Red Pill Vignette – The Czech Woman


I am in Berlin at the moment, supposedly on a Eurojaunt … yet my leads (French Banker, Miss Boulder, The Neighbour) are drying up rapidly so more like a Eurotaunt. In the meantime I will write about some of the highlights of my Red Pill existence in the form of vignettes, or small character studies.

The idea of vignettes came from a book I read many years ago – A Writer’s Notebook by W. Somerset Maugham. He would compile short anecdotes, stories and draft short character studies of people he met in his life. Some of these would form characters in his novels.

Enter Somerset Maugham

Red Pill and likely homosexual – a lethal combination for a writer. He saw women for what they were – seductresses, duplicitous, controlling. He had the added benefit of being the “gay male girlfriend”.

Maugham is one of my favourite writers. I read him in my earlier and more vulnerable years when I was an overweight, friendless nerd in need of some sexing to break my virginity. There was a collection of his works at the local library that I devoured and I ended up purchasing the ones I liked the most:

1. Of Human Bondage

2. The Razor’s Edge

3. The Moon and Sixpence

4. Collected Short Stories

What each of these had in common were strong female characters written by a man who was likely homosexual and who had a true understanding of female sexuality.

The Moon and Sixpence is a fictionalised account of the life of Paul Gauguin (in the book known as Strickland) and contains a story early on in the book that summarises for me Maugham’s true understanding of women:

(Strickland) is helped and supported by a commercially successful but hackneyed Dutch painter, Dirk Stroeve (coincidentally, also an old friend of the narrator’s), who recognises Strickland’s genius as a painter. After helping Strickland recover from a life-threatening illness, Stroeve is repaid by having his wife, Blanche, abandon him for Strickland. Strickland later discards the wife; all he really sought from Blanche was a model to paint, not serious companionship, and it is hinted in the novel’s dialogue that he indicated this to her and she took the risk anyway. Blanche then commits suicide – yet another human casualty in Strickland’s single-minded pursuit of art and beauty“.

(Wikipedia entry on Maugham, accessed 29 May 2019)

To me, Strickland’s dark energy as a man – his Alphaness and dominance – inexorably draws Blanche to him. She abandons Stroeve – a helpless Beta – and is used by Strickland, presumably both as a model and sex partner. Her loss of Strickland – her Alpha widow status – leads her to commit suicide.

Maugham’s work was my first exposure to Red Pill theory and the art of vignettes.

Tuesday Nights

One Tuesday night, some months back, I decided to go out for a dance at a common establishment in Sydney. It was known for being a combination of a place to dance and a place to pick up.

I arrived early and struck up a conversation with a dapper looking Maugham-esque chap at the bar who was a wedding MC and had, in a previous job, financed the construction of the bar.

Don Draper-esque look

He and I chatted about approaching women and he gave me a classic textbook approach:

“Look for women who are looking at you. Smile at them. When they look away, come back in and smile at them a second time. If they return the smile, go approach them as soon as possible.”

I watched him approach around ten women that night – in groups, on their own, next to him at the bar. He was an expert at it – well-dressed, charming, and warm. And married.

The Czech Woman

I made my way around the bar, talking to women and making a comment about their dress: “I like your (insert details). Let’s dance a little later. I will come and find you”. And then I would point at them. It seemed to work.

As I passed through one of the thoroughfares, a woman stepped into my path. She appeared to be Eastern European, in her mid thirties, and with a shaved undercut more reminiscent of a lesbian Instagram fitness model. We chatted and danced for a bit – she was from Czech Republic and was here with work colleagues as they had all lost their job that day so were celebrating!

I let her go and scanned the room for interest. I danced with an Italian girl as well as an attention-seeking Argentinian girl whom I knew was there for the dance. You could tell who wanted to dance and who wanted to be seduced.

I made my way back round and the Czech Woman was again in my path. Let’s call this Orbit Theory.

Orbit Theory

Magnum ( and I have been discussing this concept where a woman will subconsciously or consciously put herself within orbit of a situation where a high-value guy will try to seduce her.

I am sure this has been given many names within the community but I just wanted to define it for myself.

Some examples:

1. Dance classes – where a woman will join a salsa class to fall into orbit with a high-value guy, generally the teacher who is fit, attractive and Latin. Some women will go further and travel to the teacher’s country to learn more “dance”. Cuba is a good example of Thailand in reverse – white women looking to have a holiday romance with some black Cuban guy.

2. Boot camps – where a woman will join a bootcamp presumably to get into shape but more as a validation exercise where she is being led by a fit guy who could potentially become the object of a sexual dalliance.

Both of these above have solid real life examples of women who were seduced by the dance teacher or the gym instructor. It’s so common to the point of being a cliche.


As the Czech Woman and I met again – with her standing in my path – I decided to dance with her and chat about her haircut. She was proud of the look and I jokingly told her she looked like a lesbian: “Oh really, my husband cuts my hair.”

Don’t just a lesbian-y looking undercut girl by her cover – she might just be straight!

I think at this moment I looked at my watch and realised that an hour or so had passed since I met her to when she told me about the husband.

She was wearing a green/emerald dress. I must have been attracted to her as I am a lover of emeralds. I asked her about the brand and she showed me the label: “SEDUCTION“.

I moved to the bar and invited her to have a drink with me. It was a tease and I joked that she would buy drinks for the both of us. In the end I bought drinks for her.

We sat down on high stools and I remember her facing me and being positioned between my legs, hers closed and mine open. She had seen a screenshot of my son as I ordered the drinks and we got on to the topic of children:

“I have been seven years married and we are trying for a baby. Soon we will be going to IVF as nothing is happening.” She spoke with some lamentation in her voice.

“Let me suggest something that will make you pregnant”. I innocently suggested.

“What?! Sex?” She replied indignantly.

“No … competition“. I paused and looked at her intently, channeling every last ounce of seductive energy to pierce her mind with pure sexing – the kind of look where at the top of your mind is the thought of you fucking her from behind and blowing inside her.

We locked eyes and I felt in my being that she deeply understood what I was suggesting.

The silence was all.

Tea For Two

I signalled to her that I was planning to leave. She said she would come with me outside. I cautioned her and asked whether her friends would be concerned. She did not care and came outside with me.

As we stood outside the bar, her phone began to ring and she answered it. It was her husband. She had a brief conversation with him and then ended the call. Her first reaction was to slightly belittle him and she harped on about how he had scolded her for (a) going out and (b) wearing a cocktail dress.

I asked whether she wanted to join me for tea. “Tea or ‘tea’?” I countered her concern with even more plausible deniability and looked at her with a micro-smirk: “Tea”.

Tea for Two set – where one cup hops on the other

My car was parked some distance away and she told me that she would accompany me to the car. As we got to the car, she relented and said that she had to go.

