Lay Report 001 – Brazilian, 21 years old

Let’s call her Miss Doritos.

We met at a local cafe at the beach where I swim. Like most lays I have had, there was a sense of the vibe being “on” from the moment we met. A lingering handshake. A stronger-than-usual eye contact. Needless laughing at my jokes. I took her name and we became friends on Facebook. (N.B. I still don’t have her number).

There were a few pings here and there – a scuttled coffee date near my place, a “private drink”, yet nothing eventuated. We saw each other regularly at the beach cafe, exchanging glances and chatting. She met my son who was in town and described him as “lindinho”. We had lunch at the cafe and I teased her about her poorly drawn tattoo and Bernaise sauce dripping off her Eggs Benedict.

Girls of that age – 21, social media savvy – appear to invest more in indirect signalling to someone they are attracted to by liking posts on multiple social platforms. Whenever I would post a portrait photo on Instagram it would be liked, even the obscure ones. I had offered her a photo shoot – a seed that would prove useful.

She disappeared from the cafe after some weeks. I pinged her after a long 1.5km swim, expecting her to be “busy”. She was. I had planned a quiet night and a big dinner to rest and recuperate. I followed up with another ping, this time, related to adventure and excitement and how she was working so much and needed to reward herself. I drew on Tom Torero’s “good girl for Christmas” meme and it worked a treat.

I then sent her a photo (with idea credit to Goldmund) of a bottle of gin and a camera. Both mixed nicely together.

She sent me her address and I went to hers and picked her up. She was dressed casually and it was hard to predict what was to come … until I suggested a bar and she, surprised, thought she was coming to my house for a drink. Only a Gameless loser could lose this one.

At mine we relaxed – I had set up the futon as a bed rather than a lounge so there really was no other place to sit. My idea seed to get her to the house was to take some photos, but an older seed had been planted: I wanted to play her a few tunes on the piano. A colleague had remarked that this would eventually become a “leg-opener” in time … and this had been proved right twice.

I played a few tunes – some soul ballads, a favourite jazz song and then some electronic dance music I had transcribed for the piano. Sitting there comfortably eating Pringles, she didn’t offer me any, so when she finally did, she broke off two pieces and placed them on her breasts, inviting me to eat.

I ate greedily and said we would make out at some point:

“What makes you think that? We are just friends,” she grinned.

“What kind of friend comes over at 9pm and makes him eat Pringles off her breasts? CAUGHT!” I replied and out-grinned her.

I gave her a foot massage and proceeded from there: first legs, then arms, back and finally, her chest. She had big, gorgeous breasts and she was bronzed all over. I think at this point we made out and I remember the kiss – it was a long, continuous hold over the lips, very sensual, and different to other girls, most of whom kiss in waves of feeling.

Her shorts came off, showing a nice green and lean pair of knickers. I sat her head on my lap and gave her a face massage and posed a question – shall I continue all over? She agreed, much to my delight.

I slid my hand through her knickers and then took them off. I couldn’t help myself and just opened her legs and started giving her head. Some girls you struggle to find the clitoris – this was not a problem and it shone brightly like a beacon. She tasted good and later came. I sat her up then I stood up and led her into a blowjob.

I had jokingly heard the Brazilians learn how to give a blowjob at school – it proved true. I had received plenty yet hers had tongue along the shaft and was slow from base to tip.

I later stood her up and in her post-orgasm daze she just stood there waiting to be led with a “where are we going?” vibe. It was a gentle reminder of how easily a girl can be led.

I took her into the bedroom. I was tired after the swim so a little flat. A polite request to her to sit on my face revived my spirits. There’s a great sensation for a man when a girl is sitting on his face and she starts to grind so hard into you that you could suffocate. Eating girls out is intoxicating and I get into a drunk state.

She came two more times that night and I didn’t blow … but what a great experience. There’s that wonderful sensation when you are looking down on a woman as you take her from behind and say to yourself – how did I get here? How on earth did this happen?

And God bless that ripple when you slap a Brazilian butt!


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.

3. Long distance exercise and not enough calories can smash your erection.

Field Report 001 – With Wing “Counsel”

Counsel and I had met at a Daygame workshop in Sydney and I was intrigued by him. He was Indian yet threw me with an Irish accent (which I later found was a hybrid expatriate accent from his time in Dubai). He seemed keen to wing yet lived in Wollongong. We set a date for a night out where he would stay at mine and then we would daygame the next day.

Our text exchanges showed some similarity in our philosophy and purpose – repeat, dominant sex with women vs new notches.

