I win. I'm more fun than your ex. I'm old enough to know better, and too young to go home early. I work hard, play hard, and party hard, and shake my head at people who aren't willing to just LIVE THEIR LIFE (aaaaaayaaaaaaayaaaayaaaaaayayay). I'm addicted to positive energy and will snuggle the hell out of you if you don't watch yourself. Don't think you're safe just because you're a guy.
So I issued a new challenge to the guys in my circle (the single ones, anyway). It started 2 days ago, and the competition is unnerving. I love competition as a behavior momentum enhancer. I hate competition because now everything I do is scrutinized, and I’m constantly comparing myself to my peer group. I was thinking that I was just kinda lone-wolfing it for awhile, while ignoring them and their influence, but now I see that it’s just another bullshit ego-protection thing that I’ve been hiding behind.
Competing with my crew takes away the curtain. Most guys who are close to me are telling me over and over how awesome I am... blah blah blah. In all my efforts to remain present, to kill my own ego, I have slipped back into that “big pimp” frame that feels so comfortable. That would be all well and good, but that frame is utterly useless.
If the “big pimp” frame was useful, being congruent would force me to approach instead of standing around with a bunch of jocks talking about my glory days in jiujitsu. It would make me blow out 4’s and approach the turbo-hotties. But no, that’s not what’s happening. At the end of the night, I’m sitting at Denny’s with a bunch of chodes and LSE girls only to go home and blog if my primary snuggle partner doesn’t answer her phone. Some pimp I am.
I can DO amazing things when I state-click. I jump up in the air and scream like I’m storming the Alamo, make giant hippo noises and sing the latest Katy Perry track at the top of my lungs in the middle of the club and boom, my energy is high, my indifference is high, and I go crazy. I blow out sets by over energizing them, I kiss random girls and never see them again, and stop giving a shit, and all the sudden, bam makeout, bam, pull, bam, close.
But it’s all an act, an act I don’t want to repeat over and over again. I understand the snapback for sure... Can’t I just be myself? AND grow and change and be awesome at the same time? I ACTUALLY want to be a heartless player with massive abundance, but the problem is I don’t actually like sex all that much. The only reason I try at sex is because they expect it when I drag them back to my house, and I don’t want to let them down. Seriously. I think years of religion fucked all that up for me... I just don’t get horny like my peers.
There’s a million reasons why dudes want chicks. For me, it boils down to making me feel wanted. That’s it. I want her to chase me, snuggle me, buy me shit, all on her own volition, just because I’m that awesome. When she doesn’t ADORE my ass, then I feel like I’m not worth adoring. Most of you pickup kids are gonna rant some stuff about entitlement and gaining my own self-worth, I get it. I’m just being real here.
But that want is fundamentally broken. If I’m supposed to lead, to lead her on my adventure, to let her watch my movie... I can’t be sitting back and wait for her to do virtually anything.
So, it’s back to fundamentals. 20 minute script from open to makeout with a high percentage yeild. My own material, so that even though it’s the same shit I say all the time, at least it’s genuine. Opening tough sets, ignoring <7s, being DTF. I feel like I’m starting over.
I spent the last two days getting blown out by 4’s and 6’s all night. Got two boyfriends super pissed and downright rude, but still haven’t got hit in the face yet. I’m sure itt’l happen this summer.
So I haven’t pulled out my Day 2 game for awhile. Going to clubs every night is a convenient way to meet up with people, haven’t been on a date in God knows when, so texted that chick from Christmas (HBLiteraryManHater).
Me: ZOMG Let’s hang out tonight.
Me: I vote 9pm. Coffee, Peet’s. Then dance our asses off at Terrace.
Her: Sounds good
Her (1 hr later): We have bottle service at sunset on friday (NYE) lmk if ur down I’ll save u a seat
Seems good, right? She’s all excited to see me... so much so that she asynchronously responded an hour later to invite me to VIP with her ass on New Year’s Eve. Of course, as a PUA, I’ve got an issue with being tied down to one spot in the club, so I responded.
Me: Thanks babe! I’ll be bouncing around the club all night because I’m bringing the whole crew. It’s gonna be EPIC... too bad nobody’s gonna remember ;)
No response. I guess I’m not as funny as I thought. Whatever. I’m excited for my Day2 because she’s hot and snarky. I wanted to Day2 her because she’s always bringing along her security blanket, BYourDancingMakesMeBlush and it all turns into haze when they act like a team. It’s like they wanted to do something amazing... but then they got high. I took a shower and got all ready and smelling awesome (I even changed my sheets). I did the old community text to anti-flake her....
Me: Hey babe, I’m hopping in the shower rt now, I’ll be about 9 and a half mins late.
Her: Ha I’m apartment hunting :( I dunno if I’ll make it out.
Fuck man. Flaketastic. And she knew it. You know how I know she knows? The Frowny Face in the middle. There was no misunderstanding. She got scared by my awesomeness and wasn’t ready for a one-on-one encounter, so she flaked. Not enough comfort on Christmas. Too much attraction, not enough vibe. Lame. I was all excited for this one (and I smelled all clean and shit) so I was super pissed. I didn’t respond, so I didn’t validate her bullshit... but in order to save face when I see her again, I had to find something to do.