I stood above her and put my hand around her back. I could feel the charge was building and said to her: “you’re not going anyway“, pulling her in and making out with her and pushing her against the car. I pulled back and I could see she was impressed with the make out.

“Let’s go right now”.

She paused – and paused – and paused – and then finally said with a heavy heart: “I have to go”.

We exchanged details and I asked her whether she would like piano lessons at my house. She balked and said: “Private lessons? Just piano lessons and nothing else“.

“Come for tea … and piano lessons”. Again a micro-smirk. Again silence.

We said goodbye.

Guest Lay Report 002 – SDL, Fail, SDL by Paul Plow


I met Paul Plow (@paulcrown on Twitter) of Daygame Australia ( at a talk in October 2018 where the daygame old hand Yad was to appear. Due to Yad’s unforeseen issues coming to Australia, Paul subbed in for him and gave a great talk for a first time speaker.

Paul coached me a few weeks after that and we developed a friendship and bond despite the 16 years difference in age. There were as many successful lay stories of Paul as moments holding his dick in his hand on the lounge trying to work out why leads were not responding to him. He and I shared many ideas about seduction, Red Pill and sex skills. I found him unusually ‘woke’ so-to-speak for his age and his best insights were when he shared his difficulties and vulnerabilities in the Player’s Journey.

When the following SDLs (and Fail) were happening, he was giving me live feedback on what was about to occur as he was using my house as a base. I can attest to the veracity of both SDLs as well as the fact that the Chilean girl who was HOT.

I found the highs and lows of this Daygame story compelling and asked Paul to tell me his story. Many in the seduction community only want to tell the highs – but the truly exciting storytelling rests in the “wounded warriors”, the “hero’s journey” and the “underdog”. I tweeted recently that Lay Reports should have an arc and be didactic (ie. teach something). The story is as follows:

Same Day Lay – Busty Chilean

Imagine a few cup sizes smaller and she’s a spitting image of the real thing!

Enter Paul:

It’s a sunny late afternoon in Sydney, my vibe is on I’m out doing solo daygame which is what I prefer now days and I’m horny and it’s shining through my eyes. I quite literally turn into a tiger when I’m horny, my eyes become glaringly focused. I walk with my chest up and all girls around notice, and I refuse to walk around anyone. I walk straight through the middle of the street, everyone sees I’m not to be messed with and guys walks right around, even guys double my size. I don’t actually have any ill intent and I’ve been in hardly any fights in my life, but testosterone does that to you makes you think you’re much bigger shit than you really are. That can be a good or bad thing but I’ll talk about this another time.

I spot a busty Chilean girl walking around the Royal Botanical Gardens behind the Opera House – exactly my type. She had a tight T shirt showing off most of her tits, they looked big and silicone filled, she had all the curves in the right places (not the tummy).

I wouldn’t be surprised if I had opened her before, which is usually what happens when I see a Latina girl who’s just my type.

However I haven’t opened her before, and she was my favourite type of Latina, one of those who hardly speaks English. She held solid eye contact I could see the eye sparkle, she had as much as a DNA tug as I did (a DNA tug meaning a genetic match – we both know biologically that us two reproducing is a good idea).

I hardly go for Same Day Lays these days due to poor logistics and most of the time attempting them they don’t lead to sex. Even if you manage to get them to your bedroom they often freak out since its all happening so fast you very likely wont ever see them again. The exceptions are the gifts from the daygame gods, examples are:

– A tourist only spending a couple of days here and doesn’t know anyone she’ll be much more inclined to fast adventure sex

– A girl who’s incredibly horny, maybe even as horny as you are. She hasn’t been fucked for a long time due to unforeseen circumstances

– A super Yes girl who just adores you physically and fancies you so much that even if it means fucking you so fast that she never sees you again is worth the risk

This girl was a mix of three – fancied me, leaving the country in a week, and didn’t know anyone here literally anyone. She was just staying for a short visit before she meets her friends in Bali.

Chatting to her went well even though she quite literally didn’t speak a word of English. It was mostly sub communication and body language. We were using Google Translator and getting very close to each other.

When it comes to seducing girls its is “feelz” above logic, meaning if you feel she’s attractive and you feel comfortable with her then she likes you too, most likely. Too often guys assume because she doesn’t speak English they can’t seduce her – speaking is logic, feelings are not. Girls are emotional creatures, not logical like us men – you can’t seduce a girl through logic. So stop freaking out if she doesn’t speak English!

Probing her logistics and finding out she doesn’t have any plans I invite her on an instant date. She complies and doesn’t even ask where we’re going. Walking toward the bar she was brushing up against me the whole way, a huge sign of horniness and her wanting to be close to me.

We got to the bar, drank a beer and it was mostly solid eye contact which I hardly broke once. I was showing her that I am an open book and have nothing to hide. She was scanning my eyes assessing my genetic makeup, which I believe she was subconsciously deciding at this moment that she’d fuck me.

We finished our beers and I said ‘lets go, I want to show you hyde park (where I intended to go for the kiss)’. As we were walking there she was physically in my frame totally and I’d test her – if I walked to the side a little she’d follow and If I stopped to tell her something she’d stop too and get very close to listen, putting herself in a position to be kissed.

We got to the park, and the time being early evening was pretty dark and secluded I went for the kiss when we got to the park, she melted into my body pushing into me, completely submitted, I pushed her away. Second time going for the kiss she was gliding her hands over my body and reached for my dick outside my jeans, she was very turned on. We made out 4 or 5 times through the park each time getting more sexual, I was kissing her from behind at once stage turning her neck and she was grinding her ass on my crotch, we were both ready to fuck, i just needed to make it happen.

I was horny, she was horny, and things seemed promising.

As a golden rule, if a girl ever reaches for your cock without you guiding her hands there then its a HUGE green light, and its time to move things towards sex ASAP before it’s too late.

I decided I was going to walk towards her hotel at Central and try and fuck her there but aborted mission half way through and decided I’ll fuck her at my friend Red Coco’s home since it felt like a sure thing and I didn’t want any logistical issues. We had already been walking for so long without her worrying or asking about where we’re going, which is usually a good sign she’s ready to be extracted.

We got on the train walked to the home, with no resistance at all. I was overly enthused at fucking her and went straight into escalation heavily making out on the futon, and she was reaching for my dick again, clothes came off quickly her body was perfect, big fake tits with a lean tummy and wide hips with a big ass that sticks out, literally the type of girl I’d chose to watch a porno of.

Was shit sex, my dick was in a bit of pain, having taken a wank the previous day. Though she got on top of me and rode me like an absolute Latina machine, that was incredible and it was a good reminder why I chase and love latinas so much. The most passionate sex I’ve ever had usually seem to be with latinas, they let you dominate but at the same time whatever you choose to do with them in the bed they do it with heart and soul. In this case I did let her snatch the frame a little bit and she pushed me down to ride me, I wouldn’t usually allow this but I knew I didn’t have much chance of seeing her again and she was leaving in a week anyway, so I just enjoyed the ride.