Over drinks and dinner we shared the pre-winging ritual of notch-ery, Red Pill knowledge and Game principles. I felt like a teenager sharing notch stories, the kind of rush I had not had in years.

We went to my local area Kings Cross. My pitch to him was some Night Game at some smaller bars and mingling places rather than the big clubs that we clearly were not our kind of place.

At one small downstairs dive bar – Chachi’s – we scanned the place and ordered drinks. Counsel seemed a little nervous and I sensed he needed a drink to get started. (Later I was surprised at his sheer lack of approach anxiety). My approaches:

1. Opened an 18 year old who was there for her birthday. Great figure, easily teased. With the boyfriend who looked like a grub.

2. Opened a crazy old Chinese woman with a sailor’s hat as a pawn to get to an Asian girl toward the end of the bar. Stopped short as I was distracted with another Asian girl who appeared as was about to open the first one. Grabbed the old bird’s breast by accident. C cup.

3a The surprise Asian girl happened to engage immediately and I launched straight into my groping incident. She sympathised … and then made a second launch about an old girlfriend of mine who covered her breasts when we fucked because she thought they were too small. This girl was of similar size. She later joined her friends at a Pac Man table and I had to work out a second approach.

3b Asian girl re-approached and loud Aussie blonde friend intervened. The Loud One and I joked about how it was polite to saying hello before dragging a guy to a toilet to give him a blowjob. I neutralised her and asked whether she was the nominated Cockblock for her Asian friend. She told me I had already been pre-approved by the Board. Later I openly hit on the Asian girl and handed her my phone with the name title Random Asian Girl. Number close. A nice moment later where I held her hand for a bit a la Sixty Years of Challenge.

We left and Counsel did a Guttergame set of a posh woman waiting for a UberShare (obviously not that posh). He recounted it afterwards to me and mentioned he had tested the number after he had number closed her. Oh dear. (This was a good lesson, along with working on the idea of girls in motion vs stationary girls and how to soften the approach.)

A quick dip into Tatler’s across the road. No approaches but I did reach out my hand to a few girls to see if they would bite…and moved very slowly against a woman and took her hand) who had given me a strong Indicator of Interest while dancing. We were done by this time.

I bought some tobacco, paper and filters on the way home. This was one of my lessons from the date with the Dutch girl – smoke a little if she does.

Next day we went to the markets in Potts Point. I opened a two-set of Brazilians, a weird set as I hit on both girls, disqualified myself from the less interesting one as I told her she looked like my cousin, then launched into Portuguese with the other. She took my number with the offer of a beer with her friend later. It never eventuated.

Counsel and I walked up to Hyde Park. For a man who had never made a cold approach I was amazed at his lack of approach anxiety. His approaches:

1. Young blonde in motion, front stop, turned out to be a lesbian which was later proved true by a gay friend of hers walking past.

2. Seated blonde on the grass, long set, as a random British guy and I watched on and ran a commentary on Counsel’s brass balls and fearlessness. German nanny, Facebook details.

Takeaways from this report:

1. Tobacco on hand for girls who smoke

2. Good night game venues resemble American bars where everybody socialises

3. Counsel has little approach anxiety

Date Report 001 – Dutch Girl

I met her in Martin Place as part of my boot camp with Paul and Zac.

She was dreamy and I had seen her a number of times while walking up Pitt St. I front stopped her and had the sun in my face; her eyes were brown and bright; her face a little ruddy; and her tan likely the product of a day’s tanning at a local beach.

The stack was silly – dreamy walk, tan, etc. I picked her as Northern European, called her Polish, and then she told me she was Dutch. My heart dropped – Dutch girls were beautiful but their energy is drab and direct. I contained myself, stacked further about my work, and then closed strong and got her number.

We arranged a date for the next Thursday and met at the Glenmore Hotel in Sydney. Great rooftop bar but crowded with Christmas parties. She turned up in a red jumpsuit, surprised me by covering my eyes…and when I opened them I inadvertently redirected my eyes to her breasts. Poor start.

She was a drinker, a smoker and a vegan. One of them was a vice in my opinion. Good open, about an hour on the rooftop, and she mentioned a liking for Billie Holliday. I moved venue after about 45 min, my voice croaky after sharing (socially) five menthol cigarettes.

We ended up at Cafe Lounge in Surry Hills. She and I shared hamburgers and I spiked with the usual questions about telling me a secret, sexual escapade, etc. She had unusual eyes, the kind that would follow you around when you moved your head, like holes in the eyes of a painting portrait scanning you as you strolled around a gallery.