Tim’s “The fury” took over. Literary, of course, has moved from the Traditional column to the TakeMe column. Aside.... I have two columns I put chicks in... The ones I respect, and the ones I don’t really give that much of a fuck about. If the Traditional methods work... like being a gentleman, responding with care and concern about things they’re saying, downplaying sexuality in social situations.... They stay in the Traditional column. The ones I feel a social responsibility to call back. When Traditional methods don’t work, I put them in the TakeMe column. After that, it’s all sexual. I say things like “If we’re not going to hook up... why do you wanna come over?” That stuff works, man. Now that I think about it... I don’t even know why I have a Traditional column. Maybe it’s because I’d kinda like to meet a nice girl one of these days. As I type this... I’m deciding to delete the Traditional column. It’s pretty damn useless.
Like Kevin Rudolf says in NYC - “He started dating models, and he figured it out, he used to be a nice guy but then he cut that shit out.”
Whatever... anyway, I decided tonight’s gonna be direct approach night... getting sexual with everyone. I feel sorry for the chicks at the club tonight. Bam. Bam. Bam. 9 approaches, all direct. Kissed 3 of ‘em, grinded mercilessly, bit a few times... Previous hookups causing drama with RawDogg, blurry drunk chicks trying to alpha the whole night... what a mess... but I met a girllllllllllllll :)
I “stepped up like a bomb going off” into this set with 4 dudes (no fucking kidding) and a 5’4” asian chick. CUTE!!!!! Turns out I met these dudes last week. I made all that happen flawlessly and then I started in on the girl (HBPassedDukesTests). Rather than run standard game (the energy was high already, I busted in on the set by licking one of the dudes in the face) I started rapid firing my blueprint qualifiers at her with force.... putting all of the dudes into spectator mode.
“You look like the kind of girl who can’t handle her alcohol”
“Do you like stuffed animals?”
“If you had to choose one... Progress or Comfort?”
“Do you want kids”
“Do you have a passport?”
“Wanna get married?”
Bam. Bam. Bam. Like 8 of ‘em. She kept answering. Hi five... Compliance... Hug... blah blah
I grabbed her hand and took her to dance. COCKBLOCK Central. Now It’s me, HBPassed, 5 dudes, and RawDogg’s 4 ex hookups on the dance floor. Guys were cockblocking like crazy, I grabbed her out and kept dancing... she kept getting pulled out, so instead of fighting I found this model chick that’s my neighbor on the side and pulled her into it. HBPassed left the floor with that “Oh, you’re busy” look. Haha.
I circled around later and pulled her out of the now 6 guy group to the outside. Shared a cigarette and she started qualifying about how she never cheats... One of the guys comes back and reports that this chode inside is super-pissed. Apparently, HBPassed went on a date with this guy, he took her to dinner, bought her drinks all night, and gave her a gift. Now’s he’s fuming pissed that she’s spent all her time with me. Haha x 2.
I #closed, kissed her head, and set up a day 2 for Thursday. I WIN. If she doesn’t flake :)
So there I was... spending the last few weeks in complacent doldrums, and Christmas hit like a baseball bat. Some of the summer girls came back into town, the other girls were back from school, some of the old hookups came out of the woodwork, and after finals, everybody came out to party. The clubs were packed.
In my quest to “not giving a fuck” I’ve become quite the dancer, in the same vein as karaoke. Karaoke was one of the most nerve-wracking things to try (a year ago). I made a commitment to sing at least one song I’ve never sung per week. That sucks. 52 weeks later, I’ve sung holy shit... like 90 different songs? Guess who got over their fear of looking stupid in front of people? This fuckin’ guy. My favorites (the most embarrassing ones) were “I hope you dance” by Leean Womack, “Everytime” by Britney Spears, and “Don’t wanna miss a thing” by Aerosmith.
1) Pick a song out of your vocal range. Sing that shit in the car and don’t be comfortable.
2) Sing more than one song per night. Just like approaches... failure with one is quickly drowned out by all the other ones.
3) Sing more than one style per night. Switch it around... like Take the first one from the 80’s, One from 90’s rap, One from 90’s pop-punk, One from current top 40. Last week for me was
Billy Idol’s “White wedding”
Dr. Dre’s “F*ck with Dre Day”
Sean Kingston’s “Beautiful Girls”
Josh Groban’s “You raise me up”
4) Fuckin sing DUETs. With Anyone. I sang the love song from Moulin Rouge with a metrosexual opera singer, Seether’s “Broken” with a pinup model, Drake’s “I’m the one” with a sister with pipes, and Pat Benatar’s “Love is a battlefield” with a 46 year old cougar. Travie McCoy’s “Billionaire” is a crowd favorite. Try to look gangster.
5) Practice at home. Youtube has SOOOO many karaoke songs. The practice is not to make you sound good, it’s to make you get over yourself.
Back to Dancing....
Christmas night I went out to the only bar open in town, Padri’s in Agoura. This little snarky hairdresser chick (HBLiteraryManHater) texted me, wondering what I was doing. This chick has been teasing me for three weeks. The first approach was with her and her gay friend, where I was in the fucking zone and knocked the socks off of both of them. The next few encounters were AMOG central, she brought her uncles along and they would mean-mug me and shake my hand like it was a tug-of-war. She’s the kind that doesn’t return texts, then acts all happy to see you in the club. Fine. I told her to roll out and she brought her support group, BYourDancingMakesMeBlush.
