I think back to how in the past I’d let my pride get the best of me when it came to these girls. Where I felt slighted or played and I nexted them and moved on to the next one before geting the notch. Recently though with age and having more women in my stable than I know what to do with I realize that pride can actually cost you a notch within reach.

A few weekends ago I had this date with a Russian girl from Latvia set up for a Saturday night. That Friday we g chat for a few and she gives me her address and wants to know what time to get ready. The whole week leading up it was nothing but sexual built up flirting going back and forth. That Saturday an hour before our date she cancels with a weak excuse about an emergency that came up and asked for a rain check. I was pissed to say the least and felt very slighted cause I knew it was going to be on like Donkey Kong. I simply texted back “OK” and left it at that. The following Wednesday I hit her up with a fake, hope everything went ok with your emergency text. She apologized and we set up a date for Friday night. She showed up in a pink tight dress, I gave her sushi and some dick no problem.

The Thursday night before my date with the Latvian chick I’m at Spider Kelly’s in Arlington chilling when I spot a girl with two friends. I walk up to the table and say hi, ask about her tattoo and then her girl who looks like Velma from Scooby- Doo starts giving me shit and trying to cock block, jinkes! But instead of letting my pride get in the way I let her finish her little lines, then turn around and continue spitting to her friend. I number closed before her boyfriend showed up and set up a lunch date since she works right around the corner from me.

The point is don’t let emotions or stupid pride stop you from getting that notch. If you pimping at the highest level, let her play games because your time isn’t really fully invested in her. Do a pulse check a week or two later and see if the vibe is right. If you don’t act slighted it throws some confussion into her scheme and you can continue past her shit test.

But the drain of the life has been getting to me as of late. Saturday I’m eating ice cream with the 20 year old lifeguard from Slovakia, but I’m not really there. And even though I have this baby faced doll in front of me who’ll be making out with me later, I’m thinking about the Latvian girl from the night before who banged my brains out till six in the morning. I’m scheduling how I’m going to hangout with the H.O.W during the day Sunday and then go over to my ex Brazilian legs Sunday night for some Cheesecake and booty. I’m scheming on the 21 year old Bosnian girl from the botched threesome who’s coming from out of town this Wednesday and how I’m taking off work to show her DC then end the day back at my place for Pizza and some vodka. I have a shorty flying in from Chicago the second weekend in September for four days and that I met on the Streets of Adams Morgan two years ago, I kissed her outside of Brass Monkey’s and I’ll be finishing the job. Python game.

All of this and I’m so fucking bored. It’s like I’ve had the same conversation over and over again with most of these girls. I’m an actor driven to depression from playing the same part night in and night out for years. Brando, Street Car Named Desire shit. It’s like you could take any of these girls and interchange them for one another and I wouldn’t skip a beat. There’s no real connection here, just one vagina bleeding into the next.

And this 20 year old is talking about how most people in her homeland don’t get married in churches because then they can’t get a divorce or something like that. I keep thinking about the fact that there is one out of all these girls that makes me happy, one I’d rather be with at this moment. If only God would give a sign that I’m not going crazy and my life is kind of a repetition of meaningless fucking. Then Slovakia interrupts me with a question,

Slovakia: What did you study in University?
VK: Accounting. Your studying to be an orthodontist right?
Slovakia: No, global finance.
VK: Really? I could have sworn you said orthodontist….
Slovakia: (with some content) UM NO! Wrong Russian girl
VK: Hmmm well in any case you look very pretty.

Every now and then I meet a fan or more commonly I get an e mail from a fan and it’s, “Dude, I love your blog, I’m a great looking dude, I have SOOO much game myself. I’d love to get on your team with you guys and go out and get girls. I get more ass than I can handle, I’m the coolest dude in the bar, If I got on the team it would be so on”.

Now I’ve never met these dudes before and they might actually fuck all kinds of hot chicks till they pull their lower abdominal muscles and their dicks are chafe from so much smashing. But I’ve been in the game long enough to realistically know what’s going to happen. This dude is going to come into the game and Willie Beamen. This type of guy is going to come in, call his own plays, scramble all over the field, trying to make an ESPN highlight countdown and not do what’s best for the team, . And the last part is the most important part when it comes to this Wingman game. It’s about the team.

Sure you can go out and get yourself laid whenever you want, all the time 24/7 but can you help The Rookie step his game up in the clutch? Do you know how to fall back and hand it off to Roosh to let him tell a South American story when the time is right? Can you stand not being the center of attention as I slay them with a joke or two? Can you look at a group and tell which one is any of our types? Can you step it up when someone isn’t in a good mood or has had a bad week?