She left straight after sex due to it being quite a shit experience (no dominance, no ravishing).


Australian beaches – where the most dangerous animal is a jacked Instagram model

However we met a few days later and went to the beach. As we sat down at the beach she wouldn’t stop eye scanning other high value guys. She also stopped giving me public displays of affection, which she was doing a lot of during our ferry trip there and went silent. This was a strong boundary crossed, I wont put up with this behaviour and I’m not going to be tooled in front of other people at the beach. I asked her why she was doing this and she refused to tell me (confirming that she was behaving this way due to something personal). I got up and left her alone at the beach. It was as much as a painful sting to me as it would have been for her.

I had gone from an extreme euphoric high of banging a girl who was just my DNA type so quickly (something I used to dream about in my school days) to an extreme low of a harsh personal rejection. I believe she was scanning around seeing other high value guys and thinking ‘I don’t want to have shit sex with this guy again, since its my last couple of days here I want great sex with another high value guy and there looks to be plenty here’ especially because she was at the beach with so many jacked Aussie guys.

Who knows if she got what she wanted that night, I never spoke to her again. The reason I share the depressing end to the story is because I want to be vulnerable and honest about the players life. Nearly every successful player you’ll meet goes through life of extreme highs and extreme lows and it is unlikely they’ll ever go back to the balanced life of nothing really exciting happening but nor nothing extremely devastating ever happening to them like say your typical married office cubicle chode.

But it is what it is, and being unplugged and woke from the matrix seeing the world through a clear red pill perspective wins over a balanced life any time, I will always choose brutal harsh truths over a life of a delusion. And the life experiences of players, e.g. crazy wild sex and putting yourself so frequently in novelty wild situations make a life more than worth telling your grandkids about.

Same Day Lay – French Girl

As I returned to Circular Quay on my own after a very thought-filled trip back on the ferry, I decided to do a little daygame so that I can move on quickly and forget this girl ASAP. As a rule, this applies to all girls you’re obsessed over – ex girlfriends, girls you really liked who flaked on you, etc – go out and do daygame. The best way to move on is always by meeting other girls.

The Royal Botanical Gardens – known for its flora ‘samedaylayicus’

I thought the daygame gods might gift me if I return to the same park that I met the chilean, and boy was I right. I spotted a French Asian girl lying down – curvy brown features and an ass that stuck out. I went up and approached her. She was reading her book but she sat up instantly and locked eye contact eagerly. I had a good feeling from the get go.

We vibed and chatted to a bit after a bit the conversation got very sexual. We started talking about Tinder and she was saying that guys only go on tinder for sex. I told her that if I’m horny then I go out hunting: I don’t just stay at home swiping on Tinder. My honesty, and being openly sexual encouraged her to be openly sexual, she started telling me she hadn’t had sex for 6 months and that when she’s horny she never meets the right guy. These were bright green lights, she also hardly knew anybody here and was an introverted girl – typical types for Same Day Lays.

The reason why the French colonised Vietnam!

After a while she actually suggested an instant date, saying there is a cool bar nearby that has happy hour at this time, and she needed to return there since she left her pencil case there.

We got in to the bar and she was right up next to me from the get go on the sofa. Right in kissing distance, we got stuck into the Questions Game. It was easy to get the conversation sexual again since we had already started in the park. I was telling her she has great tits and ass and she accepted my advances, telling me all the guys tell her the same.

When I finally went for the kiss it was an explosion, she was a thousand times more hornier than me, she literally just flopped into me, started moaning lightly and rubbing her pussy against my leg (I’m not exaggerating one bit).

It was time to extract. She already told me she lives nearby but her flatmate might be home. We chatted for a bit about where she lives and where I live – she would’ve definitely known that I was just sorting the logistics to fuck her in my head.

After making out a few more times she couldn’t take it anymore, she asked if she could go back to my home and it was easy from there. We took an uber straight back to my home, and she was rubbing my dick in the car the whole car ride home, I was also fingering her while maintaining a normal conversation with the driver. Which was exciting for both of us.

We got in, to the house I escalated straight away, she showed no resistance at all but just said “this is so fast” and I responded “yes it is” and kept escalating. Fucked her decently and we left shortly after, she was leaving the country soon too, but she was telling me she’d like to see me again, but I knew it would be unlikely.

When The War Is Over

Hope you enjoyed this war story, and I hope it inspires you to get back on your feet after shit happens. This world is literally swarmed with hot girl and girls who will fuck you. Daygame is a therapy for me, connecting with girls and having sex is the best medicine for any depressing thing that happens in your life. I am forever grateful for daygame including ups and downs, theres always something to be learnt.

As always,

Paul Plow

Red Pill Vignette – The Polish Girl

This girl is prettier and thinner than the Polish Girl!


I was discussing with Magnum ( over Twitter those Red Pill vignettes – brief, evocative episodes of Red Pill truth – which I had felt in the past with women but could not understand.

The Pilot

One of my dearest friends is gay – let’s call him the Pilot. He invited me, along with some friends, to an inner city gay pub called the Imperial to join him for a drink and a bit of partying.

He and I are close – and closely resemble a gay couple in appearance and affection. It’s strange – we just love each other as friends. There is no fear of affection, hugging, kissing on the cheek or anything that could be labelled “gay” – we are deeply bonded … even if he sucks cock and I eat pussy.

The Pilot thinks of himself as Deano – an all-singing, all-piloting kind of guy!

The Polish Girl

A opera singer friend of the Pilot’s turned up, along with some random camp dude and an ordinary looking Polish girl. She was also an opera singer and was in Australia on a holiday.

We took to talking and briefly discussed the usual about an overseas holiday – what have you seen? What do you think of the people? etc. The usual chitchat.

The Pilot and I are usually pretty energetic, bouncing jokes off each other and enjoying each other’s company. He and I got to the discussion about how the hotel had been used in the film Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and that there was a drag show later – basically a transvestite miming some power ballad while standing on the bar.

The Polish girl and I got back into conversation about men and she proudly told me that she had joined Tinder while in Australia – “I mean, I’m on holidays, right?”

I was inquisitive – Tinder had always been a cesspool for me – so I asked her about it as if I did not know anything about it.

“Yes, it has been very good”. She showed me an assortment of guys that had matched with her … and they proceeded to tell me that she had FUCKED SEVEN GUYS SINCE SHE HAD ARRIVED TWO WEEKS AGO … and that she intended to maximise her time here as she only had a few days left.

She was a dreadful-looking girl, beefy and bloated. No doubt she could sing coloratura in addition to sucking random cock. I might have thrown her a rose while on stage as Aida but that would be it.

She showed me some of the guys she had fucked – a mixed bag. The faces looked equally hungry.

Maverick, Jr.