I brought my PUA boys, OGRawDogg, Zombie, and Magnum and we were just hoping to not be lonely on a dead club night. Padri’s is usally a cougar bar, so we didn’t know what we were into. OGRawDogg is the strongest player in our group, total scumbag type whose opening lines sound like they came from a porno. 5 shots of Petron in, and he’s useless... sitting there sunk into his chair staring at the wall. Magnum won’t approach. It’s his first month in, so although he’s hung like a horse and makes shitloads of money, he’s hit and miss with the self-confidence. That leaves me and zombie to clean up, and the DJ starts banging the club like his job depended on it. Come to think of it, it probably did. Zombie drops into DEEP comfort with Blush, talking about movies and some esoteric shit, but Literary is obviously the alpha female, so she keeps pulling her out and screwing the whole vibe up. She’s playing way coy with me, so I stopped trying, and started dancing.
I’m the only guy on the floor. The first few minutes were wierd, moving around like an idiot to the trance tracks... but then I started getting wilder and wilder. Guys all over the place were pointing and laughing, clowning and hating. I want to sit down and chill soooo bad... but I remember Erik’s words from so long ago..... “BE THE OBSERVED.” So I keep dancing, being more outrageous and stupid looking. Girls walk by. Girls Stand there talking loud. Girls sit on the couch next to me. Girls keep looking. Proximity proximity. I keep pulling my guys up to dance, and they keep moving for a few moments and sitting back down, uncomfortable, hoping I’ll conform and people will stop looking over here. That reminds me of my first few weeks in pickup. It’s cute. Literary finally gets up and dances, and I push the sexual playfulness. She’s into it, and Zombie wings Blush beautifully. Chicks are still kinda hovering, so I send Magnum in to talk to one of the sets, no success, but They were there for me. heh. I took the boys home and rocked it out.
Lessons learned; Just like Tim says in Transformations; I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT ANYBODY THINKS OF ME. The response is amazing. Tomorrow night is Karaoke, but Thursday night I’m literally gonna dance all night at 3 different clubs, mercilessly approaching everything within 5 feet of my dance floor. That’s right... MY dancefloor.
Well here it is. Day 587 straight of going out like a “rockstar”. I’m getting more and more complacent because I’m not setting goals. Hey look! everybody knows my name. Hey look! everybody expects me to entertain, to validate, to give some sort of approval. I get introduced like “You don’t know who this guy IS?!?!?!?!?!? THIS IS DUKE!”, all incredulously and shit. I’m a completely different guy from when I started.
Going out has a complacent dullness to it. The excitement is there, but I want to leave earlier and earlier, because I’ve settled into a pattern of mediocre intimacy. There’s 3 girls occupying my time; BTargetBehavior, BMetacarpal, and BAnimeEyes. All three of these girls are experiments in “My man’s a player and I’m okay with it” mentality. With brutal transparent honesty I’ve explained to each one of them my intentions to become a PUA Instructor one day, and my distaste for monogamy in this stage of my life. Here’s how I pitch it;
“I’m going to be a dating coach in the not-so-far future. I’m going to teach guys how to find the best parts of themselves and gain the confidence to display them to whatever girls they want. My journey along this path will be a light for them, and I want to experience every little thing I can so that I have reference experiences when I teach them. I’m down for a relationship (and I’m really fuckin’ good at them), but most girls are too traditional to accept that their boyfriends are running around the club making out with other girls on the nightly. Here’s the deal; I’m totally down to kick it, but nobody (no, not even you) will ever get in the way of my mission. I’ll always be honest, but don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, because I’ll for sure tell you. I won’t explicitly tell you about the others for tact’s sake, but don’t go sniffing out answers you don’t really want to know.”
Case Study 1: AnimeEyes
I met her at the pool, introduced by BGhosts, which is a whole new ball of wax I’ll have to write about someday. She thought I was obnoxious. But then, she got drunk and made out with me a bunch on her own volition. I had the conversation. Twice. We hooked up. Twice. Days blurred into weeks, blurred into months as we spent amazing times staring into each others eyes, sharing cigarettes and dramatic conversation building a card-house of intimacy. Our joyous puppy-love slowly deteriorated, like I knew it would, and she couldn’t handle it anymore. She tried to pin me down. I had the conversation. She said; “Why the hell would give up all of this amazing connection for your need to be a Pickup Artist?????” Another one bites the dust. She started to leverage toward locking me down, playing bullshit power games and trying to make me jealous by repeating over and over again how amazing her ex-boyfriend was in bed last night. Her feigned strength is a dead giveaway to the shattering of the fragile little barrier we had erected between us and the rest of the world. She still comes around... only to stop short, keeping herself from falling back into chaos with me. All of her communication has turned needy or standoffish, depending on her BAC.
Case Study 2: Metacarpal
I met her at the club, chased her around for a bit, and finally exchanged contact info. I went after her friend first, took her home and fucked up something fundamental on the close. Since PUARawDogg seemed to recover her friend, I switched modes and had the conversation with her. We all rolled back to my house for a movie, and I asked her to stay. She went home with her friend and txted me to wait for the right timing next time. I dared her to come over in her pajamas. She did, and rocked the shit out of it, not responding to my normal sexual menu and making me go back to the drawing board and watch some instructional DVD’s on how to be more aggressive. That worked out, btw... I’m much more potent, and I owe that shit to her. But then, she tried to come over a few times and I was with someone else. Her communication turned a little needy, but she knew the score, so she fixed that right quick ( I think she’s the chillest one in a year and a half ) but our little intimate structure faded too. Physical intimacy turned from nurturing caresses and talking all night to “I wanna ride you”, “Thanks.”