It is a common misunderstanding that because a guy is good at gaming girls that he’ll make an excellent wingman. Being a wingman is really about sacrificing your pride and ego for the greater good. Most guys are too competitive to be good wingmen and if you add to that they’re rolling with a guy who’s wrote a book about picking up girls then for some reason the night turns into proving you can out game one of us. Are you the type that always has to talk or go after the hottest girl in the group? Are you willing to fall on your sword and talk with the fat friend if one of us is talking to her hot skinny friend in heals? If the girl you’re talking to isn’t feeling you can you hang in there and keep it going till the other guy number closes? Sure you have an excellent panty dropper story about saving baby orphans with cleft palate from a burning building, but if you pull that shit in the middle of my routine I will punch you in the face.

Another reason why our team works is because there’s a level of investment in the success of the team. Roosh and I have been Batman and Robining this shit for close to five years now. You guys don’t really see the work behind the scenes. At best you read about the success stories on our blog. But there’s hours and days of work and game theory that goes on on the back end. Becuase of this now there’s the genuine excitement when your boy scores a goal, the shared agony when one of us blows it or a girl who showed so much promise flakes. After two years of mentoring, The Rookie’s successes become mine his failure becomes mine. The group as a whole has put in the man hours it takes to learn the subtle intricacies of being good wingmen. Honestly let’s face it, I have enough shit and cockblocking in this city to worry about, it feels good to go out with a group of guys and know I’m not going to have to compete with them for the same girl too.

To go from amateur to natural like anything takes TIME and PRACTICE. Learn the basics and the reason behind the theories, After three or four years of practicing these basics and understanding them inside and out then start exploring your own path and what works best for you. A sponge is able to absorb tons of water but it’s also able to wring out just as much water. So as you get better with game start stripping away those parts you don’t need along with useless information. If not game becomes more like a chore and aren’t we all doing this to have fun?

When the game starts getting boring and picking/ going out on dates seems more like a chore than an exciting chance to hook up with someone new. Try breaking some well known game rules.

When to call, should you text first

The game rule is to wait two to three days before initiating contact. But if the vibe is strong and you brought things up during the conversation, then fuck it call or text the next day to make an impromptu date for that day. Usually a Sunday works best. Now if you should text or call first doesn’t really matter, do whatever you want and don’t lose sleep over it.

Drinks or Dinner on the first date

It’s common game rule to always invite a girl out for quick drinks first, something about not showing her too much value early by feeding her. This is a rule I break often because by the time I’m done with the gym I’m fucking starving. If you’re actually hungry and the girl is attractive enough and if you have money, take her out for dinner. Dinner game is completely different from drinks game so get good at both.

To Kiss or not to Kiss

The game rule is to usually wait to the end of the first date or second. But sometimes break this rule especially on in between a venue change or if you’re on the dance floor. Be daring and steal a kiss at an unexpected moment.

Dating on the weekends

The game rule is that you go out on dates during the week and use the weekends to get more numbers. The clear advantage of breaking this rule is that you don’t usually have to worry about her calling it an early night, easier chance for multiple venue changes, and actual higher chance of hooking up.

Giving compliments

Game rule, attractive girls have a huge ego (especially in DC), neg her to knock her value down. You’ll be surprised how many of these girls are incredibly insecure underneath it all. A simple compliment wont hurt your game but the key is to make it something unique, something she hasn’t heard a million times already that night.

Lowering your value

Game rule is to always show higher value at all times. Sometimes acting humble or even slightly embarrassed will work just as well as bragging or showing off. I do this often with my job. I describe what I do first as being a professional nerd/ numbers geek and playing with spreadsheets all day. The girls that are really feeling me will say something along the lines of, “oh that’s not nerdy at all, it’s actually really cool”. Extra points when she’s in the same field.

Usually, or better yet when I was younger, nothing would bring me greater joy than running into an ex fling during a night and seeing that after me she’s gone straight down hill. She’s gained a good fifteen to thirty pounds and her life looks something like a train wreck. Extra points if I had something nice on my arm when it happened.

As I get older and especially lately, you get to know some of these girls. You learn that sometimes beneath the cold hard bitchy exterior there is a battle going on over weight, over food consumption. You learn that when life is going good for them, they’re happy, they work out more, stick to their diets better and win this battle. When it’s not so good, the cope with it by eating something greasy, late night or going on a carb binge eating. So when you hear that the person has given in and gone to the fat side, you know everything is not alright.