We got on to the topic of my son and I showed her a few pics. She warmed – briefly – before asking about his mother and the arrangements between us.

“Well, we share the child equally. It’s the best arrangement at the moment”, I replied drily.

“Yes, but, how does it work legally in this country between the two of you? … I want to say, what is the legal agreement?” She looked at me puzzled.

“Well, you sit down and make an agreement”. I couldn’t understand the line of questioning.

“Yes, but you are gay … so how does it work?”

I went quiet and looked at her. “Umm, well, we have an agreement to share custody. I’m not gay by the way”.

Tinder Redux

She stiffened considerably and I saw the briefest flash in her eyes of ‘what have I done?’

“Yeah, I take care of him. It’s just me at the moment – single Dad. I don’t really want to introduce new women to him”.

I remember a coldness entering the room and her conversation dried up to next to nothing. She was a few paces away from our friends so could not bridge the gap. I threw in a bomb.

“So, have you lined up a guy for tonight? You haven’t got much time left”.

She was silent.

A Love Letter to Miss Bumblebee

“You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free”. – Thich Nhat Hanh

TL;DR – This is a love letter to a woman I love very much.


This is a love letter to Miss Bumblebee. She reads the blog and is the only girl that knows about it.

I can imagine your thoughts as to why I would tell a girl about a blog that purports to explain my process of transforming into a Player – “the changing nature of a man” as the title suggests.

I took a risk – I decided that I would tell the truth, that as women craved leadership, guidance and masculine direction to lead them down the road of relationship and children, I too would show the truth of what I wanted and who I was as a man.

I wanted sex. I wanted validation. I wanted to feel that I had dominance over women and could seduce them through charm and power. I wanted to overcome the demon of being a fat kid. I want to be attractive to women, channeling my masculine energy to give them peak sexual experiences. That’s what I wanted.

But with Bumblebee I was reminded of what it was like to be Blue Pill – romantic, boyfriend-like, emotional. I was in love – I still am in love with her – and I like the fact that I felt all these things without needing Game or seduction or power plays.

I asked a lot of guys in the seduction community about love. Many threw the same platitudes at me: oneitis, women can never love you in the way that you love them, love is a skill, etc.

So I came to a conclusion, drawing on the words of an Address in Freemasonry:

“he bears his furrowed brow and presents his bosom fearlessly to the midnight storm”.

Men in the Red Pill/seduction community are afraid of expressing themselves. They are fearful of love. They are fearful of emotion. They are fearful of the loss of power that accompanies an expression of feeling. They suffer from a “failure to feel”, much like my father, so they can stay in control.

I am determined to not be that cardboard cutout Red Pill seduction guy.

I am my own man.


My family and I arrived in Pisa on a cheap flight from Berlin. My brother and his then girlfriend had planned a two week trip through Italy – describing it as the last great family trip for all of us.

I was accompanied by son – it was the first overseas trip since I split with my ex and the longest period I had taken care of him on my own. Five weeks with a two year old.

We arrived at the Tower of Pisa, rounding the corner to find this incredible structure replete with a church and a baptistery. It was a huge piazza and I was amazed at how very few photos showed the extent of the area.

This photo does not show the church or baptistery either – just go there and see it.

Chinese tourists mingled and approached my son, not asking for permission to pick him up and take a photo with him. I liked that, surprisingly.

Dad and my brother took silly photos of hands pushing the tower over, the kind of shots you’d get for posterity. It was sweet.

Dad, rounding out almost 78 years, came over to be with me. My family had separated from us and we looked longingly at the Tower.

I was reminded of the difficult year that had passed. My ex had left me, I ended up living with my parents at 36, my Dad had discovered an auto-immune disorder that had driven him to the brink of suicide, my Mum had lost control and wanted to leave the house and the marriage, and I had been sexless and angry and lost for 12 months. It was an Annus Horribilus.

I asked him what he thought of the Tower:

“Not bad”.

“Dad, be honest with your feelings. Now is the time. Just let go.” I placed my hands on his shoulders: “How do you really feel looking at this Tower?

His eyes watered up – so did mine – and he finally told me something real:

“It’s wonderful. I’m so glad that I could be here with all of you.”

He no longer suffered from a failure to feel.

Pablo Neruda

My ex-father-in-law, from a relationship with a Colombian girl many years, was an exceptionally tough and passionate man.

He embodied all the qualities of strength, dominance, seduction – and emotion.

I laugh as I read some of the trite on Twitter – men who encourage me to throw my son off a cliff for crying, absurd commentary on not expressing emotion with women.

This man – my ex-father-in-law – let’s call him Neruda. He was a warrior, a poet and an artist.

He grew up at a time when, walking home from school, he would discover men strung from trees with their throat cut and tongue pulled through. He was in the Colombian Army in the early fifties – exceptionally under-resourced and a rabble. He travelled around the continent selling pharmaceuticals and wooing women.

And he loved Neruda and poetry. It took him 35 years to get to La Isla Negra in Chile to see where the poet lived and wrote. When he arrived in Chile, he expressed himself freely, crying and rejoicing the arrival.

He lived strongly and he felt even more strongly.

I am so glad to have had him in my life.

He reminds me of what a man can be when he decides to live freely.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

I Learnt Many Great Lessons From My Father

One of the opening quotes is something that resonated with me for a long time. It was from a speech Jim Carrey gave at a university graduation. As he concludes the quote below, there is a moment – a micro-expression – of deep grief for his father.

“My father could have been a great comedian but he didn’t believe that that was possible for him, and so he made a conservative choice. Instead, he got a safe job as an accountant and when I was 12 years old he was let go from that safe job, and our family had to do whatever we could to survive. I learned many great lessons from my father. Not the least of which was that: You can fail at what you don’t want. So you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.”

The purpose behind the blog, behind seduction, behind being good with women – is because I failed at what I did not want for my life.

A Letter

Dear Miss Bumblebee,

I know you have asked me why I am doing all of this.

I have a demon inside of me that said I would never again let a woman decide the kind of relationship for my life.

When I dropped my son off to live with his mother, I felt like I had failed. I had failed at being good and so decided I would live a life of truth.

I failed at something I did not want.

I decide for myself that I would always choose the kind of women I wanted in my life, and the the kind of relationship I want with them. That’s it.

I was – I am – deeply in love with you in a way that I have never experienced. But I know that between us, you want a life of marriage, cohabitation and children. I cannot do that.

I would prefer to love myself – and my own choices – than be with you and feel that I was not a complete man.

I am becoming a complete man by taking control of my own life and relationships – including ours.

I genuinely care for you. This sexual roller coaster of women is simply a way I discover my power as a man.

For the first few months when we were together, we were in a bubble of excitement, lust and love. It was very strong between us.

The feeling deepened and we travelled overseas together. There I realised that my plan of being sexually free had hit a wall – I was angry and ashamed as a man to feel that I had “committed” to you sexually yet wanted to fuck many girls around me. In fact, the purpose of the trip was that.

