piece of verbal wizardry. He described visualising the girl undressing herself with each milestone in the Story. His Frame was rock solid which is required for this kind of Game.

What does SG’s situation tell us about the arousal triggers in women particularly given the whole story was fake?

It’s a dark element of female psychology – proof of the impact on women of the Dark Triad characteristics (Narcissism, Machiavellianism, Psychopathy), in this particular case, Machiavellianism.


Most men are unable to consolidate on Money and Power so it remains for the average guy to:

(A) create a fake unprovable back story on Money and/or Power; or

(B) be the short-term guy that gives them a thrill and emotional rollercoaster, providing them with the Adventure that they crave.

Retrospective on Storytelling

Looking back on my life with women, I never had any of the elements that make for a good Story.

Only recently has Game has given me the Adventure element:

1. Making out with and receiving a handjob during a date

2. Fucking a girl in a rockclimbing gym

3. Fucking a girl while our kids played in the front room

4. Outdoor sex in a park

5. Fast sex in a private room at a party

6. Making out with a married woman

I now try and incorporate one of the three elements – Adventure – into every interaction I have with women.

I do not have the Frame yet to concoct a fake story of Money and Power just to lay women.