When this happens I feel guilty for some reason. Like if things had worked out, if we were together, I could encourage them, give workout tips or at least hit the gym with them. I could somehow talk them into going out for less meals and less bottles of wine intake. I mean don’t get me wrong I like a little thickness from time to time but my god there is a limit. But if someone cares more about food than themselves and looking good, if they surround themselves with enablers that like them on the fat end of the spectrum so they themselves can feel good, there’s nothing you can really do about it.

Once you become good at game it’s important to develop what I like to call the art of the long con or simply Python Game. You basically game over an extended period of time say three to six months even up to a year. It’s keeping a target on the slow low burner instead of the full court press for action. Besides kind of accidentally banging her friend there might be many reasons why I guy needs to use python game. Long distance, one or both of you are in a serious committed relationship at the time, she might know about your past and might not be ready to let you in at the time. Whatever the reason it’s good to have a long con going on the back end while you’re juggling the regulars.

I met D one Saturday morning in the gym close to a year ago. Her gym time was very sporadic and I’d only seen her twice before and the other two times she was working out with her BF at the time. That Saturday I used game and we casually talked in between sets. I found out among other thing that D was a writer and I told a white lie that I was working on a project to acquire her number.

D is what I like to call a H.O.W (Hot Older Woman). Way different than a “cougar”. Cougars are old washed up desperate women who’s dating market value has plummeted so low that there only hope is to find young horny 20 something to pump and dump them for a night because no way in hell men their age or older would even glance at them anymore. D on the other hand was one of those rare intimidating beauties. She was 38 but stood at 5’11 and was in such great shape if she didn’t tell you, you would never guess that she had two kids. She worked out regularly, very rarely drank if at all, and knew all the tricks to age with pure elegance and grace.

You would never catch her out late night drinking and partying with friends. She was too busy running her own real estate company and managing half a dozen investment property that she spent time investing in. She does part time modeling and acting on the side and often travels to NY for Auditions and casting calls. Her latest project has been writing one of those self help books like Eat, Pray, bang or whatever and she plans on going on the speaking circuit after it’s published.

All this plus a serious boyfriend and joint custody of the kids meant that gaming or even spending time with D was impossible. I’d send a text or two every now and then. We squeezed in a lunch once and Saturday workout before that. I was able to talk to her a handful of times on the phone. Finally a few Sunday’s ago when none of my regulars could come to the pool for one reason or another I gave her a call. She agreed to join me at my pool to catch up and enjoy the sun.

Dressed in a tiny vintage black bikini with gold hoops on the side, wearing expensive looking Chanel sunglasses, her hair light brown kissed by the sun. She looked like a sexy piece of southern California. I was glad that I wore my mirror tint aviator glasses that let me leer at her body without getting caught. She was in better shape than most of the 20 something at my complex.

Our conversation was energetic like two people stumbling for a connection. We turned to dating and talk of relationships. This is where I found out that her and her BF just broke up about three weeks prior, what a shame. This lead to talk of what went wrong and how relationships fall apart between two people. Talk about honesty and trust. How a woman who spends that much time focusing and keeping herself well kept together for the man she loves needs to feel appreciated once in a while. There was more said but I was giving her boobs the care bare stare.

We waded into the pool and the sun glistens off the gold and water beads on her body. She transformed and looked something like a siren . She tells me how at the end of the relationship it all crumbled. He stopped taking her out, not even once a month, no dinners no dancing. He stopped working out and mounting biking with her. Along with other activities they shared together. He just let himself go and faded….

VK: Really?
D: Oh my God VK you have no idea! In fact I have this little cute dress that I bought in Vegas that I’ve been dying to wear out but I don’t have a place or a reason to wear it. Actually we should go out on the town one night, I bet you’d know where to take me in this dress….
VK: Sure that shouldn’t be a problem, have you ever been to The W Hotel in DC?
D: No
VK: Are you free next Friday?
D: Yes

By the time we finished our appetizers, a full order of the Clams Casino, Bitchy Bosnian was gazing at me with this dreamy look. With some old school Italian crooner singing about love and murder suicide in the background, the Bosnian truly appreciated her surroundings. Her cold exterior melted, and with each bite of our meals and sip of wine we stumbled into our connection. She said she doesn’t remember laughing as hard with any other guy since she’s been here in America. By the end of the night we were making out in my car like star crossed teenage lovers. Now that she’s on the roster things are about to get interesting when her friend that I slightly hooked up with and speak on the phone with once a week (slut pants) moves to DC in the middle of July.

On the first date she tells you she doesn’t like sushi, by the end she tries the first piece of her life to impress you. After there’s salsa dancing at Cafe Citron. After that we’re back at her condo in Columbia Heights. She’s on her period so she puts you in her mouth. On the second date at La Tasca she points out her left hand is partially crippled, three of the four fingers are unable to bend straight. She’s damaged and because of it that much more attractive to you.