Infidelity used to bring me a lot of shame, as if I was making a deep mistake as a man. Now I feel free and do not feel any shame for my sexuality or desire. Man are by design like this – and so are women.

The Red Pill is the truth of evolutionary biology, and teaches many harsh realities about intersexual dynamics between men and women.

It teaches men about Alpha – characteristics in men which sexually arouse women and provide the best indicators of genetic fitness. Men with power, physical strength, doing what he wants, speaking his mind, having a purpose, and expressing his desire freely.

It teaches men about Beta – characteristics in men which make women feel provisioned for (resources) and safe in their lives. Men with tenderness, empathy, and compassion.

Women crave both of these qualities in men – sexual arousal and safety/security.

I gave you both of those experiences.

This is why your previous loves were safe and secure but they did not generate the passion and excitement you craved, the sheer lust, the fucking, the dirtiness.

I was that guy. The guy you wanted to fuck. Uncontrollably. All the time.

That dirty guy – me – who fucked you in the park on my birthday. When I dragged you downstairs to that empty room at the birthday party. When we came home one night from tango and I stripped you down in the hallway and fucked you there before you rode me on the lounge. When you dressed up as a schoolgirl. When you dressed up as a Bumblebee.

That was thrilling and exciting for you.

But a guy like me wants to experience that with many women because most women do not experience it. Alphas cannot be contained.

I cannot contain this energy just to you. I want to share it with other women. This journey of the last six months has been to discover in every way possible how to seduce women. That’s the purpose of this blog – to document that journey.

For a time you felt that I would change, I would become loyal to you – and only want you. That is not me. I would be lying to myself if that was the case.

And I promised myself when I dropped off my son that I would never again lie to myself about what I want. It’s not just about sex – it’s about the freedom to live the life that I want. My world. And my world is not your world.

My world is about seducing women – single, with a boyfriend, married. About giving them exciting experiences and adventure sex. About romancing them and putting them in a love bubble. About letting women enjoy themselves sexually – with other men, with other women, at sex parties.

The blog is a dirty account of women – shocking even for you. Women crave the Alpha and Beta in a man, but sometimes the man does not have both. So sometimes she will seek out other men – exciting Alpha men who give her pleasure – and then return to her Beta boyfriend or husband.

Women cheat. Women fuck for pleasure. Women love dominance. Women love darkness and danger in men.

I know right from wrong – wrong is the fun one. – Anastasia @Faily_

Women also love the light – the love, the tenderness, the affection, the sweetness. But in life I think women receive too much of this and not enough excitement.

And in my life I have spent too much time in the light. Now I want to be dark.

I remember a sad conversation we had about our lives, how each of us wished we had had a mentor to guide us through and teach us what we needed to know so that we would not spend our lives going in circles.

I learnt that harsh lesson at 34 – that despite being good, being a father, being a man trying to do his best, I was never an Alpha, never a man that my woman would find arousing and attractive. Being good was a lesson in failure.

At 37 I started studying intersexual dynamics – what makes women really attracted to me. I studied the Red Pill, Game, seduction, evolutionary biology, fashion, fitness, female psychology, sex skills, and everything I could find to help me make sense of what had gone wrong.

It works. It makes women more attracted to me. They want me, they desire me, they get excited by me. It’s a power that I have never had.

And I see you now – a woman who feels betrayed that life did not give her a loving husband and children and a happy life. You feel the curse of your family, about why none of you decided to have children and carry on the family line.

For a moment there I wanted to be your White Knight and rescue you from your sadness – but then I realised, I had done that to the previous women in my life … and they were no happier. I went so far as to have a son to a woman I was not in love with.

I love children. My son is the greatest gift to me – and as I hold him up in the light I see myself in him. (Well, hopefully he’s mine!) You thought I would be a great father to children of yours – but you could not trust me enough to stay and commit to you.

You like me – you have loved me – because I have given your life direction and purpose. You see me as a leader, as a lover and as a father. You see me as the most attractive man in your life. And you have seen me in love and excited to be by your side.

Yet life has failed both of us. It has not taught us at an early age what makes men and women happy in their lives.

But for me I decided I would find out how to be a bigger man and live my own life.

And with great sadness, that life is without you. I cannot be the Good Guy by your side – it is not me. It is not my plan. It is not my world.

Some final words: I fell in love with you at a time before any of this – Game, seduction, etc. It was completely natural between us. I am thankful for that experience – it was never manipulative, just something that naturally occurs between human beings. I hold that close to me as something special, something I treasure. With someone I won’t forget.

We can now both look up and whistle while we walk so that our tears will not fall.

I look up as I walk . . .

Lots of love,

Always and forever,


Date Report 003 and 004 – The English Patient; and Workshop Girl

The English Patient

“Let’s be honest – you have just never been fucked properly!”

English girl, 25, and a good example of a pickup using skills I had obtained on the street applied to one of my music jams. I suppose it could be called Music Game.

She was a budding – but dreadful – jazz singer and I accompanied her on an out-of-tune rendition of Summertime. I had been playing for three hours and as the night ended, I noticed her moving out of the venue. I stopped her – like a daygame front stop – and very directly handed over my phone for her number and an offer to go out for a drink.

We met that Thursday night at a bar near her work. It was happy hour and we got drinks with minutes to spare. She took off her coat to discover a smashing figure and leopard skin top.

The date proceeded – a little dull although I knew she liked me so pushed ahead. When we started the Question Game I could see that she was going to ask lowball questions about favourite pizza toppings and the like. I sensed innocence – whatever happened to dirty, grubby English girls?

She was an accountant and, like many English girls, tended to hide her full expression of emotions through alcohol. Combined with accountancy, she was dull.

I bounced her to a second venue and we – I mean I – ordered drinks and dinner. There, at the venue, I sexualised the conversation as it really wasn’t going anywhere:

“Listen: we are going to make out before you finish that glass of wine”.

She looked at the wine glass like it was a prop in a Hitchcock movie – once it got to empty a bomb would explode. She glanced at it over and over again – I finally had her attention.

“Ahh, now you get it, you’ve realised that I’m here to decide whether I’m going to seduce you.”

I pushed her to sexualise the Questions Game – she had a vibrator, used it three times/week, never came during sex, had last had sex in October 2018, and had sucked off some guy when she was 18 and then told her boyfriend at the time. Ahh – now that’s the English girl I expected.

So I threw in a grenade to shake things up:

“Let’s be honest – you have just never been fucked properly!

She agreed.

We moved to another bar where I dragged her into a hallway and made out with her. It was dreadful. She was one of the worst kissers I have ever experienced – small, baby kisses like a child. No – strike that – my son is four and he has given me better kisses.

God – what was this girl going to be like in bed?

I put her in an Uber and sent her home. Haven’t seen her since.