Case Study 3: TargetBehavior
I met her through another PUA who seemed to never follow through. This one is interesting. She’s a behavioral analyst with a thirst for social dynamics. When we first talked, we got into a 12 hour conversation about pickup and she started mapping all the terms I was using into a framework for Applied Behavioral Analysis. We hooked up and continue an amazing relationship with no fuzzy questions and a common goal, to write a book about training guys to overcome their internal issues, using ABA to develop tasks for guys to follow the path to becoming decent PUA’s. She got a little catchy-feelings for a moment, but squashed it and continues to be awesome. Score one in the win column.
At the end of the day, I’m really all about authenticity, but finding the girls who are down to continue a non-traditional relationship without lies and covertness is like finding a needle in a haystack... And I found 3 at once. The problem is, it’s inadvertently screwing up my game. You get all lazy when you’re getting laid on the regular. I’ve taken a few steps to correct this crap, but we’ll see how it turns out.
1. Some nights, when I get the fishing text messages; “What are you up to tonight?” I respond; “Picking up chicks at [BadassClub].” They get it and then I can go out and run game like normal without having to worry about having the safety net to come home to.
2.I started ignoring them at the club. Any given night, 3-6 girls I’ve hooked up with will be there, saying what’s up and testing the waters. I’ll dance, but I bounce around and don’t hover with them in dark corners. I set some ground rules that sort of implicitly communicate themselves;
- If I’m in the club I only make out with new girls.
- I keep my friendly bouncy conversations in the attraction phase, and don’t escalate with previous closes.
- Feel free to come up and cockblock if you see me in set. They do this once or twice, then they’d just rather not know. They go off and dance and leave me alone, most of the time. Some of the other PUA’s I roll with are experiencing far more clinginess, but I think when I give them the “You ain’t gon’ tie me down” talk in the beginning, they’re more mad at themselves for getting invested than mad at me for being me.
The key I guess is congruency. To be authentic, there has to be complete congruency. I don’t hide stuff, but I don’t volunteer stuff. I give 100% when I’m alone with one girl. I give 100% in field. Some appreciate it, others... not so much.
PUAMangasm's being in town has really amped the wingman quotient, but we're getting pretty tired. We're not as young as we used to be, that's for sure. On the way over to Pikey's, I got a text message from that little bisexual chick (HBTantalize) whose "girlfriend" gave us such trouble a few weeks ago. I had written these girls off already, but whatever, every day is a new day.
These two chicks are those special blend of girls who
- Just figured out they're hot
- Flaunt it to fill the void of attention they never had as children
- Are scared shitless of actual emotional connection
- Mask it with feigned independence and a lot of alcohol.
Unfortunately, you just have to manipulate girls like these just to not get run over, and it's almost a completely selfless thing. It's like they're screaming "LIKE ME, LIKE ME, LIKE ME!!!!", but then they craft a front that just says "FUCK OFF, FUCK OFF, FUCK OFF", and it's totally incongruent. I've been getting the best results with girls who are just fun fun fun, and then they pass the qualifying questions from my blueprint. Can't waste a night of game just because I'm never gonna marry an emotional 6, so I dove in.
If I hadn't been so attuned to the approval frame that she was throwing out, I wouldn't have caught it. She had assumed the role of alpha female, and carried all these groupies with her. She pinged a bunch, trying to get all of us guys to feed into her frame a few weeks ago. She kept coming out of nowhere, taunting with her physical presence, only to run away to get us to chase her, or she'd try to overpower us with hypersexuality, only to take it away quickly.
Nice try. She'd said something about liking it rough as she clawed the back of my neck trying to push me out of my comfort zone. Too bad she didn't believe her own bullshit. I grabbed her by the throat and pushed her up against the wall and made out with her. I held her there by her hips as I took off to go smoke... effectively flipping the script. She recalibrated quickly and just pushed harder, trying to pull me back into something she could control. Ha ha ha. You haven't been around the block long enough to pull anything I haven't seen before.
So she showed up this week and I picked her up for that flying hug of glory and put her back down. HBTantalize: You surprised me by being so forward a few weeks ago. Duke: You loved it. Don't flip the switch if you don't want the light on. HBT: Kiss me. Duke: You're drunk already? She gave me a look like "Come on, plz?" but she knew she couldn't say anything because it would ruin the power balance and all of that fragile facade of ego around her frame. HBT: You had your chance. Duke: Shhhh. ::Makeout:: God, I love that, when she gets all uppity and then you just scramble the wires. I spent the next hour ignoring her so she wouldn't regain the upper hand in the power play, and then she wanted to play. After controlling the rest of the crew of chodes in the club, she went back to conquer me. She kept running by and smacking my ass, trying to grab my nuts, and kissing. I kept ignoring and randomly responding with something really masculine and overpowering and then leaving. She grabbed my face the way a mother does when she's really pissed and said "Look at me!". I picked her up, wrapped her legs around me, pinned her to the wall, and bit her behind the ear until she relaxed in a momentary surrender.
