If you want to be with a lot of women, you have to date a lot of women. Many PUA’s on the web like to brag about their one-night F-closes. I’ve been there too, and I wouldn’t ever deny that it’s very gratifying to meet a girl and fuck her on the same night. It’s fucking great, of course. But I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know when I say that this is pretty rare. Not to mention that it’s hard to respect a girl that is that easy. Of girls that I met and fucked in the same night, exactly zero of them have been LTR material. I am willing to accept that there are some exceptions out there, and that some of you out there may have found them, but I haven’t personally found them in my journeys, and I’m not going out on much of a limb when I say that girls you can meet and fuck on the same night are generally not high quality.
Here’s where we come to some of the unspoken friction of the PUA/game community. Most guys are more tenderhearted than they would like to admit. Most guys want a lot of pussy at the same time as they are hoping to meet a special girl who will distract them from the world of diverse pussy that’s out there. Acting tough gets you a long way on the web; talking about your worries, less so.
So I will go out on a limb myself and say that I can’t fucking stand meat-market pick-up clubs. Rag on my pretentiousness all you want, but I just can’t be bothered to spend multiple nights a week in places that make me feel like a giant douchebag. Part of living your life to the fullest is embracing your own preferences. If your preference happens to be retarded clubs with terrible music, full of spiky-haired dudes and fake-blonde girls, more power to you. But if you’re like me, you want to get laid and meet lots of quality girls without having a life that revolves around clubs with names like “Kold” or “Steele.”
My personal preference is hot girls with an inner life, who have read a lot, and who have a bit of virtue beneath their pretty smiles. A real man deserves to get what he wants.
Very well then. If you accept the premise that meat markets aren’t all that, and you still want to get laid, then you have to get numbers and connections some other way. Meeting girls is pretty easy if you have half a pair of balls (and that’s another post for another day). But let’s assume that you’ve got the digits and you’ve navigated the voicemail/text jungle to get her to meet you some weekday night. Now you’re on a date, whether you like it or not, and it’s important that you do it right.
This post isn’t about how to do it right. I’m going to assume that you have tight game, or at least passable game. You’ve done your best to qualify the girl, you’ve kept your body language and your state-control. You’re making eye-contact well and gently escalating kino. But what happens when the girl is just not up to your standards.
This is very important. You have to have standards, no matter how hot the girl is. I’ll tell you a personal anecdote to make my point.
“Pei” is the daughter of some obscure Asian royal family. She’s quite pretty and has the kind of young, big-lip, pert-titty, thick-booty body that makes Master Dogen’s junior monk stand up and meditate with all his might. She has an interesting past, and a shitload of money. I really wanted to like Pei. We went to a sexy wine bar in Manhattan and at first the conversation was very good. She has read a good deal (she was reading W. Somerset Maugham at the time, which is more than I can say for myself).
But as the night wore on, I got the nagging sensation she was a cold fish. The date went very well. I was in control, took the conversation where I wanted it to go, and she was touching me from time to time. She was interested in my job (indeed that’s how we met), etc. etc. But she seemed a little distant. I pulled her to another location, played some playful Big Buck Hunter with her. Trust me, I’ve fucked up on dates before, but this wasn’t one of them. Maybe with 3 months of effort I could have opened her up. I’m confident it wasn’t me, but that Pei had some inner issues that were making her neurotic. Sure enough, when I pulled her in for a kiss, after all that kino, she gave me the weakest, purse-lipped kiss I’ve ever got. I’d have more respect for a girl who outright rejected me. Or, of course, for a girl who kissed me with great, burning passion and then excused herself to go home. But Pei just seemed to endure it and then worm herself away coldly.
I cut my losses, of course. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea. But I must admit that her privileged position, her bright skin, her DSL, her almond eyes, and her exotic heritage (technically, literally an asian princess), made me want it to work even when my every instinct was to cut away.
Well, cut away I did. For a moment, walking down Avenue A, I felt a tinge of regret. Never beat yourself up for feeling that. Even the greatest lovers feel regret for loves they didn’t fuck as hard as they could. Never feel bad for loving women. Loving women is what makes you a real man. It’s a fucking glorious and generous thing. But you still have to cut your losses.
Think about it: should I really wanted to have taken this cold fish home? Even if I had managed to sarge through her resistance, she’s almost certainly going to be a terrible lay if she kisses like that. Sure she’s intriguing, but I’m after the very best.
It’s very common to rate girls on looks, 1 through 10. And the emphasis on hotness is an important lesson to men who have deluded themselves into thinking their awful, poly-sci degree SWPL girlfriends are hot just because they have two openings at their root instead of one. But a real man needs more than pretty vagina (as wonderful as pretty vagina might be). Maybe we need a 1-10 system for the overall quality of a girl. 80% of it would be based on her looks: her face, body, and hair. But 10% has to be how she moves, how she carries herself. And minimum 10% should be her personality. A “10” with a retarded personality who moves like a battle tank is really an 8. And a solid 8 like Pei who kisses like a flounder is really a 6. I’ve never cried about the loss of a 6 in the past, and I’m not about to start now.
Cut your losses when shit doesn’t go your way. Whether your situation is like mine or completely different, remember: She’s just another bitch.