Workshop Girl

“Look, I am a good guy. I really want to make sure that I can be the best man … for my son”.

Japanese girl, 33, and a good example of slow K-selected game.

We had met at one of the coffee shops in the city and I had sneakily grabbed her Line contact out of site of her colleagues.

One day, before meeting a new Daygamer, she came to meet me and trailed me around the city in a huge act of compliance. After the Daygamer arrived, I said goodbye and muttered to him: “I am going to fuck the shit out of that girl. It will be the best fuck of her life”.

She and I scheduled a coffee date and we went up to Hyde Park to talk. It was a lovely afternoon and we sat by the fountain where many Daygamers had done their first sets.

She was wary of me and could smell Player from a distance. She asked about whether I had a girlfriend, whether I had other women, my past relationships, etc. She told me about an old Taiwanese boyfriend of hers who had cheated on her so she left.

At this point I realised she was very K-selected and needed 2-3 dates at least to be ready to fuck.

So I softened, told her I had a fear of clowns, was learning how to tap dance, was a nice guy and did charity work in my spare time. She seemed unfazed.

Then I dropped the Joker on her:

“Look, I am a good guy. I really want to make sure that I can be the best man … for my son”.

She melted. I could visibly see that she had changed her image of me. The pendulum had swung in my favour.

We finished our coffee and she joined me to find a microphone for my camera as I was planning to film a piano/vocal session I was arranging. She ran around the city following me – yet another exercise in compliance – and we later said goodbye in front of Town Hall.

I resisted the kiss. I wanted to save it for later. When she does finally kiss me, I will ask her back to the house and give her the biggest fuckfest she has ever experienced.

Coco and Peach

An improbable combination


Peach was the subject of Lay Report 004 – Peach, a young 21 year old Swedish girl whom I met through a Sugar Daddy app and then fucked after she reached out to meet for a booty call.

Below is a summary of a dinner date I had with her some days later – where we planned the next step of our strange relationship.

Call Back

I did not expect to see her again. My last four lays had simply disappeared and did not want to meet again, presumably because of the quick nature of our meeting and seduction. Peach, however, I invited to dinner.

She was to meet me at 7:30pm at Town Hall Station. At 7:45pm, I was annoyed and decided that I would open the first girl I could find – a young 20 year old French art student who was sitting smoking nearby.

The girl I met was younger and hotter than this girl

We chatted for a good 30 minutes. I expected Peach to turn up any minute and find me talking to this girl … but she didn’t. I got the Smoker’s Instagram details before receiving a series of apologetic messages from Peach. She had slept through her alarm.

I asked her to meet me – on my terms – which she eventually did, apologising profusely for being late. It seemed plausible – her hair was wet which was a no-no in grooming so she must have rushed to get out of the house. She looked wonderful, wearing an expensive blouse and a pantsuit, draped from behind by her long hair.


My plan was to take her for a drink at Bambini, a wine establishment, before bouncing her to a rock venue called Frankie’s to eat pizza-by-the-slice. The pizza was out – she would have been the most overdressed person in the bar. So we went to drink wine and I thought of a new plan.

I rewarded bad behaviour by taking her here!

We sat down and I requested her to ask me a difficult question. I expected it to be something sexual, but the smart girl in her hit a nerve:

“Tell me how you feel about your new life now that your son is with his mother”.

This girl was bold. Committing a Red Pill sin, I told her how I felt – free to live a single life of debauchery, yet hurt that I could not spend enough time with him. But I came clean:

“To be honest, I am happy with the situation. His mother is a good parent and I want a free life”.

I could see that she was trying to compare her hardships to mine, but I knew she was realistic about how very few difficulties could be faced by a girl of 21 living a life of privilege in Sweden.

The conversation moved on and I asked her about the Snap message I had sent her:

“Now don’t get any big ideas that I will finger you under the table and fuck you in a disabled toilet.”

She told me she was only expecting dinner and danced around the topic of sex until I squeezed it out of her. She was on her period and did not like to fuck when bleeding.

I felt she had played me, got angry and paid the bill and left. She tagged along and eventually told me that as I had suggested dinner, she had come out. Women take whatever role you give them.

I cooled down and told her I would go for dinner – she was welcome to come if she wanted.

The Golden Century

We went to the Golden Century, the best Chinese restaurant in the country and a haunt for gangsters and criminals after midnight.

Over pickled vegetables and Satay chicken, we had a bizarre conversation about sex parties, erotic massage and vibrators.

I elicited from her the usual standard sex information I get out of girls – she had had sex with a woman, used the oral contraceptive pill, had never had sex with two guys before, had never tried anal sex, and had never been to to a sex party. I had overestimated her.

The Photo Shoot

A friend of mine, the Russian, had told me he needed a girl to do a photo shoot for a vibrator that he was importing into Australia. It was a small gig and only required a tasteful thigh shot in lingerie while holding the vibrator.

She seemed curious – not only for the cash but also the guy importing the vibrator. I asked her why: “well, whether I would fuck him”.

My World

I then told her about “my world” – which is essentially the essence of Frame. In my opinion, Frame is the world she steps into – yours. When she tries to snatch the Frame, she is attempting to draw you into her world.

The Frame I set for myself was a sex-positive guy involved in sex parties and partner swapping. She did not challenge this Frame and seemed genuinely curious to enter this world.

Except … there is no world. I bluffed her. A number of mates – RP Musicology, SG, and others – had teased the idea of going to sex clubs and parties. None of us had any contacts and I would wager little experience.

Propelled from my recent lays, I set about thinking what would strengthen my Frame as a Top Guy – and decided that I would create my own sex parties on a small scale and filter girls into it.

Drawing on Red Quest’s work (, I considered the following:

1. Pick up skills to attract as many young women as possible

2. Filtering/Frame skills to filter out the non-contenders

3. Sex skills to keep the girls interested and give the appearance of experience

4. Physicality and looksan essential quality for younger girls

Peach seemed keen and had never been involved in anything like that. I had her hooked.

Erotic Massage

Peach had mentioned during our hookup that she was interested in erotic massage.

I told her what I knew about it – she needed her own table and private location to receive clients, she needed to know about erotic massage techniques, and had to consider carefully what services she would provide.

She seemed green to all of this – liberalised Sweden had given her the idea that being a sex worker would be a good thing to do … but still she had the mindset of a new girl who had to find the guys attractive. Clearly she had no idea of what sex work entailed.

She had no venue to receive clients. I toyed with the idea of my house before realising it was too risky as I wanted to keep my place.

I suggested an erotic photo shoot and an advertisement on the internet. This fed into my interest in photography and a good example of how I could build an erotic photo collection to send to other girls.

But then a dark idea struck me – why not feed her Blue Pill clients from my other social gatherings? The Red Pill guys would not bother – they could already get girls. But the guys who struggled would be perfect candidates for an erotic massage with “my Swedish friend”.