She started talking to DamnTheRiver but kept sideglancing at me. She must be trying to make me jealous. Fine with me, I don't get jealous. I walked by, talking to HBPlayette and the BMetric and she grabbed my belt again. Great. She pulled me on the dancefloor. HBT:Kiss me. Duke:Ok. *smooch* HBT:You wanna fuck me sooo bad, don't you? Hand on my belt, nose to nose, she pulled the ultimate congruence test, grasping for control. Time to qualify. Duke: I'll need a lot more trust, comfort, and connection before we can do anything like that. HBT (unwavering):You SO wanna fuck me. Duke: You're drunk. I don't do drunk chicks. Everytime I see you, you're drunk. I have to get to know the real HBT. HBT:*Silence* trying to stare me into discomfort. Duke: Call me. Let me meet an HBT who's not fucked up. Build some sort of comfort. Get to know the real HBT. That's who I want to fuck. Not this drunk one. HBT:::Makeout::
I half expected her to say something like "Your loss...", or "I wouldn't EVER fuck you" since I've seen quite a few of these girls in the past. But no, she looked at me with what seemed like some sense of respect and started acting normal. Awesome. Now THAT I can work with.
Now why can't I pass congruence tests of girls I actually want to build something with?
Four hundred something days at the clubs, and I get invited to a cocktail party for a PUADrake's birthday. I dressed up in a suit and rolled on over there to meet up with everybody. Unfortunately, I was a bit out of my element.
I'm standing there with business owners and a bunch of ex-hookups of PUADamnTheRiver fumbling to make conversation, and pulling it off pretty well, but all that aside it was still pretty uncomfortable. Some girl (BPerfectEyebrows) ran into me and I turned to introduce myself and open for all that....
"We met already. Like 2 times. In the club. I can't believe you don't remember me."
This happens to me way too often. I quickly figured out where I met her, and I had run an entire 20 minute interaction on her just last weekend. I did the whole deal. Number close, future projections, nicknames, unsnapped her bra strap. I saved the interaction, and kept moving, but I've got to quit forgetting these girls. That's what happens, I guess when you talk to thousands of them. Anybody got any good tricks for remembering names?
DamnTheRiver started flipping out since like 4 girls were there at the party that he'd hooked up with, and he didn't want any drama. The girls were pretty classy, and there wasn't any weirdness, but HE made it weird, flipping out and whining about it all. I've been to a few parties where I'd sit down and go... "Damn. I have slept with or made out with every girl in this room". But for me, it doesn't matter. I'm looking for that connection, and that's what qualifying is for. He, on the other hand, was taking the "OMG I Don't wanna lose her" frame with one of them. It's like he has something to hide. Everybody knows he's a whore, and everybody knows I'm a whore.
The difference between him and me is that I've accepted it.
It's like I'm all; "Gotta test drive the cars before you buy 'em." And he's all; "No, you're like the first car I've driven, baby. And you're special because of it." He's not lying, everybody knows what he is, but he thinks he's lying, and that makes him flip out. Really weird if you ask me. Just own it, bro.
Another thing that boggles my thick head is why consummate rakes like us ever get so attached to something that doesn't match our blueprint. We practice, and create a process that works for generating attraction, but when the girl hooks us, we abandon everything we ever learned about being congruent with our masculinity. I call shenanigans.
Whatever. I got into a conversation with PUAAuNormal about his theory, and it's all stuck in the old frame of presentation and keeping up. He calls it "Bragging rights" and it's about meeting the social stereotype so the girl can have something to impress her girlfriends with when they chat. I wholeheartedly disagree with this line of thinking, but hey, if it works for him...
It seems like he assumes that pickup and dating is all about lying. Again, there's a lot of that available in the community, but I don't really subscribe to it all. The only lying I do is when I'm trying new stuff out that's out of my comfort zone and it's not congruent yet. I think that Authenticity rules this game, and without utter honesty and just being real (especially to yourself) we all get nowhere fast.
Whatever, I went over to Terrace after that and number closed a couple of drunk chicks, for the habit. It's funny how most of the numbers I get are worthless, while facebook nets a far better result. HBEnglish showed up after a show, but she was pretty drunk. We bounced around for a bit and rolled home, but watching the interaction by DamnTheRiver was kinda unnerving.
Here I am at the crossroads again. I've been thinking alot about what it takes to be successful, and what it takes to truly forge my own path. I spent a bit of time pondering my own core values and how they relate to the rest of the world.
It's a weird thing to set out to master social dynamics. From 20-something years of trying to fit in, to please people, to be validated and to be liked... to now; Now where I'm supposed to stand out, step ahead, lead, own my own purpose. It's like two different belief systems are still warring in my head, and it doesn't look like either side has made much progress.
One way I've grown is in my ability to enforce personal boundaries. Before I really got into self-actualization, I thought the answer was to be fluid, be like water. When an obstacle presented itself, to find the path of least resistance, to flow around it. This was all good when I applied this methodology in situations with little real social consequence. There were social and expectation oriented things that were at stake, and I could easily let something pass with little friction, and things would smooth themselves out.
But there are times there is much more at stake. There are times a man needs to straight up stand up for something, driven by his core values system to set clear boundaries. Protecting his core, protecting his loved ones, protecting his ability to accomplish mission.