You, you’re coming out of a dark place. The last two months have been the worse of your life but with the help of your friends and family you survived. And the last girl you liked turned out to be unable to tell the truth when it counted but that to you survived. Now you’re here, with a girl who has beautiful breasts and a partial left hand and both of yours work so you’ll grab on to anything especially anyone willing to hold on to you. So you’ll fuck this girl and her crippled hand to get over the hard times, last girl and move forward or that’s the lie you tell yourself.

A month later things have moved faster than expected out of your control as if you had any. You keep time in blood so when she fucks you during her period it’s an anniversary. Now every weekend you’re staying the night at her house. You two are meeting each others friends. When a girl is interested she pays for half. But lately she pays for everything, movies, dinners she gives more of herself than you’re ready for. Now you know it’s serious. She gazes at you when you two are out in public, the look when a girl is satisfied and thinks she’s finally found a nice guy. And now she giving you that look with her blood on you, you kiss her, she tells you to cum and this is the deepness you dream of but haven’t been to.

When you first get into game you convince yourself that all girls are players, we’re all playing the same game, you’ll only hurt the ones that deserve it. You tell yourself if you find a girl like her (again) you’ll change, be different, come out of the cold. A girl who’s good, who picked up the phone every time you call, has never flaked and waits for you on her doorstep after the bars close. This girl is here willing to love you and because of that you don’t want her. Belonging to club that would have you as member. History repeats, another Emily, but there’s no abortion to blame here. A piece of you died on a Saturday and you had no choice about the funeral. You’re not as innocent as you were at 22 but that another story let’s call it the prequel.

Did you lead her on? Yes you did. You told her she was beautiful but honestly every girl is and needs to hear it. You texted her you were thinking of her and at that time you were. You told her her body was amazing but the female form is. Consider this an admission of guilt, a confession, for her and the others before her. The word’s of Jesse Lacey will forever hunt you,

“I will lie awake, lie for fun and fake the way I hold you let you fall for every empty word I say”

So you do that thing people do when they want out. You start a fight over something trivial, she’s upset and doesn’t understand why. There’s make up sex and during you start thinking about the next girl. A red haired 24 year old you met the Saturday morning before. You’re thinking about the shape of her ass, the way she smiled, the tightness of her triceps. You’re barely outside of this girl and you’ve already moved on. Transition.

Putting on your pants you tell her maybe you two moved too fast in all of this. Maybe there should be sometime apart to think. She’s confused, not sure what’s going on barely whispers ok. You’re two feet outside of her door and you already miss her, keep going. Go home, wash her off you, forget the scent of her hair, block out your favorite memory of trying bloody Marys at The Heights. The lie is that there will always be something missing in every girl you’re with, the truth is that there will always be something missing inside of you. Your appetite for lust is endless and you’ll always hunger for more. Now lie one more time and tell yourself you’ll grow out of it that it’ll be different when you’re older. Now lie yourself asleep.

So I suited up. Grey with an extra “krispy” white shirt 3 buttons undone looking like a black Jason Statham. I slid into my black Stacey Adams, tucked in my black silk pocket square with an artful indifference, sprayed on my summer time “light” scent Burberry Sport, walked past the mirror and felt an ice cold chill run down my spine. If looks could kill then the Actress was a dead woman walking.

But years later I’m 29 and I know his connects, his promoters, I’ve dabbled with bouncing/clubing in the club scene I know a dj or two. Promoters blow up my phone to come through on the reg, DC is a small world.Then again I’m all over DC, I’m not regulated to any one set. The point is the real reason why we do this is for more choice and leverage with girls, “Owners Son Game”. It’s a symbiont relationship based on everyone using one another. The chick your with wants to go to get dressed up and go to the hottest night club and the line is around the corner but there’s two people inside sipping on $16 drinks, fuck that noise you know the bouncer, give him the fist pound. It takes forever to get a drink from the coked up bartender with the too big striation marks breast implants, sheiiiiiiit, you or one of your boys banged her back when she was an A cup with a phat ass, give her the head nod she knows what’s up, drinks served. Your girl needs some help making table reservations at wherever for her birthday, you know the promoter and helped him out putting bodies at that lame club opening in SE where the police don’t even bother patrolling, send him a text, your taken care of.

You use that world to your player advantage but you fully understand that you are never really part of that world, not past that night. The only reason your there, the only reason you’re allowed to be included is that the establishment needs your money but doesn’t love you. Like a “horny” stripper on the first and fifteenth. It’s easy to forget this fact and be seduced by the life.