I suggested that she attend one of my functions where she could meet up to 80 men, some of whom would be great candidates for erotic massage.

Face Off

“I could eat a Peach for hours”

As we sat there, I asked her whether she thought I was good with women. Very good, she said. I asked her why:

“Your looks, the way you talk to everybody, the way you talk to me as a woman. You remind me of my brother”.

She had joked about another sugar daddy she had – Paul:

“Perhaps he could be your first client”, I remarked. The guys on the site were dreadful in appearance and I knew this girl was fucking me because of my looks.

“I know you can pick up guys. You’re a hot little 21 year old from Sweden with a nice arse and fresh looks. And I’m an attractive guy and can pick up girls … so we are even”.

We stared at each other:

“But you are really just an innocent little girl who likes to wear pink and thinks she is more important than she really is. Tell me honestly: was it a good fuck between us?”

Very good, she said.

“Next time I see you, Peach, you are going to sit on my face”.

What Do You Want In Return?

We talked until 1am. The whole time she gently rubbed my leg and I sat there with an erection, thinking when I was going to fuck this girl again.

I did not get the sense there was strong desire between us – but I liked the girl. She was my test case to see whether I could bluff her into thinking I was more of a Top Guy than I really was.

I liked talking to her freely about sex and desire, to the point we were planning sex clubs and erotic massage.

I liked her innocence and Scandinavian squareness, at the same time seeing her trying to rebel against a heavily socialised and feminised system of thought.

I liked that she was the hottest woman I had ever met, was sexually open, on contraceptives (I could cum in her), and curious.

I liked that she was girly and loved dressing up and wearing pink.

I liked that she did not have the deep depth of sexual experience – this gave me space to draw her in.

She asked me what I wanted in return for all this. She understood value exchange:

“I like you – I haven’t made up my mind yet what I want”.

I had made up my mind – I wanted her to bring me new girls to initiate into sex parties, or friends who were not being fucked properly. I wanted to dominate her and introduce her to new sex acts – to choke her, tie her up, fuck her in the arse, and trade her with mates so I could fuck their girls.

It was a fantasy – but having coming so far in the last six months, I was ready to create this world rather than wait for others to gift it to me.

I dropped her home. The temperature had dropped and I gave her my jacket as she shivered up the street. We kissed a little and then she snuck inside, sending me a sweet message thanking me for the night.

Lay Report 005 – The French Banker

She was very similar to this stock image of a “businesswoman”

TL;DR: I banged a black French girl who I called The Banker. Long philosophical and romantic rant mixed in between the lay report.

Philosophical Précis

The post is more a philosophical musing session than pure lay report and fuckfest. There was plenty of fucking and dirty moments – but interlaced with romance and longing. Gammas , Twitter trolls and cardboard Alphas please leave now!

Nash from Days of Game ( had posted recently about his servicing of a young Korean girl whom he had met a number of times. I found the post poignant and timely – both the Swede Peach and now this French Banker had reached out to me even when I was not feeling particularly in a fuckery mood.

RP Musicology, a wing of mine and an upcoming star in the philosophy of seduction in Sydney (in my opinion), decided recently he would not go online to meet women as the ones he met brought an “overtone of sadness” to the date.

That phrase echoed with me – what is it that women long for apart from a good fucking session? Why do they bring this energy with them if they “have it all”?

I mused on this topic post-fuck with the French Banker as she gave me all the clues about what she really longed for in life.

And strangely, this Lay brought back a haunting memory of the deep longing for happiness that Miss Bumblebee has been pursuing all her life, without mentors or support from men or women. Her longing still haunts me.

The Set Up

It was Saturday. I had spent lunchtime with an Indonesian girl in Hyde Park drinking coffee and sizing up whether I liked her. I had opened her some weeks back in Darling Harbour, a very hot set that was very dominant towards the end as our faces stood inches from each other.

Fresh from this date, I made my way to Circular Quay to take some photos a la Goldmund’s Camera Game ( I started out learning photography as a snake seduction effort to meet women – yet it turned into a passion of mine and I started enjoying it for the photography itself.

The camera became my prop for Daygame. When I approached a girl I could either go direct with a compliment or indicate I was after a portrait. It allowed me to roam the streets with a plausible backstory as to what I was doing.

I met two lovely British Indian girls, one of whom had checked me out at the lights. I took a photo of them both and wished them well.

Another, an Argentinian girl in white pants, was wandering aimlessly around the Opera House and so I opened her direct. She had a boyfriend, was not interested in going for a coffee, and THEN she hooked. I came in for another landing due to the missed approach however she was not interested in giving out her number.

The day had been satisfying and I made my way to the bus stop when my attention was arrested by a black girl applying make up on the street.

The French Banker

She was wearing an elegant body suit, straight black hair, and red lipstick. I opened her by asking for a portrait as she looked impeccable (using a Latin root word instead of a Saxon word so that she would understand) and threw out the assumption that she must have been French.

She was – a French girl from Paris and leaving on Friday. I asked her out for a drink that night (credit to Good Looking Loser) however she said she was meeting her brother who lived in Australia and was then travelling to New Zealand.

She asked for a photo. We hailed a person nearby and he fumbled through the DSLR process. As she stood next to me, I felt her breast push into my chest. Subconsciously, it was clear to me that I would eventually fuck this girl.

We exchanged numbers, parted and I later sent her the photos. A date was scheduled for Thursday at 6pm.

The Date

Texting was brief. Mostly logistics and complimenting her on her photo.

We met at the Potts Point Hotel at 6pm and she had gone to the rooftop bar to order a Chardonnay as I was running a few minutes late.

I had left the house tired and low sex energy, Tweeting that I would honour the reach out a la Nash’s post. Thrashing in my mind was whether I would be hard enough to fuck her.

I sent a post to the Daygame group I am part of with the challenge that would have one drink with her and then bring her back to mine.

Arriving at the bar, she was there at the table with glass of wine in hand. She looked wonderful. We sat opposite each other under candlelight and I ordered gin on the rocks.

Within about thirty seconds I started touching her hand and the caressing between us escalated quickly. The conversation was simply flirty small talk – she thought I was a spy, I was different, she was a banker for BNP Paribas so I teased her about that.

About Men and Emotions

We talked about men – she liked men who emoted freely and were not the strong, silent type. This resonated with me as I was tired of the cliched cardboard cutout Red Pill guys who were scared of expressing emotions freely.

To me, a full expression of emotion is the final challenge for a man. Not only can he be a warrior, but he can also be an artist and not fear free emotional expression because some Twitter warrior wants to shame him and call him a “cuck”. I had tolerated abuse on Twitter before – one guy even had the temerity to tell me to throw my son off a cliff because I let him cry. Real fuckwits encapsulated in 120 characters.