My core is all I have. The only compass to lead me through the treachery of social-conditioning, and external influence. The only stable point I have in the fast, disorienting, chaotic whirlwind that life surrounds us with. It's the only thing that makes me unique in the dizzy sensory array in the surrounding environment. And, when it all comes down to it, my identity and my core values are the only things I'm ultimately accountable to when it's all over.
My loved ones are my responsibility. I believe that interpersonal relationships are the only things that matter. Like Tyler says, We're born on our own, we live on our own, and we're going to die alone. I should do what I do for me, and then using my fullness of being, take responsibility to influence the world with my gifts and acceptance of roles. One of the things I'm accountable to is my decision to protect my loved ones.
My mission is the only thing I'm here for. From whatever religious or philosophical understanding I have in the moment, I need to remain true to my mission. If I'm to face my own death and understand its imminence, if I'm to be spurred to action by an authentic uprising from my core, my action must have a central goal. I am ultimately accountable to choose a direction, and then to make progress.
These three things have all the same things in common; Accountability. I have to be able to take stock of the things I've done and decided and weigh them against my own core values, accountable to my own definition of what's best, effective, or congruent.
If I took a metaphorically evolutionary approach to my thought patterns, I'd apply the "Survival of the fittest" concept. Thoughts that come through as ideas, ideas that spur decisions, and decisions that influence actions are all filtered through my set of beliefs to see if they're effective at reaching the goals of the moment. If the goals prove to be ineffective, they are modified or scrapped and replaced with new ones in order to continue growth.
In comes the Ego. All of this stuff is surrounded by my efficacy-killing ego. Sometimes it's there in full force, sometimes it wanes into the background and efficacy increases. Simply seeking comfort is a lie, but the Ego loves to grow there, like mold. Pitting the Ego against what is effective is a beautiful disaster, something that creates a semblance of stasis in what may otherwise be a chaotic and overwhelming world.
The balance is a facade. The truer balance is struck in my own psyche. I've found that my ability to endure pain is directly linked to my ability to enjoy and appreciate pleasure. I can't revel in the ecstasy and bliss of the pleasures without taking the responsibility to go through the pain. The more unique pain I go through, the more work I put in, the more consistent and intense my experience of pleasure will be.
In 20 some-odd years, I've never set real boundaries, except for in 5 separate cases. I've drawn plenty of boundary lines in order to tell people where they can cross and where they can't, but enforcing them has always been a chore. Enforcing boundaries means you must disappoint the people who are trying to cross them. In my socially-conditioned, lazy search for validation and affirmation from external sources, I had never truly considered that letting people down was really an option.
Be friends with everybody. Good goal on the surface. Make everyone happy. Great goal on the surface. Spread positive energy all over the place, wherever it will stick. Another great goal. Unfortunately, there's the shadow of it all that cannot be ignored. Befriending everyone without setting boundaries against unacceptable behavior makes you weak. Trying to make everyone happy comes with the price of personal core sacrifice, with makes you ineffective at everything else, compromising your core and your mission. Spreading positive energy everywhere makes people distrust you because they can't identify with you by seeing a weakness. Each choice to be positive is accompanied with a crippling side-effect.
The balance is struck by being able to deal with both extremes. I can say I want the best for you, and mean it. Then I can do things that hurt you because I believe they are best. I'm accountable to my core for this. I can get enraptured in a woman's gaze and at the same time, know that the pain is coming because I haven't earned that ecstasy. Another lesson is coming. The ego takes the pleasure and says "you deserve this". When in reality, it's a continuum. A balance. Resting too long there always makes it sour.
I, at the core, hold growth to be the most dominant need to fill. At the end of the day, I'm accountable to ensure that growth keeps happening. As I grow I'm able to take on more, and at the same time experience more. I don't know if that made any sense, but now that it's out of my head, I'll be able to sleep.
After the night of Old Crow and drunken madness, PUAPhilanthropist and PUAMangasm slept on my couch. We woke up slow went out, still drunk, walking to the nearby Italian restaurant for lunch. Looking at girls was about all we could do, plus the bright light was making our heads pound inward like we were hiding in some sea trench and enemy submarines were dropping depth charges to try to smoke us out.
We decided to keep it lo key, so we skipped karaoke, which is our normal Sunday night. I was glad to reconnect with HBRevenge NOT under the pretext of me being utterly annihilated, and the Calabasas crew was back in force at the table next to us. Always good to see them.
Ran into PUAByItsCover he invited me on a boat trip to Havasu, which was really surprising, since I just kind of run into him at the club over and over, but not much more is there. He set some stuff up so we'll hang out on purpose later, and then HBNinjaBodyguard and her galpal BlondesPreferGentlemen sat down and I told a bunch of stories from my childhood.
Bodyguard might fit the blueprint in a whole bunch of ways, but I think her coping mechanisms wouldn't fit my lifestyle. I qualified her and left it at that. That one's a slow burn anyway.
Two girls opened for a cigarette, I got them to sit and told a few stories. ByItsCover kept the vibe flowing and I just rolled it out non-attached (okay, lazy.) but they'll remember me for sure.
It's Saturday night, Mangasm and I are getting Steiner-esque and decide to pre-drink at RawDawg's pad. 5 guys and then RawDawg's current love interest, HBHoops comes over. Mangasm and I start taking shots of Old Crow, a cheap homeless guy's whiskey that tastes like Wild Turkey and Satan had a child and that child pissed into our shot glasses. Mangasm kept making comments about me not being able to keep up and dancing around laughing at my wussiness.