Dutch females are direct – too direct and have it as part of their strong identity – and this in my opinion skews sexual polarity to a point where a man really has to dominate to achieve some kind of sexual tension; or let her do the work. A Dutch man I met near Amsterdam confided that he never went back to Dutch women after his Dutch girl at the time just stopped having sex with him mid-coitus – later that week he met a Brazilian and never went back.

I had shared a sexual adventure story with her to see if she would offer the same – she did. A nameless French guy (“I can’t remember now – it’s in the past”) she fucked in some rose bushes while her colleagues looked on. Incredulously, she said to me that if she ever fell in love with someone she would tell them 100% the truth about her past, including stories like these, because she valued the truth. I admonished her and said no guy investing in a girl ever wanted to hear a story of his girl being railed like that. She demanded to know: “why? It’s the truth.” I knew the date was done at this point.

There was a jazz band playing and I got up to sing. A few cigarettes, some awkward moments, and a few smashed shot glasses. We wrapped up and she suddenly panicked about missing her bus so I gave her a warm hug and said goodbye.

I reached out to her later if she wanted to see me and she said she was too busy before her trip to Melbourne. (Despite her directness, most women don’t seem to be able to overtly reject a guy and so let them fade away – men ought to do the same.) So I called out the elephant in the room and said I knew she wasn’t attracted to me and wished her well, with the warning that she should never tell a guy she loves that she was smashed by some nameless French guy in a rose bush while colleagues looked on…

Daygame Bootcamp – Part Three Final

Coach Paul asked his assistant Zak to join us and as we were relaxing on the steps of the GPO in Martin Place watching talent walk by, they asked me what I was trying to get out of this. What were my goals?

I hadn’t thought it through clearly, you know, the kind of goals you would stick to a bathroom mirror or be able to recite to anybody who asked.

I didn’t know. I mumbled a mixture of adventure sex, x number of sets/dates per week, x number of lays per month – quantifiable stuff and philosophical blue sky statements like “overcome fear of women” and “build a Daygame skill set”. Perhaps it was the adrenaline thrill, the dopamine rush, the brief moments of flirting, the equivocations of women when they have a boyfriend, or the constant challenge on the mind and heart. I don’t know – but I had been placed in a zone of feeling that gave a rush and a flow I had not experienced in years, if ever.

Zak pushed me a little – rightly so – about the weasels: those micro-doubts which lead to micro-avoidance. Some are big, some are small, some are hidden. Part of the Daygame process is to try and identify and neutralise them – they creep in and drain energy from your approaches. I get the sense it’s the forebrain creating doubt on the hindbrain’s desire to approach, with layers of societal conditioning and Nice Guyism at play.

Coach Paul, the following day, had pushed me hard and the cognitive load was taking a toll. I needed to slow down. I had realised that the highs of Daygame were being stymied by the hard rock bottom sting of blowouts and rejections and the ever-lingering weasels that drag on your psyche like dead weights around your neck.

We wrapped up our Daygame bootcamp – I had watched Coach Paul play out many one-and-two sets, pushed me to learn the tradecraft, and realised some minor successes along the way. It was addictive, exciting and challenging … and led to my first Daygame date – a cute 23 year old Dutch brunette.

Daygame Bootcamp – Part Two

Say I treated it like a field report for the two days:

1. Swedish girl – wheel around front stop, much better looking during the interaction, commented that Swedish guys only ever do this when they are drunk, last two days in Sydney …. but no close.

2. Hungarian girl – wheel around front stop, figure skater, dreamy and flirty, commented that (insert nationally) guys never do this, has a boyfriend … then a brief moment of doubt where she equivocated when I said “I don’t want to be your boyfriend”…but no close.

3. Malaysian Chinese girl – IoIs, front approach, giggly and friendly, then when I asked her about her passions she mentioned a piano …. and we were standing next to one. One song each, I sang. Strong close, got the number, later told me by text she was “being friendly”, was “bi” and “leaned towards woman”. (Predictable)

4. Argentinian – wheel around front stop, moving very quickly, dressed in black for her hospitality job. When I mentioned a South American sway, she said yes and it lead to picking her as Argentinian. I told her I had been to Buenos Aires earlier in the year she crossed her arms and said “bullshit – you’re lying”. I said: “hey, with that attitude you must be porteña (from Buenos Aires)”. A lot of sass, push back, attempts to escape … but a number close and texting back and forth.

5. Dutch – saw her a number of times before I made an approach in Martin Place. Good set, sun in my eyes, a few eye spazzes and some light shoulder punching. Number close and my first Daygame date (future post).