Men shame men – but the strong man stands before his peers presenting his chest fearlessly to them and telling them he is what he is – himself.

The Grab

Soon our drinks were close to completion and she took my hand and put it behind her neck. It was a sweet gesture and I called it light energy. What is dark? she asked. I turned my hand and put it around her neck in a mock choking hold. She looked at me and smiled: “That is also light”.

I kissed her on the neck and we soon left the bar. Arm in arm, we walked up to the El Alamein fountain and asked a person passing by to take a photo of us. It was a sweet pose – she sat on my lap and we held each other like lovers.

We made our way down to Elizabeth Bay House where there was a lovely park overlooking the harbour. I had rolled out a blanket there years ago and played with my son as he formed himself in a parachute position and smiling at me at eight months. God I miss him.

My favourite park and a place of longing for my son

At the park we made out and I pulled her top down to suck on her breasts. One of the most exciting moments for me sexually is when a woman slides her hand down my pants for the first time. We reciprocated and I started playing with her clitoris. She was a trembler.

I put out my hand: “I am going to do whatever I want from now on and if you don’t like it, slap my hand”.

We left and made out again on a little bridge overlooking the pond. As we walked up the hill back to the main road, I threw her against a wall and started making out again.

This time, more aggressively, I licked my hand in front of her and put it down her jeans and started to finger her. We were stuck under a bright light in front of a building. She moaned and was very wet and juicy. Soon a gay couple were walking past so I pulled out my hand and sucked on my fingers for her to see.

The Bounce

We jumped in a taxi and went back to mine. Crossing the six lanes, I grabbed her had and ran her across in between traffic. We stood at the door and I invited her in.

She took off her shoes and sat quietly on the lounge as I pottered around, put away Krauser’s Daygame Infinite that was lying on the bed, and poured two glasses of white wine.

I had promised to sing her a song on the piano – Chet Baker’s Time After Time – yet as we sat on the lounge, she was motionless. I felt a signal – she was ready. I took the glass from her, stood her up and started to undress her. (Roy Walker’s recent lay report talks about this – the moment where she signals “can you just get on with it and fuck me?!)

DTF – Downtown Frenchie

We undressed each other and her breasts popped out, plump and ripe. Her body was fantastic – curvy, narrow waist, and with a delicate belly button piercing. She took my jeans off and knelt down and starting giving me a blow job – one of those wonderful moments when a girl knows how to suck your cock from tip to root … and then glances up at you with lusty eyes.

I was never a BJ man and got her on her feet, turning her around and starting to take off her jeans. I pushed her on the lounge and pulled at them. I got her up again and started fingering her while my dick was teasing her from behind. She mentioned a condom – she came prepared – and I took her to the bedroom.

I picked her up and threw her on the bed, opening her legs and giving her head. She was sweaty and a tad smelly – but what did I care when this hot, fantastic black girl was on my bed? She was a trembler and kept shaking as I chomped on her and eventually made her cum – deep trembling followed by a crash and then comfort pose.

I was soft. As I kneeled in front of her, ready to penetrate, I reached for a Sagami and then before I was ready … she just lustily pulled me in. My dick, after 38 years, was inside a black girl. I remember years ago fantasising about this while looking at JPEG porn on the internet in old dial-up days.

We fucked and we fucked and we fucked. I took her from behind standing while she rested her body on the bed. She continued to tremble and she orgasmed as I pounded her and played with her clit, often pulling her hair and shoving her head into the pillow. I leant forward and whispered in her ear dirty things. She muttered many times “J’e taime” and spoke French softly.

We rested for a bit as she was cold. I snuggled with her and held her in a strong bear hug pose to give her comfort. The blanket and nakedness had started for me that old teenage feeling of horniness and I put her on her side, scissors style, and started fucking her heavily. It was deep penetration and ball rubbing.

I pulled out, pushed her back down, and blew all over her, a reckless mess of créam semen over a black backdrop.

She lay there peacefully as she had also cum again. As I looked down at her, she reached around and took some semen in her hand and then licked it. I asked if she wanted a towel and a shower. She declined: “No – I want to keep this as a souvenir”.

Time After Time

From meet to fuck only two hours had transpired. It was 9pm. I had promised her a song so we made our way to a music jazz jam I liked to frequent on a Thursday night. There we ordered drinks and a mixed plate and made out like lovers on a cheap lounge. The host asked me to get up and sing – I chose Time After Time.

Chet Baker’s Time After Time

I am a romantic and I see no fear in creating a romantic bubble for a woman. After the semen swipe, I realised the full range of human expression – from dark and dirty, to sweet and saccharine.

The Truth

As I dropped her home, she shared with me some truth – a few funny and sexy, and others which haunt me about women:

1. She told me that her breast push when we met was deliberate. I laughed and told her I knew. She was surprised.

2. She wanted a photo of me, hence the reason why she asked someone to take a photo the day we met.

3. She knew we would have sex from the moment I touched her hand early in the date.

But the haunting thing came after as we talked deep rapport about our lives and hopes. Bumblebee came to mind.

The Haunting

She told me that she planned to work for another five years so that she could purchase a house without debt, have children and be a hard working and dutiful wife to her husband, pottering around the garden and taking care of the family.

I had heard this before – from Bumblebee. Future plans of loyalty and relationship success – yet what saddened me was that these dreams are rarely realised – it just “never happened”.

Both the Banker and Bumblebee were high value women – well-formed, educated, successful, and attractive. Yet the narrative they have been given is often in contrast to what women truly want of their lives – masculine direction, drive and purpose.

When I used to talk to Bumblebee about her life, I sensed that she really wanted a mentor to help and guide her along the path of being a woman. Now, at 43, she has a huge amount of regret for not being with her family, and talks about the curse of none of her brothers or her having children.

I once offered to have a child with her but not in the usual Disney romantic manner. She rejected the idea. I realised then why we have White Knights – men sometimes really do want to rescue women from their directionlessness. It’s a form of empathy.

My deep sadness is that the Red Pill teaches us how women lose their Sexual Market Value in their late twenties and thirties. Their fertility window declines and they increasingly struggle to find men to meet their biological needs.

Both the Banker and Bumblebee face the prospect of never meeting their needs for family, simply because society has co-opted them into a corporate market structure that delay its until they are too late. Coupled with female indecision, it makes for a haunting, sad mix.

The Red Pill is obsessed with power over women, fears of hypergamy, and in my experience lacks real empathy for women. I might be labelled Purple Pill – it slides off. But how did we get to this point where we learn to seduce women yet we cannot show any emotion or sympathy for their lives. We all need hand holding, to quote Ron Paul.

Who are we as seducers? And what do we really want to feel with women?

The Farewell

She was giddy and excited at the thought that we could perhaps meet in Paris during my trip to Europe. I hesitated and then told her – yes, I would see her. I liked her and wanted a mini-romance.

We said goodbye and then she was gone.