12 drinks later, we all rolled over to our favorite spot, Sunset Terrace, ready to kick off the night with glitz and glamour. I stepped out of the car in the Terrace parking lot and I knew the rest of the night wasn't going to go so well. I don't know how I made it past the bouncers, because I could barely pull my ID out of my wallet. Mangasm said; "I'm GOING TO GET 5 Numbers tonight. I will OWN YOU."
PUAPhilanthropist rolled over and handed me a shot of Jager. I slammed it and Mangasm went to find an alley to puke in. I WIN. But what did I win, really? Pride goeth before a fall. I found a table in the middle of everything, sat down and the rest of the night turned into mush.
People in my life phased in and out for seconds. I warned people not to let me leave with any fat chicks and then I went into a downward spiral. HBRevenge (what a goddess) showed up and took care of me, but I ended up getting super emotional and having a breakdown in the middle of the concert.
I'm usually pretty balanced, but I carry a few heavy things around with me because I'm a women's self-defense instructor and sometimes my students get assaulted and call me wondering what to do. All I want to do in these cases is to get a name and go kill somebody, but my professionalism leads them through the legal process instead. Anyway, I get some of these phone calls every couple of months and I try to lead my life knowing this shit happens all the time and I can't do anything about it. It's heavy shit for me, and part of what got me into teaching defense in the first place.
So I'm sitting in the middle of my home bar, crying my friggin eyes out in the middle of a nervous breakdown, spurred on to falling apart by the Devilish old crow. HBRevenge was a great nurturing force that took care of my dumb ass. Obviously, no approaches. Mangasm showed up again after puking in the alleyway and said; "I changed my plan, Fuck 5 numbers, I just wanna live."
It's about 1:15 when I can walk again, so I went around trying to open sets, still horribly drunk. Adventure, adventure. Magasm's like; I got 1 number! I WIN. HBRevenge drove me home and I realized I had left my phone on the table. So I walk back to the club and grab my phone, and walk back with the boys, There's two girls there on the street, I think they were trying to go to PUAOverhand's pad, but we left them on the street for some reason.
We spent the rest of the night freestyle rapping to youtube audio tracks of Eminem songs. I learned a valuable lesson about cheap whiskey. Now I remember why I don't drink.
Since school ended, Fridays are becoming the nights of glory for the whole crew. We'll generally go to Cisco's, which is teeming with hotties from all over the area, and we even get bleed-overs from Calabasas and Malibu. It's a $5 cover (I've got to figure out how to get around that) and it's truly an environment for fire-and-forget game. I don't get the chance to get emotionally caught up because there's so many girls there that I'm in another conversation before I can think about how the last one went.
We prepartied at PUARawDawg's pad and PUAArgentino brought this girl over I hadn't seen in a few years, and it made me wonder why he wouldn't actually hit up new girls like the rest of us. Whatever.
My warmup set was right inside the door (First set on the left, 3s rule), followed by a 2set by the bathrooms. I circled the club twice with Mangasm and grabbed a drink. A table of 6 sits down and I open, she's congruence testing me hard. As I slog through the conversation, I'm thinking to myself "Don't eject. Get reference experiences". But it wasn't a fun bantery exchange. It was her being venomous, and so I broke. She finally said "Well, I have to give you props, you've lasted here for an entire minute." I kind of faded away after bagging on them for not dancing. Next time, I'll plow directly into storytelling. Relying on them to give me cues to carry on the conversation is totally for the lose. I chit-chatted with a bouncer friend of mine about the UFC, and rolled out.
I hit up the Calabasas crew and made my way over to the dancefloor. There was a cute Slovakian girl in her mid-thirties standing by herself. I laser-eyed her and she walked over to meet me and opened me about my shirt in a cute accent. We were conversing for about 6 minutes, and I told her I liked adventure and cold read her to be super adventurous. There's nothing more adventurous than the Cisco's dancefloor. Come. *hand grab* She started to follow but said she was waiting for her friend from the bathroom. I lit a cigarette and turned to open a new girl who was walking by with an AMF. The Slovakian girl grabbed me by the arm to get my attention and introduced me to the bathroom friend, who kept staring over my shoulder as if to pretend she was mean and anti-social. She girlcoded the Slovakian girl, and they both got cold. I ejected with "see you on the dancefloor" and put up the hifive. The Bathroom chick just stared straight through me like I wasn't even there and the Slovakian girl followed suit, maybe peerpressured by Bathroom chick. Whatever. Next time I'll just plow it with some court-holding kino. I figure if they're still facing me, I might as well assume a captive audience.
I circled again and saw a guy in his mid-forties standing by himself with a rum and coke. He lives in Thailand and told me cool stories of visiting Jakarta, complete with Indonesian travel websites so I can save a bundle when I go... because, how he put it, "A guy your age HAS to go... like, yesterday". Turns out he owns some massive global cosmetics company that does most of its business in Asia. He was cool as shit, and I'm glad I opened him. Throughout the conversation he kept dropping hints about how he makes rediculous amounts of money and hangs out with beautiful women, but it didn't feel like it was an ego thing. I think he was testing to see if I was going to be a value-sucker, because the more indifferent I became, the more he opened up. He told me how to craft my ethics for business and success, and then said "Teach ME something." I said "Well, you don't need to pick up chicks, and that's what I'm good at :)" I couldn't think of anything on the spot except for the pointed finger squish handshake thing, but I was saved from demonstrating my ignorance by a group of girls who asked us to take their picture. I left the new guy with Argentino and his cousin, and rolled over to the Calabasas crew. I've got to figure out something to teach people.