“Yeah girl take that take that”

Now this dude I don’t like that much is damn near close to 34 and he’s still bragging about doing the same shit he’s been doing since I got out of college. It would be like me bragging about the turtle I smashed at the Thursday night late night party at the Sig Ep house at 30. Because of his “extracurricular” activities he’s had some health issues needing corrective surgery. On his Facebook page there’s pictures of him wearing the same clothes from stores I’ve decided to ban from my wardrobe because I’m almost 30 and feel a little too grown, on the scene of EVERY club scene, Monday through Sunday.

But here’s the ultimate that gets me, these dudes think they’re rock stars because they were in the same building as a rock star or celebrity. Essentially turning into certified dick riders. I had to listen to this guy today talk about how awesome it was to party with David Guetta on Tuesday night at Fur. Now did he speak with, drink with double team with David Guetta? Um Nope! He bought a table that was in the same “VIP section” as David Guetta, and by the way David Guetta blows. Same dude loves to talk about chilling with Tiesto, bitch please! If you don’t have said celebrities phone number on speed dial you guys aren’t chill, and having the same coke supplier on speed dial doesn’t count! The only reason you’re there is because they have groupies but those groupies are their to fuck said rock star/ world famous DJ. You’re just hoping they’re too drunk and have dropped enough X pills not to notice you’re not said celebrity. But some how these guys actually think that the girls at their table are really there to hangout with them.

I could go on ragging on this guy but honestly I feel bad for him and use him as a reminder of what can happen when you get sucked into a comfort zone. This town more than other is built on connections, net working, and social climbing. Nothing wrong with that. But never forget that those connects should be beneficial both ways. If you have to buy a table every time you go to the club, if you have to roll up to a club on a Tuesday to be scene with some B list DJ, if all your pictures on Facebook have some promotion companies water mark on the bottom of the pic AND YOUR OVER 30…. you just might be a scenester.

Like a wise man once said

For some reason because of location, number of years, relationship and life status one can almost be ok with the high school chick from the small town who got married young and popped out kids. But what about that single girl you used to know (27-30) that started dating that one guy right after you and now her pictures from some party comes up on your feed. The first thing you’ll notice is the face, the water retention and the fullness. Kind of looks like Mayweather hit her with a two piece. The next place you’ll see it is probably the arms, flabby triceps aka the pork chops. This is probably the kiss of death. This happens in less than a year.

Again though you can almost accept this outcome. She dating some beta nerd who’s probably more into his career than physical activities. Knowing she’s the best he can get she doesn’t feel the need to stay in shape like before because she knows he’s not going anywhere and the man she has will love her no matter what she looks like. IF they’ve moved in together then it’s over for sure in the upkeep department. For some reason though this is natural.

What really gets me is the “Fuck it, I give up” girls. The girls that are single but still let themselves slide. This is absolutely mind boggling to me. I’m sure these girls just don’t wake up and say, “hey I’d love to put on an extra fiddy pounds and try to reach my goal of getting up to a deuce maybe a deuce and half”. But it’s almost like a silent killer. She gains five pounds which is no big deal easily period weight. But then a week later the five has gone to ten pounds. She ignores this, pushes it to the back of her mind. The reasonable thing to do would hit the gym twice a day cut back on the alcohol and get her body back to fighting weight. But fuck that noise she has to meet with her girls for happy hour food and drinks so they can bash men. Did we mention she has so many different groups of friends, HH is five times a week?

These girls that have given up though will never blame remaining single on their increase weight. Instead they’ll simply brag about all other life accomplishments to overcompensate. This is the last silent cry for help and attention, like that drunk chick in the club who screams out, “I LURVVVVVV MY GIRLS ,THEIR THE BESTS” A couple of days later they OD on sleeping pills, cough syrup and Haagen dazs. Of course we all know the funny thing is these girls think they should be dating/ pulling the same types of guys at 30 lbs overweight that they were pulling at their peak condition. Let’s just keep it real mah, if you thought you should be pulling a George Clooney at 5′4 115/120 (period weight) then at 130/135 you should probably slide down to a George Lopez. At 145/150 slide even lower to a George Costanza. Anything over that go ahead hit up Curious George.

The old me used to find some kind of sick joy a sweet revenge in running into a girl I used to hit and she’s packed on more than a few. But ever since my better “VK in 2010 project” part of me feels bad. I still wonder though at what point do former hot girls decide, “Fuck it I give up”. I mean if you’re single is there a reasonable excuse?
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