6. Plenty of bad sets – no proper stop, ejecting when a girl grabbed her handbag, ejecting when a girl was on the phone however had crossed her legs as an IoI, missed approach due to construction noise, missed approach due to weaselling a number of times, hiding behind fatigue as an excuse to not approach.

Daygame excites the senses and gives more highs and lows than I’ve ever experienced.

Daygame Bootcamp – Part One

I went to a Daygame meetup a few weeks ago which was advertised through Michael Daygame PUA to see a well-known Daygamer called Yad. Well, Yad was stuck in Singapore and the presenter went on to be a young guy by the name of Paul.

Paul gave a good presentation on Daygame under the watchful eye of the bar manager and two HBs serving drinks at the small bar attached to the function room. I was intrigued – should I take the plunge and get some coaching?

Daygame contacts had been hard to find in Sydney … yet the world opened up to me that night and a few connections formed. But what’s was I supposed to do on the street?

Paul and I met for a two day bootcamp – first a coffee to discuss my situation and story (a bit like the born-again Christians telling their sinful past … except for Betas it’s always the opposite – a clean past); and then up to Hyde Park for the first cold approach sets I had ever done in my life.

I remember it clearly – a young Brazilian girl with a sports bag walking away from me … and Coach (as I called him) told me to go do a front stop and compliment her. There was a rush of adrenaline and then I …. did it.

Surprisingly, she reacted positively and thanked me for it. The mental load was too much and it felt like my brain was bursting as I walked back to Coach Paul.

We talked about Indicators of Interest – mostly eye contact (and its various levels of intensity and frequency) – and I noticed a double eye take from a girl sitting on a bench. We walked past … and I had to return and open the set. There was no number close, a fumbled exchange and then I left.

Later, about ten minutes after, Coach Paul showed me a set and while it was happening, Double Take walked past me, taking a very long and circuitous route to get to her appointment … right past me. The Law of Proximity came into play … and after a weird set citing eyelash extensions and throwing in some talk about my son, I got her number. (She later didn’t bother replying to a text, but who cares?)

My very first number close.

Reframing and Pickup

The Player’s Journey – in my words, a giant reframing exercise for a man expressed in the form of pickup and game.

KrauserPUA talks about this (and thanks to the link from MichaelDaygame) and inspiration for writing came from The Red Quest.

For me it was the crushing feeling of leaving my son to live with his mother and realising that the Blue Pill dream of goodness through investing left me with nothing. Typical Beta story but why would pickup help?

I came home, ended a monogamous relationship with the words “I’m a lover and don’t want an exclusive relationship”, got my own place, hit dating apps and social circle game, and had sex with three leads in five days. One online lead, one night game lead, one old single mother lead.

A string of hard blue balls ensued – a local girl who felt pressured for sex after three dates, a Brazilian who didn’t want to come over after three dates, a Kenyan girl naked on my floor who said she “didn’t like sex” after being massaged and fingered, a Dutch girl who only wanted condom sex after indicating my clear STI results.

A challenge was set for me by a colleague – 24 dates by 24 December with 50% converting to sex. It felt like schoolboy locker talk. A map was set out at work with an asterisk indicating a lay and a circled number over the country in question.

Another colleague broke a long drought by dipping into Seeking and getting three raw lays within two weeks. The competition was set and it was game on.

Daygame and pickup resources became my staple – Mystery Method, Tom Torero, Krauser PUA, Heartiste, Goldmund and a string of Red Pill and game blogs to help me. There was sympathy within the community, an understanding of how something as simple as sleeping with women could transform a man.

And then the reframing set in. I started qualifying women, not seeing them again if they were flakes or the sex was ordinary, buying sex toys and sexting, hitting on lots and lots of women, becoming a cad of sorts and sexualising situations.

A small but subtle shift occurred as well – a sensing of sexual tension with women, an awareness of the delicate glances and fuck-me stares that are given in an instant. I never imagined that the Red Pill sat just below the surface and I could not see it.

Then the girl I was seeing before re-entered the picture. She knew it was wrong for her – she wanted a monogamous relationship – but, surprisingly (or not for people in this community), she didn’t care. The sex was hotter and dirtier than ever. We had sex in a spare room at a party; on the lounge while my son slept in another room; and the dominance got stronger and stronger. Now the relationship has been reframed as non-monogamous … which is exactly where it should have been initially.

The Betas of the world don’t know what the other side is like…and when you discover it you kick yourself for not knowing. It becomes personal – why did nature make me the Beta? Why am I not rewarded as a man? Why is it my struggle and not for others?

The struggle just makes the Player’s Journey more exciting.