Sitting on the firepit, I kept introducing myself to anyone walking through the walkway who held eye-contact for more than a second. I stopped a birthday girl who remembered me from last week, but she was way too fucked up to matter, so I let her go. Then I spotted the perfect guy for HBPlayette. See, Playette loves half-asian guys (totally my fault, lol) and I stopped him immediately. He seemed really cool and he had just gotten out of a relationship, so I brought him over to Playette to see what he could do. Too bad he choded out. I can only show you the door, man.
By this time, PUARawDawg and PUAOutpour are drunk as shit, and unabashedly hitting on everything that moves. RawDawg approached A seated 2 set and locked out the blonde one hard. I tried to make it into pull out the Brunette, but PUATheParty was cockblocking just by drunkly sitting in my way, just far enough to be a total obstacle for conversation. I dragged Playette over to pull out TheParty and scooted in to tag the Brunette. Finally, the blonde is no longer distracted. 3 of her friends showed up and started to try to pull the blonde out from under RawDawg, so I paused for a moment and sent Argentino and his cousin and PUAPhilanthropist over to slice and dice the approaching group. Success! we had five girls split five different ways in different directions. Too bad RawDawg was drunk. He probably would have won with that one. He ejected and the blonde one took her girls with her to the bathroom. I should have #closed the brunette, but unfortunately, I was paying too much attention the situation, and I can't remember anything about her. Lesson learned; Next time, pay attention to my target, lol.
My buddy's wife calls me and says she's in line and if I can get her through. I told her maybe she shouldn't come by at 11:30, saying something about fire codes. She finally got it and jumped on my lap and kissed me. This behavior has been happening for the last month or two, and it makes me uneasy since she's not only married, I know her whole family. I think they're in the middle of a divorce but I'm not about to escalate on somebody's wife. Totally one of my rules, no married chicks.
We rounded up the drunk people and piled them into the car, off to Sunset Terrace. The vibe at Cisco's was wierd and the boys were getting agitated. Sunset felt like home though. I reopened one of Wifey's friends that I hadn't seen in a few months, who was giving me shit all night for forgetting her name. She begged me to dance, so I drug her out there and rock her world out. Went for the *close on the dancefloor, but she redirected and I ended up somewhere on her neck. BCorset showed up and kissed me a bunch, which I thought was funny as shit, because the other girl who had just redirected me was standing there like "damn."
I left the floor and rolled outside to cool off, and another married chick who keeps giving me the eye grabbed me and kissed me. I was like; "You're still married." What gives with married chicks? She bought me a flower from the flower guy and I put it in my belt so I could tell chicks to stop looking at my dick when they ask why there's a flower on my pants. Great opener, btw. Credit Mangasm.
I rolled over to the other side and sat down, entertaining a few random conversations and opened an intern for some Assemblyman who showed up in a couple of limos. She bonded over a cigarette and started complaining that the guy, her boss, keeps trying to bang her and she doesn't want to leave with him. I laughed and let her go, but she kept hovering.
Eventually this 55 year old guy in a Tommy Bahama shirt rolls out and start being superphysical with her, to the point where in a normal situation I would have blown his ass out for being a dick. She's giving help-me eyes to anyone who would make eye contact as he's licking her face and grabbing her head like the Predator. Mangasm sees this, not knowing anything about it and asks "Should I cockblock this guy?" I said, "Be careful, she'll probably leave with him anyway, no matter what you do, He's her boss."
"Should I take him out?"
"Go for it."
Mangasm opens, HARD. "OMG I LOVE YOUR NAILS *hand grab* I was thinking about getting the same ones, to match my eyes". He literally pulled BIntern out of the guy's arms and she said "THANK YOU" Assemblyguy puffed up real big for his 5'6" frame and started screaming at Mangasm. I WILL FUCK YOU UP, KID. Mangasm tried to diffuse the situation, but Assemblyguy wasn't having it. NO. I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP. The whole thing was so comical, that we all started laughing. I got up to drag the guy out from behind if he actually started swinging because if he connected with Mangasm's bearded face, that would be the end of Assemblyguy. Mangasm is one of the craziest fighters I know, and I shudder to think what carnage would take place. There'd be an open seat in our state legislature, for sure.
FUCK YOU KID, I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP. At this point, Mangasm let the girl go and placed both his hands in the air like the Highlander and laughed in Assemblyguy's face at the top of his lungs followed by a guttural "Bring it on". Just in time, PUAComical grabbed our favorite bouncer staff to throw the guy out, who ended up pacing and screaming outside the gate.
BIntern started talking out her situation in that way you hear abused girlfriends talk about the guys they make excuses for. I've heard it all before and I knew she didn't actually want to get saved, she just wanted to bitch. Oh well. She ended up rolling to the the limo and Mangasm pulled her out again. She conveniently forgot where her car was, so we didn't know where to take her. Off she went in the limo. We tried, girl, but we can't protect people from themselves.
All in all, what a great night. Exciting as hell, and I learned a few things.
-= Duke =-